Part 12

McKay sat up in bed, carefully eating red Jello. The rest of the city was eating premium groceries from Earth and he was stuck with red Jello. Not even blue. Blue was his favorite. But oh no, his nurse gave him red. Carson really needed to talk to his staff about keeping patients happy.

He scowled at Sheppard, who sat beside him eating a steak and cheese submarine sandwich which oozed grilled ions and peppers and messy globs of yellow cheese.

McKay plotted his revenge as his Jello jiggled off his spoon and back into the bowl to wiggle next to the other squares.

Sheppard laughed around a mouthful of steak and cheese, being careful to keep the soggy bread from dripping off his plate and onto his legs.

The sounds of a step followed by a clump and a step then clump were heard.

"He lost them already?" Sheppard mumbled around a mouthful of steak

"You seen'im since you dropped off his letters?"

"Yeah, he finally passed out in his quarters for about four hours. Ronan made himself welcome in there and played with models of molecules and some other weird shit Doc's collected." Sheppard opened his mouth wide and shoved another heavy bite into his mouth. Juice ran down his chin and from the soggy bottom of the bread.

"You're disgusting," McKay muttered. "You learn that from Ronan?"

Sheppard mumbled and nodded, trying to swallow some of what was in his mouth so he could take a sip of his soda. Coke was suddenly the nectar of the Gods and was something they could cut Zelenka's moonshine with when they met for Friday night 'meetings'.

The two watched as Beckett hobbled into the infirmary reading a letter and laughing. "The daftie," he chuckled, "there isn't no way he's gonna get Malcolm to go along with that scheme." Beckett walked deeper into the room intent on his letter and unaware of the hostile looks he was garnering from his medical staff as he headed for his office.

"Carson, that's not a walking cast," the quiet, unassuming, dark skinned doctor straightened up from his computer monitor adopting an air of intimidation.

Sheppard and McKay both leaned back against their respective back rests to watch the show.

Beckett merely nodded still absorbed in his letter. "Oh, uncle Liam is going to nail his hide to barn door," he chuckled, flipping the letter over and then upside down to continue reading.

"Carson!" The dark skinned doctor raised his voice.

Sheppard and McKay both shared surprised looks. They had never heard that man raise his voice.

"Aye, laddie, what is the problem?" Beckett asked, peering up from his letter, an easy smile lighting his face.

"Your crutches? Where are your crutches?"

Sheppard and McKay snickered as Beckett peered down at his sides as if suddenly realizing he didn't have them and looked around the room as if searching for them, "I have no idea? Do you?"

"Get your butt in a chair and put that leg up until I wrangle up another set."

"Aye, you're a bit growly this evening, lad," Carson pointed out and then simply turned his direction toward McKay and Sheppard.

"Rodney, how's the side?" Beckett pulled a chair out from against the wall and settled it near the foot of Rodney's bed, still reading one of his letters.

"I'm fine, when do I get to eat real food?" McKay asked, trying to scoop up another wiggling jello square.

Beckett looked up from his letter, "Red? I thought you preferred blue?"

"Shut up, Carson," McKay snapped.

"You get through all of'em, Doc?" Sheppard asked, jutting his chin toward the letter.

"No, it'll take some time, Auntie Reynolds, here, is a bit wordy, but she can spin a yarn. Says here cousin Peter bet our second cousin Henry he couldn't jump ole Flash over the stock tanks." Carson looked up and shook his head, "he can't, Flash is afraid of water. He'd rather go down a ravine and walk three miles than cross a creek. But she said Henry gave it a try. But poor Flash hooked a leg, ended up in the lambing pen. Seems Henry broke his fall with his ribs on the fence, busted out the dams and the wee ones got out all over the countryside." Beckett laughed, "Uncle Liam'll keel haul'em." The doctor paused thinking about something and then returned his attention back to the two men, "Not too sure that's worth a pint of Guiness down the pub. Though Harrison keeps a mighty fine pub, indeed."

"Sounds like a good group," Sheppard remarked.

"Aye, they're some of the best; a bit daft at times, but hard working."

Beckett leaned back in his chair and folded his letter away, "I never wrote mum this time around, she'll worry. I should've wrote something."

"Heck, doc, not to worry. Rodney, Zelenka and I wrote your mom and sent them off before the Daedalus could leave. Seems the Daedalus was delayed do to some computer snafu or something." Sheppard's mischievous smile landed on Rodney.

McKay leaned back against his pillows with a self satisfied smile, "Well, if they ran regular maintenance checks like they should have, they might have been able to prevent such things from happening. Colonel Caldwell should really know better."

Carson stared from one man to the other, "You wrote my mum?"

"Well, damn Carson, if she mopes around anything like you do, the people in your little town would probably all pack up and head out."

Beckett narrowed his eyes at the two men, "What'd you write?"

"That's personal," Rodney pointed out.

Sheppard slouched down in his chair and propped his legs up on Rodney's bed. McKay scowled and tried to nudge Sheppard's legs away with his blanketed knee. The colonel ignored him and spoke to Beckett. "Well I told her you were an okay guy; how good looking I am; how much I like her cooking." Sheppard clearly hoped Mrs. Beckett picked up the hint. Knowing her son though, he was worried. He continued, "it was a heck of a lot better than what McKay wrote. His read like a resume. Poor lady's eyes are going to bleed when she reads his dry chicken scratch. Zelenka talked about his brother that fishes somewhere up there, occasionally docks off Thurso in bad weather."

Carson just stared at the two men, "You wrote my mum?" He leaned back in his chair with his light yellow casted leg propped up on Rodney's bed next to Sheppard's crossed ankles. He stared at the ceiling, "Thank you."

"It's nothing," Sheppard answered.

"Hey, do I look like a foot stool?" McKay grumbled once again trying to knock Sheppard's feet off his bed.

"No, more like an ottoman," Beckett chuckled.

"Not a very comfortable one either," Sheppard remarked sliding his feet just out of McKay's range; to drive the man nuts.

McKay harrumphed and settled back against his pillows, taking his small plastic bowl of Jello with him.

"Maybe she'll send a bigger care package next time around," Rodney hoped, stabbing futilely at his Jello. "Make up for last month of not getting one."

Beckett smiled and stared at the ceiling for a bit before allowing his eyes to settle close.

——————————————————————

A month later

Dr. Beckett held his medium sized cardboard box with a letter lying free on top. A grin stretched from ear to ear. He was the envy of the city on mail day.

He settled back in his chair, not listening to the names that were called as he stared at the box hardly able to wait to open it in private.

He rubbed his good foot absently against his slightly charred cast. He caught his shoe on the corner of the duct tape that began to peel from the patch job he had done on the heel. He absently scratched at his shin where he had cut the wedge out of the cast to facilitate the flexing of his knee and to stop the ache that had begun weeks ago. He wouldn't let them change his cast, he had it broken in to where it was almost comfortable.

Carson snapped his head up when he heard McKay's name get called. When McKay remained rooted in place, Davis was forced to repeat it. It took Sheppard nudging the man in the ribs to get him to stand. Beckett watched as McKay stood up, bowed to the applause and ambled up to receive his almost unexpected package. Carson had hoped his mum would write his friend back. Rodney never got mail. It was a sad fact of life. Beckett chuckled, pleased to see the cheeky grin that was plastered on McKay's face. He was going to be insufferable now.

"Who sent you something?" Sheppard asked, trying to lean over Rodney's shoulder and read the return address of the letter and box as McKay took his seat.

"Mrs. Beckett," McKay answered glibly, pulling his mail in closer to his body, shielding it from the Colonel's potentially 'sticky' fingers. "Guess she liked my letter better after all."

Sheppard was about to retort when his name was called. In no time he too returned with a similar box and letter.

"Hey, what'd you get?" McKay asked slightly concerned.

"Get your paws off my stuff," Sheppard tucked his box partially under his arm and turned slightly away, protecting his mail with his body. "Think maybe she appreciated my friendly turn of phrase, better than yours," the colonel taunted.

Beckett watched them, not sure if he liked the idea that his mother was sending those two care packages and letters.

The three some sat in the back and tried to judge, without opening their plain brown, slightly re-used cardboard boxes, who had the better box.

The three immediately shut up when Zelenka's name was called and he too returned with a similar box marred with old tape scars, from Mrs. Beckett. Radek smiled triumphantly at the others, "Perhaps she enjoys missives from a fellow fisherman."

"She's just being polite to you two," McKay stated keeping his box close and letter tightly gripped in his other hand.

"Uh huh," Sheppard dismissed. He pushed himself off the wall, "I'm gonna see you boys later, I've got mail to open," Sheppard smiled smugly, shaking his box but suddenly froze. "Damn this is heavy," he stated with concern. A knowing smile and pleased gaze met McKay's narrowing eyes. "She must like me better."

"She does not." Rodney snapped back, following the Colonel out of the cafeteria with throngs of others. "I'm the genius."

"She's not gonna care about that. She raised Carson, he's freakishly smart like you," Sheppard explained.

Beckett raised his eyebrows at the comment, not sure if he felt insulted or complimented.

"He doesn't count, that's not science. It's---it's---it's like voodoo," McKay explained with disgust dripping from every stuttered word.

Beckett decided he felt insulted.

"Think what you like McKay, but my package is bigger," Sheppard returned with a leery tone.

"Oh, that's just juvenile," McKay's response floated back to Beckett and Zelenka.

"Your mother is a kind lady," Zelenka said, placing his letters from home in his coat pocket and hefting his care package from Scotland.

"Aye, that she is," Beckett answered softly. He pushed himself to his feet and gathered his letters, the pile not near as large as last month.

"When does the rest of cast come off?" Zelenka walked beside the doctor at the CMO's pace. There was a running tally to see if the cast would last the full eight weeks, fall apart, or if Carson would just finish cutting it completely off instead of a piece at a time.

They were working on four weeks and already the cast was duct taped, partially charred thanks to Rodney and one of his requests to test an ancient device, and had significant pieces cut out of it.

"I know of your betting pool, Radek," Beckett chuckled. The two followed the moving crowd down the hall, heading for their respective labs and living quarters.

Tonight there would be a congealing of different groups who would spend part of the evening swapping and trading items from their care packages for something someone else had received.

O'Connor was always good for candy bars, something called 'Take Fives'. He had detested them but his mother sent them anyhow. He used to trade with Franklin from the linguistic group for Pop Tarts. Sullivan used to trade Rice Krispy Treats for Beckett's Chupa Chups lollies. Beckett still couldn't understand what Joey Sullivan loved about that particular brand of lolly. This time he would keep his lollies and perhaps hand them out the Athosian kids when they came in for treatment for whatever small calamity that befell them.

The crowed had thinned and dispersed as he and Zelenka rounded the corridor. They were in time to hear McKay and Sheppard arguing over their mail and what the letters might contain and who Mrs. Beckett thought wrote the best letter.

"Good luck, Dr. Beckett," Zelenka whispered solemnly, he turned right at this juncture to get to his quarters.

Carson nodded, took a breath and then continued forward, "Thanks." He watched as Sheppard made a half hearted grab for McKay's box, but McKay gracefully side stepped it and twisted away.

Beckett noted the movement and was pleased to see that Rodney's wound had healed so completely.

His heart raced at the flashing image of the black scaled monster that had nearly killed them.

He held his care package a little tighter, feeling strange sense of comfort from it. He continued down the corridor toward the badgering duo.

"Mum always had the dreadful habit of feeding strays," Beckett mumbled shaking his head as he hobbled past the two men, "never could keep her from it. Uglier and needier they were, the more she took'em in." Carson sighed and ignored the two men who stopped their foolishness and stared back at him. He released a put upon sigh, "Think she's found two more." He shook his head despondently and kept walking. His cast made a soft thud as the thinned and missing fiberglass and cotton padding hidden under layers of duct tape made contact with the floor.

"He call us strays?" Sheppard asked.

"I think just you," McKay confirmed.

"No, you were included." Sheppard clarified.

The two stared at one another and then the receding back of the Doctor, "Hey!"

The two jogged to catch up with the slowly ambling doctor. McKay gave Beckett's shoulder a push as Sheppard shoved Beckett's head forward.

"Strays my ass," Sheppard muttered.

"I'm a genius, not some flea infested barn cat," McKay clarified.

The three disappeared down the hall unconcerned for the moment of what dangers lay ahead of them in the future.

-The end.