When he entered the infirmary, Rodney found the nurses gathered in an area to the left, whispering among themselves. Looking in the direction they were looking, he saw Carson, one of his doctors and the head nurse talking just as quietly.

"You called for me?" he asked when he reached the centre of the infirmary. Apparently, Elizabeth and John were discussing something, so he was the only one of the Chief Officers available.

Carson nodded and gestured for him to come closer. He waited a moment, looking at the nurses. Carson and the other two didn't seem to notice the strange way the others were observing them, so he asked, "Why are they looking at us like that?"

Carson shook his head as the other doctor answered, "They must have heard something. We'll move to Carson's office and leave them to their gossip."

A few moments later, they were in Carson's office. The only one who was truly comfortable was the other doctor, who sat down on a chair and started arranging the items on Carson's desk. The Scot leaned heavily against one of the two filing cabinets in his office, staring at the floor. The head nurse was a few steps away from the door, stealing glances outside. Rodney was in the middle of the office, not sure how long this meeting would take and thus how comfortable he should make himself.

"Maybe we should close the door and sit down, so we can discuss the matter…" the other doctor suggested, waiting for some sort of response from Carson.

After waiting for a few moments, Rodney mentally closed the door and took one of the empty chairs, presenting it to Carson. "Sit." The Scot complied, not taking his eyes away from the floor.

"Doctor…"

"Andrews."

"Doctor Andrews, can you explain to me why Carson's sitting there like a mannequin?" Rodney asked, growing impatient.

"I'm older," Carson said, but his voice was so low, Rodney had to look at the others to see if they heard it too. The nurse bowed her head, focusing on the pattern on the floor, and Andrews sighed.

"Older than…"

"Older than I was yesterday." Carson seemed strained, as if this admission had taken half of his energy.

"Why yes, I'd think so. We're all older than we were yesterday by exactly… umm… a day," Rodney replied ironically.

"No, Rodney, I'm older by more than a day. I'm forty. Yesterday I was thirty-seven." For the first time, Carson looked at him and he lost all interest in laughing.

"You mean it?"

Carson nodded. The nurse looked away from them and Andrews frowned.

"How? How did you get… this way and how did you notice it?"

"Why don't you sit down, doctor?" Andrews asked, looking pointedly at one of the chairs.

"Okay…" Rodney said, slowly sitting down. "Now can you explain this?"

"I had the flu," Carson started, returning his gaze to the floor. "Actually, it was a pulmonary infection. When we realized it was something serious, we did the usual tests. And since we had a newly discovered scanner, we used it. For the past week, we've been following several parameters. This morning… "

"The scanner showed abnormal cell aging, by roughly three years," the head nurse continued.

"More or less than three years?" Rodney asked, not able to fully comprehend what he was being told.

"More, but that's not important," Andrews answered, visibly annoyed by Rodney's question.

"Oh, what is, then?"

"I'm forty." Carson looked straight into his eyes. "Tomorrow, I'll be forty-five."

Rodney nodded, "How did it happen? Was it related to the… infection?" Rodney asked, trying to divert the discussion to a slightly more useful direction.

"No," Andrews answered, getting up. He retrieved a file from Carson's desk and handed it to Rodney. "We analyzed the virus. It couldn't have done such a thing. After analyzing the samples we had from Carson, we found traces of another substance, something we've been studying for a while now. The Ancients tried to create something that would reverse the aging process caused by the Wraith's feeding process. They created a virus – the one we've been studying. Apparently, they managed to duplicate the aging process, but with a slower effect."

"But you have a way to treat this, right? You know how to undo it, don't you?" Rodney asked, his voice shakier than he intended.

Carson shook his head. "We might be able to stop it, but reversing it is… impossible."

"Nothing's impossible. You can't say that…" Rodney knew that Carson didn't give up. Carson couldn't give up.

"We're working on it, but it's slow. If we had a month, a year, maybe I'd be more optimistic," Carson said impersonally. "I won't live past the eighth day," he said, finally looking up. "I'm not healthy enough to hope I'll live to be ninety."

"We're doing everything we can. In less than an hour, we'll have more information on how the virus developed and get a better idea on how to counter it," Andrews said. "Maybe you should rest a bit, Carson."

The Scot nodded, but didn't move.

"We'll leave now," Andrews said as he guided the head nurse outside. He nodded at Rodney and closed the door behind them.

Moving his chair closer to Carson, Rodney sat down and placed a hand on his friend's right shoulder. "I know it's a dumb question, but are you okay?"

"Not sure." For a few minutes Carson was quiet. He sighed deeply, slouching his shoulders. "If I had known that I'd die in five hours, it would probably be easier to get used to the thought. But this way… I don't have enough time to save myself, but I have enough time to know I'm going to die."

"There must be something we can do, there must be a solution," Rodney said, not ready to give up.

"Dr. Andrews said we'll have the results soon. And do you know what those results will say? That the virus was there, dormant, waiting for a few days to pass so when it finally set in, the source couldn't be traced." Carson's explanation was almost academic: impersonal, said in an even tone.

"Yes, but you know exactly where it came from."

"We know what container it came from, aye. But how it got inside my body…"

"Have you cut yourself, or done something while handling it that… you know… maybe you made a mistake and it got in your bloodstream," Rodney asked, hoping that talking about this would help Carson cope with it – to be honest, he needed help to cope with this just as much.

"I wasn't on the team that handled the substance," Carson explained. "I just analyzed some lab results, told them which way to continue the research… it wasn't my project."

"Is it airborne?" Rodney asked, panic obvious in his voice.

"No. It must have gotten into my body, into my bloodstream."

"Do you know when this could have happened? You mentioned the scans… would you have known about it, if it was dormant?"

Carson frowned, considering Rodney's words. "More or less. I suppose this happened after the first scan was taken."

"Can't you check it or -" Rodney stopped as he saw the concentration on his friend's face. "What?"

"The only way I could have got it – the only way it could have got into my body was through an injection," he said, still lost in his thoughts.

"So you're saying someone injected you without your knowledge?" Rodney asked, appalled.

"The infection… I was given shots… one every day for a week," Carson provided, tapping on his laptop's keyboard.

"So someone gave you that instead of the medicine you were supposed to take?"

"Maybe, but I loaded them myself, from new, sealed vials. There's no way -"

"Let's look at it from another perspective. Can you see who had access to the place where you held the virus?" Rodney asked, getting up. "I can get someone on my team to look at the video footage if you don't."

"We should have a log." Carson opened his laptop and studied the screen intently. "The only one who wasn't supposed to go there is Dr. Perkins. He opened it on… Tuesday… the fifth."

"And that was… ten days ago," Rodney supplied.

Blood drained from Carson's face as he read the information onscreen. "He must have changed the syringes."

Reaching for his comm., Rodney contacted Sheppard, "Get Dr. Perkins and take him… somewhere under guard."

"Why?" Sheppard asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Malpractice," Rodney answered, looking at Carson. The Scot nodded, seeming to be far away from the current discussion. "It's complicated, Sheppard, just get him there."

"Okay, I'll take him to the brig. See you there."

"Carson, Sheppard will have Perkins in custody in a few minutes. I think we should ask him a few things."

Carson nodded again. "Go ahead. I'll go see if Dr. Andrews needs help."

Rodney left Carson alone, hurrying to the lower level of Atlantis, where the holding cells were located. Maybe this man had some answers. Maybe he knew how to undo the damage that was already done. Rodney knew it was unlikely, that someone who did something so elaborate couldn't just change their minds, but still…