Taken On Trust

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Awww, thanks so much for the reviews !! Since the story is already finished, I'm going to finish uploading it over the next couple of days, so you won't need to wait too long for the last five chapters.

Speaking of which, as I've come to edit it, I've noticed how long this chapter is...! So, in time honoured fanfic writer's tradition, I thought I could either leave it as it was, all 9654 words of it. Or I could split it up into a few more manageable bits.

Of course, that would mean a couple more chapters than the originally planned eight... a slightly longer wait for Shep's reminiscences about Carson's first flying lesson... oh, and maybe another cliffie too, thrown in for good measure.

Guess what I decided to do... ;o)

The chapter's title comes from a news article I read after Richard Hammond's recent accident. It's a medical term which doctors use for the first hour of emergency, life saving treatment. I just thought it was kinda appropriate for the story - and get well soon, Hamster !!

Chapter Six

The Golden Hour

This was what it felt like...? This was what they went through, each time he landed himself in here...? This seemingly endless hell of sitting…? Pacing…? Battling to ignore a terrified imagination…?

It was pointless, of course, but… well, if just for something to do, John Sheppard made it anyway – a silent, guilt-laden promise to his family that, from now on, he'd be a damn sight more careful

Just over an hour ago, he'd borne horrified witness to an unthinkable, brutally ironic scene – the city's chief medical officer, broken and bloodied on a gurney, being rushed into his own Infirmary.

In true, hospital drama tradition, the doors had then slammed shut on the desperate battle beyond – a white faced, shellshocked nurse assuring him that they'd 'let them know as soon as they could…'

Since then, nothing. Just the perverse combination of exhausted bodies and hyperactive minds. The inconceivable fact, one that couldn't be ignored, that Dr Carson Beckett now lay in his own OR, fighting for his life.

And to now realise that evacuating him so hurriedly to safety had contributed to an already life-threatening injury - well, that really was playing hell on John's already strained conscience. Damn it, why the hell hadn't they been more careful...?

All too aware of concerned eyes following him, John Sheppard met them with silent fury in his own - a rush of guilt-stricken words tumbling out of him before an exhausted mind could stop them.

"Damn it, Elizabeth, if – if we'd just got him here sooner… known what to look for... checked him out better, been more careful with getting him back to the Jumper... just – just realised how badly hurt he was…"

Already at his side, Elizabeth's hand on his arm was as compassionately understanding as her eyes – her voice holding the same strength that her second in command needed, so much, to draw upon.

"John, you couldn't have done any more. And you heard what Kate said about the internal injuries. If the bleeding was as slow as she suspected, there was no way you could have noticed it…"

Knowing, already, that he'd need much more than that, she then gave his shoulder another rallying squeeze.

"You got him back home, John… and you got him home alive. You could not have done any more. And you know Carson as well as I do. If anyone can come through this, it's going to be him…"

Those last assurances had clearly made their way through the walls of anger and self recrimination – enough for John Sheppard to finally manage just the slightest of smiles, a grateful nod, before he moved on to share their strength.

Watching him, as proud of him as she'd ever been, or ever would be, Elizabeth Weir just hoped they'd be enough. She just prayed they'd be the glue to bring her shellshocked flagship team back together.

As one honorary member of that team still fought for his life, so another had taken his place – Laura Cadman's pale, tear-stained face struggling to find a smile for her CO's quiet encouragement as she clung to the anchor of John Sheppard's hand.

Beside her, Teyla had slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders, while McKay… Rodney… dear God, in all the years she'd known him, she'd never seen him look so lost, so vulnerable, or as so completely broken as this.

He sat, motionless, next to Laura, his eyes fixed, wide and haunted, on the doorway beyond them – his latest tumbling flurry of questions and opinions passing, for once, without any snarking reproach.

"Damn it, what's taking them so long…? I – I mean, why aren't they telling us anything, or… or… but – but that's a good thing, right…? I mean, no news is good news, that's what they say, right…? I – I mean, all the time they're in there with him, it – it means Carson's doing okay… doesn't it…?"

As much as everyone in that room wanted to answer his stricken questions, not one of them could. All those closest to him could do was nod in humouring agreement, offer a gentle pat on his shoulder.

"Of course he's going to be okay…" Elizabeth assured him softly, holding a trembling hand in hers – the steely resolve of leadership crashing, in silent agony, against the compassion of an equally terrified friend.

"You know him so well, Rodney… in fact, you've known him longer than me, longer than any of us. So you know how strong Carson is. How brave he is. You know he's going to come through this…"

Even as she spoke them, Elizabeth knew those last few, rallying words lay beyond her control. She was a doctor, yes, but not of medicine. She couldn't guarantee the survival of a cherished friend.

That task lay with the ashen-faced figure who now stood framed in the OR's open doorway.

Still gowned and gloved, stained with her CMO's blood, Dr Kate Buchanan had finally appeared. Even in silence, her expression alone revealed more in its anguish than any number of words.

And Rodney McKay's last awareness as he slid to the floor was his own whispering, horrified voice.

"Oh – Oh no… Carson, no… dear God, please… please, no…!"