Many thanks to ga unicorn and linken for the beta

John was in Elizabeth's office and he wasn't happy.

"You shouldn't do this." He sat down on the chair in front of her desk, frustrated with the ongoing argument.

"We've already decided a team needs to go to Hoff and assess the situation there. I realize that it would be very hard on Carson. I would never force him to go, John," Weir said in her most reasonable tone. She was sitting at her desk, playing with a small coin and avoiding eye contact. Of all people, John Sheppard knew her best and if anybody could make her change a decision, it was him. She wanted to protect Carson, but at the same time she felt a need to help the Hoffans.

"Is this the expedition leader speaking, or Carson's friend?" John asked, trying to keep an even tone.

"As a friend I would never ask this of him, but as the expedition leader I have to send a team to Hoff, and I would like my best people to be on that team. He was part of the team that went there initially, there's no one who knows more than him."

"Do you realize what this will mean to him? He'll be haunted by this decision, no matter which one it is." John's voice showed a mixture of sadness, worry and frustration. He knew there was no other way, but he couldn't stop hoping for another solution.

"I know." Elizabeth bowed her head, trying to conceal her feelings. She knew this would hurt Carson, but she had no choice. She activated the comm: "Carson, would you please come to my office?"

"One moment," came the reply.

"Do you want me to stay?" John asked, watching her closely. He had no idea how she was going to handle this and wasn't sure that he should be there as a spectator.

"Yes, please. You were there when it happened, I think it would be best if you were here."

A few minutes later, Carson joined them.

"Please, sit down." Elizabeth invited with a smile on her face. All those years of diplomacy taught her how to smile whenever the situation needed it.

"How can I help you, Elizabeth?" Carson asked, curious about the summons.

"Is everything okay in the infirmary?" Weir asked, delaying the coming storm.

"Aye. Rodney had a little accident and now he's driving the nurses mad. As always."

Carson expected at least John to chuckle. He knew that Rodney was the same with John and the man usually enjoyed his small jokes. But now the colonel was serious.

"So, why did you call me, Elizabeth?" Carson asked, sobering.

"We're sending a team to Hoff. I wanted to ask you if… Carson?" Elizabeth stopped, concerned as the doctor suddenly paled. "Are you okay?"

His hands trembled despite his best efforts to keep them still. "You want me to go back? I… I…"

John went to his side and touched the doctor's shoulder, offering support. He jerked back when Carson suddenly rose from the chair.

"How can you ask this of me?" Carson choked out and stormed out of the office, ignoring all the staring eyes in the control room.

"That went well." John said, dryly.

"There was no other way to ask him." Elizabeth said defensively.

"Well, you have your answer."

"Do you blame me for this, John?" Her voice sounded like a dare. He made her feel heartless. It was hard to do her job and maintain friendships. The past few weeks, that seemed harder than ever. She had to make decision that couldn't be explained. Her hopes that they would trust her enough to respect those decisions seemed far fetched at the moment.

"It's just that… he's hurt. He's blamed himself for the Hoffans dying; this won't help him get past the guilt."

"I know. But he needed to know about the mission. He'll think about it and he'll make a rational decision."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"What do you mean?"

"The doctor in him will choose to go and try to help them. If there's anyone left."

Rodney was in his lab, wearing what John would describe as dorky glasses and staring at a plate.

"What'cha doing?"

Rodney jumped, startled. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"There's a plan," John smirked, wondering what those glasses could be for. "What are you doing? Trying to get some more lunch?"

"I refuse to answer that question. You wouldn't understand, anyway." Rodney said.

"I see you're feeling better."

"I was a bit nauseous because of the… How did you know there was something wrong?"

"Beckett said -"

"That whiner. I go there once a month… okay, once every few days - no need to scowl, Colonel - and he complains."

"He wasn't complaining. He was… Listen McKay, I need your help."

"Really?" Rodney took off his glasses off and invited John to sit on a chair. "What about?"

"Carson."

"Oh. What did he do?"

"It's not what he did, well it is, just that… I don't know how to -" John knew he had to do something to help Carson and after his reaction in Elizabeth's office, he felt that the doctor wouldn't accept his comforting words. He just hoped that McKay would be able to help Carson.

"Oh, say it already."

"Elizabeth asked him if he wants to go on the Hoff mission."

Rodney opened his mouth, but no words came out. He knew how Carson blamed himself for what happened on Hoff and he couldn't believe that Elizabeth and John could ask such a thing. They hadn't been there for Carson when he came back and didn't see his pain. But Rodney did, and he knew too well what this could do to him.

John continued, "He didn't take it very well. Don't know where he went after that, it wouldn't have been right to following him then, and I didn't know where to look for him after that." By the way Rodney was looking at him, John could tell that his friend blamed him for Carson's distress.

"I… I think I know where to find him." Rodney got up and headed for the door.

"Wait, McKay! What are you gonna say?"

Rodney waved his hand dismissively and answered, "I'll think of that when I find him."

That's just brilliant, Sheppard. You just sent the master of diplomacy to make Carson feel better, John thought.

Rodney found Carson in the infirmary, and paused in the doorway to try and gauge the other man's mood. Carson was not normally an aggressive boss. He had a soft way of asking people to do things which created a casual atmosphere, and the staff responded well. But there were times when even Carson lost his composure. At such times, his staff seemed to remember he was the CMO and acted accordingly.

"Laura! I asked you t' check on him every fifteen minutes!" He wasn't shouting, but he wasn't very far from it

"Let's see how Lieutenant Ashmore is fairing." Carson said, taking a deep breath before following Laura to the marine's bed.

Rodney listened, a little amused. Unlike himself, Carson was usually patient enough to listen to his subordinates. His reactions today didn't differ too much from Rodney's, though.

"I have told you countless times t' check the - " Carson stopped mid-sentence and was staring at Rodney, "What do ye think ye're doin', Rodney?"

"I was just observing."

"Really?" Carson handed the chart to Laura, who was relieved that it was over. He gestured to his office door, inviting Rodney to go in: "I'll be with ye in a minute."

Rodney went into Carson's office and continued watching, while Carson looked over the marine's chart. Some time ago, he noticed that, while in the infirmary, Carson looked different. He seemed… older, as if all the worries were taking years away from him. He wondered what was it that Carson did to change into the good humoured person they all knew, outside the infirmary.

"Apart from observing, is there anythin' else you'd like to do around here?" Carson said, as he entered the room.

"You know, I rarely come to your office." Rodney said, still searching for a way to get Carson to discuss his feelings about the upcoming mission.

"That's because you usually stop on a bed and stay there for a couple o' days, at least."

"Kind of you to point that out," Rodney voice showed that he wasn't upset. He was busy scanning Carson's office for something that would help him get the other man to spill his guts.

"What can I do for ye, Rodney?" Carson asked, starting to grow impatient.

"How do you feel?" Rodney sounded almost doctor-like.

Carson couldn't hold back a chuckle. "Well, Dr. McKay, my back is a bit sore, but my physician said I'll live."

If Rodney didn't know better, he'd say Carson was just fine, but he knew how well the other man could hide his emotions

"I was always wondering what do you MDs do when you feel bad. I mean, it's not like –" Rodney stopped when he saw the way Carson was looking at him. He knew he should stop talking nonsense when there more important things to discuss, but he didn't know how he could bring up a thing like that.

"How are you really feeling, Carson?" he asked, instead.

Carson looked away, and started re-stacking some medical journals on his desk. "I'm tired. My shift ended half an hour ago and I was about to go to my quarters."

"May I join you?"

"I'm sorry?" Carson looked puzzled.

"I mean, may I walk with you in that direction?"

"Yes, just let me pick up some things and we'll go."

Rodney watched Carson grab a couple of CDs from a shelf and a laptop. He tried to see past the doctor's mask, but all he could tell was that Carson did not want to talk

Carson took one last look around the office to make sure it was okay and left the room.

"Why were you looking back?" Rodney asked.

"T' make sure everything was okay. Don't ye do the same?"

"Yeah, but we have explosives and stuff like that."

"That's not why ye do it, though." Carson smiled.

"I was wondering about the mice."

Carson chuckled. He sometimes wondered what was going on in Rodney's head. "What about them, Rodney?"

"Who takes care of them? I mean, someone's gotta feed them…"

"We have our mice and we take care o' them."

"Do you mean you feed them and change their beddings and… the rest?"

"Aye. Is there something wrong with that?"

"It's just that… did you give them names?" Rodney sounded genuinely curious. He regretted that he didn't find the time to talk to his friend about simple things like this when there were no problems.

"Aye. Amber and Copper."

"Let me guess, they're -"

"They're both white, Rodney."

"Then why those names?"

"Rodney, what's your cat's name?"

"Powder."

"Why?"

"Okay, okay, I'll leave your mice alone."

Carson felt a little of his tension melting away. It was good to have someone to talk to, to allow him to sink his worries until he would be able to deal with them properly. Even if Rodney could be obnoxious, the man was his friend.

"Well, this is my room." Carson said, stopped by the door.

"I know." Rodney stared at his feet, looking for the words he knew he should say.

"Goodbye, then!" Carson opened the door and went in.

"You… you don't have to do anything!" Rodney blurted out.

"Wha'?" Carson jerked back around, startled.

"You don't have to do anything that you don't want to do." Rodney's face was red and he was fidgeting.

Carson sighed. "You know?"

"Yes."

"I'm afraid there are things that I have t' do, Rodney. I have t' assume responsibility for what I did." He seemed resigned, as if he had made up his mind but it didn't appear to have made him feel better.

"Wanna talk about this?"

"No. Not now."

The door closed with a whoosh and Rodney was afraid he had failed his friend.

Rodney walked away, sorry that he couldn't do more. But Carson was going to be okay, he tried to cope and was doing it quite well. He tried to tell himself Carson was going to be okay, was coping well, working as he always did.

Then Rodney remembered how Carson helped him when they were working in Antarctica. He didn't know anyone there and he wasn't exactly the most social person in the world, but Carson helped him and made him understand the importance of having friends. Now, Carson was alone in his room, probably questioning himself.

"I have to go back" he muttered, and turned around. He stopped in front of the door and trying to think of a conversation starter. That's all it took, a few words to start the conversation, an explanation for his return. He was going to ask for a pair of mice. Tell Carson that he wanted them for… company.

He knocked on the door and waited for an answer. A few seconds later, the door opened and revealed Carson, who was standing a meter away from it.

"What are ye doin' here, Rodney?"

Rodney frowned. Judging by his voice, his friend wasn't surprised, he was upset. "May I come in?" He went inside, but noticed that Carson didn't move a bit.

"What can I do for ye?"

"I wanted to ask for something, but if it's not a good time…" he said defensively.

"Sorry, it's just that…" Carson's voice softened, as he gestures towards a chair, inviting his friend to sit down.

"Yes?" Rodney was happy he managed to get that far. His skills were improving.

"Well, you know." Carson waved his hands suggesting nothing was right.

"Ah, work." Rodney grinned. "Our jobs have more in common than you know."

"Apart from mine not being really science."

Rodney's smile faded. He was so used to bantering, he sometimes forgot when to stop. He never meant to hurt people around. "Carson, you know I didn't mean that."

"Aye, it's just that that's how I feel now. Nothing's working!"

"May I help?" Rodney's voice was so sincere, that Carson began wondering if something was himwrong with him.

"Are ye alright?"

"Yes. Of course I'm alright, I just want to help you."

Carson realized then why had Rodney returned. "There's little ye can do. There's little I can do, for that matter."

"What have you been working on, Carson?" Rodney asked, as he spotted Carson's laptop.

"The Hoffan drug." Carson retrieved the laptop from his desk. "You see, when we got the first results, I was certain we would be able to figure it out. But after the vote and everything else, I couldn't work on it anymore."

"Why are you doing it now?"

"Because I hope they didn't settle with that version and accept the death of their people like that. There's no point in me going there if I can't help them, if I can't at least explain why it went so terribly wrong."

Rodney wanted to say that it wasn't his fault, that the tragedy was caused by the stubbornness and stupidity of those people, but he knew Carson wouldn't listen.

In a low voice, Carson started explaining the things that worked and the things that didn't work about the drug. They both knew that Rodney didn't understand that much, but they also knew that Carson needed to do this. He needed to have someone who would just listen.

Three days later, John, Teyla, Rodney and Ronon were in the gate room, prepared to go off-world.

"Are you sure he's coming?" Ronon couldn't hide his impatience.

"For the hundredth time, he's coming! Just give him a few more minutes." Rodney requested harshly.

"We will wait." Teyla stated. She knew Ronon wasn't a patient man, but he was asking the most uncomfortable questions about the first mission to Hoff. She hoped he wouldn't ask those questions in front of Carson.

"So why does he feel guilty? It's them who chose to do it." The Satedan persisted stubbornly.

Before she answered him, Rodney moved in front of him and said, "Because he's too good for his own sake. Now stop asking these questions and keep your mouth shut. The last thing we need is for him to be upset by such comments."

Rodney knew he was too harsh with Ronon, but he wanted the others to understand they weren't helping. He hoped they would be able to help Carson on Hoff, or at least not to disturb more.

"Don't worry, Rodney, we'll shut up." John's tone showed that he understood Rodney's concerns.

They stood there in silence until, a few minutes later, they heard Carson's voice.

"… if he doesn't come round, call Schwartz. He'll know what to do." A small nurse was following him, hurrying to keep up. Every few steps, Carson stopped to wait for her and dictate further instructions. When he reached the team he apologized, "I had to monitor a patient. He's stable now; hopefully, he'll regain consciousness soon. Sorry to keep you waiting."

"It's okay, Doc." John said. "Dial the gate, sergeant!"

A few moments later they were on Hoff, staring at the city stretched before them.