Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: To all of you expecting wedding bells for our hero after that last chapter - sorry to disappoint you !

I must admit that was the original ending, but then I thought it didn't really fit in with the rest of the story. So these last three chapters is the re-written ending I mentioned earlier. I hope you enjoy !

Chapter Twenty One

Meetings Of Minds

Young. They were both so young, she thought, to have so much responsibility resting upon them. In her day, US Air Force colonels were older, more experienced, their hair definitely tidier, but – well, Eleanor Morrison now sadly reflected, the world had changed an awful lot since then.

For so many reasons, in so many ways, it had become a much more dangerous place in which to live. Her grandson had died protecting it, as he'd promised so proudly to do, in the service of his country.

Quite why he'd given his life to save a civilian doctor on a military mission still eluded her, though. Since he'd been gently ushered to the couch, several minutes earlier, all she'd learned from that doctor had been his name. Even then, he'd stammered it so softly, so nervously, that she'd barely been able to understand it.

She'd recognised the accent, though. That, at least, gave Eleanor something to very gently work on.

"And you're from Scotland, Dr Beckett…?" she said at last, offering him another encouraging smile. "I can tell by the accent, it's really very distinctive, isn't it…? And, I must say, very charming too…"

That won her a startled stare from two of the bluest, most expressive eyes that she'd ever seen. And, to the open relief of those around him, a trace of a smile as Carson nodded in shy agreement.

"Aye, ma'am… I – I mean, yes, I'm – I'm Scottish… Glasgow… I'm… um… I'm from Glasgow…"

He was still painfully nervous, but… well, all things considered, she could hardly blame him for that. What courage must it be taking, for him to face the family of someone who'd died protecting him…?

A great deal, she realised, watching the hand which settled, in brotherly support, onto his shoulder. John Sheppard may not have said anything, but that gesture, the concern beyond his pride for his friend, silently said it all.

She could see the strain of it, too, in the eyes which now stared, so wistfully, through the patio window to a glorious array of colour beyond. Turning to follow his line of sight, she then smiled again, with the chance of a precious breakthrough.

"You enjoy gardening, Dr Beckett…? When you have time, that is…?"

She'd never intended to make him jump so violently, but the deepening blush which followed…? Well that, and the equally charming smile which broke into it, all but made that reaction worthwhile.

"Oh, aye… no… I – I mean, um... no' so much myself, but - but my mother… aye, she – she loves her garden…"

"Petunias especially… she works wonders with them… right, Carson…?" John Sheppard chipped in, this brotherly intervention rewarded, in the best possible way, as Carson managed a shaky grin in reply

With a breakthrough now there for the taking, Eleanor Morrison now took it with graceful speed.

"Well now, Carson… maybe you'd like to share some tips to make mine grow as well as hers…?"

Too startled to notice this use of his first name, Carson then threw an uncertain glance towards John – whatever he was trying to say in response forestalled by the hand which gently nudged him to his feet.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, Carson… and I'm sure your mom would be flattered too…" John agreed – he and Eleanor trading the subtlest of conspiring nods as she led Carson gently out towards the patio.

Beyond his smile, though, lay an ongoing concern which his other host now quietly picked up on.

"This isn't easy for him, is it, Colonel…? Especially with what he's clearly been through himself…"

"No, sir… no, it isn't…" John agreed quietly, meeting that host's eyes with worry still in his own. "He's been awake most of the night, sir, trying to… well, trying to work out what to say to you…"

Met with another gently understanding nod, John then sighed while toying absently with his hat – the voice which answered so many unvoiced questions laced in both sympathy and bitter sadness.

"Carson was taken prisoner by the… um… the enemy forces that we're currently fighting against, and… well, he was tortured, sir, both for information and… well, to teach the rest of us one hell of a lesson. By the time we found him, I'm afraid your grandson, and the rest of his unit, had already been killed. Carson was the only survivor, sir, and… well, from that, and the trauma of what he went through…"

The response from a retired Marine General was equally soft, comforting him with its understanding.

"Yes, Colonel… yes, I can imagine…"

United by memories that only they could appreciate, both then returned their eyes to a sunlit patio – to watch, to hope for, to quietly encourage, the healing of another pair of tragically bonded minds.