Chapter Text
Carson stared at it in fascination and revulsion. He had seen some bloody peculiar things in his time, but this had to be one of the strangest he had ever come across.
The house was festooned with hundreds of red and white Christmas lights that had to be blinding when lit up at night. On the front lawn there was a nativity scene, complete with wise men, shepherds, and even a donkey. Santa and his reindeer were perched precariously on the roof. Rodney took one look at the place and said, "My God, I've gone from Siberia to Scarberia. My personal hell is complete."
Carson looked away from the window. He couldn't be sure about Siberia, but he could think of parts of Glasgow that were closer to hell than Scarborough. Other than the Christmas house of horrors, the number of strip malls and hydro fields seemed to be the only real gripe Rodney had with the place. The surplus of donut shops hadn't bothered him in the least. He had already stopped at Tim Horton's to buy two boxes of Timbits.
"If you hate Scarborough so much why are we here?" Carson asked.
Rodney's cheeks flushed, and the knuckles around the stirring wheel turned white. "I need to check on something."
Carson turned his attention back to the window. "Okay, Rodney."
It was wonderful to feel the sun on his face. After their noisy cramped flights, Carson was desperately craving fresh air. Ignoring Rodney's protests, he had opened his window, allowing some of that air to penetrate the interior of the rental car. Although it was March, and there were still clumps of snow on the yellow lawns, it was an unseasonably warm day.
When Rodney turned on to Hellas Drive, Carson's eyes flicked to his face, but, for once, it wasn't giving anything away. Rodney pulled up to a curb. When the car stopped, Carson unbuckled his seat belt and reached for the door.
"What are you doing?" Rodney demanded. There was a sharp edge to his voice and his eyes had widened. It was a look Carson had become all too familiar with over the past two weeks.
"I'm getting out of the car," Carson said. "As we've stopped, I'm assuming we're here. Wherever that is."
Rodney nodded quickly. "Yeah, we're here, but we're not getting out." His fingers tapped a nervous rhythm on the dashboard. "Look, I...I just want to sit here for a few minutes. Then we can go."
Carson raised an eyebrow. "Rodney, where are we and what are we doing here?" he asked, but he wasn't sure if Rodney even heard the question. The man was staring intently at the house across the street. Carson sighed and closed his eyes. If all they were going to do was sit in the car, he'd squeeze in a quick nap.
Carson was just drifting off, when Rodney started shaking his shoulder. Carson opened his eyes and almost laughed when he saw Rodney duck. He craned his neck and spotted a blond woman walking down her driveway to a beige Honda that had definitely seen better days.
"Get down," Rodney hissed, from where he was scrunched down in his seat. Then, when he saw that Carson hadn't moved, he placed a hand on top of his friend's head and pushed him down.
"I don't think she can see us, Rodney, or, at least, she couldn't before you made that subtle attempt to hide," Carson said.
"Oh, God, really?" Rodney's head popped back up again and he peered anxiously out the window. The Honda was pulling out of the driveway and heading up the street.
"Who is she?" Carson asked when he was sure it was safe to talk again.
Rodney pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is stupid," he said. "I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry for dragging you out here." Rodney turned the key in the ignition, and Carson blinked at him in surprise. It wasn't often that he heard Rodney McKay admit to being wrong, let alone apologize. Whoever this woman was she had shaken him up badly.
As they drove the way they had come, Carson decided to test his own suspicions about the woman's identity. "Is it your sister?"
Rodney's head whirled around. "What?"
Carson hit his arm frantically. "Rodney, the road!" he shouted. The Sebring swerved, narrowly missing a kid on a bike. When his heart started beating again, Carson glared at his friend. "Rodney."
"Yes, yes, it was my sister, all right?" Rodney snapped.
"This may sound like a daft question, but why didn't you get out of the car and talk to her?" Carson asked.
Rodney's lips compressed into a thin line. "She doesn't want anything to do with me."
Carson frowned. "I realize you two aren't close..."
"I wrote her three times, Carson," Rodney said, holding up three fingers in case he wasn't making himself clear. "Three times. She never wrote back. Not once."
"Then why are you here?" Carson asked.
Rodney's lips twisted into something resembling a smile. "She's my sister. I wanted to see her."
"Spying on her from a car isn't seeing her, Rodney," Carson said. "You should go back and talk to her."
They reached a stop sign, and Rodney stepped on the brakes with more force than was necessary. "I told you already, she doesn't want anything to do with me."
"You should hear her side of the story," Carson said.
Rodney snorted. "Yeah, because knowing the exact reason why she shunned me is going to make me feel so much better!"
Carson sighed. "Rodney, you need your family right now. Given your condition--"
"I don't want to talk about it," Rodney said.
"But--"
Rodney waved his hand dismissively. "I just want to get back to the motel. We can figure out what the hell we're going to do later."
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Carson woke to the sound of retching in the bathroom. He threw back his covers and tumbled out of bed. He found Rodney hunched over the toilet, looking pale, shaky, and completely miserable. Rodney didn't say anything. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice that Carson was there until the other man grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. Once Rodney was leaning against the sink, he turned on the tap and splashed some water on his face. Carson handed him a plastic cup, and Rodney rinsed out his mouth.
"Are you okay?" Carson asked.
Rodney glared at him. "You're kidding, right?" Shaking his head, he trudged out of the bathroom and collapsed across his bed.
Carson fished inside his backpack and pulled out a box of crackers. Rodney lifted his head when Carson shook the box then groaned and fell back against his pillows.
"You'll feel better if you eat something," Carson said.
Rodney grimaced. "No, if I eat something, I'll throw up again."
"The crackers will help counteract the nausea," Carson said. He stood at the side of the bed and tried to hand Rodney the crackers, but Rodney curled up on his side and ignored him. Deciding not to press the issue, Carson left the crackers beside the bottle of apple juice on the bedside table. Then he freed the sheets that were tangled beneath Rodney's legs and draped them over his friend's shoulders. Rodney's eyes remained closed, but he pulled the sheets higher. Carson patted Rodney's back gently and returned to his own bed.
Laying still and silent, Carson waited for Rodney to fall asleep. When Rodney's breathing deepened, Carson sat up cautiously and peered across at the other bed. Rodney's eyes were still closed and his mouth was slack. Carson pulled back his sheets and tiptoed across the room to get dressed. Once that task was complete, he scribbled a note on a sheet of Dominion Motel stationary and left it on the bedside table. Then he walked over to the pair of trousers Rodney had tossed over a chair. With a nervous glance at his friend, Carson reached into one of the pockets and pulled out the keys to the Sebring.
Although his conscience was screaming at him, Carson believed he was doing the right thing. He just hoped Rodney would see it that way.
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Carson didn't notice how late it was until he happened to glance at the Sebring's clock. He had hoped to catch Rodney's sister before she left for work, but as it was 8:47 a.m. he was sure he had already missed her. He was debating whether he should turn back and try again later when he found himself turning on to Hellas Drive. At first, Carson couldn't remember which number Rodney's sister lived at, but then he spotted the beige Honda and knew he had found the right house.
Carson hadn't considered the possibility that Rodney's sister might work nights or have the day off. He wondered if he should disturb her. Then he remembered Rodney curled up pathetically in his bed and got out of the car. He was knocking on the door before he realized that he had no idea what he was going to say.
The door swung open, and Carson came face to face with the woman he had only caught a glimpse of the day before. Her dirty blond hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and she was wearing a faded t-shirt and jeans. Carson thought she was beautiful. He gaped at her with an open mouth until she snapped, "What?"
Carson gulped. "Uh, I'm a friend of Rodney's."
Her eyes narrowed. "A friend of Rodney's? Rodney?"
For a second, Carson wondered if he was at the right house. "You know. Rodney. Your brother."
The woman lifted her chin, and Carson knew he hadn't been mistaken. "Yes, I know who Rodney is," she said. "I've just never heard anyone admit to being his friend before. I didn't think he had any."
Carson might have laughed, but he wasn't sure if she was joking. Rodney's sister must have seen something she didn't like in Carson's expression because her eyes widened and she had the same look Rodney had whenever he was about to fly into a panic.
"Oh, Jesus," she said. "Is Rodney dead?" She brought a trembling hand to her lips, and Carson began to wish he had stayed at the motel.
Using his most gentle and patient voice, Carson attempted to soothe the woman. "Rodney isn't dead. He's far from it. I promise."
Rodney's sister lowered her hand, though it still shook slightly. "What happened then? Why are you here?"
Carson sighed. "Miss, uh...Ms. McKay..."
Rodney's sister rolled her eyes. "Jeannie," she said.
Carson gave a quick jerk of his head. "Jeannie. Right. Uh, perhaps we could continue this discussion inside."
Jeannie lifted her chin higher this time. "Yeah, I don't think so. I haven't cleaned in three weeks. I'm not letting anyone in, especially a total stranger."
"I'm sorry," Carson said. "I didn't mean to be presumptuous."
Jeannie snorted. "Presumptuous? Yeah, okay." She snapped her fingers. "My brother. What's going on?"
"Ah...well..." Carson bit his lip.
Jeannie snapped her fingers again.
"He, uh...He has a medical condition," Carson said.
Jeannie's mouth fell open. "A medical condition? What kind of medical condition?"
Carson almost smiled in relief. Now he was in his element. "Besides being Rodney's friend, I'm his doctor, so I'm not allowed to divulge that information," he said. "It will be up to Rodney to decide what to tell you."
Jeannie's mouth fell open even further. "Rodney's here?" She scanned her surroundings quickly, as if expecting Rodney to pop out of some bushes.
"He's back at the motel," Carson said. "He wasn't feeling well."
Jeannie frowned. "Rodney's sick?"
"Aye, you could say that." To Carson, it seemed like the most convenient explanation.
"Give me two minutes," Jeannie said. She turned and stepped back inside the house, nearly slamming the door in Carson's face. When she came back out again, she was wearing a jacket and her hair was out of its ponytail. "As you know where you're going, you can drive."
As Carson was afraid of her wreck of a car, he simply nodded and led the way to the Sebring. However, Jeannie hesitated before getting inside the car.
"Is something the matter?" Carson asked.
"Who the hell are you?" Jeannie said. "I mean, do you have a name, or do you always introduce yourself as 'Rodney's friend'?"
Carson walked around to the passenger side of the car and extended his hand. "Carson. Carson Beckett."
Jeannie studied the hand for a moment then shook it. Carson opened the car door for her and couldn't help smiling when she blushed and muttered, "Thanks."
Jeannie was silent as Carson started up the car and drove up the street. When she still hadn't spoken two minutes later, Carson glanced at her curiously. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap and she was biting her lower lip.
"I could turn on the radio," Carson suggested.
Jeannie started and stared at him for a moment. "What? No, no, it's okay," she said. Then she leaned forward and turned on the radio. After cycling through all the FM and AM stations twice, she gave a weary sigh and shut it off. She sank back in her seat and gazed out the window. "So Rodney sent you to find me."
"Uh, not exactly," Carson said.
Jeannie turned towards him. "Not exactly?"
Carson took a deep breath. "Rodney doesn't exactly know I'm here."
Jeannie jerked upright in her seat. "Stop the car."
"What?" Carson said.
"Stop the damn car!" Jeannie shouted.
Carson hit the breaks, and Jeannie winced as the mini-van behind them almost ploughed into their rear fender. The other driver honked his horn loudly and yelled a few choice words at Carson and Jeannie as the mini-van swept past them.
"Yeah, okay," Jeannie said. "Next time I tell you to 'Stop the damn car,' you're allowed to park it first."
Carson nodded tensely. "Aye, all right." He placed his foot back on the accelerator and drove the car into a plaza with a post office, dry cleaners, donut shop and adult video store.
"What do you think you're doing?" Jeannie demanded as soon as the car drew into a parking spot. "I mean, do you have any idea how stupid this is?"
Carson nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I do. I have a bloody good idea, actually, but Rodney wanted to see you, so here I am."
Jeannie gazed sullenly out the window. "If he really wanted to see me, he would have sent you."
"Rodney wants to see you. We drove to your house yesterday, but he was afraid to talk to you." Carson sighed and rubbed his face wearily. "He thinks you want nothing to do with him."
Jeannie stared at Carson blankly. Her mouth opened once, then twice, but no words came out.
"He said he wrote you three times and you never answered any of his letters," Carson said. He watched Jeannie's features as confusion shifted to comprehension. Then she was thumping her head against the headrest.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she moaned.
Resisting the urge to pat Jeannie's shoulder sympathetically, Carson said, "Would you like to talk about it?"
"No. Good God, no." Jeannie placed a hand across her face, and Carson waited. "I thought he was just being polite!" Jeannie said. "I thought he wrote those letters because...because he felt obligated."
Carson laughed. "Obligated? Rodney?"
Jeannie glared at him. "Well, it's not as if he was ever that interested in me. I'm not a genius. I struggled through high school and dropped out of college. I'm nothing like him."
This time, Carson did reach out to touch Jeannie's shoulder. "You're his sister. None of that matters, luv."
"Yeah? In what universe?" Jeannie asked. She shrunk away from Carson's hand, and her eyes focused on the window again. Carson was debating whether he should offer to drive her back home, when she spoke again. "The last few years haven't been great. In fact, they've pretty much sucked. Except for Andrew. He's my son."
Carson's eyes widened. Rodney had never mentioned having a nephew. "How old is your wee boy?"
"Well, I don't know if 'wee' is an accurate description." Jeannie smiled. "He's eight and he's growing like a weed. I had to buy him a new pair of shoes last week because he outgrew the pair I got him in September. I'm just hoping he can make it through the hockey season before he needs new skates."
"Your son plays hockey?" Carson was surprised. He didn't think anyone related to Rodney would possess athletic abilities.
As if sensing his thoughts, Jeannie said, "Andrew takes after his father, unfortunately."
Carson raised an eyebrow. "Unfortunately?"
"Yeah, I don't want my kid turning into a self-centered two-timing bastard," Jeannie said.
Ouch. Realizing that he was treading on dangerous ground, Carson immediately changed the subject. "Rodney will probably be up soon, if he isn't awake already. Uh, shall we make our way to the motel?"
Jeannie shook herself from her bitter thoughts. "Sure, that would be a plan. Where are you guys staying, anyway?"
"It's a place just outside of Scarber-Scarborough," Carson said. "The Dominion Motel."
Jeannie's head swivelled sharply. "You're kidding."
"No," Carson said. "Why? Have you heard of it?"
Jeannie grinned. "Oh, yes, I've heard of it. I think most of Toronto has heard of it."
Carson wasn't sure he liked her tone. "What do you mean?" he asked.
"I'm guessing you haven't watched the news lately," Jeannie said.
Carson shook his head. "No, we only got here yesterday. Why? What happened?"
"Oh, nothing much," Jeannie said. "Just a major drug bust at the Dominion Motel."
Carson stared at her in disbelief. "A major drug bust?"
Jeannie laughed. "Yeah, we have drugs in Canada too, eh?"
"Oh," Carson muttered absently, "of course." He frowned. "I wondered why the place was so quiet. Rodney said it was the off-season."
"Or it could be the major drug bust," Jeannie said. "Eight kilos of cocaine and six kilos of heroin." She rolled her eyes. "You guys can't stay there."
"Aye, I guess you're right," Carson said. "I don't suppose you have any suggestions."
Jeannie tilted her head and studied him thoughtfully. "Oh, I think I can come up with something."
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Carson had hoped that Rodney would still be sleeping when he returned to the motel, but instead of snores he was greeted by the sound of vomiting in the bathroom. His eyes darted to the bedside table to see if Rodney had made any effort to eat the crackers, which is when he spotted the open box of Timbits on Rodney's bed.
"Bloody fool," Carson grumbled. Then he glanced quickly at Jeannie. She stood watching the bathroom door with a mixture of fear and horror.
Carson squeezed her shoulder. "It's not as bad as it sounds."
Jeannie turned towards Carson slowly and stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind.
"Uh, I'll just go check on him," Carson said. He moved to the bathroom door, not bothering to knock before barging in on his patient.
Rodney was sitting on the bathroom floor, clutching the toilet bowl with both hands. He was pale and sweaty, though he no longer appeared to be throwing up his breakfast. He glared at Carson briefly before focusing on the toilet bowl.
"You only have yourself to blame," Carson said. "If you hadn't eaten those wee donuts--"
Rodney's eyes whipped back to Carson. "You left me! You-you abandoned me! I had to eat something! The Timbits were the only food source!"
Carson crossed his arms. "And what was wrong with the crackers I specifically left out for you?"
Rodney snorted. "Like crackers really count. If you'd had your way, I would have starved to death."
"Oh, for God's sake, Rodney, I wasn't even gone an hour!" Carson said.
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?" Rodney shouted. "All your note said -- and thank you for not telling me in person -- was that you'd be back 'soon'. Soon. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are we talking an hour, a day, a week, a month, a year? I don't know! You might as well have written: 'I'm going for a walk now. I could be gone for some time.'"
Carson sighed heavily. "Now you're just being melodramatic."
Rodney's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "I'm being melodramatic?" he said. "I'm not the one who snuck off in the early hours of the morning! I'm not the one who pulled a disappearing act!"
Carson was sure that Rodney would have started gesturing wildly with both hands if he hadn't been clutching the toilet. His pale face had flushed red, and it looked like he was about to launch into another tirade, when his jaw dropped and his anger was replaced by shock. "Jeannie?" he said.
Jeannie was hovering just outside the bathroom. She smiled nervously and waved. "Hi, Rodney."
"Hi." Rodney still looked stunned. "Uh, how are you?"
Jeannie swallowed and Carson could see that she was on the verge of tears. He reached for her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. Then Jeannie slid down to the floor and wrapped her arms around her brother. Rodney's eyes widened in surprise, before he released his grip on the toilet and hugged Jeannie back. Neither sibling realized that Carson had left until they heard the quiet click of the bathroom door closing.
"Why didn't you write back?" Rodney asked.
Jeannie tensed and began to pull away, but Rodney just held her more tightly. "Why, Jeannie?"
Jeannie's voice was muffled against Rodney's shoulder. "I didn't think you were really that interested," she said.
Rodney frowned in confusion. "Of course I was interested. Why would I have written to you if I wasn't interested?"
Jeannie sighed. "You're a physicist, a-a god-damn genius."
"Yes, this is true," Rodney said, "but I don't see what that has to do with..." His expression clouded. "What? You didn't think we'd have anything to talk about? Is that it?" He shook his head. "Jeannie, I wasn't looking for an in-depth discussion on the grand unified theory. I was just trying to reach out. I know we grew up in a dysfunctional family, but you must have come across the concept in Hallmark cards and AT&T commercials." Rodney took Jeannie by the shoulders and studied her face. "What's the real reason?" he asked.
Jeannie took a deep breath. "I screwed up my life."
"How?" Rodney asked. "How did you screw up your life?"
"Well, for one thing, Chris and I got divorced," Jeannie said.
Rodney rolled his eyes. "Like no one saw that coming," he said. Jeannie hit his arm. "Oww! What?"
Jeannie smacked him again. "I knew you'd say something like that!"
Rodney jerked back, attempting to protect his beleaguered limb. "Well, I'm sorry, but I told you he was a jerk from the very beginning. As far as I'm concerned, divorcing Chris was a step in the right direction."
"The right direction?" Jeannie laughed. "I'm a single mother holding down two jobs."
"Oh," Rodney said.
Jeannie drew her knees to her chest. "Chris can't be bothered to pay alimony, and now that he and Heidi, the dental hygienist, have two kids of their own, he can't be bothered with Andrew either."
"I'm sorry," Rodney said. "I didn't know."
"I'd take him to court, but I'm up to my ears in debt." Jeannie played with a loose stitch on her jeans. "I can't even afford to buy new hockey equipment for Andrew. I have to buy it used or rely on hand-me-downs from older kids."
Rodney put his head in his hands. "Jeannie--"
"My ex-mother-in-law thinks I'm an unsuitable parent. I'm sure she'd sue for custody if she wasn't afraid the judge would take my side and force Chris to pay alimony."
Rodney tried to jump back into the conversation. "Jeannie--"
"Do you know how long it's been since I've had sex? I'm afraid to date anyone because Andrew thinks that any man I talk to has the potential to be his new--"
"Jeannie!"
Startled, Jeannie glared at her brother. "What?" she demanded. Then she noticed that Rodney's mouth was a hard thin line. She had quickly learned that this meant Rodney was angry or upset about something. Suddenly she remembered what had brought her here in the first place and felt guilty for allowing herself to get side-tracked.
Jeannie scooted closer to Rodney and began rubbing his back in gentle circles. Rodney exhaled in a sharp breath that sounded alarmingly like a sob and laid his head on Jeannie's shoulder.
"Your Scottish friend told me you had some kind of medical condition, but he refused to be any more specific than that," Jeannie said. She felt Rodney shake against her shoulder and, for one terrible second, she thought he was crying. Then she realized it was laughter, though it had a slightly hysterical quality to it. "Whatever it is you can tell me. Is it serious? Please, Rodney, I need to know."
Rodney raised his head and stared at Jeannie as if he had never seen her before. His face was flushed, and his eyes were suspiciously shiny, but a tiny smile was tugging at his lips.
"I'm pregnant," he said.
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Carson had first learned Rodney was pregnant, when Ronon literally dragged Rodney into the infirmary back on Atlantis. After hearing raised voices, Carson emerged from his office to find Rodney fighting to free himself from Ronon's iron grip. Teyla and Radek, who had accompanied the pair, seemed torn between concern and amusement.
"What's all this, then?" Carson asked.
Still struggling, Rodney said, "Conan, here, has suddenly decided that he wants to practice medicine. Now, while I admit it doesn't take a lot of brain cells to become a doctor -- a medical doctor -- I'm sure there must be at least some rudimentary training involved."
Ronon made no effort to loosen his grip. "It's for your own good, McKay."
Rodney glared at him. "For my own good? I've probably lost the use of this arm thanks to you! Please explain to me how that can possibly be for my own good!"
Ronon ignored Rodney. "He's sick," he told Carson.
Rodney opened his mouth to protest, but Teyla quickly interrupted him. "He threw up his breakfast," she said.
Radek grimaced. "He almost did not make it to balcony in time."
Rodney blushed. "I only threw up a little."
Ronon shook his head. "It was a lot. I watched."
"And he threw up yesterday," Radek said. "He denies it, but I saw him running from the lab."
"Right." Carson walked to the exam table. "Bring him over here."
"Hey!" Rodney said. "I'm perfectly capable of-Oww! Ronon! That's my arm! My very valuable arm! A limb I was quite literally attached to until you wrenched it from its socket!" Rodney's indignation went up another notch, when Radek took his other arm and helped Ronon hoist him on to the exam table. He moaned and covered his face with both hands. "This is humiliating. Utterly humiliating."
Teyla placed a comforting hand on Rodney's shoulder. "You are our friend and your well-being is very important to us."
"Well, uh..." Rodney cleared his throat. "I appreciate that, but I'm sure there's nothing wrong with me," he said. Then he faltered under Teyla's forbidding stare. "At most, it's just a stomach bug."
"How about I take a look and we find out for certain?" Carson said. He had already snapped on a pair of gloves and was reaching for a thermometer.
Rodney finally surrendered. "Fine, fine, take a look, but do you think we can lose the audience? There is such a thing as doctor-patient confidentiality."
"Yes, Rodney." Carson turned to Ronon. "I think your job here is done. I can take over from here."
Ronon bowed solemnly and started walking out of the infirmary. "Get better, McKay."
"I'm not sick!" Rodney said.
Ronon grinned, shook his head, and kept going.
Teyla's hand returned to Rodney's shoulder. "If you need anything, you have only to ask," she said.
Rodney forced a smile. "Uh, yes. Thanks, Teyla."
She nodded and followed Ronon out of the infirmary, which left only Radek. The Czech scientist pushed up his glasses and thrust out his chin, a gesture he had obviously picked up from Rodney.
"I will look after everything while you are gone," he said. "You must rest and do what Carson tells you."
Rodney almost leapt off the exam table. "I'm only going to be gone from the lab for about 20 minutes, tops. I don't need to rest and, as I've never followed Carson's advice before--"
Carson thrust the thermometer in Rodney's mouth, effectively silencing him. "Thank you for your concern, Radek. Rodney will be taking the rest of the day off. If he requires any more time than that, I'll be sure to let you know."
Radek smirked at Rodney. "Thank you, doctor," he said. Then he saw the angry look in Rodney's eyes and bolted from the infirmary. Carson chuckled quietly and removed the thermometer from Rodney's mouth.
"Why did you tell him I'm taking the rest of the day off?" Rodney demanded.
"You threw up, Rodney. There's obviously something wrong with you." Carson picked up a tongue depressor next and examined Rodney's throat.
"It's just a stupid stomach bug," Rodney said. "Why is everyone acting like I'm on my death bed?"
Carson ran his hands along Rodney's neck and felt his glands. "Maybe they're acting that way because you're not -- on your death bed, that is. Usually, we gauge your health by the level of your complaints. When you're too quiet, we know it's time to worry."
"Ha, ha," Rodney said. "I almost find that amusing." Then he jumped when Carson raised his shirt, and a cold metal stethoscope landed on his back. "God, what do you do, Carson? Keep all your instruments in a freezer?"
Carson tutted at Rodney gently. "Don't be such a baby. You're full of enough hot air to keep you warm."
"Again with the jokes," Rodney said. "I'm beginning to think you spent more time in comedy clubs than residence." He winced as the stethoscope slid to another spot on his back.
"Deep breaths," Carson said. "In and out."
Rodney lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Yes, Carson, I have actually learned how to breathe."
"Then start breathing and stop complaining," Carson said. Once he was satisfied that he'd heard everything he could from the back, he moved to the front and placed his stethoscope over Rodney's chest cavity. "Have you been experiencing any other symptoms? Dizziness? Headaches? Fatigue?" Rodney suddenly tensed and wouldn't meet Carson's eyes. "Rodney, anything you tell me will be kept in strictest confidence. You know that."
Rodney squirmed uncomfortably. "I've been feeling more tired lately and...and I've had a few headaches."
"How long have you been feeling this way?" Carson asked.
Rodney smiled nervously. "A couple of weeks."
Carson gazed at Rodney sternly. "And why am I only hearing about this now?"
Rodney threw up his hands helplessly. "I thought it was just me. The usual me. Well, the usual me during a crisis."
"Rodney, we haven't had a crisis in a long time," Carson said. "These symptoms aren't related to stress and exhaustion, unless there's something you're not telling me."
Rodney shook his head.
"Have you been experiencing nausea for the past couple of weeks too?" Carson asked.
Rodney hesitated then nodded.
Carson sighed. "Rodney, Rodney, Rodney." He stuffed his stethoscope in his lab coat pocket. "Lie down."
"Why?" Rodney asked, though he still complied.
Carson pulled up Rodney's shirt and started to palpate his stomach. "Any pain? Tenderness?"
"No," Rodney said. "Look, it's probably just a stomach bug."
"Stomach bugs don't last for two weeks." Carson removed his hand and studied his patient thoughtfully. "Colonel Sheppard left Atlantis a couple of weeks ago, which would be around the time you first began exhibiting these symptoms, is it not?"
Rodney stared up at Carson in confusion. "Are you suggesting that Sheppard poisoned me?"
"No, no, of course not," Carson said. "I just find it interesting, that's all."
"Interesting? Huh." Rodney propped himself up on one elbow. "Do you think I'm manifesting physical symptoms because I miss him?"
"Do you miss him?" Carson asked.
Rodney shrugged. "I suppose it isn't quite the same around here without him, but I don't regret that he's gone," he said. "This is an excellent opportunity, one that could lead to promotion. Besides, he'll be back in a few months." Rodney looked at Carson with pleading eyes. "That's what he said, right? It'll only be a few months?"
Carson patted his shoulder. "You're allowed to miss him, Rodney. He's your best friend. It's only natural that--"
"Yes, all right. If I had wanted to discuss my feelings, I could have gone to Heitmeyer." Rodney tried to sit up, but Carson pushed him back down on the table.
"I haven't finished my examination," Carson said.
"Oh?" Rodney asked. "Sorry. I just assumed that when you started wandering into the realm of psychology, you had run out of things to poke and prod me with and were clutching at straws."
Carson gritted his teeth and managed not to rise to the bait. "Wait here. I'll be back in a minute."
"I'll be counting the seconds until you return," Rodney said. "Literally. If it's more than 60, I'm outta here." He stretched, smiling smugly as Carson ran into his office. The smile faded when Carson returned in 28 seconds with something that looked like a cross between a computer tablet and an Etch A Sketch, only bigger. Its dimensions were approximately 30 cm by 50 cm, and it had a bronze metallic sheen. Rodney didn't like it one bit. "What the hell is that?" he asked.
Carson beamed brightly. "This is something I like to call a 'Portable Ultrasound,' though, being an Ancient device, the technology is obviously a bit more sophisticated than that."
"Obviously," Rodney muttered.
"Dr. Biro found it a few months ago," Carson said. "It's used to monitor the development of fetuses in the womb. I've found it extremely useful when examining my pregnant patients on the mainland."
Rodney grimaced in disgust. "I'm not pregnant, Carson."
"Well, I know that, you daft fool," Carson said. "It can also be used for other types of internal scans. In this case, I can use it to take a look at your stomach."
Rodney waved his hand irritably. "Yes, yes, yes. Fine. Whatever. Just get on with it."
"All right. There's no need to be snippy." Carson held out the device so Rodney could see the screen. "If you were pregnant, the portable ultrasound would allow me to monitor both you and the baby." He shoved the device under Rodney's nose. "You wouldn't believe how sharp and clear the image is, even at the earliest stages of pregnancy. It's vastly superior to the sonograms produced by conventional ultrasound machines."
"That's nice." Rodney reached out to swat the device away then thought better of it when he realized he would have to touch it.
Carson hit a button on the ultrasound and another screen appeared. "It has eliminated the need for traditional pregnancy tests, as it can detect the presence of hCG in the blood. It has even replaced such invasive procedures as amniocentesis. It's absolutely incredible."
"Yes, that's truly fascinating," Rodney said. "A triumph for medical science. If I were pregnant, I'm sure I'd be ecstatic."
Carson nodded absently, his eyes still fixed on the ultrasound. He had positioned it over Rodney's mid-section and was adjusting the settings. At first, he was so intent on examining Rodney's stomach that he didn't see it. When he did notice the uterus on the lower half of the screen, he almost dropped the ultrasound.
Rodney lifted his head in concern. "Carson?"
The ultrasound had to be displaying recorded images of the previous patient he'd examined. There could be no other explanation. He took a second look at the screen, and his jaw dropped. Just above the uterus was the vas deferens, a distinctly male anatomical feature. Carson's eyes flew back to the uterus and he discovered something even more shocking: a tiny embryo was attached to the uterine wall.
"It's impossible," Carson whispered. "It canna be."
"Okay, now I know it's serious," Rodney said. "Your Scottish brogue just got thicker." He sounded more frightened than annoyed, and Carson felt guilty for alarming his patient. The portable ultrasound was obviously malfunctioning.
It's either that, Carson thought, or I've gone completely mad. He lowered the portable ultrasound and plastered a smile on his face. "It's all right, Rodney. It's just a glitch."
"A glitch?" No longer facing imminent death, Rodney visibly relaxed. "Oh, well, so much for the wonders of medical science."
Carson gritted his teeth again. "It's just a temporary glitch, I assure you."
"If you say so," Rodney said. He sat up and slipped off the exam table.
"And where do you think you're going?" Carson asked.
Rodney pointed at the portable ultrasound. "Well, as your new toy doesn't work..."
"We'll use the MRI," Carson said. "Wonderful idea, Rodney."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Carson was watching a gardening segment on some morning show when the bathroom door opened. Jeannie's arm was around Rodney's waist and she was guiding him to his bed. Carson turned off the TV immediately.
"Is everything all right?" he asked.
Jeannie flashed him a smile, though it was a little strained. "I think Rodney needs a bit more sleep." She nudged a surprisingly quiet and complacent Rodney down on his bed. Rodney laid his head on his pillow, and Jeannie pulled the sheets up to his chin. Then, to Carson's amazement, Jeannie kissed Rodney on the forehead. "I'm just going to step out into the hall and talk to Carson, but I'll see you later, okay?"
"Okay, Jeannie," Rodney said. He closed his eyes and shifted to find a more comfortable position.
Jeannie jerked her chin at the door, and Carson realized that this was an order, not a request. Not waiting to see if Carson would follow, Jeannie walked out of the motel room. She stationed herself next to fire extinguisher and leaned against the wall. Carson stood across from her, near the door in case Rodney needed anything. But his eyes were fixed on Jeannie, who was biting her lip pensively.
"Thanks for taking care of Rodney," Jeannie said. "I can see now why you were so reluctant to discuss his...condition with me, especially considering what my reaction might be."
"Wait a minute," Carson said. "Rodney told you?"
"That he's pregnant? Yeah." Jeannie laughed quietly to herself and shook her head. "I always thought this would happen. In a way, I've been preparing for it my whole life."
Carson gaped at Jeannie in disbelief. "You thought Rodney would get pregnant?"
Jeannie barked out a laugh then quickly covered her mouth, as if fearing Rodney might hear her from inside the room. "You're horrible," she whispered, fighting back a grin. "Well, I guess a doctor with a sense of humour is a good thing in a situation like this. But, seriously, I always thought that Rodney might have a breakdown. I read somewhere that genius can be frighteningly close to insanity. In fact, I think that some geniuses have gone mad. Maybe some of them thought they were pregnant, like Rodney."
Carson's brow furrowed. Was she saying what he thought she was saying?
"Rodney can be cured, right?" Jeannie asked. "I mean, hysterical pregnancy isn't all that uncommon. They had an episode on Grey's Anatomy where this guy thought he was pregnant, though I think it turned out that he had some kind of tumour in his stomach, so it made it look like he was pregnant." Suddenly Jeannie's eyes grew wide. "Oh my God! Rodney doesn't have a tumour, does he?"
Carson massaged his temples. "No, Rodney doesn't have a tumour." He wasn't suffering from a hysterical pregnancy either. However, as Carson saw Jeannie slump against the wall in relief, he couldn't bring himself to tell her. Although she had the right to know, and Rodney had obviously trusted her with his secret, Carson wasn't sure if she was prepared to handle the truth. There was also the little matter of the information being classified, or it would have been if Rodney wasn't guarding the secret from Atlantis, the SGC, and, essentially, the entire world. Still, the truth could bring up awkward questions that neither he nor Rodney was in a position to answer. If Jeannie found it easier to believe that her brother had lost his mind then maybe it was best for everyone involved if she remained unenlightened.
"I hope you don't mind me asking this," Jeannie said, interrupting Carson's thoughts, "but if Rodney doesn't have a tumour, and this is obviously a hysterical pregnancy, then shouldn't he be seeing a psychiatrist or something? That isn't to say that you aren't doing a great job of taking care of him, but Rodney told me that you're a medical doctor, not a shrink."
Damn, Carson thought. She's got you there. He sighed and leaned back against the wall. "I'm here, first and foremost, as Rodney's friend."
Jeannie nodded quickly. "Yes, of course, but...but he still works for the Air Force, right? Surely they have people who can treat him."
"They don't know about it," Carson said. Then he winced inwardly, realizing he'd revealed too much.
Jeannie stared at him with an open mouth. "Rodney's gone AWOL?"
Carson just managed to smother a laugh. "Rodney's a civilian, so that isn't an issue. Besides, the Air Force knows that he's left, uh, the research base."
Jeannie's forehead creased in confusion. "But I thought..."
"He's on a leave of absence," Carson said.
"For medical reasons?" Jeannie asked.
Carson almost sighed in relief. "Yes, exactly." In fact, that was essentially what he'd told Elizabeth.
Jeannie crossed from her wall to Carson's side of the hall. "You kept it quiet to protect Rodney's reputation."
Carson hesitated, not knowing what to say. They were straying even further from the truth, and he hated the idea of lying outright to Jeannie. Then he felt a hand on his arm.
"I want to help him," Jeannie said.
Carson squeezed her hand. "Of course you do."
"No, I mean it," Jeannie said. "I can handle it. I-I want to handle it." She glanced at the door. "I want Rodney to come stay with me."
Carson raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, I see. Well, that's great."
"You're invited too, of course," Jeannie said. "If you want to." She blushed and looked at the fire extinguisher. Carson thought it was rather sweet, and not because it reminded him of Rodney.
"That's very kind of you," Carson said, "but I don't want to be any trouble."
Jeannie's eyes flew back to his face. "You wouldn't be. I assumed you would be staying to look after Rodney. I wouldn't have made the suggestion otherwise."
Carson smiled. "Well, if you're sure..."
"Good. Then it's settled," Jeannie said. "I'll need time to clean, so maybe you guys could come around 3:00 or 4:00."
Carson nodded. "That sounds perfect. Thank you."
Jeannie bit her lip. "You might not thank me when you see the place," she said. "There's only one spare room and it's in the basement. You and Rodney are going to have to fight over it and the couch in the living room."
Carson held back a grimace. "I'm sure it will be lovely."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
As Carson sat on the edge of his desk watching Rodney breathe deeply into a paper bag, he wondered if there was a way he could have broken the news without causing his patient to hyperventilate.
"But it's impossible!" Rodney gasped.
Carson laid a hand on one of Rodney's taut shoulders. "I know," he said. After receiving the same results from the MRI, and even a conventional ultrasound machine, Carson had been forced to accept that it was possible.
Rodney pulled the paper bag away. "But I never had a uterus before! I'm sure I would have noticed if I had! And-and pregnant? I can't be pregnant!" He grabbed Carson by his lab coat. "I'm a man! A man! How can I be pregnant?"
It was a struggle, but Carson managed to wrench free. "I don't know, Rodney. I was rather hoping you could tell me."
Rodney's face flushed. "Well, how the hell am I supposed to know? You're the quack, not me!"
"And you're the one who got knocked up!" Carson shouted. "You must have some idea how it happened!"
Rodney leapt up so quickly that his chair almost fell on the floor. He advanced towards Carson, who dodged behind his desk. "Do you think I had something to do with this?"
"As you're the one who's pregnant, yes!" Carson said. "I'd say you have everything to do with this!" He tensed when Rodney took another step towards him. Then Rodney pivoted on his heel and sank back in his chair. He passed a shaking hand across his face. Carson came out from behind his desk and approached Rodney cautiously.
"Do you know who the father is?" he asked.
Rodney stared at Carson for several seconds then started to laugh. When his laughter edged towards hysteria, Carson crouched in front of him and gripped his hand.
"Is it Colonel Sheppard?" he asked.
The laughter stopped abruptly. "What makes you think it's Sheppard?"
"I've seen the way you look at him," Carson said. "You've practically been in love with the man since the first day you met. And there have been signs from him as well.
Rodney groaned. "Please tell me he didn't ask you for lubricant."
Carson's lips twitched. "Well, he did now that you mention it."
"Oh, for the love of..." Rodney jumped up from the chair again and started pacing. "No one can know about this," he said.
Carson rose from his haunches. "We should at least tell Elizabeth."
"No!" Rodney said. "No one! You can't tell anyone! Doctor-patient confidentiality! I-I have rights!"
Carson lifted his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course you do, Rodney. You know I won't tell anyone. Not if you don't want me to."
Rodney closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "Thank you."
"Look, this is an awful lot to take in," Carson said. "You haven't even had a chance to consider all your options."
Rodney's eyes flew open. "Options? What options?"
"Well," Carson said, "whether you want to keep the baby or not, for one thing."
Rodney's hand moved instinctively to his belly. "What are you? Crazy? Of course, I'm keeping the baby!"
Carson was surprised by the intensity of Rodney's reaction. Given Rodney's dislike of children, Carson had just assumed he wouldn't want any of his own. Then the truth came out.
"This is a scientific miracle," Rodney said. "I'm the first human male to ever become pregnant. I have to carry through with the pregnancy in the interest of science." Rodney was now buzzing around the office in excitement, his hands fluttering. Carson decided it was time to introduce a dose of reality to the situation.
"Do you intend to spend your entire pregnancy in a lab?" he asked. "Are scientists going to adopt the baby?"
Rodney froze and paled visibly. "Oh my God. I hadn't even considered..." He fell back in his chair.
Carson rushed to his side. "Rodney, what's wrong?" He hadn't meant to upset him. Usually, Rodney was immune to sarcasm.
"They'll want the baby," Rodney said. "As soon as they find out about my pregnancy, they'll take it from me."
Carson frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about? Who's going to take the baby?"
Rodney gazed down at his belly. "The military, of course. They'll want to keep it in a lab, experiment on it."
Carson shook his head in disbelief. "Rodney, why would the military want your baby?"
Rodney snapped his fingers under Carson's nose. "Hello! We just discussed this. First male pregnancy. Miracle baby. Ring any bells? I think the question should be why wouldn't the military want my baby?" Rodney looked around the room cautiously, as if expecting a marine to ambush him. "I have to get out of here."
"Well, I was hoping we could finish our discussion first," Carson said, "but..."
Rodney shook his head. "No, not the infirmary, Carson. Atlantis."
"Leave Atlantis?" Carson said. "Are you serious?"
Rodney looked around again and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Very. I'll need to go into hiding. Probably in Canada. They won't find me there."
"You don't think the SGC could find you in Canada?" Carson asked. "What's to stop them from tracking you down?"
Rodney snorted. "Please! Most Americans don't even know where Canada is!" he said. "The lucky few that do stumble across the border have skis strapped to their cars and are off in search of igloos and polar bears."
Carson laughed then realized that Rodney wasn't being entirely facetious. "So your brilliant plan to evade the military is to go into confinement...in Canada?"
"Confinement," Rodney said, enunciating each syllable carefully. "Huh." He tilted his head to one side as if contemplating the word. Then he broke into a grin. "Confinement. Yes, that's it exactly. I'll go into confinement."
Carson sat down heavily, landing on his desk. "Rodney, you've had some rather shocking news. Maybe you should take some time to--"
Rodney raised his hand. "No, I'm not going to change my mind. I'm going into confinement. As soon as possible."
"You're only six weeks pregnant. You're not even showing yet." Carson sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're going to leave Atlantis no matter what I say, aren't you?"
Rodney lifted his chin, but remained silent, which was the only answer Carson needed.
"All right," he said. "I'll talk to Elizabeth and--"
"But you can't say anything! You promised!" Rodney had that panicked expression on his face. He grabbed Carson's arm, his fingers digging into the skin.
"Rodney, I wasn't going to tell her about your condition," Carson said. "I was going to tell her that you require a leave of absence."
"For what reason?" Rodney asked. His fingers were still wrapped tightly around Carson's arm.
"I'll tell her that you've been under a great deal of stress and could use some time off," Carson said.
Rodney wasn't impressed. "Okay, that might buy me a few weeks, but not a gestation period."
Gestation period? Bloody hell. "I'll tell her that you're exhausted," Carson said aloud, "and at serious risk of a breakdown."
Rodney looked thoughtful. "Do you think she'll buy it?"
Carson studied Rodney, taking in his pale complexion and the dark circles under his eyes. He knew how little sleep Rodney got, even on the best of days, and how hard he worked in general. Claiming that Rodney was on the verge of a collapse wouldn't be a huge stretch.
"I think I can convince her," Carson said.
"Oh, okay." Rodney's grip on Carson's arm loosened and he pulled his hand away.
Carson smiled. "Great. With any luck, we should be able to leave in the next week or two."
Rodney's eyebrows shot up. "We?"
"Aye," Carson said. "Someone will need to keep an eye on you."
"For God's sake, I'm a grown man, Carson," Rodney snapped.
"You also happen to be pregnant. I'm going to need to monitor you." Carson's eyes were gentle and full of concern.
Rodney's own eyes shifted to the floor. "I can't ask this of you."
"You don't have to," Carson said. "You're my friend. I'm going to be there."
Rodney's head jerked up and he stared at Carson. Then he gave a nervous nod. "Uh, yeah, okay. I...I guess I really can't do this on my own." Rodney rose from his chair. "I should go. I, uh..."
"You have a lot to think about, yes." Carson stood and, placing an arm around Rodney's shoulders, he escorted him from his office. "Get some rest," he said, as they walked through the infirmary. "We can talk again later."
Looking lost and hopelessly bewildered, Rodney simply nodded again and stumbled out the door. Carson managed to make it to a bed before his legs gave out. Torn between laughing and crying, he put his head in his hands.
"Trust Rodney McKay to get himself knocked up," he muttered.
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
"I can't believe how well Jeannie's taking the news," Rodney said. "I thought she'd freak out for sure."
Carson smiled weakly, trying to smother his guilt over deceiving both siblings. He had been tempted to tell Rodney what Jeannie really thought of his pregnancy, but Rodney was happy for the first time in days, and Carson wasn't about to shatter the illusion, no matter how much his conscience nagged him.
"Not bad, eh?" Rodney's eyes were fixed on the plate of chocolate chip cookies on the coffee table, but Carson assumed he was referring to Jeannie's house. Carson gave the living room a perfunctory glance.
"It's lovely," he said.
"Why, thank you." Jeannie emerged from the basement, lugging a laundry basket. "It's amazing what a difference it makes when you can actually see surfaces." She set the basket down on the couch next to Rodney. "Enjoy it while it lasts. It'll be a different story when Andrew comes home."
Rodney tore his eyes from the plate of cookies. "Ah, Andrew. Uh, when is he coming home exactly?"
Jeannie pulled some towels from the laundry basket. "Are you sure you're okay sleeping on the couch?" she asked Carson.
"Oh, yes," Carson said. "You get used to sleeping in some rather odd places when you're a doctor. Well, when you sleep at all, that is."
Rodney snorted. "Says the man who slept a solid eight hours last night."
"It was more like seven." Carson smiled at Jeannie. "The couch will be fine."
"In that case, Rodney can help me make up the bed in the basement," Jeannie said. She tossed a sock at her brother's head. Rodney grumbled under his breath, but still rose from the couch. Carson was about to get up himself, but Jeannie put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. We can handle it." She leaned forward to whisper in Carson's ear. "I know what Rodney can be like. I'm sure you could use a break."
Carson was about to argue that he didn't need a break, that he and Rodney had spent most of the day watching TV in their motel room, when Rodney turned and glared at them.
"I heard that," he said.
Jeannie rolled her eyes. "Shout if you need anything."
"All right," Carson said. "Thanks." He had a feeling that the real reason Jeannie was giving him a break was so that she could spend some time with her brother. When they hadn't returned from the basement fifteen minutes later, his suspicions were confirmed. Smiling to himself, he started reading another article in The Mirror. He was almost halfway through it when the front door opened and a little boy walked into the house.
Carson watched as the boy, ignorant of his presence, dropped his backpack on the floor and yanked off his sneakers. Then the boy looked up and froze when he saw the stranger sitting in his living room.
"Hello," Carson said. "You must be Andrew." He held out his hand. "I'm Carson."
The boy stared at him. With his dark hair and big brown eyes, he didn't bear much resemblance to his mother or uncle. "Are you my mom's friend?"
"Actually, I only just met your mum today," Carson said. "I'm your Uncle Rodney's friend."
"Oh." Andrew almost sounded disappointed. Then his face scrunched up as if he were thinking about what Carson had just told him. "Uncle Rodney?" he asked.
"Aye, he's in the basement with your mum. He's helping her put the spare room together." Though Carson wondered how much Rodney was helping as opposed to hindering. "We're both going to be staying here for a while." When the boy didn't say anything in response, Carson said, "I hope that's okay."
Andrew shrugged. "I guess." He walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the fridge. Carson put down the paper and followed. Andrew was pouring himself a glass of apple juice. Some of it dribbled on the counter, but Andrew didn't seem to care. It wasn't until he had returned the tin to the fridge that he noticed Carson. "Oh, would you like some?"
"No, it's all right, son." Carson leaned against the counter and watched in amazement as Andrew swallowed almost the entire glass of juice in one gulp. "Are you allergic to citrus?" he asked.
Andrew swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "What's citrus? Is it, like, oranges and stuff?"
"Yes, that's right," Carson said. "Oranges, lemons, limes, grapefruit. I thought you might be allergic because you're drinking apple juice."
Andrew drained the rest of his glass. "I drink apple juice because I like it, but I think I had an allergy test when I was little."
Carson nodded. "Aye, your mum probably had you tested because your uncle's allergic to citrus."
"I know." Andrew tilted his head to one side thoughtfully. "I met Uncle Rodney when I was a baby, but I don't remember."
Carson chuckled. "Well, no, I suppose you wouldn't."
"Mom says I spit up all over him," Andrew said. "Do you think that's why Uncle Rodney didn't want to see me again?"
"No, of course not! I'm sure it's just because your uncle has been busy with work and..." Carson trailed off when he realized Andrew wasn't really listening.
Oblivious to Carson's concern, Andrew was rooting through a cupboard for snacks. "Mom says Uncle Rodney is really smart and he'd like me because I'm good at math." He tossed a glance over his shoulder at Carson and rolled his eyes. "Math's okay, but it's not hockey."
"Yes, your mum mentioned that you play hockey. Uh...what position?" Carson asked, hoping he had used the right terminology. Andrew, a box of crackers clutched to his chest, spun around. His face lit up.
"Forward," he said. "I've played left wing the last two games. Do you play hockey?"
Carson bit his lip. "Uh, no. To be honest, I don't know a lot about it."
"Oh." Andrew regarded Carson with something close to pity. Then he suddenly grinned. "I could teach you!" He tugged on Carson's sleeve, and Carson allowed himself to be led from the kitchen. After Andrew finished rifling through a box full of video tapes, they were sitting on the couch watching a hockey game. As Andrew explained the rules, strategies and even some of the stats, Carson was reminded of all the times Rodney presented his scientific findings at a briefing or came up with some theory to save Atlantis. Andrew spoke in the same animated manner, eyes bright, hands gesturing wildly.
When Rodney and Jeannie emerged from the basement, they gaped at the pair until Carson saw them from the corner of his eye.
"Andrew's been teaching me about hockey," Carson said.
Jeannie recovered first. "Uh, yes, I can see that." She smiled and shook her head. "I hope you realize that you'll never be able to leave now, that you've just become his best friend." She glanced at Andrew. "Did you at least offer the poor man a drink before you inflicted hockey on him?"
Andrew nodded absently. "Yeah, I asked him if he wanted apple juice, but he said no."
"Big surprise," Jeannie mumbled. "Look, turn that off for a minute and come meet Uncle Rodney."
Andrew hit the stop button with an exaggerated sigh and stood up. Carson and Jeannie watched in amusement as he sized his uncle up. As the seconds passed, Rodney looked more and more anxious. Finally, he whispered to Jeannie, "Am I supposed to hug him or something?"
Jeannie swatted his arm. "Yes, you're supposed to hug him! He's your nephew!"
Rodney swallowed nervously, while Andrew just grimaced. When neither Rodney nor Andrew made any further move, Jeannie snapped, "Andrew, give your uncle a hug."
Andrew crossed his arms and pouted. "Do I have to?"
"That depends," Jeannie said. "Do you want supper tonight? I was going to make Kraft Dinner."
Kraft Dinner?" Rodney rushed past Jeannie and swept Andrew up in his arms.
"Gee, this is so touching," Jeannie said. "If only there was film in my camera." She frowned when Andrew started struggling. "You can stop now, Rodney. You're starting to creep me out."
"Are you really making KD for supper?" Rodney asked.
"Yes!"
"Well, okay, then," Rodney said. He instantly released Andrew, who backed several feet away from his uncle.
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Carson stared at the pieces of hotdog floating in a sea of ketchup and vivid orange macaroni.
"I'm sorry," Jeannie said. "I'm so sorry."
Carson managed to tear his eyes away from Andrew's plate, quickly swallowing his disgust. "No, it's delicious."
Jeannie gave him a skeptical look. "You've barely touched it."
Carson glanced at Rodney, who was shovelling food into his mouth as if it were his last meal. "I'm a slow eater."
"Look, it's okay," Jeannie said. "I didn't have a chance to go grocery shopping and had to make do with what was in the house." Her eyes shifted to Andrew's plate. "This isn't exactly my best effort."
Rodney paused mid-bite. "It isn't?"
Jeannie glared at him. "No, it isn't."
"I don't know what the problem is," Rodney said. "I think this tastes great."
"Me too," Andrew said around a full mouth of Kraft Dinner.
"And it's nutritious." Rodney waved at his own plate, which, thankfully, was more orange than red. "With the hot dogs, you've got some kind of protein, with the powdered cheese sauce you've almost met a dairy requirement, and with the ketchup there's, uh, starch."
Jeannie rolled her eyes. "Rodney, you think stale cheesies are good."
"Well, they are," Rodney said. "They're nice and crunchy."
Jeannie put her head in her hands. "I think I'd better go grocery shopping tonight."
"You're tired," Rodney said. "Why don't you go tomorrow?"
"Because I probably won't have time." Jeannie massaged her temples. "I've got to be at the coffee shop to cover the morning shift. Then I have to work a double shift at Neptuna because--" She bit back what she'd been about to say, but Carson still figured it out. He knew Jeannie was working the double shift to make up for the fact that she'd missed work today. By the guilty look on Rodney's face, he had worked it out too.
Rodney cleared his throat. "Uh, I could go grocery shopping for you."
Jeannie raised her head from her hands. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."
"Well, I don't exactly have plans for tomorrow," Rodney said, "and I want to do it."
Jeannie eyed him suspiciously. "You want to go grocery shopping?"
Rodney wasn't phased. "Yeah. I mean, it's not like I really have the chance any more, what with living on--"
"The research base," Carson said.
Rodney nodded. "Uh, right. The research base."
Jeannie still didn't look convinced, but she let it go. "Okay, I'll make out a list and give you some money."
Rodney's fork hovered in mid-air. "What will I need those for?"
Jeannie spoke slowly and carefully, as if addressing a small child. "The list is so you know what to get, and the money is what you'll need to pay for it."
Rodney set his fork down on the table. "I'll be paying for the groceries."
"The hell you will." Jeannie didn't sound happy. Carson and Andrew both glanced at her nervously, but Rodney didn't even flinch.
"I know you said you didn't want any money," Rodney said, "but I need to pay for something."
Jeannie's hands curled into fists. "I don't want your money, Rodney. You're a guest and you're family."
"I'm also an extra mouth to feed," Rodney said. "If we were staying anywhere else, I'd have to pay for my accommodation and meals." He fixed his sister with a pout Carson knew he'd borrowed from John Sheppard. "At least let me contribute something."
Jeannie sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine. You can pay for half the groceries, but only half."
Rodney smiled triumphantly. "Okay, only half, but I don't need a grocery list." The smile faded when Jeannie simply stared at him. "What?" he demanded.
"Andrew's a growing boy and needs more than just junk food," Jeannie said.
Rodney huffed indignantly. "Jeannie, please. He's my nephew. I have only his best interests at heart." He leaned towards Andrew and whispered, "So what brand of hotdogs do you prefer? Schneiders?"
Jeannie groaned. "I'm making a list."
"Aye, and I'll go with him to make sure he follows it," Carson said.
Jeannie shot him a look of gratitude. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that." She took a sip of water, ignoring Rodney's irritated scowl. "Speaking of food, I'm afraid you guys will be on your own for dinner tomorrow night, but Andrew will be at a sleepover so at least you'll have the place to yourselves."
Andrew bit his bottom lip. "Uh, Mom..."
Jeannie raised an eyebrow at her son's anxious tone. "Yes, Andrew?"
"I was supposed to tell you. Britney's sick so there isn't going to be a sleepover," Andrew said.
Jeannie's face fell. "What? Oh, Andrew!"
"I'm sorry!"
"You could have told me sooner!"
"I forgot!"
Jeannie shook her head. "She's your best friend and you forgot. Well, that's just great." She stood up and snatched the cordless phone from the living room. "Now I've got to hunt down a babysitter."
"Ask Megan," Andrew said. "I like Megan." He smiled almost dreamily.
Jeannie's grip on the phone tightened. "I know you like Megan," she growled. "Every kid on the street likes Megan. But I may not be able to get her because you waited until now to tell me."
Andrew banged his fork on the table. "I said I was sorry!"
Jeannie ignored her son and started jabbing the buttons on the phone.
Carson cleared his throat. "I hate to interrupt, but why couldn't Rodney and I baby-sit Andrew?"
Jeannie dropped the phone and stared at Carson blankly. "What?"
"I second that. What?" Rodney said. Then he winced as Carson kicked him under the table. "On the other hand, I suppose I could use the, uh, practice."
Jeannie was still staring at Carson. "Umm...do you really think that's a good idea, what with Rodney's..." She twirled her hand elaborately.
"My what?" Rodney asked.
Jeannie blushed and lowered her eyes to the table. "Your medical condition, Rodney."
"Oh, that." Rodney waved off her concern with a flick of his wrist. "I'm only about eight weeks along, and it's not as if I'm planning on doing anything strenuous, like lifting the kid." He shot a sharp look at Andrew. "I won't have to lift you, will I?"
Andrew glanced from his uncle to his mother in confusion. "Medical condition?"
Jeannie gritted her teeth. "We'll talk about it later, Andrew."
"I don't mind if you tell him now," Rodney said. "He's going to find out about it sooner or later." Rodney laid a hand across his belly and patted it in an almost affectionate manner.
Andrew didn't miss the gesture and was now brimming with curiosity. "Tell me what?"
Jeannie took a deep calming breath. "I would rather talk to Andrew about this privately, when the time is right."
"Oh..." Rodney smiled smugly. "You haven't had 'the talk' yet, have you?"
Jeannie blushed even more. "That's none of your business, Rodney."
"Look," Rodney said. "He's probably already heard all about it from his little friends in the schoolyard."
Some of the confusion lifted from Andrew's face. "Is this about sex?" he asked.
Rodney jumped up and down in his chair, pointing at his nephew excitedly. "See! I told you!"
"Oh God." Jeannie slumped across the table, her head falling on her arms.
"What's the big deal?" Rodney said. "Mom told me about the birds and the bees when I was about Andrew's age."
Jeannie's head jerked up. "Mom only told you because she was pregnant with me, and you kept asking her why she was getting so fat!"
Carson, who had been doing his best to stay out of the family squabble and force down his meal, immediately began choking on a piece of macaroni. Jeannie leapt out of her chair and pushed a glass of water into his hand, while Rodney thumped him on the back ineffectually. Carson eventually coughed enough to clear his airway then gulped down some of the water.
"Mom," Andrew said, when it was clear the crisis was over, "if they baby-sit me are we going to be talking about sex because it's gross and-and I want to watch the game."
Jeannie beamed at her son with an expression of love, tenderness and relief. "Of course you don't have to talk about sex and you can watch as much hockey as you like."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
At first, Carson thought he was dreaming, but when he rolled over and felt a painful twinge in his neck, it was still there. It was faint and sounded like gunfire. Carson focused on the sound again. It was almost like an energy weapon: Ronon's pistol or maybe a Wraith blaster.
Carson's eyes flew open and he scrambled to sit up. That was when he realized the Wraith weren't attacking Atlantis. He wasn't even in the Pegasus Galaxy anymore, but lying on a couch in a Scarborough living room. It was dark except for the glow of the TV. Carson squinted and was able to make out a small pyjama-clad back. Andrew was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Carson shifted to get a better look at what the boy was watching and his sheets rustled. Andrew twisted around to stare at him.
"Did I wake you up?" Andrew whispered.
Carson rubbed his face groggily. "No, no, I was just dozing."
"Oh, okay. Would you like some breakfast. I can make cereal." Andrew lifted a bowl for Carson to inspect in the dark. Carson couldn't be sure, but he thought the milk looked pink.
"It's all right," Carson said. "You're watching your show."
"It's okay. I've seen this one." Andrew sprang to his feet and, not knowing what to do with his bowl, he thrust it into Carson's hands. Carson looked down and saw that the milk was, indeed, pink.
Andrew poked his head through the kitchen hatch. "What kind of cereal do you want?"
Carson gulped, knowing he might live to regret this. "Surprise me," he said.
When Andrew returned to the living room, they exchanged cereal bowls, and Carson was surprised when, instead of squatting in front of the TV, Andrew flopped down beside him on the couch. About twelve hours later, they were sitting on the same couch watching a hockey game and eating pizza.
The pizza had been Rodney's idea. Despite Carson's warning about how his stomach might react to the spices, Rodney had insisted that it was an essential component to the whole babysitting experience. When the pizza arrived, Rodney was forced to take his nose out of the newspaper long enough to notice the hockey game. He looked at his nephew and shook his head. "You're a Canadian cliché. Do you realize that?"
Andrew's brow creased. "What's a cliché?"
Carson grinned mischievously. "It means your Uncle Rodney thinks you're very special," he said.
Andrew blushed and looked away. "Oh, um, thanks," he mumbled.
Rodney glared at Carson before swooping down to snatch two slices of pizza from the open box on the coffee table. Then he raised the paper again and ignored the game.
"I take it you're not a hockey fan, then," Carson said.
Rodney snorted. "Please. Hockey is practically a religion here, and you know how I feel about religion."
Andrew frowned at his uncle in disappointment, and Carson patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. Rodney didn't speak again until the end of the first period, when a commentator announced that the referee would probably be sending one of the Leafs to the sin bin after he had purposely slammed a Ranger into the boards.
Carson raised an eyebrow at Andrew. "Sin bin?" he asked.
"Penalty box," Rodney said, beating Andrew to the answer. He froze when he realized what he'd done then scowled at Carson and Andrew when they made no attempt to hide their delight. "It's impossible to grow up in this country and not pick up some of it by osmosis."
Carson eyed Rodney incredulously. "Sin bin?"
"Okay, okay," Rodney said. "Maybe I've watched a game or two in my time. I mean, really, who hasn't?"
Andrew smiled around a mouthful of pizza. "I knew you liked hockey."
Rodney grimaced. "I admitted no such thing."
"Then why did you watch it?" Andrew asked.
Unable to come up with a suitable excuse, Rodney said, "You're an obnoxious little brat. Do you know that?" Andrew stuck out his tongue, and Rodney sputtered in outrage. "You're not allowed to do that! I'm your uncle: you're supposed to respect me!"
Andrew blew a raspberry and stuck his tongue out even further.
Rodney immediately started whining. "Carson, make him stop! He's not supposed to do that!" he said, but Carson was laughing too hard to render any assistance.
By the third period, Carson could feel himself getting drowsy. Then he began leaning heavily on the arm of the couch, and Andrew moved to the other end so he could stretch out. Carson fell asleep to Rodney's rants about the referee's severe mental deficiency.
When he woke up, there was an afghan draped over him. He heard voices and looked down to find Rodney and Andrew, their backs against the couch, having a quiet conversation on the floor.
"So this Britney is your best friend?" Rodney asked.
Andrew shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."
"But she's a girl," Rodney said.
Andrew gazed down at his stocking feet. "She's really good at hockey," he muttered.
Rodney just managed to conceal a smile. "Ah, of course."
"And she's not really a girl 'cause Mom says she's a tomboy," Andrew said.
This time, the corner of Rodney's mouth twitched. "I hate to break it to you, kid, but that doesn't really change anything. She just has more sense than the other little girls her age. Still, I guess you could do worse."
Andrew studied Rodney for a moment. "Who's your best friend?" he asked. "Carson?"
"No," was Carson's sleepy response. "Colonel Sheppard is."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
It was late and the mess hall was virtually empty. It would seem that, with the exception of his team, most of Atlantis had gone to bed. Of course, Rodney had been working into the wee hours and had resented the interruption, but Sheppard had said it was important, so Rodney had come.
As soon as Rodney approached their table, he knew something was wrong. Although Sheppard had adopted a casual pose, it seemed forced and not up to its usual standard. His tight smile belied his laidback sprawl. Rodney exchanged looks with Teyla and Ronon and saw that they were both ill at ease, as if sensing the tension emanating from Sheppard. Rodney sighed and pulled up a chair.
All four team members stared at each other until Sheppard cleared his throat and caught everyone's attention. "Uh, thanks for coming. This is something I thought you deserved to hear in person, so, uh..." He wiped his hands on his BDUs in a nervous gesture that was totally uncharacteristic of Sheppard.
Rodney immediately felt a surge of panic. "What's wrong?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Sheppard said. "Nothing's wrong. I just have something to tell you."
"Is it the Wraith?" Teyla asked. She was trying to be stoic, but Rodney could see that she was concerned.
Sheppard was quick to alleviate her fears. "No, no, it's nothing like that."
Ronon sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Are the Ancients kicking us out of Atlantis again?"
Sheppard ran a hand across his face. "No, the Ancients aren't kicking us out of Atlantis again." He took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."
Rodney's eyes widened. "What?"
"You can't do that," Ronon said. "We need you here."
Teyla touched Sheppard's arm. "This is your home. Why should you wish to leave?"
Sheppard raised a hand defensively. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he said. "I obviously should have phrased that better. I'm being temporarily re-assigned to the SGC."
"Why?" Rodney asked.
Sheppard rubbed his wristband absently. "The Ori threat has been growing. The SGC believes that it's only a matter of time before there's an all out war, so they're doing everything they can to prepare for such a situation."
Teyla raised an eyebrow. "Prepare how?"
"By recruiting experienced military commanders, like Sheppard, to fight in their war," Rodney said. He glanced at Sheppard. "Isn't that right, Colonel?"
Sheppard squirmed in his chair. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say 'fight'. I'd be more involved with the training aspect of things. The SGC seems to think that, with my knowledge and experience, I'd be an asset."
"Well, of course you would," Rodney said. "What you've learned on Atlantis alone makes you invaluable. They'd be fools not to see that."
Sheppard inclined his head graciously. "Thank you, Rodney. If I ever need a good recommendation, I'll be sure to come to you."
Rodney tried to look smug, but it was a half-hearted effort at best.
Teyla leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. "You said you had been temporarily re-assigned. How long will you be gone?"
Sheppard was careful not to meet anyone's eyes. "A few months."
Rodney's mouth fell open. "A few months?"
"Six months at most," Sheppard said.
Rodney shook his head. "Six months. You're going to be gone for six months."
Sheppard shrugged. "It's not as if I haven't been gone for six months before."
"If you're talking about your little trip to Oz," Rodney said, "you were only gone for about a day."
Sheppard glared at him. "It was six months for me, Rodney!"
Instead of giving a snarky comeback, Rodney gazed down at his hands. "Oh, uh, right. Sorry."
Teyla and Ronon must have looked equally glum because Sheppard said, "I'm going to be back before you know it. Before you even have a chance to miss me."
"When are you leaving?" Teyla asked, ignoring Sheppard's attempt to comfort them.
"Two weeks," Sheppard said. Then he frowned as Rodney emitted a high-pitched squeak. "Are you okay, buddy?"
Rodney nodded vigorously, but seemed incapable of speech.
Teyla rose swiftly from the table. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion in the morning. It is late and Ronon and I will both be rising earlier than usual."
This was apparently news to Ronon. "We will?" he asked.
"Do you not remember? We agreed to hold a sparring practice with some of the Marines." Teyla jerked her head at Rodney in a way that even Rodney, who was usually oblivious to such gestures, recognized as a hint.
"Oh, right," Ronon said. "The sparring practice." He stood and gave a quick wave before following Teyla out of the mess hall.
Sheppard massaged the back of his neck. "Well, that went about as well as I expected."
Rodney barely mustered a smile. "You expected it to go well?"
Sheppard squeezed Rodney's shoulder. "It will only be a few months."
"Sure," Rodney said. "Only a few months." He spoke in a flat emotionless voice, and Sheppard became even more concerned.
"Rodney, are you sure you're okay?" he asked. "Because, seriously, you don't look it."
Rodney pulled himself together with visible effort. "Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be? As I said before, you'll be an extremely valuable asset. The SGC can use all the help they can get against the Ori, and this is a wonderful opportunity for you. It might even lead to another promotion."
Sheppard's hand returned to Rodney's shoulder, and Sheppard looked directly into Rodney's eyes. "If I'm going to earn another promotion, I'd rather earn it, here, on Atlantis."
Rodney swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Well, yes, I'm sure we'd all prefer that."
Sheppard's eyes remained locked with Rodney's. "No matter what happens, I'm coming back."
"Promise?" Rodney said.
This time when Sheppard smiled, it was absolutely genuine. "Yeah, Rodney, I promise."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Carson opened his eyes slowly and saw an angel with golden tresses floating above him. He blinked his eyes and the angel materialized into Jeannie.
"Hi," she said.
"Oh, hi." Carson sat up and looked around the living room. Rodney was still sitting on the floor, but the couch was propping him up, and his head was leaning against one of the cushions. Andrew was nowhere to be seen.
"Relax," Jeannie said when she saw the flash of panic in Carson's eyes. "He put himself to bed. He's tucked in and everything."
Carson scrubbed a hand over his face. "I guess we don't make very good babysitters."
Jeannie bit her lip. "It could be worse. I fell asleep during one of Andrew's hockey games and missed him scoring a goal. He didn't speak to me for days." She broke into a grin, and Carson couldn't help laughing. "Come on," she said, glancing down at Rodney, "we'd better get Sleeping Beauty to bed."
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
"Are you sure he isn't bulimic?" Jeannie asked.
They were standing outside the basement bathroom, listening to Rodney throw up. Carson had hoped that the B6 supplement and improved diet would help alleviate Rodney's symptoms, but the morning sickness was just as bad as ever.
"Rodney isn't bulimic," Carson said. He tried to sound patient, but it wasn't easy when Jeannie asked him the same question almost every morning. By the stubborn set of her jaw, Carson could tell that she still wasn't convinced.
"Guys can suffer from bulimia too, you know. It was on 20/20 or one of those shows." Jeannie lifted her chin defiantly as if her news program was just as valid as Carson's years of medical training.
As she actually did have her facts straight, Carson tried to appease her. "Yes, you're absolutely right, luv."
"Hmm." Jeannie pressed her ear against the bathroom door. "Rodney, are you okay?"
"What do you think?" Rodney shouted from the other side.
Jeannie winced. "Are you sure he cut back to one coffee a day?"
Carson smiled weakly. "Why do you think he's so cranky?"
Jeannie rested her head against the door jamb. "Did that therapist say how long this would last? I mean, is Rodney going to have 'morning sickness' as long as a pregnant woman would?"
Carson nodded reluctantly. "Uh, yes."
Jeannie sighed wearily. "And that's, like, what? Another three or four weeks?"
"In some cases, it can last throughout the entire pregnancy," Carson said. Then he wanted to smack himself when he saw the look on Jeannie's face.
"You haven't told Rodney that, have you?" she hissed.
Carson almost shuddered. "Good God, no. It would be more than my life is worth." And it would be. Rodney had given him enough grief about the restrictions placed on his caffeine consumption. He'd probably fly into a homicidal rage if Carson even hinted at the possibility of his morning sickness lasting for the whole pregnancy.
"I think Rodney's gained a couple of pounds," Jeannie said. "Have you noticed?" She crossed her arms and studied Carson shrewdly. "What did the therapist have to say about that?"
"Uh..." Of course, Rodney hadn't gone to a therapist at all. During Rodney's so-called "appointment," they had, in fact, taken a trip downtown. As Rodney had spent money at Silver Snail and 3rd Quadrant Comics, Carson had been forced to tell Jeannie that they'd visited these places after the "appointment" to cheer up Rodney. Carson had asked Jeannie not to mention the therapy to Rodney, as Rodney was a bit sensitive about the subject. To Carson's shame, Jeannie had accepted his story, and Carson had realized what an accomplished liar he'd become.
"Maybe Rodney should get some exercise," Jeannie said. "I mean, he's basically been lounging around the house for the past two weeks."
Carson blinked in surprise. "Oh, well..."
Jeannie glanced at the bathroom door. "I know he's...not well, but it couldn't hurt, could it?"
Carson suddenly felt guilty for not giving more thought to Rodney's regimen. Exercise was important during pregnancy. "You're absolutely right. Rodney should be getting some exercise."
"There's a treadmill down here." Jeannie jerked her chin at the exercise equipment that was standing against the far wall. "It hasn't been used for a while, but it should be okay." She cast one last look at the bathroom door. "Try to keep him out of trouble."
"I'm not a miracle worker," Carson said, "but I'll do what I can."
Jeannie smiled and headed for the stairs. "Have a good day, Carson."
"You too, luv." Carson walked over to the treadmill and started pulling it out from the wall. Then he coughed as he stirred up a cloud of dust.
"You're not sick, are you?" Rodney had finally emerged from the bathroom, but he was keeping close to the threshold, as if fearing that Carson might be carrying an infectious disease.
"I'm not sick, Rodney. It's just dust." Carson studied his friend, noticing the greenish tinge to his skin. "How are you feeling?"
Rodney grimaced. "Like the baby is trying to claw its way out of the womb."
"It's too early for you to be feeling any movement from the baby," Carson said. "However, if it makes you feel any better, we'll take a quick look."
Rodney frowned in confusion. "Weren't you going to examine me anyway?"
"Yes, I was." Carson gestured towards the bed, and Rodney, taking the hint, sat down on the mattress.
"So, you're really just humouring me," Rodney said.
"Pretty much, yes." Carson knelt on the floor and pulled the portable ultrasound out from under the bed.
Rodney settled against the pillows as Carson flicked on the device. "Do you actually need me to do anything, or can I just lie back and think of being nauseous?"
"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but you should feel better after the first trimester." Carson positioned the ultrasound over Rodney's belly and tried to get a clear scan of the fetus. He glanced at his patient and smiled when he saw that Rodney was already scrutinizing the image being formed.
"The head is still huge," Rodney said.
"It's supposed to be. The rest of the body will catch up soon enough." Carson pressed a button and the picture grew sharper. Then he saved the scan and set the ultrasound down on the mattress, so Rodney could get a better look. "That big head has ears and an upper lip now."
Rodney stared at the ultrasound, transfixed. "Are-are those organs?"
"Aye, all of the baby's vital organs will have developed by now." Carson pointed to the frail skeletal limbs. "Do you see the wee fingers and toes?"
Rodney nodded, his eyes not leaving the ultrasound. "Yes. They're...wow."
Carson chuckled quietly. No matter how much Rodney moaned and griped about his symptoms, Carson knew he couldn't help being excited and fascinated by the baby. "So are you satisfied that it's not trying to claw its way out of the womb?" Carson asked.
"What? Oh, yes. For now, yes." Rodney dragged his eyes away from the ultrasound and looked at Carson. "Do you know what the sex is yet?"
Carson shook his head in amusement. "It's too early, Rodney. You know that."
"Yeah," Rodney said, "but your ancient toy produces superior scans. I thought you'd have a better idea of what's going on...down there."
The external genitalia had started to develop, and, with the scans the portable ultrasound had rendered, there were some clear indications of what the baby's sex might be, but Carson still couldn't be absolutely sure at this stage. He could end up misleading Rodney, and possibly disappointing him, if his prediction was wrong.
"Not even a hint?" Rodney asked, still hopeful and annoyingly persistent. Carson simply gave him a look. "What? I just want to be prepared. Should I be buying a tiny Leafs jersey, or...or...Oh, God! Carson, what do little girl babies like?"
"Rodney, why don't you wait until you know the baby's sex before you start worrying about what you'll need to buy?" Carson was hoping to keep Rodney calm, but Rodney wasn't about to cooperate. In fact, he looked like he was about to hyperventilate.
"Okay, okay, what did Jeannie have when she was a baby?" Rodney's gaze returned to the ultrasound, as if it might somehow supply the answer, then snapped his fingers. "A bunny! Jeannie had a little pink bunny!"
Carson nodded enthusiastically. "A pink bunny sounds perfect."
But Rodney was now shaking his head, looking crestfallen. "No, it isn't."
Carson was perplexed. "It isn't?"
"No," Rodney said. "My parents got her that."
Carson waited for an explanation. When one wasn't forthcoming, he asked, "And this is bad because...?"
Rodney sighed impatiently. "My parents sucked, Carson. Why do you think Jeannie's so screwed up?" Rodney's eyes widened and he began to flap his hands frantically. "I have crappy role models! What am I going to do? I-I don't know what to do! I don't know how to be a parent!"
Jeannie's not the only one who's screwed up, Carson thought. "Rodney, the baby won't be here for months. You'll have plenty of time to prepare." He laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "You won't be alone. I'll be there to help you." When Rodney still looked doubtful, Carson said, "There are also books you can read on the subject."
Rodney's curiosity was piqued. "Books? What kind of books?"
"Parenting books," Carson said.
"Really?" Rodney sounded surprised. "And these parenting books, they're available to the general public?"
Carson had to cough to hide his laughter. "Aye, you can find them in places called 'bookstores'."
"Bookstores," Rodney muttered absently. Then he broke out of his trance. "We're going to World's Biggest. We still have tokens left. We can go down on the TTC." He hopped off the bed and started rooting around for some clothes.
"Before we pop off to buy parenting books, there's something I'd like to discuss with you," Carson said.
Rodney spun around, a sweatshirt clutched in his hand. "But inappropriate role models. No parenting skills. Can't it wait?"
"This concerns the welfare of the baby too, Rodney." Carson nodded at the treadmill. "You need to start exercising."
"Exercising!" Rodney dropped the sweatshirt and flopped back on the bed.
Carson crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, exercising."
Rodney flung a hand over his face and groaned. "But I thought the point of being pregnant was to gain weight, not lose it."
"It's about being healthy, which means getting some form of exercise." Carson began moving the treadmill again, but stopped when he heard something thump on the ground.
"What was that?" Rodney asked, sitting up on the bed.
"I don't know." Carson walked around the treadmill and stared at the black case lying on the floor. He hadn't noticed it before and realized that it must have been propped up against the wall, behind the treadmill. He lifted it off the floor and showed it to Rodney.
"Oh, that must be Jeannie's portfolio," Rodney said.
Carson raised both eyebrows. "Jeannie's portfolio?"
"Bring it here," Rodney said, motioning Carson over to the bed.
Carson handed the portfolio to Rodney. "Do you think we should be doing this?"
"Probably not." Rodney unzipped the black case, and a series of paintings began to stretch across the mattress. There were several still lifes, some portraits and landscapes, and even some experiments in modern art.
"Jeannie painted all of these?" Carson asked in wonder.
"Yep." There was a hint of pride in Rodney's voice, and he smiled as he studied his sister's work. "She went to OCA -- the Ontario College of Art."
Carson picked up one of the landscapes and examined it more closely. "So Jeannie has a degree in Fine Art?"
"Uh, not exactly," Rodney said. "She dropped out."
Carson placed the painting back on the bed. "Oh, that's a shame. Do you know why?"
Rodney frowned thoughtfully and shrugged. "Maybe she started doubting herself. She's always had self esteem issues."
Carson pointed at the paintings. "But these are really good. She was obviously very talented."
"Ah, but I'm not sure Jeannie ever believed that." Rodney started gathering up the paintings, but a hand fell on his wrist.
"No, wait," Carson said.
~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~
Rodney waited until Sheppard was off duty. Then he waited some more, waited until Sheppard had reached his usual destination, the place he went to every day. For the past week, Sheppard had been standing in the same spot, on the same balcony, watching the sun set. It was as if he were trying to burn the image into his mind, as if he were afraid he'd never see it again. It was really starting to freak Rodney out.
"Is there some reason why you're staring at the back of my head?" Sheppard asked.
"Oh, uh, hi," Rodney said. He chose a place at the railing beside Sheppard and gazed out at the ocean.
Sheppard studied him curiously. "You're not looking for Sam again, are you?"
"Sam?" Rodney glanced over his shoulder, and Sheppard rolled his eyes.
"Your whale, Rodney," Sheppard said through gritted teeth.
"What? Oh, right." Rodney's eyes returned to the water. "Hey, we haven't seen him for a while. Do you think he's okay?"
"I'm sure he's just fine." Sheppard leaned forward, resting his elbows on the railing.
"Hmm. You're probably right." Rodney mimicked Sheppard's pose, allowing some of the tension to seep away from his tense neck and shoulders. He closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp sea air, feeling the wind sweep his hair. Even the fading sunlight was pleasant, despite the harmful UV rays.
"Not that I don't appreciate the company," Sheppard said, "but is there some reason why you're here?"
"No, no." Rodney opened his eyes and saw the skeptical look on Sheppard's face. "Well, actually, yes. Yes, there is."
Sheppard waited a few moments before impatiently twirling his hand. "And that would be?" he asked.
Rodney straightened from the railing and lifted his chin. "I found something interesting in the database we should check out."
Sheppard raised an eyebrow. "Interesting as in new Ancient toy interesting, or interesting as in a hidden cache of fully-charged ZPMs?"
"Uh, somewhere in between," Rodney said. "I've found several references to a laboratory on a planet called Creseda."
Sheppard made a face. "A laboratory? That's your 'interesting'?"
Rodney scowled and crossed his arms. "Laboratories are always interesting. However, this particular laboratory is interesting because the scientists were apparently conducting research into an alternate power source. If the notes I found were at all accurate, this power source could produce an even greater energy yield than a ZPM."
"Cool," Sheppard said. "How?"
Rodney deflated slightly. "Ah. I'm not exactly sure."
Sheppard's forehead creased. "You're not sure? How can you not be sure? I thought there were several references in the database." His eyes narrowed. "What's your current definition of 'several'? Two or three?"
Rodney deflated even more. "Four or five," he admitted.
Sheppard snorted and shook his head. "A few references in the database isn't a lot to go on, Rodney. As a scientist, I would have thought you'd need more substantial proof."
Rodney wouldn't meet Sheppard's eyes. "There were notes."
"Yeah, incomplete notes by the sounds of it," Sheppard said.
Rodney shifted uncomfortably. "There might be more complete notes in the lab on Creseda."
"If the lab even exists," Sheppard mumbled.
Rodney's head shot up. "Maybe you've forgotten, Colonel, but we came to the Pegasus Galaxy to-to learn stuff."
Sheppard's eyebrows almost disappeared under his hairline. "Learn stuff?"
Rodney's eyes gleamed almost maniacally. "Yes, learn stuff!" he cried. "Learning stuff --learning stuff is our business. It's a part of our mission -- our mission to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life and civilizations, to boldly go--"
Sheppard clamped a hand over Rodney's mouth. "Whoa! Hold it right there, mister!" He stared into the pair of blue eyes glaring back at him and sighed. "And you accuse me of being Kirk. You're the Kirk around here, not me."
"Ahm nah Kur," Rodney said.
Sheppard removed his hand. "You were channeling William Shatner just now. You're totally Kirk."
Rodney's chin jutted out aggressively. "I'm totally not! I'm Spock, not Kirk!"
Sheppard grinned. "I don't know, Rodney. I don't remember Spock ever spouting monologues like that one."
"Ah," Rodney said, "but Spock's a Vulcan, so he's curious. He would want to explore this laboratory."
"Oh, he would, would he?" Sheppard placed his hands on his hips. "Don't you think Spock would find it illogical to explore a strange new lab without all the facts?"
Rodney blushed but continued to stand his ground. "Yes, but Spock knows that Kirk is leaving Enterprise in a week, so if they're going on this mission they need to put together an away team, like, yesterday!"
Sheppard's eyes widened and Rodney wished he could learn to keep his mouth shut for once. It was now patently obvious that the lab on Creseda was just a flimsy excuse for him to spend some time with his team before Sheppard left Atlantis. Rodney steeled himself for a barrage of sarcastic comments and insults, but Sheppard didn't say anything. Then Rodney looked at Sheppard, really looked at him, and was startled to see that Sheppard wanted this mission just as badly as he did.
Sheppard directed his gaze back to the ocean. "I'll talk to Elizabeth, see if I can sell her on the idea."
"That would be great," Rodney said.
Sheppard's nod was barely perceptible. "Yeah, yeah."
"No, really. I mean it. I appreciate it." Rodney patted Sheppard's back awkwardly then decided to make a hasty exit. He had almost reached the door, when Sheppard called out to him.
"This had better not be another Doranda."
Rodney froze and turned around slowly. Sheppard regarded him sternly for an instant, and Rodney swallowed nervously. Then Sheppard smiled and waggled his eyebrows, and Rodney knew he was only joking.
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It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Carson had chosen a watercolour from Jeannie's portfolio -- Toronto Harbour, according to Rodney -- and had measured it for a frame. Rodney had tried to warn him, but Carson had ignored his advice. Rodney had continued to voice his doubts as Carson hammered the nail in the wall. He had then shot concerned glances at the painting once it was hanging over the couch. However, Carson had dismissed Rodney's anxiety as paranoia. What Carson should have remembered was that, despite Rodney's deplorable people skills, he was pretty adept at reading his sister, the sister who was currently staring at the wall in horror.
"What the hell...?" Jeannie gasped. "How...? Why...?" Her cheeks flushed, and her fingers curled into fists.
Carson tried to catch Rodney's eye, hoping for some assistance, but Rodney had wisely buried his head even further inside his parenting book.
"You had no right to go into my portfolio! You-you...How could you?" Jeannie's chest was heaving, her breathing harsh.
Rodney lowered his book. "Jeannie, calm down."
Jeannie ignored her brother. "Well?" she demanded.
Carson couldn't help flinching at her tone. "I'm sorry," he said. "I-I thought you'd like it. After everything you've done for us, I just wanted to do something nice in return."
"Like invading my privacy?" Jeannie crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "What have I done besides letting you both stay here?" she asked. "You've been doing everything else around here: cooking, cleaning, daycare. If anything, I should be thanking you. I'm amazed I was possibly able to cope before you got here."
Rodney set his book aside. "Lay off him, Jeannie. He's just been trying to help." When Jeannie glared at him, Rodney said, "Okay, the painting was a mistake, but you're seriously over-reacting."
Jeannie's expression grew even darker. "How would you like it if Carson recorded you on the piano and then played it back to a bunch of people?"
Rodney tensed. "I don't play anymore."
"And I don't paint!" Jeannie shouted. "I haven't painted for years!"
Rodney rose from the armchair. "Yeah, well, maybe you should! You'd be a hell of a lot happier! Certainly happier than being a waitress!"
"'Happy' doesn't pay the bills, Rodney," Jeannie growled.
"Then let me pay them," Rodney said. "I could loan you some money. You could--"
"No!"
Rodney threw up his hands in frustration. "Why do you have to be so stubborn about this? I'm your brother. I'm supposed to help you, look after you."
Jeannie laughed sharply. "Oh, that's rich coming from you! You're barely able to look after yourself!"
Rodney frowned in confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well," Jeannie said, "you're not exactly firing on all thrusters, are you?"
"What?" Rodney exclaimed. Then he whirled around when he heard a polite cough. A dark-haired man, with an earring, black leather jacket and jeans, stood inside the front hall. Andrew and a blond girl, with pigtails and a Toronto Raptors t-shirt under her jacket, had also stepped through the front door. Then the kids were just a blur as they tore through the living room and out the side door, into the backyard.
"We obviously should have knocked." The man smiled sheepishly and dug his hands into his pockets.
Jeannie stared at him blankly for a moment. "Uh, Jamie. Hi."
"Hi." Jamie toed off his sneakers and headed towards the group, halting mid-stride when he saw what was hanging over the couch. "Hey, cool painting."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Jeannie stormed out of the living room, and, about ten seconds later, the three men heard a bedroom door slam.
"Well, that was interesting," Jamie said. Then he lowered his voice to a whisper. "It must be her time of the month." He patted his pockets and sighed. "I left my BlackBerry at home, so I can't check."
Rodney gaped at him. "You keep track of Jeannie's cycle in your BlackBerry?"
Jamie nodded. "Yeah, I keep track of all the women I know."
Rodney stared at Jamie as if he were deranged. "Uh, why?" he asked.
"I had four older sisters growing up," Jamie said. "It was a matter of survival." He looked in the direction of Jeannie's room and smiled fondly. "I use 'JE' for 'Jeannie' because 'J' is already taken by my co-worker, Jill." He shuddered dramatically. "Jill's a bitch even when she doesn't have PMS."
Rodney lost his patience altogether. "Who the hell are you and what planet are you from?"
Jamie beamed, his whole face lighting up. "You must be Uncle Rodney. Ah, it's great to meet you, honey."
Rodney squawked and flailed his arms as he was engulfed by Jamie. "Carson, he's hugging me! Carson, he called me 'honey'! Carson, he keeps track of my sister's cycle in his BlackBerry!"
Carson couldn't help laughing at Rodney's predicament, but then he was backing away as Jamie advanced towards him. "I'm Carson Beckett," he said, extending his hand quickly to forestall any attempts at hugging.
Jamie grasped Carson's hand and flashed another smile. "Oh, my God! That accent is so sublime, I could bathe in it!" He smacked Carson lightly on the arm. "Andrew never told me you were Scottish! I would have come over here sooner if I'd known, despite having to nurse my daughter and husband back to health." Then Jamie thought about what he'd said and shook his head. "No, on second thoughts, I still would have stayed away. It would have been tragic if you'd become infected with the flu and developed laryngitis."
Carson blushed profusely. "Uh, it's very kind of you to be so concerned about my health."
Rodney, who was still stuck a couple of sentences back in the conversation, was staring at Jamie in disbelief. "Daughter?" he asked. "Husband?"
If anything, Jamie looked even more shocked. A hand flew to his mouth, and Carson noticed the gold band on Jamie's finger for the first time. "Oh, come on!" Jamie said. "You must have heard about it! We were the juiciest scandal in the neighbourhood when we first moved here. There was a petition to get rid of us, and we even had Children's Aid show up at our door..." He trailed off when he saw the dumbstruck expressions on Rodney's and Carson's faces. "Oh, wow. You really didn't know?" Jamie laughed softly. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Poor Claude will be so disappointed. Maybe if we adopted another kid. Our tomboy could probably use a little brother or sister."
Rodney snapped his fingers. "Oh, that's who you are. You're Britney's dad."
"Well, one of them. Actually, I'm her 'daddy' and Claude is her 'dad'." Jamie suddenly grew sober. "This isn't going to be a problem, is it?"
Carson shook his head emphatically. "No, no, of course not."
Rodney met Jamie's eyes with a calm, level gaze. "I'd be a pretty big hypocrite if it were a problem."
Jamie grinned. "Ah, I wasn't sure. Don't take this the wrong way, but you kind of dress like a straight man."
Rodney's lips twitched. "I've heard worse, believe me."
"He's said worse too," Carson said, earning a glare from Rodney and another grin from Jamie. "Will you stay for supper?" he asked their guest. "I've made shepherd's pie."
"Oh, sweetie, I'd love to, but I should really get back to Claude." Jamie shoved his hands back in his pockets again and rocked on his heels. "When I said I'd nursed my daughter and husband back to health, I told an itty bitty lie. Claude's still sick. Oh, he's past the infectious stage," Jamie hastened to add. "I wouldn't have allowed Andrew to come over if I thought Claude was still infectious. He's just lingering, the big baby."
"I'm a doctor," Carson said. "I'd be happy to come over and take a look at him."
Jamie's mouth fell open. "You're Scottish and a doctor! Oh, it's such a shame that you're straight! Still..." His eyes wandered back to the hall leading to Jeannie's bedroom.
Carson immediately retreated to the kitchen. "You can take some shepherd's pie home with you," he called through the hatch. "I made more than enough." When he returned to the living room, Jamie had a completely innocent expression on his face, but Rodney looked like he was trying not to snigger.
"Thanks, doc," Jamie said, accepting the container Carson handed to him. "I'll let you know if we need a house call, though I think you'll have your hands full playing doctors and nurses over here."
"Oh, be off with you," Carson grumbled, waving him away.
Jamie laughed. "Send Britney home when you get tired of her."
"We might have to keep her here to eat Jeannie's portion of the shepherd's pie," Carson said.
Jamie patted Carson's shoulder. "Oh, she'll show up for dinner. She'll be embarrassed and stammer out an awkward apology, but she'll be there."
Jamie's prediction came true. Jeannie did emerge from her room in time for dinner. She muttered an apology and refused to look anyone directly in the eye, even Andrew. Later, when Carson had settled down for the night, Jeannie came and sat on the edge of the couch. As she didn't flick on the end table lamp, her face remained concealed, and Carson couldn't read her expression.
"It isn't about the painting," Jeannie said. Then she paused, and Carson thought he saw her pass a hand across her face. "Okay, it is about the painting, but..." She sighed heavily. "You're doing too much. You're-you're helping too much."
Carson pushed himself into a sitting position, his back resting against the arm of the couch. "I'm not helping too much. I'm here all day with nothing to do except look after your brother. I can at least help out with some of the chores."
Jeannie groaned. "Carson, you disinfect my toilets and fold my underwear. You would have cleaned Andrew's hockey equipment if I hadn't warned you in time."
"I was just trying to help," Carson said meekly.
"I know and it's wrong." Jeannie sighed again. "Don't you get it? It's only been two weeks and we're already becoming dependent on you."
Carson reached across the blankets and squeezed Jeannie's hand. "It's okay. I don't mind. Really."
"Well, I mind," Jeannie said. "You're not going to be around forever. I think Andrew's already becoming too attached to you, which is bad enough, but if I start relying on you then we're really screwed. When you're gone, I'll have to learn how to cope on my own again and I don't know if I can do that."
Carson really wished he could see Jeannie's face. "You're not on your own," he said. "You've got--"
"Family? Friends?" Jeannie asked. "I'm a single mother, Carson. I'm always on my own." She patted Carson's leg through the blankets. "Just back off, okay? And stop being so...so nice."
Not knowing what to say, Carson simply nodded. Jeannie's teeth flashed in what might have been a smile, and then she rose from the couch and headed back to her room.
Carson lay awake for a long time after Jeannie left, staring into the darkness. He kept thinking about what she'd said. He didn't want Jeannie to be angry or upset, and, yet, he didn't know how he would possibly be able to obey her request.
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