Adrift: Part One
Title: Adrift
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for
cosmonaut_elf as part of the
icaw ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time).
Authors Note: Written unapologetically in British English and betaed to match by my lovely Dons, Geeks and Medics. Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
All music tracks are from the album Ringleader of the Tormentors by Morrissey.
Enjoy
cosmonaut_elf!
Part One
The four men walking through the door of the tavern were certainly not there for a beauty pageant. Evidence of a hard, tough existence was written across their bodies and faces. All of them were heavily built and muscular, wearing an assortment of body armour that showed they had travelled far across the Pegasus Galaxy and carrying the sort of armament that suggested that they had fought their way across most of it.
They were striking - the one at the front of the group sported a face tattoo of swirls and lines that covered half his face from forehead to chin, with braided hair to match. His second was marked by a livid scar that ran lengthways, from the hairline of his close cropped skull, across his face, an eye-patch testifying to the damage caused by its passage. The others looked as though they had been in one too many tavern brawls and had enjoyed it.
In short a motley crew, that if they had turned up in a small community anywhere on Earth would have had people screaming for the local law enforcement.
Here on M 96X4 no-one took the slightest bit of notice.
Even Carson Beckett spared them no more than a glance as they made their way to the long bar that dominated the big single story building. The tavern was the largest building in the settlement and served as a de facto community centre, which is why Beckett was now seated in one corner of the room, his attention returned to the toddler sitting on his lap.
She was a blonde haired moppet but certainly not adorable. Unfortunately she was the very last of a very long line of little ones and her time waiting had taught her that the nice smiley man was not as nice as he appeared. Carson and her harried mother were trying to persuade her to sit still while he prepared swab and syringe. Finally she stilled just enough for a fraction of a second and Beckett completed the final vaccination of the day. Her howl of outrage was quickly stilled by the local equivalent of a lollipop and Beckett thankfully handed her back to her mother, tears still running down her face.
Beckett sighed and stretched his neck slightly to remove a kink. The Lanteans were here on trade but this time it was for information rather than hard currency or goods, and experience had taught them that a soft approach offering medical aid to a community often brought the greatest rewards.
In this case it was yet another hunt for one of the elusive ZPM's sorely needed by Atlantis. They had used the Ancient database to find a site where one had certainly once been installed, and it was also apparent that it had been removed very recently. Carefully gathered evidence had led them here, to this major trade nexus frequented by many different peoples, where they were hoping to trace it on.
The place was a hive of activity - they had all got used to the frequent noise of the nearby Stargate opening. Unusually the settlement was built by the Stargate, a very rare occurrence in the Pegasus Galaxy where distance bought a little safety from a Wraith culling, but beneath their feet was a network of tunnels to which the townsfolk entrusted that some would always get away.
Dr Elizabeth Weir and Lt. Colonel John Sheppard were there too - they were currently in the local equivalent of the town hall signing agreements, asking gently probing questions and being wined and dined. Carson had landed grunt duty and after a long day his security team were as fed up and tired as he was. His team of three were scattered about the building. Sitting on the nearest bench was Ramirez, who he could see was eyeing the foaming tankards of beer being handed across the bar while he took a disconsolate sip from his regulation water bottle. Carson, in sympathy, had already decided to order a few jugs for their return to Atlantis.
.
He began to carefully pack up the medical supplies in his back pack and now took the opportunity to check out the other inhabitants of the place as the day time trade gave way to night. The most interesting of the newly arrived groups at the bar had now split into two. A couple of them were busily tackling jugs of beer, the others were approaching each of the occupied tables in turn. A common practise here, checking out who was trading and what was on offer. The leader, or so he assumed, was carrying something in his hands, which would most likely be metal currency bars or perhaps a trade charter from another trading post to prove his credentials.
Carson was not surprised when Tattoo approached his table. He studied the extravagant design, wondering whether he had had it done without anaesthetic and how he had avoided infection. The man looked tough enough not to have cared about either.
“You here for trade?” The man had a gruff voice to match his fearsome appearance.
“Concluded, thank you. I'm dispensing medical treatment as payment. The leader of our group would be interested in talking to you depending on what you are offering.”
Carson was friendly but guarded - places like this always triggered memories of those scenes in Hollywood movies where it took little to provoke flying fists, tables and general mayhem.
“We look for opportunities, a chance to turn a bit of profit. Sometimes trade is thin and sometimes, well, we just strike pure gold.”
He smiled then, in a way that made the hairs ride up on the back of Carson's neck, and put the objects in his hands down on the table. Carson recognised them immediately - it was an Ancient scanner and display tablet, the mirror of the ones that Sheppard had shown him on the planet of the Tower. The display was flashing.
It was telling the man in front of him that he possessed the ATA gene in no uncertain terms. Carson glanced at Ramirez who had been watching the exchange closely, although he would not fully understand the significance of the scanner. Ramirez immediately went to pull up his P90, an action mirrored by the other two members of the security detail, but it was too late. Stunner shots rang out across the building, all four members of the group were shooting anyone that moved, let alone reached for a weapon. They were good - soon only the new party were standing, everyone else was either slumped across the tables or hiding under them.
Carson had not moved, he had not been able to - the big man in front of him had effectively trapped him in the corner, but he had taken the action that he could, activating his earpiece and informing Sheppard that there was a problem at the tavern. The Lanteans were now on their way.
Tattoo now holstered his weapon and picked up the display scanner, tapping it with a finger as though to crudely check its accuracy, then held it up to show the others.
“Yep - sometimes we just get real lucky and hit pay-dirt and boys, today is one of those lucky days.”
Eye-Patch now stepped up beside Tattoo. He was leering at Carson with the sort of smile that meant a whole world of trouble and had produced a length of thin rope.
Oh Crap!
TBC
Next Part
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for
cosmonaut_elf as part of the
icaw ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time).
Authors Note: Written unapologetically in British English and betaed to match by my lovely Dons, Geeks and Medics. Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
All music tracks are from the album Ringleader of the Tormentors by Morrissey.
Enjoy
cosmonaut_elf!
Part One
The four men walking through the door of the tavern were certainly not there for a beauty pageant. Evidence of a hard, tough existence was written across their bodies and faces. All of them were heavily built and muscular, wearing an assortment of body armour that showed they had travelled far across the Pegasus Galaxy and carrying the sort of armament that suggested that they had fought their way across most of it.
They were striking - the one at the front of the group sported a face tattoo of swirls and lines that covered half his face from forehead to chin, with braided hair to match. His second was marked by a livid scar that ran lengthways, from the hairline of his close cropped skull, across his face, an eye-patch testifying to the damage caused by its passage. The others looked as though they had been in one too many tavern brawls and had enjoyed it.
In short a motley crew, that if they had turned up in a small community anywhere on Earth would have had people screaming for the local law enforcement.
Here on M 96X4 no-one took the slightest bit of notice.
Even Carson Beckett spared them no more than a glance as they made their way to the long bar that dominated the big single story building. The tavern was the largest building in the settlement and served as a de facto community centre, which is why Beckett was now seated in one corner of the room, his attention returned to the toddler sitting on his lap.
She was a blonde haired moppet but certainly not adorable. Unfortunately she was the very last of a very long line of little ones and her time waiting had taught her that the nice smiley man was not as nice as he appeared. Carson and her harried mother were trying to persuade her to sit still while he prepared swab and syringe. Finally she stilled just enough for a fraction of a second and Beckett completed the final vaccination of the day. Her howl of outrage was quickly stilled by the local equivalent of a lollipop and Beckett thankfully handed her back to her mother, tears still running down her face.
Beckett sighed and stretched his neck slightly to remove a kink. The Lanteans were here on trade but this time it was for information rather than hard currency or goods, and experience had taught them that a soft approach offering medical aid to a community often brought the greatest rewards.
In this case it was yet another hunt for one of the elusive ZPM's sorely needed by Atlantis. They had used the Ancient database to find a site where one had certainly once been installed, and it was also apparent that it had been removed very recently. Carefully gathered evidence had led them here, to this major trade nexus frequented by many different peoples, where they were hoping to trace it on.
The place was a hive of activity - they had all got used to the frequent noise of the nearby Stargate opening. Unusually the settlement was built by the Stargate, a very rare occurrence in the Pegasus Galaxy where distance bought a little safety from a Wraith culling, but beneath their feet was a network of tunnels to which the townsfolk entrusted that some would always get away.
Dr Elizabeth Weir and Lt. Colonel John Sheppard were there too - they were currently in the local equivalent of the town hall signing agreements, asking gently probing questions and being wined and dined. Carson had landed grunt duty and after a long day his security team were as fed up and tired as he was. His team of three were scattered about the building. Sitting on the nearest bench was Ramirez, who he could see was eyeing the foaming tankards of beer being handed across the bar while he took a disconsolate sip from his regulation water bottle. Carson, in sympathy, had already decided to order a few jugs for their return to Atlantis.
.
He began to carefully pack up the medical supplies in his back pack and now took the opportunity to check out the other inhabitants of the place as the day time trade gave way to night. The most interesting of the newly arrived groups at the bar had now split into two. A couple of them were busily tackling jugs of beer, the others were approaching each of the occupied tables in turn. A common practise here, checking out who was trading and what was on offer. The leader, or so he assumed, was carrying something in his hands, which would most likely be metal currency bars or perhaps a trade charter from another trading post to prove his credentials.
Carson was not surprised when Tattoo approached his table. He studied the extravagant design, wondering whether he had had it done without anaesthetic and how he had avoided infection. The man looked tough enough not to have cared about either.
“You here for trade?” The man had a gruff voice to match his fearsome appearance.
“Concluded, thank you. I'm dispensing medical treatment as payment. The leader of our group would be interested in talking to you depending on what you are offering.”
Carson was friendly but guarded - places like this always triggered memories of those scenes in Hollywood movies where it took little to provoke flying fists, tables and general mayhem.
“We look for opportunities, a chance to turn a bit of profit. Sometimes trade is thin and sometimes, well, we just strike pure gold.”
He smiled then, in a way that made the hairs ride up on the back of Carson's neck, and put the objects in his hands down on the table. Carson recognised them immediately - it was an Ancient scanner and display tablet, the mirror of the ones that Sheppard had shown him on the planet of the Tower. The display was flashing.
It was telling the man in front of him that he possessed the ATA gene in no uncertain terms. Carson glanced at Ramirez who had been watching the exchange closely, although he would not fully understand the significance of the scanner. Ramirez immediately went to pull up his P90, an action mirrored by the other two members of the security detail, but it was too late. Stunner shots rang out across the building, all four members of the group were shooting anyone that moved, let alone reached for a weapon. They were good - soon only the new party were standing, everyone else was either slumped across the tables or hiding under them.
Carson had not moved, he had not been able to - the big man in front of him had effectively trapped him in the corner, but he had taken the action that he could, activating his earpiece and informing Sheppard that there was a problem at the tavern. The Lanteans were now on their way.
Tattoo now holstered his weapon and picked up the display scanner, tapping it with a finger as though to crudely check its accuracy, then held it up to show the others.
“Yep - sometimes we just get real lucky and hit pay-dirt and boys, today is one of those lucky days.”
Eye-Patch now stepped up beside Tattoo. He was leering at Carson with the sort of smile that meant a whole world of trouble and had produced a length of thin rope.
Oh Crap!
TBC
Next Part