A/N Sorry for the delay folks!

Warning for bad language (f-bombs) and mild smut towards the end of the chapter. Just sayin'.

Chapter 11

The following afternoon, Carson made his way to Tamsin's room, a rucksack slung over his shoulder. He'd debated what to wear – this was lunch rather than dinner, but had gone for smart-casual in the end, choosing a dark blue shirt and khaki chinos. Not too smart, but far enough away from base uniform. He reached her door and rang the chimes, with just a hint of nerves.

"Hi. You look nice." She smiled, then glanced down at her own outfit. "Should I change? I wasn't sure what you wanted to do."

He took a moment to look at her. The leather jacket had made another appearance, with something silky underneath. Those figure-hugging jeans again. And were those flip-flops on her feet?

"Very nice. But you might want some more comfortable shoes. I thought we could take a walk out to the South pier, have a picnic."

She shrugged, hands in pockets.

"I'll be fine. These are standard issue where I come from. Shall we go?"

He wanted to offer her his arm, but thought better of it. This was a public place, after all, and people were bound to talk. The rumour mill usually had enough grist.

It was a short walk to the nearest transporter. They stepped inside, Tamsin pressing the map for the South pier. Moments later, they emerged near the edge of the city.

Now he could offer his arm without worrying about gossip. She took it with a shy smile, tucking her hand into his elbow and edging gratifyingly close. Even through his clothes he could feel her warmth.

They strolled in silence for a while, simply enjoying the peace and each other's company.

"So where do you come from that flip-flops are standard issue, then?" Carson began.

"Cornwall. Near Bodmin."

A West-Country lass, then. Not that he'd have worked it out – Tamsin had no trace of a regional accent, which was unusual. Working with so many people from different parts of the world he'd become quite good at recognising varied accents, and he wondered if she'd intentionally dropped hers. He didn't share those thoughts with her though.

"I wouldn't have guessed," he said.

"Why, because I don't sound like a guest artist from an Errol Flynn film? We're not all pirates or farmers, you know." She glanced up with a teasing smile. "Some of us get to leave and explore the big, wide world."

"Aye, some even get to explore other galaxies."

She laughed at that. "True, but it's not like I can put 'first Cornishwoman in Pegasus' on my CV, is it?"

He gazed down at her. "Maybe not, but I'm glad you're here, all the same."

"Yeah, same," she mumbled, blushing slightly and looking away. Carson smiled to himself. He found the blush rather endearing – it was a complete contrast to her usual pulled-together persona, something she only seemed to do around him.

They were near the end of the pier now, the sky a brilliant blue and the sea almost flat calm, the gentlest of splashes drifting up as the ripples hit the sides of the pier several levels below them.

"Shall we eat?" he asked, sensing a change of subject was needed.

She nodded, removing her hand from his arm. "Sounds good. I'm starving."

Carson rummaged in the rucksack, bringing out a woollen blanket. He grinned as he caught her eye. "I know it's a cliché, a Scot with a tartan blanket."

She grinned back. "I think we had one just like it when I was a kid. Family heirloom?"

Of course she couldn't know that everything he now owned was either a gift or he had bought himself. Everything belonging to his original had been returned to Earth.

"No, not really, just something I picked up when I last went to Scotland. Daft, really."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it," she replied softly, regret in her eyes, as if she'd realised the mention of family might be a mistake.

"Och, don't worry about it. I daresay you've not dated a clone before," he teased.

"Hmm, let me think…no, funnily enough, I haven't." She matched his light tone.

He turned back to Tamsin. "I've more or less accepted what I am. Tam, love, I don't want you to feel like you can't say what's on your mind around me. I promise I won't be offended."

She gave him a long look, then nodded. "Ok, I think I can do that."

He grinned as her stomach rumbled. "I think we'd better eat."

A while later they lounged on the blanket, the remains of their picnic tidied away into the rucksack, a few crumbs the only evidence. Carson glanced across at Tamsin who lay back on her elbows, eyes closed against the sun. She'd shed the leather jacket shortly after they'd sat down declaring she was overheating. Not that he would have dissuaded her from the action. This was first time he'd seen her in anything other than long sleeves and the thin-strapped top she now wore revealed rather a lot more. He allowed his eyes to travel from her face, down her neck and across her shoulders. The angle she leant at emphasised her collar bones and he briefly wondered if she was eating enough. She'd seemed a little tired when they'd met, but he'd put that down to the late night – Ladies' Poker night was legendary among the personnel, new and old. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her.

The scattering of freckles across her arms and back was unexpected and he couldn't help wondering if the rest of her body was the same. Just thinking about that caused him to shift a little. She moved to sit up, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. The movement made the hem of her jeans ride up slightly, revealing the edge of a tattoo on her left ankle.

"Yes, it's real." She rested her head on her knees, grinning at him. "Want to see?"

"Um…" he gulped. It wasn't everyday an attractive woman offered to show him her tattoo. "Okay?"

She hoiked up the denim, revealing the rest of the design and a rather shapely ankle.

Trying to focus on the tattoo itself, he could see it was a deceptively simple design of a vine that wove from the top of her foot, around her ankle, ending just before the sole. It rather put him in mind of the Mehndi patterns he'd seen on Indian ladies.

"Um, lovely. Does it mean anything?"

"Well the vine is supposed to symbolise longevity and perseverance, amongst other things, and the position is supposed to keep you grounded and connected to the Earth." She gave a snort, shaking her head. "Daft really, but I thought it was pretty."

He wasn't a particular fan of body art, he'd seen more than his fair share of course, from the tacky to the downright awful. Some of those he'd seen on military personnel in the beginning had caused him to blush. As it went, Tamsin's was fairly tasteful, and somehow it seemed so right that she would have one. He found himself wondering if this was just the tip of the iceberg.

"I don't have any piercings apart from my ears, if you're wondering." God, she'd read his mind again.

Rather than reply, he found a bottle of water, taking a sip in an attempt to buy time.

"I do have another tattoo." His eyes snapped back at her husky tone. She'd rolled onto her side, her head propped on one hand. "But you'd have to get to know me a lot better before I show you that one."

He broke into a coughing fit as a gulp of the half-forgotten water stuck in his throat. Tamsin immediately jumped up, grabbing the water bottle with one hand and steadying him with the other. It took him a few moments to get his breath back, chest heaving with the effort. When the coughing subsided, she wordlessly handed him the water.

"Thanks, love." He gave her a weak smile.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you choke. I'm not very good at the seductive thing."

He gave a low chuckle.

"I wouldn't say that. It was working for me."

"Really?"

"Aye." He shifted closer, one hand sliding to her lower back, the other tangling in her hair. He brushed his lips against hers and kissed her deeply. When they pulled apart, it wasn't a coughing fit that left him breathless. She smiled and pulled him back.

"Infirmary to Dr Lucas."

"Shit." She jumped back, fumbling in her pocket for her radio earpiece.

"Dr Lucas. It's an emergency." The radio chirped again.

She hooked the earpiece on, tapping it as she settled it over her ear. "Lucas. What's the problem?"

Carson realised his own radio was also chirping.

"Carson, are you there?" Jennifer's voice, sounding urgent.

"Aye, I'm here. What's going on?"

"Thank god. There's been an attack off-world. Details are sketchy, but we've got multiple casualties coming in. I need you standing by."

"Understood. I'll be about twenty minutes, I'm not in the main city."

"Ok, sooner if you can. Dr Lucas is some distance away as well, apparently. Keller out."

While he'd been talking, Tamsin had finished her conversation and was now grabbing the picnic blanket and stuffing it back into the rucksack. She glanced up at him, that professional mask back in place.

"Duty calls," she said.

"That it does," he replied.

SGA

By the time they reached the infirmary, both out of breath from the run back to the transporter, the first casualties were arriving. To the uninitiated, it would look like chaos – medics hurrying, patients in varying degrees of pain, machines beeping and wailing. But for Tamsin and Carson, this was a carefully choreographed routine.

Jennifer hurried up to them. "Great, you're both here. Where were you guys, anyway?"

Carson glanced over to Tamsin, briefly meeting her eye.

"Never mind, tell me later. Amanda's running triage. We've got three criticals coming in, I need you both to scrub in and get to an OR."

"Doctor Keller!" A nurse called from the back of the infirmary.

"Sorry, I gotta go, Colonel Lorne's one of the criticals."

Jennifer hurried off towards the surgical suite, quick on her feet, despite being heavily pregnant. They followed in her wake – neither running, but adopting the swift stride of doctors everywhere.

"I thought Jennifer was on maternity leave?" Tamsin asked.

"Leave's a relative term around here."

"I can imagine." She gave a rueful smile as they reached the area designated for surgery all those years ago.

Grabbing a set of scrubs from a pile on the shelf, Carson passed them to Tamsin, before selecting a larger set for himself.

"See you on the other side, then."

With a quick smile and a nod, she turned off to a changing area.

Right, time to save some lives, he told himself.

SGA

Tamsin stepped into theatre, accepting gloves, gown and glasses from the scrub nurse. Her eyes swept over the monitors, taking in the readings, heart racing with the adrenaline rush of emergency surgery.

"What have we got?"

"GSW to the right thigh, no exit wounds. It's Major Teldy."

Anne, bloody hell, she thought. Still, no time for personal feelings. She peered into the wound. The worst of the blood had been cleaned away, leaving torn flesh and two entry wounds. She couldn't see any bullets, so it looked like they were deep inside Anne's thigh. A glance to the scan on one of the screens confirmed her suspicions. One bullet was lodged close to the femoral artery. This was going to be fiddly.

She worked quickly, assisted by the rest of the team. There was a hairy moment when a small blood vessel burst, but she managed to remove both bullets without further complications.

"Dr Lucas, we've got another critical patient coming in, are you free?" Another nurse, somewhere near the door.

Tamsin didn't look up, concentrating on her stitching. "Does it look like I'm free? What about Keller or Beckett?"

"They're both still in surgery," came the reply.

Tamsin paused, glancing across to Dr Mann, who was assisting.

"I can finish up here," he offered.

"Fine." Tamsin replied.

She stepped back from the table, peeling off soiled gloves and gown, before following the unlucky nurse to another theatre.

"Someone talk to me," she called, as the scrub nurse helped her into a fresh gown and gloves.

"Shrapnel to the chest, collapsed left lung, multiple lacerations," Marie said quickly.

Tamsin ran experienced eyes over the young man, taking in the bloody mess that was his torso. She'd seen some horrific injuries in her time, but this was one of the worst. She didn't immediately recognise him, but that wasn't surprising, considering the number of personnel on base.

"Christ on a bike," she muttered sotto voce. Drawing a deep breath, she barked, "Right, get me another pair of hands in here, on the double."

One of the nurses hurried out. Seconds later, she returned, followed by another doctor. Even with him in full surgical garb, Tamsin would never mistake Carson.

"What can I do?" he asked.

"Help me save his life. He's a fucking mess."

A quick glance from Carson told her all she needed to know – he'd got her back on this one. She couldn't help the warmth that spread through her at his look, and she was grateful he couldn't see her face. Breaking the connection, she turned her attention to the task in hand.

SGA

What felt like hours later, the patient was wheeled away to the ICU – whether or not he would see out the night was in the lap of the gods now. Carson stripped bloodied gloves and gown, depositing them in a handy biohazard bin. He stretched his arms above his head, wincing as stiff shoulders cracked. It must have been loud; as he caught Tamsin's sharp look.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just not as young as I used to be." He grinned, forgetting for a moment that he still wore a mask.

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in them and the subtle creases at the corners told him she was smiling underneath her own mask. For a moment he wondered when he'd learned to read her that well, but maybe it was because she was willing to let him see – had let down the metaphorical mask she usually wore. Either way, there was a feeling of something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"You should get some rest."

"Aye, well, I've got notes to write up and there'll be obs to do."

"I'll do the notes and that's why we have a team. You're not even on duty tonight," she replied.

He knew she was right, but it was always hard to relinquish control.

"Please, Carson. I don't want you collapsing on me."

Her soft tone took him by surprise, and he found his protests falling away. With a jolt, he realised he would do anything for this woman and that scared him almost as much as anything the Pegasus galaxy had thrown at him so far.

"Alright, I'll find a corner and grab a nap. You'll wake me if you need me?"

"Of course, now shoo!"

He left the room, pausing to gently squeeze her shoulder in thanks. The look she gave him in return very nearly stopped him in his tracks, but he kept walking. That had been far more than friendly concern from Tamsin. This was definitely getting complicated.

SGA

Some time later, Tamsin made her way through the darkened infirmary. The organised chaos of earlier had dissipated - those admitted for observation now resting, the walking wounded discharged to quarters with strict instructions to rest. Even Jennifer had finally admitted defeat and returned to her own suite, "for the baby's sake". Tamsin nodded to a few nurses, not stopping to chat.

She reached the back of the infirmary, where she had persuaded Carson to rest a few hours ago. She had been surprised at his lack of protest – he had a reputation for being difficult when it came to taking a break for himself. Perhaps it was a testament to their friendship, that he trusted her enough to take the reins for a time.

To her relief, he was still asleep, curled on his left side. The blanket was tangled around his waist, as if he'd been restless. A brief pang of sadness went through her at the thought. She crossed to him, straightening the blanket and pulling it over his shoulders. She rested her hand on his shoulder, a brief flash as she remembered what it felt like to snuggle into that comforting warmth. She found herself wanting to share the bed with him, perhaps even to feel his reassuring strength around her each morning. She pulled her hand away suddenly, as if burned – those were dangerous thoughts. She couldn't, wouldn't, let herself go down that road again. With a last, brief look at Carson, she told herself it was professional concern, nothing else. Grateful that the other three beds in the bay were mercifully unoccupied, she squared her shoulders and quickly left the area.

She needed to check on the young man from earlier. Approaching the ICU room he now occupied, she wasn't surprised to find guards posted outside the room, but the fact that they were armed and accompanied by a grim-looking Colonel Sheppard pulled her up short.

"Colonel, what are you doing here?" She kept her voice even, not sure of his intentions.

"When's he gonna wake up?"

Straight down to business then, she thought.

"He's suffered severe trauma and been through major surgery. He may not wake up at all, despite our best efforts."

"He'd better wake up. I want some answers," Sheppard growled.

"Excuse me? Is there something I should know?"

Even several hours later, the details of the attack hadn't filtered through to the infirmary. Tamsin suspected the command staff were keeping things under wraps.

"He's a spy. A Genii mole."

"Thanks for telling me. Not that he was any trouble." She couldn't keep the sarcastic edge from filtering through.

Sheppard shot her a filthy look. "Need to know."

"Need to know", yep, I know all about that, she thought.

"Whoever he is, he's not going to be answering anyone's questions for a while," she continued.

"I've got four men coming home in fucking body bags, two critically injured and another three walking wounded. He knows what happened." Sheppard was practically snarling now.

Her own voice dropped. "You think I don't know that? I'm well aware of the cost today, but I know how these things work. He comes round, gets interrogated, oh no, he doesn't make it. Nobody goes near him until I say so."

She drew herself up to full height, arms crossed, jaw set. She knew she was treading a dangerous path, but she at least had knowledge and experience to back it up. Even so, she was scared. She was glad they were supposed to be on the same side.

"Do I need to get Keller or Woolsey down here?"

"Are you pulling rank on me, Colonel? May I remind you that Dr Keller is officially on maternity leave and, as qualified as Mr Woolsey is, I don't believe he currently holds a medical degree. With respect, I'm the one in charge here."

Sheppard glared at her. He looked on the verge of calling security and having her thrown in the brig. Maybe she'd gone too far this time.

"I want to know the second he comes round."

"Understood."

With a last glare through the window, Sheppard stalked away, barely acknowledging her. Glancing at the guards, she entered the room. They had witnessed the whole thing, and despite their stoic expressions, she wouldn't be surprised if the showdown was all over the rumour mill before lunchtime.

She approached the bed, glancing at the monitors and checking IVs. He seemed to be holding on, for now, at least. She looked down at him, feelings conflicted. She could understand Sheppard's anger, even shared it to a degree, but this was still a seriously ill patient, whatever he was supposed to have done. She could only hope that if and when the man was able to answer questions, that some degree of the Geneva Convention still applied out here. Otherwise, he might have been better off not making it back.

SGA

Three days later, Carson found himself hovering at the back of one of the balconies near the main tower. Tamsin leant over the railing, shoulders tight, head turned towards the ocean. He couldn't see her face, but he could imagine the scowl. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He could really do without this right now.

"Tamsin.."

She tensed, but otherwise seemed not to acknowledge his presence.

"Did Sheppard send you after me?" He flinched at the bitterness in her tone.

"No, love, I'm here as a friend."

"Don't need a friend."

"Aye, you do."

Tamsin spun on her heel, glaring at him.

"What I need is to kick something, hard and repeatedly. Probably you, if you don't leave me alone," she snapped.

"We're off to the gym, then?" Carson kept his tone even.

"I'm going to the gym, you can please yourself."

Eyes flashing, she turned and stalked off in the direction of her quarters. Carson sighed, he was dog-tired and really all he wanted was to crawl into bed and sleep, but he knew Tamsin was cut up about the events of the last few days. They all were.

Twenty minutes later, he found Tamsin in the gym, wrapping her hands ready for a workout. She crossed to the punchbag in the corner, throwing a few warm up jabs at it. He took a seat at the side of the gym. As she started to settle into a routine, he let his attention wander. Despite his own anger and frustration, his eyes were drawn inevitably to her body as she kicked and threw punches at the bag.

Though she wasn't a hardened fighter like the female soldiers on base, she moved with confidence that suggested long years of practise and dedication. She would clearly be able to handle herself if needed. The questions he had about her past were still stacking up, but he was beginning to form a theory. With a jolt, he realised Tamsin had abandoned the punchbag and was heading towards him. She was breathing heavily and a fine sheen of sweat covered her exposed skin, causing him to stifle a groan at the sight. He fervently hoped she hadn't noticed his ogling.

"Feeling better?" he managed to say.

"Not really, just need some water." The edge in her voice immediately killed the lust dead. She reached for the bottle next to her bag. Unscrewing the top, she took a long drink. The image of her lips wrapped around a certain part of his anatomy jumped unbidden into Carson's mind and the lust sprung back to life. He stood up, needing to put some distance between them.

"You okay?" she asked, eyeing him.

"Fine, fine. Just a wee bit stiff." Did I really just say that? he thought, mentally kicking himself. Carson took a few steps to give the impression he'd simply been sitting too long.

She was still watching him. "Ok. I'm going to carry on for a while; I'm still wound up after today."

She turned back to the punchbag, threw a knowing glance over her shoulder, and let her hips sway just a little more than normal as she sauntered back. He felt his pulse race as he realised she'd sussed him out – was she just teasing, or did it mean something more?

Don't be daft, not the time or the place, he told himself firmly. He tried to pretend that it was a natural male response; that it was all down to pheromones, but as he watched her attacking the punchbag once again, he knew there was something beyond mere biology between them.

"I should have been in that meeting."

Tamsin's statement broke through his thoughts. Looking up he saw her returning to the bench. She sat down, taking up the water bottle again. Finishing the drink, she rested it against her forehead for a few moments, then put it down and began releasing her hands from the protective wraps.

"Feeling any better?" Carson found his voice again, echoing his earlier question.

"Well, I don't want to kick anything anymore, if that's what you mean." She gave a bitter laugh.

Thinking he was probably safe for now, Carson sat down near his friend.

"That's a start, at least. Do you want to talk?"

"No, but you'll drag it out of me anyway, so let's save the fight." She leant forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped in front of her.

"I should have been in that meeting. There was no way he was ready to be released."

"Ladon Radim showed up, wanting the man back. We didn't exactly have a choice."

"Bollocks, Carson, there's always a choice. You've kept people here before."

"This one turned out to be wanted by his own government, not to mention his involvement in the attack."

She snorted. "Now you sound like Sheppard. You know he won't get a trial or fair treatment. Handing him back condemns him to a slow and probably painful death."

Carson sighed. He did know what Tamsin was describing was more than likely. When Ladon Radim had contacted Atlantis, demanding they release the Genii they were holding prisoner, Sheppard and Mr Woolsey really hadn't had the option not to hand him back. Despite Carson's protests that the man simply wasn't fit to travel, Radim had offered assurances that he would be cared for by their own doctors. Carson hadn't been convinced by the statement, either. He was glad Tamsin hadn't been in the meeting as her reaction at the news had been a stream of filthy-sounding curses in at least three languages and a swift exit to the balcony 'for some air'.

"This has really got to you, hasn't it? Why him?"

She gave him a long look, as if she was deciding what to tell him. "I've been in similar situations in the past. It just brings back things I'd rather forget."

Carson raised an eyebrow. Another answer that said everything and nothing; his theory was starting to come together.

Tamsin sighed and leant back against the wall.

"I'm not really sure why I'm here, Carson."

"42," he murmured. Her irreverent sense of humour was starting to rub off on him.

"What?" Tamsin's head snapped upright as she shot him a perplexed look.

"The answer to the ultimate question."

She looked down at the floor and shook her head with a smirk.

"You'll be telling me not to forget my towel next. I meant here, Atlantis. Not existentially speaking."

"Aye, I know. But I made you smile," he said softly, risking a look at her.

"Yeah, you did," she replied equally softly, meeting his gaze. Unconsciously, they had moved closer together and were now just inches apart. Another man might have attempted to kiss her, but Carson knew he couldn't take advantage, however much he might want to. She was beginning to open up to him and he refused to break that fragile trust for one brief moment of lust. He looked away first, needing to keep control. She laid her head against the wall, closing her eyes, as if it was too much to keep them open.

"What were you going to say?" He asked gently.

"You really want to know?"

"I really want to know."

"I was wondering what I'm doing here, why I joined the SGC. I used to be the one in charge. Now I'm just a grunt, for god's sake. I'm just filling a quota here, aren't I?"

"You could never be just a grunt, Tam."

"Thanks. But I'm finding it hard to let go of being a big fish in a small pond."

"I know how that feels."

"I guess you would."

"Where was your small pond?"

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it now."

She stood, stretching as she did. Carson studiously tried not to notice as her top rode up, exposing a sliver of pale flesh. She offered him a hand up, which he willingly took.

"Walk me back?" She asked, catching his eye again.

"Of course," he grinned.

Neither of them felt the need to speak on the walk to Tamsin's quarters. As they reached her door, they stopped, facing each other as close as they had been in the gym. She briefly touched Carson's hand, then pressed a delicate kiss against his cheek.

"Thanks… I… just thanks."

She turned, waving her hand in front of the entry panel. As the door slid shut, Carson whispered his reply. "You're welcome, love."

Sighing, he set off back in the direction of his own room. He was even more exhausted from the rollercoaster of emotions inside him, but he knew a cold shower was his first priority when he made it home.