Touched By An Ancient
By Ann3
Writer's Note: Okay, well, we've arrived at our first stop on 'Operation Rodney'. And since no trip to Scotland would be complete for Carson without a visit home, that first stop just has to be to see his mum.
As always, I hope you enjoy...!
Chapter Thirty Three
Until ten seconds ago, Rodney McKay had been sure there was no bigger mother hen on the planet – no, he dazedly corrected himself, no bigger mother hen in two galaxies, than Dr Carson Beckett.
Still wrapped in a rib-crushing hug, that long held theory was coming in for a somewhat groggy re-think. For the ultimate experience in good old fashioned mother-henning, you needed… well, a mother. And Gracie Beckett couldn't just write a book on that subject, she could write an entire library.
For all her slightness, she could pack a mean hug too, one that was rapidly threatening to crush his ribs. If not for some timely, highly amused intervention, he'd have been in real danger of being suffocated.
"Och, easy up, mum…! I havenae brought Rodney all this way for ye to break his ribs…!"
"Dinna be so cheeky, ye wee scamp…" his mother scolded him through still helpless laughter – another equally loving, motherly threat silencing that scamp's mischievous chuckles with instant, cringe-causing speed. "Och, Rodney, the tales I could tell ye, about the scrapes this wee boy o' mine got into…"
"Really…?"
Not surprisingly, Rodney was now all eager-eared attention, his eyes gleaming in gleeful mischief – right until Carson leant close to softly mutter a failsafe way to stop that mischief in its tracks.
"Needles, Rodney… needles…"
Perhaps thankfully, all this had been lost on Gracie as she continued to fuss motheringly around them.
"Here, Rodney, let me take your coat… Carson, why don't ye take Rodney ben the back room…? I'll get ye both some tea and a wee bite tae eat, you both must be fit tae eat a Sheltie…"
Silently wishing he'd boned up on colloquial Scottish before they'd left Denver, Rodney frowned.
"Ben…? Who's… um… who's Ben…?" he asked at last, glancing worriedly at the floor around them. Relations with his best friend's mother would hardly be helped if he were to inadvertently kick her cat.
If that best friend doesn't stop laughing right now, I'll be kicking him instead…
Still laughing as he steered his friend along the hallway, Carson then nodded towards one of its adjoining rooms.
"I'm going to have to teach you some proper Scottish, Rodney…" he chuckled, opening its door. "Ben isn't a person, or thing, it's a Scottish word for into, or through to… like into our room here…"
Not wanting to give his still grinning friend any more teasing ammunition than he had already, Rodney just nodded. Instead he settled into every first time guest's familiar ritual, curiously taking in his surroundings – or rather, he guiltily corrected himself, the home that had been so selflessly offered to him to share in.
He'd sensed its warmth, the love and happiness within it, long before he'd been welcomed inside – the twinge of envy he'd felt passing tactfully unnoticed as Carson nudged him towards the couch.
"Sit yourself down, Rodney, or you'll be getting me in all sorts o' trouble wi' mum…"
If not for his throbbingly aching feet, Rodney would have been sorely tempted to remain standing – if only to see what further, entertaining mother to son exchanges such 'trouble' involved. Instead, sinking onto a couch that threatened to swallow him, he settled gratefully into its depths – allowing the hypnotic flicker of a blissfully crackling fire to further warm him, both inside and out.
It was another traditional family keepsake, though, which now drew, and held, his attention.
A single photograph, set in a typically modest frame, took pride of place on the wall above its grate. Set against a backdrop of stunning beauty, a proud father swung his giggling child high over his head.
He'd changed so much, of course, from the squealing little boy captured so charmingly here, but – well, the mop of dark hair, the wide and dimpled smile, were undoubtedly those of a much smaller Carson Beckett.
The grown up version was smiling too, in wistful pride, as he pre-empted the inevitable question.
"Aye, that's me and my da'… mum took it on my fifth birthday, when we were up in Glencoe…"
Not at all surprised by the distracted nod he received in response, Carson allowed his smile to widen. He'd not said anything, but the expression on Rodney's face alone had told him all he needed to know. If he'd not had a good reason to plan a trip to Glencoe before… well, he certainly had good reason to plan one now.