AN: Thank you to the people who reviewed! You'll notice that I can take a hint. I changed the spacing...(looks sheepish) I actually like it better myself when things are more compact (you should see my note taking), but you guys have a good point (and the majority vote). I hope it's easier on the eyes now. It's not getting any easier for poor Carson though...


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6

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Hundreds of stars glittered in the midnight sky. The vast expanse of the galaxy around him humbled him, making him very conscious of how inconspicuous he was in this cosmic play.

After all, what did one Scottish lad mean to the universe? He was just one tiny star amongst billions, shining briefly before extinguishing into black nothingness...

After fleeing from the infirmary, Carson's feet had automatically guided him back to the same balcony as so many hours before.

But this time, he was standing alone. Ultimately, the decision was his and his alone, and although it had warmed his heart to find support with his friends, they couldn't take this responsibility of his shoulders.

In the quiet of night, their words drifted back to him on the lapping waves of the sea.

"The whole situation is wrong. Either decision you make is right in its own way."

He couldn't hide behind semantics, because a passive attitude implied a conscious choice as well.

If he did nothing, private Reynolds would be whisked away on the Daedelus tomorrow, to be tucked safely somewhere in a nice little veteran's hospital on earth, cared for by a competent staff, yes, but uncaringly cared for. A plant to be watered regularly. A few stubs of green, never to bloom again into a breathtaking flower.

And eventually, despite all the best care in the world, general decay would set in. Yes, they could slow it, prolong the suffering, but they couldn't prevent it…

So he had to decide if that was truly what he wanted to happen to the once so lively soldier.

"You are just the CMO, not Superman…"

His education didn't provide him any help in the matter. One of his supervising professors had once warned his students never to get emotionally involved with their patients. Sound advice… and bloody easy to say for a stuck-up nob prancing around in an 'industrialized' hospital who didn't even know his own students' names…

So vastly different from his situation, where he knew everyone from the expedition by name, many of them confiding personal things to him and even some who had become very close friends, yes, even family.

He knew histories, hopes, dreams.

He regrettably also knew how easily those could be shattered, gunned down or drained by life sucking aliens, blown away by exploding satellites or jumpers into the uncaring dark of space, or killed by his own incompetence…

Oh, God, Perna.

Why the bloody hell had he ever been so dottled as to think he could create in a few weeks what Hoffan scientists had been researching diligently for generations?

Why had he ever allowed himself to become excited when the compound had seemed to successfully repel the Wraith?

Why oh why hadn't he tempered the chancellor's exuberant enthusiasm more?

He should have known that they would be desperate enough to start inoculating before anything even vaguely resembling clinical studies. What had he expected, really? They had never heard of the bloody declaration of Helsinki, now, had they?

The daft buggers were more frightened of the extinction of their entire population than the wellbeing of one individual. The overwhelming results of their vote had driven that point home… in a very painful and unforgettable way.

On a certain impersonal level, Carson could even understand their twisted logic. His scientific mind knew that animals within a colony only live to serve the greater good; the survival of the species.

But his innate empathy would never allow him to support such a point of view…

"For every life lost, you have saved over a tenfold more. Count your successes, instead of your sorrows…"

He had become hardened, this past year, hit by the loss of too many casualties in their war against the wraith and the many other nasty surprises the Pegasus galaxy had to offer. Every patient, every friend, he lost, made another dent in his soul, provided another ghost to haunt his nightmares.

And Carson felt dangerously close to the point of breaking.

He cursed the Stargate for ever being discovered, the SGC for daring to recruit him and Atlantis herself for being the centre stage of a bloody massacre.

In response to his high-strung emotions, Atlantis responded and the balcony lights flickered on to their full dazzling power.

Momentarily blinded by the sudden onslaught of light, Carson felt a twinge of a familiar panic coming up.

He hadn't just activated one or another wee trinket by accident just now, had he?

His anger was drained away swiftly, to be replaced by a weary fear.

The lights dimmed.

God, he hoped everyone was fine. He didn't think he could handle the news of his little temper tantrum injuring a member of their crew, or God forbid, worse…

With baited breath, he waited, listening to the static in his ear set, praying that it wouldn't be broken by a frantic call for technical or medical assistance.

But no such call came.

Only after 5 minutes, Carson forced himself to relax, finding his hands twinge painfully when he unclenched them from their frantic grip on the balcony railing.

His friends were still safe… for now. Until a new day brought along its myriad of obstacles.

A new day that one man may not wish to see…

"Even though your mind may be confused, your heart will tell you the truth"

Jeffrey Reynolds may not have excelled in any kind of way, but he was an extraordinary man.

He had loved deeply, and then lost all he ever had hold dear and believed in. His home, his freedom, his health, his wife, his unborn child… And still he had fought every obstacle set on his path, stubbornly refusing to give in, still able to find beauty in a life many saw as aimless.

He had trusted Carson with his story, and Carson felt honoured and humbled to have learned the intense sadness, wisdom and courage behind a seemingly unremarkable man.

And because of his great admiration for that strong-willed spirit that refused to bow to the cruel winds of Fate, he now contemplated breaking his oath. Going against all he had ever practised in his chosen profession.

But his heart reminded him of another oath he had once sworn, a much longer time ago.

It hadn't been official. There had been no other witness except for mayhap a wee little cricket or two. But that oath he would hold sacred above any others.

Because it had been sworn on the dying light in his father's eyes…

He took a deep liberating breath, his mind suddenly extraordinary clear and at peace.

His heart remembered the pride shining in those vivid blue eyes.

Well, in this world, he might be just a tiny inconspicuous star, but he could do his best to shine as brightly as he could, to be a light for others for as long as he possibly could.

And, when his time would come, he would admire the sunset, knowing it announced a new dawn. Knowing because of his belief that love could cross all borders, even transcending space and time…

After one last smile at his 'earth' star, Carson Beckett returned to the infirmary.


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7

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The silence felt no longer oppressing, but soothing.A moment of perfect peace in the usually hectic wing that served as Atlantis' infirmary.

Carson's watch told him it was past 3 o'clock.

His pounding head told him he would be in a horizontal position within the next half hour, whether he chose to or not.

But now that the decision was made, Carson didn't need his brain anymore. In fact, he preferred not to think overly much right now, and not only because of the now fierce head-ache that was starting to blur the edges of his sight.

His skilled hands worked autonomous, having gone through similar procedures countless times before, their sequences ingrained and deftly executed without the slightest hint of hesitation.

Donning a pair of surgical gloves.

His father's hands, searching blindly across the blanket for something to hold on to.

Retrieving a vial from the locked medicine cabinet.

His own, much smaller hands, trembling as they reached out to touch his father's.

Unwrapping a syringe from its sterile containment bag.

The unexpected strength in the old knotted hands as they squeezed back reassuringly.

Easing the syringe through the vial's seal.

The warmth in his father's touch mirrored by the immeasurable love in those ancient eyes.

Gently withdrawing the plunger.

The pride in his trembling voice as he had attempted to speak his last words to his son.

Putting the vial down on the bed side table.

I know you'll grow up to be a fine lad. I'll be there watching you, son. Always in your heart.

Squirting a small amount of fluid out of the syringe.

The feeling his failing voice refused to articulate, burning in those blazing blue eyes.

Checking for any remaining air bubbles.

His own choked up words as he reflected aloud his father's sentiment.

Finding the port of the IV line.

I love you too, da', and I'll ne'er forget…

Inserting the syringe.

The last brilliant spark of life fleeing into the night.


AN: This was the original end (you can stop reading if you want), but aren't you wondering what's up with Rodney, if Carson will 'be in a horizontal position within the next half hour', what people's reactions will be? I was, so the story will continue for just a wee bit longer...