In which Carson Beckett has flashbacks of a non-chronological nature ...

Reasonable Cause to Suspect

By EllieV

Chapter Two

All he wanted to do was curl into a ball in a far away corner and wait until the shaking stopped. He heard the hysterical, hiccupping sobs of the young anthropologist, the one who he had thought would giggle all the way through the mission. Beckett forced himself to his feet and pushed Colonel Sheppard away, grabbing her shoulders to face him.

"Stop it," he commanded and slapped her across the face. She looked shocked but the sobbing stopped. Sheppard looked horrified and strangely helpless.

"Carson!"

It was Weir. She had that surprised, sorrowful look on her face, the one that said, "We've lost more people" and he forced himself not to shake her as well. He recognized his own shock, swallowed hard once and turned away from her. His medical team moved from person to person but here, now, there weren't enough people anymore.

Carson Beckett knew he was the King of Whingers but Rodney McKay, genius scientist, beat him hands down. Beckett would have rather been in his infirmary, doing "that voodoo stuff" as Rodney disparagingly called it-in between crowing that Elizabeth had suggested none-too-subtlety that Carson get some "fresh air" and Sheppard shoving a flack jacket at him-but it was an otherwise pleasant enough day for a stroll, other than the constant zzzzzzzzz of Rodney complaining about how everyone was doing everything wrong and about the heat and his delicate complexion. Sheppard was used to it but he wasn't here and Major Lorne's left eye kept twitching. Carson surreptitiously offered him some Tylenol.

Lorne whispered, "Think Colonel Sheppard would notice if I cut out his tongue?"

They both turned as McKay berated Dr Zelenka for apparently "reversing the polarity of the neutron flow." Beckett rarely admitted to being a geek but he knew a line from Doctor Who when he heard one.

"Exterminate! Exterminate!" he whispered back to Lorne who got the sentiment, if not the reference, and grinned.

Beckett had never been on such a big offworld team before outside of the medical ones that he had led. It had all the elements of a staff picnic. Ostensibly, he was there in case someone got injured. In reality, he was standing around doing nothing. Unless one of the scientists blew something up, he didn't think there was much chance of anything much happening at all. The discovery team had reported power readings emanating from the ruins but, as Sheppard pointed out, there were always power readings in Ancient ruins and that they usually led to him getting hurt at some stage. McKay had mocked the findings until one of the discovery team shoved his notepad under McKay's nose. Two hours later and after much shouting from McKay, 35 scientists, 10 marines, and one very reluctant medical doctor were assembled in the gateroom ready to head offworld. Sheppard had managed to get out of the expedition by dint of the sprained ankle he'd picked up in the last set of ruins-lucky man. Beckett decided that he'd find a nice rock, sit down in the warm, and have a wee nap, Rodney McKay's House of Buzzsaws notwithstanding.

Weir leaned in, touching his arm gently. "Carson, what happened? Carson? Where is …"

"Where's McKay?" Sheppard interrupted, his face tight and anxious. "Beckett, where is everyone?"

He could hear the giggling. It hadn't stopped from the moment the team gathered in the gateroom. Beckett opened an eye to see Major Lorne flirting with … he couldn't remember the young anthropologist's name. He couldn't hear what Lorne was saying; the Major was taller than the anthropologist-Jenny?-and his head was lowered as he said something in her ear. In the distance he could hear raised voices-McKay and Zelenka in argument as ever. Lorne turned away from the anthropologist, his head scanning the sky.

It went like this: Giggle. Zzzzzzzz. Giggle. Zzzzzzz. Giggle. Zzzzzzzzzzz. The giggling stopped but the buzzing sound went on and on and on.

Major Lorne's head flipped back awkwardly and he fell to the ground, arms and legs splayed out at a "dead" angle-just like in the movies, in slow motion steadycam. The young anthropologist, whose only sound all day had been a sweet, flirtatious giggle, started screaming and screaming, in a crystal clear "C" pitch, as though she was auditioning for the Scottish National Opera, as though she would never ever stop.

Then the light rained down from the sky.

"Carson? Carson!"

"They're dead," he heard himself say. "They're all dead. Please god, let them be dead."

"What?" Sheppard demanded. "Beckett! What the hell happened?"

He saw the science team fan out from behind the ruins, running as though-a cliché, he thought dimly-as though their lives depended on it. McKay was pulling Zelenka along. He had to move, he thought, he had to move. He stared down at Lorne, at the young anthropologist standing over him completely hysterical. He could see the beam coming down from the sky, grazing for food. He rocked slightly and finally, ran towards Lorne, grabbing him by the arm, shoving the screaming woman towards the gate.

"Move!" Beckett yelled at her.

"I got him, Doc, I got him," snapped a marine. "Get her to the gate, go, go, move it!"

Beckett ran, pushing the anthropologist ahead of him. One of science team had dialled the gate and stood beside it waving his arms for them to hurry in team-building encouragement. Beckett shoved the woman through and turned back, colliding with the marine carrying Lorne over his shoulders in a fireman's lift. They lost balance, falling into the stargate and out the other end into a jumbled heap. Zelenka fell on top of them.

The gate switched off.

It could almost have been funny. Almost. Colonel Sheppard paced up and down. Hobbled up and down. Beckett noted clinically that his ankle seemed better, not enough to go anywhere without slowing things to a crawl, but better than not being able to go anywhere at all.

"You're sure it was the Wraith?"

Beckett's reply was weary, "There was a dart, Colonel."

"Maybe it was Ford," proffered Weir hopefully.

"Ford's dead," said Sheppard.

Beckett and Weir winced at his bluntness.

"You don't know that," she said.

"Elizabeth …" Sheppard said. It was all he ever had to say when he wanted to make a point. Sometimes, Beckett mused, Colonel Sheppard didn't seem to respect Dr Weir overmuch. Her face tightened and she looked down, gathering herself, as she did when Sheppard challenged her. She swallowed.

"Dr Weir?" It was Teyla with Ronon, her hulking shadow, close behind. "The gate technicians say they still cannot dial into the planet. I believe the Wraith must be keeping the gate open."

Sheppard's voice was low. "How long has it been?"

"Five hours," Teyla said softly. "They could have taken refuge somewhere."

"Yeah," Sheppard said. "Maybe …"

"Teyla, tell them to keep trying until they get through," Weir said. "Send a MALP."

They came through cautiously. Beckett was in the third line, in the minimalist medical away team: himself, another doctor, and a nurse, the three of them sandwiched between four lines of marines. Sheppard had argued that he was going; Weir opposed him. Finally, Beckett had snapped that they'd already had enough problems with slow people today. He hadn't meant it, of course, but Sheppard's face had whitened-a whiter shade of pale-and he'd ordered Major … the one with the buzzcut … Beckett didn't know his name either … to lead the away team. Sheppard had paused before he said "away team" and Beckett mentally substituted "recovery team" for him.

It had taken 20 hours before they could dial in. There was nothing to recover. There was no evidence that anyone had been there at all.

TBC ...

Next: We find out that the policeman is canny and one to watch.