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John touched down and held his breath while the medics ran out and collected the three fallen men and the two who were still moving. British troops, he'd been told, but his was the closest med-evac unit.
As John took off again he could hear the commotion in the rear as US and British medical forces scrambled to keep the three injured men alive. Once voice seemed louder than the others, his accent different. John rolled his eyes. Just what he needed – some guy with a fear of flying in the back of his bird.
When they landed, the doctors and nurses of the Combat Support Hospital took over and John headed off to the mess. Once he had finished he took his tray up to the line and just as he was about to leave, he noticed a lone figure sitting in the back of the mess, head down over what passed for pizza. He noticed the patch on his shoulder. It was one of the guys he'd just picked up.
"Hey," he said setting his coffee cup down and helping himself to the seat across from the guy.
"Hello," he said forlornly.
"I'd think you'd be happier now that you're on solid ground," John said amicably and the other guy gave him half a smile.
"We almost lost a man today because I panicked," the other man replied. John finally placed his accent. Scottish.
"Not a fan of flying?"
He shook his head.
"You done with that?" John nodded at the congealed pizza.
It was pushed towards him. "Help yourself."
"No, I don't want it," John said smiling. "Come on."
"What?"
"Come on," John repeated and waited until he stood up.
"I'm going to show you around my chopper. Maybe you'll feel better if you understand it better. I'm Captain John Sheppard, by the way." He held out a hand.
"Beckett. Doctor Carson Beckett." Somehow it never occurred to Carson that "I want to show you my helicopter" could be a pick-up line.