A/N:
In order to show you my gratitude for submitting those very kind and encouraging reviews, I hand out a whole bunch of whiskey-flavoured Carson pops to each of you!
Mille grazie to my ever-supporting beta TCB 0.5.

IV

John awoke early that morning. During the night he had lain tossing and turning for hours, trying in vain to really comprehend what had happened. Yet finally exhaustion had won over restlessness and he had fallen into a dreamless slumber, at last allowing his body the much-needed sleep his troubled mind had denied him for too long. After their visit in the infirmary, Rodney and he had instinctively known where to go. There had never been a call for a meeting but nevertheless, many people had gathered in the conference room, patiently waiting for news. So the room had been literally packed when the two of them had arrived. Sheppard smiled as he recalled the utter relief in their faces. For the first time in months John felt at peace. At peace with himself. But most of all with fate in general. Today life was good!

At breakfast Rodney hardly said a word, even failing to complain about the 'dishwater they call coffee'. For John it felt strange to have the ever-grating scientist gnawing at a single slice of bread and not say anything. Sure, Sheppard hadn't been surprised by this behaviour when they all had thought Carson was dead, but he would have bet a fortune to find McKay his usual self again this morning. Something was obviously still worrying his friend, and the fact that Rodney refused to talk about it only increased his own disquiet. Knowing better than trying to prompt Rodney to tell what was up, they finished their breakfast at the ungodly hour of pre-sunrise in an atypical silence that weighed heavily on both of them.

Before starting their working day, they wanted to pay Beckett a short visit and share some good-natured banter with the witty doc. As the colonel and the physicist entered the quiet infirmary, the lights were low. The nurses of the nightshift were chatting with their colleagues of the dayshift over a cup of coffee, which the first needed to keep their tired eyes open and the latter to actually wake up. Mildly amused at the scene that was mirrored to a T in the doctors' room, John and Rodney exchanged a glance. Their cunning plan to sneak in unnoticed at change of shift seemed to work fine; no one paid any attention to the trespassers. Unhindered they ventured further through the deserted infirmary to the intensive care unit, each step bolder than the previous one.

All of a sudden they heard someone walk up behind them. For one split second John considered hiding behind a curtain but it was already too late; they were caught!

"What do you gentlemen think you are doing here?" a stern voice asked.

With a look of pure innocence on his face, Rodney whirled around, hand darting to his chest. "Whoa! Dr Cole, how can you startle us like that? It's your fault if I die of a heart attack one of these days." The last bit was offered in the all too familiar annoyed tone of voice, vibrating with accusation.

The colonel marvelled at his friend's ability to immediately switch into his usual inflammatory mode and even manage to keep his face straight, while he himself couldn't muster anything beyond a sheepish smile with a good portion of his most seductive boyish charm thrown in for good measure. Unfortunately the doctor didn't seem very impressed with either strategy. Her weary brown eyes displayed only the merest hint of amusement, and she was clearly in no mood to let them proceed.

With a no-nonsense look she ignored McKay's comment and continued, "You can't see Dr Beckett now. But I need to talk to you."

xXxXx

Usually Dr Cole referred to her boss by first name, yet somehow in this situation it was much easier for her to call him Dr Beckett, thus creating some distance between her as a doctor and their critically wounded CMO as a patient. She needed this distance now, needed to disconnect her feelings in order to be able to do her job.

The two men were standing across the desk, fixing her sight and tracking down her every movement, deep furrows of worry engraved in their faces. Of course they had instantly known that her statement was not a good sign. To Sheppard's growing anxiety, McKay had murmured something about 'ill-boding' and 'being cut off when radioing in earlier' all along the way to Carson's office. This must have been the reason for Rodney's peculiar behaviour. But why hadn't he told him that he feared something was wrong? Why the hell hadn't he told him? Instead John had walked in here with high hopes, which were about to be shattered once again.

The physician in front of them collected herself and took a deep breath, a simple habit both men had learned to dread. She let out a sigh, involuntarily reliving last night's events as she began…

Dashing out of the room, she crossed the short distance between Carson's office and his infirmary bed. Beckett's breaths came laboured and irregular but he managed a smile when she arrived.

"Don' ye worry, lass… 'M fine."

"Let me be the judge of that", she muttered concerned. Countless times she had overheard him say just that to a patient. She had always guessed that in this matter Carson was no better than his favourite bed occupants he kept complaining about. But what he was playing down so casually was really serious, and he knew it. With practised routine Samantha Cole checked the readings on the monitors, noticing the alarmingly low oxygen saturation and the increased fever while inwardly scolding the night nurse for paying so little attention to a critical patient. They would have a serious talk about that later.

"Betsy, where the hell are you?!" If ever she had tried to keep her voice level, she had failed.

Said nurse rounded the corner and rushed towards the fuming doctor. Betsy looked apprehensive and guilt-ridden because she knew she had neglected to inform Dr Cole that she needed to go to the bathroom and it was a grave mistake to leave a critical patient without surveillance. But she had been gone for only a few minutes and Dr Beckett had been doing relatively okay. Why did something have to happen now of all moments?

When Betsy approached, Carson smiled sympathetically at her, fully aware that a decent dressing down was in store for her. After all, he himself had insisted she could go, being perfectly capable of looking after himself, especially since Samantha was in immediate vicinity.

"No' her faul'… Said 'twas okay", the CMO whispered between two gasps. Breathing was becoming more and more difficult for him but he valiantly stood his ground.

"You", and Dr Cole emphasized the first word dramatically, "are the patient this time, not the doctor!" Her stern expression and voice softened considerably before she carried on, "Seems like we'll have to intubate soon, I'm afraid." She laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

Slowly Carson shook his head, "No' yet, Sam... I ca'… can manage… a few more… minutes." His ragged breaths clearly telling otherwise.

"You know that's not true. Your oxygen saturation has fallen abysmally", the young physician answered quietly and stroke his cheek in a calming gesture. "I can understand that you are less than thrilled but unlike most patients we're treating here, you know that it will actually help, not harm you."

Although his heart rate was already accelerated, the beeping of the monitor beside him increased some more, mercilessly betraying his best efforts to appear brave. As a matter of fact, he was outright terrified at the thought of getting hooked up to the ventilator. Being a doctor, he rationally knew all too well that needing life support wasn't such a big deal, but now on the receiving end, as a doctor and a patient, he felt fear overwhelm him. Still, it was not only that strong sensation of helplessness that freaked him out. Considering his burns, he had expected his deteriorating condition would lead to this, but had desperately hoped it wouldn't come so soon. Already being dependent on assisted breathing at this time during the healing process, didn't bode well at all for his chances of survival. Carson knew he could hardly postpone the intubation any much longer, but simply letting it happen and handing over his precious life to an unfeeling machine felt like giving up, submitting to his injuries. He didn't want to surrender. Not now. Never. If it had been possible to keep breathing by pure willpower, he would have forced the air into his straining lungs. But with every passing minute he could sense his life slip through his fingers and his consciousness drift away.

A gentle hand stroke through his sweaty hair while a soft voice next to him ordered the intubation kit and the appropriate medications. Desperately, Carson glanced up at Samantha's compassionate face. He wondered whether he ever looked so much at a loss when it came to treating patients who were dear to him. Once his condition became life threatening, Dr Cole didn't need Beckett's consent to proceed, he knew that. And as much as he knew that she would do it without his approval, he appreciated her waiting for his agreement. She was a good doctor, he was proud to have her on the team.

"Don'… wan' te... give up…", Beckett panted breathlessly. "No' so… easily."

"You're not giving up, Carson." Cole's pitiful voice touched him deeply. Rationally the CMO understood she was right but it was so much harder to bring his emotions beyond the feeling of utter despair.

"Do you allow us to intubate you?" Her soothing calmness and consoling touch comforted him.

After a few seconds Carson nodded slowly. "B't please… don' make me… sleep t'll… kingdom come…" A lonely tear escaped his eye, rolling down his reddened face.

"I'll let you wake up in the morning. Promise."

A powerful wave of drowsiness engulfed Beckett as the Versed was administered into his IV port, washing his consciousness away within seconds. He tried to cling to awareness as long as he could. Eyes drooping he only just felt the pancuronium, the paralysing second injection take effect. From far away he more felt than heard a faint voice say, "Sleep well."

He didn't feel anymore his body go limp or his breathing stop altogether, nor did he feel tender hands tilting his head back and smoothly easing the tube down his trachea before the rhythmical thud of the ventilator commenced. There was only darkness and he let go…

To be continued…