Dear Darleen,
Slowly I fear that this job will turn out a smidgen more dangerous than I thought.
I mean have you ever been in need to empty half a packet of aspirins in just one bloody day? I'm sure you didn't, since you would never get such a brain-racking headache.
How I incurred it? Well, I got smacked onto my skull by some enemy fighter cat lass and because of it suffered from what a certain Rodney McKay (my slightly nutty astrophysicist colleague) later called a 'minor concussion'.
The lad had no idea how much it hurt, really not. If he had only had a fraction of my headaches he would've wailed like bloody hell on doomsday. (He's a wee sensitive you must know.)
God, I wished you would've been here to console me. Sorry to be whining like this once again.
Lots of Love, Carson
xxxxx
Rodney groaned and smacked his forehead with a hand. Holy, it had been a minor concussion and nothing else. But of course the Highlander had to exaggerate again to prove manhood to his mate:
He didn't wail, but mad little Rodney surely would.
That was just too stupid, but perhaps Rodney could use this tactic to win Kate Heightmeyer's admiration, just let Sheppard smack him and then play the tough guy.
He decided to think about it, unfolding another sheet:
Dear Mum,
You were so right. Jobs with the military are just so uncomfortable. This time even the fact that I am non-military personnel didn't help much.
That pesky little bugger, Lieutenant Aiden Ford (nice kid that he can be) bloody told me to shut up all the time. All right, by this time we were all pretty strained and all, but he could've shown a wee respect for his amiable Scottish physician who saved (and surely will save) his little self several times.
But no, the lad had to turn outwards his authority although I was only trying to voice some justified concern.
Luckily we came to friendly terms again some time after it. Though he still claims that I merely got myself a concussion because I was only talking and didn't look out where I was going.
(He wasn't even around when it happened, the little know-all.)
Anyway, the concussion has faded now. You don't have to worry for your favorite and only son any more.
Love, Carson
xxxxx
Rodney tittered. So, he had been talking and didn't look out? This could be useful knowledge if Carson tried to tell him that he was doing the same the next time he'd run against a wall. This was just so typically Beckett. He sighed, another letter like this and he'd really start to feel compassion for the poor, always misunderstood Scotsman.
He reached out at picked another letter out of the still huge stack, really enjoying what he was doing.
xxxxx
AN: Thanks for all your reviews. So happy you enjoy this story.
Note to frozensheep: Your English is just fine, don't worry. I had to learn a lot myself (btw I still hate prepositions like hell).
