Personal Log
 Dr. Carson Beckett, MD
32 days since my re-awakening

Och, my aching head. I should've known better than to drink so much last night, especially when I had to make a trip to Croughton Royal Air Force base this morning for a special package. There's a contingent of U.S. military personnel there that I've been keeping in touch with about my medical status. Today is 'medication day', and my shots containing the Wraith enzyme my body needs should take the edge off of the nausea and headache, at least. Good Lord... I'm sitting here listening to myself talk about 'medication day' as if it were a good thing or something to look forward to. When did that happen? I've been gradually lowering my dosage as prescribed so I can be free of my addiction within a few months time, but still... When did I start looking forward to my weekly shots as a way to feel less miserable?

I sat there on my bed for a long time wishing I could just chuck my medical bag right out the window. And then it had to happen. My mum, who'd been a bit worried about me not feeling too well, opened the door to check on me... only to see me sitting there with a rubber tube on my arm and a syringe in my hand, ready to plunge its contents into the vein in my arm. Memories of Michael's injections and the unspeakable horrors I helped him create still tormented my conscience. I held such contempt for myself right then, I felt so ashamed and despaired, that my eyes began to sting with the threat of tears.

'What's this then?' she asked me innocently enough.

I managed a reply, but couldn't bring myself to meet her eyes. It hurt so much not to be able to tell her the truth. 'Oh, just some vitamin supplements prescribed to help speed my recovery.'

I'd expected her to leave me to perform my injection in peace, but instead she sat down on the bed next to me. 'Carson, have you given any thought to what you're going to do after you've completely recovered?'

'No, not really,' I replied. Her question had caught me off guard. 'But I suppose I'll probably go back to working for the US military. The pay is good and they're always in need of experienced doctors with clearance. I'm just not sure yet if I want to go back to the research station where I was working before.'

She put a comforting hand on my arm. 'No one would blame you for not wanting to go back.'

'It's just... I have so many friends there, people that I care about.'

'If you truly care about them, I think they will understand. They'd want you to be happy with whatever you choose to do.' She shifted uneasily, fair warning that I was about to be taken on a guilt trip. 'You might even consider staying here. I'm sure there's plenty of consultancy work here for someone with your skills, and of course it'd be nice to have you around more often.'

I sighed and pursed my lips together in an effort to hide my wavering resolve. Of all the things I'd dreaded about coming home, it was knowing that I would see first-hand how much my family had suffered when they'd been told I was dead. And now it was almost too much for me to bear.

She continued, smiling at me softly, and her eyes glistened with emotion. 'I'm so glad you're home, son. It's been so hard without you here with us. Just promise me you'll think about it.'

I pulled her into a hug and tried my hardest not to cry too. 'Alright, Mum. I'll think about it.'