Taken On Trust

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Ah, cliffhangers - don't ya just love them...?

I seem to have gone a bit cliffie crazy here - and my chapter count has gone decidedly ga-ga too. The last three each run to around 9000 words, so - yes, I'm going to whittle those down a bit too. I'll still hopefully get the rest of the story posted in the next day or so, but there are just going to be a few more, shorter chapters than I mentioned on my last note.

Now, back to the last cliffie... and just when Elizabeth thought things couldn't possibly get any worse...

...evil grin...

Chapter Seven

Blood Brothers

"McKay…? McKay…! Hey, come on, Rodney, wake up…!"

Coming to with a start, Rodney McKay stared blankly up into an equally pale, equally strained face – John Sheppard's solid grip on his shoulder slowly dragging him from the horrors of his mind.

"Easy, Rodney, it's okay… easy now, you were getting pretty agitated with that nightmare there, and… well…"

Still half asleep, Rodney stared back at him, totally thrown, before a near wild hope flickered back into his eyes.

"Nightmare…?" he mumbled at last, dazedly shaking his head before blinking around a crowd of anxious, gently sympathetic faces. John. Elizabeth. Teyla. Ronon. And, of course, the young woman who'd stolen his best friend's heart

Shakily managing to return Laura Cadman's smile, Rodney then re-sought their shared CO's eyes - hope warring with embarrassment as he shrugged off the lingering horrors of his imagination.

"So you – you mean Carson isn't…? I – I mean, he – he isn't…? He – He isn't...?"

Unable himself to say that unthinkable word, John just smiled and gave his shoulder another rallying pat while nodding towards the OR's doors.

"No, he's still with us, Rodney… still in surgery, but… yes, he's still with us... still in there, fighting…"

Not quite the words he'd been praying for the last two hours to hear, but considering the alternative – well, Rodney McKay would choose still terrifying uncertainty above that alternative every time.

Accepting Elizabeth's gentle squeeze on his arm, he then breathed deeply, regaining control – so grateful for the comfort of that contact as his mind replayed the horrors of its own imagination.

It had all happened in reality, exactly as he'd just re-lived it. Everything really had happened. John Sheppard's restless pacing, Elizabeth's quiet assurances, his own idiotically babbling questions

Now they were all still sitting here, in this appropriately bleak room – just as they'd been in his dream.

His head was clearing now, enabling him to separate factual memory from roller-coastering fantasy. A brisk Scottish brogue, one which had sounded so poignantly familiar, had yelled out within the OR. Carson was bleeding out. Kate Buchanan had needed blood donors. And she'd needed them fast.

Staring down at the small square of plaster in the crook of his elbow, Rodney then winced in dismay. He'd never given blood before. After this first traumatic experience, he'd never dare to do so again.

He'd donated the obligatory bagful, sat up, anxiously asked about Carson, felt a bit faint, and… oh God, he'd never live this down

Promising himself familiar revenge for a more appropriate time, John settled instead for a gently wry smile.

"Yeah, I've got one too, Rodney, just like it, and… hey, you know what this means now, don't you…? You, and me, and Carson, we're gonna be like… you know, like blood brothers… how cool is that…?"

Rodney McKay's wide eyed face wasn't the only one to speak silent, eloquent volumes at this point. As his registered utter disbelief, Elizabeth Weir's conveyed the same degree of semi-amused despair.

The three most senior members of her command team, each capable of creating utter chaos between them, now tied still closer in bonds of brotherly mayhem. She could almost feel the migraine developing already.

Her mind was jumping the gun, of course, desperately searching for an anchor of humour and hope. The future shenanigans of her very own Terrible Trio still rested, precariously, on one pivotal point – whether or not Carson Beckett survived the surgery which now crawled into its second, terrifying hour

Right on cue, with surreal timing, the doors leading into the main surgical suite slid silently open. And in Rodney McKay's already exhausted mind, the quirks of déjà vu reached a new, terrifying level

Kate Buchanan stood, bloodied in her scrubs, framed in front of scenes of ongoing, organised chaos – just as she'd done in his mind, only minutes before, just before she'd broken that unthinkable news.

Except there was something different in her expression this time, a cautious optimism, that he almost didn't dare to believe.

"He's come through surgery…" Kate said at last, silently hating herself for what she now had to do. All the precious hope, all the wildly joyous relief she could see breaking out on the faces before her.

And she now had to bring these six colleagues, these friends, so very painfully back down to earth. For a critically injured patient to come through surgery was one thing. For him to survive the first forty eight hours after it was quite another.

As their faces fell in response to her sombre expression, Kate now did her best to keep that hope alive.

"I warn ye now, it's still touch and go, but he's holding his own, fighting with everything he has… he's fighting like hell to stay with us… and if anyone can survive what he's just been through… well, it's going to be Carson…"

Six heads around her slowly nodded, partly in exhaustion but mostly in helpless, resigned acceptance. They'd hoped and prayed for so much more, even as their hearts had known it just wasn't fated to be.

But hope remained. Carson Beckett was still alive. That fragile hope, for now, had to be enough.