By Its Cover
By Ann3
Writer's Note: This is the first in a continuing series of 'first impressions' stories, just to show how deceptive they can sometimes be.
For John Sheppard's point of view, I've set this story as a missing scene for Rising.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these wonderful characters – although I kinda wish I did !
As always, I hope you enjoy, please let me know if you do !
Chapter One – Medical MacGyver
There were times, John Sheppard reflected, when he really didn't mind being proved wrong. Like the misgivings he'd felt when he'd first been offered this once-in-a-lifetime mission. To think he'd come so damn close to turning it down. Come so close to making such a complete…
'…ass of myself…'
That he'd been so completely, arrogantly, and now so regrettably wrong about his fallen CO.
'…semper fi, Colonel…'
He'd passed the same harsh misjudgment on another pivotal member of Elizabeth Weir's team.
Of course, his urge to drop kick Carson Beckett all the way to McMurdo had been justified at the time. After all, the Scottish doctor had just come within a whisker of blasting him out of the sky. But his apology, however nervous and terrified of reprisal, had come undeniably from the heart. Faced with such open sincerity, it would have taken another made of granite not to accept it.
Even so, there had still been lingering niggles of doubt in John's mind as they'd set out for Atlantis. Was Carson Beckett really the best choice of CMO for such a groundbreaking mission…?
Less than an hour ago, John Sheppard had still been harbouring serious doubts that he wasn't. With so many unknown dangers facing them, there were bound to be casualties, and losses, and… well, this jittery bundle of Scottish nerves hardly seemed qualified to handle such stressful demands.
In strangely perverse irony, that exact scenario had swept every one of those doubts from his mind.
No sooner had they returned to Atlantis than John Sheppard had taken his Jumper straight out again – joining a fleet of others to rescue their Athosian allies before the Wraith took their brutal revenge. They'd returned, by the skin of their teeth, with as many survivors as the Jumpers could carry.
Those same traumatised refugees had then descended on a still woefully unprepared Infirmary. Yet Carson Beckett had taken charge of their care in a transformation that had bordered on miraculous.
Admittedly he'd sworn several oaths at first, ones that had nothing at all to do with Hippocrates, but… well, that was probably more due to a box of supplies he'd been startled into dropping on his foot.
Within seconds, though, a furious glare towards the culprits had changed to wide eyed, outraged dismay.
"Bloody hell, Major, they're – they're just wee bairns…!"
Whatever an equally shaken John Sheppard had said in reply had been lost in a flurry of activity – all of it generated by the brisk Scottish brogue which had then cut effortlessly through the chaos.
"Right then, lads and lassies, this is what we've been trained to expect, so let's get to it now. And too many cooks ruin a bloody good broth, so I want three runners in sole charge of supplies. Since you were in charge of packing them, Max, that'll be yourself with the rest of your team. Everyone else, you're with me. Triage and red tags in here, sub-wards for the greens and yellows. And we've a lot of frightened wee bairns here, so let's make sure we don't traumatise them any more than they are already. Any questions...? No…? Good. Right then, people, let's get our sleeves up and get to work…"
They had, too, all following their leader's example with the same methodical, unflappable calm.
Staying sensibly out of their way, John Sheppard had become an increasingly humbled bystander. No one appreciated the importance of keeping a cool head in times of crisis more than he did. How critical it was for those in command to have the confidence of the people who served under them.
Carson Beckett had clearly gained that vital trust and respect, from every member of his medical staff. John Sheppard now proudly, if still somewhat guiltily, counted himself among them.
He'd seen his own share of hospitals too, of course. More often than he really wanted to remember. Very few doctors that he'd met in those times, though, could hold a candle to the one beside him now.
In bedside manner alone, that unique talent for soothing smalltalk, Carson Beckett left them standing. Unfortunately, that attribute was totally lost on his current, stubbornly unimpressed patient.
At any other time, John Sheppard might have smiled at the charming sight before him. One tiny child, making more noise than all others combined, running rings around a hapless adult. Then again, after what she'd just been through, neither of those adults felt much like laughing.
Little wonder, then, that kid gloves now replaced latex as Carson tried, yet again, to calm her down.
He'd already settled himself to sit on the floor, to make himself as unthreatening as possible, but… no, those continuing screams and sobs still betrayed a deep rooted fear of him that he just couldn't explain. All he was trying to do was listen to her heart. Yet each time he reached out with his stethoscope…
"Och, is this what's scaring you, wee lassie…?" he asked softly, following the line of terrified eyes – allowing himself a trace of a smile as telltale curiosity within them told him he was on the right track.
With slow, carefully unthreatening movements, he then lifted his stethoscope from around his neck – dropping his voice to yet another soothing level, almost to a whisper, as he laid it out across his lap.
"Aye, lassie, I know… it's an odd looking thing, isn't it…? I can see why it would frighten you, but… well, you see, that's a shame, because he's ever so lonely. That's why he sleeps round my neck. He likes it there, because… well, because he knows I'll keep him nice and warm and safe. His name is Mr Thumpity, and he's ever so nice. He's my friend, and he wants to be your friend too. He knows you're lonely, and scared, just like he is. That's why he wants to meet you so much…"
Sensing that children on Athos loved a good secret as much as those on Earth, Carson then smiled – making a show of looking around him, before dropping his voice to a playful, conspiratory whisper.
"Hey, you want to know how I can tell he wants to be your friend…? It's because he talks to me…"
That won him a still trembly-lipped, but so vital, frown of puzzlement from his young patient – and a just as curious, raised eyebrow glance from an equally enthralled John Sheppard.
He was way too old now for such stories, of course, but this one certainly had him intrigued. Magical stethoscopes that came to life…? Told you it wanted to be friends by talking to you…?
A quick glance around the shelves behind them brought its own, dryly irreverent conclusions.
'I gotta say, doc, I'm kinda wondering now what you've packed in these boxes…'
"…and you know something else…? Major Sheppard's friends with him too. Aren't you, Major…? And he's going to let you listen to them, to show you what good friends they are. Right, Major…?"
'Make that seriously wondering, and… say what…!'
Still blinking from this startling bombshell, John stared down into two pairs of expectantly hopeful blue eyes – dryly noting that those of Carson Beckett held the same child like appeal as those of his patient.
Promising himself payback for that expression at a more suitable time, John grinned back at him – guessing from a comically rueful wince that the good doctor had already worked that out for himself. For now, though, it was the slightly more serious business of meeting this mysterious 'friend'.
If truth be told, John had now guessed its identity as he sat down on the floor at Carson's side. After such a traumatic few days, though, the inner child within him couldn't resist playing along – his subtle cough and deadpan reminder met with another of those irresistibly likeable grins.
"Say, doc…? You might want to get Mr Thumpity nice and warm before he says hello… okay…?"
None of this made any sense, of course, to a still confused and frightened six year old child. The vigorous rubbing of a small metal disk against a bright white coat meant nothing to her. Nor did the strangely comforting noises which this intriguing new playmate then allowed her to hear.
But then, as John and Carson both noted in shared, genuine relief, that didn't really matter – because the tearful sniffles were, at last, giving way to the beginnings of a shy, spellbound smile. A new friend, it seemed, however strange it felt or looked like, brought the same reassuring comfort.
And when another held and rocked you so gently in their arms, making you feel so warm and safe – well, suddenly it didn't matter where, or how far he'd came from, or how funny his voice sounded. Such a snuggly friend was just so good to have, especially when he had his very own Mr Thumpity.
Yes, it was good to have this other Mr Thumpity for a friend. He made you feel so warm, so safe.
So sleepy too. So incredibly, incredibly sleepy…
After such an exhausting day, that soft Scottish brogue was almost sending John Sheppard to sleep too And while he knew he had far more urgent things to do than watch this masterclass in paediatrics – well, the success it now finally achieved had already convinced him they could wait just a little longer. After all, who was he to deny its teacher this long awaited, so very precious moment of glory…?
Not that he'd want, or take, or expect any credit for that glory, John mused, still quietly watching him. Just being here, doing the job he so clearly loved, was all this remarkable doctor would ever need.
Remarkable…? It was a term of respect and recognition that John Sheppard didn't give out lightly.
Just a few days ago, the chances of Carson Beckett earning a fraction of either seemed as likely as – well, as likely as bringing the Wraith back to Atlantis for a friendly neighbourhood barbecue.
He'd earned that respect and admiration now, though – just as Marshall Sumner had done. And while John Sheppard would always regret the arrogance which had denied his CO that honour… well, at least he knew he'd learned his lesson in time to never make that mistake again.
So those honouring words, when they finally came, held no cockiness, just heartfelt admiration – his smile conveying the same warmth as he recognised, and quietly lauded, Atlantis' unlikeliest hero.
"Nice work, doc…"
Startled blue eyes blinked back at him, in open surprise at this unexpected vote of approval. The quiet reply which followed bore no suspicion of those earlier, prejudiced thoughts – only the simple, straightforward honesty which formed the core of Carson Beckett's soul.
"Just doing my job, son. Just doing my job…"
Yet for all that, John still felt he had to say more, if only to ease his conscience just a little further – the warmth in friendly blue eyes telling him, with unspoken understanding, that he didn't need to.
So instead he accepted, and returned, the smile that followed in the friendship it so simply offered – sharing a wry chuckle of laughter as another new friendship took a charmingly inevitable turn. Magical stethoscopes, it seemed, could be loved by a sleeping child every bit as much as a teddy bear.
"Say, doc…? I kinda think Mr Thumpity's found a new friend to sleep with tonight…" he whispered – suspicion of past practice and experience confirmed by a rueful nod as Carson rose carefully to his feet
"Aye, lad, he usually does…" he sighed, the grin growing wider as he nodded towards a stack of boxes. "Luckily I brought plenty of his friends with me to… um… take his place…"
"Figures…" John retorted dryly, noting in quiet relief that Carson had been too distracted to hear him. As he'd seen at the SGC, and when they'd unpacked their supplies, this was one deceptively strong doctor. For all his gentleness and cheerily friendly nature, you crossed Carson Beckett at your foolish peril.
Settling instead for much safer, justly respectful ground, John followed him into an adjoining ward – watching in genuine pride as, with typical gentleness, Carson settled his still sleeping charge into bed.
Tucking Mr Thumpity in beside her, he frowned for a moment, before the grin happily re-appeared.
"Keep an eye on her for me, son, in case she wakes up. It's okay, I'll be right back…" he whispered – giving the startled John Sheppard little choice in the matter as he vanished into a nearby store-room.
When he returned, still grinning, a few minutes later, it was all John could do not to collapse with laughter. Okay, so a teddy bear made from rolls of gauze wouldn't give Steiff too much competition, but… well, you still had to give credit where it was due. And boy, was it ever due here.
"MacGyver would be so proud…" he said at last, shaking his head at such improvised brilliance – not knowing, though, whether to laugh at the slyly winked response or run for the nearest bunker.
"Och, that's nothing, son. You should see what I can do with some tin foil, a Hula hoop and half a dozen paper clips…"
Quite what this quirky, irrepressibly likeable little doctor had lined up by way of a demonstration was anyone's guess. But there was one point on which John Sheppard was now genuinely, and unshakeably, convinced. For all his eccentricities, Carson Beckett was one hell of a doctor. One of the best he'd ever seen.
More than that, he was their Chief Medical Officer – and for that, John Sheppard was truly grateful.
Watching him, all gently business-like seriousness now as he tended over his patient, John's smile proudly widened. Oh yes, he was grateful alright. He was very grateful indeed.