DISCLAIMER – Stargate: Atlantis is the intellectual property of MGM/UA and associates. I am not receiving compensation in any from, from any source, for the creation of this story. It is a work of fan fiction only, written for personal enjoyment. No copyright infringement is intended.

Dr. Itzhak Perlman and Dr. Hanna Eriksson are my original characters. If you would like to use them, you may. Just ask me first.

RATING – This story is rated T

A/N – Holy cow! Once again, my lovely readers, you have amazed and humbled me with your response. I will confess I never really expected an OC fic to generate as much feedback as this one seems to be generating. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and also thanks to those of you who are reading but may not be reviewing. I do appreciate constructive comments, though, so if anyone has any for me, don't be afraid to share.

I have no beta. Any mistakes you might find are all mine.

The Promised Land

2. A Line In The Sand

Dear Naomi,

I think I've discovered another incarnation of Professor Amir.

If you thought our dear old landlord in Tel Aviv was the master of bureaucratic claptrap, then you've not met the illustrious Dr. Elizabeth Weir. She is the leader of our expedition, and believe me when I say a finer politician never was born or made. This woman would give our Amir a run for his money any day of the week, and twice on the Sabbath.

I'm sure Dr. Weir is a nice woman. Hanna says she's a great leader, and everyone here seems to think very highly of her. I prefer to reserve judgment until I've had an encounter with her that doesn't involve her quoting endless policies and procedures and me nodding as if my very future rests on every word she says. One thing I learned from time spent with dear old Amir is the fine art of subterfuge. There's something to be said for the ability to look focussed and attentive when your mind is really light-years away. Amir always commented on what a good listener I am. I truly did pay attention to him when he had something useful to say, but you know how rare that was. I think most of the time he talked for the sake of his own self-importance.

God save us all from the officious and the inane.

My meeting with Dr. Weir yesterday afternoon did provide a brief interlude in an otherwise tedious day. One might think life on another planet would be exciting, or at the very least, interesting. Not so, my love. Atlantis is quite honestly a very boring place, especially when one's superiors deny him the opportunity to begin the work he's been brought here to do.

Yesterday at lunch, my boss happily informed me that instead of working, I ought to use the day to get settled in. Imagine that! If he was talking about my getting acclimatized to my surroundings, he must be the worst kind of optimist. Earth, this place surely is not. Learning to live here with my sanity intact is going to require more than an afternoon of roaming the halls and smiling at strangers.

By now, I expect you're wondering about the identity of this person of whom I have such a high opinion. My immediate superior is a man by the name of Carson Beckett. He's one of those doctors who seem to think psychology merits a rightful place among the other medical disciplines. Well, you know how I feel about that. Psychology has never held much sway with me as a legitimate profession, much less a branch of medicine.

Beckett certainly seems determined to analyze me. I don't know what he'll do when he figures out his attempts to unpack my emotional baggage aren't succeeding. I don't think he's the sort that copes well with disappointment.

This afternoon, I'm going with him to the mainland. I still haven't done any actual work. Maybe the Athosians will need my skills.

The Athosians are our neighbours, though this isn't their home planet. They originated on a world called Athos, but had to leave when they were attacked by the Wraith. I'll explain about the Wraith later. Suffice it to say they are aliens and they're the enemy. Effectively, they made our Athosian neighbours into refugees.

I think you would like the Athosian leader. Her name is Teyla Emmagan, and she is one of the most self-possessed women I have ever met. I don't know her very well yet, but I feel safe in admitting I like her. In some ways, she reminds me of you.

I hope the other Athosians are as friendly as Teyla. If they are, I might find myself spending more time on the mainland than locked away in this gilded cage. Time spent in the great outdoors among people with no hidden agendas or insincere smiles seems as close to Paradise as a man can get.

I promise to tell you all about the mainland in my next letter. If I see any flowers there, I'll sketch them for you, because I know how much you like exotic flowers. I don't suppose you could find more exotic flowers than ones from another galaxy.

Tell the boys I love them. Hug Sam and Nathan for me.

Faithfully,
Itzhak

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

'Jumper bay…'jumper bay…

Itzhak realizes this designation is meaningless to him as he roams the corridors in search of the place where he's supposed to meet Dr. Beckett. He knows it's where they keep the puddlejumpers, but that is logically obvious. He wishes the location of the bay was as obvious. Maybe someone ought to post a sign with a picture and an arrow. This way to the 'jumpers.

In theory, Itzhak knows what a puddlejumper is, and he thinks he understands the basic principles of how to fly one. He might even have been capable of learning to fly a 'jumper himself, if he'd allowed Dr. Beckett to administer his Ancient Technology Activator gene therapy.

Itzhak shivers at the thought of Beckett's ATA gene therapy. He'd told Itzhak about it this morning while they'd been in one of the labs. Beckett explained the gene therapy is administered by injection and carried throughout the body by means of a mouse retrovirus. The therapy is successful in forty-eight percent of cases. Beckett is thrilled with this result.

After giving his little speech about the project and its success, Beckett had the nerve to suggest Itzhak should receive the ATA gene therapy. Itzhak knows too much about genetics to be comfortable with the idea of Carson Beckett's mouse retrovirus mucking about inside his body. He doesn't want anything tampering with his genes. In his opinion, potentially gaining the ability to fly a spaceship with his mind is not worth the risk of having his body used for experimental purposes. Naturally, he'd declined to be a party to Dr. Beckett's plan.

What he'd actually said was, there's no way in hell you're doing that to me.

The look of complete shock on Carson Beckett's face had been gratifying. Just for a moment, the balance of power had shifted Itzhak's way. Of course, by failing to tell Itzhak exactly how to get to the 'jumper bay, Beckett has subtly tipped the scale in his own favour again.

Itzhak stops in the middle of the corridor and tries to get his bearings. He's sure he is going in circles now. This is frustrating. He's never had a very good sense of direction, and everything in these corridors looks the same to him. He exhales noisily.

"Excuse me," says a male voice behind him. "Are you lost?"

Startled by the unexpected presence of another person, Itzhak turns around quickly to see who has addressed him. The individual standing there is a man around Itzhak's own age. His light brown hair is in disarray and his clothes are so rumpled that Itzhak wonders if the man might have slept in them. He peers at Itzhak over the top of round, silver-rimmed glasses that have migrated precariously toward the tip of his nose.

"Am I lost?" Itzhak echoes. "As a matter of fact…yes."

"Where are you trying to go?" The man speaks with a peculiar accent, perhaps something eastern European. "I can help you."

"Can you tell me how to find the 'jumper bay?"

"You can walk with me. I'm going there," says the man. He smiles in a friendly manner. "You must be Dr. Perlman."

"How do you know that?"

"Atlantis is small city, and news does travel faster than the speed of light. Besides," the man adds, waving a hand at the flag patch on Itzhak's jacket, "Rodney said our new doctor comes from Israel, so I made educated guess."

"Israel via England and the United States," Itzhak says. "Rodney wouldn't happen to be Rodney McKay, by any chance?"

"Yes. Have you met him?"

"Not yet, but his reputation precedes him."

"Rodney is legend in his own mind," the man says, but his remark is softened by a fond smile. "He can be difficult at times, but he's really good person. If he makes bad first impression on you, don't be surprised and don't take it personally. He treats everyone with equal disrespect."

Itzhak can't help being impressed by this man's frankness. "I'll keep that in mind, Doctor…?"

"Zelenka," says his companion, who suddenly looks sheepish. "You must forgive me. I know your name already and I haven't told you mine. I'm Radek Zelenka."

"I'm honoured, Dr. Zelenka."

Radek Zelenka beams at him and offers, "You can call me Radek, if you want to. Most people are on first-name basis here, though there are some exceptions."

"I'll keep that in mind, too," Itzhak says. "And if we're on a first-name basis, I guess you ought to call me Itzhak."

The two of them slip into an easy back-and-forth exchange as the make their way to the 'jumper bay. It's all small talk, but this suits Itzhak fine. He's not ready for any deep conversations yet, unless they happen to be work-related. He's not prepared to commit himself beyond casual acquaintance with somebody by revealing something too personal about himself, either.

Nevertheless, chatting with polite, amiable Radek Zelenka, he can see the potential for something positive. Even if they never become good friends, Itzhak thinks at least he ought to be able to consider Radek an ally. This might not seem like much, but it's more than he can say about some of the other people he's met around here.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Flying in the 'jumper makes Itzhak feel sick.

He curls around his misery and chastises himself for not knowing this would happen. His voyage on the Daedalus must have lulled him into a false sense of security about flying in spaceships, because somehow he'd gotten the idea that he would be perfectly fine in the 'jumper, too. If he'd thought about it logically, he tells himself now, he would have realized he'd been okay aboard Daedalus because Daedalus had been traversing the vacuum of deep space and he hadn't been able to feel the motion of the ship. Even though the 'jumper is capable of space flight, right now it's flying in the planet's atmosphere like an airplane, and that is a completely different matter altogether.

The day which had begun so uneventfully is deteriorating fast.

In the two front seats of the 'jumper, Dr. Beckett and Colonel Sheppard are engaged in a debate about which sport is more exciting, soccer or football. Evidently, the colonel prefers American football. Dr. Beckett says he prefers soccer, though he calls it football, which makes Sheppard laugh and tease him about not only his taste in sports but his choice of vocabulary as well.

Colonel Sheppard glances briefly over his shoulder into the rear of the 'jumper, where Itzhak and Teyla are sitting.

"What do you think, Dr. P?" the colonel inquires.

"I think you should concentrate on flying," Itzhak says, and notices he sounds just as miserable as he feels.

"It's under control, Doc. Don't worry," says Sheppard. "So, what do you think? Soccer or football?"

"Baseball."

"What?"

"I like baseball. How is this discussion relevant, Colonel?"

"Well…it isn't, I guess," Sheppard says. "I was just making conversation."

"John, I believe Dr. Perlman would rather not engage in a conversation right now," Teyla interjects. "Perhaps you could continue this debate about Earth sports some other time?"

"Okay…" Sheppard draws out the second syllable of the word, making his incomprehension known to everyone. "Whatever you say, Teyla. Any suggestions about what we should talk about?"

"Maybe somebody can tell me exactly what we're supposed to be doing on the mainland," Itzhak says, "since, apparently, no one saw fit to inform me before we left."

Dr. Beckett makes a small, nondescript noise that might be the product of annoyance, but his patient tone belies it when he speaks. "You might've asked before we left, Dr. Perlman. I would've told you anything you wanted to know."

"I shouldn't have to ask, should I? Or is disinformation standard procedure here?"

"Hey—" Sheppard begins.

Beckett holds up a hand. "Easy there, Colonel," he says gently, but continues more sternly when he addresses Itzhak. "Disinformation is not standard procedure, Dr. Perlman. I told you that we'd be going to the mainland to offer some medical assistance to the Athosians. You didn't ask for details, and I could only assume you were satisfied with what you'd been told."

"You assumed...?" Itzhak says.

"Several of our children have come down with an infectious disease," says Teyla. "It is highly contagious, but it is not fatal. Only when someone contracts it in adulthood, the condition becomes more complicated. Dr. Beckett has been coming every day for the last several days to look in on our children."

"Thankfully, none of the adults are showing any symptoms, yet," Dr. Beckett adds. "I'm hoping the situation stays that way. The disease seems to be a lot like chicken pox, and you know how dreadful that can be for an adult."

Chicken pox! It's all Itzhak can do not to unleash the diatribe that's pushing for freedom against the restraining edge of his conscience. He is an eminently qualified scientist, a leading researcher in his field. He's meant to do important work in a laboratory, not to be dragged off to some camp in the middle of nowhere to observe a few cases of a common childhood disease.

Despite his ire, Itzhak does have empathy for the Athosian children. It isn't their fault that they're ill. Itzhak doesn't like to see people suffering and he knows he's going to do everything he can to help them. His biggest complaint isn't about caring for a handful of sick children. They, at least, will have no ulterior motive for wanting him there.

Beckett, on the other hand, does not need him on the mainland. Itzhak is of the opinion that making him come along on this little trip is Beckett's way of exercising a bit of control, his attempt at establishing the departmental pecking order and making it clear to Itzhak who is really in charge.

"I can think of far worse infections than chicken pox," Itzhak says. He irons all the nuance from his voice, and adds, "When you work in epidemiology, you see it all. The genetically engineered diseases are the worst."

Carson Beckett's eyes widen slightly and he looks a little mystified, as if he can't quite grasp what he's hearing. He stammers, "Aye…I expect they are."

"I could have showed you a thing or two, back in my lab on Earth."

"I…expect you could have," Beckett manages.

"I don't suppose I'll have much opportunity to study that sort of thing here, though, will I?" Itzhak says, still being careful not to allow sarcasm to creep into his tone. "I imagine we'll all be much too busy practicing frontier medicine to do a lot of research."

Beckett says nothing. Mollified by this small victory, Itzhak slumps in his seat and welcomes the ensuing silence amid which he can nurse his upset stomach and his self-pity. Teyla casts a reproachful look in his direction. He mouths a penitent "Sorry," but doesn't offer anything more.

Up front, Sheppard says quietly to Beckett, "Carson, are you just going to let that go?"

"For now," Carson murmurs. "Aye, for now I'll let him have the benefit of the doubt. Give him a wee bit of time to settle down, and then we'll see."

We'll see, Itzhak echoes in his mind. We'll see. He can't help thinking, now he and Carson Beckett have locked themselves into an inexorable struggle for power. Inevitably, only one of them can be the winner.

Itzhak Perlman is a man who hates to lose.

TBC
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A/N #2 – I know I said I'd update All Fun and Games sometime today, but I hit the proverbial wall with Chapter 14. I think I'll try re-writing it and see if it works a little better. lol…we'll see.