TITLE: Interlude
RATING: R
PAIRINGS: Beckett/OC
SPOILERS: The Return Pt 1
SUMMARY: Beckett centric look at the time they spent back on Earth during 'The Return Part 1'

Part One

"You'll be fine son," Carson said with a slightly exasperated sigh as he placed the clipboard with the test results aside, having needed to take no more than a cursory glance to confirm what he suspected, "No harm done."

He was pleased with the outcome of course but he couldn't helping think that if the soldier hadn't have been so bloody stupid and irresponsible in the first place then there wouldn't be any need for all this. That was the problem with many of these lads – always sticking things where they didn't belong. It would make his job an awful lot easier if they thought before they leapt every once in a while.

They were also rather more stubborn and argumentative than he would have liked and this particular marine certainly seemed not to be in exact agreement with the doctor's prognosis.

"Fine? Look at me, doc!"

"Really," Carson reassured, "It's not that bad."

Turning around, he picked up the closest thing he could find to a mirror - a shiny steel kidney dish – and handed it to the other man for him to check it out for himself.

The marine took one look at his albeit distorted reflection and then glared questioningly at Carson.

"Aye," conceded the doctor, "It's a bit red I'll give you that. But it'll go down in a couple of days."

'A bit red' was rather an understatement if he was honest. The man's face was covered in a rather unattractive patchwork of angry red blotches, as were his hands, arms, neck and, Carson, suspected, every other inch of him too. Medically it wasn't a problem but he had to agree that it wasn't exactly aesthetically pleasing.

"A couple of days?" the man complained, half sulk, half annoyed, "But I have a date tonight."

"Well," Carson advised with a hint of a smile, as he searched the cupboards for an appropriate cream, "Then maybe you shouldn't go around taking food from strange women on alien planets then, hmm?"

"She offered," the marine explained, absently scratching at his arm, "I thought it would be rude to refuse."

"I'm sure you did," Carson continued lightly, "Now stop scratching it, rub some of this on and it'll go down."

He handed him a tube of hydrocortisone cream. The marine didn't look impressed.

"But she's a biologist," he whined.

Carson looked perplexed.

"The girl I'm going on the date with," the marine explained, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and Carson was being really rather dense for not keeping up, "She's a biologist."

Carson remained at a loss as to what, if any, difference that should make and was still relatively unsympathetic. It was self inflicted after all and he had a lot of other things he could and should be doing.

"Then maybe she'll be fascinated by it," he said hurriedly, ushering the soldier out, "She might want you as a case study. It could be something for you to talk about."

The marine grinned, "I wasn't planning on doing much talking if you catch my drift, doc."

Carson looked skywards, "I really don't want to know."

"Neither do I," came a voice from the door and both men looked up to see Colonel Sheppard leaning on the frame, giving the marine a reproachful look. He dismissed the other man with a simple nod towards the exit, the marine having the good grace to look mildly reprimanded.

"And do what he said, Johnson," Sheppard called after him, "From now on you don't eat anything unless it comes in a foil package courtesy of the SGC, got it?"

"Yes sir."

Sheppard sighed and shook his head as he walked properly into the room. "Sorry, doc, I try to keep an eye on them but you know what kids are like these days..."

Carson laughed slightly as he sorted things out in preparation for the next patient. It was far too true. Since their return they had begun to feel more and more like the old veterans, with all these young, gung ho pups running around them, trying to prove themselves. Carson didn't mind so much. At least in his profession age was an advantage up to a certain point. Sheppard however seemed distinctly uncomfortable about the whole thing. And he was certainly irritated by the lack of experience he was forced to deal with, apparently unable to empathise that he had been just like them once.

"What was his name again?" Carson asked, glancing around for the chart he had put down earlier.

"Johnson," Sheppard replied, seeing the object in question and handing it to him, getting a thanking nod in return. He watched quietly for a moment whilst Carson jotted things down in typical doctor's scrawl.

"You can't remember all their names, you know," he eventually added, looking at Carson knowingly, easily reading the meaning behind his simple question, "There's too many people here. Too many coming and going. It's not like on Atlantis."

Talk of the city and how things were detrimentally different here was a subject that Carson would no longer be drawn into. It had been a month now. They had to starting getting on with things here and stop looking back so wistfully. It did none of them any good to keep wallowing in what and who they had lost.

Sheppard at least had thrown himself fully into his new role as leader of one of the SGC's prime first contact teams. Essentially it was a step down on the ladder but Carson supposed most things were when you had been military leader of an alien base in another galaxy. Still, Sheppard certainly had the respect of the men and Landry was sympathetic to his position, involving him the important running of the base as much as he saw fit. Even so, it was clear that John had been impatient, restless and rather snippy of late. Carson suspected that that had as much to do with having to leave Teyla and Ronon behind as it had with having to leave the city itself.

Rodney had been in a terse mood when they had last spoken on the phone but there was nothing unusual there. He'd sounded a little down too though which was certainly not like him. As much as he'd probably hate to admit it, Carson guessed that he was likely a bit lonely out there in Area 51. And bored too. He was sure that for a man of Rodney's intellect, anything after the seemingly never ending mysteries and discoveries that Atlantis had to offer was a letdown. Still, he'd heard on the grapevine that once he returned from visiting his family in the Czech Republic, Radek was due to join Rodney on his latest project. Having his old sparring partner around would undoubtedly cheer him up; or at least give him someone to rant at who'd make things interesting by arguing back. It made him smile to think that Rodney, who so often complained that he wasn't appreciated enough, hated it so vehemently when all those around him did was blindly praise.

The person he was most concerned about was Elizabeth. John and Rodney were outwardly unhappy and disappointed with the decision and let it show. She however still didn't seem to accept what had happened, unable to really come to terms with the fact that the mission was over and they were not going back. He supposed that when you put so much of yourself into something, it was very hard to have it taken out of your hands so decisively. Somehow she had made herself responsible for that city – her city – and letting it go was turning out to be a bigger wrench than any of them had imagined. They all agreed that she needed to get out, to find another position and to carry on with her career but so far she seemed to be content to live in limbo. Carson had promised himself that he would go to see her in a few days if she didn't show signs of moving on. Or started answering their phone calls at least.

As for himself...well, people needed mending no matter what galaxy they were in and so nothing really changed there. The people changed though and he wasn't afraid to admit that that did bother him. He missed his friends and, whilst it was true that most of them at least weren't exactly far away, it wasn't the same as the camaraderie they had shared whilst on Atlantis. As admittedly terrified and uncertain as he had been when they'd first gone, and despite all the dangers they had faced in the meantime, he'd felt at home on Atlantis and that feeling was unfortunately hard to reproduce. But as a start he could at least try to know everyone's name.

"It doesn't hurt to try," he replied cheerfully, not in the least bit embarrassed at being essentially caught out.

And why should he? Some doctors preferred not to know their patients, said that they worked better when they didn't get emotionally involved. Carson simply wasn't like that. He could very clearly remember how well his father had always spoken of Doctor Newman who had treated him during his illness. How kind, friendly and caring the man had been; how he had always been an exceptional physician but also a good friend too when needed. Right up to the day his father died he was thankful for that man and Carson knew how much easier that had made it for him and all the family to at least know how well he was cared for. When he had become a doctor himself it was something he couldn't forget.

"Yeah, well I've got slightly better things to do with my time," Sheppard replied a little absently and then, realising how that sounded, added, "You know, I just have priorities elsewhere. It's not like I don't care. I mean if I meet someone and I don't know they're name and I've gotta work with them then, sure, I'm gonna ask. For example, this lovely young lady here. I don't know her name."

Carson looked up from finalising his notes, having honestly switched off slightly during Sheppard's little monologue, to see a woman standing in the doorway, giving the Colonel a very odd look indeed.

"Colonel John Sheppard", he introduced with a small smile, holding out his hand to her.

"I need to see Dr Beckett," she responded with a mildly perplexed frown.

Sheppard's grin didn't budge, "Aw, come on. Can't we even shake hands first?"

"I'd really rather not", she replied dryly, holding up her hand to show a bleeding gash there.

Sheppard nodded without missing a beat.

"You need to see Dr Beckett," he conceded, stepping aside out of her way. He patted Beckett on the shoulder, "I'll leave her to you, doc. I have some airmen to scare into submission."

"Have fun," Carson replied, with only mild sarcasm.

Sheppard grinned a little too pleased, "Will do."

"Well then, Imogen," Carson continued, patting the bed as an encouragement for her to sit, "Since when did translating Ancient text become so dangerous, hmm?"

"That's not all I do, you know," she replied with a small huff, the wound making her touchy although he wasn't sure if it was the discomfort or the inconvenience that bothered her the most. She walked over and perched herself a little precariously on the corner of the bed, unable to push herself up properly with only one available hand. He could see that despite her offhanded manner her brow was damp and her face a bit pale; clearly not as blasé about this as she seemed.

She watched for a moment in a rather apprehensive manner as he picked up various instruments and bandages and laid them on a nearby tray, before adding, "I was actually looking at some artefacts brought back from P3X 278."

"Really?" he asked, although his tone was distracted as he raised her hand up and peered more carefully at the wound.

"And I dropped one."

"That was silly," he said, still absent, his concentration fixed upon cleaning the wound as carefully as he could.

"Well I didn't do it on purpose," she reasoned, still a little irritable, flinching as he prodded a bit too hard.

"Sorry."

"It was some sort of earthenware vessel," she continued, brushing aside his apology as unnecessary in the circumstances, "I caught myself on one of the pieces as I was picking them up."

"Aye, well it isn't too bad," he said, finishing his examination, "It will need a few stitches though."

"Is that all?" she asked, looking at it rather grimly, "It felt an awful lot more dramatic."

He smiled, as he drew up a small amount of local anaesthetic, "You're not squeamish are you, Imogen?"

"Only when it's my own blood," she responded dourly.

Noting the way she tensed, he patted her arm reassuringly and added, "Nothing to worry about. Won't take a jiffy."

She nodded but he suspected she was still unconvinced. Moments later, local anaesthetic administered whilst she very deliberately looked away he decided a distraction was needed as he worked.

"I was sorry to hear about your father."

On reflection he probably should have settled on something more genial, like the weather perhaps.

"Thank you," she said after a long, heavy pause in which he cursed himself for being so forward. The moment was awkward and she seemed to feel obliged to say more even if she didn't really want to.

"The doctors you suggested were very helpful," she added, "They improved his quality of life no end. He only got really bad in the week beforehand. Up until then he was...he was very happy. He wanted to thank you himself but of course I couldn't tell him where you were so..."

Carson smiled a little, "Not necessary, love, really. Just good to hear he was so well."

Dr Imogen Cartwright was an anthropologist who had been for working on and off for the Stargate program for a number of years. A talented linguist, she had been one of a small group of people assigned to translating the increasing number of Ancient artefacts, tablets and repositories recovered as well as ensuring that all the off world cultures encountered were documented correctly.

Carson had met her in Antarctica, hearing the English accent around a couple of times before locating the source wrapped up inside numerous jumpers, coats, scarves, hats and gloves, trying to translate the extensive Ancient text found there. Apparently she wasn't very good with the cold but her curiosity about the place had got the better of her. He'd spoken to her lot whilst they were there. She was kind and friendly and he was admittedly a little homesick. It was good to talk to someone from his own continent at least.

The arrangement had been that she would head out to Atlantis with the intended second wave of personnel, one of many who would strength the science teams once the base was established and secure. He was actually rather looking forward to seeing her again, what with being further away from home than ever. Her father getting ill had of course put a stop to any of that. He'd heard about it from Elizabeth, curious as to why Imogen had never joined the project when her other colleagues had arrived. He'd written to her then, sent her and her father his best wishes and the names of a few specialist he knew of who could help. Her return note had been a simple thank you and a hope to see him soon.

That was the last he'd heard of her until a few months ago. A short letter to say that her father had died and to thank him for his help and advice. He had intended to go to Elizabeth and ask for the time off to attend the funeral; he knew Imogen had no other living relatives and it played badly on his conscience to think of a friend having no support on hand at such a time. But before he could ask, Elizabeth had gotten ill with the nanite infection and he had had to prioritise. By the time she was well again it was already too late to get back.

He was pleasantly surprised therefore to find Imogen working here when they had arrived back at the SGC. Apparently she was meant to at last be going to join the Atlantis expedition and had been cleared just days before the Ancients had arrived. It was beginning to seem that it simply wasn't meant to be for her.

He'd seen her many times in passing since he'd come back, stopping once to say hello and insist that they have lunch and catch up. She'd be nice enough but always seemingly in a rush to be somewhere else. Dr Jackson had assured Carson that it was nothing personal – she'd been like that ever since she'd returned to the program, apparently working very hard to catch up on the things she'd neglected to do when her father's illness worsened. Many times Carson had meant to hunt out her office, to go down there with a cup of tea and a friendly face. A mixture of too many emergencies and too many soldiers doing silly things that swallowed up his time had gotten in the way however. He supposed then that he really should make the most of it whilst she was a captive audience.

Much to his surprise it was her who spoke first.

"How are you settling back in?" she asked, apparently looking at his face to avoid glancing at the delicate stitches he was putting into her hand, "It must be odd to be back here so suddenly."

"Aye," he admitted, "But medicine is medicine no matter what galaxy you're in."

"You do miss it though," she said perceptively and he looked up a moment, considering his answer before continuing.

"Aye, I do. True, there's no place like home but..."

"It was starting to feel like it?"

He smiled a little, "Am I that obvious?"

She looked a little embarrassed, as though she believed that he thought she was being a bit too forward in her assumptions.

"I didn't mean-"

He cut her off, "No, you're right, love. I hadn't really realised how used I had gotten to being out there. I think I still have some adjusting to do."

"Well you are spending an awful lot of time on this base," she commented, "That's probably not helping."

He was quite for a moment under the pretence of concentration over tying off the last of the stitches. In reality her words had given him definite pause for thought. Firstly, she was again right and he honestly hadn't realised it until now. Here he was, worrying about Elizabeth not being able to let go and get on with her life and in truth he wasn't doing much better either. He had been spending an awful lot of time here, doing any and all shifts they gave him, only going home to sleep and collect his mail. He'd convinced himself that he was just trying to get back into the swing of things work wise – getting used to a new place, new staff and new patients. But maybe he was avoiding life as such. On Atlantis it was so hard to separate life and work but back here he really should make more of an effort to do so. After all, hadn't they always complained about how, as wonderful and as important as their work was, Atlantis didn't really allow them time for a life outside it?

He was also a little surprised to hear that she had taken note of the fact he was here so often. He'd seen so little of her since he had come back that he'd naturally assumed that his return was nothing more than a passing interest in her. Had he stayed on Earth or had she even come to Atlantis he might have pursued their acquaintance further. In fact he had briefly considered it whilst they had been working together in Antarctica but had decided it was silly and unfair to start anything when he was going away so soon and with such an uncertain future. The facts were though that she was pretty, friendly, interesting to talk to and he had always enjoyed her company. And you never knew until you tried.

Besides, it might go some way towards silencing his mother's constant and unasked for advice that he should find a nice lass and settle down. That he wasn't getting any younger after all. That it wasn't right or healthy for a man his age to still be single. He knew she meant well but...

"There," he said, finishing the last stitch, "All done. Let's just put a dressing on that."

"How come doctors can do such a neat job here," she said checking his handiwork carefully, whilst he retrieved yet more equipment, "Yet can't darn socks to save their lives?"

"Oi," he protested, "I'll have you know I'm very handy with a needle and thread, thank you very much."

"Well to be fair, I don't have extensive experience of physician's socks," she admitted with a slight smile, "But the ones I have seen have been very bad indeed."

"The exception, not the my rule my dear, I'm sure."

He carefully bandaged her hand, much more slowly than necessary but trying to give himself to find the right way to ask. Or at least the right opening to broach the subject. He hadn't exactly had much practice recently and even when he had tried to develop a relationship with Laura Cadman things had just fizzled out before they even started. It was a pity, but these things happened. And on the bright side it gave him excellent ammunition for him to tease Rodney about her liking him much more instead.

Much to his relief Imogen came unwittingly to his rescue once again.

"You didn't spend much time here before you left for Atlantis, did you?"

"No," he agreed. Since his return the SGC's personnel department had acquired an apartment for him in Colorado Springs and he had started to arrange for his belongings to final come out of storage. Before that however he had spent months living in glorified barracks in Antarctica and then his final few days on Earth barely leaving the base here. It had been a fair while since he'd been in a hospitable part of this planet long enough to call anywhere a home.

"I've been here so long now, I'm almost a local," she said with a slightly amused smile, "I could show you around if you like. There's not a lot to see, granted, but it might help you settle in a bit more and it'll give you an excuse to get out of here for a while. The fresh air will do you good at least."

He raised an eyebrow, "And just who is the doctor here?"

She seemed to take his jesting the wrong way and her face tainted slightly with an embarrassed flush, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

For the second time he cut of an unnecessary apology from her.

"It's a lovely idea," he reassured, "Thank you."

"Oh...okay...Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow would be perfect."

She smiled a little. "To be honest, it will be nice to get out of here myself. There's only so many strutting marines and burly soldiers a girl can put up with."

"Oh so you don't consider me 'burly' or 'strutting' then?" he said with a playful grin.

She pondered it for a moment.

"You're...a pleasant surprise," she admitted.

Carson was pleasantly surprised himself at just how well this was going when they were interrupted by Sheppard, half hauling a limping soldier into the room.

"SG-7 came under fire whilst retreating back to the gate," he said as a means of explanation.

Carson frowned a little, "Anyone badly hurt?"

"No, just Denton here," he said helping the soldier to pop up onto the bed as Imogen got clear out of their way.

Carson immediately started checking him over for any obvious sign of injury.

"Weapon wound?" he asked, suspecting that was what he was looking for.

"Bad timing and a twisted ankle," Sheppard explained, causing Carson to look up at him with a curious frown.

Sheppard continued to clarify using his hands to demonstrate.

"See, he dived through the gate, only he didn't quite time it right, came out at a bit of an odd angle and he rolled straight off the ramp when he came through."

Carson frowned, not quite believing him, "Really?"

"Oh yeah," Sheppard said with a slow nod, clearly not quite believing the ludicrousness of it himself.

"Right then, son," Carson said, trying very hard to look serious about not, desperately trying not to picture the scene, "Let's have a look at that ankle."

"I'll get out of your way," Imogen interrupted hurriedly, already having retreated to the door to allow them to get on with it.

"Are you sure you are okay?" Carson said, talking to her whilst directing a nurse to remove Denton's boot and sock, trying to do two things at once, "You don't feel light headed? Dizzy?"

"No. No, not at all," she assured him.

"Well take it easy for the rest of the day and if you feel unwell come straight back, understand?" he said, it coming out like more of an order than a suggestion in his distracted state, "Meet me here tomorrow morning. I'll redress that first."

She saluted with an amused smile and her bandaged hand and then turned round and left him to his job.

Unsurprisingly, nothing got past Sheppard so easily.

"Doctor?" he asked, raised eyebrow and questioning tone clearly wondering what was coming second if that was what they were doing first.

"Yes, Colonel?" Carson asked, the picture of innocence.

Sheppard smiled but said nothing.