Touched By An Ancient
By Ann3
Writer's note - thanks again for all the latest reviews, they've made my weekend !
And to answer TierneyBeckett's question, according to the Internet Movie Database, Paul McGillion was born on 5 January 1969, sharing his birthday, if not the year, with Joe Flanigan, who was born on 5 January 1967. David Hewlett is nicely in the middle, born on 18 April 1968. I hope that helps !
Okay then, on with chapter eleven... and those surprises for Carson just keep on coming... ;o)
Chapter 11
"A right bloody bletherer, isn't he…? This Rodney…?"
That, Carson reflected through helpless laughter, took the art of understatement to a whole new level.
"Aye, he is that, dad… one of a kind, that's our Rodney…"
Studying his left hand, still tingling from its subconscious link between them, his smile then faded – his voice conveying the same regret that those few precious moments of contact back to the real world hadn't lasted longer.
"He's still a good friend, dad… even though he hurt me like hell, just before all this happened, and… well, I – I just hate this worry I'm causing him, dad… this worry I'm causing all of them…"
"Aye, that's my wee Carsie… always frettin' over others, ne'er himself…" his father chuckled, favouring his son with a parent's unique combination of proud approval and gentle exasperation. "Ye havenae changed, son… in all these years, ye havenae changed a bit…"
"That's just it, dad… I have changed… you know that as well as I do…" Carson replied softly – the resentment he'd always felt at its enforcement upon him simmering through his next words. "That sweet wee boy who'd bawl his eyes out if he so much as trod on an ant in the garden…? Who drove his mother spare each time another new pet that needed nursing came home with him…? He's all grown up now, dad. He's a doctor now. A medical doctor, honour bound to save lives…"
Carson then swallowed hard, fighting a near impossible battle to hold onto rollercoastering emotions. When he finally spoke again, his voice was so quiet that the wind around them almost took it away.
"But he can destroy lives too, dad. On the whim of his mind, this doctor can commit mass murder…"
There was more to it, of course. So much more behind his anger and bitterness. His crippling terror. How to face it, though…? How to confront, and release, over thirty years of furious, bitter anger…? Just that brief outburst of it had left him physically shaking, his heart thudding with dizzying force. God knew how he'd handle the rest of it.
A gentle hand on his shoulder came as a surprise – and one hell of a welcome blessing.
"You really hate it, don't you, son…? This so very special gift you've been given…?"
Another priceless understatement. Except there was no laughter this time. Not even a flicker of a smile. Just the warningly rising voice of a son whose freefalling emotions now threatened to overwhelm him.
"That 'gift' ended up killing you, dad…! And it's probably going to get me killed too, and... and… damn it, dad, it – it killed you…! It killed you, it – it took you away from me, and mum, and… and… yes, dad… yes, I hate it, this – this wonderful gift… and every bloody thing associated with it…!"
Back in the real world, anyone within the immediate area would have been running for cover by now. When Carson Beckett's eyes blazed as fiercely as this, you knew you were in trouble. Serious trouble.
In the depths of his subconscious, though, a gently calming hand remained resolutely on his shoulder – the voice of its owner breaking through walls of pure fury, to the confused and anguished soul beyond.
"In that case, son, ye must hate me too… because I'm the one who allowed it to happen…"
Brief and to the point. And, in fatherly hindsight, very much the case of being cruel to be kind. But the wide eyed, astonished silence which resulted from it told Alex Beckett that it had worked.
He didn't do or say anything, though, to break that silence, or to interrupt its vital significance. Instead he offered his shellshocked son the same gentle smile he'd seen himself, many years before – squeezing his shoulder in slow, calming, soothing encouragement until, at last, Carson re-found his voice.
"You – You allowed it to happen…? You – You let it kill you…?"
Even as another patient nod and smile answered him, Carson still couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Everything he'd known, thought he'd known, about his father's death, now crashed down around him.
Over thirty years of bitter anger and resentment, unimaginable terror, suddenly lost their focus – just as his legs, already rubbery from hours of strenuous hiking, now lost their ability to support him.
Catching him, just in time, Alex Beckett then gently eased his unconscious son onto the ground – allowing himself a rueful smile as, propping Carson gently against him, he fondly kissed the top of his head.
"Sorry, son… those bedside manners o' yours must ha'e come from your mother…"