In his dreams he returned to the planet. The sun shone weakly in the sky, giving off a glowing light but not touching the iciness that clung to the trees. He could see the cold mist that gathered over the hills before rolling into the valley below. He could feel the chilled, damp air as he inhaled. It felt as if little icicles were stabbing him from his throat to his lungs with every breath he took.
He tucked his fingers under his jacket, trying to prevent them from becoming clumsy with the cold. He had a job to do. But it was more than just a job, it was a vocation. He needed to heal people, or at least to try to alleviate their suffering. No matter what it cost him to do it. So what was a little bit of frostbite when the welfare of others was at stake?
Carson chuckled to himself. That made him seem very noble. But the Scot knew he was no better or worse than the next man. He just had this compulsion to heal.
The scene shifted with the speed reserved for dreams or nightmares. He was in a cold dark place, dripping with damp. There was no light, only an all pervading darkness. He reached out to explore his surroundings, but his hands had turned into strange star-like tentacles. They were sensitive to the point of being painful. He found hard, sharp-edge rocks. The ground was uneven and strewn with rocks too. He took a few tentative steps forward. Then found himself falling, falling, falling . . . .
The next moment, he was lying on a bed, the sights and sounds and smells of suffering all around him. He glanced to his left and a woman was vomiting violently. To his right, a man was shivering while at the same time sweat was pouring off his body. All around him, people were working, trying to help the patients. None of them seemed familiar to him.
Someone approached him, a needle in their hand. Panic took hold of his body. He didn't know this person. He didn't trust this person. He didn't know what was in the syringe. He struggled, he kicked, he threw off the bed clothes. But the other person was stronger than him, and before Carson could escape he felt the sharp pain of a needle being stabbed into his arm, before his dream faded into oblivion.
oOoOoOo
"How is he?" Elizabeth asked Jenny as she entered the Infirmary.
"He's still unconscious, but I think he's been dreaming."
"Why is that?"
"Well, let's see," Jenny counted out the examples on her fingers. "Firstly, he started shivering as if he was cold, and tucked his hands under his blanket. Then he started chuckling."
Elizabeth smiled.
"He started reaching out, with both his hands and his feet, then it was if he was panicking. He started looking round, and thrashing around. We gave him a sedative, but that took all Fergus' strength to do that."
Jenny pointed to one of the new doctor's who was looked more like a bouncer than a doctor.
Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up as she looked at the large doctor. He could even give Ronon a run for his money.
"He's stronger than he looks," the big medic remarked with a grin.
"Ah, Elizabeth, there you are!" Rodney's voice carried across the length of the Infirmary, taking no account of the patients trying to rest there.
Trailing behind the scientist were Drs Cole and Zelenka.
"How can I help you, Rodney?"
"It's us that can help you, or more accurately, help Carson. Well, at least we think we can help Carson. We can at least help get some sort of treatment started."
"I found similarities between Carson's brain activity and those of someone infected by a nanite virus." It was Zelenka who made the claim, obviously pleased he had beaten his colleague to the discovery.
Rodney looked annoyed and irritated.
"You mean like I was?" Elizabeth asked, a worried frown on her face as she turned to look at Carson. She shuddered, remembering the nightmare of the time where she thought she was on Earth, going mad.
"Not exactly," Rodney replied. "There are similarities, but there are subtle differences. I believe whatever is causing this in Carson is not manmade or artificial, but organic."
Radek opened his mouth to continue what was obviously an on-going argument.
"So does this help us to treat Carson?" Elizabeth's question forestalled the argument, at least for the time being.
"Not exactly." Dr Cole joined in the discussion for the first time. "We need to continue to monitor Carson's brain activity. He is still mostly unconscious, but it is not such a deep level of unconsciousness. And he is having more moments of lucidity. We need to see if there is any sort of pattern to this, and at the same time, we're trying to determine what the progression of the virus is."
"Keep working on it." With those words, Elizabeth left the scientists to their argument and the doctor to her investigations.
It was times like this, she felt useless. She knew that her role was important to Atlantis. She'd had to resolve numerous crises over her time there. But in situations like this, she wished that her expertise was of a more practical nature. She wished she could "do" something to help Carson. But she had to leave the "doing" to others and trust in the fact that she'd chosen the best people for the job in the first place. With a sigh, she headed for her office.
oOoOoOo
"Jenny." His voice was weak, little more than a whisper.
"Carson." Her voice was strong, reassuring.
"What is happening to me?"
"We don't know yet, but there are a lot of people trying to find out. Dr McKay, Dr Zelenka, Dr Cole."
Carson gave a gentle chuckle. "Have Rodney and Radek fallen out yet?"
"Do you mean in the last half hour?"
Carson chuckled again, but the chuckle turned into a cough. Jenny eased him up and gave him a sip of water.
"I keep having these dreams. I'm frightened in them. And I don't know why I'm afraid. Sometimes I me, sometimes I'm someone else, seeing things through another eyes – a lot of others' eyes. Like I'm watching a film, but it doesn't make sense . . . " His voice trailed off as he slipped back into his troubled sleep again.
oOoOoOo
Elizabeth was trawling her way through the numerous reports that seemed to find their way onto her desk. She liked to be aware of everything that was going on in the city, but sometimes it could be tedious. A report on the intricacies of underwater currents in the far side of the planet was not the most riveting of reads.
"Elizabeth!"
She looked up to see John Sheppard standing in the doorway. Just behind him were Teyla and Ronon. She could tell by the sombre expressions on each of their faces that the report they were about to give her would not lift her spirits.
"We contacted the planet again." She knew without John actually saying so that they meant the planet where Carson had taken ill. At the moment, it was the only planet any of them were thinking about.
"We didn't go down there, or anything," he added hastily, when she raised her eyebrows at him. "We spoke to them over the radio link."
"They have had similar cases to Carson's." Teyla came slightly further into the room as she spoke.
"Have they developed a treatment?" Elizabeth tried to keep the hope out of her voice.
"Unfortunately, no." John's words dashed her faint hope. "They've had a number of cases over the years. They seem to be isolated cases, never more than one person affected at a time. They've not been able to find the cause or source of the illness. Any treatments they've tried seem to have failed. Nothing seems to make any difference to the patient."
"And the prognosis?"
"Not good. Some survive, but some don't. They don't know why. They treat them all the same."
"They do not have the technology or the knowledge that we have on Atlantis," Teyla said, trying to find hope in the situation.
"Carson's strong. He can fight this." Ronon joined the conversation for the first time.
Elizabeth nodded, appreciating their attempts to re-assure her.
"Have you told Dr Cole about this yet?"
"Nope, we wanted to tell you first."
Elizabeth nodded at John's remark, before touching her ear-piece.
"Dr Cole, could you report to my office."
"Sorry Dr Weir, I'm afraid I can't!" The medics voice sounded strained and anxious. John and Elizabeth exchanged a worried look. "It's Carson, he's coding"