aurora_novarum | Fic: Trauma Confusion

(I know, two fics within 24 hours! I'll hopefully stop spamming you. LOL)

Title: Trauma Confusion
Category:Gen. Crackfic
Main Characters: Classic SG-1, Janet Fraiser, Original Character
Genre: Humor
Warnings: probable butchering of medical authenticity
Rating: Family/G
Summary: Two accident victims enter the Colorado Springs emergency room with some strange symptoms.

Disclaimer: The characters and settings of Stargate: SG-1 are owned by MGM, Double Secret Productions, Sci-Fi, and a host of others who are not me. No money is sought or exchanged in this fan work, nor is it intended to infringe on their rightful copyright or trademarks. Merely an homage.

Author's Notes: This was "supposed" to be a comment crack fic based on discussion in this Canon v. Fanon post about how many times SG teams would be pricked from all the pre and post mission bloodwork. As usual, my muse was too longwinded and less cracky for commentfic, but at least it makes a birthday fic for

sg_fignewton. Happy birthday, fig! Thanks to

abyssinia4077 for giving it a looksee. Since my medical knowledge is as either a patient or from watching ER, I make no claims of medical authenticity. LOL

The paramedics burst into the emergency room with their charges from the accident. The patients were a male and a female, both appeared to be in their mid to late thirties. Helmets and leather jackets had protected their upper bodies, but both were wearing jeans and the denim was torn to nothing. Lacerations and hematomas were readily apparent. The man's ankle was twisted, and the woman's arm obviously broken. Both were unconscious.

"Doctor...?"

Dr. Jacobs looked over at the nurse. She was pointing from where she had just cut the remains of the jacket off the woman. Several needle marks were visible on her arm. The doctor clucked in disappointment, and added a few more orders to the tox screen. The patient hadn't looked like a junkie from initial appearances, but the doctor, recently arrived at Colorado Springs, was learning quickly that you could never make assumptions in the emergency department. A quick check of the woman's companion revealed that he too had several marks.

Speaking of whom, he was starting to stir. "Sam...?"

"I'm Dr. Jacobs. Can you tell me your name?"

"Janet?"

"No, Jacobs," she corrected. "Do you remember what happened?"

He started mumbling something incoherently. His voice was slurred, and he spat out some blood. She tried to test his pupil reaction, but he batted her hand away sluggishly. A nurse had recovered his wallet that contained an id. "Daniel Jackson."

"Mr. Jackson. We need to give you some tests."

"No, I need to get to the Mountain. They're coming."

"Sir, you are in the hospital. There was an accident."

"No, no accident. Attack. Need to get to the Mountain. Sam?" He started looking around wildly, fighting to get to his friend.

"She's being worked on. Mr. Jackson, you have to remain calm." Jacobs ordered restraints. "Patient is disoriented. Possibly from trauma or a reaction to unknown narcotics."

"Sedative?" one of the aides asked.

"Not until we get the lab work back and know what's in his system already."

He was still speaking gibberish. "No, you don't understand. Need T.E.R's. Have to..."

Another nurse called over from where they were working on the unconscious woman. "Found a list of contact numbers with her id. Top one listed is no name, just a number."

"Probably her home. Try it first." Jacobs called back while they tried to keep the delusional male on the gurney. "Mr. Jackson, is there family we can contact for you? Can you understand me?"

An aide cursed in his native Mandarin when he couldn't find a spot amongst the collapsed veins in which to insert the iv. To Jacobs's surprise, Mr. Jackson answered the aide in his native tongue. The aide's jaw dropped. Jacobs ordered him to talk to the patient. They exchanged a few more words. He turned to Jacobs and shrugged. "He just keeps saying they're here, and they need to get Teelk and help the Mountain."

"Great, bilingual delusions," she muttered. "Mr. Jackson, you can't do anything until we help you. You and your friend are seriously hurt. Do you understand?" She enunciated each word clearly and tried to maintain eye contact.

Finally, he nodded. "Yes, but..."

"Good enough. The sooner we get the tests done, the sooner you can get out of here, okay?" At this point, she didn't care about the white lie. He was obviously not fully cognizant of things anyway.

To Jacobs's surprise, the labs came back showing no toxins or foreign chemicals in either patient's drug screen. Ultrasound showed no internal bleeding, but the man had a broken rib. He was given morphine for pain.

In the meantime, the woman had regained consciousness, but was just as disoriented as Mr. Jackson. "Have a foothold. Need to...Reynolds on duty."

Jacobs didn't want to know what kind of foothold they were having. "Ma'am? Can you understand me? I'm Dr. Jacobs. You were in an accident."

"Acci–No, it was...Need to... " The woman tried to get up but could barely hold her eyes open. Definitely a concussion with this one.

"Have you taken anything?"

The woman looked at her blankly. She pressed. "Drugs? What did you take?" She pointed at the markings on the woman's arm.

Her patient looked at her arm blankly. "Wha...no. Not drugs. Tests. Post...sion tests." She looked around, her gaze was sharper but her words were still mumbled. "This isn't the 'firmary."

"Tests?" The nurse who was trying to take the woman's vitals looked up in confusion. "But, both of them?"

Jacobs shrugged. "It could be any number of situations. Maybe a support group for a chronic condition?" But that wouldn't explain the clean tox screens, nor the delusions, which seemed more directed than a trauma considering how they shared them.

"Who is in charge here?" A small auburn haired woman strode through the trauma area like she owned the place, but Jacobs didn't recognize her as one of the hospital physicians.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but family can't be here."

"I'm Dr. Janet Fraiser. Doctor Jackson and Major Carter are under my care."

"'Doctor' Jackson? 'Major' Carter?" Jacobs was confused. She noticed two men following the woman, an older Caucasian and a large African-American. Both were peering over to the beds where her two motorcyclists were lying, but neither seemed to want to move past the diminutive medical doctor.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't just release them to you."

"These papers say you can." The older gentleman handed her some very official forms.

"But we've just got them stable and..."

Dr. Fraiser smiled. "They're stable. Good. Teal'c, the medics can get them ready for transport."

The larger man gave a slight bow of his head and walked back towards the reception.

Teelk? Maybe the patients weren't spouting gibberish after all. "Look, we're trying to treat them, but they were talking about a danger and were very agitated. Do you know how..."

The older man raised his hand. "Sorry, classified."

"But it was just a motorcycle accident."

The man and woman exchanged cryptic looks. Dr. Jacobs huffed in frustration. "Can you at least explain these?" She pointed out the bruises on Mr...no, Dr. Jackson's arm.

The petite doctor exchanged looks with the older man. "Doctor Jackson and Major Carter are involved in a field study that requires a lot of bloodwork. It's nothing to be concerned about."

"But what they were saying..?"

The older man steered her into a corner before she knew what was happening. "What did they say?"

"It was...gibberish. A foothold and going to the mountain. There was no toxins that would account for these delusions, and the trauma wouldn't explain..." Jacobs paused and looked at the official government-stamped papers in her hand. 'Major' Carter. "You work at Cheyenne."

The older man looked at her with a blank expression.

The medical doctor whispered to her companion, "It's not showing up in the blood work." Noticing Jacobs overheard, she spoke up. "Like I said, they were involved in a field study. I'm sorry, I can't really tell you more. I need their records."

Dumbly, Jacobs pointed out the nurse's station at the far end. "But..."

The little doctor was already walking away with a confident stride. Meanwhile, some uniformed medics were detaching Dr. Jackson and Maj. Carter from the myriad of equipment and transferring them onto new gurneys. Maj. Carter tried to resist, but as soon as she saw the large African-American, she settled. Dr. Fraiser, carrying a bunch of printouts, was at her bedside before Jacobs realized it.

She overheard the doctor speaking. "Easy Sam, you've still got a nasty bump on your head. You're both going to be under the infirmary's care for a few days."

"But the..." Dr. Jackson started to speak, but was interrupted by the older man covering his mouth.

"We know, Daniel. It's all okay." He cast a surreptitious look at Dr. Jacobs before smiling back down at Dr. Jackson. He spoke lower, but Jacobs could make out the words anyway. "Reynolds's team and SG-8 are handling it. Got it? Everything's handled."

Perhaps it was the calm presence of their teammates, but both patients settled and stayed silent as they made their way out the door. Jacobs followed at a distance, still clutching the releases and trying to phrase a protest. She overheard the older man again.

"Nice save with the hospital staff, Doc. Too bad we don't have one of those devices like the Men in Black."

The larger man spoke then in a rich baritone. "You would prefer a device that could alter your memory, O'Neill?"

The older man paused for only a moment. "Good point." He looked back at Jacobs and gave a half wave. "Just as well."

That was the last she saw of them. She turned around and looked at her empty trauma beds and the last remaining bits of detritus. The military group had even replaced the containers for hazardous material while she had stood there stunned.

"This is worse than when there's a full moon," she muttered to herself.

She heard a voice chuckle behind her. It was the janitor, coming to clean the room before the next trauma came in. "You'll get used to it."

Jacobs paled. "This happens often?"

The janitor shrugged. "About every eight months or so. Locals have learned not to question what goes on in that mountain. It's a lot easier all the way around." He went back to mopping, whistling an off-key tune.

And here Jacobs had thought a smaller city hospital would be easier.

Fin.

ETA: "Trauma Confusion" has inspired

linnet_101 to do Crack Cartoon Fic (with bonus sequel comment fic). Both are disturbingly funny.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

beanpot.livejournal.com

Is it wrong I had the image of the Janitor from Scrubs as the Janitor in this story?

Love it.

From:

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Fic: Trauma Confusion

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