Series: Moments Sacred and Profane - Season Two

Title: MSP21: Journey of the Stars

Author: Mice

Email: just_us_mice@yahoo.com

Category: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Beckett

Warnings: slash, angst

Spoilers: season one, The Siege 3, Intruder

Rating: NC17

Summary: Rodney and Carson visit Scotland. Things get better.

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If it isn't and you'd like it, just let me know where you're putting it.

Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall http://www.squidge.org/mice

Mirror: http://mice.inkpress.org

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to many other people. But if they were mine, they'd be having very interesting adventures.

Author's Notes: The poem quoted in the title was written by a poet from the Isle of Skye. I thought it singularly appropriate for the story at hand. Lovely betas by Zortified, kt4ever, chi1013, Pas, Heuradys and Cygnet. BritBeta by fififolle, yay!

~~~

ged a bhiod cuairt nan reul

eadar mi is tu

cha chrion snath-sioda

a chuibhrich thu rium

a cheangail me riut

although the journey of the stars

were between you and me

the thread of silk will not decay

that bound you to me

that tied me to you

~~Aonghas MacNeacail -- from anocht is tu bhuam (tonight you being from me)~~

Rodney ate Carson's sandwich too, seeing as he was asleep, and he certainly wouldn't miss it.

They'd decided to fly first class, since Rodney got restless on long flights, and Carson was exhausted. The seats, at least, were more comfortable, and there was far less chance of having to deal with squalling infants and prattling children with their beeping Gameboys.

The fact that Rodney was nervous about this whole meeting Carson's family thing wasn't going to keep him from enjoying his -- and Carson's -- lunch. It was roast beef, and he'd desperately missed horseradish. In fact, he hadn't had any since before he'd left for Antarctica. It was strange what one started craving when it wasn't available.

Airplanes were so not like Puddlejumpers. No inertial dampeners. No heads up display. No getting to play with the controls. It was annoying, and since Carson was snoring next to him, he couldn't very well complain about it. That was annoying too, but Carson had been awake most of the night with really terrible dreams. Rodney had wrapped himself around his lover, just trying to be there for him, but it hadn't been much help. Carson had fallen asleep again almost as soon as the landing gear went up.

It would be hours before they got to London to change planes. He hoped that Carson would sleep through most of it. He looked exhausted. Rodney was tired too, though not as bad off as Carson seemed to be.

He'd called Jeannie before they left. She'd been apologetic, but said she would write to him, and she hoped they'd talk again before he went back to... wherever. It was weird, but he actually felt like he knew her a little better now. There was a lot of serious strangeness in that, and in wanting to talk to her again. Knowing where she was. Knowing that she gave a shit about him.

He'd never considered that might happen. Rodney had been completely prepared to have her door slammed in his face.

Finishing his sandwich, he looked over at Carson. There were shadows under his eyes. He was tucked under one of those cheap, thin blankets you get on airplanes, a tiny pillow under his head. Rodney looked over to see what the guy across the aisle was doing. Mr. Business was busy reading the Wall Street Journal, so Rodney tucked his hand under Carson's blanket and took his hand.

It was warm, and Carson's fingers twitched, settling around his own. Rodney smiled a little.

Jeannie's question echoed in his head. 'Were you two planning on getting married while you're here?' It had been a shock then, and it still made his intestines want to curl up and crawl off by themselves, but...

But.

He loved Carson. There was no way he was going to deny that -- not after having shouted at his father about it. Everybody else could go screw themselves.

When he asked Carson to live with him, he'd thought they were going to die. He thought they had maybe another couple of weeks left. Yet here they were, sitting on a plane, back on Earth. Visiting each other's families.

It was terrifying.

Rodney figured he should have his head examined, but that would involve Kate Heightmeyer, and really, he so didn't want to go there. He'd been in her office enough this past year for any three people. And there were a lot of things about his relationship with Carson that he just didn't want to share with anyone else. Especially not somebody who was making notes about it. Nope. No way.

Carson murmured and shifted a little and Rodney was tempted to just tug him over and let him sleep with his head on Rodney's shoulder, but that might wake him up. That, and they were in public. Or at least as public as you could get in first class. Still, part of him was seriously tempted.

It had gotten so serious between them. The whole thing tied him in knots, but he was genuinely considering the idea of spending the rest of his life with Carson. And it wasn't just because he figured nobody else would have him, though the thought did cross his mind.

Things were so complicated. They'd been through ludicrous, life-threatening situations together. They'd been mangled and kidnapped and tortured and rescued, and he couldn't even imagine not sleeping next to Carson every night anymore. The thought left him cold. His fingers tightened around Carson's hand, and Carson squeezed back gently.

Okay, so Rodney McKay had never envisioned ending up with a voodoo practitioner, but there were advantages. At least he knew Carson would always be willing to make house calls.

Turbulence rocked the plane and Carson slammed awake with a yip, looking around like the Wraith were after him.

"Hey, easy," Rodney said, resting a hand on Carson's chest for a moment. "It's just a bump."

Carson took a deep breath and settled back down. He squeezed Rodney's hand. "So when will we be getting lunch?" he asked.

"Uh..." Rodney didn't even try to cover up the empty trays in front of them.

Carson looked at the trays and then over at Rodney. "You didn't."

"Um..."

With a sigh, Carson rolled his eyes. "I don't suppose they'd get another one for me, now, would they?"

"Sorry," Rodney muttered.

Carson glared. "No you're not. Don't you even be sayin' that."

"I didn't think you'd wake up until we got to London."

Carson whacked him with the tiny pillow. "Cheeky bugger."

"Hey! I bruise easily!"

"I'll bruise you," Carson grumbled.

"Let's not be hasty, okay?" Rodney reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar. "Peace offering?"

Carson raised an eyebrow. "This is just Hershey's. It's crap. Where are you hiding the good stuff?"

Rodney grumbled and stacked his tray on Carson's tray table, folding his own up. He pulled his carry-on from under the seat and unzipped one of the outside pockets. Fishing around for a moment, he found a Dagoba Eclipse dark bar. "Right. Will this do?" He waved it at Carson.

Carson snatched it. "Oh, I think it's a start." He grinned.

It was disconcerting, the sounds Carson made while he ate the chocolate. Though 'obscene' was probably closer to the truth, if he were going to be honest about it. Rodney tried very hard not to think about kissing the chocolate off Carson's mouth. Really, really bad idea in public. Very bad.

He was probably doing it deliberately, Rodney decided. It would be just like him.

When Carson was done with the chocolate, he licked his fingers. Rodney did *not* moan, but he did tug one of those stupid airline blankets into his lap. "Bitch," he muttered.

About that time the flight attendant came by to get their dead trays. "Would you gentlemen like anything to drink?" she asked.

"Um... uh... yeah. Sure. Coffee," Rodney said.

"I'll have one as well," Carson told her.

Carson licked at his lips a little more, though he hadn't missed anything. "You are so dead," Rodney hissed as the woman continued down the aisle.

Carson just gave him a smug grin. "Next time, love, perhaps you'll let me eat my own lunch."

***

Rodney worried the entire drive from the airport to Carson's mother's place. She'd probably hate him. His life was just like that.

Carson's mother was an elderly grey-haired woman who, Rodney was convinced, had once been blonde. She was thin and had a baggy little face with blue eyes, like Carson's, and she wore huge glasses. She was smiling so hard Rodney thought her face might split, but then, so was Carson the moment he saw her.

He hurried over to her, throwing his arms around her, both of them babbling in Gaelic until Carson said, "Beurla, Mum. Rodney's got no Gaelic."

He'd never been quite so conscious of being *alien* before in his life. Sure, Carson tossed in a few words of it here and there, and he'd been stuck in Gaelic for most of a week after the fire, but this was... Carson had a choice here. Carson could leave him out of a conversation if he wanted to. That felt... strange.

And then Carson's mom was on him like an octopus. "Oooh! And you must be Carson's lad, Rodney! I'm just over the moon to meet you!"

And she laid a big kiss on his cheek and Rodney flushed and stammered, "Pu-uh-pleased to meet you, Mrs. Beckett."

"Oh, you must call me Mum. I'll not have any of this Mrs. Beckett from you. You're family."

Carson was standing there grinning wickedly and Rodney wasn't sure what to say. "Um... right. Mum."

Carson's mother beamed. "Oh, that's so lovely."

She clucked and Carson beamed and she picked up one of the suitcases and Carson picked up another and Rodney grabbed his carry-on and they practically dashed through the tiny front garden into the house. "Oh, everything in your room, Carson," Carson's mother said. "It's all just as you left it!"

Rodney was certain he was in some alternate reality.

"I'll get the tea on," she warbled from the kitchen. She moved like lightning. Carson was still grinning his face off and carrying a suitcase up the stairs. Rodney grabbed his and followed.

"So," Carson asked, breathless, "do you like her?"

"Uh--" Rodney didn't have time to say anything before Carson grabbed him and hugged him, almost squeezing the air out of him.

"Oh, god, I'm so glad to be home!" There were tears in Carson's voice, though Rodney hadn't seen any yet. He could feel Carson vibrating, arms around his waist, and Carson almost giddy with delight.

Rodney couldn't help giving in to it. He hugged back, grinning stupidly himself. He'd never seen Carson so happy and excited before, and it had to be one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen in his life. "I'm glad to be here with you," he said softly.

"I just hope she isn't making haggis," Carson said with a pained chuckle. "She made it for me just before I left for Atlantis. I've never really liked it, but it's her favorite."

"That sheep-guts thing?" Rodney asked, appalled, backing away from Carson.

"Aye, that sheep-guts thing." He rolled his eyes. "Please don't be making faces if she does. It'll just break her heart, and I can't have that."

"Tea's ready!" Carson's mom called up the stairs.

"No lemon, mum!" Carson shouted. "Rodney's allergic to citrus!"

"Oh, aye, I remember," she shouted back.

"We'll be down in a moment," Carson called. He took a deep breath and sat down on the bed. "Come and have a rest, love."

Rodney sat next to him, slipping an arm around him. "Damn. I can't believe we're actually here." Carson's room was small but bright, overlooking the front garden and the street. There were medical textbooks in the bookshelves, mixed in with others on a wide variety of topics. Atop one bookshelf was a battered black and white football. One wall had ribbons on it, though the text was in Gaelic, so Rodney had no idea what they were for -- but there were quite a few of them, largely blue or red. Prizes of some sort, he figured.

The bed was comfortable, with a couple of plaid wool blankets on it. A desk held an old computer and printer, and a framed photo of Carson as a child with his parents and another man. There was an ancient, brown, overstuffed chair in the corner, a couple of embroidered pillows leaning against the arms.

The place looked comfortable, lived in. It rather suited Carson, Rodney thought.

Carson gazed around the room, just taking it all in. "It's so good to be back," he said quietly. "And I'm glad to be bringing you with me."

His accent had gotten a bit thicker in the last few minutes. Rodney hoped he'd still be able to understand him by the end of their holiday.

"I've got blackcurrant jam and fruit scones," Carson's mom called up to them. "Tea's goin' ta get cold if you don't come down soon, lads."

"Aye, Mum, we're coming." Carson stood, tugging on Rodney's hand. "Come on, then. Let's not keep her waiting."

"Hey," Rodney said, standing with him. He leaned in and kissed Carson. Carson grinned. "Thanks."

***

He'd slept on the flight, but Carson was truly exhausted. Tea was more than welcome. He sat in the kitchen -- the same kitchen he'd grown up in -- and could hardly believe he was here with Rodney.

"The scones are lovely, Mum," Carson said, savoring them and knowing he'd not have them again for a long time once he was back in Atlantis. They tasted just as he remembered, with blackcurrant jam and clotted cream, and Mum's tea was just perfect. "I've not had anything near so good in such a long time."

"Oh, Carson," she said, "and it's so good you're home. I've missed you ever so." Her eyes were squinting from all the smiling she was doing. Rodney looked like he'd never even heard of blackcurrant jam before, and was sniffing it dubiously.

"There's no citrus in it, mo leannan," Carson said. "It's perfectly safe for you."

"How do I know I'm not allergic to whatever a blackcurrant is?" He gave Carson an askance look.

"You're not, all right?" He patted Rodney's hand.

Rodney looked up at him. "I was allergic to those... those whatever they were back--" He stopped, not finishing the sentence, and Carson was dragged back to Tannaz and Rodney in anaphylaxis in the fire.

Carson swallowed. "We're not there," he said softly. He squeezed Rodney's hand. Rodney just nodded nervously.

"Carson?" His mum gave them both a look.

"It's okay, Mum," he said. "Rodney just needs to be careful what he eats."

"Well," she said, "I've some bramble that I made myself this month just past, if you'd feel better about that. There's naught in it but some bramble and sugar and some pectin."

"That's berries, right?" Rodney nodded. "Yeah, okay. Berries. I can do that."

She smiled and nodded and got up for the jam. "Oh, and you shouldn't have to worry about anything here, my lad. I'll take care of you, just like your own Mum."

Rodney stiffened a bit and Carson petted him. He knew his mum had no idea what Rodney's life had been like. "It's okay, love. Take a breath."

"Are you well, Rodney?" Mum asked when she gave him the jam. "You look upset. Have I said something wrong, then?"

Rodney leaned a little closer to Carson. "My mother died two years ago. I only found out about it the other day. It's... my family's ...not close."

"Oh," she said softly. "Right enough. Carson told me about your da." She enveloped Rodney in a hug. "You poor wee thing. I'm so sorry."

Rodney let her hug him, then put his arms awkwardly around her, patting her back. "Um... yeah. Thanks, Mrs... uh... Mum." Carson knew he was uncomfortable, but that Rodney was trying so hard touched him deeply. His hand stroked down Rodney's broad back, trying to soothe him a little.

"We've had a very rough year, Mum," Carson told her. "It's... it's been very bad, and we've lost a lot of friends."

She squeezed Rodney again and looked up at Carson. "I thought that might be so from that message you sent me. I've been worried for you."

"I didn't want you to worry, Mum. I'm sorry I can't say much about the last year; I know you want to know."

"Security clearances, Carson," Rodney said softly as Mum stood again and took her seat at the table. Rodney spread some jam on his buttered scone.

"Then I'll just ask you to tell me about yourself and your lad, here," she said. She patted Rodney's arm and looked at him. "You're a fine one, then, aren't you? Astrophysicist, is it? What does one of those do?"

Rodney brightened immediately and launched into a rant on string theory, multiple universes, and wormhole physics, all of which clearly cruised right over Mum's head, but she smiled at him. Carson sighed and sat back, just letting the rightness of it all wash over him with the light through the kitchen window.

Mum fed Rodney more tea and asked about, "worms and strings and do you really think there's one of us in each universe?"

Rodney was clearly unimpressed with her grasp of physics, but the scones and tea were making up for it and he wasn't near so irritable as Carson would have suspected.

"Mum," Carson said quietly, once there was a space for a word. "I'm very tired from the flight and didn't sleep much at all. Would you mind if I went up and got a bit of a kip?"

She smiled. "Oh, of course, luv. You go right ahead."

Rodney nodded. "I think I probably should catch a little sleep myself." He stood, one hand on Carson's shoulder. "Neither of us really slept very well."

"Right enough then, off with you lot." She waved her hand. "I'll call you both down when supper's ready."

"Thanks, Mum." Carson hugged her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head and he and Rodney went back upstairs.

Carson kicked off his shoes and got undressed, slipping into the bed. Rodney did the same, though he looked at Carson with some anxiety. "You sure it's okay to... well, I mean, sleeping together in your mom's house?"

"Well, we're just goin' to sleep at the moment." Carson tugged Rodney close and nuzzled into his neck.

Rodney's fingers slipped through Carson's hair. "Right, does this mean we have to go neck in the woods or something?"

Carson snorted. "No, but I'd really prefer we kept it quiet. I'd rather not have my Mum listening in."

"No shit. That's even more creepy than Jeannie listening in."

"It's not like it's the first time I've had a lad up here," Carson said, grinning.

Rodney sputtered. "What? You what?"

Carson nipped at his shoulder. "You didn't think I was a blushing wee virgin when we met, now, did you?"

"Well no, of course not, but..." Rodney slapped a hand over his eyes. "I really just don't want to think about that. I mean, really." He whimpered. "You didn't really bring guys up here to make out with them, did you?"

"You never brought anyone to your room when you were a lad?"

Rodney glared at him. "I never brought anyone *home*. I was at university when I was fourteen."

"Oh, right," Carson said softly. Before they'd been together, Rodney'd never even spent more than one night with anyone. That still shocked him sometimes.

They snuggled together in Carson's small bed. It was big enough for two, but only barely. Still, it was comfortable and familiar, and it smelled like home in a way that nothing else quite did. The scent of Mum's scones still hung in the air, and something else cooking for dinner. Lamb stew, he thought, and that seemed right to him.

"Thank you," Rodney said, after they'd been quiet for a few minutes. Carson opened his eyes in the late afternoon light.

"For what, love?"

Rodney kissed his cheek. "For bringing me with you. For wanting to bring me with you."

Carson rolled onto his side and leaned up on his elbow, over Rodney. "And why wouldn't I? They're an important part of my life, just as you are. I wouldn't want to be without my family."

Rodney got a frightened look in his eyes for a moment. "But... Atlantis."

Carson shook his head and smiled gently. "Oh, I'm going back with you, right enough. I promise you that."

Rodney relaxed. "I guess I was worried that when you got here, well, you wouldn't want to leave."

"How daft can a genius be?" Carson muttered. He kissed Rodney thoroughly then said, "I told you I love you. When will you believe me?"

Rodney pulled Carson down on top of him and held on tight. "I already do."

"Then stop worrying that I'm like to leave you. Daft bugger." Carson settled on Rodney's chest, comfortable and warm. Being here with his lover was a thing he thought he'd never have. He'd been too afraid of dying to even wish for this.

Rodney's breath played in his hair, the sound of Rodney's heart beating in his ear. It was a good sound, one that lulled Carson slowly toward sleep. He loved hearing it. The sound meant everything was all right. It meant there were no crises, no Wraith in orbit just above their heads, no injuries keeping Rodney in the infirmary.

And when had all that become commonplace? It was a terrible thing to be used to. This was what he wanted to be commonplace, to be his ordinary day -- Rodney with him and the sound of his pulse under Carson's ear.

It was strange to hear the sounds of home again. The traffic going by and Mrs. McQuarrie shouting at her husband in the kitchen next door and dogs barking and the birds in Mum's garden. He was used to Atlantis now, where there was sea and the odd, almost subliminal silence of the city at night.

His fingers moved slowly on Rodney's chest, slipping through the hair there. It was a good feeling, one that made him feel safe and happy. There'd not been enough of that in either of their lives in the last year. To feel it now was a blessing.

Rodney made a pleased sound that rumbled in his chest. "Go to sleep, Carson," he whispered. "You need some rest."

"Right enough," Carson whispered back. He settled with a sigh and let himself drift to sleep.

***

She'd sent Carson off grocery shopping the third day they were there, leaving Rodney alone with Mum. He felt really strange thinking of her that way, but every time he even tried to call her Mrs. Beckett he got a deft verbal slap on the wrist. He figured that was where Carson must have picked up his easy facility with words. She might not know from polynomials, but she had a very sharp wit.

She reminded him a lot of Carson, actually. They had a similar sense of humor. Carson was a little more hovery and slightly more nervous than his mother, but Rodney'd gotten used to that. Carson's mother was probably close to as brilliant as her son, though Rodney would never say anything of the sort.

The thing that truly amused Rodney was seeing that the woman his lover had described as fragile and delicate was, in reality, a cheerful if compact bulldozer of an old lady. She worked in her garden and walked several miles a day. She was also an accomplished musician.

There were several harps in the house, and a couple of violin cases. Carson had said his mother was a music teacher, but it hadn't really sunk in until Rodney'd had a chance to finally get a look at the tiny house. Two bedrooms upstairs, and a kitchen, bathroom and living room downstairs, and that was about it. She hadn't played anything so far, but Rodney figured it was just a matter of time.

"Do come sit with me, Rodney," she called to him from the kitchen. He'd been looking at one of the harps, thinking about strings and music and the Orpheus Box.

"Okay," he said. She had coffee brewing when he got there, the aroma just starting to fill the air. "Oh, good. It's about time," he said.

She waved him down into a chair and he sat. "I've wanted to talk to you a wee bit," she said, sitting with him, "but Carson's always about. He frets so, poor lad. It's like he's afraid he'll misplace you if he's not right there."

"Sometimes he's got reason for it," Rodney admitted. He watched as a flurry of emotions slipped by on her face, unable to decipher them all.

"How bad was it, really?" she asked. "When I saw that message that he sent home, well, it had been cut up a bit by the US government. I could see he was terrified, but he didn't want me to know it. He's always been such a sensitive lad."

"He thinks you're fragile or something, you know," Rodney said.

She nodded. "I know. But better to let him fuss a little. It's just in his nature. I'd always thought he'd be a doctor when he grew up. But I did worry about him." She tilted her head and looked at him, a piercing blue gaze just like Carson's.

"It was bad," Rodney admitted. "We nearly died several times -- all of us. Carson's done some really brave things, though. There's more to him than most people see."

She reached across the table and took one of Rodney's hands in both of hers. "I can see he's been through somethin' awful. There's a haunting in his eyes, and I don't know what to make of it."

He looked at her gnarled fingers around his hand. They were cool but strong. "I know." There was so much he couldn't say; so much that he really found himself wanting to. "He has. We both have. There... a lot of people died this year. We almost died this year. More than once." Rodney suppressed a shiver. "I wish I could tell you that he'll be safe when we go back, but that would be a lie. All I can say is, he's as safe as I can make him. We have some good people there, and we... we take care of each other."

"And you have to go back?" she asked, her voice soft.

"Yeah." He nodded. "We do. What we're doing is more important than you can possibly imagine. We can't *not* go back."

"It's hard having him so far from home, and it's hard not to worry for him what with all you've said." She took a deep breath and looked Rodney in the eyes. "I need to know, Rodney. Do you love him?"

Rodney nodded, unable to look away. "Yeah. I do." His heart was thundering as he admitted it. Even living with Carson in Atlantis hadn't really prepared him for admitting it to strangers, and much as Carson's mom was... well... Carson's mom, Rodney barely knew her.

"Good, good then," she said, and patted his hand. "I know he loves you as well. I can see it when he looks at you, and hear it in his voice. I'd given up on seeing my son happy with someone. I'm glad it's a brave and steadfast lad like yourself."

"I'm... um... Mum, I'm really not that brave." Rodney shook his head, denying it.

"Oh, he's told me you are, and I can see that in you. He's a good judge of character, my Carson. If he loves you, I know you're a good man."

"You've obviously not been around me long enough," Rodney said.

Carson's mother was obviously an alien. That was the only answer. The only people who thought he was a good man were his deluded friends back in Atlantis. Okay, and Carson of course, but that was to be expected. Carson loved him, for reasons he still couldn't quite explain.

"Just take care of him, love," she said. "As best you can."

Rodney's breath caught in his throat. "I will. I promise." Part of him knew he'd just promised something a lot deeper than keeping an eye on his lover. Something changed in that moment; something that Rodney thought could never be undone.

"Aye," she said softly. "I think you will." She let go of his hand then and got up to pour him a cup of coffee.

"I just... you don't know what he means to me," Rodney admitted. It was hard to say, but he couldn't help it. He could see she worried about Carson, and she had every right to be. "I've never... I mean... I don't know what I mean," he finished miserably.

"This is a new thing to you, isn't it?" she asked. "Being in love." He nodded, not saying anything. "From all you've said, your family's taught you naught about that, have they?"

"No." He wondered if Jeannie was the same way.

"I know that family's a difficult subject for you, son." She sat again, sipping at her own cup. "I just want you to know that you've one here. I see how happy you've made Carson, and that's worth more to me than gold."

"I'm probably going to end up getting him killed," Rodney blurted. He covered his face with his hands. "We... it's dangerous there. It's... damn, you can't imagine how bad it gets sometimes."

"Life's dangerous, Rodney," she said. "I lost my husband and all he was doing was driving lorry that day. Just like every day. Everyone dies, and some sooner than others. I know you'll do all you can for him."

"There's one thing I don't understand," Rodney said, almost afraid to ask.

"And what's that, love?" She smiled at him and Rodney's stomach twisted.

"You're okay with this. With us. Why?"

She grinned and got up, going into the living room. "Just a moment, and I'll tell you." When she came back, she had a photo album in her hands.

Mum set it on the table and opened it. She turned the album to him and showed him a photo. It was a picture of Carson's father and another man. They sat at the same table Rodney was sitting at, each of them with a pint in hand, arms about each other's shoulders. They were grinning at each other, looking like they had a private joke. "This is Carson's da, Murdo, and the other man -- well, Carson calls him Uncle Dougal, but he was me and Murdo's love."

Rodney blinked in shock. It was the same man in the photo in Carson's bedroom. Several years younger, certainly, but still the same man.

"Oh, don't gape like a mackerel, Rodney. I knew all along about Murdo and Dougal. It's part of the reason we left Skye, you know. Dougal, he's from Lewis. The family wasn't so fond of the idea, and so we left so we could all be together. How could I be upset with my son? He's so like his da." The love in her voice was unmistakeable.

"Buh... uh..." Rodney was still having trouble wrapping his brain around the idea. "Where... um... so where is he now?"

"He went back to Lewis a few months ago. His mum's dyin' and he's taking care of her." She shrugged. "I'm still here because my life's here. Dougal will be back when all's over and done with. It's like to be a few more months."

Rodney leaned back in his chair and set his coffee down before he spilled it in his lap. "Carson doesn't know, does he?"

Mum shook her head. "No. I always feared he'd not understand. He's got such a picture of me in his head, the poor lad. I'd hate to be a disappointment to him."

But Rodney wondered if perhaps Carson didn't have at least some subconscious inkling, given his easygoing attitude about Radek and Geoff and Peter. Just thinking about that, though, left him feeling like there was a hole in his gut. "I'm not sure what he'd say," Rodney said. "It would probably be a shock to him at first, but I think he'd get over it." He smiled a little, trying not to think about Peter. "I'd love to see the look on his face when he found out."

"Carson asked after him that first night you were here, when you were up asleep already. He's hoping that Dougal will be in Skye when we go up there tomorrow. I've called and Dougal says if his mum isn't ailing too badly, he'll get one of the neighbors to stay with her for a day and come by. He'll be on the ferry now if he's going."

"It'll be... interesting to meet him," Rodney said. "So why didn't you two get married after your husband died?"

"Well," she said, taking her glasses off and polishing them on her blouse, "my sister Morag came down from Skye for that first year after Murdo died. It wouldn't have been proper for Dougal to be living here then. He was living a few streets over anyway. We just... we never really wanted to. We're still together, and he's always been there for Carson when he could, but he's been away so often with his work."

"What does he do?"

She put her glasses back on. "Oh, he's a Captain on a merchant ship now. He's always been away several months of the year. He's near to retiring, though, and next year he'll be back for good. Perhaps we'll marry then."

Rodney shook his head and chuckled. "Yeah, okay. So, you got any embarrassing baby pictures of Carson in there?"

Mum laughed. "Oh, aye, for certain. Let me show you."

Rodney grinned as Mum started flipping through the pages.

***

"Now, Rodney, I need you to learn this. Just say 'cha 'n eil me Gaidhlig labhair.'" Rodney'd had an unsufferable smirk on his face since Carson had returned from shopping for his mum yesterday afternoon, and Mum had a rather suspicious smile as well, so Carson knew the two had been up to no good.

"Right, right. Why do I need to learn it and what the hell does it mean?"

The three of them had left before dawn for the five-hour drive from Glasgow up to Skye. They'd been at it for about three hours now, and Rodney was driving Carson slowly insane. His mum was doing no better, really. "It means 'I don't speak Gaelic,' and you'd better learn it because otherwise most of the family will be jabbering at you and you won't understand a word they're saying."

"Oh," Rodney said. He looked over at Carson from the passenger seat. His first attempt was badly mangled but at least somewhat recognizable. Carson made him say it about a dozen more times, until he'd got the sound of it right.

"Don't worry so much about it, Carson," Mum said. "You know we'll tell them he's got only English."

"Oh, aye, but you know that lot. They'll forget because he's with us." Carson sighed and pulled over for some petrol. "Rodney, if you've got to use the loo, do it now. We'll not be stopping again. And get yourself a snack as well."

"Right. Snack." Rodney got out and bolted for the loo. Carson helped his mum out as well.

"Oh, he's one of a kind, isn't he?" she said in Gaelic. "I do like him."

Carson grinned. "I'm so pleased," he replied in the same language. He'd only speak English when Rodney was about, but it felt good to speak his first language again. He was afraid of losing it, with only Erin to speak it with back in Atlantis.

"So what is it you two have been plotting behind my back?" he asked.

She tilted her head and looked at him. "I'm not so sure you really want to know, love."

"Mum!" He snorted as he filled the tank.

"It's just something that I think you'd not take to well." She shrugged. "I'll be in the shop to buy a snack myself. Do you want anything?"

"Oh," he said, "whatever looks good." She nodded and went off into the shop.

By the time the tank was full again, Rodney and Mum had come back to the car, laughing and carrying food. Carson was glad to see the two of them getting on so well, but he had to admit that with the looks they'd had on their faces, it left him a wee bit nervous.

He was excited to be seeing the rest of the family again, and they'd got a call from Auntie Morag saying that Dougal was there from Lewis. That left Carson with a warm spot in his heart. He'd not seen the old man in several years. Most of the time when he'd been home to visit Mum, Dougal had been off at sea and so he'd missed him. They still exchanged letters now and then, but it was rare. Dougal wasn't much for writing.

They'd be in Skye about noon, and Portree not so long after. It would be lunch with the family, and Morag had said they were getting up a ceilidh for that night. He'd not said anything to Rodney about it, and asked Mum to keep her counsel as well, wanting to surprise Rodney.

He had plans for taking Rodney hill walking in the Cuillins as well. They'd not really had any time alone together except for the unexpected night at the bed and breakfast outside Vancouver, and Carson had it in mind to hire them a self-catering cottage for tomorrow night, and maybe the next. He wanted for once to have Rodney to himself, not having to share him with a city full of people needing his time and expertise, nor with either of their families.

Rodney would no doubt object to the trek, but come along anyway. It was just how he was. Carson smiled to himself, anticipating the quiet. It was autumn, and there'd be few people on the paths. The weather wouldn't be so good, but he could do with a little rain and some wind in his face. The views would be spectacular still, especially if the day was a bright one.

Rodney and Mum talked most of the way there, with Rodney turned round to talk over the back of the seat and complaining about the horrible cricks in his neck and back and how Carson would have to take him to hospital when they got to Portree. Carson ignored most of it and just let them talk, hoping to get some clue as to what deviltry they'd planned.

At least he'd be able to take home some Talisker with him when they went back to Atlantis. He could think of a few times he'd be like to need a wee dram, considering all that went on there. He sighed, wondering where Rodney might like to stay.

They'd removed the toll from the Skye Bridge since last he'd been there, and it was a lovely view. Even Rodney was impressed with the drive, though he'd not said much about it on the way. Carson could tell, though, by the way he'd get quiet sometimes and stare out the window when the scenery had been particularly beautiful.

The drive into Portree was lovely, and he'd missed it more than he realized. The Cuillins on the way up toward the town were spectacular, and he was looking forward to walking them again, as he had when he was a lad. He got more and more excited as he got closer to Morag and Kenneth's house, and he couldn't wait to see his other aunts and uncles, all the cousins and their wee ones. Really, though, most of the "wee ones" would be in their teens by now. He'd not been to Skye in about five years.

Rodney would probably have a fit about the children, but he'd live. Carson grinned.

Family poured from the house when they pulled up and Carson parked the car. Faces he'd not seen in years, and kids who'd grown taller than he'd imagined, and there among them was his Uncle Dougal and his Auntie Morag and Uncle Kenneth. Two terriers bolted out, and a young border collie, and the three were sniffing them up and down for all they were worth.

Dougal threw his arms about Carson and gave him a hearty hug and a pat on the back. He was still tall and wiry; his face was lined and wrinkled from years at sea, and his dark hair was much greyer now. "Oh, Carson, son, how are you?" he asked in Gaelic.

"Uncle Dougal," Carson replied in English, grinning. "This is my love, Rodney." He waved at Rodney, who was avoiding children for all he was worth. "He's got no Gaelic, so we need to speak English around him."

Everyone was jabbering madly in English and Gaelic and Rodney was shouting, "cha 'n eil me Gaidhlig labhair!" just as Carson had taught him, though his accent was suffering a bit for his hysteria.

"He's got rather a set of lungs on him," Dougal said.

Carson nodded, smiling, as Dougal hurried over to Mum.

"Una!" he shouted, and Dougal enveloped her in a warm embrace, kissing her fondly on the cheek. "It's been too long!" He stood with Mum as she got hugs and kisses from everyone and tousled the children's hair. Carson got hugs as well, and everyone asked about his "friend."

Some got a bit quiet when he said that Rodney wasn't only a friend, but for the most part they just greeted Rodney and shook his hand and welcomed him. The three of them were swept into the house.

"Can I kill them now?" Rodney whispered to Carson as they were ushered into the kitchen. He gestured at the kids around them.

"No, love. None of that."

"Damn. They won't stop yapping. I can barely hear myself think." Rodney grumbled and took a seat next to Carson. Mum and Dougal sat together and a dozen other people were crowded around as well, relatives to a one.

"It'll calm down shortly," Carson assured him. He'd seen it so many times before, though he'd never brought anyone home with him on his other visits. They were curious, of course. "We'll be eating soon at any rate."

"Oh, good. Food sounds good." Rodney edged a little closer to him, uneasy and searching for Carson's hand under the table.

***

'Oh thank god,' Rodney thought, taking Carson's hand in his own. The last time he'd felt quite so lost had been his first day in Siberia, before he'd picked up any Russian. There were over a dozen people in the small kitchen, cheek by jowl, and quite a few of them bore some familial resemblance to Carson, which of course he should have expected.

He got the feeling a couple of the older people were giving him the cold shoulder, but for the most part they seemed okay. That probably wouldn't last long, but he was going to make an effort not to fuck things up.

Carson was introducing everyone, and Rodney couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Dougal, but he had other reasons to remember the man. Dougal and Carson's mum kept exchanging these fleeting glances and little smiles at each other, and he figured everybody else in the family knew but these two were just being coy or something. Weren't people that age supposed to be past that shit?

The kids were noisy, and mostly in their teens, though there were two younger ones. He had no idea how old any of them were, and to be perfectly honest, even when Carson's relatives were speaking English, Rodney couldn't follow most of it. The accent was far too thick, and Carson was descending into frightful accord. Rodney wondered if he'd ever understand another word Carson said.

"Is there any citrus in that?" Rodney asked when a bowl of something was set in front of him.

"It's cullen skink, Rodney. It's like a seafood chowder. There's no lemon in it," Carson said. "Now have a go at it. Auntie Morag's cullen skink's not to be missed." There was bread, too, and the place smelled like it had been baked there.

The place was a cacophony of sound and laughter, voices mingling in English and Gaelic and something in-between. Rodney just ate, trying to sort things out, glad he was close to Carson. He was a confident man, arrogant even, but here he was out of his depth. The food was wonderful, but he did find himself wishing he had a laptop with him so he could work out more of the power system for Atlantis now that the zero point module had been installed.

Even getting used to twenty-four hour days again had been more of a challenge than Rodney had expected. It left him feeling lost, longing for the familiarity of work and arguing with Radek.

When everyone had eaten, people adjourned to the living room and started pulling out instruments. It was only a matter of minutes before the place was alive with music. "Oh, Carson," Mum said, "you must play your fiddle."

"But Mum, I've not played in over two years. I'm more than a wee bit rusty."

She pressed a violin case into his hands and Carson looked flustered but opened it nonetheless. His eyes softened as he looked down at the instrument and his fingers slid over the varnished wood. He took it out with something akin to reverence and smiled when he plucked at the strings.

He tuned it while others were singing and playing. Rodney had to admit that most of them were actually quite good at what they were doing, though he didn't understand a word of the lyrics, it being all in Gaelic. Carson's mum had brought one of her harps, and she was playing along as well.

Rodney settled next to Carson and watched as furniture was moved out of the way, and then people were dancing. Rodney had never seen anything like it. Certainly his family would rather have committed mass suicide than done anything like this.

Nobody in his family had been musical. Well, at one point he'd thought he might be -- had hoped he was -- but that had been before... he so didn't want to go there right now. One of the teen girls was playing an old upright piano over against the far wall. Rodney watched, part in longing, part in fascination. He sat far enough away from Carson on the couch to avoid his elbow as he got started playing his fiddle.

By the time it got dark, there were a couple dozen people in the house, and most of them seemed to be related to Carson in one way or another. Some he thought might just be family friends, but he couldn't tell. It wasn't long before a huge ginger tomcat had settled in his lap. There was another cat in the house as well, a gangly adolescent calico. That one came up and rubbed against his legs, and Rodney thought maybe this was bliss. It had been far too long since he'd had cats around. He wished he could bring one back to Atlantis with him, but Carson was right and Landry wasn't likely to allow it.

The sound washed over him, and Carson joined in the singing more than he played. Rodney had never realized how good a singer Carson was. He'd heard him once, but it had been a long time ago, and Carson hadn't been singing to anyone but himself at the time. Beer and whiskey were flowing abundantly, and it made everyone even harder to understand.

People talked to him, but half the time he wasn't sure what they were saying. He'd catch a word here and there. When he looked up now and then, an older man was watching him. He'd glare at Rodney, then at Carson, and sometimes at Dougal as well. He was pretty sure that one wasn't going to be making any small talk.

Rodney was asked about where he was from and what he did and about his family, and he answered a few questions, avoiding others. He particularly didn't want to talk about his family, which seemed to confuse Carson's relatives. Fortunately, he could barely understand most of them, so it made avoiding answers a little easier.

One of the older boys, about sixteen, had been asking a lot of questions once he realized Rodney was a physicist. The kid apparently was into the hard sciences but having a hell of a time getting a decent education in a little pit of a town like Portree. He was actually pretty damned intelligent, and Rodney was starting to get into the conversation, seeing as he didn't have to slap down too much idiocy.

During the entire conversation with the kid -- Kenneth, he thought -- the old man was glaring at him as though he was some kind of criminal. Every time Carson touched him, the glare would get more intense. Finally, the old man got up and went over to Dougal, snapping something in Gaelic that got most of the room's attention. Carson flushed and got to his feet, furious.

"Dougal?" Carson asked, gaping. He looked at Dougal and then over to his mother. "Mum?" He turned and glared at the old man, obviously flustered. "Whatever you're saying about Dougal and my da, it didn't make me the way I am!" he snapped.

Rodney looked at Carson as everyone spoke at once, English and Gaelic flying through the air like so many arrows. "What?"

Carson sputtered, his hands waving in the air. "He called Dougal and my da a pair of buggers who must have done horrid things to me as a lad that I would show up with a man instead of a woman to greet the family." He turned and shouted at the old man again. "It's not true, Uncle Connor! Not a bloody word of it!"

Dougal looked over at him. "You'd been saying that to me and Murdo from the day we met, Connor. It's time ye got over it. Young Carson, here, he's not a bad lad at all, nor is this lad he's with, and no, I never laid a hand on him that way, you lying git. You know Una never cared that Murdo was that way, nor that I was."

"Wait a minute," Rodney said, pointing at Connor. "That withered up creep is accusing Dougal of--" He was on his feet too, the ginger cat leaping aside, and Rodney was ready to go and kick some old guy ass. Carson would have told him if anything of the sort had been happening. "I am so gonna--"

Carson grabbed him by the elbow. "Rodney, no. That's not how we do things in our family." He turned his attention to Connor. "It's your right to not approve of me, Uncle Connor, but you've got no right to go accusing Dougal and my da, god rest him, of doing anything to me to *make* me this way. It's just how I am. If you can't accept that, then so be it. I don't have to stay here if I'm not welcome."

Morag shook her head. "Carson Beckett, I'll not have you leaving my house because my brother's an drunken old fool." She turned on Connor and growled something at him in Gaelic. Several of the others weighed in as well, and Carson's uncle looked upset about it all. He snapped a reply and then got up and left.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish, then!" Morag said.

Her husband Kenneth added, "And don't you come back while they're here, either!"

That nobody had come to blows already was what really shocked Rodney. Carson's relatives were *talking* to each other. He blinked, not sure he wasn't in some alternate dimension. Then again, he'd been feeling like he'd stepped through a quantum mirror ever since he got to Scotland.

When the immediate crisis was over, Carson turned to Dougal. "Uncle Dougal? You... you and Da?"

Dougal grinned at him, eyes glinting. "Oh, aye, Carson. Me and your da."

Carson's mum patted Dougal's arm. "It was the three of us, lad, which was why we left Skye in the first place."

"We always knew it," Morag said, looking smug. "So why did ye never marry this old goat then?"

"Mum?" Carson looked like he'd just been hit with a Wraith stunner.

"She wanted to wait until I retired from sea," Dougal said with a shrug. "And you know how Una is. Can't argue with the woman so you might as well cooperate."

And suddenly people were laughing and Rodney was bewildered by the emotional shift in the room.

"But you're retiring next year," Mum said. "So I suppose we'd best post the banns, then?"

"Oh, you're not goin' to even think about wearin' white, missy," one of the other older women said. There was more laughter and the music got started again and Rodney just sat and watched as Carson blinked and looked flustered.

"I think I need some air," Carson said. He headed for the door, and Rodney got up and followed him.

"What just happened in there?" Rodney asked. "Nobody killed anybody."

Carson shrugged. "The usual. Uncle Connor gets that way when he's got a wee dram in him."

Rodney shook his head. "Okay, the stupid drunken uncle that should be kept locked in the attic."

"That's about the size of it," Carson said, nodding. He stood in the little front garden, looking up at the stars. It was cold. They'd probably have to go in again soon. A moment later, the kid who'd been asking Rodney about maths came out to join them. The border collie was at his heels.

"Carson?" he said quietly.

Carson looked over at the kid. "Aye, Kenneth Og, what is it?"

The kid hesitated before speaking. "I dinna want to be rude," he said, "but I wanted to ask you."

"Ask me what?" Carson tilted his head.

"When did you know?" Kenneth asked. "I just..."

"Since I was a lad myself," Carson told him. "But I like the lasses too." He shrugged.

"But you brought him home." Kenneth gestured at Rodney. The dog came over to sniff him.

"I'm here too, you know," Rodney said. "And get your mutt off me, okay?"

"Rodney, mo leannan, there's no harm meant." Carson patted his shoulder.

Kenneth looked down at the dog and snapped his fingers, calling it back. "I think... I mean, I fancy the lads myself, but... but until now I didn't think I knew anyone else who did." He looked up at Carson. "I don't know what to do."

"How long have you known?" Carson asked.

Kenneth shrugged, petting the collie when it got up on its hind feet to lean on his hip. "Since I was a wee lad. I was a bit sweet on one of the other lads at school, but I was too afraid to say. They'd say terrible things, like Uncle Connor does, and I didn't know what to think, only that I shouldn't talk about it."

Rodney just stood next to Carson. Having this kind of conversation with somebody else's kid felt really strange. He was glad he was just a little drunk. It made the whole thing slightly easier to cope with.

"What about you?" Kenneth asked, looking up at Rodney. "Did you know when you were a lad?"

Carson slid his arm around Rodney's waist and Kenneth's eyes went wide. "Yeah," Rodney said, not elaborating. "None of your business anyway."

Kenneth looked back at Carson. "Do you kiss each other, then? Like I see with the other kids? I mean..."

Carson leaned in and planted one on Rodney, who was startled but enthusiastic. Kenneth just laughed, delight in his voice.

Rodney glowered at Kenneth. "We do other things too, but there is no way in hell you're gonna watch."

Carson cuffed Rodney in the back of the head. "Rodney! Don't be rude now."

"And I should stop being rude why?"

"That's brilliant," Kenneth said, still laughing. "I'm so glad you came back to us, Carson. I wish you'd be staying."

"You know I can't, lad. I've got my work that's far and away from here. And I've got Rodney, and he works with me as well, so I'd be away from him, too, if I stayed." He squeezed Rodney's waist again and looked over at him, love in his eyes. "And I'd not want to be parted from him for anything."

Rodney could only grin stupidly back at him. Carson loved him. He knew it, but it still made him feel a little tingly sometimes. He was definitely tingling right now.

"I hope I'll be able to get off this island someday," Kenneth said. "There's naught here for me. The family's lovely, but there's no work here but the boats and the tourists."

Carson nodded. "I heard you talking with Rodney about maths and science. How are your grades, lad?"

"They're at the top of the class, just ask Mum," Kenneth said proudly. "I'd like to go to uni, but I don't know how I'll get in."

"He's not stupid," Rodney said, leaning into Carson. He looked at Kenneth. "You'll get in." He was feeling uncharacteristically charitable. Maybe it was the whiskey, or maybe it was just this weird family vibe that Carson had going, but Rodney would find a way to make sure the kid got a seat somewhere decent.

"What are you plotting, Rodney. I can see you've got some scheme in your head." Carson nuzzled his neck.

"Tell you about it later," Rodney said. He looked at Kenneth. "Scram, kid. You can talk to him tomorrow. I want some time with him now."

Kenneth grinned, blushing. "Oh, aye, right enough then." He hurried off with the dog to rejoin the party.

"And what's on your mind?" Carson asked. He smiled and Rodney's knees wobbled a little. Definitely the whiskey.

Rodney put his arms around Carson, leaning in close until they were nose to nose. "You," he said, and kissed Carson hard and deep.

***

Rodney sat on the couch with Carson drowsing beside him. There hadn't been enough bedrooms for everyone visiting, and Carson had insisted that his mum and Dougal get the guest room, leaving the two of them on the fold-out couch for the night. Rodney had complained -- quietly -- about his back but Carson wouldn't hear of having his mum sleep on it.

He'd not said much about Mum and Dougal before they'd gone to bed, but Rodney knew he was going to get the third degree tomorrow sometime. It could wait. The expression on Carson's face had truly been priceless.

The piano was across the room from him. He'd been staring at it for god knew how long while the cats played steeplechase over his legs and Carson's back. Part of him ached to go over and just touch the thing. The tips of his fingers remembered what the keys would feel like, cool and smooth under his touch.

The music around him, the easiness of Carson with the fiddle and how well he sang left Rodney with an ache he hardly dared explore. Mum had showed him photos of Carson as a boy, singing in competitions. That was where the ribbons on his bedroom wall had come from. Carson had been disgustingly adorable in a kilt and a formal jacket, all blue eyes and brown hair and a shy, brilliant grin, exuding confidence.

He wanted the music back, but he had no idea how to get it. Even looking at the piano was painful. He remembered the music he'd made with the Orpheus Box and wondered if that was really still inside him. Was he even capable? Did he dare open