Disclaimer: . . .Okay, it's been so long since I posted that I completely blanked on what to say in the disclaimer! I do not own Stargate: Atlantis nor any of its wonderful characters. I'm just playing in their sandbox. Any and all original characters and locations, however, are of my own creation and are not meant to reflect any particular person, either living or dead, or location, either real or fictional.

Author's Note: Yes, it's me! With a new Christmas story! Hopefully everyone out there is having a great holiday season, and I pray all of you are blessed. And that you enjoy this little snippet. It's got a lot of RL in it for me. My year has been insanely busy, and I'm finally learning to let little things slide. That way, I can focus on stuff like writing for all of you. Seriously, it has been that kind of year. Writing takes time and energy to create a coherent story, and I have had very little of that.

For those of you waiting on the last story in the Trial by Fire series, it is in the works. I got the first half of it written during November's NaNoWriMo, and then the Christmas season hit. I have one more big event other than family Christmas on my agenda, and I should be back to writing that.

In the meantime, I give you this!

This story is set post-Season 5 by about two years, maybe more. So, spoilers for any and all episodes might be in here. This story was lovingly-and brutally-beta'd by theicemenace. I asked her to be brutal, so the polish of this is all her work. Thank you, my friend. I am a better person-and a better writer-for knowing you.

All of that said, I hope you enjoy!

~lg

~oOo~

It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air.

~W. T. Ellis~

~oOo~

The mission could not have come at a worst time. Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne stared at Richard Woolsey, already trying to figure out how he was going to fit a resupply mission in with everything he had to accomplish before the day's dial-out to Earth.

Woolsey clearly read his face. "I'm sorry, Maj—Colonel," he said, still adjusting to Lorne's new rank. "Colonel Sheppard and his team are off world, and the rest of the teams are either coming, going, or in the infirmary. You're really the only experienced pilot available right now."

Rather than letting the frustration show on his face, Lorne nodded. "I understand, sir. What needs to happen?"

"Major Teldy's helping get the Jumper loaded." Woolsey walked around the desk and motioned for Lorne to follow. "All you need to do is fly it to Dr. Beckett's location, drop off the supplies, and return to Atlantis."

All I need to do. Lorne kept himself from rolling his eyes at the city's commander. Woolsey still had not learned that such statements tended to jinx missions. Instead, he nodded. "I'll leave within the hour."

The older man put a hand on Evan's shoulder. "I'll hold the dial out for you if you're delayed."

"Thank you." Evan left Teldy still loading the Jumper and stalked back to his quarters.

Why did Beckett pick today, of all days, to ask for a resupply run? Lorne knew it wasn't fair to hold it against the good doctor, and he also knew he couldn't let anyone feel responsible. But he'd been counting on escaping Atlantis to go to Earth, not another planet in the Pegasus galaxy.

The last several months had not been the easiest. Lorne snorted as he raced around his quarters to make certain he was packed and ready to leave for Earth. After spending two years on Earth, the IOA had finally allowed Atlantis to return to Pegasus. Lorne had signed up immediately, not really keen on leaving the City of the Ancients just yet. But he'd already been approved for ten days' leave when Atlantis flew home. He transferred that leave to Christmas and had been working diligently for months on gifts. He and his family had already made plans that packed those ten days on Earth to the brim, and Evan had been counting down the hours until he could leave.

Just where was he supposed to find time for a resupply run? He knew he wasn't handling this as graciously as he should, but he couldn't bring himself to really care at the moment. His entire life, save for those few precious moments he carved out every night, revolved around this city and the care of her citizens. He had new Marines to train on city procedures, his own missions to run, training with his team, keeping himself in perfect physical condition, managing Sheppard's paperwork, scheduling missions through the gate, and a myriad of other, tiny minutiae that came through his office. He barely found time to sleep most days, and that was usually because he dropped into bed exhausted.

He wasn't the only one feeling this way. He'd seen the haggard expression on Dr. Keller's face and knew her calendar had to be just as full as his. She and McKay were still seeing each other, but that didn't stop the new Marines—the same ones Lorne was training—from asking her out every time she turned around. It had started to taper off in recent months, but it bugged everyone who knew the Doc and added just one more thing to Evan's plate.

Teyla also had a full schedule, what with her position on Sheppard's team and her family. Kanaan had, miraculously, waited for her to return to Pegasus, and she'd set up a household within the city for the two of them. Teyla spent her days torn between training the female personnel in hand-to-hand combat, leading meditation courses, missions with Sheppard's team, and trying to keep her growing son happy. Not to mention her health. Lorne had noticed she looked a bit peaked the last several days and wondered if she and Kanaan would welcome a new little one to the world soon.

Even Sheppard, with his devil-may-care attitude, looked stressed. As the military commander and a full-bird Colonel, even more responsibility landed on his shoulders than on Lorne's. Yet, the man still found time to go through the gate.

"Yeah, because I'm doing his paperwork." Lorne shook his head. When he started talking to himself, he knew he was stressed. It was only a matter of time before he had another sleepwalking incident. He needed to get off of Atlantis before then.

Way too soon for his liking, Lorne found himself behind the controls of a Jumper and flying through the wormhole. The village where Beckett had set up his clinic was in the mountains. Sheppard described it as "perfect." The location, however, made taking a load of supplies to the village somewhat problematic. The people near the gate lived in comfort, but the more remote villagers. . . .From what he'd been told, they lived happy lives but suffered some very basic needs at times, particularly during the winter.

Today, the weather near the gate was crisp and clear. The mountains hovered in the distance, however, and billowing clouds above them promised more snow for the already white landscape. A quick glance at his instruments told Lorne that the temperature was barely above freezing near the gate, and he spotted several children throwing snowballs at one another.

How long had it been since he'd had a snowball fight? Lorne shook his head. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had time to engage in something so frivolous. For just a moment, he hovered above the children, just close enough to see them but not so close as to frighten them. They turned and waved before he continued on his way.

By the time he reached the mountains, the clouds had lowered, and winds had begun to create some turbulence for the Jumper. Evan let his focus sharpen, setting aside all of his thoughts to focus on flying. The coordinates weren't too far away by Jumper, but they were tucked down inside a remote valley. And the wind had started picking up snow from the ground and hurtling it at him, making it difficult to see anything.

Evan reached the coordinates using instruments only. He set down on what the sensors told him was a good solid patch of snow and felt the Jumper sink slightly. Powering it down, he reached for the winter coat that he'd barely remembered to bring with him and smacked the switch to lower the back hatch. The cold slapped him in the face, and he quickly zipped the coat to his neck.

Beckett waited, a smile on his face as the cold turned his cheeks a bright red. "Och, Major! I was expectin' Colonel Sheppard."

Lorne didn't bother correcting the doc about his new rank. He was still getting accustomed to it himself. "Colonel Sheppard's on a mission. So you're stuck with me."

Beckett stuck out a hand. "'Tis good to see ya."

Lorne eyed the sky as he shook the doc's hand, noting how dark it had become even though he knew it to be only fourteen-hundred local time. "Let's get this unloaded before this storm really sets in."

"Aye."

The two men went to work, carting crates from the Jumper to a nearby house. Evan didn't give the area a second glance, intent on getting back to Atlantis in time to make the dial out. However, he knew the truth. He'd had enough trouble getting to the village in this storm. There was no way he'd risk flying out. The winds were too strong in these valleys, and the snow had reduced visibility to zero. No, it looked like he was stuck on an alien planet in the middle of a blizzard rather than going home for Christmas.

He sat back on his heels and glared at the sky. Great.

~oOo~

Carson Beckett watched as Lorne glared at the sky and sighed. Now that he'd had a few moments, he remembered that the man had been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel and was scheduled to head home for Christmas. Instead, he was stuck here in a blizzard, helping Carson fill his storeroom with supplies from Atlantis. Couldn't Colonel Sheppard have sent someone—anyone—else? Carson knew just how hard Lorne worked and hated that he'd miss his trip just because of a resupply run.

Rather than saying anything, he merely picked up another box and carried it to the clinic. Coming to this village had been refreshing after the last years on Earth. While he'd been offered a post on Atlantis, Carson had chosen to live off world. He was more comfortable that way and knew that, sooner or later, he'd have to get over the hesitation he felt around his colleagues. None of them ever reminded him that he wasn't the real Carson Beckett unless something about those months between his "kidnapping" and his rescue was mentioned. But he always knew, always felt like he tried to fill a hole that never should have been there.

The storm settled over the village, turning the normally bright mid-afternoon to night within the hour. The temperatures had dropped drastically over the morning, and Carson had taken time to cut extra firewood. Now, he could barely see the buildings down the street from his home.

Lorne carried the final box through the door and stamped his feet on the stoop that had, somehow, not been covered with more than a dusting of snow. Then, he ducked inside the house and brushed off his dark hair. "I don't think I've ever seen snow like that."

"Aye." Carson took the man's coat when he shrugged out of it and hung it near a pot-bellied stove. "My first storm here was an eye-opener, as well. I mean, Scotland gets snow, but these storms can be intense."

Lorne moved to a window and peered out. "Doc, I hate to make a pest of myself, but flying back through that isn't a great idea right now."

Carson nodded, thankful that Lorne had come to that conclusion. "Aye, I agree." He turned toward the kitchen. "Would ye like some o' that coffee ye brought, then?"

A genuine smile touched Lorne's face. "That would be great. Thanks."

While Carson fixed coffee, Lorne wandered. He heard the other man walk through every room downstairs and knew he'd see the quintessential doctor's home straight out of a Victorian village. He'd been blessed with this home and loved living here in spite of the distance from Atlantis. The villagers were dear to him, and the few demands they put on his time were never unwarranted.

Lorne moved back into the kitchen. "Quite a set-up you've got here, Doc."

Carson nodded. "This village has been good to me." He motioned toward the front of the house, pointing at the staircase that came up from the entryway. "The bedrooms are upstairs."

Lorne looked around, taking in the pot-bellied stove, the large fireplace, and the crude indoor plumbing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think I had stepped into a Victorian village."

Carson chuckled at that. "Ye haven't seen the half o' it yet, Colonel."

"Make it 'Evan' while I'm here, Doc." Lorne shook his head. "I'm still not used to the rank."

Carson didn't even try to correct him. He'd become so accustomed to "Doc" that it felt almost like another name rather than a title.

Leading the way into the sitting room, called a parlor by many of the villagers, he motioned Evan onto a comfortable couch while he took the easy chair. From his vantage point, he could peer out the window and see anyone who passed by. The gloom of the storm made it difficult now, but he still smiled.

His attention turned to his guest. Evan sat on the edge of the couch, shoulders slumped as he cradled a cup of coffee in both hands. The steam rose into his face, but Evan never noticed as he glared at the silver tray holding the hodgepodge tea set Carson had chosen to use. Every few seconds, he'd glance at his watch, and his shoulders would fall a little more.

Carson narrowed his eyes. "I'm certain Mr. Woolsey will get you home as quickly as possible."

Evan's head came up so fast he winced as it wrenched his neck. "Thanks, Doc." He heaved a sigh. "I was planning to take my sister shopping when I got there. And to spend some time with my mom."

Carson did a bit of math, counting the days. Ten days until Christmas. The last blizzard had lasted four days. "You'll be able ta make it by then."

"Yeah, but not what I'd planned." Evan glanced away, clearly hoping to avoid discussing plans that were obviously cancelled. "Sorry, Doc. Just not in the mood to talk about it.

Carson let the matter drop and settled back to enjoy the quiet. The wind whistled down the street outside, and he began going over his plans for the next day. He needed to call on Deborah and check on her son, visit Abigail and make certain her wee one was survivin' his first blizzard at only a week old, and see to several elders in the village. A quick glance out the window told him that it would be a bit more difficult with the weather, but he was fairly confident he could manage. He just needed to figure a way to handle the cranky lieutenant colonel stuck in his home. Maybe, if that happened, he'd be able to help Evan Lorne enjoy Christmas even if it wasn't the holiday the other man had planned.

~oOo~

Evan wanted to kick himself. He'd always been unflappable, yet he'd sat in the doctor's living room, drinking coffee, and brooding over his circumstances. But he should never have been called upon for this mission. He had seen teams with missions scrubbed over and over again because one of the members was rotating back to Earth for vacation. Why couldn't the same courtesy have been extended to him?

Because you didn't insist on it. The answer came to him as quickly as he'd thought of the question. It was true. He hadn't put himself out there and insisted on staying on Atlantis. Now that he considered his actions, he could tell Woolsey had been waiting for him to protest. But he hadn't. Why? Because the easiest way to get anything done—and done right—was to ask a busy person. Evan knew that as well as anyone, so he usually took the weight of extra tasks on himself.

The afternoon passed quietly, with Beckett moving from his chair long enough to show Evan to a room upstairs and then adding more wood to the fire. Evan took a few moments to explore the rest of the house, marveling at what he saw. While Carson had made coffee, he'd spied the miniature Christmas tree, complete with a couple of wrapped presents, sitting near a brick-faced fireplace. Every window in the house sported pretty lace curtains. The whole place looked as if it came straight out of the Christmas village his mother set up on the fireplace mantle every year. Even the artwork on the walls, all of it hand-stitched samplers, lived up to the image in Evan's mind.

Finally alone, Evan took a moment to put his hands on his hips and think. The disappointment of not going home when he'd planned was keen, and he couldn't help wonder how much of Christmas he'd miss. He knew he'd find a way to wrestle with his nephews, but shopping with his sister was a maybe. As was painting with his mom. There just never seemed to be enough time to do anything, and it irritated him all over again.

Realizing he was working himself into a rage, Evan ran a hand over his face. While he'd been brooding, Dr. Beckett had been giving him the space he needed to come to grips with being stuck in a snowstorm. And not just any storm. Based on the way the wind hollered up and down the street in front of the house and rattled shutters and windows, it would be a rough few days.

Finally deciding that it was too cold in the room to stay without starting a fire, he glanced at his watch and headed back downstairs. It was suppertime on Atlantis, and Evan rolled his eyes when his stomach growled. He'd skipped lunch in favor of making this supply run and now wondered if he should mention something to Beckett. Not that he would. He'd already been exceptionally rude to his host and intended to make things right. "Doc?"

"In here." The response led Evan back to the sitting room. He found Beckett crouched by the fireplace, adding another log. Now that he was in a mood to notice, he also spotted the afghan on the back of the couch, more samplers on the walls, a beautiful bookcase filled with various journals, and one very happy physician in the middle of it all.

Beckett stood to his feet, wincing as his knees popped. "Did ye need somethin'?"

"Uh. . ." It took Evan a moment to bring his thoughts back around to his previous plan. "Just wanted to apologize for. . . ."

Beckett held up a hand. "No apology needed. I know a thing or two of wha' it's like to want to go home."

Evan nodded, remembering all at once that the doc would have a pretty good grasp on how he felt at the moment. Instead of commenting, he moved to the fireplace as Beckett puttered around with clearing the coffee set from the table. Then, he mentioned something about cooking supper, leaving Evan to his thoughts.

Rather than staring morosely out the window at the deepening storm, Evan moved to study the piece over the fireplace. About eighteen inches wide and eight inches tall, it featured soft colors on hand-dyed fabric. Somehow, it looked like Christmas without being overdone.

Beckett returned to the room. "Och, Deborah made that for me."

Evan turned at the warm tone in the doctor's voice. "Sorry. Deborah?"

"She's a single mum in the village." Carson shook his head. "Her husband passed about five years back, killed in a mining accident. Her son, Gavriel, took sick a week ago. She'd been workin' on that in the evenin's." He turned to the framed sampler on the wall. "She wanted me to have somethin' to remember this village by."

Evan's eyes narrowed at the way Beckett smiled at the thought of this woman. Did the good doctor have a thing for someone here? Is that why he'd stayed so long? Or could it be this house? "Well, I've got to say you've done well for yourself here."

"Aye, 'tis a blessing." Beckett stared into the fireplace. "I came here shortly after their last village doctor passed on. Not only did they need me here, but I feel at home here. The village is beautiful, an' I can ignore the rest of the galaxy. Especially now that most of the survivors of the Hoffan plague have recovered."

Evan understood that feeling. But he had to put in a word for Colonel Sheppard. "You know there's a place for you on Atlantis."

"Of course!" Beckett shrugged, his expression turning thoughtful. "But I don't fit there. Not really. Anythin' would feel like it was done to accommodate me, whether that was true or not. So, I'd rather. . . ."

"Live in a picture-perfect village and be a small town doctor?"

"Aye."

Evan chose not to pursue the topic. He'd never admit it to anyone, but he was somewhat relieved that Beckett had found such a place. He'd been decent friends with the original Dr. Beckett, and finding his clone had thrown most everyone in Atlantis for a loop. Rodney McKay liked to pretend that year without his best friend never happened, but Evan couldn't let it go that easily. He'd finally finished the painting he'd started the day the first Carson Beckett had been killed, and having this Carson Beckett around had helped him move on. However, having Carson on Atlantis and not as the Chief of Medicine would have been too much of a reminder.

While he was lost in thought, Beckett moved to the kitchen and returned with two steaming bowls of stew. Evan accepted his with a soft word of thanks and settled on the couch. This time, he relaxed and met Beckett's eyes. "So, how long do these storms tend to last?"

"Oh. . . ." Carson thought for a moment, blowing on a bite of stew as he did so. "Three days. Maybe four."

Evan winced. "Well, guess there's a first time for everything."

"Major—I mean, Colonel?"

"Never been in a true blizzard." Evan shrugged as he glanced out the window. All he saw was his reflection and hints of the white-out conditions. "What sort of recovery is there after this?"

Carson thought for a moment. "Basic recovery, mostly. A few roofs to repair, shoveling snow from the streets, puttin' down salt. That sort of thing. Nothin' that should delay your trip back to Atlantis once the worst of it lifts."

Evan set aside his meal and met the doctor's eyes. "Listen, Doc, I know I'm not too happy about being here. But if the people need help to recover, I want to know. That way, I can organize some assistance as quickly as possible."

Beckett took another moment to consider his words. "The biggest concern is the mine. Odds are good the miners holed up in there, an' I'd be willin' ta bet we'll be treatin' a fair number o' them for frostbite. Other than that. . . ."

Evan nodded and picked up his food. "Got it."

The two men ate in silence, and then Evan watched Carson stand to his feet. He took a kerosene lamp toward the front window and, using a long match, lit a candle there. He strained his eyes, barely seeing another candle in the house across the way. "Doc?"

"'Tis a Christmas candle," Beckett explained as he blew out the match. Returning the kerosene lamp to its normal location near his chair, he shrugged. "Me mum used ta light it every night during the Christmas season."

"I know what it is." Evan frowned. "You still celebrate?"

"Not normally." Beckett's expression turned sheepish. "I made the mistake of mentionin' that the town looked like a Christmas village. The elders wanted ta know wha' a Christmas village was, then about the holiday, and then about my beliefs. I'd been here two months before I found out they'd decided to observe Christmas on the twenty-fifth day of the last month of the year."

Evan blinked. "You introduced them to Christmas?"

Carson's eyes started to twinkle as he smiled. "Aye. They'd just been culled by the Wraith before I came, an' many o' them needed a reason to celebrate. So, we're celebratin' Christmas."

"Tree and all?"

"In the village square."

Evan stared at the gleeful doctor, already realizing that Carson had likely goosed things along as he learned of the villagers plans. Somehow, he could see that about the Scotsman.

Another thought crossed his mind, one he still wasn't too happy about but knew might be the reality. Maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to celebrate Christmas after all.

~TBC