In which it's noted that spleen venting is a valid form of self-expression.

Reasonable Cause to Suspect

By EllieV

Chapter 14

Carson Beckett came to with a start and pulled off the paper that had stuck to his face. He blinked blearily at the clock and then at his reflection in the glass. Oh, very attractive, Carson, he thought. He ran his hands through his hair and debated whether or not to change. He looked properly rumpled, as a hard-working doctor should, but he wanted to avoid anymore searching gazes. His heart stopped a moment: what if Stretton had spoken to Sheppard about him? Would he have done that? He considered those icy blue eyes and the unexpected kindness in them―no, he wouldn't have said anything. Beckett would talk to Sheppard but now probably wasn't a good time. When was it ever?

He decided to get some breakfast and headed towards the mess. Tea and toast: it fixed a lot of problems. It was still early, too early for most people to be up at all, but Chatham was sitting nursing a large mug. It said, "Only my dog understands me."

"Do you have a dog?" he asked.

She yawned. "A dead dog. He died last year. So, only my dead dog understands me. Cameron tells me I'm just a sad, sad person."

"You're pretty close," said Beckett, half expecting her to say, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She didn't. Chatham yawned again and said "I've known Alix―Cameron's wife―since I was three. They're my best friends. Aren't you close with people?"

Not as many as he thought or that he'd like. "Of course," he said. What if Stretton had told her?

She suddenly chuckled. "I've had a lot of snide accusations that we're having an affair," she said. "I'll even bet that people here thought it." She eyed him and he nodded. "We get that. We're friends. Even if we weren't, he's my boss."

"Is that hard?" Beckett asked, because it was easier talking about them than it was talking about himself.

"Sometimes," she said. "Like in that meeting. There's a line and I crossed it. Of course, we―Alix and me―play it up sometimes. One time, after some whispers, she came in at refs to have lunch with us. We were sitting in the middle of the canteen surrounded by all these plonks and Alix swept in, dressed to the nines, and said in a loud accusatory voice―her best QC court voice―'Katherine Chatham, you're having an affair with my husband!' It was hilarious. Cameron just put his head down on the table."

Beckett gave an appreciative smile. "What did everyone else do?"

"Dead silence, followed by lots of tittering whispers. Bunch of muppets," Chatham said scornfully. "Cameron got called into the Chief Super's office over it."

"He got into trouble?" Beckett asked.

"Apparently the Chief Super had a rant about transferring him until Cameron suggested he talk to Alix. This gave the Chief Super pause having been taken apart by Alix in a court case. She can be a bit daunting," she reflected.

"What about you?" said Beckett.

"Did I get into trouble?"

"Uh, I mean, your other half," said Beckett nosily. "What did he say?"

"No other half. Too busy," she said.

There was an odd note in there that warned him off.

"Can I ask something else?" he wanted to know. She took a sip of tea and nodded. "Weren't you a constable at the same time as Mr Stretton?" She nodded again. "Why aren't you more senior?"

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"He's a lot of ranks above you," he said. "Was it that you're a woman? Or that you wanted to stay with him?"

"I took some time off to do my doctorate. After that, I worked as a criminal psychologist for a while," she said. "Then I got bored and rejoined. Had to start at the bottom again. I've passed my board for DCI but admittedly, yes, I'm reluctant to leave him. Lord knows the trouble he'd get into."

"That's right," Beckett remembered. "Breen said you had criminology and psychology. You were a bit harsh on Dr Heightmeyer; both of you being psychologists."

"Was Cameron?" she asked.

"He told her to piss off," said Beckett. "You called her a social worker. I think she was more offended by that."

"Dr Beckett, we spoke for five minutes, her asking questions all the time, and not once did she say she was a psychologist. That's unethical," said Chatham. "I bet the American Psychologists Association code of ethics is pretty much the same as the British one. She should have said upfront that she was a psychologist and she didn't. If anything I was being rather more unkind to social workers that I ought to have been."

Beckett remembered Teyla's indignant complaint about Heightmeyer's approach to her just before the Wraith besieged Atlantis―Dr Beckett, shouldn't she have said that Major Sheppard asked her to speak to me? I felt very uncomfortable about her coming to me where other people could hear.

"She was trying to help," he replied a little feebly.

"I don't do touchy-feely, Dr Beckett, and you'd be hardpressed to find a copper who did," said Chatham. "I'm sure she was trying to help but look at the situation you're in. Do you think that someone, say like Colonel Sheppard, will go for doing something or would he go for talking about his problems? From what I've observed, most of your staff probably prefer to be out kicking heads in, even the scientists. You're like that." Beckett looked startled. "Oh, I saw your 'I'm a doctor' protest but you went and you were brilliant. Your Heightmeyer, I bet she's more of an Olympic torch. I'm sure she's good at her job and that people appreciate her assistance but with the pressure here and the potential for mental trauma I'm surprised you don't at least have a psychiatrist on your staff and a full compliment of mental health professionals instead of one psychologist who doesn't introduce herself as one. Me, if I wanted to talk about how hard things were for me I'd talk to my boss who is generally the person in the position of doing something about it." She checked her watch. "Speaking of whom, I'm due to meet Cameron in a minute to discuss the obbo. I'll see you later."

Beckett felt a little stunned. You were brilliant, she said, pointed out the conga line popping back up. Brilliant. You. Eventually he ventured up to the control room. Weir saw him and waved him into her office. Stretton was leaning against one wall, Sheppard against the other.

"Carson, good," said Weir. "I wanted you here as the Chief Surgeon."

Ah, said the conga line, Heightmeyer complained.

"I'm afraid Dr Heightmeyer is a little upset, Mr Stretton," said Weir. She was wearing her gracious voice.

He gave the perfect imitation of a John Sheppard unrepentant shrug.

Weir's lips tightened. "I'm afraid I cannot have you upsetting my staff, Mr Stretton."

"Dr Weir, I said I would step on toes," he reminded her.

"In the investigation," she said. "Dr Heightmeyer was doing her job."

"Uh, Elizabeth," said Beckett. "To be fair, Kate just seemed to be chatting. I was in the other room. She didn't say she was a psychologist. If the officers don't wish to speak to her in a professional capacity then that should be it. I'll have a word to her."

Stretton immediately turned to Weir. "I have an obbo to prepare, Dr Weir. Excuse me." He left and Beckett was amused to see Sheppard looked slightly jealous at his quick escape. That's because you just recognized yourself there, laddie, and wish you could do the same thing when you're in trouble, he said to Sheppard silently.

Weir pursed her lips and shut her office door. She looked annoyed and frustrated. "He's so … superior."

"I like him," said Beckett. "He's upfront and he's fair."

"I'm surprised to hear that from you, Carson," said Weir. "After what he said, even if he did apologize."

Beckett paused and the conga line gave him a nudge towards honesty. "Elizabeth, the reason Mr Stretton was rude to Kate Heightmeyer was because I was in the next room falling apart." There he said it. "I didn't want her to see it and he realized that. He got rid of her by telling her to piss off."

Weir looked startled and Sheppard looked at his feet. "It's been pretty tough on you lately, Carson," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Like you said to Major Lorne, Colonel, it's not your fault," said Beckett tightly.

"Carson, why don't we talk later," offered Weir. "You know you can do that."

Weir was at the top of his list of people to avoid talking over problems with so he smiled, nodded, and said, "I know. Thank you, Elizabeth." He changed the subject so she wouldn't pursue it. Sheppard looked worried but he didn't say anything. "I was going to find out what their plans are for the Genii. Mr Stretton said that DS Tynan"―the conga line booed―"would be their nuclear physicist."

"Yes," she frowned. "I don't think that's a good idea. I'm sure one of our real nuclear physicists could actually do it."

"Mr Stretton said that DS Tynan was very good at pretending to be other people," said Beckett and his brain paused for a moment and started ticking over.

Sheppard gazed out of the window down into the gateroom. "That might explain a few things," he said.

"He's worked as an undercover police officer," Beckett explained. "DI Chatham mentioned some section of The Met in one of our meetings. I think they do covert policing."

"Zelenka's going to go over everything with him," said Sheppard. "I'll go see what they're doing." He didn't look at Beckett but said, "Coming Carson?"

Sheppard nodded at Weir and left. Beckett followed him, not without some trepidation, but Sheppard didn't say anything until they were well away from the control room. He pulled Beckett into an empty lab. The door shut and Beckett took a moment to admire Sheppard's mental control over the Ancient systems.

"Define falling apart," he said. He looked worried again.

Beckett said neutrally, "Mr Stretton described it as a near breakdown."

"How would you describe it?" Sheppard asked.

"I have a conga line in my head," said Beckett. Sheppard looked momentarily confused and then more worried. "Don't you have something like that, Colonel?"

Sheppard became very still and then reluctantly pointed a finger to the back of his head―the cave of my skull, as Stretton had put it. "Just here. Sometimes."

"You internalize everything," said Beckett.

"This isn't about me," countered Sheppard. "Have you talked to Heightmeyer?"

"No," said Beckett. "Have you?"

"Sometimes," said Sheppard. "When I need to."

Liar, thought Beckett. If you talk to Heightmeyer, son, you're only paying lip service.

"I don't like … touchy-feely," he said. "I'd rather be doing something."

"Yeah," Sheppard sighed. He bit his lip and folded his arms. "When did this start?"

About five minutes after I arrived in Atlantis, Beckett wanted to say. Instead he said, "When Rodney disappeared. It's … it's just one thing after another at the moment. Them arriving"―Sheppard got the reference to the police officers―"didn't help. At first. It's better now. They're better now but they're shining a spotlight on …" Don't go there, warned the conga line. "I don't … I don't like being dragged about the galaxy, Colonel. I'm a doctor."

"What about Michael?" asked Sheppard softly. "The retrovirus was your idea, Carson."

Damn the man for slicing right to the heart. He stared at Sheppard and felt himself shaking. He forced himself to stop. "I know," he said simply.

"Why did you do it?" asked Sheppard. He held up a hand as though Beckett would protest. "I agreed to it remember. I'm not accusing or condemning."

"I know that, Colonel," said Beckett. "Maybe I'm just a mad scientist."

Sheppard let out a breath. "Carson …"

Beckett looked away. "I can't help you, Colonel. I can explain that I have a duty to this expedition; that I have a care for my patients; that I'm concerned about Earth; that I'm a geneticist; that I'm scared; all of those things. But when it comes down to it, I thought it would help people not die. Despite the fact that I experimented on sentient beings, I still do. And at heart I find it frightening that I'd probably do the same thing over again."

"You're a dichotomy, Carson. You may be a geneticist but you're a country doctor at heart," said Sheppard. "Do you think you can resolve that?"

Not a touchy-feely type, our Sheppard, no hand holding just direct and to the point, said the conga line. Beckett responded in kind. "No," he said. "And I've wondered if I shouldn't give it up and go home."

"I wouldn't like that, Carson," said Sheppard. "You're needed here. Not just for your medical skills. People like talking to you. They feel more comfortable talking to you than they do to Heightmeyer. I know that puts a hell of a lot more pressure on you."

"I don't mind that," said Beckett quickly. "I like helping people."

"Because it gets your mind off you," said Sheppard.

Damn the man twice and thrice over. "Yes, sometimes," admitted Beckett. "I suspect that works for you as well, Colonel."

Sheppard looked uncomfortable but the nodding shake of his head agreed. "Who does the Chief Surgeon confide in?" he asked. "I get that you'd prefer not to talk to Elizabeth."

"Do you?" inquired Beckett.

"No," said Sheppard in a not-open-to-discussion voice. "I'd rather just do something, too. I'm not very good at talking over problems, Carson, either my own or other people's."

"DI Chatham said―we were talking about mental health from what happened with Kate Heightmeyer―that she'd got the impression that most of the Atlantis staff would prefer to be out kicking heads in," explained Beckett. Sheppard looked amused at the mental picture. "She said she'd rather talk to someone in the position of doing something. What happens when nothing can be done? Realistically, what can we do about the Wraith?"

"We do what we can, Carson," said Sheppard. "Sometimes it's not enough. We're lucky a lot of the time and sometimes our luck runs out. For you"―Beckett noticed the qualification; Sheppard wasn't talking about himself―"I don't think it helps to bottle things up. Do you want to go home?"

"No," denied Beckett. "No one can resolve my dichotomy but me, Colonel. You know that."

"I know, Carson," said Sheppard. "But spleen venting can help, I think."

"Think I could throw a tanty every now and again, Colonel?" asked Beckett drily. "Might that not cause a few questions to be asked?"

The radio clicked and Teyla's voice came through. "Colonel Sheppard, Mr Stretton wants to know if you'll be joining them. I am going to the mainland this morning but will be back in time for the Genii lunch."

Sheppard looked annoyed at being interrupted. Beckett said, "We could go kick some heads in, Colonel. Vent our spleens."

"Do something?" Sheppard asked wryly.

"It's better than falling apart," said Beckett. "I'll let you know if that's going to happen, Colonel. You're better at other people's problems than you think." Sheppard looked awkward and reluctant to let Beckett go. "Colonel, do you ever think that if you do talk then things will get worse?"

Sheppard looked like he knew that one intimately and the door slid open. "After you, Dr Beckett," he said.

They met Zelenka outside the briefing room. He looked unsettled.

"What's up, Radek?" Sheppard asked.

"I have been discussing Genii nuclear bombs with these policisté," Zelenka said. "This Tynan knows too much. He said he has read books. He has done physics in his schooling."

"Maybe he has," said Sheppard. "He's weird but they all are. Maybe he's a nuclear physicist acting undercover as a policeman."

"Do not joke, Colonel," reproved Zelenka. "This will get back Rodney."

"I hope so, Radek," sighed Sheppard.

"When you're ready, Colonel," said Stretton.

Sheppard looked like he was wondering if Stretton overheard the "weird" comment. He gave an embarrassed smile and said, "Er, Cameron."

Stretton's eyes glinted but all he said was, "Thank you for your assistance, Dr Zelenka."

Zelenka looked nervous and scuttled away. Stretton inclined his head at the briefing room and Sheppard and Beckett followed him in.

"Most of this will have to be on the fly, Colonel. We have to confirm that the Genii have Dr McKay and they'll be guarded against that―if they have him at all. If this Kolya has him outside of Genii control, they may be more relaxed about letting us know. But, they may not know anything at all and neither party may have him."

"But you have forensic evidence," said Beckett.

"A mineral that may occur on planets other than the Genii," said Breen. His head was bandaged and he looked pale.

Beckett scolded immediately, "I didn't release you from the infirmary, Daniel. You should still be in bed."

"I'll go back after this, Doc," said Breen. His tone indicated a prime wheedler if Beckett had ever heard one.

"I'll escort you back myself with marines, if you don't," threatened Beckett. "Millwall supporter or not."

"So, what's the plan?" said Sheppard.

"Lunch. You're not invited," said Stretton. Sheppard glared. "They don't like you, Colonel, and your presence would be disruptive."

"I'm a nice person," said Sheppard mock innocently.

"Who singlehandingly offed large numbers of their soldiers," said Stretton. "Admirable, but not useful in this situation."

"Who will be at lunch then?" asked Beckett.

"Dr Weir and the Genii and Ben will stumble in to ask a question or something similar. Dr Weir will introduce him as a scientist new to Atlantis," said Chatham. "If they're keen, they'll ask what sort of scientist and if they bite on the response, Dr Weir will ask him to sit down for a chat."

"Elizabeth is okay with this?" queried Sheppard.

"I haven't put it to her yet," said Stretton serenely. "As a diplomat, she should be used to lying."

That was blunt, thought Beckett. Burn! said the conga line. Sheppard winced but didn't disagree.

"A technical issue, Colonel," said Tynan. "Your radios."

"What about them?" asked Sheppard.

"If it is the Genii, they have 39 of your radios and the frequencies that you use," said Stretton. "What else do you have?"

"We'd know if they were using our radios," said Sheppard.

Chatham pulled her hair down. It fell around her shoulders and Beckett took a moment to admire it. She pulled it forward a little so it hid her ears.

"See any radio, Colonel?" she wanted to know.

"No, but you're not wearing one," said Sheppard.

She pulled her hair back to show the earpiece. "They don't have to wear the mike to listen in on everything," she said.

"During the obbo, we'll be using our radios as a precaution, Colonel," said Stretton.

"Okay but can I ask a question?" Stretton nodded and Sheppard said, "What's an 'obbo'?"

"Sorry, slang. Operation," said Chatham.

"That'll be all for now," said Stretton. "Ben, bone up on your physics. Colonel, if you'd stay a moment? Dr Beckett, please."

Sheppard and Beckett sat down. Chatham didn't move but Barker, Tynan and Breen left, the latter promising to go back to the infirmary.

"Colonel, we've had this sort of conversation before―these conversations. Even if we get the evidence that the Genii or Kolya, as a renegade, are involved, we may need to let them go," said Stretton. "And I don't want any interference if that decision has to be made."

"No," said Sheppard flatly.

"I'm not going to argue with you, Colonel. I'm going to let you go away and think about it," said Stretton expressionlessly.

"I don't need to think about it," said Sheppard coldly. "If they have Rodney, if they murdered 38 of our people, they're not going to get away with it. You said that decision wasn't up to you. Well, it's up to me. You catch 'em, I'll deal with 'em."

"Go away and think about it," repeated Stretton. He looked at his watch. "They'll be here in an hour. I have work to do. I do not want you bollocksing this up. Stay away from the gateroom when they arrive."

He and Chatham left. Sheppard sat at the table in silence. Beckett wondered why he'd been asked to stay. Sheppard was still except for the fingers of his right hand which went up and down in a wave as though he was playing scales. Did he play the piano? He was good at maths, better than good. People who were good at maths were often also good at music. McKay had admitted to Beckett once that it was entirely likely that Sheppard, if he applied that lazy brain of his―McKay's words not Beckett's―would be better than most of the science team, including himself, at nearly everything. It had been a rare moment of humbleness for Rodney McKay's ego and a measure of the esteem and care in which he held Sheppard. Beckett was friends with them both but he envied their friendship.

Sheppard's hand had stopped playing scales and was clenched. He slammed his fist down on the table and said, "Shit!" He got up and paced a little. "I don't think he's superior, I think he's ffffff … damned annoying."

"Colonel?" said Beckett. He realized that Stretton had asked him to stay not because of his conversation but because of this one. Sheppard needed to vent just as much as Beckett.

"He's right. Shit." Sheppard stomped to the door. "Let's see what happens, Carson."

As the gateroom alarmed blared, Beckett waited out of sight with Sheppard. Stretton and Breen stood near them, arms folded, their eyes fixed on the gate. Weir paced up and down, her fingers twitching nervously. Chatham stood beside her in a marine's uniform looking like she had been born carrying a P90. She glanced back at Stretton. He nodded.

The Genii contingent came through the gate. There were four of them. Ladon, he recognized; the others were his aides, Beckett assumed. Or protection, perhaps. He looked them over and felt the conga line start to hyperventilate.

"Ladon," said Weir. "Welcome back to Atlantis."

"Thank you for inviting me, Dr Weir," the Genii leader replied warmly.

They chatted in nothings for a few minutes. One of Ladon's aides looked around as though searching for something or someone. Sheppard stirred beside Beckett, his feet shifting uneasily.

"Who is that?" said Stretton in a low voice looking at the man glancing around.

Sheppard shook his head. "No one I know."

"Dr Weir," the man greeted her. "It is good to see you again."

"Oh, he's a bad man, boss," whispered Breen.

"Yes, I do believe he is," said Stretton his eyes narrow and assessing. "I think you're wrong about Kolya, Colonel. I don't think he had anything to do with this."

"I don't know this guy but he does look kinda familiar," said Sheppard, the same narrowed gaze fixed on the man next to Ladon.

"Prenum," said Weir, an edge to her voice. "I can't say the same exactly, can I? Having not actually seen you before."

"Prenum's the guy who gave Elizabeth the nukes," said Sheppard, anger dawning in his face. "She thought he was in charge of their nuclear program."

"I think we've just met our chief scroat," said Stretton. "But it's more than that, Colonel. Look at him. I don't want to belabor a previous historical analogy because it will distress Dr Beckett but I think there's a reason he looks familiar …"

"That's because …" said Beckett, getting the same feeling as Stretton, as well as who the historical figure was.

Sheppard watched the fussy-looking little man who looked like he should be wearing glasses but wasn't. He leaned forward and interrupted Beckett.

"He looks like the chicken farmer."

TBC …

Notes:

Chicken farmer: Look at a picture of Prenum. He's a prissy little bloke in a uniform and he's the dead spit of Heinrich Himmler. Google Himmler's images and note the similarities.

Plonks: I've heard this in various forms. One was slang for female police officers but I've also come across it as an acronym for Person of Little Knowledge.

Muppets: Most Useless Police Person Ever Trained.

Chief Super: Chief Superintendent, a senior officer rank, usually in charge of a police station.

Board: an interview panel.

Olympic torch: cos they never goes out

Tanty: a temper tantrum

Policisté: the police. I don't know if I got the right noun in Czech there and if anyone reading speaks/reads Czech I'd be grateful for a correction if it's wrong.

Obbo: explained above. A police operation.

Scroat: a criminal.

Next: We get to know the lead scroat.