Chapter Two

Dr. Carson Beckett waited in the Atlantis Gate room with his medical team as the stretcher bearing Sofia Sutherland rolled through the Gate. Peter Grodin had given him a quick briefing on the situation before the Gate activated again, and he had been advised by Dr. Weir to offer as little information as possible.

He had agreed that it would be too much of a shock for the woman to learn that she had been rescued by a group of people who were as stranded as she had been for seven long years, only in much better surroundings than the lifeless forest that she had come from.

She had lost consciousness sometime between the lifeless hell she had been trapped on and the cool, comforting walls of Atlantis. The medical team rushed her to the infirmary, working feverishly.

An hour later, she was resting comfortably in a bed, hooked up to an IV that was returning vital nutrients to her malnourished body. Her eyes fluttered and she groaned, struggling back to a painful consciousness.

He stepped up to the stretcher, "Hello, lass, I'm Dr. Carson Beckett. You're in the infirmary on Atlantis and you'll be fine. As far as we can tell, there's nothing wrong with you that some nutrients and a lot of bed rest won't cure. How are ye feelin'?"

She smiled drowsily at him, "I'm hungry, but fine, thank you. Are you from Glasgow?"

"Aye, how did ye know?"

"My grandfather was from Glasgow and my gran was a MacDonald from Skye."

"I have a cousin who married a MacDonald from Skye, her name is Catherine and they live in Achacork."

"My gran was Catherine MacDonald, as well, but they called her Achiltibuie Cathy because she taught school in Achiltibuie before she emigrated."

"My cousin is called Glasgow Cathy, as there was already a Red Cathy and an Achacork Cathy in the village... it does seem to be a popular name on Skye, does it na?"

Elizabeth Weir, who had been watching this game of "Six Degrees of Highland Scots" with bemusement, cleared her throat and tapped Beckett on the shoulder, "Perhaps we could save this for another time, Doctor Beckett?"

"Och, aye, ye're right, Elizabeth," he turned to Sofia and smiled, a sparkle in his blue eyes and the dimples deepening at the corners of his mouth. "I apologize, lass, I should ha' remembered that Dr. Weir was waitin' to meet ye."

"Dinna fash yersel'" she said, in a fair imitation of his accent. Beckett smiled in delight to hear the sounds of the Highlands from a mouth other than his own and performed the introductions.

Back on the desolate forest planet, the team from Atlantis was about to enter the camp after checking for any signs of danger, or of life, of which there were none. It was a fairly tidy camp, laid out with military precision. A small, rustic cabin stood at one corner, a cook fire had been left to burn in the pit at the center of the clearing and a large pile of wood had been stacked neatly in another corner.

Sheppard called out, hoping that the rest of the Army team was hiding in the woods until they determined whether it was safe to come out, "I'm Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force. I work for the SGC and we are here to rescue you." There was no answer to his call.

The Atlantis team exchanged puzzled glances and Sheppard looked down at the dog tags he held in his hand, "We met Captain Sutherland at the Gate and brought her back to our base for medical treatment. We'd like to do the same for you, if you'd come out. We mean no harm."

The only reply was the eerie silence that existed on this lifeless world. Sheppard motioned his team towards the woods and they fanned out to search. Several minutes later, Ford called out, "Sir! I think I found them, and you need to see this!"

The rest of the team joined him at a small clearing about a hundred feet from the cabin and stared in shock at what it revealed. Laid out, side by side in military precision, were three mounds of dirt with makeshift wooden crosses. Placed reverently against the base of the crosses were empty, moldy boots and rusty firearms. Draped over the cross at each mound was the mate to each of the dog tags that Sheppard held clenched in his hand, held in place by the chain once worn around the neck of the men who now rested for eternity in this alien hellhole...