It was two days since they returned and Carson had spent most of the time sleeping. At first, Andrews had insisted he stay in the infirmary for closer supervision, but then agreed to let him sleep in his quarters.
Andrews had also suggested that someone should be with him, so when Carson woke up, he wouldn't be alone. Rodney suspected he had nightmares, caused by the latest wraith-related experience, but he hoped he wouldn't find out. Not from trying to calm Carson down after one, anyway.
Carson had been unusually quiet during his few minutes of wakefulness, and Rodney wondered when all this was going to be over. He had no doubt Carson could keep quiet for a while, then put the happy man mask and go on for god knew how long, until something else happened and he couldn't hold it in any longer.
A soft mumbling noise came from Carson's bed and Rodney asked softly, "What did you say, Carson?" As far as he knew, Carson didn't talk in his sleep, so it was probably some sleep-induced request.
"Wa'er," he mumbled, a bit louder this time.
Rodney filled a glass and took it to Carson, gently supporting him as he tried to get up to a sitting position. After a few moments, the glass was empty and Carson slouched down on the pillows.
"I know I shouldn't feel this lousy… all the scans came back clean, but I'm so damn tired," he said, almost apologetically. "I know you have better things to do, but at the same time I don't want you to go."
"Don't worry, if I have to go, Sheppard could come, or Teyla," Rodney said, smiling.
"I'd rather you didn't."
Rodney looked at him, slightly surprised by the admission. "Me too."
Carson fell asleep shortly after that and Rodney tried to remember. Carson had told him things he hadn't told anyone else.
"He was sorry." Carson's voice was low, sad, puzzled.
"Sorry about what he did?" Rodney asked, pouring a bit of wine in Carson's glass and a bit more in his.
"No, he was sorry I made it through." Carson sat down on his armchair and accepted the glass of wine. After taking a sip, he put the glass down, closing his eyes. "I died in this chair."
"Don't ever remind me of that," Rodney said, his voice filled with dread.
"Sorry. It seems so distant now, so foreign," Carson admitted.
"I've been meaning to ask you two things."
"Aye," Carson said, eyes still closed.
"Two days ago, you said you would rather have me be here, than the others. Why?" Rodney knew Carson would say something about friendship, but he was somehow hoping for something different.
"I trust you."
That was certainly different. "Trust me to… what?"
"Understand." Carson kept his eyes closed, his head slightly tilted to his right, arms curled around his raised feet. "And the other question?"
"What were going to give me… of your things?"
Carson smiled, opened his eyes and looked at Rodney. "Everything."
"But… why?" Rodney asked, confused.
"I trust you. You would have known what to do with them better than me."
Rodney put the glass down and closed his eyes. A smile slowly made its way to his lips.