I have taken a deliberate liberty with a military detail, see the note at the end of the chapter.
Thanks to the talented saclateri.
Glossary:
haud
yer wheesht – be quiet
yous
– Scottish plural of you, of course
cannae
- cannot
Chapter Three: Cool
Major Sheppard, Lieutenant Ford and Teyla Emmagan stood in the 'gateroom, waiting for Carson to be ready. The Scottish doctor looked hot and flustered, and they hadn't even stepped foot on M3R-106. Simpson had reported the climate as 'pleasantly warm and wet' and McKay had translated that as 'insufferably humid'.
Dr Elizabeth Weir looked down over the deck from the control room. "Major Sheppard? Is there a problem?"
Sheppard looked up. "No. No problem Elizabeth." He pointed at Dr Beckett. "Ford, Teyla and myself are raring to go. We're just letting the Doc here gather his thoughts."
Carson's look shot daggers at Sheppard. "I'm just making sure I've got everything, son. No point trailing all the way to the settlement and finding I've forgotten the needles. So haud yer wheesht, laddie, or it'll be you feeling a needle."
Elizabeth chuckled. "I see. Well, don't keep the Merran's waiting too long. From what Sergeant Stackhouse said, I don't think they have time to waste."
Carson looked up, hoisting the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "Aye, all right, Dr Weir, I'm ready now. I'm just saying, I don't want to forget anything. OK, Major, let's get this over with."
Elizabeth nodded, raised a hand to Sheppard, and the four of them stepped through the event horizon. Carson was last to slip through, head down, his bag banging against his hip.
The leader of Atlantis turned to the man sitting at the control console. "Have you ever known Carson to forget anything, Peter?"
"Never. I believe Dr Beckett was merely staving off the inevitable." The Brit grinned.
She folded her arms. "Hmm. I thought so."
0o0o0
Carson looked up at Sheppard, who had entered the dwelling hut. "Ah, Major. There you are."
"What's the verdict, then, Doc?" he leaned against the doorframe, and wiped his hand over his forehead.
"I'm going to need to go back to Atlantis. I completed the vaccinations, but there are two villagers who need treatment for the virus. We have to come back as soon as we can."
Sheppard sighed. "All right. Are we ready to head back now?"
"Aye. Teyla is just explaining all that to the Merran elders. We can leave as soon as she's done."
Sheppard nodded, and looked out into the 'street', although in all truth the village was barely more than a cluster of primitive shelters in a muddy clearing.
"Major…" Carson spoke quietly, apologetically.
"Yes, Doc?" The Major turned round, giving the Scot his attention.
"I just wanted to… apologise. You know I don't like 'gate travel, but it was no excuse. You, Stackhouse… you set up this trip because you knew these people needed me, and all I've done is moan and gripe. I'm sorry, lad. You… they… deserve better."
Sheppard waved a hand airily. "Aw, it's OK, Doc. We all know you're a bit nervous about house calls. But don't worry… we'll make a soldier out of you yet."
"But I don't…" Carson's retort was cut off by Teyla entering the hut.
"Major Sheppard, Dr Beckett. The elders send their thanks, and they look forward to our return for the sake of the two men who are ill."
Carson hurriedly packed the last of his gear into the medical bag, and muttered. "Good, good, let's get going then. No time to waste."
An hour later the four-strong team had almost reached the 'gate. Carson stopped for a moment, his hands on his hips, as he waited for the others to catch up. Sheppard took another deliberate stride across a marshy tussock, giving Lieutenant Ford an encouraging clap on the back.
"Not far now, Ford. Keep those legs moving."
Ford balanced himself as best he could atop a tussock and bent down with his hands on his knees, to take a breather. He looked up at his commanding officer. "This landscape is dire, sir. It was bad enough one way, but this… At least we know there's no way a puddlejumper could land."
Teyla nodded, as she carefully picked her way across the ridges. "It would not be so hard if it were not so humid. I find it fascinating that Dr Beckett does not appear troubled by this terrain."
The two military men looked ahead at Carson. The Scot had his arms crossed, and was looking down at them all, from where he stood. He looked commanding, balanced on the island of grassy land, watching them struggle along.
Sheppard and Ford exchanged glances.
"Yeah, Doc. What's your secret?" Ford asked.
Carson ran a hand through his damp hair. "It's bloody hot here, I'm feeling it all right, but this tussocky grass is just like home. Boggy, marshy, lumps. You cannae beat it for a good walk." He grinned at them. "Now come on, let's get a move on. I need to get back and prepare for the return journey." He turned quickly and leapt forward, making strides 'gatewards. He ignored the groans he heard behind him.
0o0o0
"Incoming wormhole." Peter Grodin kept his eyes on the laptop screen as Elizabeth came up behind him.
"IDC?" She queried.
"Yes, it's Major Sheppard."
"Let them in."
The wormhole materialised with a familiar rush, and she watched Dr Beckett lead the team through the 'gate. 'Last out, first back' she thought with amusement, but then frowned as she studied the state of the rest of the team. Lieutenant Ford looked positively drained, and even Teyla had a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. Concerned, she hurried down the steps to meet the Major.
"John! What happened? Is everything all right?" She tried to sound calm.
Sheppard gave her a weak smile as he cradled his P90 loosely in his arms.
"Sure. We're just a bit… exhausted, frankly. The terrain was hard going. But the Doc got all the villagers vaccinated. He wants to get back ASAP and treat a couple of sick folks though. We're going to freshen up a bit and go straight back."
She raised an eyebrow. Behind the Major, she'd seen a purposeful Dr Beckett unzip his jacket and head off to the infirmary, medical bag banging his hip as he went.
"Carson doesn't seem to be exhausted." Her statement conveyed a question.
Sheppard huffed. "The Doc was like a mountain goat, springing over the swamp. I dunno, first we can't drag him there, then he can't wait to go back." He shrugged, and smiled. "I'm going to grab a shower."
She stood aside to let the other three leave the 'gateroom. Carson had been surprising her from day one in Antarctica, and she knew he had plenty more where that had come from. She just didn't know how right he was soon to prove her.
0o0o0
"I knew this would happen." Sheppard muttered. He tapped his radio. "Dr Beckett, please respond." He turned to Ford, who just shrugged. "He was the one in such a rush, where is he?"
"Go ahead, Major Sheppard." The airy brogue of the Scottish doctor came across the radio.
"Beckett! Where are you? We're all waiting."
"I'm literally approaching the 'gateroom now. Just had to repack my gear and get ready."
Sheppard let out a sigh and nodded to Grodin, who was waiting for the signal to start dialling.
A hush fell over the Marines on duty in the 'gateroom when Carson Beckett stepped through the sliding doors. Sheppard, Teyla and Ford turned and stared.
Carson strode into the 'gateroom wearing a dark green and blue kilt, which swung jauntily as he headed up the steps. The plaid was criss-crossed with thin lines of red and white, giving it a bold and striking appearance. His dark socks and stout boots were now totally visible, as his hairy lower legs were bare for all to see. His knees made the occasional appearance as he walked. A glaringly white sleeveless cotton vest with a rounded neck was all he wore on his upper torso. The straps of a large drab olive green Bergen rucksack dug into his shoulders.
"What are all of yous staring at?" Carson asked, looking around at all the open mouths and incredulous expressions.
Sheppard managed to hold back a smile as he said, "You, Doc. Look what you're wearing. Where did you get that… skirt?"
"Ye cheeky wee bugger. This is my kilt." Carson looked up towards the control room and shouted, "I told you it would come in useful, Peter!"
Grodin hurried over to the balcony and stared down for a moment. "Gordon Bennett." he murmured, and scurried back to his console.
Ford was walking in a slow circle around the doctor, a look of concentration on his face.
Carson followed Ford's path with his eyes. "Wearing a kilt is extremely comfortable in difficult terrain, lad. Keeps a breeze flowing…" his voice trailed as he watched the Lieutenant stalk him, "…prevents chafing…"
"Hey, Doc. Is that the kind of Bergen I think it is?" Ford seemed to be half-listening to Carson, but had noticed something about the rucksack that made his eyes light up with excitement.
Sheppard interjected, "Why? What kind is it?"
Ford answered for the Scot, knowing he was right. "Royal Marines Commando kit. From the 1990's I reckon. Standard issue, if you could call it that. Nothing standard about those guys. Best damn troops in the world." Ford was grinning like a kid in a candy store.
Carson rolled his eyes, his hands on his hips. "Aye, all right, just tell everyone. Sheesh. Cannae keep a secret round here."
Sheppard raised his eyebrows. "Is that so? Well, well. Looks like you're revealing more than just your legs, Doc."
"Oh, for heaven's sake! I'm just trying to be comfortable on that bloody planet. My kilt and my Bergen are just the ticket, OK? Now leave me be." He folded his bare arms across his chest.
Elizabeth had come out of her office when Peter called her through. She looked down into the 'gateroom at the suggestion of her right hand man. Seeing Carson in his revealing garb, with no medical bag in sight, just an enormous military-looking rucksack, was a sight indeed.
She looked over her shoulder to Peter, and spoke quietly. "He looks like an advert for breakfast oats."
Peter grinned wickedly, and opened the wormhole to M3R-106.
Elizabeth watched the doctor stride through the event horizon, the tight pleats at the back of his kilt swinging from side to side, and his huge arms as plain as day.
0o0o0
Once again, it was Carson who was in the best shape when the long walk was over. They'd reached the village in good time, but Carson was the only one who looked fresh. The doctor set to work tending the two sick men, while the others accepted food and drink gratefully.
Carson whistled a rousing tune as he set up the infusions and attached small monitors to the two patients. Sheppard watched from the corner, amazed at the transformation of the medic. The Scot was no longer a timid academic squinting into the glare of the alien galaxy. He was some kilted warrior grinning into the face of doom. Sheppard gave up trying to figure it out, and tried to catch a nap before it was his turn to patrol.
It was close to nightfall when Carson declared himself finished, and ready to head back to Atlantis. The sick villagers were on the mend, and the elders had specific instructions on their future care. By the time the team got back to the 'gate, even Carson was feeling the strain. In the last light of dusk, they left the planet and travelled the wormhole back to their city.
0o0o0
Elizabeth Weir and Rodney McKay were waiting at the foot of the stairs as the wormhole shut down. Peter Grodin had contacted the Chief of Science to pass on the juicy details about Carson, including the mystery military history. He didn't think McKay would appreciate missing the sight of Carson in a kilt, and the speed with which McKay had reached the 'gateroom had shown him he was right.
Funny thing was, McKay was rendered speechless by the sight of the Scottish wonder, and was failing to deliver any of his intended barbs.
Elizabeth clasped her hands behind her back, and gave a tight smile as Carson sauntered over. She raised one eyebrow teasingly.
"Good day, Carson?"
"Indeed it has been, Dr Weir." Carson replied cheerily, enjoying a glance or two at the dumbstruck Canadian. "Mission accomplished."
She cocked her head. "You look quite at home in that get-up. Suits you."
He gave her a half grin, almost smug. "Aye. Feels right good." He tucked his thumbs into the waist webbing of his Bergen, and patted the belt proudly.
McKay's mouth finally dropped right open. He managed to sputter, "Are you really Commando?"
Carson blushed a little. "Not in front of a lady, Rodney," he mumbled, gesturing with a nod to Elizabeth.
McKay's brow furrowed in confusion. Sheppard and Ford came up behind Carson, grinning like idiots at the look on McKay's face.
"Come on, McKay." Sheppard encouraged. "We're not just talking about his military background here, are we?" The Major pointed exaggeratedly to Carson's kilt.
McKay's eyes were impossibly wide as it dawned on him, and he shot a glance at Elizabeth who was chuckling. He stuttered, "I didn't mean… I don't want to know… I wasn't…"
Carson buried his face in one hand as he shook his head. "Oh, Lord. I'll never live this down."
McKay buried his face in two hands. "Neither will I."
Elizabeth left the mortified friends and headed for the stairs, saying over her shoulder, "It's OK, Carson, the look on your face said it all."
Sheppard, Ford and Teyla headed to clean up, arguing over the various methods of avoiding chafing on long walks.
A/N: It is a sad truth that Royal Marines (part of UK military, Naval control) are not actually issued with a Bergen, they have to buy their own as far as I know, and I'm not kidding.
In case anyone is not aware, 'commando' is to wear no underwear. Traditionally, no underwear is worn with a kilt ;)
