Author's note: Well, real life is kicking back in guys and it's back to work soon now that the holidays are over. Then there's also the fact that I've reached the end of my semi-polished chapters so it's going to take me a bit to get new stuff posted. I'll do my darnedest to make sure you don't have to wait long though, because this is far from over and I appreciate all who have favorited, followed, and reviewed this little story. I hope you enjoy this next chapter from Carson's perspective.

Carson Beckett Remembers

Carson Beckett shifted in the uncomfortable SGA infirmary chair and pulled a hand up to massage his aching neck. He'd been sitting at this particular bedside most of the night and the late hour and its effects on his not so young anymore body were starting to make themselves known.

The newly reenlisted Brigadier General John Sheppard, his oldest and dearest of friends, was sleeping peacefully enough in the bed before him, looking relaxed in the low, overhead light of the infirmary... but that was only a recent achievement. When Carson had gotten him back to the medical wing John had been delirious from dehydration and feverish from the events of the day and Carson eventually had to give the man a sedative so the dreams making him thrash about and call out to long dead friends would give him a few moments peace to get the sleep he so desperately needed. Carson had a feeling that John Sheppard had not been sleeping (or eating) much since he'd arrived on base and even though he'd been monitoring Sheppard's training session with Fitzpatrick the whole time from a hidden room just off the training facility to make sure everything went according to plan, he had not expected the experience to be so intense that the man would keel over suddenly and land himself in the infirmary. Carson closed his eyes on a heavy sigh and images of what he had seen danced in the black spaces behind his eyelids.

Former Petty Officer Sean Fitzpatrick had been brought in to prepare John for returning to Atlantis and while Carson would almost name what the former Seal had done 'brutal', he'd still managed to pull something out of General Sheppard that no one else would have been able to. Perhaps it was the fact that the former Navy Seal was a stranger, and not someone who'd lived through those awful moments after Atlantis had returned to Earth and began blowing the Wraith ships out of the sky, that had made it possible in the end. Whatever the reason for it, Carson was just happy that John Sheppard had let out some of the details about what had happened to him that day, and could now maybe begin that most arduous journey of healing.

"…Woolsey ordered me to open fire on every hive ship we came near once we got back to Earth."

"And did you?"

"I did. Between me and some kid they'd put in the control chair at Area 51, we destroyed them all..."

Carson shuddered as visions of watching Sheppard say those words from the ancient TV screen in the observation room that colored everything it showed in sickly green, came to mind.

When Carson had been sent back to Earth to man the Area 51 weapons platform, he'd done his best to protect the planet against the Hive ships and their Darts with the drones that had always scared the crap out of him ever since that day, so many years ago, when he'd nearly shot John Sheppard and Jack O'Neill's helicopter down. He had been in the thick of the Wraith surprise attack when General Landry had arrived from Washington unexpectedly and what had happened next would change his life irrevocably. God, he could still remember the look on that man's face when he'd barged into the Control Chair room, told Carson to stop because the Wraith had begun culling en masse in a giant wave that was decimating the 302 pilots and the world. But then the big wigs had shown up, and everything had turned into a bloody mess.

They had ordered Carson back into that chair with directions to shoot down every single Dart and Hive he could target, even though there were countless innocent people trapped aboard, but he had refused... and he would struggle with that decision every single day for the rest of his life. Maybe if he had just stayed in the chair, he could have changed the course of the future somehow, warned John maybe, instead of being hauled off by armed guards while an 18 year old kid that had been given the gene therapy he had created (and who would follow orders blindly) replaced him in the chair. It was one of those elusive 'what if' moments that never gave him a moments peace and continually haunted the back of his mind like some dark specter. Carson shifted uncomfortably under the weight and anger of that past but didn't let his mind wander over to other, safer things like it wanted to. Instead he let what happened next play out in vivid detail – as pivotal moments of one's life so often seemed to do - as if the events had happened only yesterday, and not over 18 years ago.

He had been so outraged that the leaders of the Stargate program were about to sacrifice a quarter of the Earth's population that he knew he needed to try and do something. Atlantis was on her way to Earth to help in the fight and he had prayed that John Sheppard of all people would be able to talk some sense into the minds of the madmen apparently running the show. But he would learn a little later from Landry - who was able to smuggle him off base and onto a helicopter to fly to the SGC - that Atlantis had been cut off from all radio communication on the IOA's orders and that John was flying the city into a massacre, not realizing what he was about to do. Thankfully though, there were still people out there who were trying to prevent that from happening and, with some help from Samantha Carter, Carson had been able to gate onto Atlantis after the Hive holding the gate the Wraith were using to block them out had been destroyed. He had this one chance to warn John, to give those 2 billion people trapped aboard the hives a chance at rescue, but he had been too late. God forgive him, he hadn't made it in time and John Sheppard found out what it was he had just done a few minutes later and lost control of the city to crash her into the clear waters of the San Francisco Bay by the sheer force of that unimaginable betrayal. John was a hero, the consummate soldier, and with one unthinkable order to fire, given to him by Woolsey on the orders of top military leaders that John had put his faith in to do the right thing, (and Carson's own failure to reach Atlantis in time) and they had managed to decimate one of the best men Carson Beckett had ever known.

But John's betrayal wasn't the only atrocity to happen that day. General Hank Landry had given his life to smuggle Carson out of Area 51 and onto his private helicopter that flew him over to Cheyenne; shot in the back by advancing guards who were just following orders like so many had that god-forsaken day. And just like that, that ultimate sacrifice performed by a man who ranked right up there with Sheppard on Carson's list of legendary men, had been in vain. Carson hadn't gotten to Atlantis in time.

But there would be light at the end of the tunnel eventually.

Those responsible for what had happened had ultimately been brought to justice; due mostly in part, he knew, to Rodney's heroics by sealing himself off in a lab and threatening to release all the details of what had gone down directly to the public (along with the names of every individual involved in making the decision to sacrifice half the population rather than try to find an alternative to get their people back) unless someone did something. The gamble had paid off, though Rodney had risked his life, Cameron Mitchell and Sam Carter had lost theirs, and Carson could only imagine how that made the slumbering man in front of him feel.

John had spent the last 18 years of his life in a kind of self-imposed exile for what he felt he was responsible for, believing all the while that he was being hunted by men who were no longer relevant, and had just recently learned - as Rodney had admitted to telling him rather crudely - that people had died trying to accomplish what he couldn't in his exile. But no matter how much John Sheppard might beat himself up over dropping off the grid, neither Carson, nor any other person on that base, thought the less of him for doing it.

Of all the people involved in what had happened that day, it was John Sheppard who had been dealt the deadliest of blows. There was nothing John wouldn't do, no lengths he wouldn't go, to protect the people of Earth and in one ultimate act of betrayal, all of that had all been ripped away from him. He'd been tricked into the unimaginable and the IOA and the other members of the military involved knew John wasn't just going to just sit idly by and keep quiet about what it was he had been made to do. He'd made that point very clear in the moments after the crash when he informed Woolsey that he would be out for blood, and those involved had done the only thing they could think of at the time to shut him up for good: send someone in to kill him before he could reveal to the remaining people of Earth just what exactly had happened that day amongst the stars. Add attempted murder at the hands of those he'd trusted most with the devastation the man must have felt for having been a part of the deaths of so many people, and Carson Becket could understand why John had run and left this life in the dust. No one would ever fault him for that, though Carson was certain John still did.

Oh how he wished they would have had some idea of where John had gone in the weeks and months that followed so they could have brought him back to be involved in the plans to indict every last member of the IOA and the American Military that had been involved. Some of those bastards had been hoping that the chaos after The Great Culling would be enough to cement them in power further and hide what they had done, but Rodney McKay had quashed that dream pretty quickly and had made sure that each and every last one of those cowards were made to pay. And he was just sorry Sheppard hadn't been around to see it all go down and was instead left alone to deal with secrets so heavy Carson was amazed the man hadn't cracked under the weight of them sooner.

Yet as terrible as what John Sheppard had been tricked into doing, there was another side to things; a trait, Carson mused, attributable to most evil deeds.

At the height of fighting, the Wraith were winning and decimating everything in their path. And while nearly 2 billion people had been killed aboard those Hives, in the end, hadn't that been better than the alternative? Spending the rest of their lives at the mercy of the Wraith to be fed on for an eternity if no other alternative could be found to save those that had been culled? So, what it came down to was that, while former Colonel John Sheppard had unwittingly followed an order that ended billions of lives, he was still a hero for having saved the remaining population and helping to absolutely decimate the Wraith fleet. They wouldn't be coming back to inflict more harm, and that was victory in its most bittersweet form and Carson Beckett hated the universe a little for it. The cost of it all was just too bloody high.

Carson glanced again at his friend and eyed the bruises blossoming up on John's face with a wary look and had half a mind to get up and check on the stitches he'd done himself in the cut on the side of John's face, but worried the movement might pull the poor lad from sleep. That was the last thing he needed. Fitzpatrick had really done a number on him, but John had given just as well as he'd received. Carson had nearly stepped in when the fight got vicious, but Fitzpatrick had a method and though Carson didn't entirely agree with it, even the base psychologist had signed off on everything and he had given his word not to intervene and let the formal Navy Seal do what he did best.

Sean Fitzpatrick was still fairly young, but he was smart and it had been his idea to push John to his breaking point to see if they could get him to acknowledge and begin to deal with what had been done to him. They had all witnessed firsthand what the past was doing to him (Carson had actually feared for his safety for a moment there at the Reenlisting Ceremony) and there had been no doubt in his mind after that narrowly avoided disaster that something needed to be done. He'd reluctantly agreed to allow Fitzpatrick to go ahead with his plan after that, though he'd refused to let Rodney be a part of it, even though the scientist had tried to talk him into it. What Fitzpatrick had proposed was going to tear John apart, and it had worked, and what had transpired in that room was for John and John alone, and no one else's business. Carson would let the sleeping Brigadier General before him decide who got to know the details about what had happened, and who didn't.

The fight had taken a lot out of John (and not just emotionally) and Carson was currently pumping him full of IV fluids to combat his severe dehydration. He was going to have a few choice words with the unconscious general when he finally woke up and most of them were going to be about proper nutrition and the merits of a good night's sleep. John wasn't taking care of himself and they weren't going to get anywhere with all of this if he kept that up.

Carrying all the damage inflicted years ago right on his own shoulders was enough, but now the scars of the showdown with that heavy burden were going to be carried on his face as well. Every scrape and bruise both visible on his exposed skin, and those Carson knew where hidden beneath the infirmary blanket, were a testament to just how much John Sheppard had taken upon himself in the end and Carson's heart broke a little for him. He'd watched the whole exchange between Sheppard and Fitzpatrick from his little observation room, had a little more insight into what exactly was going on with John internally, and he only hoped that what had transpired would help the former Colonel in the long run, and not injure him further.

Only Carson wasn't really too worried about that. He knew the kind of man John Sheppard was inside. He knew that John would fight hard to get back to where he needed to be, if only to ensure the safety of the members of the expedition he was about to lead back to Pegasus. That was just who he was. Landry Jr. had approached Carson about John's state after that disastrous altercation in the hallway with Woolsey, but Carson had no qualms about dismissing the general's fears outright. Fitzpatrick was good at what he did, and so was Carson (when he let himself admit it), and they were going to get John Sheppard through this if it killed them. Even Rodney would do his part... though that scene in the corridor with Woolsey had been pretty intense, and not just because of John's reaction to seeing the man again after 18 years.

In those chaotic hours after John had crashed landed Atlantis into the San Francisco Bay and before the explosion that had nearly ended his life, the former Colonel had made a promise to Richard Woolsey in a scene so eerily familiar to the one that had transpired in the corridor only yesterday that Carson could hardly tell the two apart. He'd had to hold John back that day as well to keep him from attacking the man who they had all been growing to trust and respect, who'd caved under the strong-arm of the IOA and top military officials, had cut John off from radio communication so he didn't know what was happening, and had given him the order that had ended the world as they all had known it. If Woolsey had just waited, given them some time to try and come up with a better solution than murdering over 2 billion people, then maybe Carson wouldn't be here watching over the sleeping figure of John Sheppard having just watched the man fall apart completely under the weight of a burden so heavy no one man should ever have been made to carry it... But John had. He had been carrying it for nearly two bloody decades, and it had landed him in the infirmary and under Carson's care. And speaking of Carson's care, John's IV bag was nearly depleted and he pulled his tired body up from the chair he had been occupying for several hours to change the empty saline bag out for a fresh one, careful not to wake the sleeping general.

It was amazing how very different their lives had ended up becoming, his and John's, considering how intertwined they had been while involved with the Atlantis expedition. John had been forced into exile to live a life Carson knew nothing about, while he had been made to involuntarily return to Scotland after he'd made it quite clear to the new people running the United States government that he would not be continuing his ATA gene research after what had happened at Area 51. He would have gladly stayed on at the SGC after they had cleaned house, but ever since he'd been cloned and his predecessor killed, people had treated him differently, like he was substandard somehow and, even though Rodney had fought for him to be allowed to stay, in the end he was eventually sacked. He didn't regret retreating to Scotland for a moment though. There was no way in hell he was going to allow his research to be abused so completely like that ever again and he had been able to do some real good at home in those chaotic years after the Great Culling as the human race scrambled to pull itself back together, just as a doctor. He'd thrown himself into his work at a local hospital, helping in any way he could as the pandemonium erupted then eventually subsided and he tried to put the past behind him. It had never really quite worked though and he spent some dark years lost in the lonely hallways of the hospital he'd practiced at, cut off from the life he had loved and the friends he had held most dear.

Carson allowed his eyes wander over one of those friends yet again before he finally settled them on the high tech monitor bolted to the wall above John's bed to let his mind focus for a while on stats and percentages, blood pressure levels and oxygen saturations until movement caught his attention. For the briefest of moments Carson feared that John was once again caught in the throes of some unrelenting nightmare, but as he leaned forward over the prone figure on the bed, he watched as hazel eyes cracked open lazily and John Sheppard blinked around the room for a moment or two as if confused.

"Carson?" He croaked (voice still not 100% after the day's abuse) when he finally comprehended who it was that was standing over him at his bedside, watching him closely.

"Dinnea worry yerself lad," Carson calmed when John started to shift then let out a groan. "You're okay, just in the infirmary. Do ya need sumthin' for the pain?"

John shook his head then lifted his IV'd hand up to his face slowly before letting it drop back down to the blanket beside his legs. He looked over at Carson, perplexed.

"What happened?"

"You passed out on us, laddie. Nearly scare't the pants off young Fitzpatrick doin' it, too." Carson explained then watched John's brow furrow then smooth like it was all suddenly returning to him. He lost a little of his color and Carson moved forward, ready to act if things took a turn for the worse.

And they did take a turn for the worse, but not in the way he'd been expecting and John offered a soft "You knew, didn't you?" before turning anguish filled eyes in Carson's direction that nearly leveled him with what he saw behind them. He froze under that gaze, unable to do little more than nod, and John let out a strangled and shuddering sigh that nearly broke Carson's heart.

"Fitzpatrick... You planned it all." It was a realization, not a question and Carson nodded again. He had expected anger on John's part for being manipulated into facing his past the way he had been, and maybe that would come later, but for now he lay exhausted and exposed in an infirmary bed looking as lost and as broken as Carson Beckett had ever seen him. The 'first do no harm' part of his Hippocratic Oath pushed up into the forefront of his mind, but Carson was certain, now more than ever, that breaking John Sheppard down and making him face what had happened, had been the right thing to do.

"We did," he admitted solemnly.

"Rodney?"

"He wasnea there. I wanted to respect your privacy."

"Anyone else see?"

"Of course not, John. What happened in that training room is between you, Fitzpatrick, and me - but as your doctor only," he promised. "It's totally up to you if we tell anyone else."

"I let all those people die," John said next, pulling those mournful eyes away from Carson to stare at some indiscriminate spot across the room. He knew the heavy drugs he'd given John so he could get some rest were partly to blame for what was going on between them, but he knew these first few moments were critical and continued on cautiously.

"You forget that I was there, too John," he stated sadly and Sheppard's eyes snapped back over in his direction. "Or that it was my gene therapy that made it possible for the IOA to put that child in the chair when I refused to attack those Hives." John was watching him closely, something indescribable filling Sheppard's eyes now, and Carson forced himself to keep going even though the words were catching at the back of his throat and trying to choke him as his own eyes began to mist over.

"I should've done something more to make them stop and I was the one who wasn't able to get to Atlantis in time to warn you about what they were going to have you do. So if anyone should take the blame for all those poor souls who died, John Sheppard, 'tis me."

"But at least you stayed, Carson," John responded as he shifted slightly in the bed again. "I just ran away like some coward."

"Bloody hell, John!" Carson cried. "They were going ta kill you, lad!" He could still remember that Sergeant who had ordered him off the medevac helicopter after the explosion, and the desperate look on John's face the exact moment he'd realized that his life was in danger over what he knew and the threats he had made to Woolsey and the IOA. Carson had locked eyes with John through the helicopter door when it happened and it had taken 2 impressively large MPs to hold Carson back bodily as he'd fought to be allowed to go with and protect his friend. But in the end that cold, unfeeling face of the Sergeant sent to silence John had filled the doorway and snapped it shut as John was air-lifted up and away from Carson's reaching grasp. That was to be the last time he saw John, and the memory of their parting would haunt him for years, right up until the moment Rodney had burst into his tiny flat in Edinburgh to tell him that John had been found in some small backwater town in Wisconsin.

"But Rodney said..."

"I'm well aware of what Rodney said to you about runnin' away that day back at your cabin, John. And I know for a fact he didn't mean it and that it's been eatin' him alive ever since.

You are not some bloody coward. You're a good man who had a horrible thing happen to him and if you had'nea left when you did, you'd be dead son. End of story." Carson squared his shoulders and prepared for more pushback from John, but the counter arguments didn't come and he wondered if perhaps, finally, he was managing to get through to the man.

"Well it doesn't matter now, does it," John muttered unexpectedly and glanced away again looking more exhausted than before, if that was even possible.

Carson narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

John kept his eyes averted. "I completely lost it in the hallway with Woolsey and then again with Fitzpatrick in the training room. How could Landry let me stay on and lead the expedition after all that?"

Carson shook his head, but it wasn't to confirm John's suspicions. It was to convey his utter shock and bewilderment at what he was hearing coming out of his friend's mouth. Carson leaned forward to make sure his next words were understood completely by the man in the bed before him. John reluctantly looked back over at him.

"Now you listen to me, John Sheppard. There is'nea one living soul on this Earth who would ever expect you to live through what you did and not be changed by it. And quite frankly laddie, I'd be more concerned for you if you hadn't been affected by it.

You put your trust in men who betrayed you John, and it wasnea like they just stole some girl you were sweet on out from under you. It was reprehensible what they did, and no one comes out of something like that unscathed. Jesus, you have no idea how worried I was that the next time I was going to get news of you it was going to be because you'd put a bullet in your brain!

But you didn't. You didn't because you survived it all and I know that somewhere deep down in those twisted insides of yours you accept that it wasnea your fault, but that, like the rest of us, it kills you that you couldnae do anything to stop it!

So no, John, no one is going to take Atlantis away from you because you're human. All we're gonnea ask of you is that you make peace with it and trust us when we tell you that no one blames you, so tha' you can be the leader this expedition needs and fly our city back home." Carson watched something pass over the features of the man before him and prayed that it was the courage and determination he'd hoped his little impromptu speech would ignite within the brigadier general. He held his breath and waited for John to respond.

"Well, you don't ask for much, do you?" John said finally, one corner of his mouth curling upwards into an ever so slight half smile, and Carson could have cheered. It wasn't perfect and it wasn't a sign all was well, but he figured that smile (and the fact that some of the pain and anguish had left John's eyes) was a step in the right direction.

"Nothing more than I know you can handle, " he offered back and smiled himself.

John let out another sigh but this one bore no resemblance to its emotional predecessor and Carson could have sworn some of the tension in the room broke apart in that instant. "So how long are you going to keep me here?"

"Weel, seeing as how you havenea been takin' very good care of yourself, I want you to stay overnight at least."

"Oh come on Carson!" He complained a little impetuously but Carson put his hands up to stop him.

"I'm sorry, John, but those are tha' Doctor's orders."

.

SGASGASGASGASGASGASGASGASGA

.

Carson took it as a good sign that John slipped back into a seemingly dreamless sleep a little while later despite his protestations that, besides some aches and pains from the fight he'd had with Fitzpatrick, he was perfectly fine and should be allowed to leave. The man needed rest and time to heal, and not just from his physical ailments. Physically, there wasn't much wrong with him and once the IV bag he'd replaced a little while ago was done, Carson would let him leave and head back to his bunk, but emotionally... he could only hope that the little signs he'd seen were truly an indication that John Sheppard was on the mend.

Carson had taken back up his seat near the foot of John's bed to continue his vigil and he was joined after a while by Rodney who put a careful chair down on the floor beside Carson's and plopped down into it to take up the watch as well.

He'd been wondering when Rodney was going to make an appearance again. The scientist had been there when they'd first brought John in but had disappeared shortly after and right before Carson had finally sedated John to help him get some rest. It had been a hard thing to see, the state he was in when they had gotten him here, and Carson couldn't fault Rodney for needing to leave - though he was secretly relieved the man had returned. The SGC medical team didn't know this friend of theirs the way Rodney and Carson did and he was happy to have someone else around who knew what needed to be done for John.

"Has he woken up yet?" Rodney asked quietly so as not to disturb Sheppard and Carson nodded.

"Aye, about an hour or so ago."

"Did he say anything?" Rodney was looking John over, most likely cataloging the cuts and bruises visible on John's face just as Carson had done.

"We talked a bit, yeah." Rodney's roaming eyes snapped over to him.

"What happened?" It was a loaded question and Carson sighed, trying to decide what he should share with the scientist sitting beside him.

When they had met Major Scott Bradshaw in New York City to be debriefed on his efforts at getting John to return to the SGC and he had explained to them what had happened, it had been decided pretty quickly after that that Rodney should be the one to go in and try again - though Carson was surprised the man hadn't been thrown out of the SGC for the dressing down he gave Bradshaw and Landry for sending the Major in without contacting him. Rodney had been absolutely furious, but Landry had taken it in stride, realizing the mistake he had made in trying to appeal to John's sense of duty rather than handling the situation carefully like it should have been. John wasn't some simple solider that needed to be wined and dined with talk of serving his country. He was a hero who had given every last bit of himself to a country that had betrayed him, and if Rodney and Carson would have been notified the moment John was found, they probably could have avoided a lot of unnecessary stress on the former Colonel's part.

Carson had a sneaky suspicion that Woolsey had a lot to do with the stupid decision to send Bradshaw in first without notifying anyone of it first. He oversaw the department Bradshaw worked in after all, though he didn't deserve the position in the least, in Carson's opinion. The ruddy bastard had probably hoped Major Bradshaw would bring John back so he could get a chance to speak to him before Rodney could intervene, though Carson couldn't for the life of him understand why, considering the last time the two had seen each other John was threatening to kill the man as Rodney and Carson struggled to hold him back.

So Rodney McKay had been sent in next to try and help repair the damage done to John in the unfair ambush and had been keeping Carson in the loop on his progress ever since they'd gotten back. The astrophysicist was as much a part of this as any of them and, while loyalty to John would keep Carson from divulging exactly what had been said in the training facility earlier that day, he wouldn't keep Rodney in the dark about John's current condition.

"The whole thing was pretty hard on 'em. He collapsed after Fitzpatrick got him to open up and we're treatin' him for dehydration now. He's none the worse for wear, so dinnea worry yourself. Though I suspect he's gonnea be hurtin' for the next few days or so."

"He looks terrible," Rodney observed quietly, casting his eyes to the figure on the bed once more and Carson nearly snorted.

"You dinnea ken the half of it, laddie."

"Was that really necessary? Fitzpatrick beating him up like that? I mean, good grief," Rodney exclaimed, waiving a hand in the direction of the man still managing to slumber peacefully before them, "look at him, Carson!"

"Believe it or not, Rodney, but Fitzpatrick gave him most of tha' just by trying to defend himself in the end. I'm not gonnea tell you exactly what went down in that room, that's John's story to tell, but it wasnea a 'beat up John Sheppard' free for all. Fitz' approach worked, though John's gonnea need all our help facin' what happened. You'll need to be gentle."

"I'm always gentle!" Rodney replied as he stiffened, seemingly affronted at Carson's suggestion that he wasn't.

"Rodney McKay, you are about as gentle as the wood chipper my Da used to have on our farm growin' up!"

"Well I can't help it if no one understands how I work." A classic Rodney move from right out of the past.

Always someone else's problem and Carson shook his head with a laugh.

"Seriously though Rodney, he's gonnea need our help," Carson continued, sobering a bit again, and Rodney sent a glare his way but let the matter of the affront to his bedside manner lie.

The scientist looked back over at John and heaved a sigh. "He sure doesn't make it easy."

"And never did before, either, did he?" Carson mused. "He's always been such a private man, I worry he'll not let us in."

"Well then we'll just send him back to Fitzpatrick, right? Maybe they can box it out next," Rodney suggested with a smirk and Carson chuckled, shifting a bit in his chair to restore feeling to his tingling legs. He'd been sitting there too long.

"It's so weird to see him like this," Rodney continued. "On Atlantis it always seemed like nothing could touch him, you know? He got into his fair share of scrapes and was in your infirmary enough, but he always seemed to be able to let the emotional crap just roll right off of his shoulders. There were a few times over the years when he actually let it show that something was effecting him, but those were pretty few and far between, and now I look at him and worry that the next corner we round is going to send him into one of those panic attacks."

"I hear ya Rodney, but rest assured, I believe his sessions with Fitzpatrick will help him with that."

"Do you think it could be some kind of PTSD?" Rodney asked and Carson nearly smiled. Every once in a while Rodney McKay managed to remind him just how smart he really was.

"Well spotted, Rodney," he praised and Rodney just shrugged.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out."

"Weel, my guess is late onset post traumatic stress and most likely triggered by somethin' that happened a while ago, judging by how much it's effectin' him now." John was reliving the past over and over again in his dreams and now even when he was awake, and Carson wondered if his friend had self diagnosed himself yet, though he could understand if he hadn't. John was just trying to get through each day as best he could and the last thing he would want to do was sit down and try to analyze what was happening to him and then go seek out help to get it to stop. He was too introverted for that and would much rather attempt to handle it all internally, which was probably why it had progressed to the point it had. It was just who John Sheppard was, though Carson wished at times he could walk right up to the man and shake that stubbornness and refusal to ask for help right out of him.

Carson could only imagine what it must be like for John to see the past every time he closed his eyes, considering the horrors it held for him. From what had happened with the Hive ships to seeing Teyla's neck snapped right in front of him and Ronan stabbed in the back, it was a small wonder John Sheppard hadn't gone completely mad. But he hadn't because he was the strongest, most loyal, most selfless man Carson Beckett had ever met, and he didn't deserve one bit of the agony he'd been forced to endure for nearly two decades. Bloody hell, it was enough to make Carson want to shake his fists at the sky and bellow at the unfairness of it all...

"Carson?" His thoughts had taken him far away to angry places, and a tentative hand on his forearm brought him back to the present.

"Hmmm?"

"I was just asking if there is anything I can do in the meantime before you zoned out on me," Rodney said, giving him a worried little glance, but he ignored it.

"Sorry Rodney," he apologized quickly. "I would suggest to just keep doin' what you're doin'. Try to get him to open up about it as much as you can, I know that's what Fitzpatrick'll be doing for the next few weeks," he finished, rubbing at his tired eyes and cursing himself for not wearing his glasses for most of the afternoon. He could feel a headache starting to brew just behind his eyeballs from the long day of squinting at things and he prayed it wouldn't be a bad one. He had enough on his plate to deal with right now.

"You look like hell, Carson. Why don't you go get some sleep? I can stay with him for the rest of the night," Rodney suggested when Carson missed the next thing he said to him and he checked his watch with a weary yawn. It had been a very long day and he felt a bit on the inside like what John Sheppard looked like on the outside: that someone had used him as a punching bag for the day, and he decided to take Rodney's advice.

Carson left instructions with the night duty nurse to call him if anything changed and specific orders that John Sheppard was not to be released, under any circumstances, until he got a good night's rest and Carson had a chance to look over him in the morning, before saying goodbye to Rodney. He left the peaceful quiet of the infirmary, softly underscored by the steady beat of its lone inhabitant's heart monitor, and made his way back to the little bunk the SGC had given him that reminded him a little of the tiny flat in Edinburgh he'd left so many months ago.

A/N: Please take a minute to leave me your thoughts. I have no way of knowing what works and what doesn't unless I hear from you lovelies. Thank you!