Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, I'm being a bit mean here. I'm leaving you, dear reader, to wonder where this chapter might lead. The answer's revealed in the next bit, but for now - enjoy !

Chapter Eighteen

Choices

It took something pretty drastic, something really special, to leave John Sheppard lost for words. Carson Beckett had managed it with just one typically quiet, encouragingly resolute sentence.

It had to be said, though, that the stammering follow up sounded a lot less confident than the first.

"Ye – Ye don' think it's a good idea, do ye…? I – I mean, I know it's come out the blue for ye, an'… an' it's askin' an awfu' lot of ye, and Elizabeth too, and ev'ryone else here, for me to do this, but…"

"Hey, no, Carson… no, I don't think that at all… I think it's a great idea…" John cut in quickly – knowing, from wry experience, that if he didn't get a word in now, the chances were he never would.

Taking grateful advantage of the puzzled silence which followed, he then grew more dutifully serious. He understood, completely, why Carson Beckett had just made this incredible request for his help. Yet beyond that understanding, he couldn't help but uneasily question the wisdom of its timing.

His friend was still recovering from his ordeal – and that made Carson Beckett dangerously vulnerable. Now all he had to do was voice those concerns without breaking a still so very fragile confidence.

Yeah. Sure. Piece of cake.

"It's a great idea, Carson…" he said at last, pausing to carefully think through the inevitable 'but'.

"And believe me, I totally understand where you're coming from with this, why you want so much to do it... you know that I do, and I'll support you suggesting it to Elizabeth one hundred percent, but… well, it's just you've gone through a hell of a lot here, Carson, and you're still going through it, and…"

"An' ye think I'm rushing into it, without thinkin' it properly through…?" Carson finished for him – smiling slightly at the 'nail on the head' shrug he received in response before, sighing, he did the same.

"I appreciate that, John… I do, but… well, it's not as if I haven't given this decision enough thought. I've been lyin' awake since two this mornin', son, thinkin' of nothin' else but…!"

John Sheppard's smile widened as he studied the determined, if somewhat tiredly rueful, face opposite him. Yes, he could carry on arguing, of course, but from past experience he knew he'd be wasting his time.

From an ordeal that had almost killed him, Carson Beckett had made a decision – a real doozie at that. A power had yet to be discovered, John dryly reflected, that would persuade him to change his mind.

So instead he just smiled, nodding his understanding while gently voicing the next, inevitable question

"And Laura, she's… um… I mean, she's okay with this…? You've talked it over with her too…?"

"I'd bloody hope so, son… I - I mean, she is the one who made me decide I want to do this…" Carson retorted – the quiet, determined words behind that priceless smile leaving very little room for further debate.

"I – I know it's askin' a lot, John… and aye, maybe I'm expectin' too much o' myself too soon, but… I have to do this, John… that's all I can say, son, to - to justify it… this – this is jus' somethin' I have to do…"

If truth be told, John Sheppard didn't need any further convincing over this incredible decision. The smile on his face hadn't been one of humouring agreement to pacify an over-excited friend. It was one of pride. Relief. But most of all, it was now a smile of complete approval.

Two days ago, at this same table, the eyes opposite him had been clouded by doubts and uncertainties. Now they were calm and clear, set with the determination that had once been so brutally subdued. And they told him, loud and clear, that Carson Beckett was doing the right thing, for the right reasons.

He'd just taken the greatest step yet to put the horrors of the last two weeks well and truly behind him. What else was a surrogate brother to do, other than help guide him over its one remaining obstacle…?

Carson had clearly been thinking along the same lines, since his voice again became tellingly quiet

"I – I jus' hope Rodney understands why I've asked you to help me wi' this, instead of him…"

Anxious for his surprise at this admission not to be mistaken as offence, John smiled back at him.

"Yeah, Carson, I know, but… well, we both know the reason for that, don't we…?" he said gently, waiting for that determined expression to return, before giving Carson's shoulder a rallying shake. "And I'm sure once we've explained those reasons, Rodney will be right behind you too… okay…?"

The smile came back stronger this time as Carson nodded, taking this cue to rise from his seat. If truth be told, this had been the second reason for seven hours worth of staring at the ceiling. At least by tonight he'd have explained all this to Rodney and, hopefully, gained his best friend's vital support.

God knew, Carson reflected dryly as he and John left the Commissary, he was going to need it.