A/N: We're going gently here. Think of this as a roller coaster, where we're being hauled up the lift hill to the first summit. And the longer it takes to get to the top, the bigger the drop is going to be...

Again, thank you so much for the kind words. And Ellex and GA Unicorn fixed lots of the problems here, before they ever saw the light of day.

Oh, and as if not owning Atlantis wasn't bad enough, I don't own Monty Python either.

Chapter 3

Elizabeth explained the situation to John and Rodney. Lorne was now three hours overdue, and, despite attempts to contact them, there was still no word. It had been a routine ceremonial visit to the Crethins, a diminutive people who loved music and dance. Lorne had drawn the short straw, and he and his team had the honor of attending the harvest festival as representatives of the survivors of Atlantis.

John offered to take a Jumper to find the missing team as soon as the gate room was clear. Rodney nodded in all the right places, but it was clear something was on both their minds. They kept looking at the office door towards the gate room where Dr Beckett, Teyla and Ronon were preparing to gate to Reliquary.

"He asked you, and you agreed?" McKay said eventually when he could no longer hold it in. "Are you mad, Elizabeth? This is Carson we're talking about."

John nodded in agreement. "It's just that…" he started to say, and then shrugged. "I mean the man doesn't have the best luck off-world, does he? There was the whole Hoff incident, the Wraith retro-virus, being trapped in a Monty Python castle full of in-bred aristocrats and almost being swept up by that dart that got Cadman and McKay,"

Rodney's scowl deepened. "Thank you for bringing that up!"

John shrugged in pretended innocence. "I thought it was an important example."

"Well, thanks," Rodney crossed his arms.

"The point is: Carson just isn't the luckiest person on the expedition."

Elizabeth frowned at the two men. "I was hardly going to tell my chief medical officer that he couldn't go and help a village of sick people because of his 'bad luck'."

Rodney put his two hands on the table and leaned forward. "What part of this feels like a good idea to you? We send our chief medical officer to a distant planet to research a plague! Do you have any idea how many things could go wrong? "

He turned on his heel and stormed out angrily.

Sheppard shrugged. "He's a little freaked out by the whole plague thing."

"I figured."

"And he's worried."

"Really?" Elizabeth said.

John nodded. "Worried as hell. He's just not very good at saying it. He'll calm down when Carson reports in that everything is fine."

"I'll be looking forward to it then." She found it difficult to imagine the base continuing to function with Rodney McKay barreling around it in this state.

The door opened again. Rodney's head poked around the edge. "Monty Python?"

John grinned and shrugged. "It just reminded me of that bit in Holy Grail when John Cleese fights everyone at the wedding party."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. I just didn't see you as a Monty Python kind of guy."

"Isn't everyone?" John gestured out of the door. "Lead on, Patsy."

"Must have left my coconuts in my other pants," was the final thing Elizabeth heard as the door slid shut behind them. She had no idea what they could be talking about, and clocked it up to one more unexplained facet in the Sheppard and McKay duet.

-

SGA

-

Carson's first impression of Reliquary was a group of faces that rushed out to greet them. Each one was covered in a faint sheen of grime. The universal characteristics were blue eyes and dirty blond hair. The women wore ripped skirts that were repaired neatly, with patches as faded as the original material.

The men sported grays and browns, and rough stubble or full grown beards. Their hair was almost as long as the women's.

Both men and women seemed fascinated with the hazmat suits, and reached out to touch them with tentative fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, Carson saw Ronon stiffen.

"It's alright, lad," he said. He raised his hands so that the curious locals could check the gloves. Teyla took a young man's hand in one of hers.

"It is unlike anything I have ever seen," a girl breathed. Tentatively, she reached up and brushed her fingertips across Ronon's elbow.

He growled in his throat and

the girl snatched her hand back as though it had been burned. He looked ready to maul… someone.

"Ronon!" Teyla snapped.

Carson bit back a smile, because he didn't want to provoke the Runner. He suspected that if Ronon didn't get to maul a villager, Carson would be next on the list for insisting on the suits in the first place.

His musings were interrupted by the loud clapping of hands. The crowd around them parted to allow an elderly woman through. She had grey hair to her shoulders, and a face lined with many years. Her eyes were bright and clear and there was a lightness to her step that pleased Carson. No sign of arthritis there.

She was dressed well, the wear to her clothes recently repaired. Her hair was neatly tied back from her face.

"Rina," Teyla said. She bowed her head forward in greeting.

"Teyla Emmagen," Rina said, responding in kind. "Your clothing is…" she paused to consider the three visitors. Carson felt her keen eye inspect him closely. "…most unusual," she finished.

"These are protective garments," Teyla answered. "This is Dr. Beckett. He is a healer."

Rina instantly focused on Carson. Her stare made him feel uncomfortable.

"Have you come to heal my people?" she asked.

He knew in these situations that honesty was his only route. "I would like to try, ma'am."

She nodded once. "And yet, you come wearing suits to hide yourselves from us."

He fell back to honesty again. "The suits are for protection. I don't know what has caused the sickness. I need to do some tests first, and once I have a better idea, we can probably do away with these things. But I won't risk my team."

Rina's frown shifted into a glorious smile that turned the wrinkles into something much more gracious. She looked nothing like Carson's grandmother; too short, with the wrong color eyes, but there was something in that smile and those bright eyes that made Carson think of summers spent in a kitchen watching the old lady baking.

"I am glad to hear it, Dr. Beckett." She copied Teyla's greeting, and Carson responded.

"And you have returned as well, Satedan." She did not greet Ronon in the same manner, but nodded formally at him.

Ronon nodded back. It was less a greeting of friends and more a recognition between warriors.

She turned back to Carson. "Welcome to Reliquary, Doctor. We are most grateful for your offer of assistance. We are unable to provide payment for your services, but we will endeavor to recompense you for your efforts."

Why, Carson wondered, did everyone think he needed to be paid for his services? He trained in the ruddy National Health Service for goodness sake. 'Free at point of delivery' was a mantra that had been instilled in him since his days as a junior. Sure, they took it out of your hide somewhere, but free at point of delivery was the most important thing.

"There's no need, ma'am."

"Dr. Beckett has agreed to see what can be done without payment," Teyla said.

Rina inclined her head in thanks, and Carson blushed.

"It's…" he started to say and then stopped. He tried again, "I'm a doctor," he said. "It's what I do."

"Your assistance is greatly appreciated." She ordered a pair of the young men down to the Stargate to collect Carson's equipment, then began walking back to the small group of houses. The gathered villagers stayed respectfully back. "Although," she said as she walked, "I'm not sure if anything can be done. You will wish to speak with Levin."

"Is he your healer?" Teyla asked.

Rina shook her head sadly. "Levin is my grandson. He was one of the first to become sick."

She led them into the village. The buildings reminded Carson of the old wattle and daub constructions he had been dragged around as a child at one of those Viking re-enactment camps. He could only smell the rubber tang of the hazmat suit at the moment, but his mind supplied the same thick smell of wood smoke and close human habitation. A goat crossed their path, followed by a hen and her chicks.

The crowd had dissipated so that only a few still followed.

Thick woolen curtains twitched as they passed, and Carson was struck with an image of how ridiculous they must look to the villagers. The suits were designed in luminous orange, for a reason he had never been able to ascertain. They were hot, bulky and not the most graceful equipment. He had never had to wear a space suit (and, god forbid, he would never have to), but he imagined the hazmat suit was a close second in maneuverability.

Added to the obvious ridiculous nature of their dress was the fact that they must strike an observer as a mismatched little group anyway. Teyla walked ahead and somehow managed to make walking in the damn suit look graceful. Well, Carson reconsidered, if not graceful, at least possible. Ronon to the rear looked like he had been force fed into a cardboard cut-out costume. He was about as graceful as a drunken pantomime horse. He lumbered.

Carson tried not to imagine how he looked, sandwiched in the middle.

He saw a hand pump with a couple of buckets, and noted the place. There was no food to be seen, but also no signs of raw sewage or effluent. The streets were dry. There were planters of what appeared to be herbs on a few windowsills and occasional flowering plants, but most of the greenery was wilted

"Rina," Teyla said, "where are your children?"

Carson hadn't noticed that no children had come to greet them, but now that Teyla mentioned it their absence was obvious. The few times Carson had been off-world there had been children under his feet from the moment of arrival to the moment of departure. They were unable to hide their curiosity about newcomers, and would hang around asking questions.

The old lady shrugged and did not turn as she answered. "People keep them indoors. And some are sick. We try to keep them from passing the illness to each other, but it is difficult to keep keen young ones safe."

Now when he saw a curtain twitch, he thought he saw small faces at the window, before large hands snatched the wool back into place.

"Are the children affected more than the adults?" Carson asked.

Rina shook her head. "No more so, I believe. The young are strong, and fight the illness well, but some succumb. Of course, they may be pining for their parents."

"You do not let them see their families?" Ronon asked, unexpectedly.

"You shall see," she said. "We are here."

They stopped forty paces from the building to which Rina had led them. It looked like a hall of some kind, and in different circumstances Carson could see it being used for meetings or dances. He could imagine music filtering through its windows, but now it had an air of solemnity. Smoke drifted lazily from a hole in the roof.

Teyla shrugged at Carson's questioning glance. She seemed unsure why they did not approach further.

"Only those who are ill, or who have been ill can enter," Rina said in answer to the unspoken question. She pointed to the small group who had followed them from the outskirts of the village. "They await news of what happens inside."

Carson looked at the small group of followers they had retained. They had a haunted look he recognized all too well. He had seen it in hospital wards and waiting rooms in two galaxies. There was a glassiness to the eyes, and a worry around the set of the mouth that was universal. These were relatives who waited and hoped for good news, although they knew that the hope may be in vain.

He straightened his shoulders, and led the way into the makeshift hospital.