The Turmoil Within II

A/N I hadn't planned on making this a chapter piece, but my muse insisted and who am I to argue? Let me know if I should keep going with the other characters, as I do have ideas, but I'm not sure...

Shades of Gray: Carson

I slowly looked up from the charts on my PC tablet as I heard the colonel's breathing drop at last to the deep, slow rhythm of sleep. Good. One bloody hill safely behind us, way too many more to go. When we had brought him to the infirmary this morning, he had been so agitated I didn't even try suggesting he lay down and rest. I had kept watch as he began to brood, instead, withdrawing into himself out on that balcony. In many ways, it was good since it was a sign that his coping mechanisms were kicking in, struggling to deal with the trauma instead of shutting down and denying it. Such emotional unrest can lead to some nasty physical side effects, though, as the mind focuses on itself and completely neglects the body.

He hadn't asked for any food even after we got back, and the water pitcher by his chair stood untouched, leading me to send Rodney and Teyla to the mainland after some foods I hoped would entice him. The Daedalus was due on a supply run any day, so I knew we didn't have any of the colonel's favorite Earth foods left. As an added bonus, it had gotten Rodney out of my hair for a few hours, since I had no intentions of letting him anywhere near John for at least today. The man was driving everyone on staff insane, sure that somehow the miracle that had restored our friend to us wouldn't last, then complaining because he was certain Sheppard was younger then when he was captured. I liked to call it Rodney's post-crisis daft mode. Though to be fair, he wasn't the only one not quite sure of how to react. All of us had been certain we'd really lost him this time, that we'd be bringing him home to be with his family as he died...

All in all, things were much better then either Kate or I had dared hope.

Thanks to a Wraith. The very creature who had served as the willing instrument of John's torture, no less. A member of the race I had finally convinced myself we had no choice but to exterminate, parasites with no humanity in them whatsoever. I had noticed the sadistic gleam in Michael's eye as he murdered not only the marines, but several of his own kind as well. For the sake of those who, maybe, didn't follow his path, I had put up a token objection to the bombing of the planet, but gladly subsided when Colonel Sheppard told me it was his decision. Which led to me being on that retrieval team, gun drawn, sure they were killers we had no choice but to kill because they couldn't be contained. We had an obligation to their potential future victims. Or so I kept telling myself, until I saw first hand the very thing I denied they had in those eyes this morning. It was a sight I wouldn't soon be forgetting, awake or asleep.

I leaned forward as my patient stirred slightly in his sleep, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, you're home, your family is here, son. Rest while you can."

The nightmares would come soon enough, ripping him from the rest his body so desperately needed, and there was nothing I could do to stop them. John had simply been through too much to escape them. We all had.

Thank goodness his scans and blood work had all come back clean so far. The man has taken such an emotional and psychological beating the last three years that he really didn't need physical damage on top of it. He had quite remarkable luck, really. Who else could have gotten himself thrown in a cell next to an honorable Wraith? I felt guilt eating at me, knowing the colonel never should have been forced to make that choice.

"I'm sorry, John. We shoulda found a way ta get to you sooner. We failed you, son, but we won't let you down now."

"Carson?" I started at the soft voice, looking over my shoulder to see the lithe shadow in the doorway resolve itself into Dr. Kate Heightmeyer.

"Aye, love. Are ya done?"

She handed two steaming cups of coffee to me, then drew a second chair over, careful not to let the legs scrape the floor, before she answered.

"Yes. I'm afraid you and I are the two most unpopular people in all of Atlantis right now."

I snorted softly at that, sipping at the coffee. "I don't bloody well care and I wager neither do you. They'll force him inta runnin' without ever realizing they're makin' things worse with their well-meaning 'help'. Ya shoulda seen the look on the lad's face when I told him how we planned to do this. Ye'd think I'd just handed him the throne of Scotland."

The blond woman winced. "He doesn't trust easily, Carson, and I can't blame him. I read the files on how they handled him after he nearly died trying to save those two men in Afghanistan. It would make a great primer for a psych class in how not to deal with a patient like John. Bunch of incompetent fools is just the beginning of what I'd like to call them. I very much doubt he's going to let me close enough to help him."

"Aye, I was afraid o' that. It'll be up to his friends ta give him the support he needs. I gather yer talk with them on how we want ta do this didn't go that smooth."

"You could say that. They want to see for themselves that he's really okay, do something to help him recover. Its their guilt talking, and I laid into them rather strongly about it. He doesn't need that right now. How is he doing?"

I shook my head, watching the subject of our discussion sleep for a long moment. "Hurtin' in too bloody many ways, but he ate a full mug o' Athosian spice soup before askin' me to help him in here. Its a small step, but its in the right direction." A grimace filled with some anger of my own. "Turns out Ronon pulled the Wraith off before the thing could quite finish. It fully restored the life it stole, but didn't manage ta heal all the bruises the damned Genii gave him. He's goin' ta be sore for a while. If I ever lay eyes on Kolya again, I intend to forget I'm a doctor."

"You'd have to wait in line."

The deep voice from the shadows had me reaching for a gun I only carry off-world, then flushing with embarrassment at the action.

"Don't worry, Doc. Reactions like that will keep you alive."

"Ronon! Bloody hell, son! You scared the li-" I cut off that expression real fast. "You're not supposed ta be in here." At least I had managed to keep my voice to a strangled whisper.

A nod of the shaggy head toward Kate. "Lady doctor asked me to come, Doc. Said you needed sleep, but Sheppard needed someone with him."

Oh. That brought me up short with a slightly perturbed look at my colleague, who just smiled. I was being handled. Out of everyone on Atlantis, Ronon was probably the best substitute to sit with John right now. No one would get past the Satedan, who was fiercely protective of his team leader, and he was very unlikely to question the colonel about what had happened. Kate would be just as protective, but John probably wouldn't react well to waking abruptly to her company.

"I promised him I'd be with him tonight." As Kate and I had been discussing, the man didn't trust easily and I certainly didn't want to break my promise to him now.

Kate instantly put a hand on my arm. "I'll get the cot from your office, Carson. You can sleep in here and Ronon can wake you if there are any problems." I nodded, receiving a pat on my arm before she quietly left. With a deep sigh, I turned to the large man.

"He'll be havin' trouble sometime tonight, I can guarantee it. The bloody nightmares won't be long in comin'."

Surprisingly, Ronon simply nodded his head, deep eyes sad. "I know. Someone close to me worked with casualties in the hospital on Sateda."

I sat for a moment, shocked. It was the first time I could remember the man ever volunteering any information about his pre-Runner life. He just leaned against the wall, clearly done talking.

Soon, I was settled into a cot, struggling to find that elusive sleep myself. The damage from the last two days would be a long time in healing for all of us, if it ever did. Too many memories, nightmares, had been dug up for all of us. For me, I knew that many of the actions I had taken over the previous months would be questioned by my colleagues both here and on Earth, but I still believed I did what I had to do. What doctor, faced with either forcing a killer to take medication that altered him, stopped the urges, or standing back and watching more innocents die would hesitate to choose the former? I knew I couldn't have, not with a clear conscience. What haunted me was the use of my work as a biological weapon by the military. Not to mention what had just happened. Over and over in my mind, I saw myself reaching for that gun. Me! A doctor! What kind of physician would have that type of instinct? What had this bloody galaxy made me into! I winced. What I had let it make me into- A doctor who no longer saw white and black, heal not harm, but all the shades of gray in between.