Disclaimer: I do not own these characters; this is written for fun, I make no money etc.

Spoilers: The Eye, this is set a day after.

A/N: Thanks to emergencyfan for the inspiration about ancestry. Flower of Scotland is about the battle of Bannockburn, 1314, the only date in history I ever memorised…

Summary: Rodney takes Carson for a walk. It makes their heads hurt. Just a piece of nonsense. No slash!

The nurse smoothed down the edges of Rodney's dressing. She looked up into his eyes, raised one eyebrow and said sternly, "Try not to fiddle with it. Come back tomorrow and we'll check it over. Just come and see me if you need more analgesia, OK?"

Rodney just nodded and grunted, rolling his sleeve down over his forearm. He jumped down off the bed, and wandered over to where Carson was lying. The physician was propped up; his lower face a wonderful tapestry of purple and yellow.

"How's the head?" McKay ventured.

"Och, it's fine. But they won't let me out for another twenty-four hours - concussion, it's the rules."

"Yeah, your rules," Rodney smiled.

Carson spluttered in exasperation, "It's doing my head in! I can't take much more. They keep fussing. I'd love to get out, just for an hour."

"Come on then, let's walk across to the east balcony. I'll tell them I'll keep a good eye on you. Can't do any harm, can it?" Rodney's face sported a wicked grin.

With a little persuasion, the staff allowed McKay to propel Carson out the door of the infirmary.

"Cheers, pal. I owe you one." Carson looked relieved to be on his way to a little fresh air, even if he was going to be a bit wobbly getting there.

Rodney and Carson made their quiet way along the halls, one focussing on getting his feet in the right order, the other wondering what on earth they were going to talk about.

Then a thought crossed Rodney's mind. "What's that tune you always whistle when you see Grodin?"

"What tune?"

"You know, the one that goes, mmm mmm mmm mmmm mmm" he hummed.

"Oh that! It's Flower of Scotland. It's just a wee joke," Carson chuckled.

"Isn't that the Scottish national anthem?"

"Heavens, no, Rodney," Beckett gasped, "It's really about a battle between the Scots and the English, and we won! I'm just poking a wee bit of fun at Peter!"

"That doesn't sound very friendly…" Rodney seemed a bit perturbed.

"Don't worry about it. It's only because you all say that Peter is English, but we're really both British."

"But you've got a Scottish flag on your jacket…"

"Aye, well, I put down Scottish on the uniform requisition, Peter put British. It's quite funny really; they obviously just gave us what we asked for…Besides, Peter knows as well as I do that seven hundred years ago my ancestors were probably Welsh sheep farmers, and his were, well, nowhere near England, anyway." Carson was finding it hard not to laugh.

They stepped through onto the balcony and stood side by side looking out over the ocean. They leaned out over the rails, breathing in deeply.

Carson turned his head towards his friend. "Do you know Rodney, you are likely more Scottish than any of us!"

McKay looked really puzzled now, "What?"

"Come on, Rodney. McKay! I knew an orthopaedic surgeon from Lewis once, he was a McKay…I'll wager your ancestors were from the Outer Hebrides"

"The outer what? Which galaxy is that in?"

"They're islands off Scotland, Rodney! I'd put good money on your family starting out there. Anyway, I'd have thought you knew all this; you New Worlders love all that don't you? Finding your roots, bagpipes, and all that?"

Rodney let out an indignant grunt, and gestured towards himself, "Do you really think I care about any of that? Why should I want to know where my forefathers came from?"

Carson sighed, "It's history, Rodney. It matters. Peter and I joke about it, but it's who we are, where we came from, it makes us… anyway, when you think about it, we're history now. We might never get back to earth. You might be somebody's ancestor one day. My descendents might make up a song about me, and my battles…" Carson stared off into space, smiling.

Rodney's face rippled with anxiety, "Wait a minute…ancestor. That would mean I'd have to, that I'd be…"

"Aye, Rodney. Never thought about having children?"

"Are you kidding? That is not a pretty thought."

The conversation seemed to strangely dry up at this point. They stood a little less comfortably for a while.

"Rodney?"

"Yes, Carson?"

"Could we go back to my infirmary now?"

"Sure."

"My head hurts."

"Yeah, so does mine…"