XV

With a faint hiss the door slid open and the man clad in a light blue bathrobe shuffled inside. He was limping slightly while he made his way across the room, an unsettling feeling in his stomach. Everything looked familiar, but something was definitely not quite right.

"Why on Earth…," he muttered irritated as it finally dawned on him what had bothered him the second he had entered his quarters: His belongings, his personal items were just slightly out of place, like someone had tried to rearrange everything ever so subtly that you didn't notice at once but felt that your things had been touched or moved, which left an extremely disquieting feeling. But as soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes went wide with realization.

"Oh," came a surprised whisper. For two whole days his friends had believed he had died in the explosion, and they had cleared his quarters to send his personal things back to Earth, along with the empty casket. Beckett immediately pushed away the disturbing thoughts of that scenario. Then, when against all odds they had found him alive, they had put every single item back, trying to remember the exact right spot. Eyes wetting, he looked up with new appreciation. He didn't even want to think about how hard this must have been for his friends, his surrogate family…

Carson sighed heavily while sitting down on the edge of his bed, then slowly lay back. His muscles tensed a little at the dull ache in his left side. He was tired. Even the ridiculously short distance from the infirmary to his quarters was enough to exhaust him profoundly. Although medically he was doing great and everyone kept assuring him that he needed time to regain his strength, Beckett was becoming impatient. It had been more than a week since he had woken from the coma, he no longer was on heavy-duty painkillers, and still he needed ten to twelve hours sleep a day. But even then, he would feel weak and spent. And all the physiotherapy didn't help one bit in that respect. It certainly helped with restoring the mobility of his limbs after so long a time of lying in bed, but he always felt utterly worn out after such a session.

Sighing once again, he lifted his hands. The sleeves of the bathrobe fell back and he curiously studied his arms. He knew it could have been worse, much worse. Most of the burns had healed nicely, there would only be few scars. His face and right arm now merely sported the faintest hint of red on them, they almost looked normal again. Even on his left side and back, where he had suffered third degree burns, his team had done a marvellous job treating the wounds and preventing scars. Given time, even those would become less prominent. Furthermore, most of them were usually covered with clothes anyway.

Eyes closing and letting his arms fall onto the bed above his head, he inhaled deeply and took in the most welcome silence of the room. A mischievous grin crossed his face as he thought of someone eventually noticing his absence. 'They all had dealt with Sheppard's antics of escaping from the infirmary often enough, they certainly could handle his. Well, he'd probably be in for a decent dressing down once they found him but he didn't care. He desperately longed for a peaceful moment to himself.'

During the past week, he hardly remembered a minute none of his friends and colleagues had been present. They had hovered around him for every meal, the time in between meals and even watched his sleep because they knew of his nightmares. He appreciated their fussing, he really did and knew they all meant well. But he just couldn't take it any longer! At first he had deeply enjoyed their reading his every wish from his eyes; yet finally, this treatment had become more and more unnerving. Enough was enough. Especially Rodney had been infuriatingly nice and kind. Yesterday, even at the risk of sounding ungrateful and hurting the man's feelings, Beckett had tried to get rid of McKay, and not too gently for that matter. It had been to no avail whatsoever; the scientist had amicably patted him on the shoulder and told him with an understanding smile that his cranky behaviour and mood swings were solely due to his troubled sleep and the traumatizing events of the last two and a half weeks. Rodney would never know just how close Carson had come to letting out one frustrated scream of unprecedented dimensions! Instead he had settled back against his pillow in defeat and endured the continued mollycoddling. Today he had fled.

Beckett flinched at the unexpected sound of the chiming doorbell. Relaxing a little, he waited for whoever was in front of the door to go away. They couldn't possibly be certain he actually was in here. Yet, shattering Carson's hopes, the doorbell chimed for the second time.

After less than ten seconds of silence, an urgent voice called, "Come on, Doc! I know you are in there!" It was Colonel Sheppard. "Open the door, before anyone sees me here", he tried to lure him.

'Busted!' A deep sigh escaped his mouth and he reluctantly willed the door open to let John enter. The colonel strolled casually inside and sat down on the bed while Beckett moved into a sitting position. Trying to read the other man's expression, he was studied curiously in return.

"So?" Carson finally broke the silence.

"So what?" John asked back.

"I take it I'm busted and ye are now my escort to the infirmary, right?" Beckett raised a hopeful eyebrow when the pilot only shrugged but didn't move. "Ye're not?"

"Well, e-ven-tua-lly." Sheppard lengthened the last word almost beyond recognition while stretching out his legs. A painful expression crossed his face and he hoped it had gone undetected by his friend.

"What's the matter, lad?" Carson immediately shifted into doctor-mode and gave him a scrutinizing look-over.

"It's nothing, doc, really", Sheppard said, putting on his hopefully most convincing smile. Before the physician was able to voice his disbelief, he continued, "Teyla and I were sparring. She thought it was about time to start my training again. I didn't want to discourage her because she – you know – is still not on the top of her game. Therefore, being a gentleman and all, I let her win."

"She kicked your ass", Carson deadpanned with a devilish grin.

John cringed, "That's a very harsh way of putting it… and not true by the way!" he added instantaneously.

"Of course, Colonel." The sardonic blaze in the Scot's blue eyes had yet to find their match.

"Anyway. What about you, doc? You okay?" John threw him a sideways glance when Beckett sank back into a lying position with an exasperated groan. "Is that a 'yes'?" the pilot teased.

"Aye."

"Really, you should have seen the fuss in the infirmary when they found you were gone. I never knew the Mexican doc – what's his name – could turn that shade of red. I don't envy you the riot act he's gonna read you." Sheppard couldn't suppress a broad smile reminiscing the scene.

"Gitano; and he's actually Columbian not Mexican," Beckett corrected, and even he wasn't able to hide a sheepish smile at the thought. "I don't know why they're making such a drama out of going for a wee walk by myself. They'll be releasing me tomorrow anyway, for Christ's sake. I'm no bloody baby! I just needed some… air."

"You don't have to tell me, Carson. I totally know what you mean. And I hope you remember that next time I'm on the run."

"No promises, Colonel."

"Alright", Sheppard got up from the bed. "You know what, doc? I'll come back in twenty minutes and then I'll find you officially." He sauntered across the room and exited the Scot's quarters without looking back, leaving one puzzled Carson Beckett staring after him.

xXxXx

"Where the bloody hell is everybody?!" Beckett's annoyed voice rang through the almost empty infirmary. Only a few nurses were running around the main ward, purposefully avoiding eye contact with their boss, who was way too grumpy for their liking. It was almost noon and Dr Gitano should have released him hours ago but the man was nowhere to be seen. Fully dressed for leaving, Carson sat back down on the side of his infirmary bed.

After another ten minutes of waiting, the irate Scot huffed with rising volume, "If you don't show up within the next minute, Manuel, I'll sign the paper myself!"

Said doctor hurried out of Beckett's office right on cue towards the impatiently waiting man. "Sorry I let you wait, Carson, but I had to finish some fixing-up."

"In my office?" came the incredulous reply.

"Yes, well… not so important. I sought you want to go and not to listen to a boring explanation." Gitano had found Carson's soft spot.

"Can I finally go then?" Beckett implored.

"Yes. And remember, se only time any of us wants to see you even near se infirmary is for your check-up every second day. Understood?" The Columbian doctor fixed a stern look at his patient.

"Fair enough, Manuel", Carson conceded. "After being in here for so long, I think I can do a few days without it. But keep in mind to call me when there's an emergency and you need help." He hopped from the bed and prepared to leave.

"Certainly not", his colleague mumbled while signing the document in the chart. Looking up he added, "There's one more sing, Carson." Beckett froze in his step, slowly facing the other doctor. "I want someone accompany you on your way. One of your friends is coming here."

Carson slumped his shoulders and shook his head in disbelief, "Ye're not serious, are ye?" To his dismay, he found no trace of amusement in the older man's face. Moments later, the door slid open and revealed Ronon's impressive figure. "You must be kidding me! Did you call for company or a warden?" Beckett hissed almost inaudibly.

"Hi, doc", the Satedan greeted amiably, "You ready?"

Not dignifying the question with an answer, Carson went past Ronon, knowing the tall warrior would be right on his heels. In fact, he had caught up with the still slightly limping physician before he had reached the infirmary door, where, stepping out into the corridor, both turned in different directions. Ronon gave a soft chuckle and even Beckett had a hard time keeping his face relatively straight.

"Where are ye going, son? My quarters are that way", he underlined his statement by pointing his thumb into the general direction of his room.

"It's lunch time, doc", the Satedan clarified, "Aren't you hungry?"

"Alright, lad, let's get you a snack from the mess hall."

While walking down the corridor, the Scot could feel Ronon's eyes resting on him. "Your leg getting better?" He asked eventually.

"Aye. Don't ye worry, son. A wee bit more PT and I'll be as right as rain."

For the rest of the way they remained quiet. Although usually not exactly of the non-communicative type himself, after his run-in with Gitano the previous day and today's resulting exercise in patience before his official release, Beckett wasn't in the mood for conversation and welcomed the silence. Thankfully, Rodney hadn't been assigned to keeping him company.

They picked up some sandwiches at the commissary, with Ronon adding two packages of crisps and chocolate chips cookies to his tray, before heading back to Carson's quarters.

By the time the two of them arrived at Beckett's door, the Scot was evidently drained from having to keep up with the Satedan's well-paced stride. He was looking forward to finding some peace and rest while possibly reading a book or just relaxing in the comfortable armchair, listening to one or the other CD. Yet, the second the door to his quarters slid open, his smile fell and his jaw dropped in utter astonishment.

A deafening chorus of "Welcome back home, Carson!" greeted him, along with roughly a dozen broadly smiling faces of his closest friends. Above his bed hung a bright yellow banner with rainbow-coloured letters spelling 'Welcome home!', and in the far corner of the room several tables laden with finger-food promised to leave none of his guests hungry. The Scot's bright, baby blue eyes blazed with joy as he took the first small step through the door. But when the bag-piper right next to the door softly started intoning 'Join this parade', Carson struggled with his tears and was not at all ashamed to admit that he failed miserably.

Once inside, the good doctor was instantly consumed by a storm of well-wishes, hugs, respectful pats on the shoulder and gifts. Being overwhelmed, the impressions blurred, leaving him in a haze where it was impossible to keep track of every single detail. He caught a glimpse of the painting Lorne had been working on last time they had met, then was distracted by Colonel Caldwell shaking his hand. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw Rodney's brow furrow as Katie planted a long kiss on Carson's cheek. Suddenly, a cheerful face swam into his vision, out of excitement babbling in Czech while almost crushing him in a heartfelt embrace before shoving into his hands a DVD of "The Chorus – Les Choristes", a movie the scientist had won from Jacque Jollet in a chess match.

After the wave of greetings had washed over him and he was allowed some air to catch his breath, Teyla, Elizabeth and John led him over to one of the tables and proudly explained that Atlantis' chef had tried to make Haggis from ingredients available in the Pegasus Galaxy, and he, Carson, was now granted the honour of opening the buffet. Not even having swallowed the first bite, he realized that the Haggis was terrible to say the least, but knowing that his friends looked at him expectantly, he wolfed it down, sporting a deceivingly flattered smile. The taste was not important, the kind gesture was!

Finally, after hours of celebrating, Beckett felt dead on his feet; in fact, he couldn't even fathom how he had been able to stay up for so long. He eased himself down into the cosy, inviting armchair, three pairs of eyes throwing him concerned looks from various places in his room as he did so. 'Just a wee bit tired', he mouthed silently. Obviously understanding, they all returned to their respective conversations, satisfied. For a moment, Carson stared pensively around the room. He was surrounded by his closest friends, and this party had touched him more deeply than he would ever be able to express. His intense blue eyes shone brighter than ever. Leaning back and fondly taking in the scenery, a new set of tears began streaming down his beaming face. At last, he reluctantly let his weary eyelids drop, drifting into a blissful sleep that, for the first time in weeks, would not be troubled by nightmares.

FIN

A/N:
This being the final chapter, I want to thank you all for bearing with me all this time! It really means the world to me. Please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you think.
TCB 0.5, my beta-reader: I can't thank you enough for all your support and encouragement I received while writing this.