Part 11

Nights in Atlantis, though quieter, did not hold the same type of easy peace that one felt back on earth. There always seemed to be a subtle underlying tension present.

"Radek," Sheppard called when he saw McKay's second in command and the Canadian who had replaced Grodin, heading toward the gate room, "wait up a second."

Zelenka dutifully stopped and waited, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. Sheppard figured someone as smart as the Czech would have figured out how to fix a set of glasses and keep them sitting properly on his face.

Sheppard jogged up to them. He saw the apprehension in the new man, "Hey, You ahh, you did a good job the other day---A real good job." The colonel offered a half smile that slowly blossomed as look of relief crossed the new man's face. "You want to give Radek and me a second?" Grodin's replacement nodded, looking quietly pleased, and continued toward the gate room.

"Yes, Major," Zelenka asked patiently. He stared at Sheppard who stared at the new man disappearing into the gate room. Someone really needs to befriend that guy.

"Colonel," McKay corrected automatically, snapping his attention back to Zelenka. "What's been eating at Dr. Beckett?"

Zelenka stared at Sheppard and was about to redirect the question but was interrupted.

"Don't give me any bullshit about not knowing--you know something, so just spill it," Sheppard stated in a tone that left no mistake as to the seriousness of the question.

"Last month there were large explosions in Thurso, many died." Zelenka stated in a quiet voice.

Sheppard stared the Czech scientist, "Thurso? Beckett mumbled that name a few times, thought he was thirsty."

Zelenka chuckled, "Strange name indeed. It is his town, his mother and relatives live there. He has not heard from them. This is second mail call and no mail from home. Mrs. Beckett writes her son every mail call. I fear they may have been some of those that fell to the explosions."

"Shit," Sheppard whispered leaning a shoulder against the wall, "why didn't he say something?"

"What is there to say?" Radek asked.

"Anything!" Sheppard snapped back. "He could've said something."

"There is nothing anyone can do but wait," Zelenka pointed out. "He waits. I fear however, it has been two mail deliveries and no news; that is not good."

"No," Sheppard agreed, "Hey, how'd you know?" Colonel asked not sure if he wanted to know that Beckett confided in some and not others and that somehow he and Rodney made the long list of non confidants.

"My brother, he fishes North Sea, knows of Thurso," Zelenka said by way of explanation.

Sheppard nodded distractedly, "Thanks, Radek."

"How is Rodney?"

"He's good," Sheppard paused, "when he's sleeping, when he's awake, he's dying."

Zelenka laughed, "That is good; he is mending."

The physicist nodded his farewell and left.

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Sheppard headed toward Beckett's lab with a small open cardboard box that had seen better days. The Daedalus had headed out only an hour ago. Corporal Davis of the Daedalus had caught up with Sheppard just before the corporal had to ship out and handed him the small opened box. It held a stack of letters bound together by a rubber band. One letter sat apart and was dirty and creased and had all the appearance of being mishandled.

Corporal Davis had stammered and stuttered out an explanation. He had found one letter folded into one of the creases of the canvas bags they used to haul mail last delivery. It was dated over a month ago. The corporal went on to explain he hadn't noticed the letter until the Daedalus had made its run back to Earth last time and when he was filling it with this delivery of letters for this trip he had found it.

It was addressed to Dr. Carson Beckett. It was a woman's handwriting, cursive and neat. It belonged to someone who took great care in their penmanship. Like a mother. Sheppard felt his anger rising. Corporal Davis went on to explain that he had pulled the letter aside and all the other letters addressed to Dr. Beckett, remarking that it seemed half of Scotland was writing to the good doctor. Sheppard simply pointed out, Beckett had a 'bucketful of uncles'. Davis nodded and explained how he had planned on hand delivering them to the Doctor with a personal apology but Dr. Beckett had left the cafeteria before Davis could reach him.

The Daedalus was leaving, Colonel Caldwell was punctual if nothing else. The corporal implored Colonel Sheppard to deliver the letters with his sincerest apologies.

Sheppard took the small box full of letters covered with different penmanships and colored envelopes. He gave Davis a small smile and a reassuring "no problem" and headed toward the geneticist's lab.

Sheppard kept the old creased envelope separate. It didn't seem to contain anything fancy like a card or pictures, just simple sheets of paper. Sometimes it seemed it was the simplicity in which a mother reached out that was often more touching than the actual words. The colonel wondered about his own mother and quickly dismissed the thought.

Sheppard paused at the door and took a breath before raising his hand to activate its opening.

He entered the lab and stood in the doorway. The lab was empty except for Beckett. Carson normally gave his people the afternoon and evening off when mail delivery came. He had said it was safer that way for everyone and their work.

Sheppard surveyed the empty room, noting the cluttered bench tops. He furrowed his brow when he noticed one crutch leaning against a hood across the room and the second one on the opposite side of the room propped up in a corner. The colonel tilted his head to the side just a bit but didn't bother trying to figure it out.

He watched the CMO as he peered into his microscope and then scribbled notes into a lined spiral ring notebook without looking. Beckett at one point pulled his eyes away from the scope and closed them, pinching the bridge of his nose and clenching his teeth as if trying to garner control of something that nearly slipped away.

"Carson," Sheppard called, feeling he was intruding, but knowing it was necessary. He watched slightly amused as Beckett's head snapped up in surprise. The internal fight that had been creasing his bruised features was swept away with a quick dimpled smile.

Sheppard wasn't sure if he was hurt or angry that Carson took such efforts to hide his misery from him.

"Ahh, Colonel, to what do I owe the pleasure of the visit?---Rodney still insulting my staff when he is awake?" Carson stayed away from the infirmary fearing that he would be corralled into lying down and resting. He didn't want to rest; he didn't want to stop working. If he did, his thoughts wandered back to Scotland and his family. The images of home would spark the persistent nausea to an almost unbearable level. If he closed his eyes, occasional disjointed images of being in a dark duct dragging Rodney would flash to the forefront and leave him with his heart racing, sweat on his brow and headache pounding behind his eyes.

He hurt too much to lie down and feared what he'd see if he shut his eyes for any amount of time. Sleep didn't seem worth the pain at the moment.

"Yup, but that's not why I'm here," Sheppard answered and walked across the cluttered lab. He scrutinized the doctor, appreciating the exhaustion that draped the other man like a second skin. Sheppard couldn't help him piece his memories together of the time in the abandoned part of the city but perhaps he could help relieve Beckett of his other worries. He figured it was just a matter of time before Beckett's body just shut down and he slept. When that happened, Sheppard would be sure to have Teyla or Ronan or Zelenka or himself be there. Until then, he'd stand back and let Beckett handle things his own way.

"Corporal Davis wanted me to deliver these to you, said he wanted to do it personally and apologize but couldn't find you after mail call."

"Here you go," Sheppard slid the box onto the lab counter top and then handed the folded, crinkled plain white envelope out to the doctor.

Sheppard felt a surge of discomfort at seeing Beckett go pale and eyes suddenly water. He gave the doctor credit for holding it together and sparing them both an uncomfortable awkward moment.

The colonel saved the man from having to speak, saved him the embarrassment should his voice break. "Davis was real sorry about it."

Beckett reached out a hesitant hand, his finger tips scabbed and cracked from being dragged off the apron and into the water. "Ahh, mum," he whispered, checking the date. "You're alright," he mumbled, holding the envelope in his shaking hand.

"Looks like all of Thurso and then some dropped you a line," John nudged the box which tore Beckett's attention from the battered envelope to the box full of different size and shaped letters and cards.

Beckett reached a hesitant hand into the box and fingered the letters, not really concentrating on one.

The colonel recognized that Beckett's whole world became focused on the box and its content and the simple letter from his mother. There was no need for him to stay and truly become an intruder.

Sheppard headed back to the door. It slid open and, as he stepped through, he stopped and turned. "You should of said something, Carson," Sheppard pointed out, "we're friends, you should have told us."

Beckett looked up from his mother's missive and stared at the colonel with blood shot eyes that swam in their own unshed moisture. "There was nothing to tell."

Sheppard nodded without truly agreeing and left Beckett in the privacy of his lab.