Till A' the Seas Gang Dry (G)
Jan. 25th, 2007 08:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skidmo_ficI had to skip over Letters From Pegasus before because it was very important to me that this fic be posted today. You'll understand once you read it :).
Title: Till A’ the Seas Gang Dry
Rating: G
Pairing: Beckett/Ford
Spoilers: Letters From Pegasus
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Surprise party for Carson
Author’s Notes: written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
gatecreation episodes challenge. The title comes from Robert Burns’ “A Red, Red Rose.”
Carson shifted uncomfortably on his stool. He’d taken Ford’s advice and tried to tell his mum that he loved her, but he’d started crying, and it had taken him a good five minutes to pull himself together after that.
He was in the middle of his message now, but he still felt a bit odd both talking to his mum when she was literally light-years away and trying to say what he wanted to say in front of the young lieutenant.
“I don’t know when you’ll get this, but I’d guess you’ll be in the midst of preparations for Uncle Gerard’s Burns Supper, so I’ll not keep you long. I’m doing well here, making lots of friends, so there’s no need to worry about me, though I doubt I’ll find anyone to celebrate Burns Night with. The expedition is woefully short on Scots. Say hello to Meg and Charlie, and to Paul and Julia and their wee ones, and to...well, just to everyone. Give them my love. I know you’d be proud of the work we’re doing here. So take care of yourself. Lots of sleep; remember your daily walks; and keep up with your prescription. Well, that's about it. I'll say goodbye now. And, Mum? I do love you.”
When Ford shut off the camera, Carson jumped down from the stool and quickly left the room. If he noticed the strange look the young man was giving him, he didn’t react at all.
He rushed down the corridor to his quarters, not pausing until the door was safely shut behind him. Crossing to the door that led out to his balcony, he opened it and stepped out into the cool ocean air. After shutting the door behind him, he slid to the ground and let the tears come.
It was foolish, he knew, to let something like a message to his mum get him so worked up. He should be happy, really. The news that they’d be allowed to send personal messages home had come as a complete surprise. After months of believing they might be stuck here forever with no way to ever contact their loved ones again, well, it was a miracle really.
But it only served to highlight for Carson just how far from home he really was. This Friday would be January 25th, Burns Night. And though it had been years since Carson had attended a Burns Supper, the realization that he wouldn’t have the option, for what would in all likelihood be his last ever January, left him feeling utterly gutted.
As he sat, with his head in his hands, on the cold floor of his balcony, overlooking an ocean at once alien and familiar, he prayed that their last stand would be enough to keep the Wraith from Earth, even if they were never
to return to it.
***
The next few days were hectic for Carson, news of the Wraith ships on their way to Atlantis had most of the population in a barely contained panic. The infirmary had never been so busy. Before Carson knew it, Friday had come. The traffic in the infirmary had slowed in the afternoon, but it was still well past dinner time when he finally stumbled towards his quarters.
He was just about to open the door when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned to see Major Sheppard jogging towards him.
“Hey, Doc, got a minute?”
“Actually, I was just heading in to bed, Major. I...”
Sheppard grasped his elbow and began to drag him down the corridor. “Great. Rodney’s been having some tummy troubles, and I was hoping you could see what’s up.”
Carson dug in his heels, bringing them to a stop and said, “Tummy troubles, Major? I’m sure if it was serious he’d have come to see me in the infirmary.”
Sheppard smirked, “You know how Rodney is, Doc. He’s been so busy trying to save the world, he could be dying of malaria and he wouldn’t stop to see a doctor.”
“Malaria?”
“Yeah, y’know, like space malaria or something. Look, it’s probably nothing, but I’d feel better if you took a look at him.”
Carson sighed and gave the major an exasperated look. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Sheppard said before steering him back down the hall.
After a minute, Carson asked, “Where are we going? Isn’t Rodney in his lab?”
“Er, no. Uh, he’s in the conference room.”
“Why?”
“Um. Dr. Weir wanted to see him about something.”
“I don’t want to bother him while he’s in a meeting. Why don’t I go back to my room and catch a wee kip, and you can come get me when he’s finished?”
“I think it’ll be easier to catch him in a meeting than when he’s knee-deep in Ancient tech, don’t you? Besides, we’re almost there, we might as well go the rest of the way.”
Carson held back his grumbling as Major Sheppard maneuvered him into the conference room.
What he saw there shocked him.
In addition to Rodney and Elizabeth, he saw Ford, Teyla, Radek, Grodin, Biro, even Dr. Kusanagi and the Canadian gate technician whose name Carson could never remember. The conference table had been set with ten place settings, and there were two empty seats. Major Sheppard took one, and gestured for Carson to take the other.
“What’s all this then?” He asked, as he slid into his seat.
Ford stood up and grinned at him, but he didn’t answer. He just said, “Great, now that everyone is here, I guess we can start. Since this was my idea, I guess that makes me the host. So, I’d like to start by welcoming everyone here to the first annual Atlantis Burns Supper.”
Carson sputtered a bit and tried to pretend the choking noises weren’t coming from him.
Ford continued, “I guess this is the part where we say grace. Umm...right, that’s me too.” He looked shyly at Carson. “You’ll have to forgive me if I butcher this but here goes.
”Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some would eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.”
When Ford sat down again, the conference room doors slid open and one of the mess hall cooks came in with a tureen of soup. Carson gasped as a familiar looking substance was ladled into the bowl in front of him.
“Is this Cock-a-Leekie soup?”
Aiden grinned at him. “It’s probably not quite the same, but it was the best we could do.”
Slurping a bit of the broth, Carson declared, “It’s bloody close. How did you manage?”
It was Sheppard who answered this time. “Turns out one of the chefs spent some time in Edinburgh, and he picked up a few tricks there.”
“This is bloody amazing. How did...”
Radek cut him off mid-question. “That is enough, Carson. No more questions. Just enjoy yourself. For tonight, there is no threat of impending doom. We are all here to celebrate the, what was it? The immortal memory.”
Carson thought he was doing fairly well at holding in his questions, but he just couldn’t help himself when the main course was brought in.
“That can’t really be haggis, can it?” He asked, incredulous. “How did you...?” He trailed off.
Teyla spoke up. “Lieutenant Ford described the dish to me, and several of the women of my people worked together to recreate it.”
Carson believed this might have been the most surprising revelation so far. He turned to Aiden. “You know how to make haggis?”
Ford laughed. “Actually I asked Grodin.”
The doctor’s gaze shifted to Peter, who just shrugged and said, “My uncle is Scottish.”
He stared at the Englishman for a moment, until Aiden cleared his throat. Carson looked over at him and saw that he was holding out a sheet of paper. “Thought you might do the honors, Doc.”
Carson took the sheet from Ford, looked down at the familiar words and blinked back his tears before beginning, “Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,/Great chieftan o’ the puddin-race!”
***
A little over an hour later, after they had toasted the almost-haggis and eaten their fill (even Rodney, who had visibly balked at the idea of sheep’s lungs), they went through the loyal toast (a lovely speech by Aiden in praise of Elizabeth), the toast to the immortal memory (humorously given by Elizabeth, the only one other than Carson and Peter to have actually read any of Burns’ work), the toast to the lassies (given by Chuck, the gate technician, who had a wicked, yet gentle, sense of humor), the toast to the laddies (a poetic, and inspiring speech by Teyla) and a recitation of To A Mouse and To A Louse (showcasing the abysmal talents of Drs. McKay and Zelenka at mimicking Scottish dialect). Then they all stood, joined hands and sang Auld Lang Syne, before rushing off to whatever vital projects they had going on.
Chuck and Dr. Grodin stayed behind to clean up as Ford steered Carson out of the room and towards the nearest transporter. Carson was still in a state of shock, and found himself unable to speak while Aiden led him back to his quarters and inside. The lieutenant helped him out of his shoes, jacket, shirt and trousers, and gently pulled him towards the bed.
As Aiden tucked the blankets around him, Carson asked, “How did you know?”
Ford smiled softly and said, “You mentioned Burns Night in your message home, so I did a little research.”
“That’s quite a bit of research you did, son. Thank you. It...it meant a lot to me. I....”
Aiden smoothed his hair back with a gentle hand, “Shh. I know. Get some sleep, okay, Doc?”
Leaning over, the young man placed a soft kiss on Carson’s forehead. Before he slipped into a much needed sleep, Carson thought he heard Aiden say, “You’re worth it, Carson.”
***
A/N: January 25th is the birthday of Scotland’s most celebrated poet, Robert Burns. It’s traditional to celebrate the immortal memory of the bard on his birthday in a celebration that includes much scotch, a bit of haggis and a lot of Burns’ poetry. If you’d like to know more about Burns Suppers, check out the wikipedia entry on the subject.
Italicized text at the beginning comes from “Letters From Pegasus
Title: Till A’ the Seas Gang Dry
Rating: G
Pairing: Beckett/Ford
Spoilers: Letters From Pegasus
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Surprise party for Carson
Author’s Notes: written for the
gatecreation episodes challenge. The title comes from Robert Burns’ “A Red, Red Rose.”Carson shifted uncomfortably on his stool. He’d taken Ford’s advice and tried to tell his mum that he loved her, but he’d started crying, and it had taken him a good five minutes to pull himself together after that.
He was in the middle of his message now, but he still felt a bit odd both talking to his mum when she was literally light-years away and trying to say what he wanted to say in front of the young lieutenant.
“I don’t know when you’ll get this, but I’d guess you’ll be in the midst of preparations for Uncle Gerard’s Burns Supper, so I’ll not keep you long. I’m doing well here, making lots of friends, so there’s no need to worry about me, though I doubt I’ll find anyone to celebrate Burns Night with. The expedition is woefully short on Scots. Say hello to Meg and Charlie, and to Paul and Julia and their wee ones, and to...well, just to everyone. Give them my love. I know you’d be proud of the work we’re doing here. So take care of yourself. Lots of sleep; remember your daily walks; and keep up with your prescription. Well, that's about it. I'll say goodbye now. And, Mum? I do love you.”
When Ford shut off the camera, Carson jumped down from the stool and quickly left the room. If he noticed the strange look the young man was giving him, he didn’t react at all.
He rushed down the corridor to his quarters, not pausing until the door was safely shut behind him. Crossing to the door that led out to his balcony, he opened it and stepped out into the cool ocean air. After shutting the door behind him, he slid to the ground and let the tears come.
It was foolish, he knew, to let something like a message to his mum get him so worked up. He should be happy, really. The news that they’d be allowed to send personal messages home had come as a complete surprise. After months of believing they might be stuck here forever with no way to ever contact their loved ones again, well, it was a miracle really.
But it only served to highlight for Carson just how far from home he really was. This Friday would be January 25th, Burns Night. And though it had been years since Carson had attended a Burns Supper, the realization that he wouldn’t have the option, for what would in all likelihood be his last ever January, left him feeling utterly gutted.
As he sat, with his head in his hands, on the cold floor of his balcony, overlooking an ocean at once alien and familiar, he prayed that their last stand would be enough to keep the Wraith from Earth, even if they were never
to return to it.
***
The next few days were hectic for Carson, news of the Wraith ships on their way to Atlantis had most of the population in a barely contained panic. The infirmary had never been so busy. Before Carson knew it, Friday had come. The traffic in the infirmary had slowed in the afternoon, but it was still well past dinner time when he finally stumbled towards his quarters.
He was just about to open the door when he heard a familiar voice calling his name. He turned to see Major Sheppard jogging towards him.
“Hey, Doc, got a minute?”
“Actually, I was just heading in to bed, Major. I...”
Sheppard grasped his elbow and began to drag him down the corridor. “Great. Rodney’s been having some tummy troubles, and I was hoping you could see what’s up.”
Carson dug in his heels, bringing them to a stop and said, “Tummy troubles, Major? I’m sure if it was serious he’d have come to see me in the infirmary.”
Sheppard smirked, “You know how Rodney is, Doc. He’s been so busy trying to save the world, he could be dying of malaria and he wouldn’t stop to see a doctor.”
“Malaria?”
“Yeah, y’know, like space malaria or something. Look, it’s probably nothing, but I’d feel better if you took a look at him.”
Carson sighed and gave the major an exasperated look. “Fine, I’ll go.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Sheppard said before steering him back down the hall.
After a minute, Carson asked, “Where are we going? Isn’t Rodney in his lab?”
“Er, no. Uh, he’s in the conference room.”
“Why?”
“Um. Dr. Weir wanted to see him about something.”
“I don’t want to bother him while he’s in a meeting. Why don’t I go back to my room and catch a wee kip, and you can come get me when he’s finished?”
“I think it’ll be easier to catch him in a meeting than when he’s knee-deep in Ancient tech, don’t you? Besides, we’re almost there, we might as well go the rest of the way.”
Carson held back his grumbling as Major Sheppard maneuvered him into the conference room.
What he saw there shocked him.
In addition to Rodney and Elizabeth, he saw Ford, Teyla, Radek, Grodin, Biro, even Dr. Kusanagi and the Canadian gate technician whose name Carson could never remember. The conference table had been set with ten place settings, and there were two empty seats. Major Sheppard took one, and gestured for Carson to take the other.
“What’s all this then?” He asked, as he slid into his seat.
Ford stood up and grinned at him, but he didn’t answer. He just said, “Great, now that everyone is here, I guess we can start. Since this was my idea, I guess that makes me the host. So, I’d like to start by welcoming everyone here to the first annual Atlantis Burns Supper.”
Carson sputtered a bit and tried to pretend the choking noises weren’t coming from him.
Ford continued, “I guess this is the part where we say grace. Umm...right, that’s me too.” He looked shyly at Carson. “You’ll have to forgive me if I butcher this but here goes.
”Some hae meat and canna eat,
And some would eat that want it;
But we hae meat, and we can eat,
And sae the Lord be thankit.”
When Ford sat down again, the conference room doors slid open and one of the mess hall cooks came in with a tureen of soup. Carson gasped as a familiar looking substance was ladled into the bowl in front of him.
“Is this Cock-a-Leekie soup?”
Aiden grinned at him. “It’s probably not quite the same, but it was the best we could do.”
Slurping a bit of the broth, Carson declared, “It’s bloody close. How did you manage?”
It was Sheppard who answered this time. “Turns out one of the chefs spent some time in Edinburgh, and he picked up a few tricks there.”
“This is bloody amazing. How did...”
Radek cut him off mid-question. “That is enough, Carson. No more questions. Just enjoy yourself. For tonight, there is no threat of impending doom. We are all here to celebrate the, what was it? The immortal memory.”
Carson thought he was doing fairly well at holding in his questions, but he just couldn’t help himself when the main course was brought in.
“That can’t really be haggis, can it?” He asked, incredulous. “How did you...?” He trailed off.
Teyla spoke up. “Lieutenant Ford described the dish to me, and several of the women of my people worked together to recreate it.”
Carson believed this might have been the most surprising revelation so far. He turned to Aiden. “You know how to make haggis?”
Ford laughed. “Actually I asked Grodin.”
The doctor’s gaze shifted to Peter, who just shrugged and said, “My uncle is Scottish.”
He stared at the Englishman for a moment, until Aiden cleared his throat. Carson looked over at him and saw that he was holding out a sheet of paper. “Thought you might do the honors, Doc.”
Carson took the sheet from Ford, looked down at the familiar words and blinked back his tears before beginning, “Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,/Great chieftan o’ the puddin-race!”
***
A little over an hour later, after they had toasted the almost-haggis and eaten their fill (even Rodney, who had visibly balked at the idea of sheep’s lungs), they went through the loyal toast (a lovely speech by Aiden in praise of Elizabeth), the toast to the immortal memory (humorously given by Elizabeth, the only one other than Carson and Peter to have actually read any of Burns’ work), the toast to the lassies (given by Chuck, the gate technician, who had a wicked, yet gentle, sense of humor), the toast to the laddies (a poetic, and inspiring speech by Teyla) and a recitation of To A Mouse and To A Louse (showcasing the abysmal talents of Drs. McKay and Zelenka at mimicking Scottish dialect). Then they all stood, joined hands and sang Auld Lang Syne, before rushing off to whatever vital projects they had going on.
Chuck and Dr. Grodin stayed behind to clean up as Ford steered Carson out of the room and towards the nearest transporter. Carson was still in a state of shock, and found himself unable to speak while Aiden led him back to his quarters and inside. The lieutenant helped him out of his shoes, jacket, shirt and trousers, and gently pulled him towards the bed.
As Aiden tucked the blankets around him, Carson asked, “How did you know?”
Ford smiled softly and said, “You mentioned Burns Night in your message home, so I did a little research.”
“That’s quite a bit of research you did, son. Thank you. It...it meant a lot to me. I....”
Aiden smoothed his hair back with a gentle hand, “Shh. I know. Get some sleep, okay, Doc?”
Leaning over, the young man placed a soft kiss on Carson’s forehead. Before he slipped into a much needed sleep, Carson thought he heard Aiden say, “You’re worth it, Carson.”
***
A/N: January 25th is the birthday of Scotland’s most celebrated poet, Robert Burns. It’s traditional to celebrate the immortal memory of the bard on his birthday in a celebration that includes much scotch, a bit of haggis and a lot of Burns’ poetry. If you’d like to know more about Burns Suppers, check out the wikipedia entry on the subject.
Italicized text at the beginning comes from “Letters From Pegasus
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