Not Another Chair Story
Story 2 - Cracks in the Plexiglass
(aka The Cast Member at the End of this Episode)
Written 2009-present.
A keening cry broke across the infirmary. Heads dived under pillows, nurses suddenly chose to have their breaks and a string of Gaelic curse words skittered out of Dr Beckett's office. Standing on the threshold of the CMO's domain was Teyla Emmagan, holding her fighting staves in one hand and a disgruntled Lieutenant Colonel in the other.
"Maybe we should come back later," John suggested.
Teyla raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you not just bemoan that if you did not take some pills, your headache would last an eternity?"
"I might have...said something that sounded like that."
"And were you not the one who planted his face on the floor hard enough that for several minutes you were convinced I had multiple heads?"
"Too bad I can't blame Absinthe," he commented. "Fine, Teyla, you got me. But sounds like Carson has his hands full. And everyone else seems to have gone into hiding."
Teyla tugged him along by his black shirt until he shrugged off the indignity and chose to follow her freely. Even so, John wasn't stupid enough to get too near the door when his team mate knocked gently.
He couldn't stop her seizing his arm and pulling him in, though. Not that he couldn't have resisted in many ways – of course not – but it would be better than to suffer her particular brand of wrath. Stick fighting was fun if painful, so he didn't want it to turn into a paddy whack tournament with him as the target.
"Is this a bad time?" Teyla asked.
Carson Beckett glared back at them, but then his face relaxed when he recognised his visitors. Cradled carefully in his arms was his daughter, fussy but not so loud as she had been a few moments previously. The sight might have been normal except that Carson was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, barefoot and wearing his Atlantean crown.
"For ye, my dear, never." Carson smiled. "Though if I were to see Rodney's face this moment, I might have a few choice words to say. What seems to be the problem?"
John pointed to his head and winced for effect. Sighing, the king of Atlantis slipped off his desk and handed Meredith to Teyla. Carson tipped the Lt. Colonel's head in his hands, muttered and pressed firmly. It was with a bit too much effort and a lopsided grin that John managed not to yelp. He'd been shot, stabbed and rolled around in vehicles that crashed – for some reason he couldn't remember anything that pained him more than a faceplant.
He wrote it off as the sting of embarrassment and hoped no one else noticed.
"I'd say a minor concussion," Dr Beckett deduced. "Ye can be on yer way but I'd caution ye to take it easy for a bit."
In a calm and proper universe, John Sheppard would have used the afternoon to find a good spot for a few hits of golf, dribbled in a bit of paperwork and then sought out Sergeant Bates for a heated argument about the true American pastime.
For a moment, John envisioned the rest of his day.
Then his radio crackled.
He tapped the headset, listened a moment. His hand fell from his ear and he did his best to hide his sigh. "Lorne found a dead Wraith off-world."
Dammit, he'd brought back his golf irons just for a day like this and then something like that just had to happen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You promised."
"I know, love, I'm very sorry but Elizabeth needs an autopsy – "
Nena gestured around virtu-Atlantis, indicating some problematic streams of data that were doing their best to be bright and entirely unhelpful. Some of them lit up the space so that her usually auburn hair looked off-green, throwing khaki shadows over an already dark expression.
"Carson, I was not programmed for these duties for no reason," she snapped.
"Oh, I never said – "
"Listen! I can't look after Meredith while I'm working! You have your job, I have mine."
Gathering up a line of coding, Carson lassoed it around her form and brought her into his arms. He kissed her which had the intended result of silencing her tirade, and then said tiredly, "Nena, ye can be just a wee bit scary sometimes. And I love ye too much to treat ye that way. I'm sorry but this is important. I'm sure there is someone willing to look after Meredith."
"Yes," Nena mumbled. "You know I'm sorry, don't you?"
Carson blew out a breath of relief. She really could be crazy sometimes – though he was fairly sure she would never again strand him in a pair of shorts while freezing Atlantis.
Or maybe she'd just forgo the shorts.
Not that that would be too bad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching everyone else file out of Dr Weir's office, Carson patted down his lab coat to buy some time. Although the light settings remained standard throughout the city, the room's brightness flared before his eyes, searing the backs of his eyelids when he blinked. He waited, and Elizabeth crossed her arms.
"No," she said. "Carson, I can't authorise my CMO on this type of off-world mission. As far as we know, it could be anyone."
"It's my fault he's in this mess!" Carson exploded. "He's running hot on enzyme, Elizabeth. That makes him unstable at best and he needs urgent medical attention."
"None of which you can give if he's holding a gun on you."
"Ye don't know tha' – "
"And you don't know that he won't. But what we both know is that John will do everything to bring Lt. Ford back to Atlantis. You can't ask any more than that."
Carson contemplated sneaking off-world, which would be easy enough. Disappear. Reappear. Jump through the 'gate and – wait, what?
"Bloody insanity," he said, perturbed. "Usually I'd be the one objecting to using the Stargate."
Elizabeth smiled comfortably and leaned against the edge of her desk. Unspoken tension dissipated between them and Carson suddenly remembered their truce – that being the one that acknowledged her as his boss, even though he could make the lights in her office go disco for as long as he wanted. And then there was the issue of the IOA, who would love to hear about his antics and use it as an excuse to blow up Atlantis.
It had been no consolation to hear Woolsey's assurances that such a scenario would never happen, because there were worse things than Naquada bombs.
"Sorry, love," Carson said.
Dr Weir gave a short nod. "I understand. I'll let you know how it develops."
Spinning towards the door quickly, causing his labcoat to swish out to the side, Carson hurried back off to his work. Thinking of the pallid Wraith stretched out on a table waiting for him, he slowed his step. Hmm. Maybe he should take the scenic route back.
It's a five syllable word, Carsie-buns.
He rolled his eyes. Aye, and what's that?
Pro-cras-tin-a-tion.
"I'm not – !" Carson started hotly and cut himself off.
A pair of eyebrows lifted from behind a console, followed by a set of dark eyes. After a moment, Peter Grodin leapt up and waved with a screwdriver. Carson mentally tapped into the console and couldn't find any particular reason for the technician to be there, or why he would choose to be holding a tool that didn't match most of Atlantis' systems.
"Oh, this?" Grodin looked at his hand. "Well, Thursday night is role playing night and this week I got to choose the fandom and – "
Carson chuckled. "So I see. And which one are ye, lad?"
"Fourth – I even have the scarf."
"I'm partial to Ninth myself," Carson admitted. "I saw some of the new series when I was on Earth last."
Grodin slipped the screwdriver into his pocket. "We don't have a Ninth. Care to join us?"
"I'd better not risk my reputation."
Autopsy, autopsy, Carson reminded himself sternly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elizabeth Weir tapped the earpiece of her headset against her chin. Apart from being a habit born of a year's worth of anxiety that saved her fingernails from behind chewed on, it afforded her some time. The gesture was easily enough seen through the glass panels and looked rather too official, which meant that anyone approaching would see it as a sign that she was busy.
In the days before Atlantis, she had perfected a clenching of her fingers on the table in front of her. An impressive barricade against diplomats – it had progressed into crossing her arms when there was no table to utilise.
But now she was thinking. John and Teyla had gone missing, which itself was a concern, but then there was the added complication of Aiden Ford. Colonel Caldwell had made it very clear with an abrupt visit what he thought would be a sufficient military solution – which still left a squirm in Elizabeth's stomach.
She hadn't known Ford that well – he was a "yes" man, John's understudy, someone who wouldn't betray the loyalty to his command.
Elizabeth looked at her nails, attempted to resist, still attempted – then gave in.
"Doctor Weir?" a voice enquired from the door.
Dropping her hand guiltily, Elizabeth nodded. "Nena. Any difficulties I should brace myself for in the city clean up?"
"Do you want an exact numerical value?" Nena asked, beaming.
The entity of Atlantis flowed into the room, a swirl of white fabric and graceful pixels – though Nena hardly looked like a hologram, though admittedly she was substantial enough to be human. Elizabeth envied Nena's sculptured hairstyle of the day, one that piled upon itself to pull up her hair and simultaneously shower the bun at the back of her head with curls.
Contemplating the woman across the table, Elizabeth finally answered, "Be as vague as you like."
"Then I would say that you are going to have a greater headache than you do now."
"Simplify," Elizabeth requested mildly, rubbing the skin above her eyes.
Nena covered her smile by pressing her lips together. "I would like your opinion on something."
"Okay, you have my ear for the next few minutes."
"First, you need to come with me," Nena told her. "I do not think it is healthy for any leader to stew in their office in plain sight. Secondly, it's towards the bottom of the city. And thirdly...I had this point planned, but I can't seem to find it in my databanks."
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek, but one corner of her lips acknowledged Nena's comment by lifting slightly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air slipped up his nostrils, chugged around there for a while and slowly receded out the way it came. Rodney McKay drew another breath and his vision started sparkling – which was definitely a bad sign, because the next thing would be extra dizziness, a descent into ramblings about Algebra Club and then death.
"Would you relax, McKay?" demanded Ford.
Rodney fought with his lungs again, peered over at his...twisted version of a guide. "Maybe if you weren't, oh, waving a gun in my face, I might be able to relax but wait, I'm only hours away from suffering heat stroke which is what you clearly...and...Algebra Club," he finished, panicked.
A rough laugh burst out of Aiden and he shook his head, grinning at a point to the fart left of Rodney. "So tell me, how's everyone? How's Nena? They give her a name?"
Rodney stopped short and crossed his arms, wincing as the rubber squeaked over his elbows and forearms.
"Give who a name?" he postulated suspiciously.
"The baby!" Ford chortled. "I want to know everything. What's she like? She keeping the doc up late at night? I bet she is, if she's anything like my baby cousin."
"And why should I tell you anything?"
"Because I have a gun and it's loaded?"
A very awkward pause ensued. Rodney swallowed and backed up against a tree.
Lt. Ford tucked the gun into a holster and waved his free hand in a placating gesture. "It's a joke, McKay! Seriously, I want to know how it's all going. I don't exactly get the Atlantean Times, do I?"
"Does the safety of Atlantis mean anything to you, at all?" Rodney asked, throwing in a disdainful snort, which was clearly deserved. "The Wraith could have discovered our brilliant bit of deception, engineered mostly by myself, and what did you do? You nearly alerted them to gate travel! No – no, you don't have any right to hear anything about my god-daughter!"
Patting the holster absently, Ford nodded a couple of times before snatching the front of Rodney's suit. He dragged the scientist along the foliage until Rodney balanced himself enough to shuffle along beside him. Ford mused, "Godfather, huh? You think you can look after her if Nena and Beckett die? I'm doing what I can for them!"
Rodney shrugged him off, feeling slightly smug then realised Ford had already let go of him. "Yes – yes, if I have to, I will look after Meredith – "
"Meredith. That's a nice name."
"Look, are you sure you know where Sheppard and Teyla are?" Rodney asked to cover his mistake. "As far as I can tell, you're just taking us around in circles!"
"You couldn't walk a circle if you had a map, McKay."
"I just wouldn't walk at all!" Rodney shot back, stopping again.
A very black, and very menacing, eye turned to slice right through a stomach already predisposed to weakness. Ford flipped out the gun, running his gaze down the barrel in slow, deliberate contemplation. He informed his companion calmly, "Sorry to tell you this, but you're going to walk. And you're going to walk now."
"Again with the gun. Do you have any idea how off-putting that is?"
Ford leered. "It's still loaded."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One of the most typical and annoying laws of the universe, is that whenever someone is having a really bad time – that is, becoming a melanoma awareness advert on some planet with your psycho ex-team mate – there's someone else having a laugh at your expense because they happen to be enjoying themselves.
While Rodney McKay envisioned the spires of Atlantis and Zelenka puffing on a cigar and laughing evilly, his second-in-command was actually standing knee-deep in water with his mouth stubbornly sealed, wishing he was on the dangerous planet playing footsie with a Wraith instead.
Several queries about his progress crept in one ear, found an unsatisfactory welcome in Radek's brain and ran screaming out the other side of his head.
"I'm cold," he said at last.
"Doesn't it get cold in Prague every year?" Bates taunted from a dry platform nearby.
"Cold," Zelenka said again.
When Nena had invited Elizabeth to dedicate her brain cells to another matter that didn't involve mysteriously dead Wraith, she'd been willing to ask a member of the science team along for an informed hypothesis. What she hadn't considered was the Head of Security gate-crashing the field trip with some excuse about it being a threat to Atlantis. Elizabeth was still unsure how to deal with Bates, even if he had seemed to mellow in the past few months. Nena, however, seemed to take delight in listening to their diatribes.
"They're always like this, I think," Nena said.
Elizabeth glanced over at Bates who was grinning far too much. "Yes, I agree. And they have far too much fun doing it."
Zelenka cleared this throat. "Ah, Nena? So what you're saying is you have a...blind spot?"
"More numb with occasional squealing static," Nena supplied. "It's always been a bit funky but since the Wraith came, it's been worse. You know I'd barely known Carson a few days when I made him pump the water out before."
"Severed connection? Is that the problem?"
Nena shrugged. "It's not a vital system, but it is extremely annoying."
"But in the off-chance that we would need to evacuate," Elizabeth said, "it would be nice to have a way out that the Wraith can't immediately detect."
"That's if the 'Jumpers were actually waterproof," Bates pointed out.
Three pairs of eyes turned on the entity of Atlantis and the unspoken question lingered.
"Don't look at me," Nena said. "I didn't have anything to do with that. They built it that way. I wasn't allowed any say in how I was created."
Zelenka made an unconvinced exclamation that might have been one of his favoured Czech curses before wading over to the console. He flicked, he took notes and he squinted closely at a panel. It bloomed blue and cracked neatly down the middle. Casting a quick eye back to make sure no one had noticed, he held the pieces together and thought.
What Would McKay Do?
Probably stall long enough to blame it on irreparable aging, he considered gloomily.
"Uh oh," he said out loud.
"Uh oh what?" Elizabeth asked.
Five seconds later, three heads were bobbing against the ceiling and Zelenka's electronic tablet had drifted aimlessly through the water to end up somewhere near the floor. Nena's coding allowed her to walk beneath their feet and she resisted the temptation to tickle anyone. She watched the tablet settle next to her feet.
"It's cold," Bates noted.
"Extremely," Zelenka said to this.
Silence, then – "At least it's not sewage this time."
"Much better, ano."
Nena's face rose out of the water, hair still dry enough to bounce as she greeted them. Elizabeth Weir, respected leader of Atlantis, did her best to stave off annoyance though her smile shivered with more than cold.
"Care to tell us something?" Elizabeth asked.
"Umm...well whatever Radek was doing – I know it's not your fault you poor thing – it locked down this section and displaced all the water in this room."
Bates thrashed around in the water and collided with Zelenka who pushed him back against the wall. The sergeant hooked an index finger over the bridge of Radek's glasses and ripped them off, sending them flying across the room. It smacked into the wall, plopped down and disappeared.
"Nepravý!" Zelenka growled.
Bates attempted to kick him, missed and ended up face first in the water. Shaking his fingers through his hair, he muttered, "I was trying to reach my radio, okay?"
"And did you?"
"...it's wet."
"Mine's gone also," Elizabeth added, wishing she hadn't been tapping her chin with the headset at the time. "Nena, can you – Nena?"
The entity of Atlantis frowned through the wall beside her for a moment. Her image shimmered out of view for twenty seconds and then wavered back into view.
"John has reported in," Nena said. "He says there's some weird guy with dreds and a bad attitude keeping Teyla hostage unless they send a doctor. Dreds," she repeated, eyebrows inclining towards each other.
"I think I would have preferred to watch the kettle boil than be here right now," Elizabeth said more to herself.
A splash announced the arrival of Carson Beckett. Slicking back his hair over the top of his head, the distinct lack of pointy hair made him look somewhat lost. At least he didn't stay immaculate, Elizabeth thought with some relief.
"Elizabeth, I'm no' sending another doctor and while I respect ye and – "
"Carson," she began.
"... and, what, lass?"
Resting a hand on the arm of his sodden lab coat, Dr Weir said firmly, "I wouldn't send any other. You have my total confidence. And if you...cross paths with Lieutenant Ford, do what you can to bring him back. He's one of ours and he needs to come home."
"Can I go too?" Zelenka grumbled.
Carson flicked a wry smile in his direction. "Sorry, Radek. To do tha', ye'd need to be part of the coding. Which means we'd have to get married and no offence, yer a lovely lad, but there's only one for me."
Bates covered his mouth with a hand and released a wet chuckle. The scientist blindly lunged out, found his nose and pulled him under the water. Elizabeth raised her eyes to the grey ceiling mere inches from her forehead.
"Make it quick, Carson," she said flatly.
"It'll only take a jiffy, I promise."
After a swift, hard kiss delivered to his wife, Carson vanished. Nena sighed and floated off towards Zelenka. Waving a few fingers in front of his face, she deduced that he wasn't entirely blind and said, "I'll need your help to fix it. I can't feel what's wrong but you've got a good set of hands."
"I need glasses," he pointed out, glowering at Bates.
Nena dived. Nena returned. A set of broken glasses appeared in her hand. Zelenka held them in one hand and looked like he was either going to pray or commit murder. Sighing, he perched them on his nose. "It will have to do, I suppose."
She waved and sunk back down. Zelenka followed, but not before using Sgt. Bates to kick off from. For half a minute, Elizabeth and Bates stared down through the relatively clear water, watching Nena gesture and Zelenka attempting to keep his feet on to ground. Bubbles exploded up towards the surface as the scientist returned, gasping for breath.
He ranted through chattering teeth and it took everyone present a while to figure out he was actually speaking English.
"He was trying to reroute the power from the lights to the door mechanism," Nena translated. "But I don't think he can see too well."
"Can't you do it?" Elizabeth prompted.
"Water affects my corporeality. I might generate feedback which would destroy the entire thing."
Elizabeth levelled her gaze at Radek. "Then tell me what to do."
"I've had training with underwater conditions – it should be me," Bates supplied.
Zelenka spat water at him.
"Sergeant, from what I can see," Elizabeth said, peering down, "there's Ancient written on the panels. I can read it so I will get it done quicker and I've had experience with cold water."
"Oh yeah, when?"
"Skinny dipping, Moscow."
"All yours, m'am."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hairy behemoth on the loose: check.
Thrumming concussion-induced headache: check.
The sound of imminent doom: double check.
Muffling the all too familiar whine of Wraith darts to the back of his head, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard focused on the indomitable shout of terror that Rodney McKay had practically patented. John wouldn't put it past him, actually.
Ducking low, he barrelled through the underbrush and stopped short behind a tree. Footsteps, nearby. Footsteps...behind him? Stretching out, John grabbed the shoulder of his pursuer. He squinted through the shadows and was impressed despite himself. But this was no time for amateurs.
"Beckett, get back to the cave," he ordered.
"If yer after Aiden," Atlantis' CMO entreated, "then I need to be there. It's my fault."
"I really don't have time to argue right now. Stay low, keep quiet."
John didn't worry about what would happen if a stray beam scooped them up – for one, Carson was immune to feeding and two...there should be a two. Oh yeah – he could shoot a whole bunch of them the moment they re-materialised him. Not exactly a comforting number two, but he didn't have a lot of options.
He heard the heavy trampling and solid fleshy thuds before he ever saw the silhouettes in the clearing up ahead. Both were engaged in a fight that didn't look like it'd be taking a round two any time soon. The smaller of them bent down towards a Wraith stunner. This seemed like a good enough time for an interruption. John stood to his full height and left the tree line, holding his P90 steady.
"Lieutenant! Don't."
Leaves whisked and swished behind him as Carson Beckett entered plain sight.
"Ye can come back, Aiden," the doctor implored. "No one will think any less of ye."
Ford's coal black eye fixed on him. "That's right, they won't. Because I'm doing everyone a favour. But you gotta let me have the enzyme – "
"No! I can't – " Carson protested.
"Then I can't come back yet."
"That's just stupid, Ford!" John bit out.
"You're only saying that because you haven't seen the flip-side, Colonel!" Aiden snapped. "And once you do, you'll know what I'm talking about. You'll see."
He turned and ran into an oncoming slice of light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elizabeth Weir tilted back in her chair and stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. The ceiling swam all different shades of silver and light blue as her eyes watered. She lost the battle, opened her mouth and sneezed loudly into her hand.
"Please tell me you have some good news," she said.
Zelenka, having located his spare glasses, was the happier for it. He beamed. "Ah, yes, well it was not a total loss. The original mechanism will take more time and resources than is wise to repair, so a permanent solution to the water is not so high in priorities. However, I have fashioned a temporary method of draining the area, if we ever need it."
Elizabeth rested the tip of her headset beneath her lips. "We probably will need it at some point. Good work, Radek."
Once he'd left, Elizabeth saw that Nena had suddenly taken up residence in his chair.
"I wanted to thank you," Elizabeth told her.
Nena smiled uncertainly. "I had an apology planned and everything."
"I needed a distraction and I needed to prove I could do something. Today's experience was one I wouldn't want to repeat, but if I ever am impatient again, I'll know what lesson to keep in mind."
Swirling blue washed over the walls as the Stargate activated. Both women quickly looked to it and watched as those important to them returned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carson Beckett had kept vigil at many bedsides since some fool had given him a piece of paper giving him that right at medical school. The vigils were never mentioned in exams, nor the heartache when the only result was a flat line. This time, in the midnight quiet of the infirmary, he could relax.
Amidst the figures of sleeping patients and shadows of alien machinery, Carson felt like he had been dissolved into the dark grey of the infirmary. A year ago, this would have been perfectly normal and he imagined it was. His greatest responsibility would be to the sleeping giant, from whose paw he had plucked a rather nasty Wraith thorn.
The constant hum wending its way through the canals of his brain reminded him otherwise. Married to the entity of the city, incorporated into the very systems...he didn't dare mention it to Nena, but in the depths of night he wondered if he was still human. Oh, it felt real enough, living with her in virtu-Atlantis. She was there now, as always.
Peeling back the latex that clung to his fingers, Carson tossed his gloves into the nearest bin. His skin greedily sucked in the fresh air, growing clammy immediately.
"You going to sit there staring all night?" his patient demanded gruffly.
Carson eyed him warily. "I was thinking about it. I could pretend to have something better to do, if ye'd like."
"I'll save you the time. I feel fine. Whatever you did, it worked."
"That's the painkillers," Carson explained with a smile. "I expect ye'd be back within a couple of hours if I let ye go now. They have set up some quarters for ye, but I understand they will be guarded."
Ronon Dex regarded him without expression, twitched his large shoulders in what could be a shrug and tilted his head to focus on the plexiglass windows that shimmered in the moonlight. "Don't blame them. I've seen and heard too much about the city of the ancestors already."
"Yer not planning on telling people, I gather."
"I was thinking about it," Dex drawled. "But I don't particularly have anything better to do right now than stay here."
Carson chuckled. "Good lad. Is there anything I can get you?"
"Yeah, some more of that stuff that makes you feel like wool."
Seeing the tightening around his patient's eyes, Beckett guessed that he was in more pain than he would let on. Silently obliging with the painkillers, he watched until Ronon abandoned his tense hunch in favour of reclining against the pillows before relaxing himself. Ronon shifted and patted the base of his neck with a calloused hand briefly.
"I'm not sure I can repair the scar tissue," Carson confessed after a moment.
"Not like I have to look at it anyway."
Point. Embarrassed, Carson remembered that his coding made him immune to many injuries while on Atlantis – though he'd yet to test that theory off-world. The prospect of never scarring frightened him.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked.
Dex's expression remained neutral. Carson took that as a no.
"What's your part of all this?" Ronon instead threw a query at him.
Dr Beckett scuffed a hand over his hair, which he'd taken great pains to gel properly once he'd got back from the planet. "Well...I'm the Chief Medical Officer and – "
"It's more than a job that keeps you here."
"That's true," Carson agreed. "My wife, ye could say she's from here. And our daughter is a wee thing..."
"What's her name?"
"Meredith Mary Beckett."
"Bit of a mouthful," Ronon said.
"I've known worse, trust me."
A cloud passed over the prominent moon of the planet, forcing deeper shadows over limbs and expressions. For a few minutes, doctor and patient sat in the relative quiet of the infirmary, until the corners brightened once more. The pensive moment passed.
Ronon wrestled with the sheets and kicked them off. He crossed his arms over his armour and launched his next query. "I heard you married a chair. That true?"
"Good Lord!" Carson exclaimed. "Ye've heard that rumour already?"
"So it's true, then."
"It's a little more complicated than that..."
To his credit, Ronon didn't spontaneously burst into laughter at any point of Carson's story, though it may have been for other reasons than lax acceptance. Midnight had long passed when the tale reached more recent times and months of exhaustion were by now doing a better job on Dex than any sedative. Stretching one limb at a time out of the chair, Carson offered a farewell around a yawn.
A hoarse voice paused his departure. "Beckett?"
"Aye?"
"How do you have sex with a chair?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And somewhere on a disused part of the South pier, John Sheppard found the perfect spot to establish a driving range. It was probably a good thing there were no residences nearby, or his triumphant whoop would have raised more than a few complaints from sleepy Lanteans.
"Maybe we should come back later," John suggested.
Teyla raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you not just bemoan that if you did not take some pills, your headache would last an eternity?"
"I might have...said something that sounded like that."
"And were you not the one who planted his face on the floor hard enough that for several minutes you were convinced I had multiple heads?"
"Too bad I can't blame Absinthe," he commented. "Fine, Teyla, you got me. But sounds like Carson has his hands full. And everyone else seems to have gone into hiding."
Teyla tugged him along by his black shirt until he shrugged off the indignity and chose to follow her freely. Even so, John wasn't stupid enough to get too near the door when his team mate knocked gently.
He couldn't stop her seizing his arm and pulling him in, though. Not that he couldn't have resisted in many ways – of course not – but it would be better than to suffer her particular brand of wrath. Stick fighting was fun if painful, so he didn't want it to turn into a paddy whack tournament with him as the target.
"Is this a bad time?" Teyla asked.
Carson Beckett glared back at them, but then his face relaxed when he recognised his visitors. Cradled carefully in his arms was his daughter, fussy but not so loud as she had been a few moments previously. The sight might have been normal except that Carson was sitting cross-legged on top of his desk, barefoot and wearing his Atlantean crown.
"For ye, my dear, never." Carson smiled. "Though if I were to see Rodney's face this moment, I might have a few choice words to say. What seems to be the problem?"
John pointed to his head and winced for effect. Sighing, the king of Atlantis slipped off his desk and handed Meredith to Teyla. Carson tipped the Lt. Colonel's head in his hands, muttered and pressed firmly. It was with a bit too much effort and a lopsided grin that John managed not to yelp. He'd been shot, stabbed and rolled around in vehicles that crashed – for some reason he couldn't remember anything that pained him more than a faceplant.
He wrote it off as the sting of embarrassment and hoped no one else noticed.
"I'd say a minor concussion," Dr Beckett deduced. "Ye can be on yer way but I'd caution ye to take it easy for a bit."
In a calm and proper universe, John Sheppard would have used the afternoon to find a good spot for a few hits of golf, dribbled in a bit of paperwork and then sought out Sergeant Bates for a heated argument about the true American pastime.
For a moment, John envisioned the rest of his day.
Then his radio crackled.
He tapped the headset, listened a moment. His hand fell from his ear and he did his best to hide his sigh. "Lorne found a dead Wraith off-world."
Dammit, he'd brought back his golf irons just for a day like this and then something like that just had to happen.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You promised."
"I know, love, I'm very sorry but Elizabeth needs an autopsy – "
Nena gestured around virtu-Atlantis, indicating some problematic streams of data that were doing their best to be bright and entirely unhelpful. Some of them lit up the space so that her usually auburn hair looked off-green, throwing khaki shadows over an already dark expression.
"Carson, I was not programmed for these duties for no reason," she snapped.
"Oh, I never said – "
"Listen! I can't look after Meredith while I'm working! You have your job, I have mine."
Gathering up a line of coding, Carson lassoed it around her form and brought her into his arms. He kissed her which had the intended result of silencing her tirade, and then said tiredly, "Nena, ye can be just a wee bit scary sometimes. And I love ye too much to treat ye that way. I'm sorry but this is important. I'm sure there is someone willing to look after Meredith."
"Yes," Nena mumbled. "You know I'm sorry, don't you?"
Carson blew out a breath of relief. She really could be crazy sometimes – though he was fairly sure she would never again strand him in a pair of shorts while freezing Atlantis.
Or maybe she'd just forgo the shorts.
Not that that would be too bad.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching everyone else file out of Dr Weir's office, Carson patted down his lab coat to buy some time. Although the light settings remained standard throughout the city, the room's brightness flared before his eyes, searing the backs of his eyelids when he blinked. He waited, and Elizabeth crossed her arms.
"No," she said. "Carson, I can't authorise my CMO on this type of off-world mission. As far as we know, it could be anyone."
"It's my fault he's in this mess!" Carson exploded. "He's running hot on enzyme, Elizabeth. That makes him unstable at best and he needs urgent medical attention."
"None of which you can give if he's holding a gun on you."
"Ye don't know tha' – "
"And you don't know that he won't. But what we both know is that John will do everything to bring Lt. Ford back to Atlantis. You can't ask any more than that."
Carson contemplated sneaking off-world, which would be easy enough. Disappear. Reappear. Jump through the 'gate and – wait, what?
"Bloody insanity," he said, perturbed. "Usually I'd be the one objecting to using the Stargate."
Elizabeth smiled comfortably and leaned against the edge of her desk. Unspoken tension dissipated between them and Carson suddenly remembered their truce – that being the one that acknowledged her as his boss, even though he could make the lights in her office go disco for as long as he wanted. And then there was the issue of the IOA, who would love to hear about his antics and use it as an excuse to blow up Atlantis.
It had been no consolation to hear Woolsey's assurances that such a scenario would never happen, because there were worse things than Naquada bombs.
"Sorry, love," Carson said.
Dr Weir gave a short nod. "I understand. I'll let you know how it develops."
Spinning towards the door quickly, causing his labcoat to swish out to the side, Carson hurried back off to his work. Thinking of the pallid Wraith stretched out on a table waiting for him, he slowed his step. Hmm. Maybe he should take the scenic route back.
It's a five syllable word, Carsie-buns.
He rolled his eyes. Aye, and what's that?
Pro-cras-tin-a-tion.
"I'm not – !" Carson started hotly and cut himself off.
A pair of eyebrows lifted from behind a console, followed by a set of dark eyes. After a moment, Peter Grodin leapt up and waved with a screwdriver. Carson mentally tapped into the console and couldn't find any particular reason for the technician to be there, or why he would choose to be holding a tool that didn't match most of Atlantis' systems.
"Oh, this?" Grodin looked at his hand. "Well, Thursday night is role playing night and this week I got to choose the fandom and – "
Carson chuckled. "So I see. And which one are ye, lad?"
"Fourth – I even have the scarf."
"I'm partial to Ninth myself," Carson admitted. "I saw some of the new series when I was on Earth last."
Grodin slipped the screwdriver into his pocket. "We don't have a Ninth. Care to join us?"
"I'd better not risk my reputation."
Autopsy, autopsy, Carson reminded himself sternly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elizabeth Weir tapped the earpiece of her headset against her chin. Apart from being a habit born of a year's worth of anxiety that saved her fingernails from behind chewed on, it afforded her some time. The gesture was easily enough seen through the glass panels and looked rather too official, which meant that anyone approaching would see it as a sign that she was busy.
In the days before Atlantis, she had perfected a clenching of her fingers on the table in front of her. An impressive barricade against diplomats – it had progressed into crossing her arms when there was no table to utilise.
But now she was thinking. John and Teyla had gone missing, which itself was a concern, but then there was the added complication of Aiden Ford. Colonel Caldwell had made it very clear with an abrupt visit what he thought would be a sufficient military solution – which still left a squirm in Elizabeth's stomach.
She hadn't known Ford that well – he was a "yes" man, John's understudy, someone who wouldn't betray the loyalty to his command.
Elizabeth looked at her nails, attempted to resist, still attempted – then gave in.
"Doctor Weir?" a voice enquired from the door.
Dropping her hand guiltily, Elizabeth nodded. "Nena. Any difficulties I should brace myself for in the city clean up?"
"Do you want an exact numerical value?" Nena asked, beaming.
The entity of Atlantis flowed into the room, a swirl of white fabric and graceful pixels – though Nena hardly looked like a hologram, though admittedly she was substantial enough to be human. Elizabeth envied Nena's sculptured hairstyle of the day, one that piled upon itself to pull up her hair and simultaneously shower the bun at the back of her head with curls.
Contemplating the woman across the table, Elizabeth finally answered, "Be as vague as you like."
"Then I would say that you are going to have a greater headache than you do now."
"Simplify," Elizabeth requested mildly, rubbing the skin above her eyes.
Nena covered her smile by pressing her lips together. "I would like your opinion on something."
"Okay, you have my ear for the next few minutes."
"First, you need to come with me," Nena told her. "I do not think it is healthy for any leader to stew in their office in plain sight. Secondly, it's towards the bottom of the city. And thirdly...I had this point planned, but I can't seem to find it in my databanks."
Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek, but one corner of her lips acknowledged Nena's comment by lifting slightly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The air slipped up his nostrils, chugged around there for a while and slowly receded out the way it came. Rodney McKay drew another breath and his vision started sparkling – which was definitely a bad sign, because the next thing would be extra dizziness, a descent into ramblings about Algebra Club and then death.
"Would you relax, McKay?" demanded Ford.
Rodney fought with his lungs again, peered over at his...twisted version of a guide. "Maybe if you weren't, oh, waving a gun in my face, I might be able to relax but wait, I'm only hours away from suffering heat stroke which is what you clearly...and...Algebra Club," he finished, panicked.
A rough laugh burst out of Aiden and he shook his head, grinning at a point to the fart left of Rodney. "So tell me, how's everyone? How's Nena? They give her a name?"
Rodney stopped short and crossed his arms, wincing as the rubber squeaked over his elbows and forearms.
"Give who a name?" he postulated suspiciously.
"The baby!" Ford chortled. "I want to know everything. What's she like? She keeping the doc up late at night? I bet she is, if she's anything like my baby cousin."
"And why should I tell you anything?"
"Because I have a gun and it's loaded?"
A very awkward pause ensued. Rodney swallowed and backed up against a tree.
Lt. Ford tucked the gun into a holster and waved his free hand in a placating gesture. "It's a joke, McKay! Seriously, I want to know how it's all going. I don't exactly get the Atlantean Times, do I?"
"Does the safety of Atlantis mean anything to you, at all?" Rodney asked, throwing in a disdainful snort, which was clearly deserved. "The Wraith could have discovered our brilliant bit of deception, engineered mostly by myself, and what did you do? You nearly alerted them to gate travel! No – no, you don't have any right to hear anything about my god-daughter!"
Patting the holster absently, Ford nodded a couple of times before snatching the front of Rodney's suit. He dragged the scientist along the foliage until Rodney balanced himself enough to shuffle along beside him. Ford mused, "Godfather, huh? You think you can look after her if Nena and Beckett die? I'm doing what I can for them!"
Rodney shrugged him off, feeling slightly smug then realised Ford had already let go of him. "Yes – yes, if I have to, I will look after Meredith – "
"Meredith. That's a nice name."
"Look, are you sure you know where Sheppard and Teyla are?" Rodney asked to cover his mistake. "As far as I can tell, you're just taking us around in circles!"
"You couldn't walk a circle if you had a map, McKay."
"I just wouldn't walk at all!" Rodney shot back, stopping again.
A very black, and very menacing, eye turned to slice right through a stomach already predisposed to weakness. Ford flipped out the gun, running his gaze down the barrel in slow, deliberate contemplation. He informed his companion calmly, "Sorry to tell you this, but you're going to walk. And you're going to walk now."
"Again with the gun. Do you have any idea how off-putting that is?"
Ford leered. "It's still loaded."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One of the most typical and annoying laws of the universe, is that whenever someone is having a really bad time – that is, becoming a melanoma awareness advert on some planet with your psycho ex-team mate – there's someone else having a laugh at your expense because they happen to be enjoying themselves.
While Rodney McKay envisioned the spires of Atlantis and Zelenka puffing on a cigar and laughing evilly, his second-in-command was actually standing knee-deep in water with his mouth stubbornly sealed, wishing he was on the dangerous planet playing footsie with a Wraith instead.
Several queries about his progress crept in one ear, found an unsatisfactory welcome in Radek's brain and ran screaming out the other side of his head.
"I'm cold," he said at last.
"Doesn't it get cold in Prague every year?" Bates taunted from a dry platform nearby.
"Cold," Zelenka said again.
When Nena had invited Elizabeth to dedicate her brain cells to another matter that didn't involve mysteriously dead Wraith, she'd been willing to ask a member of the science team along for an informed hypothesis. What she hadn't considered was the Head of Security gate-crashing the field trip with some excuse about it being a threat to Atlantis. Elizabeth was still unsure how to deal with Bates, even if he had seemed to mellow in the past few months. Nena, however, seemed to take delight in listening to their diatribes.
"They're always like this, I think," Nena said.
Elizabeth glanced over at Bates who was grinning far too much. "Yes, I agree. And they have far too much fun doing it."
Zelenka cleared this throat. "Ah, Nena? So what you're saying is you have a...blind spot?"
"More numb with occasional squealing static," Nena supplied. "It's always been a bit funky but since the Wraith came, it's been worse. You know I'd barely known Carson a few days when I made him pump the water out before."
"Severed connection? Is that the problem?"
Nena shrugged. "It's not a vital system, but it is extremely annoying."
"But in the off-chance that we would need to evacuate," Elizabeth said, "it would be nice to have a way out that the Wraith can't immediately detect."
"That's if the 'Jumpers were actually waterproof," Bates pointed out.
Three pairs of eyes turned on the entity of Atlantis and the unspoken question lingered.
"Don't look at me," Nena said. "I didn't have anything to do with that. They built it that way. I wasn't allowed any say in how I was created."
Zelenka made an unconvinced exclamation that might have been one of his favoured Czech curses before wading over to the console. He flicked, he took notes and he squinted closely at a panel. It bloomed blue and cracked neatly down the middle. Casting a quick eye back to make sure no one had noticed, he held the pieces together and thought.
What Would McKay Do?
Probably stall long enough to blame it on irreparable aging, he considered gloomily.
"Uh oh," he said out loud.
"Uh oh what?" Elizabeth asked.
Five seconds later, three heads were bobbing against the ceiling and Zelenka's electronic tablet had drifted aimlessly through the water to end up somewhere near the floor. Nena's coding allowed her to walk beneath their feet and she resisted the temptation to tickle anyone. She watched the tablet settle next to her feet.
"It's cold," Bates noted.
"Extremely," Zelenka said to this.
Silence, then – "At least it's not sewage this time."
"Much better, ano."
Nena's face rose out of the water, hair still dry enough to bounce as she greeted them. Elizabeth Weir, respected leader of Atlantis, did her best to stave off annoyance though her smile shivered with more than cold.
"Care to tell us something?" Elizabeth asked.
"Umm...well whatever Radek was doing – I know it's not your fault you poor thing – it locked down this section and displaced all the water in this room."
Bates thrashed around in the water and collided with Zelenka who pushed him back against the wall. The sergeant hooked an index finger over the bridge of Radek's glasses and ripped them off, sending them flying across the room. It smacked into the wall, plopped down and disappeared.
"Nepravý!" Zelenka growled.
Bates attempted to kick him, missed and ended up face first in the water. Shaking his fingers through his hair, he muttered, "I was trying to reach my radio, okay?"
"And did you?"
"...it's wet."
"Mine's gone also," Elizabeth added, wishing she hadn't been tapping her chin with the headset at the time. "Nena, can you – Nena?"
The entity of Atlantis frowned through the wall beside her for a moment. Her image shimmered out of view for twenty seconds and then wavered back into view.
"John has reported in," Nena said. "He says there's some weird guy with dreds and a bad attitude keeping Teyla hostage unless they send a doctor. Dreds," she repeated, eyebrows inclining towards each other.
"I think I would have preferred to watch the kettle boil than be here right now," Elizabeth said more to herself.
A splash announced the arrival of Carson Beckett. Slicking back his hair over the top of his head, the distinct lack of pointy hair made him look somewhat lost. At least he didn't stay immaculate, Elizabeth thought with some relief.
"Elizabeth, I'm no' sending another doctor and while I respect ye and – "
"Carson," she began.
"... and, what, lass?"
Resting a hand on the arm of his sodden lab coat, Dr Weir said firmly, "I wouldn't send any other. You have my total confidence. And if you...cross paths with Lieutenant Ford, do what you can to bring him back. He's one of ours and he needs to come home."
"Can I go too?" Zelenka grumbled.
Carson flicked a wry smile in his direction. "Sorry, Radek. To do tha', ye'd need to be part of the coding. Which means we'd have to get married and no offence, yer a lovely lad, but there's only one for me."
Bates covered his mouth with a hand and released a wet chuckle. The scientist blindly lunged out, found his nose and pulled him under the water. Elizabeth raised her eyes to the grey ceiling mere inches from her forehead.
"Make it quick, Carson," she said flatly.
"It'll only take a jiffy, I promise."
After a swift, hard kiss delivered to his wife, Carson vanished. Nena sighed and floated off towards Zelenka. Waving a few fingers in front of his face, she deduced that he wasn't entirely blind and said, "I'll need your help to fix it. I can't feel what's wrong but you've got a good set of hands."
"I need glasses," he pointed out, glowering at Bates.
Nena dived. Nena returned. A set of broken glasses appeared in her hand. Zelenka held them in one hand and looked like he was either going to pray or commit murder. Sighing, he perched them on his nose. "It will have to do, I suppose."
She waved and sunk back down. Zelenka followed, but not before using Sgt. Bates to kick off from. For half a minute, Elizabeth and Bates stared down through the relatively clear water, watching Nena gesture and Zelenka attempting to keep his feet on to ground. Bubbles exploded up towards the surface as the scientist returned, gasping for breath.
He ranted through chattering teeth and it took everyone present a while to figure out he was actually speaking English.
"He was trying to reroute the power from the lights to the door mechanism," Nena translated. "But I don't think he can see too well."
"Can't you do it?" Elizabeth prompted.
"Water affects my corporeality. I might generate feedback which would destroy the entire thing."
Elizabeth levelled her gaze at Radek. "Then tell me what to do."
"I've had training with underwater conditions – it should be me," Bates supplied.
Zelenka spat water at him.
"Sergeant, from what I can see," Elizabeth said, peering down, "there's Ancient written on the panels. I can read it so I will get it done quicker and I've had experience with cold water."
"Oh yeah, when?"
"Skinny dipping, Moscow."
"All yours, m'am."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hairy behemoth on the loose: check.
Thrumming concussion-induced headache: check.
The sound of imminent doom: double check.
Muffling the all too familiar whine of Wraith darts to the back of his head, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard focused on the indomitable shout of terror that Rodney McKay had practically patented. John wouldn't put it past him, actually.
Ducking low, he barrelled through the underbrush and stopped short behind a tree. Footsteps, nearby. Footsteps...behind him? Stretching out, John grabbed the shoulder of his pursuer. He squinted through the shadows and was impressed despite himself. But this was no time for amateurs.
"Beckett, get back to the cave," he ordered.
"If yer after Aiden," Atlantis' CMO entreated, "then I need to be there. It's my fault."
"I really don't have time to argue right now. Stay low, keep quiet."
John didn't worry about what would happen if a stray beam scooped them up – for one, Carson was immune to feeding and two...there should be a two. Oh yeah – he could shoot a whole bunch of them the moment they re-materialised him. Not exactly a comforting number two, but he didn't have a lot of options.
He heard the heavy trampling and solid fleshy thuds before he ever saw the silhouettes in the clearing up ahead. Both were engaged in a fight that didn't look like it'd be taking a round two any time soon. The smaller of them bent down towards a Wraith stunner. This seemed like a good enough time for an interruption. John stood to his full height and left the tree line, holding his P90 steady.
"Lieutenant! Don't."
Leaves whisked and swished behind him as Carson Beckett entered plain sight.
"Ye can come back, Aiden," the doctor implored. "No one will think any less of ye."
Ford's coal black eye fixed on him. "That's right, they won't. Because I'm doing everyone a favour. But you gotta let me have the enzyme – "
"No! I can't – " Carson protested.
"Then I can't come back yet."
"That's just stupid, Ford!" John bit out.
"You're only saying that because you haven't seen the flip-side, Colonel!" Aiden snapped. "And once you do, you'll know what I'm talking about. You'll see."
He turned and ran into an oncoming slice of light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elizabeth Weir tilted back in her chair and stuck her tongue to the roof of her mouth. The ceiling swam all different shades of silver and light blue as her eyes watered. She lost the battle, opened her mouth and sneezed loudly into her hand.
"Please tell me you have some good news," she said.
Zelenka, having located his spare glasses, was the happier for it. He beamed. "Ah, yes, well it was not a total loss. The original mechanism will take more time and resources than is wise to repair, so a permanent solution to the water is not so high in priorities. However, I have fashioned a temporary method of draining the area, if we ever need it."
Elizabeth rested the tip of her headset beneath her lips. "We probably will need it at some point. Good work, Radek."
Once he'd left, Elizabeth saw that Nena had suddenly taken up residence in his chair.
"I wanted to thank you," Elizabeth told her.
Nena smiled uncertainly. "I had an apology planned and everything."
"I needed a distraction and I needed to prove I could do something. Today's experience was one I wouldn't want to repeat, but if I ever am impatient again, I'll know what lesson to keep in mind."
Swirling blue washed over the walls as the Stargate activated. Both women quickly looked to it and watched as those important to them returned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carson Beckett had kept vigil at many bedsides since some fool had given him a piece of paper giving him that right at medical school. The vigils were never mentioned in exams, nor the heartache when the only result was a flat line. This time, in the midnight quiet of the infirmary, he could relax.
Amidst the figures of sleeping patients and shadows of alien machinery, Carson felt like he had been dissolved into the dark grey of the infirmary. A year ago, this would have been perfectly normal and he imagined it was. His greatest responsibility would be to the sleeping giant, from whose paw he had plucked a rather nasty Wraith thorn.
The constant hum wending its way through the canals of his brain reminded him otherwise. Married to the entity of the city, incorporated into the very systems...he didn't dare mention it to Nena, but in the depths of night he wondered if he was still human. Oh, it felt real enough, living with her in virtu-Atlantis. She was there now, as always.
Peeling back the latex that clung to his fingers, Carson tossed his gloves into the nearest bin. His skin greedily sucked in the fresh air, growing clammy immediately.
"You going to sit there staring all night?" his patient demanded gruffly.
Carson eyed him warily. "I was thinking about it. I could pretend to have something better to do, if ye'd like."
"I'll save you the time. I feel fine. Whatever you did, it worked."
"That's the painkillers," Carson explained with a smile. "I expect ye'd be back within a couple of hours if I let ye go now. They have set up some quarters for ye, but I understand they will be guarded."
Ronon Dex regarded him without expression, twitched his large shoulders in what could be a shrug and tilted his head to focus on the plexiglass windows that shimmered in the moonlight. "Don't blame them. I've seen and heard too much about the city of the ancestors already."
"Yer not planning on telling people, I gather."
"I was thinking about it," Dex drawled. "But I don't particularly have anything better to do right now than stay here."
Carson chuckled. "Good lad. Is there anything I can get you?"
"Yeah, some more of that stuff that makes you feel like wool."
Seeing the tightening around his patient's eyes, Beckett guessed that he was in more pain than he would let on. Silently obliging with the painkillers, he watched until Ronon abandoned his tense hunch in favour of reclining against the pillows before relaxing himself. Ronon shifted and patted the base of his neck with a calloused hand briefly.
"I'm not sure I can repair the scar tissue," Carson confessed after a moment.
"Not like I have to look at it anyway."
Point. Embarrassed, Carson remembered that his coding made him immune to many injuries while on Atlantis – though he'd yet to test that theory off-world. The prospect of never scarring frightened him.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked.
Dex's expression remained neutral. Carson took that as a no.
"What's your part of all this?" Ronon instead threw a query at him.
Dr Beckett scuffed a hand over his hair, which he'd taken great pains to gel properly once he'd got back from the planet. "Well...I'm the Chief Medical Officer and – "
"It's more than a job that keeps you here."
"That's true," Carson agreed. "My wife, ye could say she's from here. And our daughter is a wee thing..."
"What's her name?"
"Meredith Mary Beckett."
"Bit of a mouthful," Ronon said.
"I've known worse, trust me."
A cloud passed over the prominent moon of the planet, forcing deeper shadows over limbs and expressions. For a few minutes, doctor and patient sat in the relative quiet of the infirmary, until the corners brightened once more. The pensive moment passed.
Ronon wrestled with the sheets and kicked them off. He crossed his arms over his armour and launched his next query. "I heard you married a chair. That true?"
"Good Lord!" Carson exclaimed. "Ye've heard that rumour already?"
"So it's true, then."
"It's a little more complicated than that..."
To his credit, Ronon didn't spontaneously burst into laughter at any point of Carson's story, though it may have been for other reasons than lax acceptance. Midnight had long passed when the tale reached more recent times and months of exhaustion were by now doing a better job on Dex than any sedative. Stretching one limb at a time out of the chair, Carson offered a farewell around a yawn.
A hoarse voice paused his departure. "Beckett?"
"Aye?"
"How do you have sex with a chair?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And somewhere on a disused part of the South pier, John Sheppard found the perfect spot to establish a driving range. It was probably a good thing there were no residences nearby, or his triumphant whoop would have raised more than a few complaints from sleepy Lanteans.