Four weeks earlier. . . .

Carson Beckett had been working for seventeen hours straight. No breaks, not even for meals. He'd sipped water and a weak tea that the locals offered him, but he still felt the headache brought on by too much work and not enough food.

Stripping the gloves from his hands, he rubbed his eyes and looked around. These people needed him. He'd been on this world for two weeks now, serving and trying to ease the pain Michael had inflicted. While Michael had ceased infecting worlds with his modified Hoffan drug, the survivors of that drug somehow carried it to new worlds, infecting new people and causing new epidemics. It was a never ending cycle, one he hoped to eventually end.

But, for now, he needed food. And rest. He'd only slept for three hours before the newest round of patients had come to the clinic, some of them too sick to do much more than relieve their symptoms until the end. It wore on him, and he felt the pressure like nothing else. He knew what it felt like to die, to waste away from something inside about which you could do nothing.

Realizing that he could do nothing else tonight, Carson pushed to his feet and left the clinic. He had nurses, local volunteers who sat with the sick and comforted them as they died. Carson hated that he could only save a third of the people, and that third would likely carry the plague with them wherever they went. Choosing not to think about that aspect of this entire ordeal, he entered the one-room house he'd been given near the clinic and found a plate of food sitting on the table. A napkin covered it, and he smiled.

When he showed up on a new world, people flocked to him. He was from Atlantis, the City of the Ancestors, and they trusted him. He was honest, gently telling them the truth about their illness and the likelihood of their recovery. And he always had one family that provided for him. This world was no different. Tonight, he found a simple yet filling meal on the table, the plate still warm though the food wasn't exactly fresh. Rather than complaining, he settled on the three-legged stool to eat.

Stomach filled, Carson gathered some clean clothing from his suitcase and headed for the rear of the house. He'd educated these people on the benefits of cleanliness, and they'd begun making changes. Tonight, he drew cold water from the well and scrubbed his body while shivering in the damp evening air. Rain was coming, and he wanted to make the most of it by sleeping the night away.

With his hair looking a lot like Sheppard's, Carson slipped into his pallet with a sigh. He'd once slept in the best beds humanity had to offer, but, tonight, he was grateful for a thin mat with clean sheets and a thin blanket. As soon as his head touched the pillow he began drifting.

Voices outside his door pulled him from the brink of sleep. He'd barely managed to get his eyes to stay open when someone pounded on the door.

"Alright, keep yer shirt on." Carson sat up and reached for the pullover he kept at the foot of his bed. He padded across the room and opened the door, expecting another patient or a nurse telling him the end had come.

Sheppard grinned at him. "Hey, Doc."

Carson blinked stupidly. "Colonel?" Then, he realized that he was staring. "Come in." Stepping back, he let the small group into his home, surveying them as they did so. Sheppard looked good. About the same as he always did, with that hair that just refused to lay down. Rodney seemed piqued, like he'd been dragged out of the house at midnight. Teyla smiled gently, Ronon carried several crates, and a fifth person ducked through the door.

Carson stared. When he'd last seen Alison Porter, she'd been headed back to Earth and to the funeral for Alicia Vega. Their experiences with Michael's early hybrids had dampened everything he'd hoped to share with her, so it was a surprise to see her here.

She smiled at him, her blue eyes hesitant as a lock of dark hair fell over one eyebrow. Her hair seemed a touch longer, though it could be his faulty memory. But she held his gaze without looking away. "Dr. Beckett, it's good to see you again."

"Oh, aye!" Carson smiled and finally closed the door behind the group. "You, too, Dr. Porter. When did you get back?"

"About two days ago." She nodded. "I took some time to decide if I wanted to stay on Major Teldy's team." She shook her head, glancing away as her eyes filled with tears. "I couldn't. . . ."

Carson touched her shoulder, understanding the emotional agony she felt. "I know," he said softly. Rather than drawing further attention to her, he turned to Sheppard. "Colonel, what brings you out tonight?"

"Actually, doc, it's noon back on Atlantis." Sheppard glanced around. "You've got a nice place here."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Carson shook off the lingering headache and walked over to the wood burning stove, stirring the coals as he talked over his shoulder. "But it's better than sleeping on the hard ground or having the rain run you out of your bed."

"I'm sure it is." Sheppard rocked forward onto the balls of his feet and then dropped back on his heels. "So, we thought we'd bring you some supplies."

Rodney, who had been slowly circling the room, turned. "And help," he said.

Carson blinked and glanced at Dr. Porter. "You?"

She nodded with an embarrassed expression on her face. "Me."

Carson couldn't keep the grin from his face. "It'll be great to have ye here."

"Thank you, Dr. Beckett."

"Carson, please." He smiled, still exhausted but more than happy to ignore the symptoms. Turning, he found Teyla smiling, Sheppard smirking, and Rodney glancing between him and Alison. "What?"

"Nothing." Sheppard shrugged. "Just wonderin' where you want the supplies."

"How much is there?"

"Just a Jumper full."

Carson's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "A Jumper full? Of what?"

Sheppard motioned to Alison, and she shrugged. "Medications, stuff Dr. Keller thinks might help the symptoms, gloves, bandages, blankets, sheets, computer equipment, extra batteries. . . ." She grinned at him. "A portable lab."

Carson actually laughed. "I don't know what to say."

Ronon, of all people, stepped forward. "Just tell us where to put it."

A flurry of activity ensued, with Carson directing the chaos while Alison tried to help as much as possible. Finally, the small home was filled with medical equipment and humanitarian supplies, something Carson had been unable to provide. He'd contacted Atlantis when he'd changed planets, following the disease, but he'd run dry a long time ago. Standing back, he surveyed the pile. "This should make an interesting day tomorrow."

Sheppard eyed him. "Just be careful, Doc."

Carson nodded. "Aye." He sighed tiredly. Now that the surprise of Sheppard's presence had worn off, his exhaustion returned. He glanced at Alison. "No offense, Dr. Porter, but no one else came with you?"

She shook her head regretfully. "Sorry. Just me."

For a moment, Carson's mind went to every problem with that. There was too much work for just two people. She'd be working in some of the worst possible situations, and they would need a lot more than this to help combat the sickness Michael had unleashed. And Alison was pretty. Carson shook his head and nodded. "Aye. And you're a welcome sight. I'd just hoped. . . ."

She nodded. "I understand."

Sheppard looked at Carson. "Is there anything else you need?"

Carson eyed the supplies, seeing the hours of work just to get them organized and distributed. "No, Colonel. Thank you for bringing these."

Sheppard nodded and smiled at Alison. "Dr. Porter." He led his team from the small house.

Carson let out a deep breath, feeling the tiny house shrink. He'd liked Alison when they got the chance to work together last time, and he hadn't quite forgotten the way she made him feel years younger. And alive. But having her in his home, humble though it may have been, was intimate. They had nowhere to hide. He turned to her. "I hate to sound rude or ungrateful, but you should get some sleep."

She nodded at him. "You're right." Rather than glancing around, she went directly to a single crate. "I brought some things. I hope you don't mind."

Carson frowned until she opened the crate and pulled out a brand new pillow. "Oh, you are a treasure."

She flushed. "I don't know about that. But I figured I'd help make things as comfortable as possible." She held up a vacuum-sealed package. "A pillowcase fresh from the dryer."

He shook his head. "You have no idea. . . ."

"I think I do." She smiled. "I got the offer to come work with you while I was back on Earth. I thought about it for a long time before I agreed. Then, I spent as much time thinking about what I'd miss being away from Atlantis. Freshly washed sheets was one. A good pillow."

"Good strong coffee," he added and laughed when she held up another vacuum-sealed package. "You thought of everything!"

"I hope so." She smiled and then glanced around. "I have a tent, or I can set up my pallet in the clinic."

"Oh, nonsense!" Carson also looked around and cleared a spot near the stove. "I don't know how cold you get at night, but you can sleep over here. I'll be a proper gentleman, and we'll work it out just fine."

Alison flushed again. "Thank you, Dr. Beckett."

"Carson." He couldn't resist smiling at her. "I thought we agreed to that a while ago."

"We did." She held his gaze for a few more moments and then found her bedroll. "Have a good night, Carson."

"You, too, Alison." He carried the fresh pillow over to his pallet and kicked aside the flattened one he'd been given by his host. Opening the vacuum-sealed pack with the pillow case in it, he smiled as he slipped the case onto the pillow. It even sounded crisp. Ignoring the woman quietly setting up her bed across the room, he buried his face in the pillow and took a deep breath. It smelled like home.

Lying down, Carson sighed as the quality pillow supported his neck. He loved freshly-washed linens. It reminded him of those summer days in the highlands when his mum took the laundry out to dry on the line rather than in the dryer. During his last trip to Earth, he'd looked her up. She was happily living in a retirement community some distance from home. Carson had cried as he drove away, knowing he wouldn't even be able to attend her funeral. Not as himself, anyway. When that day came, he'd likely find a way to disguise himself and go.

He shifted in his pallet and listened to Alison sigh as she settled in for the night. Her breathing evened out, and he smiled. The pillowcases were a small thing, but they made a big difference.

Carson Beckett fell asleep happy to know that he was no longer alone in his fight against Michael's cruel experiments.

oOo

Alison Porter lay in her pallet, staring at the ceiling and wide awake. The time change in Pegasus always threw her, and she knew she likely wouldn't sleep for hours. But Carson needed her to relax. She'd glanced over at him as he lay down and saw the way he buried his face into the pillow and breathed in the fresh smell of the pillowcase. It was such a small thing, but seeing his reaction made her happy.

His breathing hitched, and he snored softly. Alison smiled at that and pulled the book and flashlight from their hiding place under her pillow. Rolling onto her side, she flipped on the light and began reading. She'd brought a lot of her favorite novels in a compressed file on one of the computers, but she sometimes wanted the old-fashioned feel of an honest-to-goodness book. Tonight's novel was no exception. She was quickly drawn into the world of a woman searching for her missing drug addict daughter as the police tried to catch her interventionist's killer. The story intrigued Alison, as did the heartbeat of the mother, and she fell asleep as she read the final pages of the book.

~TBC

Author's Note II: The book mentioned here is one that I read as I started this story. It's called "Intervention," by Terri Blackstock. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! ~lg