So I got attacked by this little plot bunny and just had to write it. It is pure Shep whump…you've been warned LOL.

I am no medical professional, just doing the best I can to fake it.

As always thanks to RinkRat for the amazing beta. Any mistakes that remain are purely mine.

Things That Go Whump in the Night

John rolled over in bed. He was hot and sweaty and tangled up in the sheets and his stomach hurt; a dull ache right over his belly button. It felt like he'd been hit, except he hadn't been. His last off world mission had been all about the food. John and his team had been invited to the Dalnidian's annual feast, and John had been obligated to take his team and go. Hardly a hardship since the Dalnidians produced some of the best food John had ever tasted.

John pressed his hand into his stomach and frowned. Maybe too much food; it certainly wasn't agreeing with him. A pain shot through his belly, radiating to his side. He curled protectively into a fetal position and the pain subsided; but the nausea didn't. He stretched his legs out and the pain returned with a vengeance. Drawing his legs back against his chest, John breathed slowly in and out. He had two choices. Somehow get himself up and to the bathroom so he could throw up in the toilet or stop himself from throwing up at all. Since he couldn't change position without the agony in his stomach returning, he went with the latter, trying to breathe through the nausea until it eased off.

It didn't work. John clenched his jaw convulsively as the urge to vomit overpowered him. Stomach heaving, he pushed himself to the side of the bed, throwing up onto the floor. He groaned miserably. He'd had indigestion before, but nothing like this. This felt more like the time he'd been fifteen and thought it would be okay to eat the rest of the hamburger he'd left out on the counter several hours before. He'd never been so sick in his life. Until now.

He breathed in deeply. He just had to ride it out; food poisoning couldn't last forever. Another wave of nausea swept over him. His stomach muscles protested as he retched helplessly. His head dropped limply to the mattress when it finally passed. John closed his eyes. He just needed to sleep it off. He'd be better in the morning. He curled tightly into a ball and tried to make his body relax.

But the ache in his gut kept throbbing. His skin felt cold and clammy, he was sticky with sweat. He knew he needed to call up to the infirmary. He just didn't want to. He willed his body to feel better. He would not be sick. He would not be sick. He repeated it like a mantra, held on to it as another stabbing pain shot down his side.

"Shit!" he muttered. "Shit, shit, shit."

Resignedly, he reached to his side table and grabbed his ear piece.

"Carson," he gritted out, moaning as another surge of pain clamped onto his stomach.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Carson responded, concern evident in his voice. "Are you all right, lad?"

"Not…really," John grunted.

"Can you make it up to the infirmary?"

"Ummm…" John's hand clenched around the ear piece as he audibly heaved for the third time over the side of the bed.

"All right, son. Hold tight. I'm coming to you."

"Mmm…kay," John dug his forehead into the mattress.

"What are your symptoms Colonel?" Carson's voice was breathless as he moved quickly through the city to John's quarters.

"Stomach..hurts. It's like a knife…in the gut…really. Vomiting…Pretty sure I…have a fever," John panted. "Could be food…poisoning…I guess."

"All right, just hold on Colonel. We're almost there."

"We?" John cringed. We meant a medical team. He wasn't that sick, was he? He just had a stomach ache. A really bad stomach ache, sure, but still. He didn't need to be carted up to the infirmary on a gurney. "You know, I'm sure I'm fine Carson." Another round of vomiting proved the lie to his words.

"I'm sure you're not Colonel," Carson said dryly.

John heard the door to his quarters slide open, heard the clatter of the gurney as it was brought inside, and then felt Carson sit down on the edge of the bed across from him.

"All right," Carson touched John's shoulder. "Let's have a look at you. Can you roll over for me lad?"

"I'd rather not." John pressed his hand to his side.

Carson motioned to one of the medics, who knelt down on the other side of the bed. "Help me roll him, please."

John managed to barely contain the groan as he was rolled unceremoniously onto his back. But when Carson began to firmly press down on his stomach and side with his hand, John let out a harsh cry of pain.

"Sorry Colonel," Carson said sympathetically. "I'll have to get you under the scanner to be sure, but my suspicion is you're suffering from appendicitis. I'm afraid it's going to have to come out."

"You're sure it's not just food poisoning?" John asked hopefully.

Carson moved the gurney to the side of John's bed. He and the medic gently helped John up, transferring him to the gurney.

"I'll have to get you under the scanner to be sure." Carson grabbed the blanket from the foot of the gurney, placing it over John. Then he loosely cinched the straps over John's legs and waist. "But you're definitely feverish and extremely tender over McBurney's point. I'm afraid you're most likely in for some emergency surgery tonight."

"I'd prefer a diagnosis of food poisoning." John's face went green as his stomach cramped.

"Nauseous?" Carson asked, digging into one of his medical bags.

"Mmmm…" John breathed.

Carson pulled out an I.V. kit and a syringe of medication. "Just a little stick," Carson warned soothingly as he prepped John's hand for the I.V. He smoothly inserted the needle into John's skin. He then removed the needle from the catheter and connected the tubing. After efficiently taping the I.V. in place, he injected the contents of the syringe into one of the ports.

"That should help with the nausea Colonel." Gently Carson patted John's shoulder. "All right, let's get you up to the infirmary."

John closed his eyes as the gurney rolled down the hallway. Staring at the passing ceiling had begun to make him dizzy and whatever Carson had given him was also making him sleepy.

The next thing he knew, they were in the infirmary, and Carson and an orderly were transferring him from the gurney to the scanner.

"All right then Colonel, let's have a look at ye," Carson started the scanner.

John closed his eyes again as the scanner moved down his body. The pain and the nausea had both receded. His stomach was just a distant ache, and he felt himself begin to drift off. Hands under his shoulders and legs jolted him back to awareness. He felt himself lifted back to the gurney, felt hands pulling his sweats and shirt from his body. He shivered. Someone fitted his arms into the sleeves of a gown and a blanket was drawn up to his waist.

"Colonel?" Carson squeezed his shoulder.

John opened his eyes to find Carson staring down at him kindly.

"I'm afraid it's what I thought Colonel. Your appendix is inflamed. We have to take it out, the sooner the better. We're prepping you for surgery now. In a few hours, you'll be right as rain, I promise ye." Carson gave John's shoulder one more reassuring squeeze.

"Mm..kay, Doc," John sighed, too tired to protest.

"I'm going to let Elizabeth know what's going on and then I'll go scrub up. I'll see you in theatre, okay?"

"Hey, Doc," John reached up and grabbed Carson's hand. "Don't tell my team yet. Let them sleep, okay?"

"Okay son," Carson smoothly disengaged his hand from John's grip. He nodded to the orderlies and then moved aside, tapping his earpiece.

John's hand dropped heavily to the bed of the gurney,and then they were moving again. John rolled his head to the side. The infirmary walls were a blur of motion. They passed through a set of double doors. John's eyelids were heavy and he found himself unable to keep them open. Once again he felt himself lifted and moved. But this time he was moved to a cold, hard surface. Again he shivered. Someone pulled the top of his gown down to his waist and he felt sticky pads being attached to his chest. He heard a heart monitor flare to life. He felt something cold and wet being rubbed on his stomach. Someone took his hand and placed a pulse ox monitor on his finger.

John didn't know how much time had passed, but the next time he opened his eyes, Carson was there again. Everything but his blue eyes was hidden beneath gown, mask and gloves.

"You ready Colonel?" Carson asked, catching John's hazel eyes with his own. At John's nod, Carson said, "Okay then. Let's put him under."

Something warm passed through the vein in his hand.

"Colonel, count back from one hundred for me," the anesthesiologist said.

"One hundred, ninety-nine…ninety-eight…ninety-seven…ninety…"

And then everything went dark.

He wasn't sure what came back first: sound or feeling. He felt a painful tugging at his side at about the same time he heard the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. He felt cool air under his nose and heard Carson say his name. He opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. He felt himself rolled over onto his side and he retched into an emesis basin hastily shoved under his chin. Someone wiped his mouth with a cool cloth.

John groaned as he was carefully repositioned on his back.

"Take it easy Colonel," Carson soothed. "Just a wee bit of a reaction to the anesthesia. Hold on while we give you something for the nausea. The surgery went just fine. Good thing we got you in when we did, though. That appendix was ready to burst."

John breathed in deeply through the nasal cannula. "I was really hoping it was just food poisoning."

"How's your pain son?" Carson asked as he injected the nausea medication into John's I.V.

"Hurts," John grimaced, "but it's better than it was."

"I can take care of that," Carson assured him. "The best thing you can do right now is sleep."

"I don't think that'll be a problem," John sighed heavily as the medications began kicking in.

"I'll check in on you later lad," Carson smiled, patting his patient gently on the shoulder.

"Mmmm…kay," John mumbled.

Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, John drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Fin (?)

A/N: I'm still deciding whether or not to continue this little bugger. I have an idea for a segment from Carson's POV. If you want a continuation, let me know and I'll probably write it.