Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Stargate: Atlantis or its wonderful characters. All original characters are my fault, as well as the plot.

Author's Note: As I was writing "What Makes a Man," I watched the Season 5 episode "Whispers" as a time marker in the story. I was struck by the character of Carson Beckett. With that one small thought, this story was born. Special thanks to theicemenace for beta work and Ani-maniac494 for help proofing and brainstorming. You gals make it easy and fun to write! Also, this story is something of a sequel/companion to my Keller/Lorne story "No Matter What." It's not necessary to read that one, though this may contain some spoilers for it. I'll try to explain them if I do use anything. And, since this is set in Season 5, consider this a spoiler warning for anything and any time in the show. I hope you enjoy my idea of what it must have been to be a doctor, traveling the Pegasus galaxy and giving hope to those ravaged by Michael. ~lg

oOo

"Hope is faith holding out its hand in the dark." ~George Iles

oOo

Carson approached the door to the tiny cabin and stepped inside. This had once been a refuge for him, a place where he escaped the horror and suffering of the clinic. In the last two days, it had been turned into its own clinic.

Omari glanced up from her seat next to the window and simply offered him a smile. The woman was barely out of her own sickbed, but she'd willingly helped him. Carson set aside his stained lab coat and touched her shoulder. "How is she?"

"Not good." Omari shook her head, her voice weak as she turned to the pallet on the floor. Her pretty blond hair had thinned in recent weeks, a testament of her struggle against the modified Hoffan virus. She'd lost weight, as well, but her green eyes burned brightly. Maybe a touch too brightly, because Carson thought he saw tears.

Carson frowned at her. "And how are you feelin,' lass?"

"I am. . .fine." Omari shrugged off his hand. "Carson, you are a good man. You need not concern yourself with me."

"On the contrary." Carson headed for the kitchen area of the cabin. "You're my friend, and that means I worry. Especially since you should also be in one of those beds. At least for a few more days."

Omari blew a raspberry at him.

Rather than continuing the argument, Carson set out the canned goods he'd brought from the infirmary storeroom. Canned meat and veggies wouldn't be the most palatable meal, but it would give him strength for the long night ahead. Before long, however, he'd have to call in help or risk his own physical break-down. He'd kept up with his injections from Dr. Keller, but that only stopped the necrosis in his internal organs. It provided no other nutrition on which he could rely.

Rustling came from within the sheets hung around the sick bed, and Omari shuffled inside. The women's voices could be heard, one rougher than the other. Carson blinked away the sudden rush of tears as he listened. He could still recall the last woman he'd lost to this virus. Perna had been one of the creators, one of those responsible for this nightmare. So was he, and he lived with that every day.

Because of him, the woman he loved was dying. Again. Carson set a plate of food on the table for Omari, knowing he'd have a difficult time holding anything down. He'd kept these thoughts at bay for so long that they begged for release. Just as his emotions did. Instead, he tamped them down and put on his doctor's face. He used it every day to comfort and soothe the fears of the dying. He knew nothing to help with this illness, nothing that he'd tried did much besides managing the symptoms. Who lived and who died seemed entirely random, as did the treatments that made the difference.

Did he have the strength to lose another woman to the Hoffan drug? Carson dropped into a chair and picked at his food just to keep Omari from fussing at him. Even worse than knowing that he was about to lose another woman to the Hoffan drug was the knowledge that he'd helped create this version of it. Of course, he'd been in Michael's custody all that time and really had no choice in the matter, but it still hurt. A lot. Omari didn't know half of what Carson knew about this disease.

The curtains pushed to the side, and Omari stepped out. "She's asking for you."

Carson set down his fork without having ever taken a bite and entered the "sickroom." He'd originally hung the curtains to give her privacy in the one-room cabin they shared. But, now, it kept her separated from the rest of the sick. Rather than letting his worry show, he smiled.

"Carson." Her voice was whisper-soft, and her blue eyes smiled at him. She had an oxygen cannula around her ears, and she drew on it frequently. Her breathing came in short spurts, almost like Perna's had at this stage.

He knelt next to her pallet and took her hand in his. "Hello, love."

She smiled at the endearment, not really understanding how much he meant it. "You're worried?"

"Aye." He nodded.

"I'm too sick, aren't I?"

"Aye," he said again. It was the truth. She should have started to recover by now. He really needed to go over her medical records and figure out why she'd been hit this hard.

"Maybe it's scarring on my lungs." She'd picked up on his thoughts and sought for an explanation. "I had pneumonia a couple times when I was young. Wouldn't that do this?"

"It could." He shifted to where he was sitting on the floor rather than kneeling. Part of him wanted to stretch out and hold her close to him, giving her a softer pillow than just the wooden floor. But he might be called away during the night again.

She drew on the oxygen once again, and her eyes, normally a vibrant blue, faded just a touch. They fluttered open. "I'm sorry." She pulled her hand from his and touched his face. "This isn't your fault."

She fell asleep before he could tell her that it was. Carson gently laid her hand back on her stomach and stared at her face. Her brown hair was oily and clinging to her sweaty face. The fever that ravaged her body had been multiplied. Omari's illness, while it still clung to her, hadn't been this bad.

Rather than leaving her alone, Carson stayed next to her. Omari poked her head inside and whispered that she was leaving. He nodded, thankful that she would get her rest. And it left him alone with his thoughts.

Last time, he had no idea what to do about the illness. This time, however, he was better equipped. He knew how this virus had been designed, how it worked, and what counteracted it. Unfortunately, none of those remedies had helped. He turned back to the woman on the pallet, seeing past her pale skin and shallow breaths. Even now, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. His past with Perna aside, he knew he would never stop loving this woman, no matter how this ended for her.

That made his decision. For days, he'd considered pushing the "help button," as Colonel Sheppard called it. Ever since she fell ill a week ago, he'd thought about returning to Atlantis. He'd always put it off because she rallied. But a quick check of her vitals told him that her fever had spiked. She may not get another chance, he thought.

"Just hang in there, lass." Carson brushed her hair from her face. "I'll be back. Just. . .hang on!"

He left the curtained area and rushed to the clinic. Omari was still awake, still moving around the clinic and helping others. He carefully stepped through the pallets and touched her shoulder. "I need to go to the gate and. . . .Can you stay with her?"

Omari nodded. "You are calling your people?"

"Aye." Carson sighed and rubbed his eyes. "She needs help I can't provide."

Omari simply touched his elbow and headed back to the cabin. Carson watched her go, grateful beyond words for what she'd done up until now. With someone in the cabin, he set out on foot. The moon was full, and the path to the Stargate well-lit. Once there, the glow of the chevrons lit his face as he dialed and fished a radio from his pocket. After entering his IDC, he activated the radio. "Atlantis base, this is Carson Beckett. Please come in."

"Dr. Beckett, this is Mr. Woolsey." The bureaucrat's matter-of-fact manner came over the radio link. "What can we do for you?"

"I have a patient who needs advanced medical care." He rubbed his face. "Colonel Sheppard said to call if I needed anythin'."

After a moment, Woolsey's voice came back. "I've informed Dr. Keller, and she should be ready to head out within the half hour. Is there anything we can do until then?"

"No." Carson triggered the radio once more. "Beckett out." More tired and alone than he'd ever been, he sat down next to the DHD and waited.

oOo

Carson walked through the halls of Atlantis, following the hospital bed. When Keller came through, she wore hazmat gear and brought a portable medical isolation unit with her. Carson had helped load the patient into the unit and carried any personal effects that might be needed back through the gate. Now, he blinked at the sudden change in light. It was late afternoon, early evening here on New Lantea, not nearly midnight.

Ahead of him, Keller spoke rapidly to the nurses with her. The patient was in some sort of coma, and Jennifer wanted to get her under a scanner to figure out how serious her illness really was. Carson could have told them that she'd die if they didn't do something soon. But he couldn't. He was too tired, and his emotions were too involved. He couldn't speak, even if he'd tried.

In the infirmary, Carson watched as Jennifer drew back the plastic curtains of the infirmary's isolation unit. The orange suits of medical personnel hovered, getting fresh oxygen to the patient while starting the scanner and taking vitals. As they worked, alarms began blaring, and Jennifer whirled suddenly.

"She's crashing!"

With those two words, Carson's entire world collapsed.

~TBC