I'm a doctor, not a . . .
by Bluestar1
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate, not any of the characters/items etc. associated with them. Nor am I making any money from these, I write them for entertainment purposes only.
Author's Notes: Slight Sheppard/Weir in this one. Look away if you don't like that pairing.
Carson leaned back in his seat on the jumper and sighed, glad to be on his way back to Atlantis. The herd beasts – it was difficult to call green, furry, six-legged creatures cattle – had been suffering from an outbreak of Earth fleas, of all things. He'd explained to the Athosians what they were, given them instructions on the correct treatment and left a large batch of flea shampoo with them. Then, to the relief of Major Sheppard, who had agreed to fly him over, they had left.
The Puddlejumper soared into the sky over the blue waters of Atlantis, the pilot looking relaxed for the first time in hours. "Hey, Doc? Can I ask you a question?" Sheppard's eyes were fixed on the screen in front of him, but Beckett could tell that his attention was elsewhere.
"Ask away, Major." Carson closed his eyes in the hopes that Sheppard's problem would be one he was actually qualified to deal with.
"Doctor-patient confidentiality, right?"
Carson opened one eye. The major was plainly edgy about something, and no little embarrassed. "Of course, Major."
"It's about – well, it's about Doctor Weir. Do you think she . . . do you think I . . ."
Beckett levelled him with a glare the equal of anything a Wraith could inflict. "Major, I'd love to help,but I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist. Go talk to Kate Heightmeyer if you must, but don't start talking to me about how you feel."
Sheppard sighed. "You know, Doc, there are days when you sound like Doctor McCoy."
"There are days when I don't?" was Carson's reply.