A/N:
Thank you for your terrific reviews, peeps! And I'm terribly ashamed of having needed three weeks to get the new chapter up! (My workload is killing me these days.) But just to please you, it's an extremely long chapter.
TCB 0.5 was an extremely nitpicking beta this time – maybe I shouldn't have kept her up till 9 am the next morning?!

XIV

Her night shift had been calm so far and without incident. Dr Cole sat in the CMO's office and shuffled lazily through some files. The frantic stress of the past week had clearly taken its toll on Carson's colleagues and friends, and now that he was finally on the road to recovery, an immense fatigue had descended upon them. While she vainly attempted to concentrate on her paperwork, reading the same sentence over for the third time already without grasping its content, an agonizing cry shattered the dimly lit quietness beyond the office doors and instantly ripped the tiredness away. The young doctor nearly jumped out of her skin, leapt to her feet and sprinted towards the main ward, trying to discern where the scream had come from. She saw the night nurse hurrying in the direction of the ICU and followed her immediately, a knot forming in her stomach.

Within ten seconds, she joined nurse Chun So Mea at the bed of her boss, who lay there trembling, fists firmly clenched into the blanket and panting heavily. Even in the relative darkness Samantha could see his wide, teary eyes staring in terror at the ceiling. Completely bereft of a sense for reality, he was oblivious to her arrival. Neither did he register her turning on the small lamp above his head, nor her soft, inquiring voice when she couldn't find any irregularity in the readings of the monitors other than an accelerated heart rate. When Cole took a step towards the head of the bed, the nurse retreated into the background but still staying close enough to assist if she was needed.

"What's the matter, Carson?" He took no notice of her until she reached out a hesitant hand, placing it comfortingly on his shoulder. "Carson, it's Sam. What's the matter? Do you know where you are?"

At last recognizing his surroundings and calming down somewhat, Beckett slowly turned his shining blue eyes towards the concerned voice. "Thirs'y", he finally rasped, regardless of the question, "'M thirs'y."

Silently, Dr Cole took the glass of water from the night stand and watched him drink greedily through the straw. "Easy, Carson, easy!" she exclaimed, pulling the glass away. The Scot unsuccessfully tried to press his lips tightly together in order to prevent the straw from slipping out of his mouth. Longing for the wet coolness, which brought heaven-sent relief to his sore throat, he would have tumbled out of bed had the young physician not steadied him in time, pushing him back gently.

"Carson, you are impossible! You really should know better!" Samantha scolded.

Muscles tensing and cursing under his breath, Beckett swallowed twice, savouring the remainder of the liquid salvation. Of course he knew better, logically, but at the moment he yearned to satisfy his need instead of seeing reason.

Ignoring the CMO's muttered expletives, Dr Cole crossed her arms defiantly in front of her chest, waiting for him to finish. "Done?" she asked stoically after a few seconds of silence. There was no response. "Fine", she added evenly, then continued in a much softer tone of voice, "What is wrong?"

"Nuth'n'." Yet, Carson wasn't able to hold her worried glance. He turned his eyes away, a memory of the earlier terror flickering across them.

With one smooth movement, Samantha took his chin between three tender fingers and turned his face towards her again. "Come on. I'm no fool. There is something wrong with you. I can see it in your eyes, you know? Tell me what happened."

But when silence was the only response to her enquiries while her superior still avoided direct eye-contact, an unwanted sigh escaped her as resignation settled in. "Fine", she eventually said coolly, "If you don't want to talk about it, get back to sleep. You need…"

"No!" Carson interrupted horrified, the force of his exclamation surprising both patient and attending doctor.

Suddenly she understood and the earlier compassion returned to her voice, "Bad dreams?"

The man nodded almost invisibly, but he was finally able to meet her gaze.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she prodded, lightly squeezing his hand.

"No. I cannae", came the soft reply. " No' jus' yet. Sorry, lass, maybe in a bit."

"I'll give you something…", Cole began. Seeing a protest form on Carson's mouth, she quickly added, "Only a mild sedative that will help you get back to sleep and chase the nightmares away. Okay?" Already turning to the nurse to order the medication, she was satisfied to note Beckett's approval, even though she sensed his slight reluctance. A few seconds later, the nurse returned with a syringe. "Thanks, Chun", the physician murmured, then swiftly injected its contents into the IV port.

Dutifully, her patient snuggled back down into the pillow and waited for the drugs to take effect. When she reached for the switch of the night lamp, Carson caught her hand. "Woul' ye awfulle min' leavin' the light on?" he implored, already slurring the words. Pale blue eyes looked pleadingly up at her. A sympathetic smile crossed her face and she nodded. Fondly watching her boss drift off into a fitful sleep, the young woman guided his hand back to his side. "Good night."

Then, retreating from the bed, Cole turned her attention to the nurse. "Chun, you can switch off the light when you check on him in fifteen minutes", she whispered, "I don't think he'll mind."

"Heeard tha'… no' deafff…", Carson mumbled dreamily. Leaving the cubicle, the two women exchanged a sheepish look while chuckling quietly at the unexpected answer.

xXxXx

"What exactly do you think that is, Dr McKay?" Jollet's annoyed voice hollered through the infirmary, not caring that it was still early in the morning.

"Um… breakfast?" the physicist offered, staring innocently at the tray he was carrying. Rodney was truly at a loss what the unfriendly greeting was to imply. "I just thought… you know… Carson and I… um, we… could have breakfast together", he stuttered. From his bed a few feet away they could hear the Scotsman giggle with joy at the scene that unfolded in front of the half-open curtain. Of course he had already realized what his colleague was aiming at, but obviously McKay, although claiming to be the smartest man in two galaxies, had no clue.

The bulky physician propped his hands up on his hips and sported a menacing face. "And you really think this… mangeaille qualifies as breakfast?"

Rodney couldn't help but find the man's bearing rather ridiculous. Still, rubbing up Jollet the wrong way wouldn't help matters if he wanted to get past the bull-terrier-like physician. So he bit back the comment that had sprung to his mind. "What? …I mean…", with his free hand he gestured wildly across the contents of the tray. "Um… what's wrong with donuts, chocolate cake… some Jell-O, muesli bars… oh, and a banana?" To his ever-growing irritation, Carson almost lost it. "Good to know at least someone is having fun here!" The scientist shouted at his friend. "Really want to see your face when I eat it all alone!"

"Dr McKay," Jollet's voice was stern, "Dr Beckett had been in a coma for almost a week. Leaving aside the fact I would hardly consider this a healthy breakfast anyway, don't you think for a first meal we should try something, let's say easier on the stomach?!"

"Oh", finally comprehending, Rodney looked down at the food.

"I'll have the nurse bring Dr Beckett some bread. And he can have the banana but nothing of the other things. Understood?"

"Perfectly", the physicist acknowledged before strolling towards his waiting friend.

"And you are grinning like a Cheshire cat while that bull-dog of yours treats me like a first grader. Thanks for your generous help." Rodney put the tray noisily on the night stand. He was most definitely pissed at the fun that was made of him. "At least you seem to be less moody than yesterday when we left." Carson's broad smile dropped instantly and McKay knew he should have kept his mouth shut.

Quickly, the physicist struggled for an apology but Beckett cut him off. "Never mind", he appeased. "Actually, ye're right. I… Sorry."

"Forget it", McKay waved it off with a dismissive gesture. "By the way, are you sure you don't want any of this?" He pointed to his tray, lifting his eyebrows questioningly. A hint of the former smile returning to his face, Carson shook his head. "Your loss", the astrophysicist quipped.

The nurse brought a tray with juice and two slices of plain white bread. "Thank ye, Betsy, looks wonderful", the physician lied, sneaking a longing peek at Rodney's tray. The action wasn't lost on the Canadian and he smiled at the dark-haired man with a mix of sympathy and mischief as he saw Carson pick up the first slice, look at it for a second and then beginning to chew on it listlessly.

After finishing the orange juice and half of his bread, Beckett pushed the tray away, leaning back against the head rest which was set high enough to almost allow for a sitting position. "If I keep this down, would ye leave me one of the donuts?" He asked, flashing one of his infamous sheepish smiles even Rodney wasn't immune against.

Yet, McKay wasn't willing to let his friend off the hook so easily and feigned shock. "What? You are not suggesting I should ignore your attending doctor's orders, are you?"

"Traitor!" The man in the bed snapped, but still he couldn't hide his amusement.

"Well, of course we could arrange something…"

Beckett narrowed his eyes and fixed the scientist with a deadly stare, "What. Do. You. Want, Rodney?"

"Let's see", the scientist lightly tapped at his chin as if contemplating, "after you're out of here, no threats with needles or other pointy objects for at least a month…, and no complaints if I need your help with the chair."

"Like bloody hell! Completely out of the question!" Carson protested.

"Well, I guess that leaves you the banana. Sorry. But then, I hear it's much healthier than the other stuff anyway." 'Oh man, how he loved pulling Carson's leg!' Suddenly his playful smile faded when realization hit him full force just how close he had come to losing that forever.

Stopping his joyful tirade of curses directed at McKay, Beckett frowned. There was something in his friend's eyes that made his blood turn to ice water. "Rodney?" Carson tried tentatively. But there came no reaction, instead McKay stared unseeingly into the far distance. "Rodney?" This time, the physician's worried tone was accompanied with a bandaged hand laid on the other man's shoulder.

"I'm fine", McKay finally muttered, thoughts returning to the present.

"What's the matter?"

"What do you mean? It's nothing." The forced smile wouldn't have convinced anyone, much less Carson.

"Really?" Beckett pressed.

"Uh, Carson… can we… um… just not talk…?"

"Sure", the Scot swallowed hard. The suggestion ripped his soul apart but he knew he wouldn't get Rodney to speak about it anyway. So, feeling exhaustion creep into every fibre of his self, he sank into the pillow, giving McKay a scrutinizing look before allowing his eyes to droop and quietly enjoying the other man's company.

He had almost completely drifted off to sleep when Rodney cleared his throat dramatically; yet, what emanated from him was hardly above a whisper. "Carson…?"

"Mmhh…"

"Carson…, we're… we're friends, right?" The volume was reduced even further but the voice had tensed.

"'Course we are. Why d'you ask?" The reply was still mumbled but the seriousness in Rodney's tone ridded him of all sleepiness.

"I… I mean you…", he broke off, inhaled deeply, then continued, voice ever so softly, "Carson…, you died… I thought you… I… I'd hate to think you didn't know… that I cared…"

Beckett's eyes snapped open with a start. He saw the wetness in Rodney's eyes and couldn't help but scold himself for having missed that his closest friend was working himself up with guilt over what had happened. He should have known better. "Rodney…, ye daft git", he teased amiably, "of course I know… Honestly, d'you really think I'd put up with all of your more charming traits and annoyingly irrational behaviour if I didn't?!"

"But I lied to you about Katie… to get out of the fishing trip." It was more of a deep sob than a sentence.

"Aye, lad; that you did. And I was mad at you. You knew how much I was looking forward to going fishing. But if you had just been honest and told me you didn't want to go, it would have been okay, you know? We could have done something else. I love fishing, but I rather wanted to spend my day off with you, Rodney." Although he hadn't meant to, his voice had taken an accusing tone. 'This is not helping!' he reminded himself as he saw a lonely tear being roughly brushed away. 'His friend was an emotional wreck already, what had got into him to add to the man's grief?'

Carson's consoling tone returned, "Rodney, I'm not mad at you. I was simply a wee bit disappointed but I no longer am."

"You're not?" McKay asked incredulously. "But if I had just gone fishing…"

"No. Actually, I'm glad we didn't go."

Rodney looked up, searching Carson's eyes, searching for a white lie but finding only truth. "How can you be glad about it? After all that happened? You nearly died!"

"Aye. And don't believe I enjoyed being blown up and all, but how many people would have died if I hadn't been on Atlantis? How do you think I would feel if I hadn't been here to help? If I hadn't been there to operate on Teyla when she needed me? Or Watson? I would have beaten myself up if I had gone to the mainland, enjoying my day off…" His voice trailed off, dripping with emotion.

Rodney had long turned his face away, unable to look at Carson, unable to bear the sight of his own feelings being reflected in the Scot's pale blue eyes, which seemed to stare right into his soul. He was trying hard to disguise his own weeping. 'Beckett was supposed to be the caring mother hen reacting irrationally emotional on every appropriate or inappropriate situation; he on the other hand was considered the emotionally inapt, cool scientist who was above sentimental feelings.'

Seeing his friend like this tore Carson's heart in two. Even though his action could potentially get him into a lot of trouble, his right hand carefully slid the needle of the drip out of the IV port on his left arm, silently wincing. The burned skin was still very sensitive to the touch. Then he gently pushed the blanket aside and swung his legs over to the right, hissing as searing pain shot through his left leg. His whole body ached from the strain of the movement but he ignored the throbbing, focussing solely on his objective.

McKay's eyes went wide seeing his friend sitting on the edge of the bed, obviously ready to attempt something stupid like getting up. "What the hell are you doing? Are you nuts?!" he squeaked while lunging forward. Beckett welcomed the opportunity and drew Rodney closer, pulling him into a tight, consoling embrace. At first, McKay was totally taken aback, too stunned to move, but finally accepted the kind, comforting gesture and leaned in closer, realizing this was what they both needed right now. After a moment of relishing the solace, Rodney lightly patted Carson's back, "What would your doctor say to this stunt of yours?"

The physician shrugged, "Ach Rodney, I'm my own doctor; and you desperately needed a hug!"

xXxXx

When Carson awoke after a fitful nap, Rodney was gone. He would have loved to know whether the scientist was alright after their heartfelt talk but assumed his friend probably needed some time for himself now to think about everything. The Scot stretched his neglected muscles. Due to the pain meds, a heavy tiredness lingered on but otherwise he felt fine; okay, maybe not fine yet but definitely getting there. Even though he had asked his colleagues repeatedly, none of them had cared to enlighten him about how serious his condition was. 'He really needed a wee peek at that chart of his and of course the burning sites for that matter! Not, that he didn't trust his team; after all, every single one was hand-picked and highly qualified – even if Rodney all too often voiced profound doubt regarding the latter. Truthfully, he trusted them with his life – no pun intended –, he just needed to know for himself.'

Looking up as the infirmary's main doors hissed open, Beckett spotted Teyla come in, carrying a tray with two plates. The Athosian smiled at the doctor while gracefully balancing the tray towards his bed. She casually strolled over as if only by chance having lunch for two on her tray.

"Good afternoon, Dr Beckett", she greeted cordially. "I hope you are better."

"Hullo, love. I actually feel much better, thank you."

"I thought you might be hungry…"

"Are ye kiddin' me? I'm practically starving!" The single slice of plain white bread in the morning hadn't nearly been enough to fill his empty stomach, and even though an appreciated gesture, neither had been the donut. He patted the mattress on his right side, "How about joining me for lunch then?"

"I would be honoured, Carson." Teyla replied as she put the meals on the night stand and handed him a plate with soup.

Inhaling deeply and enjoying the aroma, Beckett enthused, "That smells fantastic! Just lovely! What is it?"

Teyla's grin broadened, "It is an Athosian speciality, which, if I remember correctly, quite closely resembles your chicken soup. Charin used to cook this soup whenever someone in the family fell ill. It strengthens the weakened body…"

At the mention of cooking and Charin in the same sentence, Carson's smile fell and he almost dropped his spoon, recalling all too well the taste of Teyla's poor attempts at rivalling the old woman's cuisine. A sceptical frown formed on his forehead, giving his forced, apologetic smirk an almost comical touch. He felt terrible for his ill-mannered reaction, sincerely hoping the well-meaning Athosian wouldn't be offended.

But she laughed at his peculiar face and immediately clarified, "Do not worry, Doctor; I did not prepare it myself. I brought all of this from the mess hall." Although he tried, Carson couldn't hide his relief.

xXxXx

For his still somewhat sore throat, the hot, rich soup had been heaven on Earth! – Well, Atlantis, but heaven anyway. In order to get another bowl, he wouldn't have shied away from selling his firstborn…

Closing his eyes and licking his lips with relish, savouring every trace of the formidable taste, Carson sank back against his pillows as Teyla took the plate from his lap. While she elegantly piled the empty plates, she, without even looking, sneaked a small paper-box into Beckett's hands and whispered conspiratorially, "Dr McKay sends his best."

Understanding the hint, Beckett secretly dared a glimpse at the box. He desperately suppressed a loud fit of laughter. Besides the fact that the box conveniently had 'donut-size', the word scribbled onto its top in huge red letters was enough to tip him off: BANANAS! Not willing to risk his precious treasure, Carson stifled his outburst to a light chuckle and stashed the dessert away in the night stand.

"Thanks, luv. And tell Rodney, unless he has another close encounter with the Grim Reaper, I don't see any needles or pointy objects in his near future."

Teyla looked rather puzzled, not sure what to make of the comment, but eventually replied, "I will deliver your message to Dr McKay."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes before the young Athosian got up. "Is there anything you need?"

"Well, actually", the physician began hesitantly. Carson knew that his request was putting Teyla in an uncomfortable position. He looked through the half-drawn curtain searchingly, "Is Dr Jollet or any of the nurses around?"

"Do you want me to get someone for you? Is anything wrong?" Concern was engraved in her features.

"No, no", Beckett appeased her immediately. "Don't ye worry, lass, I'm fine. I just wanted to know whether anyone was coming over here."

"No. There is no one in sight right now." She still had no idea what the Scot was aiming at.

"Good." Carson paused, then inhaled deeply. When he spoke, he forced his voice to sound as casual as possible, "Teyla, love, would you be so kind as to hand me the chart over there. And give me a wee hint please if anybody approaches."

"Why should your staff not know that you looked at your chart?" she asked innocently, handing it to him. "You are the CMO."

Already scanning the pages, he quietly explained, "I don't think they would be thrilled to see me read in my chart to begin with since I'm officially a patient or meddle in my treatment for that matter. But most importantly, I don't want them to think I'm controlling and second-guessing their work. It's not that I don't trust them or their decisions, I simply need to know what's up."

"I see", Teyla said understandingly. Carson was a healer with all his heart and soul, as much as McKay needed to know about every project his staff was working on, Beckett needed to know how every single patient was. He was too caring a person to let go, even if for a change he himself was the patient.

xXxXx

Feet comfortably propped up on the seat in front of him, Sheppard was lazily slouching on one of the infirmary chairs. It was late at night, everything was quiet and the lights were dimmed. He regarded the restlessly sleeping form in the bed. Beckett was sweating and panting, and occasionally even a stray tear escaped his eyes. Obviously, his friend was suffering from terrible nightmares. He didn't need a degree in psychiatry to guess what kind of dreams troubled his sleep.

Four times already in as many hours Carson had woken up with a start, shaking like a leaf and gasping for air. But he had never become fully alert or aware of John's presence before drifting off again at Sheppard's soothing tone and reassuring hand on his shoulder.

This time however, the Scot had broken free of his torturous dream with a hardly muffled scream. When John put his hand on Carson's arm, pale blue eyes stared questioningly straight at him.

"Colonel?" Beckett's voice was slightly trembling. "What are ye doing here, son? It's the middle of the night or is it?"

"Well, I was just passing by, you know, and thought I'd pay you a visit…"

"Very convincing, Colonel. I'd buy that in a second", Carson retorted, then more earnestly, "Now, why are you here?"

"You had a bad dream again, right?" John avoided the question, the playful tone completely gone.

"Aye, pretty bad one at that." He shuddered at the thought of the nightmare that had awoken him.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not much te talk about anyway." Carson closed his eyes and went quiet for a moment. Then he sighed deeply before he softly muttered, "It's not like I really could remember anything about… you know…"

John didn't know what to say, yet he sensed talking wasn't so important, just being there was. He finally whispered, "I can't possibly imagine what it's like, but for what it's worth, I'm here. If you want to talk about it…, and if you don't want to talk, that's also okay. Believe me, Carson, the nightmares will go away eventually. But maybe you should follow the advice you're always so fond of giving and talk to Kate Heightmeyer."

"Ah, ye're getting cheeky now, are ye?" Beckett crept deeper under his blanket and sank into the pillow, trying to get back to sleep. Several minutes passed in silence before he mumbled dreamily, "John…? Thank you, lad."

"Any time."

To be concluded…