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1
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Still.
So still.
And pale. Almost translucent.
Not of this world. A mere ghost of reality.
The mirage of a man.
He was a good man. Not excellent in any kind of way. He wasn’t gifted with a genius mind. He wasn’t famed for physical strength or endurance. He wasn’t adored for good looks or social skills.
In fact, hardly anyone on Atlantis even knew he existed. Except of course the medical staff. And those believing the ‘urban legend’ that some of the former group had started…
If Carson ever found out which bloody fools hadn’t kept their tongue to themselves, he’d have their daft heads send back to Earth on a stake.
“Doctor Beckett?”
“What?” Carson snapped in uncharacteristic irritation at the sudden intrusion of his quiet introspection.
He whipped around, intent on releasing some good ol’ Scottish ire at the next bloody nuisance, but the second he saw the hurt look in nurse Kent’s face, the anger was drained from him and only a bone-deep weariness remained.
And remorse.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Betty. I dinnae mean to snap at you.” Ruefully, he thought this apologizing was getting far too frequent for comfort.
He rubbed his eyes with shaky fingers, willing the tiredness that threatened to close them away, before settling his soft blue gaze on one of his most diligent workers. "You’re away to bed?”
“Yes, doctor, it’s nearly 1 am. It’s been a long day…, for the both of us.” Betty said, looking pointedly at him with a gentle compassion that told Carson she understood his reluctance to leave.
“Aye, lass, but I’m no going yet. I just need a wee moment more, to settle some thoughts.” He sighed, valiantly stifling a yawn.
Betty just nodded “Good night.”, gave him a sad little smile and left.
Silence fell over the infirmary room again like a heavy blanket, but instead of being soothing like before, it now smothered the atmosphere. Suddenly Carson irrationally felt like there was an acute lack of oxygen for him to consume.
After one last lingering look at the pale face, and a small encouraging pat on the limb hand, Carson fled the infirmary, escaping to the nearest balcony.
The night air was cool, and he enjoyed taking several large breaths, imagining the inhaled oxygen rush through his body, feeding chemical reactions to get his muddled brain into a higher gear.
“Mum, I'm fair ferfochen.” He whispered to the small bright star above the North East Tower that he secretly thought of as earth.
Never mind Rodney’s far too many lectures about how far the milky way was and how impossible it would be to catch even a glimpse of its closest star without advanced space telescopes. To him, that bright spot in the nightly dark represented the home he had left.
And even if it was in his imagination, talking to his dear mum always worked wonders for his peace of mind.
Yet this night, that peace remained elusive.
This night, his thoughts were haunted by the ghost of a man.
This night, he had to make one of the hardest decisions in his life.
-
2
-
“Carson, I leave the decision to you.” Elizabeth said, her voice purposefully emotionless, but those large green eyes clearly showed the anguish she felt at passing on the burden to her chief medical officer.
Carson’s head shot up immediately. Baby blue eyes blinked fast several times, and then widened when the initial confusion was quickly replaced by realization. “Oh, nae, Elizabeth, I couldn’t possibly…”
Elizabeth’s hand gripping his arm gently brought him to a halt. “Carson, you were the closest thing to a confidant he had.”
Slightly peeved, he corrected her: “Are. Has. He’s nae dead just yet!”
Immediately he regretted his harsh words when she flinched and quickly drew back her hand as if his arm had turned scalding hot.
“Oh, Elizabeth, I’m sorry…” He hung his head, ashamed of his unprofessional show of emotions.
Lord, he felt so tired…
He jumped slightly when Elizabeth gently squeezed his hand. “Carson, try to get some rest first. You have been on your feet for the better part of these past 4 days.”
He sighed as he got up; “Aye, try I can.”
At the door, Elizabeth’s voice stopped him: “And, Carson…”
He turned around wearily.
Her gaze was soft and warm and compassionate, and she allowed the gratitude to seep through even in her voice: “Thank you for saving Rodney, for believing against all odds and fighting against our scepticism all the way. We owe you, Carson…”
He smiled sadly, waving away the praise for what he considered was merely an evident attitude for a physician.
Regardless, the acknowledgement warmed his heart, and thawed some of the chill that had settled there since he had been delivered the dreadful news this morning.
He consciously squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and nodded his goodbye to Elizabeth.
Her whispered parting words anchored themselves in his mind and their echo gave him the strength to endure the long hours that would follow. “For every life lost, you have saved over a tenfold more. Count your successes, instead of your sorrows…”
-
3
-
“Ah, Kate, I was just dropping by to check if Rodney has shown up for his appointment at 5 o’clock?” Carson asked, not liking the critical once-over he got from Atlantis’s resident psychologist.
“No, he hasn’t. Not that that surprises me much…” Kate Heightmeyer frowned.
“I’m more confused as to why you show up personally on my doorstep, instead of just giving me a call.” She tapped her ear-set demonstratively, all the while looking intently at Carson, making him feel like a specimen trapped under a microscope.
“You are a terrible confabulator, dr. Beckett.” She crossed her arms, tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, striking the classical female position for ‘confess now or suffer dire consequences’.
“I’m sorry, I… I wanted a word with you, if you’ll permit me?” The lost and frightened look in his soft blue eyes effectively vanquished any traces of irritation, and brought forth the mother hen fussing.
“Oh, Carson, of course, come on in. Just have a seat, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee. Or maybe some tea?”
He graced her with a tired smile: “Tea would be lovely, lass, thank you.”
“So,” she said gently over her shoulder as she busied herself setting tea, “What is it you’d like to discuss about?”
Carson’s voice was merely more than a whisper: “Private Reynolds…”
The resulting silence was shattered brutally by a tea spoon clattering to the floor.
Kate blushed as she ducked for the wayward utensil.
Feeling incredibly guilty for introducing the knotty topic to her so suddenly, Carson quickly got to his feet, intent on helping her clean up the spilled tea. But his slumbering headache flared up, the world swayed alarmingly in a blur of colours fading to grey and he suddenly found himself on the floor with no memory as to how he’d gotten there.
“Carson?” A familiar female voice filtered trough the buzz in his head.
He lazily focussed on a blond curl, patiently waiting while his headache slowly faded to the background again.
“Carson!” The voice sounded louder now, and very worried.
He didn’t want people to worry on his account, so he gathered all his strength and directed it to clearing his fuzzy mind. Slowly, the world slid back into full focus, and he smiled weakly as he recognized Kate Heightmeyer kneeling next to him.
Then, his memory returned, and he frantically scrambled into a sitting position, using the sofa in his back to keep him balanced. Briefly, the pain and light-headedness flared up again, but this time, he managed to force it away.
“Are you OK, Carson? Do you want me to get a wheelchair or can you make it to the infirmary yourself?” Kate hovered nearby anxiously, no doubt scared witless at his graceless tumble to the floor.
“Nae.” He waved the suggestion away. “I just stood up too fast, got a wee bit giddy, that’s all.” He tried to smile reassuringly: “I’ll be fine, just need to be getting some food down…”
He knew he was a terrible liar, the nervous unease in his eyes betraying him every time, as his mum always fondly reminded him. Unsurprisingly, he failed spectacularly in convincing Kate that he was all right.
“Sure, Carson.” She huffed, monitoring him closely as he gingerly hoisted himself into the sofa. “I recommend you catch up on some sleep right thereafter.” Her voice softened: “You are just the CMO, not Superman…”
Carson joked feebly: “Nae, we’ll be leaving that title for Rodney…”
“Mmmm.” She harrumphed, remembering her other wayward patient, “Let’s see if we can make it to the mess hall without any more dizzy spells, shall we? After all, it’s one of the most likely places to find dr. McKay at 7 pm…”
-
4
-
Ronon was looking incredulously at the quickly disappearing pile of food.
Well, Carson had to admit he’d been surprised himself when he had seen the huge selection Kate had dumped on his tray, but even more shocked when he had found himself digging in ravenously, easily working through the equivalent of three main courses.
Now, spooning down the last of his second cup of Jell-O, he was feeling decidedly better. The head-ache that had been plaguing him fortwo days had diminished to a more bearable level, and –more importantly- the cotton wool that had been clogging his brain was rapidly dissolving. He felt human again, and more ready to tackle his problem.
Kate really was good at her job.
First he had been a bit peeved when she had left him in the mess hall to look for the elusive McKay, thinking she took the easy way out. But now that his mind was clearing up, he understood her reasoning. Get some glucose intake, and…
“You gonna try all the colours of the rainbow?”
… enter some good friends…
Carson smiled widely at the Lieutenant Colonel, who was frowning at two empty cups with the remnants of, one cup blue and one cup green, Jell-O and the unopened red-tinted cup. “Nae, I’ll be keeping the red one for Rodney. He just might be passing by the infirmary to snatch the last cup, and then…”
“You’ll stick a frickin’ huge needle in his bum…” Sheppard drawled, taking obvious pleasure in that mental imagery.
“Well, if that is what it’s going to take to rebandage his arm properly…” Carson shrugged lightly.
“Ain’t that against the Hippocratic oath or something?” Sheppard had spoken in jest, but when he saw the sudden sadness wash over the doctor’s face, he instantly became serious.
“Carson?”
It sounded by no means pressuring, but it was an invitation to speak his mind, the promise of an attentive set of ears… or rather 2 sets of ears. Ronon didn’t vocally convey the sentiment, but he stopped eating and slightly cocked his head to the left.
Carson swallowed something more than the last bite of Jell-O. “It’s about private Reynolds…”
Sheppard’s hazel eyes returned his hesitant gaze without any surprise, merely a complete understanding.
Carson blinked rapidly. “You knew?”
“Well.” Sheppard quirked an eyebrow “If I’d been a betting man, I’d have wagered my Johnny Cash poster on it.”
Seeing the surprised doctor was currently at a loss for words, he explained: “I heard the news from that Canadian gate tech –what’s his name again?- this morning, when I returned with McKay from the infirmary.”
That made Sheppard one of a very small group that would really know what was bothering Carson so much. Kate hadn’t known and she had made the wrong assumption that there would be plenty of time to discuss the situation after some much needed food and rest. She hadn’t known that time was something he was quickly running out of…
“Elizabeth has made me decide. So, I’m sure you’re see my dilemma…” And if Carson’s voice cracked a bit, they’d attribute it to lack of sleep.
Sheppard looked uncharacteristically serious. “Then, she didn’t force you to choose, she gave you the opportunity to choose.”
Before the doctor could utter a tirade of protests, he shook his head and continued: “No, listen for a moment, Carson. They could have whisked him straight from under your nose, leaving the decision to some uncaring, unknowing guy in another galaxy. Instead, Elizabeth made sure you can do what you feel is right.”
Ronon looked confused, but understood that only his company was required, and not any intelligent input in their conversation.
Carson lowered his eyes, contemplating his empty tray. “But how do I know what’s wrong and what’s right?”
“The whole situation is wrong. Either decision you make is right in its own way.” The answer was simple, unassuming and utterly useless from a practical point-of-view.
Carson looked up again, searching Sheppard’s face for his reaction as he asked: “Would you condemn me, either way?”
“Never.”
Carson saw only honesty and trust.
Ronon looked … well, stoic as ever, but his gaze on Carson was steady and far too comprehending. Maybe the former runner had picked up some of the many urban legends echoing through the Atlantian hallways, perhaps if only incidentally when listening in on the respectable amount of folly stories about himself.
Carson breathed a soft sigh. Whatever he decided, his friends would always be there for him. That reassurance was more helpful than any amount of food or sleep to clear his mind.
Some coffee wouldn’t hurt either.
Ronon apparently spotted his longing glance at a nearby –empty- pot, because within all of 1 minute, the large man deposited a steaming mug in front of the physician, effectively smothering the outraged complaints of the 2 marines whose coffee he had ‘borrowed’ with one fierce glare.
Carson smiled softly as sipped the hot beverage, for one moment not debating with himself, but just quietly enjoying the company of good friends.
-
5
-
It was a truly spectacular sunset. A myriad of red hues painted across the darkening sky. The breathtaking last moments of a dying sun.
His father had died on an evening exactly like this.
His eyes had been the most vivid blue, and had held more sparkles in them than ever before. They had never looked so intensely focussed, so aware, so alive as when they had gazed intently at his only child. He hadn’t been able to speak much anymore, his strength sapped by the terrible evil wracking his body. But his eyes had conveyed it all. How much he loved Carson, how proud he was, how he would always be there.
Then, the light had faded, to be replaced by a deep dark night.
And Carson had pledged a solemn vow. He would do all that was in his might to prevent a similar suffering from happening to anyone else. Hence becoming a medical doctor had seemed the most logical career choice, and he hadn’t regretted it a moment since.
But now, as the last reddish golden rays lightly kissed his face, he wasn’t so sure anymore that he had made the right choice. If he had stayed on the farm, and lived a quiet unassuming life amidst the gentle glens of his beloved home land, he could never have messed up things in another galaxy…
“Doctor Beckett?” A soft melodic voice interrupted his introspection.
He slowly turned around to find Teyla stepping out onto the balcony, and coming to stand at his side.
“Hullo.” He tried to return her smile, but it was barely more than a twitching of his lips. “What are you doing so far from the main part of the city?”
He hadn’t meant for it to come out that defensively, and he cringed. “I’m sorry, lass, never mind me being a wee bit crabbit…”
Teyla’s soft smile never faltered. “I have been looking for dr. McKay. Colonel Sheppard said he likes to watch the sunset on one of these balconies from time to time…”
Her eyes narrowed as she took in his haggard appearance. “Are you well, dr. Beckett?”
“Aye.” He answered automatically, then paused for a moment and sighed heavily. “Or maybe not.”
Suddenly it all became too much. He leaned against the wall and slid down, cradling his hurting head in his hands. He felt rather than saw Teyla drop far more gracefully next to him.
“Colonel Sheppard has also told me of this decision that weighs heavily on your mind.” She confessed, suddenly realizing the Colonel had never meant for her to finddoctor McKay.
Carson’s head snapped back up, a flicker of defiance and annoyance in his blue eyes. “What does he think he is, my bloody psychiatrist?”
The gentle admonishing tone in Teyla’s voice was not unlike that one uses on a recalcitrant child. “He only did it because he is your friend. He thought you might be more comfortable talking to a woman. He said something about not being good at clearly expressing his feelings. That ‘mushy stuff’, I believe he called it.”
Carson smiled ruefully, appreciating the thought. He took a deep breath, and plunged in before he would chicken out again. “I took an oath, when I became a physician. Now, there may be different modern versions of the ancient oath, but the principle of ‘first do nae harm’ is implemented in each one of them. The original oath even explicitly states ‘I will nae give a lethal drug to anyone if I am asked…’”
Carson paused for a moment, absently staring at the horizon.
“So, that all seems quite fixed and easy, then why am I even contemplating breaking my word? I’m a bloody MD, why can I nae just follow the rules physicians have been adhering to for centuries?”
It was a rhetorical question, and Teyla didn’t break the momentary silence as he gathered his thoughts.
“But in this situation, I’m nae longer just his physician, I’m also his confidant, and his living will… And while I have nae exactly sworn I’d carry out his will, to me it counts as an oath, too.”
He looked at Teyla, a desperate plea for advice in his eyes. “I understand his reasons. As his friend, I can even accept and support his decision. But as his doctor, I’m too much of a coward to carry it out…"
Teyla’s gaze was warm and caring, and he could detect no revulsion at his admission.
"You are far from a coward, dr. Beckett." She stated matter-of-factly. "You have a gentle and caring soul that will never allow you to intentionally harm anyone. That is exactly why you doubt now. Both situations will cause harm to private Reynolds… I have faith that whatever you decide, it will only be for the good of your patient… Because you do have great courage, which is not the absence of fright, but the determination to do what is good however frightful it may be."
She smiled softly, reminiscing "Whenever I was doubtful, and unwilling to decide on a dispute amongst my people, Charin would remind me of my mother's words: 'Even though your mind may be confused, listen to your heart for it only can tell you the truth…'"
Carson bowed his head, moved by her kind words, but unable to believe them fully. “Me da’ wasted away, slowly destroyed by the cancer. Yet he fought it fiercely every step of the long and rocky road. But at a given day, he released himself from the hospital and returned to our family home. He said he’d like to see the sunset from his trusty rocking chair just one more time, surrounded by his family. And although the doctor had given him at least one more month, he died that evening, with the light of day. I did nae understand then, why he just gave up after fighting so long and hard, but later I realised. He had made peace with himself, with the universe, with his fate. He had preferred to have an ending like the sunset, quiet, peaceful and with the hope of a brand new day past the horizon.”
One single tear escaped his tight control, and his throat seemed swelled shut.
A gentle hand wiped the pearly drop away, capturing the sadness in compassion before it could fall on the cold uncaring floor. Teyla didn’t speak, because in this situation any further words would seem hollow. Instead, she hugged him.
And as he found himself sinking ever deeper into a warm embrace strongly reminding him of his dear mum’s, he saw his father smiling in the last ray of daylight.
-
6
-
Hundreds of stars glittered in the midnight sky. The vast expanse of the galaxy around him humbled him, making him very conscious of how inconspicuous he was in this cosmic play.
After all, what did one Scottish lad mean to the universe? He was just one tiny star amongst billions, shining briefly before extinguishing into black nothingness...
After fleeing from the infirmary, Carson’s feet had automatically guided him back to the same balcony as so many hours before.
But this time, he was standing alone. Ultimately, the decision was his and his alone, and although it had warmed his heart to find support with his friends, they couldn’t take this responsibility of his shoulders.
In the quiet of night, their words drifted back to him on the lapping waves of the sea.
“The whole situation is wrong. Either decision you make is right in its own way.”
He couldn’t hide behind semantics, because a passive attitude implied a conscious choice as well.
If he did nothing, private Reynolds would be whisked away on the Daedelus tomorrow, to be tucked safely somewhere in a nice little veteran’s hospital on earth, cared for by a competent staff, yes, but uncaringly cared for. A plant to be watered regularly. A few stubs of green, never to bloom again into a breathtaking flower.
And eventually, despite all the best care in the world, general decay would set in. Yes, they could slow it, prolong the suffering, but they couldn’t prevent it…
So he had to decide if that was truly what he wanted to happen to the once so lively soldier.
“You are just the CMO, not Superman…”
His education didn’t provide him any help in the matter. One of his supervising professors had once warned his students never to get emotionally involved with their patients. Sound advice… and bloody easy to say for a stuck-up nob prancing around in an ‘industrialized’ hospital who didn’t even know his own students’ names…
So vastly different from his situation, where he knew everyone from the expedition by name, many of them confiding personal things to him and even some who had become very close friends, yes, even family.
He knew histories, hopes, dreams.
He regrettably also knew how easily those could be shattered, gunned down or drained by life sucking aliens, blown away by exploding satellites or jumpers into the uncaring dark of space, or killed by his own incompetence…
Oh, God, Perna.
Why the bloody hell had he ever been so dottled as to think he could create in a few weeks what Hoffan scientists had been researching diligently for generations?
Why had he ever allowed himself to become excited when the compound had seemed to successfully repel the Wraith?
Why oh why hadn't he tempered the chancellor's exuberant enthusiasm more?
He should have known that they would be desperate enough to start inoculating before anything even vaguely resembling clinical studies. What had he expected, really? They had never heard of the bloody declaration of Helsinki, now, had they?
The daft buggers were more frightened of the extinction of their entire population than the wellbeing of one individual. The overwhelming results of their vote had driven that point home… in a very painful and unforgettable way.
On a certain impersonal level, Carson could even understand their twisted logic. His scientific mind knew that animals within a colony only live to serve the greater good; the survival of the species.
But his innate empathy would never allow him to support such a point of view…
“For every life lost, you have saved over a tenfold more. Count your successes, instead of your sorrows…”
He had become hardened, this past year, hit by the loss of too many casualties in their war against the wraith and the many other nasty surprises the Pegasus galaxy had to offer. Every patient, every friend, he lost, made another dent in his soul, provided another ghost to haunt his nightmares.
And Carson felt dangerously close to the point of breaking.
He cursed the Stargate for ever being discovered, the SGC for daring to recruit him and Atlantis herself for being the centre stage of a bloody massacre.
In response to his high-strung emotions, Atlantis responded and the balcony lights flickered on to their full dazzling power.
Momentarily blinded by the sudden onslaught of light, Carson felt a twinge of a familiar panic coming up.
He hadn't just activated one or another wee trinket by accident just now, had he?
His anger was drained away swiftly, to be replaced by a weary fear.
The lights dimmed.
God, he hoped everyone was fine. He didn't think he could handle the news of his little temper tantrum injuring a member of their crew, or God forbid, worse…
With baited breath, he waited, listening to the static in his ear set, praying that it wouldn't be broken by a frantic call for technical or medical assistance.
But no such call came.
Only after 5 minutes, Carson forced himself to relax, finding his hands twinge painfully when he unclenched them from their frantic grip on the balcony railing.
His friends were still safe… for now. Until a new day brought along its myriad of obstacles.
A new day that one man may not wish to see…
"Even though your mind may be confused, your heart will tell you the truth"
Jeffrey Reynolds may not have excelled in any kind of way, but he was an extraordinary man.
He had loved deeply, and then lost all he ever had hold dear and believed in. His home, his freedom, his health, his wife, his unborn child… And still he had fought every obstacle set on his path, stubbornly refusing to give in, still able to find beauty in a life many saw as aimless.
He had trusted Carson with his story, and Carson felt honoured and humbled to have learned the intense sadness, wisdom and courage behind a seemingly unremarkable man.
And because of his great admiration for that strong-willed spirit that refused to bow to the cruel winds of Fate, he now contemplated breaking his oath. Going against all he had ever practised in his chosen profession.
But his heart reminded him of another oath he had once sworn, a much longer time ago.
It hadn't been official. There had been no other witness except for mayhap a wee little cricket or two. But that oath he would hold sacred above any others.
Because it had been sworn on the dying light in his father's eyes…
He took a deep liberating breath, his mind suddenly extraordinary clear and at peace.
His heart remembered the pride shining in those vivid blue eyes.
Well, in this world, he might be just a tiny inconspicuous star, but he could do his best to shine as brightly as he could, to be a light for others for as long as he possibly could.
And, when his time would come, he would admire the sunset, knowing it announced a new dawn. Knowing because of his belief that love could cross all borders, even transcending space and time…
After one last smile at his ‘earth’ star, Carson Beckett returned to the infirmary.
-
7
-
The silence felt no longer oppressing, but soothing.A moment of perfect peace in the usually hectic wing that served as Atlantis’ infirmary.
Carson’s watch told him it was past 3 o’clock.
His pounding head told him he would be in a horizontal position within the next half hour, whether he chose to or not.
But now that the decision was made, Carson didn’t need his brain anymore. In fact, he preferred not to think overly much right now, and not only because of the now fierce head-ache that was starting to blur the edges of his sight.
His skilled hands worked autonomous, having gone through similar procedures countless times before, their sequences ingrained and deftly executed without the slightest hint of hesitation.
Donning a pair of surgical gloves.
His father’s hands, searching blindly across the blanket for something to hold on to.
Retrieving a vial from the locked medicine cabinet.
His own, much smaller hands, trembling as they reached out to touch his father’s.
Unwrapping a syringe from its sterile containment bag.
The unexpected strength in the old knotted hands as they squeezed back reassuringly.
Easing the syringe through the vial’s seal.
The warmth in his father’s touch mirrored by the immeasurable love in those ancient eyes.
Gently withdrawing the plunger.
The pride in his trembling voice as he had attempted to speak his last words to his son.
Putting the vial down on the bed side table.
I know you’ll grow up to be a fine lad. I’ll be there watching you, son. Always in your heart.
Squirting a small amount of fluid out of the syringe.
The feeling his failing voice refused to articulate, burning in those blazing blue eyes.
Checking for any remaining air bubbles.
His own choked up words as he reflected aloud his father’s sentiment.
Finding the port of the IV line.
I love you too, da’, and I’ll ne’er forget…
Inserting the syringe.
The last brilliant spark of life fleeing into the night.
-
8
-
He didn’t remember falling asleep.
But when he awoke, it was in a strangely distorted world of hazy images and buzzing sounds.
And pain.
A white hot pain crawling around inside his body like a snake of fire.
Time behaved most peculiarly, speeding up and slowing down in an unnatural pattern of disjoint lucid moments interspersed with periods of soothing darkness.
Rodney yelling at him. Nurse Betty’s large dark eyes glittering with unshed tears. Dr. Biro’s angry muttering as she had started an IV in his arm. The disappointment in Colonel Sheppard’s face looming over him. A frantic buzz of voices shouting instructions for reanimation procedures.
"Get me that defibrilator STAT!"
One moment of perfect clarity swam to the surface of the muddy pool of memories. Inserting the syringe in Jeffrey Reynolds’ IV. Bringer of Death on the wings of everlasting slumber.
"Give him an amp of epinephrine!"
The other disjointed memories now all seemed to make sense. They had evidently found out about the euthanasia, and despite all prior talk, hadn’t taken too kindly to it.
"Charge it to 200 joules!"
Despite the consequences for himself, Carson couldn’t help but hoping their resuscitation attempts wouldprove to betoo late. Private Reynolds had deserved his rest…
"Stand clear!"
Pain exploded through his body, setting all nerve endings on fire. Mercifully, the world blinked out of existence completely.
-
9
-
“Carson?”
The female voice was sweet, and set his heart aflame.
His eyes flew open in surprise.
It couldn’t possibly be…
Sparkling blue eyes smiled down at him, partially obscured by loose strands of sun kissed blond hair.
“Perna?” He whispered incredulously.
She smiled in that special way that made his heart do cartwheels in his chest.
“Carson.” She echoed dryly, bringing her face so close to his that some blond strands tickled his cheek. And captured his lips in a sweet kiss.
Carson’s heart executed a quadruple inverted somersault.
His lips however caught on faster than his numb brain and they answered the kiss with all the desperation of an addict in withdrawal.
After experiencing a glimpse of eternity, the world righted itself again and he opened his eyes. Perna gazed down lovingly as she gently rubbed his temples.
Miraculously, her expertly kneading fingers drove his head ache away, clearing up most of the fuzziness inside his brain.
Sleepy dazedness was replaced by curiosity.
He blinked, several times, rationally knowing that his eyes were deceiving him, that her voice was merely a figment of his imagination and that her touch was only some erroneously firing sensory neurons.
But she didn’t waver, didn’t dissolve in the ghost that haunted his nightmares. In fact, she felt impossibly real.
“I am real.” She smiled softly, taking his right hand and bringing it to her breast.
He could feel her heart beating strong and steady under his fingers.
“But, but…” He swallowed the sadness away that threatened to choke him. “You are dead…”
Perna nodded. “Yes, at least, my body is.”
She took his limp left hand, and put it over his own chest, meanwhile keeping his right hand over her heart. “But my heart still lives on... In you…”
And Carson felt under his fingertips two strong hearts beating… in perfect synchrony.
Unbidden, it brought back the memory of desperately feeling for her non existent pulse on Hoff. Overcome by the loss like it was that very moment when she had left him alone, he squeezed his eyes shut.
Two pearly tears slid down his cheek, but slender fingers gently erased their tracks.
“You will never be alone. I’ll be watching. Always in your heart.”
Opening his eyes again, blinking furiously to clear his watery vision as she spoke those familiar words. His father’s last words.
How could she know, he had never…
Perna gently stroke his cheek, her blue eyes captivating him.
“Oh, my dear Carson, always so full of questions. So desperately looking for answers. I know because I know your father, like I know all the others. I know the ones you have tried to save. I know their gratitude for you not giving up hope, for doing everything you possibly could and more. The ghosts that haunt your nightmares are only spectres, figments of your imagination, personifications of the sorrows that you allow to take up residence in your heart. Their true spirits are not angry or sad, and they do not wish you any harm. On the contrary. They want to help you.”
Carson blinked befuddled. He felt incredibly slow on the uptake.
“That’s because you do not belong in this world yet. You are still too bound to your body to see clearly.” Perna explained.
Now wait one wee moment… She could read his thoughts! If he didn’t feel so weak, he would have hit himself in the head for being so daft as to only discover this blatantly obvious fact only just now.
Perna smiled a tad sadly. “Yes, but there is no need to hurt yourself even more, Carson, your body is already severely weakened.”
He frowned, vaguely remembering an excruciating pain.
“Your heart stopped. They are attempting reanimation right now…” Perna informed him quietly.
What? He didn’t remember getting injured.
“You caught a severe viral infection…” She explained quietly, and smiled. “But you will heal. There is still a task waiting for you. I want you to remember my words and take them with you on your path. The ones who love you are never truly gone. We are right here, behind the horizon, but not out of reach. You will never walk your path alone, as long as you let us in, we will always be beside you. And when the road gets difficult, we will carry you across any obstacles. We are proud of you, and we wish you the very best. I love you, Carson, and I will for all of eternity. But, please, don't be afraid to accept love again. Don’t look back in regret for too long, or you may miss the beautiful sights in front of you.”
Perna’s image slowly faded, and he started to feel increasingly heavy. Desperately, he reached for her hand, but touched only emptiness. Disappointed, he allowed the beckoning darkness to envelop him.
But before the light disappeared completely, he felt soft lips touch his, whispering: "Always in your heart…"
-
10
-
It was peaceful and quiet in the gently rolling glens of his homeland.
He walked along the old familiar path to his favourite spot in the middle of the meadow, below the majestic ancient oak tree.
A tiny river meandered its way down the hill side, a silver thread between grey rocks and lush green grass. Some white dots moved lazily in the distant green. Little fluffy earthbound clouds on feet.
He sat down in the tree’s shade, enjoying the song of a lark overhead.
But gradually, the lark’s song started to sound ever more shrill, mutating into a human voice.
A loud voice that permeated the cocoon of pleasant fuzziness he was wrapped in. A loud, whiny and very familiar voice.
Sleep threatened to drag him off again, but stubborn curiosity won the battle.
He opened bleary eyes, surprised to find his surroundings equally hazy as his thoughts. Blinking a couple of times helped marginally, but also served to aggravate an upcoming head-ache, which was helped along nicely by the near-yelling to his right.
“How many times do I have to tell you voodoo practitioners in order to get it through your thick skulls? Those little symbols in my chart, they are called letters, and they spell out that I’m deadly allergic to anything citrus-related!”
Rodney McKay in full-irritation mode.
The answering voice belonged to Betty Kent, the recent but very promising addition to his nursing staff “But, doctor McKay, yellow Jell-O doesn’t contain anything even remotely related to citrus!”
She had no sense of self-preservation at all. Or, more likely, hadn’t gotten enough hands-on experience with a certain whiny convalescing astrophysicist yet.
“Does the term ‘psychosomatic’ even appear in those voodoo text books? I am finding myself repeating this over and over again, but does anyone ever pay heed to a single word I say. Unless, of course, when it concerns those all too frequent life-or-death situations when they suddenly need my genius to save their sorry hides?” Rodney seemed somewhat miffed, and a lot bored.
Which in Carson’s experience was terrific news, seeing that whenever the stubborn scientist felt himself fit enough to rant, he was nicely on the mend.
A low moan had him re-evaluating Rodney’s physical well-being.
Betty admonished softly. “Easy now, dr. McKay. That arm is still healing and you won’t be able to use it properly for quite some time. So, unless you plan on having your stitches redone, I suggest you refrain from waving it around. Now, if you would please inform me as to what you would prefer for dessert, I’ll see to it and we will both be happy.”
Rodney grumbled something Carson didn’t quite catch. He was pretty sure what Betty disappeared to go in search for, though.
A small smile played over Carson’s lips as he recalled a similar conversation.
“Nice to see you’re enjoying yourself, Carson.” The annoyed voice sounded quite nearby now, and slowly his eyes focussed on the blurry form of one extremely pissed off astrophysicist shuffling slowly towards his bed.
“R’ney.” Carson slurred, and then tried to ask how his friend was doing, but managed to produce only a vague string of mostly consonants. The effort was rewarded by a painful bout of coughing that left him gasping and drooling helplessly.
“Is that Gaelic, Carson, or has your area of Broca finally been fried during your latest fever attack?” Rodney tried to sound peeved, but the worry was clearly written in his expressive face. With surprising gentleness, he wiped the drool of Carson’s face, and Carson noticed detachedly that the tissue was stained red when Rodney quickly tossed it away.
Then, his brain switched into a higher gear as he saw similarly coloured splotches on the once-white bandage around Rodney’s immobilised arm.
“You ‘kay?” He tried to articulate carefully and this time Rodney caught on.
“I’m fine, Carson, you on the other hand are an absolute certified mess!” He huffed with all of his usual tact, meanwhile casually offering his friend some ice chips. “You caught the same bug you spend 4 days curing me of. Honestly, man, do you voodoo practitioners not even have enough common sense to take care of yourselves? Does ‘Cura te ipsum’ ring a bell?”
Carson admired the scientist’s impressive eye-roll as the ice soothed his aching throat and washed away the metallic flavour of blood.
The more worried Rodney was, the more he tried to cover it up with snarkiness, and the more easy he became for Carson to read.
“Pot callin’ the kettle black.” The physician grinned, finding his tongue and throat now much more cooperative.
A pair of raised eyebrows answered that statement, and a small smile played on Rodney’s lips. Confused, Carson felt he was missing some inside joke, but he elaborated nonetheless: “You were quite elusive when that arm needed rebandaging…”
Rodney gave him a disdainful superior look. “I can’t cure myself, now, can I, Carson? I am not the witch doctor rattling his blood pressure cuff, drumming on his stethoscope and sticking needles into dolls and humans alike!”
“Besides,” he added while proudly puffing up his chest, “I was busy working a miracle!”
Carson stared back uncomprehendingly.
The glazed look in his eyes must have sparked Rodney’s worry into overdrive again. “Carson, are you okay? Just how hard did you hit your head?”
“Hit my head?” Carson frowned, not remembering hitting anything.
Rodney glanced around the empty infirmary, sighed, dragged up a chair, grabbed a blanket and settled himself comfortably next to Carson’s bed.
“Let’s recapitulate for a moment here. I’m sure I can spark a memory…”
-
11
-
Rodney rushed through the hallways of Atlantis like the energizer bunny on speed.
Earlier, he had narrowly avoided bumping into Teyla –in truth the active avoiding had been entirely due to Teyla’s quick reflexes- …, and just why exactly had she called him and chased him?
He hadn’t meant to seem rude, when he had jumped in the transporter and immediately hit the panel before she had had the chance to catch up with him.
Time was simply of the utter essence here, and he was quickly running out of it.
That had become blatantly obvious to him when the hallway lights had suddenly flared up very brightly, lighting up a small section of Atlantis like a facsimile Christmas tree.
Carson’s feelings wrecking havoc with Atlantis’ sensors.
Any genius could draw the conclusion easily.
After anger came acceptance…
And he had still a long way to run, dragging along an incredibly heavy gizmo with one hand and trying to ignore the fierce pain in his other –injured- arm.
All the way cursing himself for not wearing a head set (originally it had sounded like a good idea to provide a valid excuse to ignore annoying physicians and psychologists), cursing the Ancients for not building more transporters and cursing the Pegasus galaxy for staging such adrenaline robbing events.
Eventually, as per usual, he made it in the nick of time.
At the last possible microsecond before the apocalypse.
“Stop! Carson, don’t!” His voice sounded shrill, which he attributed to an utter lack of air in his heaving lungs.
His friend looked up, still holding the syringe he had just inserted in the IV port.
Rodney was incredibly relieved to see the plunger wasn’t depressed yet.
“Pull… that thing… out… immediately!” Rodney yelled, panting heavily all the while. “I have…” Taking in a big gulp of air.”… a cure!”
Carson blinked several times, apparently somewhat slow on the uptake, waking up from a daydream, but finally realization dawned. His tired blue eyes conveyed his trust in Rodney. For all he knew, it could simply be a lie to overpower him and make sure he didn’t harm his comatose patient…
Carson carefully extracted the syringe from the IV and put it on a nearby table, not quite tossing it into the garbage bin just yet.
Wordlessly, he gazed at Rodney, his eyes holding a tiny spark of hope.
Rodney grinned, pleased by Carson’s trust in him. Meanwhile, he had finally gathered enough air into his lungs that he estimated he could string several words together without doing an impression of a dying fish.
“This device” He tried to lift it in triumph, but already taxed arm muscles protested painfully and he settle for briefly shaking it, before dropping it gently on a nearby bed. “This device is able of stimulating cell division and growth...” He tapped it fondly. “of any human cells…”
Carson caught on quickly: “Including neurons?” His tone was so hesitatingly hopeful that it cut Rodney right in his heart.
“Yes!” Rodney affirmed, bubbling with barely contained enthusiasm. “I have spent the entire day testing it on cells and later on two of your mice. I even asked Doctor Rogers for her opinion, and –naturally- she agrees with me that it works miraculously without any short-term complications!”
Carson’s eyes lit up fully, like a little boy when given candy, and the sight warmed Rodney’s heart. “Really? That’s wonderful news, Rodney! Of course we’ll have to do some testing and get a long-term follow-up study to detect any complications, but…”
Rodney’s face fell, and immediately Carson’s joy faded.
“I’m sorry, Carson, but we can’t wait to try this out.” He hung his head. “I noticed too late that the power source was nearly empty, and this technology is unlike any I’ve ever seen, completely organic with a …” He trailed off.
Damn, it hurt to admit it. “I can’t fix it when the energy drops below the critical threshold needed for the device to work…”
The sad imploring look the physician gave him, made Rodney feel as if he had kicked a puppy. Unable to meet the steady probing gaze of those soulful eyes, he looked intently at the softly glowing device under his hand.
“But, according to my calculations, there should be enough energy left for one try on a human subject…”
A hand on his good shoulder caused him to flinch, but the warm grip didn’t waver.
“Thank you, Rodney.” Carson whispered softly.
He looked up into blue eyes that had regained their full sparkle.
“Thank you for giving me another choice. For believing in a solution after everyone has given up. For being so bloody stubborn as to jeopardise your own health by working yourself in to a right mess…”
The shy smile was typically Carson, giving a glow to his entire face, dimpling his cheeks and lighting up his eyes.
Rodney gave his own trademark crooked grin: “The pot calling the kettle black, huh? That’s really rich coming from the guy who spent the last three days indulging in the most obscure voodoo rituals in order to keep my soul from crossing the Styx...” He would never admit it in so many words, but gratitude shone in ever line of his expressive face.
For a moment they both shared a silent understanding.
Then, Carson waved the remaining tension away. “Nah, you’d never pay Charon to get you across by such utterly primitive pretechnological means as a rowing boat. Not to mention you could bark that three-headed dog right in to submission…”
The physician reverently touched the ancient device on the bed, which immediately starting glowing even more brightly then Rodney had ever seen it do before.
“Now, how will we be activating this wee trinket?”
-
12
-
Carson remembered.
The device lighting up brightly under his hand, the warmth flowing through his body, the gentle guidance from Rodney, the glorious feeling of healing what he had been convinced of had been beyond any repair...
After that, things were more fuzzy.
Rodney had collapsed, the combination of fatigue, hypoglycemia and pain becoming too overwhelming after his last wee bit of adrenaline had ebbed away.
Carson had managed to manoeuvre him onto a bed and start a glucose IV, but then his own body had failed him, spectacularly. He didn’t quite remember the actual blacking out, but the disjointed memories he had seen earlier now made sense
Nurse Betty’s large concerned tearful eyes as she washed blood of his face. “Oh, Carson, I’m so sorry I didn’t check back on you earlier…”
Doctor Biro inserting an IV while muttering mock-angrily about stubborn chief medical officers not taking care of themselves, the sentiment belied by her proud affectionate gaze.
Colonel Sheppard’s face looming over his: “Hey, Doc, you did real good. Now try to stay awake for a little bit longer…” displaying disappointment and fear just before the darkness ensnared him again.
The frantic voices of his staff shouting for ampoules of epinephrine and atropine. The low whine of a defibrillator.
The explosion of pain as the electric jolt set all his nerve endings on fire.
“You died, Carson.” Rodney confirmed solemnly, the anguish clearly written in haunted blue eyes. “You went into cardiac arrest and for the longest time, they couldn’t properly restart your heart…” He swallowed, then tried a lighter note: “Are you sure you’re not part Irish, Carson, because you definitely seem to be having their luck?”
Carson grinned weakly in response, but one thing was still lying too heavily on his mind to relax and give in to the beckoning slumber.
“How is Private Reynolds doing?”
Rodney’s bright smile proved contagious. “A miracle healing, even if I say so myself! Some more and we can apply for the title of Saint! He’s currently sleeping…” The scientist gestured to one of the isolation rooms, “Well, trying to sleep anyway, as he keeps being bothered by half of your staff, who just can’t believe it’s true until they get to see his readings for themselves. Doctor Biro’s incredibly optimistic, blabbering about a full recovery without any lasting damage, which -coming from that morbid woman- is simply saying it all …”
Carson allowed himself to sag deeper into the pillow as his eyelids were loosing their battle with gravity.
An awkward pat on his hand accompanied Rodney’s soft “Sweet dreams”
And sweet they were.
-
13
-
When he woke up, he felt refreshed, and ready to tackle the world again.
A soft snoring to his right drew his attention to a slumbering Rodney McKay sagged uncomfortably in a nearby chair.
“He’s just as stubborn as you are…” A female voice drifted from across the room. “Refuses to take care of himself properly and insisting he has to guard you from our dubious voodoo practises…”
“Hullo, Betty.” He smiled gently.
Betty approached his bed, but suddenly veered slightly of course to carefully tuck in a part of Rodney’s blanket that had come loose, adjusting the sleeping scientist’s IV and settling his bandaged arm in a more comfortable position. Rodney happily dreamed on, drooling slightly and making tiny sighs as he cuddled the blanket tighter.
Carson’s smile broadened when she finally turned to him, cocking an eyebrow.
“He’s not an easy man, but he’s a very good friend…” She said softly as she started fussing over Carson next.
“Aye, that he is…” Carson agreed whole-heartedly.
“And so are you.” Betty squeezed his hand. “You did good, dr. Beckett. We’re all very proud of you!”
A sliver of the familiar doubt started nagging at the edges of his mind. “Did I, now? We were very lucky that Rodney came up with his miracle just in the nick of time, otherwise…” He closed his eyes, unwilling to imagine but unable to ignore the repercussions his initial decision would have caused.
“Otherwise… ,” Betty continued firmly,”… we would still be proud of a man who had the courage to put another man’s hopes and wishes before his own…”
Baby blue eyes snapped open and stared intently at her.
Unfazed, she concluded: “I personally believe you made the right decision, and many agree with me. But the most important thing is that one specific person approved. In fact, he asked to see you the moment you woke up, if you feel up to it?”
Carson nodded wordlessly, suddenly finding something acutely constricting his throat.
It seemed only a second before she returned, pushing a wheel chair, and yet it was the longest second of his life.
And there, sitting in the chair with bright grey eyes that were no longer dull and unfocussed but beaming and sparkling with life, was Private Reynolds.
Carson’s trained eye critically evaluated the sickly pallor and the slight creases in his forehead indicative of a bothersome head-ache, but also took in the returning blush on his cheeks, and the genuine smile that stretched from ear to ear.
“Heya, doc!” Jeffrey Reynolds rolled himself the last inches closer to Carson’s bed, while Betty quietly disappeared.
Carson smiled back somewhat hesitantly, half expecting to be physically or verbally lashed for trying to murder the now very much alive soldier.
Therefore, it was perfectly understandable that he flinched when two arms wrapped themselves tightly around his torso.
It took him the better part of a minute to figure out he was being hugged, rather than strangled, and half a minute more before he leaned into the touch and awkwardly returned it.
No matter how many times his nurses affirmed (supposedly behind his back) how utterly ‘huggable’ he looked, he had never felt comfortable engaging into such close physical contact. Never mind with a man…
But as a doctor, he had learned that different people cope with stress in vastly different ways, and that touching served as a powerful link to the ‘real world’.
Nevertheless, he was immeasurably relieved when Private Reynolds pulled back.
The man looked very sheepish: “I’m sorry, doc, I’m usually not that clingy. But… well… it’s just that your touch has kept me grounded during these past months. It conveyed compassion and warmth and strength, and it comforted me greatly in a cold and lonely world. I just needed proof that this is all really happening, that this is not just another dream that will end in a cold and dark place again. That, and I find no better way to put my gratitude in words.”
Carson dropped his gaze, not quite willing to believe that the emotion in those bright grey was pure hero-worship.
“I’m sorry I nearly… killed you. I’ll understand it if you won’t be trusting me anymore. We can arrange for some other physician in the future to…”
But the soldier’s voice gently cut him of:“If anything, doc, I now trust you more. You were willing to respect my wishes, even at great personal cost.”
Surprised blue eyes interlocked with solemn grey ones.
“I know the Hippocratic oath says ‘first do no harm’, but I think they left out the interpretation that doing emotional harm is just as bad –or maybe even worse- than physical harm… I fully support you decision to perform euthanasia. It was truly my will and in the given circumstances you have acted exactly as I would have wanted it. You couldn’t know about some alien device popping up at the latest possible moment! If you had strictly followed your oath, and dr McKay had never found out the device’s purpose, I would have been taken back to earth on the Daedalus and my ‘life’ would have become my worst nightmare…”
The truth rang clearly in private Reynolds’ words, and set Carson’s heart free.
“Not that I mind being fully functional again, “ the soldier quipped lightly before turning serious again, “For that I must thank you too. As I understand it, you nearly died trying to save me…”
Uncomfortable with so much gratitude and praise, Carson tried to belittle his own part. “You’re very welcome, lad, but really, the majority of the work has been done by Rodney…”
“And I will thank him properly too.” Reynolds nodded to their resident Sleeping Beauty, who showed the first signs of returning to the land of the waking.
Sparking a forgotten memory.
Carson started grinning. “If you’ll be wanting to thank him, there will be a tiny cup in my top desk drawer he’ll be extremely pleased with to receive…” He send a meaningful look to nurse Betty who had returned just in time to hear the last part of their conversation. She winked and went to retrieve the mysterious item.
Nonplussed, Reynolds blinked a few times.
Even when Betty returned and handed him the cup in question, he still was no closer to figuring out how exactly this trivial little thing would please the exacting astrophysicist.
Meanwhile, Rodney had passed his sleepy blinking stage of waking and bleary blue eyes slowly focussed.
On the cup in Private Reynolds’ hands.
“Ooooh!” He slurred slightly, becoming more alert with every passing second. “That for me?” He inquired with a soulful puppy-dog look that would have made Col. Sheppard extremely proud.
Reynolds extended the cup with a hesitant smile. “I would like to thank you, dr McKay, for helping save my life…”
He was momentarily struck speechless as the Canadian’s good arm suddenly snatched the cup with lightning speed and impeccable precision. Nimble fingers made quick work of uncapping its lid, and then snatched the spoon Betty was conveniently dangling in front of him.
“Mmmmmmmmm…” He looked positively elated as he sampled the cup’s contents. “This is divine…” He mumbled around a spoonful, sending a grateful look to a baffled Reynolds.
Carson grinned, feeling that everything was all right again in his world as he watched Rodney’s tongue make love with red Jell-O…
-
14
-
Still.
She looked so still.
And pale. Almost translucent.
And not even a whole galaxy of ancient devices could ever bring her back from the place she had gone to...
Her eyes a pale blue. Sparkless. Unseeing. Staring at him accusingly from the great beyond.
Sucking the life out of him more efficiently then any Wraith army ever could.
An agonizing pain in his chest brought him back from hazy half-consciousness into the full harshness of reality.
And when the Wraith Queen fed upon him one last time, Carson wept.Not because of the fierce pain.
Not because of the last bit of his life draining away.
But because of one seemingly inconspicuous star that had been extinguished a while ago.
One little star that had once been his entire sky…
And darkness fell.
With a gasp, Carson sat up boldly in bed.
A sleep-riddled voice beside him whispered: “Another nightmare, sweetheart?”
Strong but gentle arms wrapped around him, effectively shielding him from the terrors in his dreams.
She softly kissed him.
He felt the ghost of another set of lips.
And an echo in his heart: ‘Don’t look back in regret for too long, or you may miss the beautiful sights in front of you.’
He leant into the kiss.
Even though Laura Cadman may one day become his world, Perna would always be his galaxy…
-
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Stargate Atlantis, its characters and all related entities are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and The SciFi Channel. Story created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.