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The sound of a baby crying wasn't a common occurrence in Atlantis.
The picture of a United States Air Force Major cradling the tiny, screaming bundle was an even rarer sight.
Still rubbing sleep from her eyes when she entered the infirmary, Addison Parker did a double-take, staring longer than she should have at the sight. The crying infant was hardly the only noise in the room - there were half-a-dozen other unfamiliar faces, presumably the refugees Major Lorne's team had brought to Atlantis while escaping the Wraith on their own planet, creating more than enough noise on their own. The baby was just more distinctive.
"'Morning, Doc," Lorne greeted her, voice raised slightly to talk over the cries.
She blinked once, frowned, and looked around the room. "How did you end up on baby duty, Major?"
Still cradling the child, rocking it gently - almost imperceptibly - in his arms, Lorne cracked a smile. "No one else could put up with the crying?"
Stepping forward she held out her arms to take the infant from him, and he passed the baby girl over without complaint. Still crying, she had at least stopped screaming, she wiggled in Addison's arms and she was reminded immediately of her nieces back on Earth. Tiny fingers clung to one of her fingers tightly. She looked up at Lorne. "Her parents?"
He shook his head. "They were picked up by a dart. Someone thinks they saw her mother throw her out of the way when she heard the dart approach."
"Oh," she murmured softly, playing with the little girl's hands. Her cries turned to whimpers as she was distracted by the sensation. "Well, we're going to have to do some tests, make sure she didn't sustain any damage from whatever it was that happened to her. Poor little thing."
Moving through the infirmary towards the scanning room which had been set up just off to one-side, she had to weave through the people being treated and the attendings. She didn't realise Lorne had followed her until she reached her destination and she finally noticed.
She smiled, amused. "You don't have to stay, Major," she told him. She was surprised he'd come as far as he had, and she wouldn't have him stay just because he felt obligated.
He returned her smile with one of his own. "If I'm not going to be in your way, I'd like to stay and see how she is."
Addison nodded and pointed to a pair of plastic chairs that had been set up near a stretcher in one corner of the room. "Of course, have a seat."
For the moment the scanning room was empty of other personnel and the quiet of the room and the soft sounds of Addison humming as many nursery songs as she could remember from the times she'd had to care for her nieces, seemed to help calm the child while Addison did her job. There were no external injuries visible, no bumps or bruises, but she was more concerned about the high possibility of internal injuries, particularly if the child had been dropped or thrown as Lorne had reported.
Emily Cole breezed in at one point to check how things were going, and Addison had sent her on an errand to find something they could use to feed the child. While she couldn't be sure until she completed the tests, she'd already theorised that the child was at most twelve months old, or younger, and Atlantis was not exactly child friendly.
The city itself had recovered from the last two months admirably, and despite the reshuffle of personnel and administrative changes dictated by Earth's IOA, everyone seemed to have pulled through. Jennifer Keller was due back any day, and Addison was more than willing to relinquish the interim control she'd been charged with while Keller had dealt with a personal matter back on Earth.
Three weeks in and she was more than ready to go back to being 'just another doctor.'
Keeping an eye on the infant lying on the examination table - between pillows that Addison had position to prevent her from rolling off too easily - she finished filling out the report on the tests she'd run, and scheduling their results as priorities.
"Have you worked with kids before?" Lorne asked.
Addison turned to look at him, realising that he'd been watching her work the entire time. She had a tendency to forget, when she was focused on a task at hand, if other people were around. She shook her head. "No, not really," she told him, "but I have a couple of friends who are pediatricians. And, unfortunately, pediatricians were not high on the Atlantis personnel requirements."
He chuckled. She'd met him a number of times since arriving in the city, treated him, and she'd been pleasantly surprised to find a member of the military contingent who wore emotion easily when it suited him. More often than not he wore an easy smile, and a relaxed demeanor that was comforting. Treating the marines always unnerved her because they were often unwilling to admit where they felt pain after being injured.
"I have three nieces, though," she told him, putting down the file and picking up the baby girl who curled into her arms babbling in the cute baby talk that was probably a language that adults were simply incapable of interpreting. "The youngest is probably a few months older than this one," she added, smiling down at the bright-blue eyed child.
Lorne patted the chair next to him, and she took the seat. "I have a niece and a nephew, twins," he told her. "I don't get to see them all that often, especially being here. But I remember when they were just babies. God, they were a handful. I can remember not envying my brother."
It was her turn to laugh. "How old are they now?"
He pulled a face. "Five," he said finally, although he didn't sound convinced. He leaned over and let the baby girl tug at one of his fingers while she made happy-gurgling noises.
Addison thought it was a cute moment, up until she heard footsteps closely followed by a long retinue of words in an easily recognisable voice. John Sheppard and Rodney McKay walked into the room. McKay was still talking when Sheppard caught sight of the pair of them sitting side-by-side playing with the baby.
He frowned slightly, then his expression changed. "Congratulations," he told them. "It's a girl." He looked vaguely amused now, and Addison felt Lorne shift in his seat.
"Can I do something for you, Colonel?" she asked, offering both Sheppard and McKay a smile in greeting.
"Actually, we were looking for Lorne," McKay told her abruptly. "The, uh, woman with the orange hair told us he was in here."
Addison blinked. Lorne had already made a move to stand. "Let me know how the results go," he muttered, and Addison nodded.
"Right. Chop, chop," McKay said, and she noticed that he was eyeing the baby like it was about to end life as he knew it. She was sure she'd read something about McKay's fear of working with small children somewhere.
Lorne followed McKay out, but Sheppard stayed behind for a moment, looking down on her and the child. There was something in his eyes, something very familiar. It didn't last long and was replaced by his customary half-grin. "Is she going to be alright?"
"I hope so," she replied. "I'll know more in a couple of hours. We're going to have to start planning what's going to happen to her, though. We're not really equipped for this."
He nodded. "Well, just let me or Carter know if you guys need anything for her."
Addison nodded. Then she made a shooing gesture. "Go, before McKay comes back in here and makes loud noises and disturbs her," she told him, winking.
With a small salute, and a smirk, he left.
When she looked down, the infant was sleeping.