Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Stargate Atlantis, its characters and all related entities are the property of MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions and The SciFi Channel. Story created for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made.


AN: This story is finished (some 9.000 words), it just needs brushing up. I'll try to update asap. Recently, I am so short of time to check spelling, grammar, consistency etc. properly that it's getting truly pathetic... Please accept my humble apologies and feel free to point out remaining errors.

AN2: This is set in season 2 (or later), because it assumes Caldwell and the Daedalus to be around, but there are no season 2 spoilers.

AN3: Yes, yes, yes, I know that the sentence 'First Do No Harm' is not literally in the Hippocratic Oath or (at least some of) its present-day variants. But the idea is in there. And it's conveniently shorter for a title, too.

AN4: It just had to be Carson, this time…-sigh- I'm having enough difficulty with plain English as it is, never mind going Scottish! Hence, I would like to apologize in advance for my mutilation of the cute accent. I have tried not to write too phonetically, hence no 'yeh' or 'tae' instead of 'you' and 'to', because -apparently- that annoys some people… Any pointers to revamp the accent, such astypical sentence constructions, are always welcome...


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Primum Non Nocere

(First Do No Harm)

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1

-

Still.

So still.

And pale. Almost translucent.

Not of this world. A mere ghost of reality.

The mirage of a man.

He was a good man.
Not excellent in any kind of way.
He wasn't gifted with a genius mind. He wasn't famed for physical strength or endurance. He wasn't adored for good looks or social skills.

In fact, hardly anyone on Atlantis even knew he existed. Except of course the medical staff. And those believing the 'urban legend' that some of the former group had started…

If Carson ever found out which bloody fools hadn't kept their tongue to themselves, he'd have their daft heads send back to Earth on a stake.

"Doctor Beckett?"

"What?" Carson snapped in uncharacteristic irritation at the sudden intrusion of his quiet introspection.

He whipped around, intent on releasing some good ol' Scottish ire at the next bloody nuisance, but the second he saw the hurt look in nurse Kent's face, the anger was drained from him and only a bone-deep weariness remained.

And remorse.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Betty. I dinnae mean to snap at you." Ruefully, he thought this apologizing was getting far too frequent for comfort.

He rubbed his eyes with shaky fingers, willing the tiredness that threatened to close them away, before settling his soft blue gaze on one of his most diligent workers. "You're away to bed?"

"Yes, doctor, it's nearly 1 am. It's been a long day…, for the both of us." Betty said, looking pointedly at him with a gentle compassion that told Carson she understood his reluctance to leave.

"Aye, lass, but I'm no going yet. I just need a wee moment more, to settle some thoughts." He sighed, valiantly stifling a yawn.

Betty just nodded "Good night.", gave him a sad little smile and left.

Silence fell over the infirmary room again like a heavy blanket, but instead of being soothing like before, it now smothered the atmosphere. Suddenly Carson irrationally felt like there was an acute lack of oxygen for him to consume.

After one last lingering look at the pale face, and a small encouraging pat on the limb hand, Carson fled the infirmary, escaping to the nearest balcony.

The night air was cool, and he enjoyed taking several large breaths, imagining the inhaled oxygen rush through his body, feeding chemical reactions to get his muddled brain into a higher gear.

"Mum, I'm fair ferfochen." He whispered to the small bright star above the North East Tower that he secretly thought of as earth.

Never mind Rodney's far too many lectures about how far the milky way was and how impossible it would be to catch even a glimpse of its closest star without advanced space telescopes. To him, that bright spot in the nightly dark represented the home he had left.

And even if it was in his imagination, talking to his dear mum always worked wonders for his peace of mind.

Yet this night, that peace remained elusive.

This night, his thoughts were haunted by the ghost of a man.

This night, he had to make one of the hardest decisions in his life.


-

2

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"Carson, I leave the decision to you." Elizabeth said, her voice purposefully emotionless, but those large green eyes clearly showed the anguish she felt at passing on the burden to her chief medical officer.

Carson's head shot up immediately. Baby blue eyes blinked fast several times, and then widened when the initial confusion was quickly replaced by realization. "Oh, nae, Elizabeth, I couldn't possibly…"

Elizabeth's hand gripping his arm gently brought him to a halt. "Carson, you were the closest thing to a confidant he had."

Slightly peeved, he corrected her: "Are. Has. He's nae dead just yet!"

Immediately he regretted his harsh words when she flinched and quickly drew back her hand as if his arm had turned scalding hot.

"Oh, Elizabeth, I'm sorry…" He hung his head, ashamed of his unprofessional show of emotions.

Lord, he felt so tired…

He jumped slightly when Elizabeth gently squeezed his hand. "Carson, try to get some rest first. You have been on your feet for the better part of these past 4 days."

He sighed as he got up; "Aye, try I can."

At the door, Elizabeth's voice stopped him: "And, Carson…"

He turned around wearily.

Her gaze was soft and warm and compassionate, and she allowed the gratitude to seep through even in her voice: "Thank you for saving Rodney, for believing against all odds and fighting against our scepticism all the way. We owe you, Carson…"

He smiled sadly, waving away the praise for what he considered was merely an evident attitude for a physician.

Regardless, the acknowledgement warmed his heart, and thawed some of the chill that had settled there since he had been delivered the dreadful news this morning.

He consciously squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and nodded his goodbye to Elizabeth.

Her whispered parting words anchored themselves in his mind and their echo gave him the strength to endure the long hours that would follow.
"For every life lost, you have saved over a tenfold more. Count your successes, instead of your sorrows…"


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3

-

"Ah, Kate, I was just dropping by to check if Rodney has shown up for his appointment at 5 o'clock?" Carson asked, not liking the critical once-over he got from Atlantis's resident psychologist.

"No, he hasn't. Not that that surprises me much…" Kate Heightmeyer frowned.

"I'm more confused as to why you show up personally on my doorstep, instead of just giving me a call." She tapped her ear-set demonstratively, all the while looking intently at Carson, making him feel like a specimen trapped under a microscope.

"You are a terrible confabulator, dr. Beckett." She crossed her arms, tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, striking the classical female position for 'confess now or suffer dire consequences'.

"I'm sorry, I… I wanted a word with you, if you'll permit me?" The lost and frightened look in his soft blue eyes effectively vanquished any traces of irritation, and brought forth the mother hen fussing.

"Oh, Carson, of course, come on in. Just have a seat, and I'll get you a cup of coffee. Or maybe some tea?"

He graced her with a tired smile: "Tea would be lovely, lass, thank you."

"So," she said gently over her shoulder as she busied herself setting tea, "What is it you'd like to discuss about?"

Carson's voice was merely more than a whisper: "Private Reynolds…"

The resulting silence was shattered brutally by a tea spoon clattering to the floor.

Kate blushed as she ducked for the wayward utensil.

Feeling incredibly guilty for introducing the knotty topic to her so suddenly, Carson quickly got to his feet, intent on helping her clean up the spilled tea.
But his slumbering headache flared up, the world swayed alarmingly in a blur of colours fading to grey and he suddenly found himself on the floor with no memory as to how he'd gotten there.

"Carson?" A familiar female voice filtered trough the buzz in his head.

He lazily focussed on a blond curl, patiently waiting while his headache slowly faded to the background again.

"Carson!" The voice sounded louder now, and very worried.

He didn't want people to worry on his account, so he gathered all his strength and directed it to clearing his fuzzy mind. Slowly, the world slid back into full focus, and he smiled weakly as he recognized Kate Heightmeyer kneeling next to him.

Then, his memory returned, and he frantically scrambled into a sitting position, using the sofa in his back to keep him balanced. Briefly, the pain and light-headedness flared up again, but this time, he managed to force it away.

"Are you OK, Carson? Do you want me to get a wheelchair or can you make it to the infirmary yourself?" Kate hovered nearby anxiously, no doubt scared witless at his graceless tumble to the floor.

"Nae." He waved the suggestion away. "I just stood up too fast, got a wee bit giddy, that's all." He tried to smile reassuringly: "I'll be fine, just need to be getting some food down…"

He knew he was a terrible liar, the nervous unease in his eyes betraying him every time, as his mum always fondly reminded him. Unsurprisingly, he failed spectacularly in convincing Kate that he was all right.

"Sure, Carson." She huffed, monitoring him closely as he gingerly hoisted himself into the sofa. "I recommend you catch up on some sleep right thereafter." Her voice softened: "You are just the CMO, not Superman…"

Carson joked feebly: "Nae, we'll be leaving that title for Rodney…"

"Mmmm." She harrumphed, remembering her other wayward patient, "Let's see if we can make it to the mess hall without any more dizzy spells, shall we? After all, it's one of the most likely places to find dr. McKay at 7 pm…"