Epilogue

If not for the fact that she knew just how capable and competent they were, Doctor Elizabeth Weir would have decided that the group she saw when she walked into the main lounge area was the sorriest looking group of miscreants she'd ever seen. She paused at the doorway, taking a moment to watch them, a smile on her face that had been there ever since she'd heard that the incapacitation of Sheppard and the others wasn't caused by injury, but by too much partying. And now they were definitely paying the price of that folly.

All of them had woken up from their drink-induced comas with pounding heads, blurry vision and overly sensitive hearing. They'd all wanted to go to their quarters, but Carson had mentioned a concern of alcohol poisoning, and he wanted to keep an eye on them until they were completely over their symptoms, so instead of keeping them in the infirmary, he allowed them to go into the lounge so they could be a little more comfortable. There were sofas in there, after all, where they could stretch out and either continue their naps, or they could watch the few videos that had been brought from home by various members of the Atlantis expedition.

They were all on one sofa, looking a little cramped, but snug at least. Beckett was at the end of the sofa – probably he'd sat there to keep an eye on everyone else, including Mitchell, who was next to him. She wasn't sitting in proper fashion on the sofa, Weir saw. She was sitting sideways, her back leaning into Beckett's side, and her right knee tucked casually up to her chest. Her broken left leg – now encased in an air cast until Talon could mend it – was stretched out across the knees of the two people sitting next to her, and her eyes were closed – although they'd opened for a moment when Weir walked into the doorway. Then she'd closed them again, and leaned her head back against the back of the couch – and Carson Beckett.

Weir wondered if those two had something going on between them. Not that it was any of her business, of course, but she couldn't help but be nosy enough to wonder. They certainly weren't a match she'd have considered – Mitchell and Major Sheppard, maybe, since John Sheppard undoubtedly had far more in common with the Colonel than Doctor Beckett did – but although she joked easily with Sheppard and the others, Carson was the only one she'd ever heard Mitchell call by his first name. Of course, it might just be her imagination, too. It wasn't like the two of them were groping each other on the sofa, after all. She pushed that nosiness aside, and regarded the others.

Lieutenant Ford was next to Mitchell, and he wasn't awake as near as Weir could tell. He was leaning against Melony's right leg, his feet on the floor, his head resting on her knee and his left arm wrapped around it, cuddling against her like a miserable child might cuddle his stuffed toy. Of course, Weir knew that Mitchell and Ford had known each other for quite some time, so this didn't make her wonder about their relationship at all. Ford was Mitchell's friend, nothing more.

Beside Ford and taking the last of Mitchell's broken leg was Rodney McKay. He was sitting upright, and Weir was pretty sure he was awake, although his entire face was hidden by a wet towel that had once been an icepack. The fact that his hand was still pressed tightly against his head told Weir that he was awake, and that he was probably still feeling pretty miserable. Water had stained the shirt he was wearing a darker blue, and she wondered if she should get him a blanket – although it wasn't cold by any means.

Sheppard was another one that Weir wasn't sure whether he was awake or not. He was sitting next to McKay, and was leaning back against the sofa, his head hanging over the back of it, his eyes closed and his face pinched with pain. On his wrist was a brand new cast – Beckett had taken the opportunity while he was passed out to set the bone in his hand and take x-rays to make sure they were all where they were supposed to be. Weir wondered how the Major had managed to break his hand. All she'd gotten from Beckett in the few minutes she'd talked to him was some crazy story about a great big bird dropping them or something. She was pretty sure she'd have a more believable story once they were awake.

Next to John was Teyla. She had the end of the sofa and was stretched out a bit more than anyone else – except maybe Mitchell. Her legs were across Sheppard's thighs, and McKay's lap was the recipient of her feet as well as Mitchell's. The Athosian's long hair was streaming over the side of the sofa – she had her head resting on the arm of it, and from this angle, Weir wasn't sure if her eyes were open, so she couldn't tell if she was awake, either.

All in all, they looked terrible – although none of them were in danger, and that was a definite relief to Weir – who'd been getting worried about them when she hadn't heard back from them in the usual two day's time.

She walked into the room, catching Beckett's attention first, since he was the only one with his eyes actually open. His gaze went to the miserable people beside him and his smile was an amused one. His free hand went to Mitchell's left shoulder – the right one was swathed in bandages – and she opened her eyes again and looked at him, then at Weir as Elizabeth walked over and pulled a chair in front of the sofa so she could sit down and talk to them all. Well as many as would wake up.

Mitchell touched Ford's cheek, and the Lieutenant's eyes opened – then blinked about a dozen times, as if he couldn't focus properly. Mitchell grinned, and Ford showed that he wasn't completely awake and aware when he flipped her the bird with a slightly annoyed look on his face. Mitchell chuckled, and gestured towards Weir. Ford followed the gaze, and saw Weir, and a look of chagrin passed his features, but only for a moment. He was too miserable to care that Weir had caught him flipping off a superior officer, but he did keep his eyes open, and he nudged McKay with a more or less gentle elbow.

McKay grunted, and the noise woke up Sheppard – or at least alerted him to the fact that something was going on. With a pained noise, the Major opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking around with bleary eyes. He saw Weir, scowled at the amused expression on her face, and poked McKay, figuring that if he had to be awake, everyone else might as well be awake, too. He tapped Teyla's leg, and the Athosian muttered something in a language that Weir didn't recognize.

"Good, you're all awake... sort of..."

Weir said, still smiling. She couldn't help it; they looked so terrible. Terribly hung over.

"I'm not awake," McKay said from under his towel. "I'm sleeping. And I'm in the middle of the most awful nightmare... I think my head's going to pop off any minute now."

"Big loss there..." Ford muttered. He wiped his chin, and Weir could see that there was quite a drool puddle on Mitchell's knee, although the Colonel hadn't said anything and probably wouldn't.

"Well, for your information, Lieutenant, I just happen to-"

"McKay, shut up." Sheppard poked him again as Teyla sat upright, rubbing her head and allowing her hair to cascade over her face as she leaned forward. If anything, Weir decided they all looked even more miserable, now that they were awake.

Mitchell smiled as well, but she didn't sit up. For that matter, she didn't move at all, and Weir decided she was probably trying to avoid jarring her shoulder and leg. Since none of the others – mainly Ford and Beckett – showed any inclination to move, it wasn't likely she was going to have to move any time soon, herself, so Weir thought she was probably fine where she was – obviously Mitchell had already decided that.

"Since you're awake," Elizabeth said, leaning forward. "I'd really like to hear more about what happened – where you obtained the supplies and how you were injured."

"She probably wants to know about your wild orgy with the Light Ones, too," Ford said, putting his head back down on Mitchell's knee, but looking over at the three on the other end of the couch with a definite gleam of amusement in his eyes.

McKay pulled the towel off his face, and scowled at Ford, then looked at Weir, and Sheppard was suddenly a bit more focused as well. Even Teyla moved her hair out of her face and looked slightly abashed.

Weir looked at Ford, instinctively knowing that she was going to get more information about this from him than from the others.

"Wild orgy?"

"Don't look at me, ma'am," Ford said, lifting his head again. "Colonel Mitchell and I are the soul of purity... we couldn't keep the others from doing their Captain Kirk imitations, though..."

Mitchell snickered, and Weir looked at her. Her pale eyes were sparkling with amusement, and she was regarding the others with a slight grin. Sheppard sighed, and rubbed his face.

"How about we limit this to where we got the supplies and how we were injured?" He asked.

Weir had to wonder what had happened, but she nodded. It was probably best that way. Besides, she was sure that eventually, if she wanted to hear the whole story, she could pull Lieutenant Ford and Colonel Mitchell aside and get the story from them. Maybe.

"Let's start at the beginning, then," Weir said, pulling out a recorder and pressing the start button. "This should be good..."

The End!

So! The Fourth Mitchell Files is done. A couple quick questions from me... do you think I have the Atlantis characters down well enough to write another story in this series, and do you even want another story? I honestly didn't expect to make more than two but I love writing Atlantis, so if anyone will read it, I'll write it...

Let me know what you liked, and what you didn't. And as always, give me your favorite line... I think I'll make a list of all the favorite lines from my stories... maybe put them in a collection...