A/N: Sorry for the short delay. Oh, and, Kc, actually I was gonna come back to that sun thing for a bit... ;-)

xxxxx

I wonder if he's coming back to his bloody peeling nose again... Carson turned the page and read the next entry:

Dear Diary,

Once again in weeks (!) I got fried by solar radiation. I'm so lucky I have my SPF 100 creme with me. (Note to Myself: Next time try one that doesn't produce such incredibly stinky, toxic fumes...)

And somehow nobody except for me, seemed to care about that planet's LETHAL radiation levels. Especially not that Major Lorne guy. He seems to be some exaggerated version of Sheppard; so he'll probably never learn that this stupid genius joke isn't FUNNY anymore. Well at least he got shot for it...

But that was not the worst part of my day: First of all Aiden Ford showed up again (poor, sucked kid, really) eager to prove me that he's okay. And for that I ran through the goddamned forest with him for hours on end. (Sorry, boy, you can do what you want, but you're really out of your mind...)

Oh, and well, then I became a little heroic and -shot- him. That really screwed my day. I ended up screaming and running for my life until I stepped into some INGENIOUS trap and ended up dangling from a tree like some stupid ape.

And of course things got even more worse! Ford had an urge to kill me because of the shooting thing (didn't think he'd be such a wailing weakling about it, though...). Then, as he was about to do so he got run over by some big, creepy-looking heap of muscles. He was the one who finally got me down after laughing his braids off at my misery. It's not at all fair! Anyway that guy is here with us in Atlantis now. He goes by the name Ronan and though he's saved my behind I still don't want to meet him in the dark.

By the way dark, I think that's it for now. Man, I'm soooo tired, got to take a nap.

See you. Your poor radiation victim, Rodney.

P.S.: And of course it is so great that Sheppard got promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. I should really immunize myself against stupid, military in-crowd gags!

---

All right, this one had been a real toughie. Carson wondered how one single person could wail that much. If he got a penny for every time Rodney lamented about something... he probably wouldn't be here, but in a cozy, little ultra-Caledonian castle, sitting on his millions.

But not that he himself hadn't had a hard time on this certain mission, too...

xxxxx

Dear Darleen,

Next time somebody forces me to play mobile OR, would you please remind me to kick this person?

I think what has happened to me today was the perfect example of how much everybody thinks me to be the bloody fire brigade. The situation was like this:

Elizabeth came in saying, "Carson I need you to perform an operation on an armed man who is holding Teyla hostage, oh, and, yeah the Wraith are to show up any minute..."

Hello? Excuse me? Who do y'all think I am? George Clooney? Err, wrong, I'm not. I'm just the poor Scottish physician who says "Aye" to everything.

And then there was Colonel Sheppard, reassuring as usual. He didn't flinch to send me in unarmed (not completely, but tranquilizers just don't count), after comparing me to Androkles, the cheeky bugger. Do you know Androkles? He's the nitwit that pulled out a thorn from a lion's paw... What does Sheppard know about Greek fables, anyway?

Not enough with that, my patient was a grumpy, bloody creepy lad who was armed to the teeth. Do I have to mention that he didn't follow any of my medical orders, now? That's so bloody typical, nobody cares for me, though I'm the one doing the dirty work for them, wanting all their best. But no, it's more important to point one's gun at an innocent lass while you're in grave danger to bleed to death or worse.

What happened to the world where doctors used to be semi-gods in white?

Aw, looks like I've been lamenting too much again. I'm so bloody sorry, lassie. Maybe it's better for me to stop now.


Love, Carson

---

Did Carson really just write that? Semi-gods in white! How about voodoo priests with a thick brogue? Not that he was a bad doctor, but there's no need to be heroic about anything, here.

And, yes, he was definitely no George Clooney, more the fluffy Highland version of Gonzo.

Smirking Rodney slipped backwards against Carson's desk until he bumped his head at its edge.

Yaw! Perhaps his last comparison had been a little over the top. But who cared? Contently Rodney put the letter aside and looked for the next one.

xxxxx

A/N: So that's it for now. See y'all in two weeks, after my little Easter vacation. Thanks for r&r'ing.

All the best, Baalsgirl