By Its Cover

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I've gone slightly away from my 'first meeting' impressions theme for Ford's story, because his attitude towards Carson in The Storm and, especially, The Eye, has always bugged me. All that throwing his weight around, and yet no apology or fence building with Carson at the end…?

So this is an alternative ending for The Eye. Hopefully it will resolve a few forgotten issues.

Reference also made to Poisoning The Well and, very sketchily, to the SG1 episode Heroes.

Chapter Four – Storm Trouper

They'd survived. Just. Thanks to Rodney McKay's self-cited brilliance, they'd survived the impossible.

Relief now swept through them as powerfully as the massive wave which rolled and raged outside. Right until the jarring thud of a falling deadweight body hitting the floor rang out from behind them. Then fresh hell of a wholly different kind broke loose.

The first to recognise its cause, Elizabeth Weir rushed back to kneel at that fallen body's crumpled side – noting, in rising alarm, that her Chief Medical Officer was now in urgent need of a doctor himself.

His face unhealthily pale, blood now staining his temple too, from where he'd fallen, as well as his face, Carson Beckett lay totally out for the count – worryingly resistant to Elizabeth's gentle shakes on his shoulder, her anxious calls of his name.

"Carson…? Carson, can you hear me, it's Elizabeth… Carson, can you hear me…? Carson…!"

Kneeling beside her, John Sheppard then threw a furiously accusatory glare towards Sora – the friendliness of just moments before reversed, inevitably, by the consequences of her actions.

Teyla's stricken face, Sora's attempts to explain, weren't going to cut the ice with him at the moment. Instead he joined Elizabeth in trying, as best he could, to assess the severity of Carson's injuries.

"Carson…? Damn it, he's out cold…"

Silently wishing he'd taken more field medical training, he then glanced expectantly up at Ford.

"Lieutenant…? As of now, consider yourself promoted from field medic to stand-in CMO. Until the med teams get back, the doc's gonna need some help, and… well, you're it…"

Frowning at a scowl he had no time to question, John then turned his attentions to Rodney.

"Rodney…? How long before we can safely move him to the Infirmary…?"

Jerked out of his own anxious study of his injured friend, Rodney then recovered himself and shrugged

"Well, the electricity levels are already falling, so if we give it a few more minutes…"

"Okay, Rodney, you keep tabs on that… as soon as it's safe, I want to get Carson down there…" Realising there were several other casualties to consider, John then added a dryly rueful afterthought. "Just our luck… a roomful of casualties, and the only doctor on Atlantis is one of 'em…"

"I am well enough, Major… I have merely sustained some cuts and bruises…" Teyla replied softly – a silent nod from Sora taking the tally from a trickily awkward four to a rather more manageable two.

That still left McKay, of course, who was thankfully too engrossed in his task to make any comment.

So that left just the one, unnervingly silent figure who still lay propped against John Sheppard's knee.

He still wasn't moving, still wasn't responsive. And such unnatural, deathly pale stillness could only have one cause.

"He's got a concussion, for sure… a bad one too, by the looks of it…" John sighed, shaking his head. "We've gotta bring him round, and keep him awake once we do… keep him alert, keep him talking…"

Until now, Aiden Ford had watched this unfolding drama in stonily impassive, emotionless silence. After such a harrowing day, the young lieutenant's easy going humour had long since disappeared. The sarcastically flippant response to his CO's remark was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"That last part shouldn't be too hard… I've spent most of today telling him to shut up…"

In the stunned silence that followed, a tellingly quiet, deceptively mild voice finally broke it.

"Yeah, so I'd gathered…" John Sheppard said at last, glancing up at his second in command. He'd sensed his simmering fury from the moment they'd given Kolya's guards the timeliest of drops.

Yet its apparent target…? No, that was just too ridiculous, too illogical, to contemplate. Carson Beckett, bless his sweet natured soul, was the last person in the world to deserve such anger.

Something had clearly happened, though, between two of the most easy going people on Atlantis. Something that had left Aiden Ford and Carson Beckett at emotionally frayed loggerheads.

As Carson remained thankfully oblivious to its aftermath, now seemed a good time to find out what – the very quietness of John's voice making his next words less of a question and more of an order.

"Care to tell me about it, Lieutenant…?"

Realising he'd just talked himself into one hell of a deep hole, Ford then squared his shoulders

"Permission to speak freely, sir…?"

At his CO's assenting nod, Ford took a deep breath – and got straight to the hopefully laudable point.

"We should have got to you sooner, sir… if he'd flown us back from the mainland when I told him…"

"…the chances are that you'd all be dead, and we'd be down another Jumper…" John cut in softly – the steeliness in his next words effectively over-riding any protest that Ford might have been planning. "Not even the best pilots on the base, myself included, could have made it safely through that storm… and in case you'd forgotten, the doc here isn't a pilot, he's only taken the most basic flight training…"

Allowing that quiet reminder to sink in, John glanced briefly back to the silent figure beside him – making a point of meeting Ford's eyes again, keeping his next words gently, deliberately, casual.

"Far from damning him, Lieutenant, you should be thanking him that he got you back here safely… and thanking him even more that he had the common sense to stay put when he did…"

Apparently he'd been a little too casual, since Ford still couldn't stop a recklessly indignant protest.

"But you were in trouble, sir…! I – I was needed back here, to cover your six, and instead…"

"What are you, Ford, my mother…?" Sheppard snapped back, his own temper getting the better of him. As the young lieutenant's face inevitably fell, John then sighed, his next words noticeably softer and gentler. "Look, one professional mother hen on this base is quite enough, let alone you trying out as deputy…"

Waiting for just a trace of a smile to re-appear, John allowed himself to relax enough to do the same – using just the right amount of firmness in his voice to bring his rebellious kid brother back into line.

"The simple fact is, Ford, that Carson knew I could handle things until you could safely get back to me. He knew what had to be done, Lieutenant. That's something you just might want to learn from him…"

The message had seemingly got through this time, since Ford was already nodding his agreement – his quiet, humbled reply lifting much of the tension which had hung so oppressively over them.

"Yes, sir…"

McKay's voice a few moments later, equally quiet, brought some more, anxiously awaited good news.

"Okay, the halls are clear, Major, we can… um… we can get Carson out of here…"

Already nodding in grateful agreement, John then jerked his head towards Carson's sneakers.

"Okay, Ford, I've got this end, you take his feet… real easy with him now, let's get him downstairs…"

Not trusting himself to speak, Ford just nodded while taking a firm grip around Carson's ankles – silently grateful that his CO couldn't see his face as they carried Carson down to the Infirmary.

Then again, John Sheppard didn't need to see the young lieutenant's face to sense its expression. The kid was still clearly upset and unsettled, still smarting over that regrettably public reprimand. And, with any luck, John quietly hoped, he'd be mulling that reprimand over very carefully.

Sora had clearly been doing a little soul-searching too, facing the consequences of her actions – her genuine contrition earning her a collective round of surprised, encouragingly appreciative stares.

"I – I did not mean to injure him so severely…" she said at last, tentatively re-meeting John's eyes. "I simply wanted to prevent him from stopping my vengeance against Teyla…"

Still warily angry, though maybe not quite so much as before, John Sheppard merely nodded in reply. If truth be told, his main concern still rested with Carson's still unnervingly silent, deadweight form.

In spite of this less than gentle movement of him, he'd not flinched, not even groaned, in protest. Even with his limited medical knowledge, John knew such unprotesting silence was not a good sign. So Rodney McKay's typically self-centred whining really wasn't going to be appreciated.

"But – But he's gonna be okay, right…? He'll be okay…? I – I mean, who's gonna fix my arm…?"

"Even if he were to come round right now, McKay, I doubt he'd feel up to facing you as a patient…!"

Realizing he'd spoken more sharply than intended, John's temper fell as rapidly as it had risen – and vanished completely when he saw the genuine pain on Rodney's face, the deep red stain on his sleeve.

"Look, Rodney, I'm sorry, but… well, I kinda think the doc's really in some trouble here, and…"

"Yeah, I'm – I'm getting that…" Rodney replied softly, his eyes guiltily sliding back to his friend – the hand he now protectively rested on Carson's shoulder speaking volumes for just how worried he really was.

"I believe there is a medical device of the Ancestors which Dr Beckett uses…" Teyla chipped in – not even waiting for John's nod as they entered the main Infirmary to hurry into Carson's office.

"Okay, Ford, still real easy with him… let's get him up on this bunk here…" John continued – keeping Carson upright to remove his jacket before easing him carefully against the bed's back-rest.

Rewarded by a soft groan, a fretful wriggle of protest, John allowed himself a trace of a smile.

"Attaboy, doc… come on, Carson, you gotta wake up for us now, you hear me…?" he urged gently – as startled as everyone else when Carson wriggled more fretfully, then started to thrash against John's arms, struggling to roll onto his side.

Realising why, just in time, John then backed away, motioning for the others to do the same – fighting to keep control over his own churning stomach as Carson's messily emptied onto the floor

Pointedly ignoring Rodney's yelp of indignation, John then resolutely returned to Carson's side – supporting him as best he could until, finally, the tide of revolting ickiness came to a merciful end.

Still coughing and spluttering, trembling with effort, Carson then slumped back against the pillows – struggling to focus oddly uncooperative eyes on the line of anxious faces that swam in front of them.

Elizabeth's. Rodney's. John's. Teyla's. All sharing the same expression of concerned sympathy.

It was the face at the end, though, which caused an already faltering smile to disappear completely – the near deer-eyed panic which its presence invoked not lost on the all-seeing eyes of John Sheppard

As one almighty storm now passed, another was still clearly affecting two pivotal members of his team. And the best way for them to ride that storm out was behind the private sanctuary of closed doors.

John knew he'd pay for this at his next physical, but… well, sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind

"Hey, doc, good to have you back…" he grinned, making a point of making his tone breezily cheerful. "I'm guessing you're gonna be laid up in here for a while yet, though, so until your teams get back… well, I'm sure Lieutenant Ford here will take real good care of you… right, Lieutenant…?"

That, at least, gave the two combatants some common ground as both stared at him in utter shock.

"Sir…?"

"Wha'…? Ye – Ye mean…? 'h, crap…"

Recognising a call for a diplomatic exit when she saw it, Elizabeth was already nodding her agreement

"Yes, Major, we've a lot of loose ends to tie up…" she said at last, glancing pointedly towards Sora – breathing a quiet sigh of relief as both she and Teyla smiled back at her, thankfully taking the hint.

True to form, Rodney McKay was slightly slower on the diplomatic uptake than everyone else – granted just enough time to snatch a roll of bandage as John Sheppard steered him towards the door.

Pausing there, John glanced back to offer one last piece of cheerily encouraging, big-brotherly advice.

"Play nice, kids…" he grinned, offering each 'kid' a playful wink, before closing the doors behind him

Left alone behind tactfully locked doors, Carson stared nervously back at his scowling nursemaid. Confronted by such outright sulkiness, he then did the only sane, sensible thing he could do.

Fighting a losing battle against a still violently rebellious stomach, he sat up, rolled onto his side – and promptly emptied it again, all over Aiden Ford's once immaculately polished boots.

He woke slowly, still painfully aware of the mother of all headaches pounding through his temples – quiet movement beside him finally coaxing Carson to slowly, very gingerly, re-open his eyes.

The first sight that met them was a small basin resting on top of his chest, a cloth hung over its side.

Staring at it, with all the comprehension of a potted plant, Carson then winced as memory returned – his moan of dismay sufficiently loud enough to bring Aiden Ford's head up to a more visible level.

And if he'd been annoyed before… well, not surprisingly, he was thoroughly PO-ed with him now

"Thought you might need that…" Ford said at last, nodding pointedly towards the basin on his chest – his intention to return to mopping up the floor effectively ended by a pained, warningly faint whisper.

"'ye, lad, 'm – I'm s'rry…"

Messily ickified boots regardless, bearing grudges and spiteful malice wasn't in Aiden Ford's nature.

Beyond its pain and suffering, there was something else in that face, too, that silently shamed him. Injured and helpless, totally vulnerable, Carson Beckett was staring at him with near dread in his eyes. To have invoked such fear, it… well, it wasn't something that Aiden Ford could take much pride in.

"Hey, forget it, doc, you… well, you couldn't help it…" he said at last, shrugging his shoulders – hoping the smile he'd dredged onto his face would help settle both of their restless, unsettled nerves.

Evidently not, since Carson just nodded, screwing his eyes against a fresh assault of face-paling pain.

"Hey, easy, doc… easy, just ride it out now…" Ford soothed him, gently squeezing his shoulder – genuine alarm rising into his voice as he felt an unhealthy tremor within it spread down Carson's arm. "Hey, come on, doc, stay with me here… can – can I get you anything…?"

Dragging himself back to consciousness, albeit with worrying difficulty, Carson then shakily nodded.

"S'line… ne'd saline…" he finally whispered, turning his eyes towards a shelf on the opposite wall. "G – Going 'nto shock… n – need a line… IV… t' – to r'place fluids…"

Hardly the most lucid instruction he'd ever heard, but Aiden Ford had still caught its urgent gist – long-legged strides taking him across the room and back again before Carson had finished speaking.

Quietly dreading what he knew was coming next, he then offered Carson an awkward, nervous grin.

"Kinda have to admit, doc, I'm… well, I'm not too good with needles… especially big ones…"

That won him just the trace of a stronger, easier smile as Carson fumbled the IV kit into his lap.

"Don' w'rry, lad, I – I'll talk ye thro'gh it…" he whispered, nodding towards a nearby trolley. "F'rst thing, st'rile wipe acr'ss my h'nd…"

Dryly congratulating himself on being able to translate barely coherent Scottish, Ford nodded – staring in pure astonishment as the moment he'd silently dreaded was lifted from his shoulders.

Taking a deep, hand-steadying breath, Carson gritted his teeth before sliding the IV port into place – the soft curse which then escaped him needing very little in the way of cross-culture translation.

"Chr'st, that – th'at blo'dy hurt…!"

Yet even as his hand jerked fitfully in protest, Carson kept his bloodied fingers resolutely in place – the quiet, shaky urgency in his voice finally galvanising his stunned, gaping assistant into action.

"Rig't, lad, a bit o' gauze on the're, then op'n up the valve, an' – and we're re'dy for s'me meds…"

"Meds…?" Ford echoed, silently praying he wasn't about to need one of those sick basins too. He'd seen some nauseating things in his time, but what he'd just seen Carson Beckett do to himself…

Carson had somehow still managed to read his thoughts, since he now dredged up a ghost of a grin.

"Don' worry, son, w're done wi' the needles…" he chuckled, nodding towards yet another shelf. "Th'rd shelf down, you'll – you'll f'nd s'me smaller syr'nges… need one f'r Dramamine…"

Strongly tempted to nab some anti-nausea treatment for himself, Ford nodded and hurriedly obliged – watching in relieved fascination as, albeit still shakily, Carson emptied those precious meds into his IV.

Self-treatment complete, Carson then rested his head back into his pillows and sighed in pure, total relief. And when his eyes drifted closed once more, Aiden Ford made no attempt to rouse him to open them.

Instead he gave Carson's free hand just the gentlest of proudly admiring, encouraging squeezes – staring, in deeply humbled surprise, when clumsily fumbling fingers did the same in return.

The meds had thankfully kicked in now, for which Aiden Ford was truly, and deeply, grateful. Just ten minutes after IV 101, Carson's colour and alertness levels were both starting to improve – enough for him to quietly broach the subject which, if truth be told, Ford had already forgotten.

"I'm – I'm sorry, Aiden, for… well, for givin' ye such a hard time back there…" he said at last – blinking, in honest, deeply relieved surprise when Ford waved away his further attempts to apologise

"Hey, forget it, doc, we… well, I kinda think we both lost our heads today…" he replied softly – pausing for a moment, thinking out his words, before resolutely meeting the wide blue eyes beside him. "Major Sheppard reminded me of something earlier, doc, that… well, that kinda got lost back there… he reminded me you're a doctor, not… well, not someone who's been trained to fight in combat..."

Turning away to re-fill his coffee, he didn't see the stricken wince which had crossed Carson's face. By the time he turned back again, the pain in his eyes, the memories behind it, were more or less gone

Assuming, from its remnants, that a little more fence-building was needed, Ford then winked at him.

"Mind you, the Major also said he couldn't have flown or landed that Jumper better himself… even went so far as to reckon you could give him some lessons, once you're back on your feet…"

"He – He did…?" Carson stared back at him, relieved, flattered and horrified in equal measure. "Dear God, is – is he tha' bloody desperate…?"

He'd said it so seriously, in such wide eyed dismay, that Ford couldn't stop a whoop of laughter. Yet even as Carson cautiously allowed himself a shy grin in return, his eyes remained serious – awkwardness joining the clouds of exhaustion within them as he sighed, listlessly shaking his head.

"He's right, though, son, I – I can't fight, or – or face combat to save my life…" he finally whispered – something about the shakiness in his next words prompting Ford to become instantly serious too. "It's – It's all the killing, son… all – all the killin' and fightin'… I've just seen so much death here… I've – I've even caused some of it… and – an' that's just not what I'm about, Aiden, but… but here I am, still – still expected to – to use a gun, to kill if I have to, and… it just isn't me, son… I'm a doctor, Aiden, and – an' I – I just wish people could remember that sometimes…"

He was becoming more and more agitated now, close to tears, as Ford struggled to think out his reply

"Yeah, I'm getting to understand that now…" he said at last, giving Carson's arm a gentle squeeze. "And you're one hell of a doctor, too, Carson, you're one of the best… no, the best, I've ever seen…"

As he'd hoped, and expected, this gently rallying reassurance was just what his CMO needed to hear.

"Aye, you're a good lad too, son…" Carson sighed, thankfully calmer now as he looked around him. "An' – And ev'ryone else is okay…? I – I thought I saw tha' R'dney was hurt too, an'… and Teyla…"

"Yeah, they were…" Ford admitted, quickly reassuring him as Carson's face instantly fell in alarm. "Don't worry, doc… Teyla's fine, and McKay… well, he's kinda been left to do his own voodoo…"

"He is...? God help us…" Carson muttered, closing his eyes against the horrors of his meds-addled imagination

Grinning too, sharing the same joke, Ford then grew serious again, giving Carson's arm a gentle shake

"Hey, doc, should you be doing that…?" he asked anxiously, recalling his CO's earlier advice. "Only Major Sheppard said with this concussion, and all, I had to keep you awake, and talking, and…"

"Och, did he now…?" Carson asked mildly, cranking one eye open in deeply sceptical amusement. "An' what else did Dr Sheppard ha'e to say about me…?"

Taking the tactful fifth on that one, Ford just grinned and settled for a wisely non-committal shrug

"'sides, lad, I'd h've thought you'd enjoy the peace and quiet…" Carson then added just as dryly – meeting Ford's eyes with none of the hurt he'd dreaded, only fond affection, as he closed his eyes. "No, son, I – I need to rest now… jus' wake me up ev'ry two hours, make sure I'm still lucid…"

"Every two hours… you got it…" Ford grinned, setting the alarm on his watch for good measure

By the time he looked up again, Carson Beckett had drifted into a deep, preciously healing sleep – pretty much scuppering all hopes for the further, fence-building talk he knew they still needed.

The peaceful smile on his face, though…? Smiling too as he studied it, Ford knew it was enough. In fact, he reflected, resting a proud, protective hand on Carson's arm, it was more than enough.

He'd given them the best part of the morning to talk things out, to try and settle their differences. Now, as he stood outside the Infirmary's still closed doors, John Sheppard couldn't help but wonder. The silence within could be a good sign, of course. It could also mean there'd been serious bloodshed.

Quietly hoping it wasn't the latter, John cautiously nudged the door open a crack and peered inside – encouraged enough by the peaceful scene that met them to venture further inside towards Carson's bed

His reception once he got there, it was… well, John had to dryly admit, it was different.

"Sh…!" Ford warned, adding a sheepish 'Sir…' before nodding to the huddle of blankets next to him. "Just got him settled again, and… well, let's just say he gets kinda cranky when you wake him up…"

"Yeah, I bet he does…" John deadpanned, still studying the snugly curled, peacefully sleeping figure – his next quiet words conveying every bit of his pride and relief as he re-met Ford's expectant eyes. "Nice job, Lieutenant… things are… well, looking one hell of a lot better here than when I left…"

Catching his CO's typically subtle undermeaning, Ford relaxed a little, grinning happily back at him.

"Yes, sir, they are…" he agreed softly, confident enough to try a little subtle undermeaning of his own. "The doc here, he's… well, he's quite something, sir… he's taught me one hell of a lot…"

"Yeah, he'll kinda do that for you…" John agreed softly, recalling his own learning curve encounter. Deciding he'd done enough brotherly preaching for one day, he then nodded towards Carson's hand.

"Including some more field medic skills too, I see…"

Thrown for a moment, Ford then shook his head while softly, and reverently, putting his CO straight.

"Actually, sir, he… um… well, the doc did that himself…" he explained, carefully checking the half empty IV –a wince of sympathy mirroring John Sheppard's quiet, typically dry and succinct response.

"He did…? Ouch…"

As if in subconscious agreement, Carson stirred in his sleep, rubbing fretfully at the tubing on his hand. Seemingly satisfied that it was still in place, he then sighed deeply, curling back under the covers.

Watching him settle in wisely silent amusement, CO and subordinate shared an equally proud smile.

"Yeah, he's quite the trouper alright…" Ford said at last, nodding back to the IV stand beside him. "I mean, you've seen the size of those needles, sir… had them jabbed in enough times yourself to… well, you know how much they hurt... yet the doc here, he just took the thing, calm as you like, and…"

"Yes, thank you, Lieutenant… picture sketched, drawn and coloured in…" John cut in quickly – making a mental note to discuss the finer points of 'non essential intel' at their next staff meeting.

Watching the sheepish realization dawn on his lieutenant's face, though, he couldn't help but smile. The quietest, most unlauded hero on the base, it seemed, had just found himself another admirer. And what a treat it was to hear his earlier words re-spoken, and understood, in such heartfelt pride.

"He... um... did what he had to do, sir... I - I mean, the doc knew he needed that IV to stop himself from deteriorating, and... well..."

"Yes, Ford, I know..." John nodded back at him, then rolled his eyes at the grinning tribute that followed.

"Guess this makes him a real storm-trouper... right, sir...?"

"We can name him later..." John shot back - although he, too, was grinning broadly as he said it.

He'd already guessed what the answer would be to his next question, but – well, just for the pride and pleasure of hearing and seeing that response, he asked it anyway.

"Just thought you'd like to know, the doc's teams should be getting back here in a few hours, so… well, if you want to go grab yourself some sack-time, I can keep an eye on him 'til they get here…"

As he'd hoped, and proudly expected, his lieutenant was already smiling back at him, shaking his head

"Thanks, sir, but… well, if it's okay with you, I'd like to stay… I – I kinda think he'd like me to…"

"Yeah, I can imagine he would…" John agreed, casting his second in command a gently probing glance. "Mind if I sit in with you until they get here…?"

The infectious grin grew wider as Ford chuckled softly, nodding to the huddle of blankets beside them

"Must admit, sir, that would be nice… at least then I can have a normal, two way conversation…"

Grinning back at him, John nodded too, drawing up a spare chair to the bedside before flopping into it.

"Yeah, he's something else alright…" he said at last, the rest of his thoughts spoken only to himself.

'Spark out asleep, doc, andhell, you just can't stop with the healing, can you…?'

Stretching back in his chair, John Sheppard then allowed himself a thoroughly contented smile. There were times when the burden of playing surrogate big brother could be a prize pain in the butt.

At times like these, though, with his family safe and sound and, thankfully, back in harmony…? Well, playing big brother was the best feeling in the world.