Title: Of Dreams and Memories

Summary: What happens when dreams become reality?

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.

Author's Note: No spoilers. Fic written for Carson Challenge of the week over on Gateworld.

Crash. Thwack. "Ah!" Carson yelped as he shook his injured hand while staring at his opponent. Specialist Ronon Dex circled him with a smile that most people thought was menacing but Carson knew the truth. He looked deeper than what was on the surface and while the initial look was feral, underneath was the smile of a friend only partially enjoying the exercise mixed with a little bit of concern for good measure.

"Why am I here again?" Carson grumbled as he re-gripped the bantos stick.

"Sheppard says you and McKay need some defense training," Ronon responded as he continued to circle the Scot, twirling the stick in his right hand as though it were a baton.

"Aye, that's right," the physician conceded with a tired sigh. He straightened again, putting his arms up in a defensive position. Deep blue eyes tracked the Satedan with wariness and nervousness shining brightly in them.

When Ronon was in front of him, he swung out with his right arm attempting to strike the doctor on his side. Carson stepped out of the way knowing he wouldn't be able to block the attack in time and returned with a strike of his own. The blow was easily blocked and returned with full force, striking him hard on the thigh. Carson's sure footing faltered under the pain the attack caused and he stopped to bend over, catch his breath and wait for the stinging to subside before he continued.

Determined not to fail, Carson quickly straightened even though the pain from the bruise that no doubt covered half of his thigh hadn't abated one bit. He ground his teeth together to keep from showing that he was hurting though he knew very well the slight limp was doing that for him. Bushy, brown eyebrows rose in a form of a challenge to him and Carson felt his hackles rising as he accepted the challenge with a head nod.

The sound of bantos sticks hitting against flesh, bone and each other sounded through the gym that currently served as a training room but Carson didn't hear any of it. He allowed his instincts to take over, ignoring the blows that landed upon his body as he let his mind wander to the reason he chose today for his training session.

Mail call had come and gone but Carson hadn't had time to attend. He had been busy sorting through the latest medical emergency that had been announced in one of the science labs. It made him unnaturally annoyed to be called at that exact point in time but his doctor's training wouldn't let him be too mad about it – after all, it was his job.

A few hours later, everyone was bandaged, fixed and sent to their quarters and Carson was left to the comfortable silence of the infirmary once again. He'd collapsed into the chair in his office, rubbing at the headache that had now taken up permanent residence in his temples. A knock at his door drew his attention from his pain and he looked up to find Colonel Sheppard holding two letters, both addressed to him.

He grabbed both letters quickly, offering a brief mumble of thanks before he tore into the first, reading what was going on in his mother's daily life with such fervor you'd think his life depended on the words. The second had come from his brother Cormac. The eldest brother of them all very rarely wrote Carson so it was with a racing heart that he opened and read the letter. His hand clenched almost painfully around the fragile pieces of paper as he read and re-read the words written on it. He switched his focus from one letter to the next, trying to find evidence in the first that the second hinted at. His eyes quickly found the proof he was looking for and he tossed both papers onto his desk in disgust. It was then that he decided that now was the time for his defense training.

Another blow landed on his side but he barely felt it as his blood began to boil with frustration and anger. Cancer. His mum had cancer and there was nothing he could do to help her. Thwack. That's bloody unfair! He was surrounded by all this magnificent ancient technology – hell he lived in a city that could fly! – and he couldn't even return home to treat his own mum. Thwack-crash-thwack! What's worse is she didn't even tell him! He had to hear about it from Cormac instead – the scruffy little git. Crash-thwack-thwack-crash-thwackthwackthwack! He guessed he should be grateful to his brother for telling him but right now all Carson felt was anger. Oh sure, pain and devastation were somewhere in there as well but all that flowed through his veins was frustrated fury.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Carson registered a feral growl as the attacks began to get faster and harder but he didn't care. All he knew was that his angel mum was slowly dying as her body began to succumb to the cancerous tumors that were eating away at her more and more with each day and there was nothing he could do but wait to hear when it was ended.

Pain burned through his arms as his own movements got quicker and quicker. His arms began to feel almost leaden but he couldn't convince them to stop; this was the perfect exercise to expel the fury that burned through him. Almost absently, he saw a few blows land on Ronon's person but he couldn't feel satisfaction for it. He couldn't feel anything but pain and anger. His breathing became ragged the more he thought and the more he fought until finally the wheezing that exited his mouth the more he exerted himself was the only sound that mixed with the sticks as they clanged together.

He landed one last blow on Ronon's leg, the move costing him more than he could understand as the Satedan's stick landed harshly across his left arm, causing enough pain and weakness for him to drop the wooden object just before another strike landed on the same spot on his leg as before, easily collapsing him to the ground. Agonizing pain surged through his body but Carson found himself unable to distinguish between the pain of his injuries and the pain in his soul. Water trickled out of his eyes to the mat beneath him as his chest tightened horridly.

"Doc?" Ronon's concerned voice called to him as the man's face came into view.

Carson found enough breath to weakly respond with an, "Aye," before all oxygen was stolen from his lungs. His eyes grew wide in panic as his heart began to race but no matter what his reaction he couldn't draw in enough air. The edges of his vision began to grow dark until there was nothing but blackness and reality slipped from his tightly grasping fingers completely.

When Carson resurfaced to reality the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer on a stiff, smelly floor mat but a hard, thin bed with overly-starched sheets and barely there blankets lying on top of him. The smell of sterilization tickled his nose and he sneezed in an attempt to rid himself of it. Burning, throbbing pain seared through his side as the breath exploded from his nose and mouth and he gave a wheezing gasp while he wrapped his right arm around his side to stabilize it.

"You might want to be careful how deeply you breathe for the next few weeks," Doctor Grace Porter announced as she walked up to his bed to review his chart and mark down his immediate vitals. "Those ribs are going to be pretty tender for a long while." She put the chart down and checked the vitals she couldn't do before. "Now. How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy thanks," Carson groused, not exactly in the mood to play nice.

One pencil-thin eyebrow shot up in surprise but the woman herself was smart enough to remain quiet. "Doctor McKay insisted that I perform every form of psychological and neurological test possible on you. He said something about you losing your mind and attacking Specialist Dex like a madman."

Her words were those of someone stating facts but her tone was something else altogether. It was inquisitive, concerned and amused all in one. The curiosity won however and he heard that above all as she ended her statement sounding closer to a question. When he averted his gaze, Grace sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. During her short time on Atlantis he'd discovered that she was the type of person to speak what she thought and felt, no matter what the consequences. Sometimes her bedside manner bordered on inappropriate but since he had never received any form of complaint – actually most requested her because of it – Carson hadn't felt the need to correct her.

"Carson," she began softly with no little amount of empathy in her voice. "I know you're frustrated and angry and hurt but getting yourself beaten until you can no longer walk will not help your mother any. She needs to know that you're there for her even though you're beyond hundreds of miles away." She paused for a moment, seeming to consider her next string of words then quickly continued. "Why haven't you requested to travel back to Earth with the Daedalus to go see her?"

Now Carson understood why she was hesitant. It was the kind of question that while kindly meant wasn't bound to go over well with him and given that he was her boss, bad things could happen. Oh sure, he knew that no one thought he'd actually do anything directly mean to another person but they all knew he could if he wanted to and that was enough for most of his staff to try to stay on his good side.

As it was his eyes immediately snapped up to focus on her honey brown ones. The snippish retort that lay just on the tip of his tongue died when he saw nothing but concern and encouragement in her face. He could see that she was truly worried for him and sincere in her suggestion that he go visit his mum. It made him almost too ashamed to admit, out loud, why he hadn't requested to leave. His second in command, however, refused to give in and held his gaze til he could no longer meet it.

"I'm sorry. What was that?" she coaxed when he mumbled his answer. She leaned in closer, careful to avoid his injuries as she turned her body in an effort to hear him better.

"I didnae want ta get there and be too late."

The empathy in her eyes turned to pure pity and he cringed at seeing it. He didn't want nor deserve pity. Of all the people on Atlantis he would have expected Grace to react accordingly to the situation itself. Anger was the correct response, not sympathy. When she spoke again, he understood the reason for her glance.

"Well, I think you got your wish."

Carson woke with a start, shooting off the top of his desk with a groan when the muscles in his back and neck cried out against the harsh treatment. Instantly his left hand reached back to massage the tense muscles but it stilled when pain shot through his side and the wrist that had only healed from the damage it incurred during the fight. His head throbbed from the effects of the dream and the awkward position his neck had been in.

The vivid details of the memory turned dream haunted him. He'd been sitting at his desk staring blankly at his research, allowing his mind to wander when he first thought of his mum and the training session. That had all been three weeks ago and while his physical injuries had healed, the emotional ones that brought on the physical still lurked beneath barely disguised smiles and strained attitudes.

Grace's last words to him in the dream haunted him more so than the guilt that his mother was dying and he wasn't able to do anything about it. He knew that her pitying glance before she spoke was partially meant as an apology for hurting him with her statement but the words still stung, piercing his heart with a deeper hurt than that of an arrow. At first he skulked about it but he soon realized that she was right. Because of his insecurities, he'd allowed his only chance at visiting his mum, possibly being there for her as she passed, to expire. While the Daedalus had hyperspace technology, it was still a long trip back to Earth. Even if he'd left as soon as he was released from the infirmary, he likely wouldn't have made it in time.

A knock at the door of his office drew him from his thoughts. He looked over with bleary, tear filled blue eyes and found a rather uncomfortable looking Colonel Sheppard standing in the doorway.

"This came for you. I thought you'd want it right away," the pilot explained, holding out a single letter for the physician to take.

Carson's breath hitched when he recognized Cormac's handwriting on the envelope rather than his mother's. No! his mind screamed instantly as his shaking hand reached out to grab the letter. Logically he knew that it was bound to happen soon but the little boy in him that still needed his mother railed against it. Something tickled his cheeks and he reached his free hand up to scratch the itch, unsurprised to find tears rolling down them. Knowing John was there for silent support he ignored the pilot and opened the letter.

A heavy hand, then another, then a calloused one, and then two lighter hands descended and rested comfortably on his shoulders, each one giving a squeeze of miniscule comfort.

"I am so sorry Carson," Elizabeth said, speaking for Colonel Sheppard, Rodney, Ronon, Teyla and herself all in one. Surrounded by each member of his extended family, he felt the dam holding his tears at bay break.

In the comforting arms of his friends, Carson Beckett, M.D. grieved.

~fin~