Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I've borrowed a very personal bit of real life for this chapter. When my late mother died, the sympathy card which my uncle sent in her memory carried the truly beautiful poem The Rose Beyond The Wall, by AL Frink.

Rather like Carson, I've never forgotten its comfort. In fact, I still have the card, twenty years later. I just thought it so appropriate for this chapter, and the story in general. I hope you agree.

Chapter Twenty Two

Sub Rosa

He seemed slightly more at ease now, she noted, still watching him in discreet, silently grateful relief. There was even a trace of that charming smile again, as he moved closer to the patio's bordering wall.

Gardening clearly wasn't his strongest suit, but at least he was enjoying the calm beauty around him – a tiny blush of colour in the wall's trellis now causing Carson's smile to slowly, and wistfully, widen.

"Near a shady wall, a rose once grew…" he said at last, that same wistful sadness reflected in his voice. "It budded and blossomed in God's free light, watered and fed by the morning dew…"

"…shedding its sweetness, day and night…" Eleanor finished just as softly, smiling up at him – meeting startled eyes with motherly reassurance in her own, before gently linking her arm through his.

"The Rose Beyond The Wall… such a beautiful verse, Carson… it's one of my favourites…"

"Aye, it's – it's one of mine too…" Carson replied softly, stammering out a still nervous explanation. "It was… um… on a condolence card we had, my – my mother an' me, when my father died, an'… well, I've – I've never forgotten it, Mrs Morrison… never forgotten the – the comfort it gave me…"

Knowing, from her own experiences of such painful loss, when to remain silent, Eleanor just nodded – granting him several more moments of healing thought and reflection, before she quietly spoke again.

"I hope it can bring you that comfort now, Carson… the same strength it's always brought me…"

She'd meant every word in this latest effort to reassure him, hoping that she'd made him understand – the awkward strain that lingered in his voice telling her that she still hadn't quite fully managed it.

"I'm a doctor, Mrs Morrison, so – so I'm used to death, I've become used to seein' people die, but…"

Mortified by what he'd just said, Carson then fell silent, visibly struggling to regain his composure – the softness of his voice, its telltale tremors, betraying the burden which weighed so heavily upon him.

"I've – I've never had anyone die because o' me, an'… I – I jus' don't know how I can live with it…"

She'd been expecting this moment, of course – and now quietly welcomed its most vital breakthrough.

"I do…" she said at last, reaching up to cradle his cheek in her hand, thumbing away streaks of tears – meeting the eyes that were so clouded by pain and self doubt with crystal clear belief within her own.

"I can't begin to imagine what happened to you both during that mission, Carson… but I do know this. For you to have survived it, to know you still have your life to live, has given Jamie's death meaning. If he'd been murdered by a sniper, or blown up by a suicide bomber, or been killed by friendly fire… well, for him to have died so needlessly, Carson, so senselessly, would have been just unbearable..."

Sensing from his expression that he'd already heard all this before, Eleanor then smiled up at him.

"I'm sure that you've been told all this already, Carson, by Colonel Sheppard and the rest of your friends... but found it hard to believe...? To accept...?"

Brought up never to lie, especially to a lady, Carson smiled back at her, nodding in shaky concession – swallowing hard, against a further rush of emotion, at the gentle dignity of Eleanor's next question.

"Hearing those words now, Carson, from me... do you believe them now...? Accept them now...?"

It had only been the gentlest of stresses on a single word – but its effect was quite extraordinary.

The doubts and demons which had clouded them now lifted from those strikingly emotive eyes – chased away by the strength of his courage as Carson nodded once more, in blessed conviction.

Just to make sure, though, irrefutably sure, Eleanor then gently tightened her grip around his arm – sealing an already very special bond between them through further, equally inspiring words.

"Shall claim of death cause us to grieve, and make our courage faint and fall…?"

As she'd hoped, he was already smiling back at her, the blue eyes bright with new courage. New Purpose. New Life.

Gently hugging her back, Carson then reached out to brush his fingers against tiny red petals – the soft burr of his accent bringing appropriate charm to the quiet words which matched its beauty.

"Nay, let us faith and hope receive… for the rose still grows beyond the wall…"