Wow! Thank you all for the great feedback. I'm glad to know people are enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

And now, without further ado...

(Note: this takes place shortly after "Poisoning the Well" and before "The Storm")

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Elizabeth Weir found Carson leaning against the balcony, staring morosely into the distance. Frankly, she'd been worried about him. Since his return from Hoff, he'd become irritable and withdrawn. Unless feeling deathly ill, crewmembers were dealing with minor ailments on their own rather than listen to him snap.

She stepped up next to him, and for a moment the two of them stood in silence as they thought. Then Elizabeth asked softly, "Carson, are you all right?"

Although she expected him to snap at her, too, he merely sighed and gave her a sad smile. "Aye, lass. Just doing a wee bit of brooding."

"I haven't really had a chance to talk to you. I'm so sorry about what happened."

"I appreciate that, love. I guess it's just going to take time." At a look from her, he smiled wryly. "Have I been that bad?"

She laughed. "Let's just say that even Rodney quit whining and sucked it up."

Carson grinned and gave a look of mock horror. "Then something must really be wrong with him!"

Elizabeth put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "I mean it. If you want to talk..."

"UNSCHEDULED INCOMING WORMHOLE!" blared the loudspeaker. "MEDICAL TEAM TO THE GATEROOM!"

They both looked at each other and started to run.

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The sight in the gateroom was unfortunately familiar. A puddlejumper sat in front of the deactivated gate and two battered-looking crewmembers leaned against it. Two Athosians sat nearby, one with blood dripping down his arm. Overseeing the whole scene was Michelle Donohue, one of the most skilled nurse practitioners Atlantis had.

"What have we got this time, lass?" asked Carson after he'd quickly surveyed the scene.

"Actually, it's not as bad as it looks. Stackhouse and Wagner bruised about six ribs between the two of them, and Wagner won't be walking on his left ankle anytime soon. Leeta seems okay, but Jono over there has a nasty gash on his left arm." She paused as paramedics wheeled a gurney past them. "And poor Lieutenant Ford got himself whumped again."

Carson hid a grin. He'd suspected that Michelle had a crush on the handsome young lieutenant, but this confirmed it. How did Major Sheppard put it? "Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back to 'pretty boy' in no time."

Michelle blushed. "It looks like they were negotiating a trade agreement on M4X 995 when some of the local wildlife got frisky. From what Wagner was saying, it was a medium-sized wildcat. But I'm sure by the time the story gets around, it'll be a sabertooth tiger."

He clapped her on the shoulder. "All right, let's get started. It'll take awhile as it is."

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"Ow!"

"Hold still, Aiden."

Ford's voice was muffled under the sterile drape that covered half his face. "Can't you just use some funky Ancient device on it?"

"This isn't the movies! I canna just wave my hands and make your cut disappear!" Ford had a bugger of a shiner by his left eye and a small but bloody laceration above the eyebrow. Carson put in one last stitch and taped a gauze pad over it. "There, that's done... Where do you think you're going?"

Ford looked sheepish. "I guess 'back to my quarters' is the wrong answer."

"Gold star, son. I want you here tonight in case you have a concussion. Michelle's on duty -- she'll look after you tonight." He noticed that Ford looked considerably less upset after that. Shaking his head, he walked into his office. "If I didn't know better, I'd take it personally that everyone wants to get the hell out of here all the time," he thought.

A pile of medical charts sat on his desk, and next to them were the cubes he had initialized earlier. There were four of them, each about an inch tall and dull gray in color. A note next to them in McKay's scrawl read, "Dr. Kusanagi and I both couldn't do anything with them. Your turn to figure it out."

Well, he didn't have time for them now. Carson pulled the first chart towards him. It was Wagner's. He read Michelle's thorough notes with approval and signed off on them. The next one was the Athosian Leeta's, and was more complicated. Carson felt that he had a basic knowledge of Athosian biology, but he still wasn't entirely confident about treating them.

Take this next chart. It belonged to Jinto, the energetic Athosian lad who made a habit of getting into scrapes. Carson was baffled by this particular episode, though. Halling had brought his son when the boy complained of fatigue and abdominal pain. Carson had developed a list of normal laboratory values based on tests of all the Athosians, and Jinto's were just slightly off. Not enough to suggest any specific diagnoses.

Absently, Carson picked up one of the cubes and rolled it around in his palm. He didn't notice the faint blue glow that surrounded it at his touch, and soon dropped it back on the pile. He had a sudden thought, and quickly leafed through Jinto's chart. With a burst of satisfaction, he realized that he had an answer to the boy's problem. The symptoms didn't exactly match, but Carson saw that they very closely resembled a relatively uncommon infection of the digestive system. It would require several weeks of antibiotics, but Jinto should be completely fine after that. Carson made a quick note to contact Halling the next morning, and closed the chart.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched. Not a bad day of work at all. With a start, he realized that he was hungry. He hadn't had much of an appetite recently, but he was suddenly starved.