By Its Cover
By Ann3
Writer's Note: Apologies, first of all, for the sub-title. Blame it on too much choccy over Easter ! It kinda made me go a bit hyper… ;o)
Just been watching Duet, for… um… well, you know, research purposes, and… it's the grey suit. No, really, it's the sight of our Carson in that suit. Every time I watch him running across that field, this happy little voice in my head just seems to go 'Whoo hoo, get that boy off-world more often !'
So with apologies to another certain time travelling Doctor, here's Cadman's thoughts on our hero. And since he's been whumped senseless in the last few chapters, I'm giving the poor wee thing something to smile about in this one. As always, I hope you enjoy !
Dr Whoo-hoo
Laura Cadman didn't like doctors. No, more than that, she hated doctors. She loathed doctors. Unless they were rich, single and looked like George Clooney, she didn't want to know.
Ever since she'd come reeling out of her last physical with her arm resembling a damn pin-cushion – well, if she'd had her P90 handy, she'd have shown that idiot CMO exactly what she'd thought of him.
His calamitous attempts to draw blood from her paled into insignificance, however, to what Laura now heard about Dr Carson Beckett. The CMO at their new posting, it seemed, had one hell of a reputation behind him – none of it good.
"Well, I heard he was a walking disaster area…" Judy Hobson revealed in a conspiratory whisper – glancing furtively around her, before leaning in to continue what was clearly a not so secret secret. "When he was back on Antarctica, he fired one of those drone weapons at General O'Neill…! Nearly took him and Maj- Colonel Sheppard out...!"
From where she sat, nosed buried in botanic reports, Katie Brown stared at her friend in utter alarm.
"He – He did…? I – I mean, deliberately…?"
It was a good thing she'd brought those reports. At least she could now hide her blushes behind them.
As much as she was enjoying the joke too Laura felt honour bound to make sure it didn't go too far.
"Oh, come on, he can't be that bad…! I mean, there's that oath that all doctors swear by, that…"
"…they'll do no harm… yeah, I know…" Judy nodded, clearly enjoying her moment in the spotlight. "But from what I hear, he's got this freaky Ancient gene thing, that General O'Neill has too, and… well, he can fire these alien weapons, and do all sorts of other weird stuff, just by using his mind…!"
While not one to be swayed by idle, often wildly inaccurate gossip, Laura felt her curiosity pique. If nothing else, this CMO on Atlantis, this Dr Carson Beckett sounded… interesting.
'I bet George Clooney can't launch the most powerful weapons in the world just by using his mind…'
From the all knowing mouth of Judy Hobson came further pearls of not entirely positive wisdom.
"And on top of all that, he's… he's… Scottish…"
The joys of their new CMO's homeland clearly hadn't made it beyond the ties of ignorant stereotyping. Along with pained winces of dismay, a chorus of groans now rippled through the Daedalus' mess-hall.
"Oh, jeez… Scottish…"
"Mean…"
"Miserable…"
"No sense of humour…"
"Freaky liking for sheep…"
"Yeah, and what's with them eating something made out of the damn thing's stomach…?"
"Tell me about it… had to have the damn stuff at my cousin's wedding…"
"You did…? Eeeeeeeeew…!"
Suffering a strangely instant loss in appetite, Laura Cadman stared morosely at her abandoned lunch. Oh, this was just great. As soon as they arrived on Atlantis, the first thing they'd face was the CMO. And if she'd not been dreading that indignity before – well, she was sure as hell dreading it now.
All those tests. Hours of being poked and prodded by a mean, miserable, haggis-loving Scotsman. Knowing her luck, he was probably as ugly as hell too, and old. Old enough to be her damn father.
So it was with some trepidation that, several hours later, Laura Cadman arrived at her new posting.
The reception committee was already there in the control room, casually looking over the new intake.
A tall, elegantly austere woman who had to be, could only be, the expedition leader, Dr Weir. Flanking her, already earning appreciatively admiring murmurs, stood her newly promoted CO.
And next to Colonel Sheppard…? That warmly smiling figure, stethoscope draped around an unmistakeably white labcoat…?
'Take a hike, Mr Clooney… 'cos if that's who I think it is, I think I'm in love…'
She was silently salivating. She knew her jaw had just hit the metaphorical floor. But she didn't care. Happily drinking in one seriously lunchable CMO, Laura Cadman didn't care at all.
In an equally lovelorn daze, Judy Hobson now placed herself in peril of an equally serious cat-fight.
"Hey, is – is that him…? If that's Beckett, he can launch my drones any time he likes…"
"Back off, sister, he's mine… I saw him first… and I outrank you…" Laura growled back at her – whatever she'd planned to say next lost, perhaps thankfully, in Elizabeth Weir's brisk greeting.
"Welcome to Atlantis… I'm sure if you're looking for interesting challenges, you'll find them here…"
Safely locked within her imagination, Laura Cadman was thinking out a few challenges of her own. All of them involved the drop dead gorgeous doctor who now stood listening to his leader's words. And none of those challenges, it had to be said, were suitable for sharing out loud.
They were clearly close, she mused, dragging those thoughts out of increasingly murky depths – allowing herself to smile too as she watched a brotherly pride further enhance that striking face.
In fact, Laura now noted, they all seemed to share this near familial bond of caring protectiveness. After the horrors she'd witnessed in Afghanistan, it was a warmly reassuring, comforting thought – almost as warm, almost as reassuring, as the dimpled smile that now directed itself towards her.
She could see his eyes too now, an impossibly clear blue, as he stepped forward to introduce himself – a playful brogue instantly undoing all those preconceptions on mean, miserable, humourless Scotsmen.
"Well now, lads and lassies… for those who didn't know me at the SGC, I'm Dr Carson Beckett… I'm your CMO here, in charge of your medical care, so if you have any questions, ye just have to ask, and... oh, aye... and if ye have trouble with my accent, I'm sure the Colonel here won't mind translating for ye…"
"Yeah, universal translators come as standard kit when the doc's around…" Sheppard shot back – prompting another wave of appreciative laughter, and the promise of deeply painful revenge.
Chuckling too at that priceless 'You'll pay for that...' expression, Laura allowed her thoughts to once again happily wander. Yes, he was older than she was. In a position of such responsible authority, he'd simply had to be.
Not too much older, though. Mid thirties, at a guess… just a shade younger than her new CO. Certainly not that much senior to her to deter her, or stop her, from getting to know him better.
And she was going to get to know him better. Laura Cadman had already promised herself that.
'Face, eyes and a smile that could stop traffic… talk about your weapons of mass distraction…'
Suddenly recalling a far less charitable discussion over destructive weaponry, Laura then cringed. Damn it, did possession of the Ancient gene also include the ability to read other people's minds…? Had he been silently eavesdropping on all she'd been thinking since she'd seen him, including…?
Oh, crap.
If he had – well, she was now in as much deep water, up that creek without a paddle, as her new CO.
Forcing herself to ignore its many distractions, Laura made herself look up, to meet his face again – breathing a silent sigh of pure relief when that warm smile offered her nothing but friendliness.
She thought she could read something else in his eyes, something that shyly hoped for more, but – well, her lovelorn imagination had already made quite enough of an idiot of itself for one day.
So instead, Laura smiled back, quietly setting herself another, more reasonably rated challenge. She wasn't sure if she'd read his eyes correctly, or misread the silent hopes within them, but – oh yes, she now happily reflected, it was going to be great fun finding out.
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It was the light freshness of his cologne that first penetrated the foggy dimness of her senses. Soft, under-stated and unfailingly charming. Just like the voice that now quietly coaxed her awake.
"Lieutenant…? Laura…? Can ye hear me, lass…? Can ye try and open your eyes for me…?"
If she'd had the strength and energy, Laura might have been tempted to go far more enjoyably further than that. All things considered, though… well, there seemed little chance of that happening any time soon.
Kissing Carson Beckett had been every bit as fantastic as she'd hoped, except for one tiny problem. Her lovelorn consciousness had been stuck inside Rodney McKay's lame excuse for a body at the time. In physical terms, it had been his mouth, not hers, that had latched like a limpet onto that of his deer-eyed friend.
Needless to say, as far as Laura was concerned, that had taken pretty much all of the pleasure out of the experience.
'Damn it, McKay…! As if you're not insufferable enough, you got to snog my would be boyfriend…!'
A stunned, speechless, scandalized Carson Beckett hadn't exactly looked thrilled about it either – especially since an eyes-out-on-stalks John Sheppard had been standing just feet away from him at the time. So had Dr Weir. McKay's team, and quite an army of Carson's.
'Oh, jeez… someone, please, just shoot me now… better still, give me a gun and I'll shoot McKay instead…'
Perhaps thankfully interpreting her groan of embarrassment as one of discomfort, he called her again – the strong hand that slipped so easily around her own so comforting that she couldn't bear to let it go.
"Laura…? Come on, lass, I know you're in there… come on, now, love, it's time to wake up now…"
He called all the women on the base 'love', of course, so Laura knew it wasn't unusual, and yet… was there just a hint of extra warmth in its use this time, a special affection, destined just for her…? And at least if she did open her eyes, she'd also get to see and quietly savour his smile.
It was as warm and cheerfully friendly as ever, broadening in open relief in response to her recovery. His voice, too, held no trace of anger or chastisement – only the gentleness that was his and his alone.
"There ye are now, lass… aye, that's more like it… how are ye feeling…? Can I get ye anything…?"
Still trying to gauge the mood between them, Laura managed to dredge up a weak grin in return.
"Got a good cure for terminal embarrassment…?" she asked at last, pulling an appropriate face – cautiously joining in his amusement as Carson Beckett dissolved into fits of equally sheepish laughter
"If there is, lass, then… well, I rather think he'll be needing more of it than you…" he retorted dryly, making a point of giving her hand another gentle squeeze as Laura anxiously followed his guiding nod. "Don't worry, lass, he'll be okay, he's just sleeping it off… the both of ye will be just fine now…"
Nodding in still pensive agreement, Laura turned her head back again to hesitantly re-meet his eyes.
"What – What about us, are we…? I – I mean, are we okay…?"
He'd clearly been anticipating this moment, since Carson now smiled, blushing deep into his dimples.
"Aye, lass, of course we are… he assured her gently, tilting his head in playful, teasing encouragement. "Why wouldn't we be…?"
Duly encouraged, Laura grinned back at him, shrugging in the same casual, mischievous innocence.
"Oh, I don't know…" she shot back, hoping the sudden rush of warmth to her face wasn't too obvious. "I just thought, you know, the whole manhandling you thing in the lab back there while trying to suck out your tonsils..."
She'd been quietly dreading this moment ever since she'd acted on that make-or-break impulse. So the relief she now felt as Carson broke once more into albeit sheepish laughter was almost palpable.
"Aye, lass… aye, that was… um… well, a definite first for me, I'd have to admit…" he said at last – making a show of looking around them, before leaning in closer to add a slyly winked afterthought. "Although that's not to say I didnae enjoy it, Laura, or… well, that I'm sorry it happened…"
As Laura stared at him, in delighted surprise, he then glared towards his other, gently snoring patient
"All I regret, lass, is that I didn't get to enjoy the best part of it, whereas that lucky bugger did…!"
If ever there was a chance to put that grievous wrong right, Laura dazedly reflected, this was it. Apart from a soundly snoring McKay, she and Carson were the only people in the Infirmary. But to her frustrated chagrin, the lousily timed needs of Ronon's latest sparring partner put paid to that.
Still, there was a definite plus side as she watched him hurry to Major Lorne's ruefully limping aid. Even in those less than flattering, baggy fatigues, Dr Carson Beckett really had the cutest buns.
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Laura Cadman could have been forgiven for thinking she'd travelled through her very own time-warp wormhole. For the second time that week, she found herself striding through a field of sweetly scented flowers.
There were differences, though, between this time and the last. Several happily enjoyable differences. For one thing, there was no unwelcome third wheel, driving her nuts with his self-centred whining. No whining, either, of a far more terrifying kind. No unmistakeable sound of an incoming Dart. And no fear lurking at the back of her mind of finding more victims of the Wraith's brutal scourge.
No, the only obstacle between her and Carson Beckett now was the inevitable constraint of time. Sent on a routine mission together to the mainland, she'd been determined to make the most of it.
After what she'd been through… well, all clichés aside, it really would be just what the doctor ordered. For one thing, they'd be able to talk through what had happened without the intrusion of yet more, increasingly tiresome teasing gossip.
And as John Sheppard had dryly observed, he was going to benefit from this budding romance too – his less than romantic motive met with a gentle slap of rebuke on his chest from his equally amused companion.
'I'll have to send Cadman off-world more often, Liz… get her more field experience...'cos where she goes, you can just bet that our Carson's just gonna be itching to follow, and… ow…!'
Still laughing, pointedly ignoring that infamous whipped puppy expression, she'd then nodded towards the hovering Jumper.
'I tell you now, John… if Carson hears you say that, I won't be responsible for the consequences...'
Pulling a face back at her, John had then grinned as he'd followed the line of proudly approving eyes. For all the teasing and ulterior motives, he was as happy for Carson's good fortune as Elizabeth was – his next words met with another, thankfully slap-free nod of agreement as they'd watched them leave.
'Have fun, kids… and don't do anything I wouldn't do…'
Such frivolous thoughts, of course, had never entered Laura's mind as they'd arrived on the mainland. Instead she'd kept that mind focussed on the job until the official part of their visit was safely over – staying protectively close to Carson's side while he gave the Athosians their latest medical checks.
Now, as they walked back to the Jumper, a smile of pure pleasure spread across Carson's face as he gazed around their surroundings.
"Ye know, lass…? With just a wee bit of heather and some sheep, I could almost think I was home… all this lovely countryside and fresh air, and... ah, this looks like a good spot... I dinna know about you, lass, but I'm ready for some eats..."
Grinning back at her, Carson then deposited their hamper, with some gratitude, onto the ground – his near childlike enthusiasm as he rummaged through its contents effortlessly squeezing Laura's heart.
The small, well-wrapped package that he eventually flourished, though, in such patriotic triumph…? Well, that kinda moved the squeezing sensation from her heart down to the pit of her stomach.
He must have seen her reaction, since that adorable smile fell instantly back into a wince of dismay.
"Oh, crap…" he moaned, starting another frantic, parcel tossing search for a more palatable alternative. "I'm – I'm sorry, lass, what was I thinking…? I didn't think to ask if you'd had haggis before, and… damn, I – I was sure I'd packed some sandwiches too… and some wee pies and cakes too, where the hell are they…? I bet that bloody McKay got his thieving mitts on 'em first… I swear I'll kill him if he has… or…"
As much as she was enjoying this masterclass in utter panic, Laura couldn't let it go on much longer – because if she did, she'd explode with laughter, and Carson Beckett would explode in frustration.
How to get him to stop hurling those parcels around, though…? Well, yeah, like that took too much thinking about.
Caught totally by surprise by its depth and intensity, Carson Beckett didn't know what had hit him. No, he then dazedly corrected himself, he knew what, or rather who, had hit him. He just couldn't quite believe how hard.
She'd clearly been following his advice of eating more porridge, since she'd blindsided him flat onto his back. Now she was fitting herself most enjoyably on top of him, kissing him. Kissing him senseless. Kissing him until his toes curled up in his boots, and… ooooooh…!
Finally allowing him up for air, Laura then grinned down at him, raising a mischievous eyebrow.
"Better than McKay…?" she asked at last, a strategically placed hand silently daring him to say no.
Too dazed to think, let alone talk, Carson just stared at her. Then he, too, let the devil into his smile.
"Would ye be awfy, awfy mad at me if I said no…?" he asked, deliberately exaggerating his accent – whatever he'd planned to say next lost in a shriek of laughter at the speed of her exquisite response.
Still tickling him, Laura allowed her grin to widen in the perverse delight of being proved wrong.
Mean…? Miserable…? No sense of humour…? Not where this particular Scotsman was concerned. And he was hers. Undeniably, irrevocably, soon to be very enjoyably, Dr Carson Beckett was hers.
At long last, she'd found the doctor of her dreams. Now, if she just get her head around the whole haggis thing…
