A/N: The term 'writers block' doesn't even come close to whatever it is that has been stopping me from writing more to this story. I've brought it up over a dozen times in the past week, only to find myself staring at this and being completely clueless. I think it's more of a case of 'writer's void'. But, you all can thank emergencyfan for her sarcastic wit that actually helped jump start this once again. Her daily word count on what she was writing was an inspiring challenge! That's what friends are for!

Chapter 12

Carson was deep into his next set of trials when the persistent beep of the radio finally tugged at his consciousness, causing him to look for the dreaded little piece of equipment and make the incessant noise stop before it woke his patients. A quick glance about the room proved that that hadn't happened and he tapped the call button. "What?" he hissed quietly.

"Doc?" Ford sounded a bit unsure at the Scot's tone.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

The young officer paused a moment, silently praying Beckett wouldn't explode at his request. "I know you're busy, sir, but I could really use your assistance down here at the gate."

Casting a quick glance around the room and not spying anyone else who could go and help, he sighed, "Is it an emergency? Are you sick?"

"No, sir, I'm fine. But..."

"But what, lieutenant? Spit it out, lad," he snapped.

"It's Dr. Kavanagh who needs you."

Carson leaned back and glared at the ceiling, this was worse than dragging something out of the major. "Is he sick?"

"No, sir. He's… he's… uhhh… kind of stuck."

"Ford," the Scot growled, losing what little patience he had left, "what do you mean 'stuck'? If he isn't sick, why do you need me?"

Silence.

A sense of dread washed over Beckett. "Is he bleeding?"

"I can't tell, sir."

Oh, well that's not good. "What do you mean, you can't tell?"

"It's kind of complicated. Could you please just come down? I… we need your help."

Sighing heavily, Carson clenched his eyes shut, trying to hold his own headache at bay. "Put him on the radio."

Ford's own sigh emanated over the radio. "Uh, I can't do that sir."

That's it; he just got pushed over the edge. "Why, the bloody hell, not!" he snapped.

"Doc, he's trapped under a malp."

Carson grabbed a med kit and ran toward the stairs.

SG: A

The sight that greeted him from the foot of the stairway made him stop and shake his head in disbelief. Just like Ford had said, Kavanagh was under the piece of equipment with only his legs visible. It almost looked like a bad gag set up and if things weren't so dire upstairs, the Scot might have laughed.

It was clear from the state of disarray that surrounded the gate that the two men had been working for an extended amount of time. The decontamination unit was absent and pieces of machinery littered the floor, one looking very much like the lid piece to the DHD. A malp carrying a large crate of tools and diagnostic equipment sat at the base of the steps with the pair of feet jutting out from underneath with Ford at it's side, a look of utter disgust on his face.

"What the bloody hell is he doing underneath that thing?"

Ford flinched at the Scot's tone. "He, uh, Dr. Zelenka that is, said to attach the power unit to the main computer system so that we could increase the level…" stopping when Carson held up a hand and made the rolling motion to get to what caused the current situation. "The malp became engaged and moved, and…" he pointed to the twitching feet, rolling his eyes.

Dropping his med kit to the floor, Beckett hunkered down to look under the machine when a burst of loud static surprised him, bringing his head up with a jerk. A painful thump against the crate made him momentarily see stars.

"Lieutenant, is Dr.Beckett at your position yet?" Weir's voice filled the large room.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Carson, what is Dr. Kavanagh's condition?" She didn't get the chance to say anymore before the sound of Zelenka swearing loudly could be heard in the background of the transmission. "Radek, enough. This isn't helping the situation."

"I just got here, Elizabeth. Give me a moment."

More static erupted and then the Czech's voice came back over, "Lieutenant, from what you've told me, you should be able to free 'Doctor' Kavanagh by reversing malp slowly while Dr. Beckett pulls fool out by his feet."

Carson remained quiet, his gaze traveling back up the staircase and then to the protruding feet. Swallowing back the anger he felt rising like a bubbling cauldron in his chest, he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly while counting to ten. "Dr. Kavanagh, are you in any pain?"

The scientists reply was muffled and unintelligible.

Leaning back down once more, he studied the undercarriage and tightly wedged body, cursing under his breath about medieval torture devices and never leaving the base again. He tapped the scientists shin, "Doctor, I didn't hear you. Are you in any pain?"

This time he clearly made out the arrogant man's voice. "I'm stuck," Kavanagh hissed.

"I know that," Carson gritted, his small amount of patience long gone, "and we're working to get you out. Are. You. Hurt?"

"My arm's caught and I can't feel it."

Carson's head dipped wearily to his chest. What could possibly happen next?"

Ford tapped the Scot hesitantly on the shoulder, stepping back quickly when the tightly clenched blue eyes looked up to glare at him. "I'm ready to move it, sir." At Beckett's nod, he began to back the malp off Kavanagh until the scientist gave out a hideous, pain-filled yell.

"Stop!" he cried out, pumping his legs trying to push himself back under the machine again.

Beckett's eyes shot up to Ford's and the Lieutenant quickly disengaged. With it no longer moving, the physician tried to push Kavanagh's legs aside and possibly see what had happened.

"What's wrong, lad?"

The legs shifted uncomfortably as the scientist attempted to free himself. He mumbled something that both Ford and Beckett missed.

"Say again," Ford prompted.

Another mumble.

"Doctor…" Carson threatened.

It was Connor suddenly standing up from the other side of the Malp, shaking her head, which caught both men by surprise. "Master Tenbrook, ma'am, when did you get here?"

She stared at both men, her color an annoyed shade of red, "His hair is caught."

Ford and Beckett glanced at each other and then back to the legs, a slow smile spreading across their faces. Ford's voice cracked, "His hair, ma'am?"

She nodded, reaching into the tool crate in search of something sharp. Locating what she was looking for, she disappeared.

"Uh, Doc?" Ford began.

Carson merely held up his hand and waited. He had a feeling the Krahn scientist was about to do something that he'd wanted to do for a long time. It was a shame the others weren't here to see this. Hearing a brief yelp from Kavanagh, he allowed himself a small devious smile, raising a sly brow to Ford.

A moment later, Connor stood back up. "Try it again, Lieutenant."

Gripping the controls, the young officer again began to back the Malp off Kavanagh, this time revealing the pale scientist lying on the floor. His eyes were wide behind his wire rimmed glasses while gripping his right wrist tightly to his chest.

But it was his head that made Carson close his eyes, begging the heavens for a camera to magically appear. Back in control, he peered at the scientist and shook his head in mock sympathy. "Laddie, you're gonna need to see a barber when we get back." The left side of the scientist's head was free of the straggly blonde hair while the right side remained.

Pulling the scientist to his feet, the physician manipulated the sore wrist, finding it free of any injury. Grateful not to have another major incident, he opened his kit, removing two items and setting them on a closed crate. "It appears to have only been in a tight pinch. I can wrap it for you, give you some Tylenol for the discomfort, but that should pass soon."

Kavanagh remained strangely quiet, studying the Scot closely before he nodded. When Carson completed his task and turned to go back up the stairs, the scientist stopped him. Taking a deep breath, he held up a pair of metal snips and ground his teeth. "Could you please…?" stopping and leaving the rest of his question unspoken.

This time it was Ford staring at the floor, coughing back his laughter because of the priceless look of disbelief on Beckett's face. The doctor appeared momentarily horrified at having to touch Kavanagh's hair. Where were McKay and Sheppard when you really needed them?

Without saying a word, Carson reached out and snipped off the long remaining strands. Handing them and the snips back to their owner, he made a beeline for the stairwell, racing to the infirmary before he choked to death on his restrained laughter.

Zelenka's forgotten voice snapped back across the radio. "Well, it is about time. Now that trauma of hair is over, we get work done before wormhole closes."

A/N Back for more… As you can tell, we needed a break from the drama to pick on the evil one for a moment. Bwahaha! One chapter to go… I think.