Title: Braving the Storm

Summary: Carson is stranded on a planet just in time for a snow storm to appear. What happens when he takes refuge with a dear friend? Will John brave the storm to rescue his friend and bring him home?

Rating: PG-13

Spoiler: Set sometime in Season 6. Elizabeth and Carson never died and Ford never "died" on the Hive Ship.

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing

Author's Note: I made up my own words in this story for certain things so here are the definitions and pronunciations.

*srashas – means Mother in Laws

*Lansiah – pronounced Lawn-shah

*Pich (pitch) – a type of tree much like Maple tree.

*Brife – a type of tree much like Oak trees.

*Eilder (eyelder) – another type of tree unlike any on Earth.

*Rosha – pronounced Russia.

*Icha (ee-kaw) – idiot, dork, silly, etc.

*Hoa – the name of the planet.

*Chaia – a type of stone similar in look to granite but with the shape and texture of terracotta tile.

*Straya – fabric that is the smooth look of silk but has the softness of a thick chenille blanket.

*Britta – a form of chicken

*Brocha – like goat cheese

Part I - The Storm

White puffs of clouds floated through the sky like little swirls of whipped cream upon a moat of coffee momentarily blacking out one of the suns as it breezed by. Strong winds raged through the little village rattling doors, loose windows, and heavy winter clothes, ruffling the thick fabrics and wrapping them around their owners with the force of a three year old wrapping around his mother's leg. Flakes of snow drifted down from the creamy clouds, falling with the grace of a feather in the wind and landing on the unforgiving ground, melting into non-existence upon contact.

The temperature dropped several degrees making all in the village shiver from the unexpected cold, their breath showing in the air as little gray puffs of smoke. Every breath they drew into their lungs seemed to freeze the organs instantly making each continued inhale that much harder as the cold constricted their chests. The villagers moved about the small town in haste wanting nothing more than to arrive in their cozy homes to escape the weather that was currently descending upon them. Those who paid attention to such things as the weather knew what to expect and had warned their friends and family in advance so many of them had plenty of food to keep them through the potential storm, plenty of firewood to warm themselves and their families, and plenty of company to keep them sane from the inane presence of bickering wives or grumpy srashas* should it be needed.

Lansiah* looked up at the dismal sky with excitement in her blue-grey eyes, a fire within them that could rival the one that currently blazed hotly in her hearth. Though she was a child of the forest and currently in study to become a healer and the frost time usually killed all the plants, bushes, and trees she loved, she couldn't help but feel a child-like wonder about the weather as soon as it appeared. Giddiness always seemed to rise within her, warming her slowly freezing heart and spreading the heat throughout her currently freezing limbs.

Whistling sounded through the air as her axe swung down, cutting through it like a hot knife in butter, and connected sharply with the solid piece of Pich* that stood on her block. She winced as the reverberations ran through her numb fingers and trailed up her arms but proceeded to gather the rather miniscule amounts of firewood she'd managed to cut into her arms, placing most into the folds of her dress to make them easier to carry as she trudged through the already gathering snow to her modest home that lay under a collection of Brife* just a mere thirty feet away.

She walked through her front door depositing the logs of Pich onto the stone floor where a copious amount Eilder* logs mysteriously lay just inside the door blocking the path from the entry point to her fireplace. Giving a patient shy (Rosha* would never get the hint would he?), Lansiah carefully crossed over the wood and placed her own small amount on the opposite side of the deep, stone hearth.

Cold wind swept through the living area of her cottage rattling the wooden seals over the open windows as it went and causing her to shiver as the icy tendrils of the air caressed her exposed ivory flesh. Her long raven hair swirled artistically behind her, playing with the sides of her round face and painting intricate patterns in the air as it caught the breeze while she walked back outside to secure the seals; the last thing she wanted with this frost storm was to have a puddle of melted flakes beneath everyone of her many windows since not only would it be a mess later for her to clean up but it would also make keeping the multilevel home of hers warm.

The first level of snow crunched underfoot lending noise to the air where there wasn't one, the sound echoing for what seemed to her as miles though what was probably more like a few feet. Her sharp ears perked up when she heard the return sound of crunching coming her way and she skittered over to her wrap around, broad, covered porch to grab the closest weapon her hands touched. Sadly it wasn't more than a trowel but given the right hands the gardening tool could do quite a bit of damage to a stranger and Lansiah believed her hands to be the right one.

The crunching came again and Lansiah tensed in anticipation holding onto her tool until her knuckles visibly whitened from lack of blood and her long nails began to dig into the supple flesh of her thumb joints. She quietly stepped off the wooden porch, her feet barely touching the stairs as she glided off and into the swiftly falling snow, edging closer to her would be attacker.

"Lansiah," a very familiar voice called through the dead air and dismal weather. "Lansiah, lass are you out there?"

Lansiah lowered her arms as relief flooded through her and a broad smile brightened her face. "Carson?" she asked, stepping up close enough to see the Scottish doctor. "What are you doing out here?"

Doctor Carson Beckett trudged through the rapidly gathering snow, wincing every time he put weight on his right leg. His medical pack was carelessly slung over his arms and strapped to his back giving the already hunching doctor a more crooked look as he tried to spare his exposed face from the elements of the weather. He straightened when he came into view of the young woman and offered her a charming smile. "I came to see to a few of the village elders. The colder weather doesn't agree with them and they wanted me to make sure things were alright. One thing led to another and here I am."

"Where is Colonel Sheppard and his team?" Lansiah asked knowing that the phrase 'one thing led to another' meant that Carson had been essentially passed from one ailing family to the next like a ceremonial wine. She did not think the Colonel would leave the doctor here but she also didn't see him either. Her brows furrowed as she took in the way her friend was limping and wincing with every other step but she kept a passive face as he came close enough to touch her. If there was one thing Carson was, it was a stubborn patient so the less he suspected the better.

The pair of them patiently waited for the other to begin heading to the doorway of the inviting house, one wanting answers and forgetting her manners and the other not wanting to be assuming and just barge in. When Carson gave another painful wince, Lansiah took the hint and began walking, albeit slowly for her friend's convenience, to her hut making sure to keep a watchful on her companion as she went. She offered an inquiring eyebrow raise at the Scot earning a smile as her reward but he remained silent on her question so she shrugged and waited until they were inside the house before she asked again.

"Carson, where is Colonel Sheppard?" she asked as she led him to the living area where they both proceeded to shed their winter clothing and sit rather closely to the burning fire.

Heat engulfed Carson like a wool blanket toasted in an oven and making him momentarily forget the question. When an uncomfortable tingling could be felt in his extremities his mind snapped back to the here and now reminding him that he not only had a captive audience but a friend with him – a fact that he was grateful for since it was always nicer to have one's friends around when weathering a storm. "I sent the Colonel back to Atlantis," he finally answered after several minutes' pause. "The stubborn lad shouldn't even be here but he insisted on accompanying me. I can't blame him really; he gets stir crazy if he's kept in one place for too long and as magnificent as Atlantis is, she can be pretty suffocating at times."

Lansiah smiled at her friend's description of the Colonel and the majestic city. She herself had been a guest of theirs not long ago and though she could see how others were completely smitten with the wonderful, and even friendly, city, she preferred the wilderness of her home to the multitude of ocean water. The people of Atlantis had been a strange mixture of solemnity, geniality, business, pleasure and family to which she'd struggled to adapt. But there had been a sanguinity to the entire place, telling her that, if one had been taken away, the rest would suffer in there own, small way. Each person on the city had their own purpose to help keep the ship and her people working. It had been a truly amazing place to visit but she had found herself even more smitten with her world when she'd returned.

"Well," she said after studying the man before her with both the professional eye of a healer and the adoring eye of a friend, "I am not sure about you but I could use a cup of something warm and little bit of bread with jam. I do not have anything started for dinner but I do believe this is the perfect weather for soup." She chatted amicably as she walked into the kitchen, digging through her pantry for some tea and the bread before she turned her attention to the ice box for the jam. When she turned around to begin grabbing some plates and a knife, Lansiah had been startled to find Carson standing in the kitchen holding out the necessary items with a sheepish smile on his face.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought I'd make myself useful," he explained as he came around the island and began assembling the pot for tea while she sliced the loaf of bread and placed a generous helping of strawberry jam on the plate next to them.

She watched as he limped back into the living area and placed the kettle on the stone shelf in the fire to allow it to heat up the water and decided that now, while he was essentially trapped by the disastrous weather, would be as good a time as any to ask about his injury. "What's wrong with your leg? You're limping."

Carson stepped away from the fire, grimacing when deep, bone throbbing pain shot up to his hip but did his best to offer an assuring smile afterward. "It's nothing, just a silly little accident tis all. I'll be fine in a bit."

"I asked what was wrong, not what happened or would you be alright," Lansiah pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest in the stubborn manner she'd been accustomed to doing in her childhood. Hurt, whether faked or sincere she didn't know, flashed briefly across her friend's face but it was soon replaced with a laughing smile making herself laugh in turn. "Of course, I'm glad to know you'll be alright icha*," she chided with the tone of a sister though her feelings towards the doctor were anything but, "but your answer didn't tell me what was in fact wrong in the first place which was, after all, my original question."

"Oh, right. I sprained my knee while stepping into a rather deep hole. It's nothing to fret over though I'll admit walking the rest of the way over here might not have been the best idea I've had." The genial smile quickly faded from his long face giving way to a grimace as more pain shot through his leg. The limb was currently begging for him to sit down and stay off it for awhile but the stubborn Scot wasn't one to listen when it meant making himself at home in someone else's house. His mother would be appalled at the level of rudeness that would show and if there was one thing Carson wouldn't do, it was disgrace or disappoint his mother.

In his effort to appease the hurting leg, the doctor leaned to his left to take some of his weight of the limb but unfortunately his balance wasn't at its best right now and he began tumbling sideways towards the hard floor. Soft but strong hands wrapped around his torso stopping his quick decent with an abruptness that jarred his body and he found himself leaning on the slight looking young woman.

Lansiah had seen that Carson was about to fall over so she'd swiftly moved to break his fall all the while moving him into the broad, cushioned chair that she'd so often curled up in to read. The fabrics on the chair gave an 'oof' sound as his body weight was carelessly placed on it and the air escaped through the tiny microfibers and dust flew about the room, dancing upon the air like tiny wood sprites of the tales of old.

The kettle in the fire shrieked, announcing that the water had been heated thoroughly, drawing her attention to the briefly forgotten tea. She walked over to the fire, grabbing the piece of one of her thicker cloaks that had been torn to shreds on one of her many walks through the forest and used it to lift the pot out of the fire and onto the stone ledge just outside range of the crackling flames. After giving Carson a stern glare when he'd made a move to help Lansiah grabbed the small tray that held the teacups and began to pour the inviting liquid into the china.

"Drink your tea and eat your snack then I'll take a look at your knee," she instructed evenly handing him one of the cups and a slice of jammed bread. "After that you can take a nap while I make dinner."

"That's really not necessary," Carson argued thickly, the honey in the tea coating his throat making his voice heavier than normal. "I really am okay."

"That may be," Lansiah answered after giving him an appraising look. "But it will still do you good to get some rest. I am sure you have not gotten much since you arrived here." They way he averted his gaze told her how close her words had hit. She gave a satisfactory nod then drank from her cup. "Very well, it is settled. You will rest after I have examined you. Do you need help getting upstairs?"

Carson gave a deep sigh, one of longing and exhaustion. He set his now empty plate and teacup down back on the tray and heaved his tired body off the very comfortable chair, grimacing when his knee gave a deep throb of protest. "No thank you dear, I think I'll manage."

Lansiah didn't respond as she watched him slowly, painfully, make his way upstairs. Over the past few months she and Carson had formed a deep, if not a bit new, friendship and given his many trips to visit the elders, she had made one of her spare rooms into a guestroom for him whenever he visited. It hadn't taken long for her trust to have been earned by the mild-mannered (except when it came to his patients) Scot which alone said something given that her trust was, for the most part, hard earned and even hard to keep.

Blue-gray irises filled with longing, desire, concern, and adoration tracked Carson's every move, watching for the slightest sign that he'd need some form of help and only when she heard his uneven footsteps above her signaling that he'd made it to his room without problem did she relax her taut muscles and fluidly move about the main floor gathering supplies she would need during her examination.

After heaving a heavy sigh, Lansiah slowly made her way up to the second level. Carson Beckett was not an easy patient and she knew she would have a hard time keeping him off his feet while he healed, especially during something like a snow storm where he would pace just to be able to "do something". Preparing herself for an argument with the stubborn man, she walked into his room. This would not be fun.

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard walked through the halls of Atlantis feeling the calming hum of the city in the distance of his mind like a security blanket that he never wanted to get rid of. The doors to his quarters slid closed behind with a hydraulic swish as he slowly made his way to debrief Elizabeth. His posture was slightly hunched as he walked into the transporter and pressed the screen to the closest transporter to Elizabeth's office. It hadn't been long since he had been released to light duty and his still healing broken ribs were letting him know they hadn't appreciated the strain of sitting on the jumper for an hour followed by a lot of walking and carrying whatever Carson had allowed him to carry. Warm pain spread through his injured side with every slight twisting movement he made making his arm snake around it in protective instinct.

Booted footfalls echoed through the halls as many of Atlantis' military men walked through them, heading to their quarters or their friend's quarters to prepare for the next day. Keeping time on Atlantis wasn't always easy since there weren't any passing seasons to mark the changing months with so things like holidays always snuck up on the newest members of the Pegasus galaxy often smacking them upside the head with its abrupt arrival by the time they realized what day it was.

Apparently today was Christmas Eve. A few hopeful scientists and more than a few hopeful military men had pointed it out wanting the next day or two off. It hadn't taken Elizabeth much thought to easily grant their wish and give everyone except a few key personnel the next couple days off, leaving it to the department heads to figure out who the unlucky people would be to keep an eye on things while the others enjoyed themselves. Thankfully since Atlantis was comprised of many cultures, the people who didn't celebrate Christmas volunteered to keep watch while the others enjoyed themselves, only requesting that the same courtesy be given to them when the time came.

John had been happy about the days off; the people of Atlantis haven't been given many of them and they were desperately needed. However you can't expect everyone in the Pegasus galaxy to celebrate Christmas so when a call came in from Hoa* requesting Carson's assistance, John had been the one to voluntarily fly the doctor there.

He hadn't liked the look of the gray clouds when they'd arrived, flying through the dismal puffs with enough speed to make swirls in them like curly-cues in ice cream but Beckett had insisted that the trip would be a short one, in and out then they'd be gone so he'd reluctantly continued on, holding his reservations until a later date when he'd be able to say, "I told you so." Unfortunately when the time had come there hadn't been time to say the hated phrase. Between the multitude of patients that seemed to always appear out of no where and the oncoming storm, John and Carson had been kept quite busy; their only time of communication had been when the doctor had come up to him telling him to go back to Atlantis. Of course John had argued heavily about leaving Beckett behind but the Scot was just as stubborn as he was and wouldn't budge on his standpoint claiming that John needed to get back to Atlantis and rest – a fact that had made the Colonel's upper lip curl in disgust – and that if the storm got too bad, John would be the best person to organize a team and come back for him when it was finished.

Elizabeth's office came into view, brightly lit against the din of the gateroom. The Leader of Atlantis was obviously awake and waiting for him but John also suspected that she was currently drowned in work of her own as well and wasn't even aware of the time. His first instinct had been to tap his radio and ask Carson when Elizabeth had last eaten but his mind quickly reminded him that he'd left the doctor back on the planet and the chances of anyone else of his staff knowing the information wasn't very great. Sure the medical staff on Atlantis were all a very caring lot of people but, like Carson and John, they had their specific people that they paid particular attention to and sadly, Elizabeth wasn't one of them.

"Hey 'lizabeth," he greeted leaning as casually as he could in her door frame, his normal 'John Sheppard smile' upon his face.

"John," Elizabeth greeted, surprise coloring her voice and raising her brows making them meet in the middle of her face, "what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting?" The trademark grin on John's face turned to a sincere amused smile - just as he'd guessed. When she didn't receive a response her eyes roamed over to the clock that was located on the corner of her computer screen. Surprise was the first emotion to register on her face and apologetic horror was the next. "It's time for the debrief already? Time sure does fly when you're getting lectured by the IOA."

John's witty response was cleverly cut off by both of their stomachs growling at them, loudly demanding food in the very animalistic way.

"What do you say we do this debrief over dinner," Elizabeth suggested standing out of her chair and shutting everything down for the night. Her stomach gave another rumble making her look at her watch. It didn't come as a shock to her to learn that it had been almost twelve hours since her last meal but the lateness of the hour did make her blush slightly as she amended her statement. "Rather, let's do the debrief over a midnight snack."

"Sounds perfect," John assented easing off the door frame and waiting for Elizabeth to join him. "The mess should be fully stocked since the kitchens are used to McKay raiding it about this time."

Elizabeth smiled at the reminder of the bottomless pit that was Rodney McKay. If it wasn't for the trade agreements they'd made with other planets, the scientist would have eaten them into starvation long ago. "Yes I imagine it is. That means that you can eat something more than just an apple right?"

"Hey, I eat more than that!" John objected with a boyish frown. He screwed up his eyes in concentration, wrinkling the right one as the right side of his upper lip curled upwards in concentration. As it so happened he hadn't actually eaten more than that lately but he wasn't going to admit that to Elizabeth. "Besides, you're one to talk. You hardly eat more than a bird."

Elizabeth giggled like an older sister when John poked her side in teasing. She had the feeling that if his side wasn't hurting him he probably would have wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brought her in for a brotherly hug.

While three quarters of the base thought that she and John had "a thing" going on between them, the other quarter knew that the military commander's heart belonged to a certain Athosian leader and that he viewed Elizabeth as a sister that he had to watch over, protect and tease at all costs. She didn't mind the speculation, in her opinion it kept most of the occupants of Atlantis young, but it sometimes made her wonder about the intelligence of her constituents. She knew that most of their IQ's were probably close to ten times higher than her own but that also meant that they really didn't have any common sense when it should be applied.

Where on Earth or Pegasus did they think that this kind of interaction between them constitute attraction? Yes definitely. The scientists on the base were the smartest people on the base but they didn't have any common sense in between them.

The friendly banter between the Leader of Atlantis and the Military Commander of Atlantis continued the entire trek to the mess hall, easily lightening the mood and distracting them from the slightly more serious conversation that was to come. The light mood continued until after they'd grabbed their food and sat down – then the more serious debrief began.

Carson woke to the sounds of the windows in his room rattling as a strong gust of wind swept through the cracks in the wood, whistling at a pitch that would make dogs go crazy. For a moment he was able to imagine he was back home on Scotland in the middle of winter but the smell of syrup quickly brought him out of that fantasy the longer the Pich wood began to burn in the stone hearth in his room. Lansiah had obviously been and gone while he'd slept; he was in different clothing, his by all rights but not like his Atlantis garb. The pants he wore were light in fabric like they had once been thick but had been thinned out by years and years of wear and tear. His shirt was light as well, long sleeved and pulled over the undershirt he'd used for his Atlantis uniform earlier that morning. The right pant leg was rolled up to his thigh exposing his bandaged knee which currently lay supported and elevated on a spare pillow; the rest of his leg was supported as well but it was more to help with the blood flow to the lower limb than necessity.

With a small groan of discomfort as his muscles groggily woke up, Carson sat up, lowering his legs to the stone floor and scrubbing his hands over his face. The fire crackled in the hearth sending sparks every which way in the deep stone fireplace when the wood began to crumple as it weakened and the familiar feeling of home returned to the Scot. He knew he was homesick but it wasn't until now that he realized just how homesick he truly felt. The feeling threatened to overwhelm him but he refused to give in. He left Scotland oh so long ago and came to America to end up becoming one of the most recommended doctors in the country easily recommending himself to the SGC where he willingly embarked upon one of the most exciting adventures anyone in his family had ever experienced.

The decision to join the Atlantis Expedition hadn't been an easy one after all he had his mum to think about but in the end she had assured him that she would be okay. Sure he hadn't given her exact details because he'd signed a confidentiality agreement that went beyond prison on Earth if it was violated but he'd summarized it as best he could, explaining he would be able to work with the best in their field, technology he'd never seen before and make advances in medicine that he could never hope to do in his current place. He'd laughed hard when his mum had asked, "So it's like CERN in Angels and Demons, yeah?" Though he'd only begun reading the bloody book, Carson had gotten to the point where he knew what CERN was and reluctantly answered with an affirmative "Aye" before he went on to express his concerns about leaving her alone and his concern for her well being.

But his mum being the angel of a woman that she was she had quickly assured him that she would be okay as long as he was happy and kept in touch as often as he could. His heart broke when he realized that he wouldn't be able to uphold either amendment but he promised he'd be fine and told her he'd write to her as often as he could. "Unfortunately," he'd told her, "it probably wouldn't be for quite some time since I'll be very busy with getting settled in and work."

The morning he'd left for good had been an exciting one filled with misery at the loss of his home; while he'd been living in America for years now Scotland would always be his home.

A soft knock at his door drew Carson out of his memories to the lovely figure of Lansiah in the doorway. Her long black hair trailed over her shoulders bringing the oval face and soft features in to focus offering a stark contrast with the pale, beautiful ivory skin. The silhouette of her figure was accented by her slimming long sleeved shirt (which was similar to his own in both look and texture) whose pale lilac color accented the cream, thick undershirt beneath it. On her hips she wore a pair of jeans that she had borrowed from Lt. Cadman while she'd been treated on Atlantis. The material easily showed off her womanly curves and slim but muscular legs ending on the floor with an inch of fabric to spare drawing attention to her bare feet. Concern reflected in her slate eyes and for a moment the Scot thought he could tell that she wanted nothing more than to run over to him and hold him like a little boy who missed his mommy. But she remained where she was leaning against the door frame and letting the soft candlelight in the hall soften her already soft features even more.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently, her voice sending soothing notes into his aching heart.

He drew in a shaky breath feeling as though he hadn't breathed in months and it wasn't until a light prick of water hit his hand that he realized he'd been crying. Drawing his sleeve over his hand, Carson quickly dabbed away at the salt water leaking from his eyes like a Scottish rain weeping from clouds then cleared his throat hoping his voice sounded stronger than he currently felt. "Better," he answered with a smile as he tested his knee. Pain spiked from the joint but he could tell the combination of the wrapping and elevation had done it good. He gave her another smile, this time more genuine than the first and complimented, "You're getting good with your craft."

Deep crimson rose to her cheeks, warming her face as embarrassment changed her previously relaxed posture to awkward. "Thank you," she answered though he could tell she didn't actually listen to a word he'd just said. Lansiah was a humble young woman who rarely took a compliment for what it was. She normally found a way to dispute the statement, arguing against everything from her looks to her usefulness to how well versed she is in the art of healing and at times when – Carson suspected – she couldn't find a way to argue with the compliment she merely offered a polite smile – like the one she'd just given him – and replied with a curt but soft, 'Thank you,' – like she'd just said. "Dinner is ready if you're hungry."

"Sounds wonderful, thank you," Carson answered to cover the loud rumbling coming from his stomach. He pushed off the edge of the down mattress wobbling slightly when his blood pressure briefly dropped to dangerous levels before righting itself again in an instant. It was hard not to grimace every time he put weight on his right leg but he managed it, settling for wincing instead. He could tell that his host was already worried about him and he didn't want to cause her to worry more.

It obviously hadn't worked when Lansiah suggested, "I can bring you up a tray if you'd prefer to stay here."

Knowing that he would be wasting his breath by saying anything reassuring, Carson chose to politely ignore her suggestion by offering a coy smile as an answer before he began to slowly make his way down the reasonable stone staircase.

Most in the village didn't know that he preferred the comfort of Lansiah's home. It wasn't merely the company it provided, which was almost reason enough in and of itself, but it was the way the house was built as well. The villagers themselves considered the house a hut that was nothing worthy of note but what many did not know was that it was partially built into the hill that surrounded the back of it. The hill itself was beautiful; the slow rise of the ground showered with trees, grass, bushes and streams as it seamlessly connected with the Ohoa mountains behind them housing wildlife both dangerous and docile serving as food and pets for the people in the valley. Lansiah's house connected on the east side of the place, allowing for the sturdy staircase and spacious second floor that had been carved out of the stone that served as the base of the mountains.

All of the floors were made of the same chaia* (as the Hoan's called it) as that of the mountain, giving a smooth but strong surface beneath their feet that was easily heated by fire in the hearths in the winter when the temperatures dropped to below freezing and was kept cool by the small drafts the underground provided year-round. The countertops in the kitchen were made of the same chaia as the floors but were made out of one slab rather than several creating a more finished look to the surface than the flooring.

The furniture was made of Brife creating armchairs, tables, desks, dressers, cabinets, and beds that would last for years to come but the fabrics were made of Straya* which leant a homey feel to the place that most of the others lacked completely. A main rug similar to that of the Persian rugs on Earth decorated each room, covering the main portion of the floor that wasn't occupied with furniture and accenting the humble curtains and easy fabrics that surrounded each living space. Candlesticks hovered on the walls and tastefully decorated abandoned tabletops and cabinets. Carson hadn't yet figured out how the Burrow (as he lovingly named it) had running water but didn't have electricity but all in all he didn't ask either; if there was one amenity that he would prefer to have over the other it was water of electricity.

They walked into the kitchen with Lansiah's gliding strides slowing and matching Carson's limping ones. Carson swiftly moved about the kitchen, overly familiar with where everything was, and grabbed a couple bowls and a tray then headed over to the fireplace in the kitchen where a pot of stew was simmering. He placed the tray on the nearby table then put the bowls on top before he began ladling generous helping of the savory smelling soup into the ceramic dishes. In the vastness of the kitchen he heard Lansiah slicing a loaf of bread and placing the pieces onto a plate and once again the feeling of home struck him. Only this time it wasn't the home of his mother he longed for, it was a home of his own.

It came as no surprise to anyone on Atlantis when he began dating Lt. Cadman. Many supported him in the relationship wanting nothing more than his happiness to succeed but alas in the end he and the Lt. had discovered that though they shared many things in common, it wasn't enough to begin the kind of relationship they both were hoping for. They parted amicably and to this day were very close friends - often seeming more like brother and sister than friend and friend.

As much as he tried, Carson had never felt the kind of connection he longed for, and briefly had on Hoff, until he met Lansiah. She hadn't been too badly injured when they'd brought her to him – a few broken ribs, a broken arm, and a badly sprained ankle that had required surgery to repair – but it had been bad enough to warrant a few days stay in the infirmary so his staff could keep an eye on her healing wounds and for signs of shock and/or a concussion. She along with several other Hoan's had been caught in an earthquake that had collapsed several homes of the village. The town itself hadn't been equipped to handle the multiple injuries ranging in magnitude from light to severe and had immediately jumped on John's offer of help when he and his team had stumbled upon the village.

He could tell that Elizabeth had been disappointed not to be able to establish a trade for food, food that they had desperately needed at the time, but he also knew the leader of Atlantis had a caring heart and had no problem in sending him with a team straight to the planet. After five hours two more teams had come surrounded by enough military men to make your own squadron. They'd quickly assessed what needed to be done and the marines in compliance with the able-bodied medics were swiftly able to set up a few medical tents where the less severe of injuries had been patched up. Four jumpers stood on stand by each manned with the best pilot Atlantis had for the worst of the injuries – the ones that required immediate surgery and other things – along with the best field medics the Earth military and medical profession had.

Every single person on Atlantis worked day and night for a week to clear out the collapsed houses, taking all of the injured villagers to Atlantis where they were housed while the men under John along with the villagers that had remained unharmed rebuilt the small town. It had been a grueling week but the members had traded in shifts so that no one worked more than twelve hours – with the exception of the department heads of course. During the week Carson, John, and Elizabeth had overworked themselves past the point of exhaustion managing to land the leader of Atlantis in the infirmary from dehydration, low blood sugar and exhaustion. John had soon joined her (and had be to threatened with restraints to stay) when he'd gotten careless and hadn't moved quickly enough to get out of the way of a falling beam earning him a badly dislocated shoulder in the process. Carson had managed to take catnaps here and there in between dealing with the casualties and the families of said casualties, surgeries, and new medical emergencies; those catnaps were the only thing that kept him from collapsing wherever he stood in pure exhaustion.

Two weeks after the earthquake Carson had finally had time to pay closer attention to his patients and he had gravitated towards Lansiah with the pull of ten gravitational fields. There was a strength about the girl that he couldn't define for it was hidden beneath insecurity and fear. Her flat out refusal to sit around and do nothing was annoying to say the least but it made fondness grow within his heart because it reminded him of Colonel Sheppard – who at the time had been fighting tooth and nail to be released so he could go back to work. Whenever anyone spoke to her there was a wary glint in her eyes and he knew she wouldn't be trusting any of them any time soon which was fine with him since she would be staying on Atlantis long enough for that trust to be gained.

Over the next couple months Carson spent more time on Hoa than he did on Atlantis helping to treat and monitor the injured while at the same time getting to know every single villager and earning their trust. At first he'd kept his distance from Lansiah; not only did he not want his attraction to the young woman known but he also wanted to let her make up her mind about him and to recover from what had happened.

One night after he'd finished with delivering a baby that had taken two days to decide to come, Lansiah had come to him carrying a cup of tea and a plate of britta*,brocha*, and fruit. She'd apologized for how meager the meal had been but said that he looked like he could use the sustenance anyways. They'd chatted amicably, sharing jokes and stories laughing at each other's idiosyncrasies and before they knew it dawn had come greeting them with the rainbow shine the planet's five suns granted. Carson had walked her back to her home where she offered him one of her spare rooms to sleep in claiming he looked exhausted and needed the rest. He'd accepted her offer only after arguing and denying for twenty minutes hadn't worked and had the best sleep he'd ever had in his entire life.

"What are you thinking about?" Lansiah asked breaking into his thoughts with the grace of a battleaxe opening a jar.

"Hm?" Carson asked bringing his blue eyes into focus upon her beautiful face.

"You had a far off look in your eyes. I thought you might be thinking about something." Lansiah spooned a generous helping of stew into her mouth then used her hand to cover up the mess that dribbled out when her lips couldn't connect fully. Embarrassment once again colored her cheeks but Carson remained quiet feigning ignorance.

"The stew is incredible," he complimented easily ignoring her question. He grabbed a slice of bread spread with a thin coating of butter and bit in, savoring the flavor of the sourdough bread and the creamery butter.

"Thank you. My father taught me everything he knew about cooking; he was well known for his cooking throughout Hoasha, sometimes he was hired to cook for the assemblies when they met with people from other planets." Her voice quieted the longer she talked and her eyes grew sad and distant at the same time as memories obviously swirled around in her mind making her lose touch with the current reality.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon them blanketing them in its oppressive thickness. Carson knew that Lansiah had lost her father at an early age but she hadn't spoken of him or her experience much beyond saying that he'd died when she was ten leaving her mother to care for her on her own until she succumbed to her grief five years later. Ever since then Lansiah had been on her own, fending for herself and learning what she could for her chosen profession naturally by trial and error. She's actually getting quite good at the art of healing but Carson knew there were a few things he could teach her if she wanted him to.

He finished the stew and bread then limped over to the sink where he began cleaning the dishes, breathing in the sharp scent of pine as the soap lathered and expanded. He wasn't sure how she did it but she managed to make the soap smell wonderful without having any of the scent rub off on the dishes. He twisted around grabbed the empty plate where the slices of bread had been and began washing it while Lansiah silently, almost mechanically, grabbed a metal pot similar to a dutch oven and poured the leftover stew into it before placing it inside the ice box that served as her refrigerator, effectively preserving it until lunch tomorrow.

After the dishes had been dried and put away and the remnants of dinner cleaned up, the two of them went into the living area curling into their respective chairs watching the fire burn in the hearth and listening it crackle as the wind howled desperately outside.

Curious about the progression of the storm, Carson got out of his chair and limped over to door, peering through the glass window of it to watch the wind blow and the snow paint curling patterns in the air as it swirled around. He felt a presence next to him as Lansiah came over to join him but didn't comment, merely wrapped an arm around her beyond happy when she didn't pull away and melted into his touch, curling into him and wrapping her arms around him.

They stood by the window watching the storm pour down over them for what felt like five seconds but was actually closer to thirty minutes before Carson's knee began complaining about the weight it was taking. He grimaced and shifted so he wasn't putting so much pressure on it but Lansiah pulled away studying him with concern etched on her lovely features. She leaned up and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek before she moved away, slightly pulling his arm as she did so. "Come on," she said nudging him towards the stairs, "it's time for bed."

Carson gave a great yawn. "Aye I believe you're right. I'm sure the storm will have finished by tomorrow."

Sadness crept into the adamantium eyes, softening them to melted aluminum but Lansiah offered a small smile none the less. "Well if that's the case, I hope this isn't a normal storm and keeps you here longer." She paused waiting with anxiety until he gave her a warm smile of agreement and appreciation before she added with a warm, blushing smile of her own, "Good night Carson."

"Goodnight Lansiah," Carson wished as he watched her float back and forth as she walked down the hall to her room. He went into his own room, wondering if he'd be able to sleep at all given the thoughts that were whirling around in his head. Eventually pain and exhaustion won and the Scottish doctor fell asleep with the widest of grins spread across his almost angelic face.

Well that's the end of part one - what did you all think?