This is a rather old text that I found on my old hard drive. Just a one shot about Rodney trying to cope with Carson's death. It broke my heart to see him so sad and desperate.

Be so kind and let me know what you think. :)

And thanks a bunch for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. The story itself is mine. I do not make money with it, unfortunately.

A farewell

You should not have called me back. You should have let me go.

Rodney was angrier than ever before in his life. And more desperate. He had been so close. Only inches away. The soothing light. The smile. The sparkle within those piercing blue eyes. It had felt so right.

And yet here he was. The infirmary.

He didn't opened his eyes. He wasn't sure he wanted to. It was the smell and the feeling of the place that gave him awareness of where he was. No confirmation by sight needed.

He was so tired of all this. The more stubborn half of him refused to take in what the remainder part of his personality had understood the very moment he had drifted back into consciousness. He had lost him.

Again.

He felt his mind letting go again and didn't even try to work against it. Maybe, he thought, maybe there was a way back. If only…

Slowly the fog in his head lifted. His vision cleared and he found himself at the same spot that he'd first set foot on hours ago. Or was it days? He didn't know and he didn't care.

He was back.

This had to be his second chance. He would not let go this time.

Somewhere at the back of his mind he was aware that he was dreaming. Or maybe hallucinating. Probably it was only a vision triggered by the pain killers Keller had given him for sure.

He got drugged so easily. He could hear Sheppard make jokes about his miserable state when on drugs but pushed away the thought and looked around.

It really did look the same as the place where it had happened. Large fields of nothingness. A dessert. Sand in all shades of brown, the waving pattern of the ground only broken by greyish rocks that looked as if giants had thrown them around haphazardly.

He recognized the rock.

He remembered thinking about the odd shape it had when he first saw it. It had a vaguely familiar look, but he hadn't been able to make out what it reminded him of. Then suddenly he had heard Sheppard yell something, his brain had identified the evil sound of gun fire and then his world had been tumbling down.

His shoulder had been jerked back and, subjected to gravitation, the rest of his body had followed suit. He had crashed into the rock and slid down to the ground. While his mind had processed the information immediately, it had taken him a moment to realise that he had been shot.

Several things had dawned at him that very moment. First of all, that he was not going to make it. He had been able to feel that this was bad. Very bad. In the sense of life threatening. Second, and that nearly had made him laugh out loud for it was so ridiculous, the word bagpipe had jumped at him. It had jumped at him as ferociously as the sudden pain. The cold metal of the bullet had pierced his skin and sunken deep into his flesh. The world had seemed to be on super slow motion and he had felt like he could identify every single cell destroyed by the bullet. His heart had been racing, every beat producing only one thought, speeding up every second, amounting to a maddening echo in his head:

bagpipe bagpipe bagpipe …

The pain shot through his body in waves and he could feel the spasms again. Puzzled, for he knew he was only reliving the ambush in his mind, he looked down at his chest but could make out no injury. For a moment, the scientist in him got curious about how it was possible to feel a pain so vividly that was clearly only a memory. But the question faded away and a second later he wasn't even aware of his own curiosity anymore. He wasn't a scientist. Not here. Not now. Never again, possibly.

He was a loner. Someone left behind. He had made himself redundant the very moment he took the wrong decision, but probably, finally, he could make up for it.

He would find a way to follow. He had too.

Friends never let go.

He let his gaze wander through the vast desert. He stretched his mind to feel the place. He adapted to this ability naturally. Still vaguely aware of the fact that all this might only be an illusion, he nevertheless willed himself on. The dessert seemed to have neither beginning nor end. Nonetheless, the wide open space had a calming effect on him and he forced himself back into his memory.

It hadn't taken his mind long to get from the word bagpipe to the word Carson. Or rather the pool of bittersweet memories labled Carson in his head. He seemed to have millions of them and it never ceased to amaze him how multifaceted they were.

A movement had distracted his thoughts and despite the fact that something had told him to keep his gaze focused, he had blinked. It had been only a fraction of a second, but it had been enough.

There he had been. Standing only some steps away from him, a gentle expression on his face, his blue eyes fixed on him, the man he had missed so much had silently smiled at him.

"Carson…"

His own voice had startled him for it had made him realised that all sounds around him had faded away. No gunfire, no screaming Sheppard, no grunting Ronon. Just silence. Solitude maybe if it hadn't been for Carson, who still stood there like a memorial to himself.

The very moment his memory allowed him to see his friend again, Rodney's vision grew hazy. He could feel his mind drift and sort of shift sideways, losing sight of Carson.

No, no no no he thought. He wouldn't go back again. He had to make it work this time.

He squeezed his eyes shut, slowly counting to ten and drowning out every other possible thought, noise or smell. Then, ever so slowly, he opened his eyes again and looked up.

He looked out into the deserted wasteland once more. Only, this time it was real again. He had made it. He had forced himself back.

Rodney sighed in relief and then shifted his head a little.

There he was.

His nemesis. His friend.

He stood with his back to him, looking out into the distance. Then he turned, looking at Rodney with an expression on his face that spoke of surprise and sadness.

Rodney cleared his throat, an effort that send unexpected spasms of pain through his body and tried again.

"Carson…?"

Nearly as squeaky as the first time, but at least closer to resembling a question this time.

Carson inclined his head a little, just enough for Rodney to know that he had been heard. That he actually had been given a chance to communicate with his friend again.

Rodney blinked the tears away, busily assuring himself that they were no more than a natural reaction to the pain he was experiencing. They had certainly and absolutely nothing to do with the enormous rush of relief he felt since realising that this wasn't his memory anymore, but a second chance to make things right.

Looking up, he saw a knowing smile in Carson's eyes and knew that his friend had as good as read his mind and correctly so. He grinned apologetically and murmured:

"Worth a try, wasn't it..."

He wanted to say so much more, but the fact that Carson merely stood there made him suspicious. He was hampered by his injury so he couldn't get any closer to the Scott.

Or could he? He stretched himself to the limit and tried to move, but the bullet hole in his chest taught him not to. Spasm wasn't the right word to describe the pain he felt. It was more like an eruption. Crying out loud he let himself fall back, trying to shrink away from the all-encompassing pain. When he came to a rest, his position felt a lot less comfortable than before. Anxiously, he looked back to Carson.

The Scott was still there, but Rodney could read from his face, that he didn't approve of his doings.

He knew the face so well.

He could hear Carson's voice in his head:

"Rodney lad, what was it this time? How come you always manage to get yourself injured in the most ridiculous ways?"

He nearly expected to hear the same sentence again, but Carson still stood motionless and remained silent.

"For heavens sake, say something!"

He hadn't meant to burst out like that, but the suspense was just too much. He couldn't take facing Carson and not talking to him. Not knowing what was going to happen. The situation overwhelmed his scientific mind. His usual method of working out things failed him because he had no data. He had a vague idea about the fact that he was neither dead nor alive. If he understood things correctly, this was limbo again. Apart from that, the realisation that limbo unfortunately didn't include being rid of any pain your worldly body might be experiencing and the fact that he could see Carson, data were rather on the sparse side.

I don't have to talk to you, lad. You know what I think. Follow me. What a ridiculous idea. It's not your turn yet.

Carson's voice in his head startled him, but then he thought, why not. Anything was better than not communicating at all.

"I don't care about turns. Who says I can't decide what's right or wrong? I'm a scientist, I should know much better than the of people... entities... things... thingies... oh, whatever it is that makes the decisions around here."

Breathing hard, Rodney realised that he didn't improve his situation if he kept on bursting out like that. The pain in his chest grew constantly, and as much as he wanted to stay here, as much as he longed to be reunited with his best friend, dying still turned out to be a nasty business.

We decide who is about to join us, Rodney. The dead. It is us who make you come or go, who throw people a lifeline or pull them in. Once you are here, you gain a total and different understanding of things. You can't understand this by processing data. You need to feel it. Like you feel loss. Or happiness. Sadness. Triumph. This is beyond and above facts, numbers and words. One day you'll understand. But you are not ready yet.

Rodney grunted. Not ready. What was Carson talking about? The thing that he didn't understand – apart from women, he admitted – had yet to be invented or discovered.

You will have to believe me when I tell you, that you are indeed not ready yet. Which has nothing to do with your mental capacities. You are still needed where you are.

To hell with being needed, Rodney thought.

You will have to let me go now, lad. When it is time, I will be waiting for you.

"Waiting? Why would you want to wait if I as well could just come with you right now... or stay... or whatever it is, however this whole dying thing works? I'm here, am I not?"

Carson gave him a sad little smile, and for the first time, Rodney realised that it wasn't only him who was struggling. Only now did he understand the look of sadness on his friend's face.

I wish it was that easy my friend. But you have to understand something. What you experience right now is a happening of the rarest kind. When you come here, normally you literally leave each and everyone else behind. Your ties with life are cut. You cannot bring people you miss into limbo to rid yourself of your longings. You cannot meet them again until they are dead as well. That you and I are here at the same time, while your physical body is still alive, is close to a miracle.

Usually, when you get into limbo, you are alone. There's no one here but you. Before you can be reunited with your ancestors and all the people you lost, you need to find a way to let go. It may be conscious, it may be unconscious, but before they… before we can and will call you, you'll need to have shown that you are ready to leave everything else behind. Only then will we all be here to receive you amongst us.

I don't know what this moment was for me, no one really does. However, something must have persuaded my ancestors, that it was time to join them, and while I struggled in the beginning, I'm now glad that I am among them. I've found peace.

You, however, are still needed by our friends and you need them as well. You belong with them for now.

"Are you trying to tell me that death is only a call into a different form of being? A biological upgrade? Because really, that's all very comforting but utterly stupid. We KNOW what happens when someone dies. Remember decaying, stinking bodies? So this is a very pretty tale, but you of all people, you are a DOCTOR!"

Carson shook his head and smiled. The look on his face spoke of a superior knowledge, but not in a condescending way. He didn't look quite like himself anymore, Rodney realised. He looked… wiser.

We cannot comprehend everything by means of scientific categories, Rodney. And we, of all people. should be aware of that, shouldn't we? Aware of the fact that there is so much more to know and to experience out there than we could ever imagine. We both know that we are far more than our biological bodies. You do not miss my physical apearance, you miss the person who was your friend. And while you are here, talking to me, I am certain that our friends are regularly checking in at you in the infirmary. While what they look at is your body, what they see is you. Your whole being, all the things that make you their friend, whom they value and do not want to lose."

We didn't want to lose you either, Rodney thought stubbornly.

Rodney, with the knowledge that you WILL see me again, that you are still my friend, that our friendship is as alive to me as it is to you, do you really want to leave? Do you really want to let go of all that is your life, of all your other friends and opportunities so prematurely?

Rodney thought about that for a while.

"Will I know? Will I still have the knowledge that I have now, once I am back among the living? And how do I know this is not a dream? A hallucination, a wild phantasy, triggered by the worst of drugs that Keller could find in your medical locker?"

Her locker.

Rodney withstood the urge to say "Yours". He felt drained. All his energy, his will power, but most of all, every certainty he had ever had about life and death, had vanished. What was he supposed to make of all this? He was so tired.

He let his gaze wander again and to his surprise realised, that they no longer where in the desert. There was no distinct space anymore. They were surrounded by everything and nothing. While at one moment, he felt like he could glimpse a familiar thing, face or place, at the next, all the images and the memories they triggered blurred into each other, developing into something far from any distinct shape or comprehensible thought.

And suddenly he understood. He understood in a way that was all-encompassing and transcendent. This was it. The place where life began and ended. He was, indeed, at the very beginning of a circle. And at its end. A place that you couldn't pin point, a place that defied definition. A place that was so indistinct that it could be everywhere. Or nowhere. Or both at the same time.

His own voice, but more so the clarity of the decision within him startled him.

"Alright. I'll go."

He didn't look up. He just suddenly understood that he couldn't stay. He wasn't ready for this. He had so many more questions to ask of life itself, before he was able to face the place where it sprang from and ended at. If that meant leaving Carson behind again, he would have to do so. Even if it was the hardest thing he'd ever done.

He looked up to face his friend for a last time, but Carson was gone. Just as he had appeared out of nowhere, the circle had taken him back in and swallowed him.

Rodney felt himself sink into a deep unconsciousness. He welcomed it, embraced it with all his might. On the edge of total darkness, he heard Carson's voice again, calm and full of warmth:

It wasn't your fault. It was my time to go.

Farewell my friend.

We shall meet again.

For a moment.

For ever.