Elizabeth had sent them on a simple trading mission, same as the day before and the day before that, and why yes, she had expected some level of fuck-up. It was John and Rodney and they weren't the most tactful of her staff, but they always got the job done.
The first contact team had managed to secure twelve trading partners in the first year, six the second (they may have become known as the Wraith Wakers – Rodney's term), and nine the third. By their fifth they had bolts of cloth coming in twice a week, food shipments everyday; herbal medicines and equipment from one planet came twice a month to Carson's delight.
But in the interests of having things to trade with, Elizabeth still pushed for them to continue on the missions, gathering allies and supplies and trying to make a good impression on Pegasus residents as they went. So they went, looking for a list of items that started with apples and ended with a ZPM, which remained on the list even after they found one.
The Shopping List (John insisted it was said with capitals) had not included children.
"Major," she started.
The Gatrium was a source of mild chaos as some brave children ran underfoot of military personnel and medical staff who were trying to triage them; the rest of the new arrivals were huddled together as though expecting something terrible to happen to them.
"Long story," he answered, "but they're ours now." He set his weapon down by the main stairs, gesturing with one finger to his men to drop theirs as well, before turning back to the occupants and slowly approaching them.
He reached into the middle of the silent, clutching group and spoke so softly to them that no one else in the room could hear his words. Everyone watched the man as seconds passed, unsure what was happening, until John was able to straighten up, withdrawing a small child as he did so.
She was a scrawny thing wrapped in a tattered blanket that may have once been white, now dingy gray. The little feet peeked out from beneath the fabric were thin and Carson winced at what that meant for the rest of the wee thing's body. He could no longer hold himself back when she gave a small cry that was more a whisper than anything; Beckett plucked her from John's arms, wondering how any living being could be so light.
Looking at Sheppard, he asked, "What's her name?"
John only shrugged. He glanced to the children and admitted, "They don't have names." He frowned a little as he said it, upset that their parents had never even thought to give a name to the child they'd brought into the world, although perhaps by not doing so they could leave their offspring without guilt.
There was silence for a few minutes, expedition members looking over the children until someone in control called out, "She needs a name. No one who could..." there was a sigh and breath and the person finished, "Name her."
Faces turned and John realized they were expecting him to say something. He looked at Elizabeth, who only nodded at him and gave him one of her 'It's okay, John' smiles.
Shrugging, he said, "Abigail's a good name. Let's call her Abigail."