Personal Log
Dr. Carson Beckett, MD
93 days after my re-awakening

'Carson, you've hardly touched your food,' Mum said quietly. She's been growing more and more concerned about me for some time now, and I think she noticed I was brooding a bit more than usual today. Admittedly, I'd hardly said a word most of the morning while we were out shopping, and even when we sat down at the table in the kitchen for lunch, I remained distracted by my thoughts. The ticking from the clock on the wall was the only sound while she waited patiently for a response, but I had no real desire to talk about what was on my mind.

'If something is bothering you, you know I'm always willing to listen.' She always seemed to have a maddening knack for being able to tell when something was wrong.

'I know, Mum,' I replied finally, but I was reluctant to say anything else.

She decided to press me for more this time, probably thinking that it would do me some good to finally talk about what was bothering me. 'It's not good for you to be sitting around moping all day.'

'I'm not moping,' I insisted. Why couldn't she just leave it well enough alone? 'In fact, I've been talking to Doctor Lowenstein at the clinic about possibly leasing an office to start doing some consultancy work in a month or two.'

'Then you're not going back to the research station in Antarctica?' She almost seemed surprised.

I paused to think and let out a heavy sigh. Conflicting emotions were beginning to sway my resolve. 'No. I'm not going back.'

'You don't sound very sure of that.'

Her insistence was starting to put me on the defensive. 'Isn't that what you want, for me to stay?'

She gave me one of those motherly, exasperated looks and shook her head. 'Far be it for me to tell you what to do with your life, son, because you've always had your own mind about that. I just asked what was bothering you.'

Guilt stabbed at me for becoming so easily irritated. 'I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult.'

Mum patted my hand affectionately. 'It's alright. Not many people can live through what you did without being at least a wee bit changed by it.'

It took a lot of effort to keep my emotions in check. 'I didn't want to be changed by it. Everything was perfectly fine the way it was before. I was perfectly fine before.'

'But now…?'

She looked at me with that motherly inquisitiveness I used to value and appreciate so much, but now I couldn't endure it. I felt as though she was looking right through me into my soul, not entirely unlike how Michael used to so casually probe my mind and thoughts whenever it had suited him. I had built up barriers in my mind in order to survive and withstand such invasive, destructive attacks on my sanity, and I hated that those barriers now stood between me and my mother. I felt my carefully placed mask of indifference begin to crumble.

'This may not be what you want to hear, Carson,' she began softly, but not unkindly, 'but you've been keeping all of us at such a distance that it's like I hardly know who you are any more. I know it's classified, and you don't have to tell me everything to be at peace with yourself. But whether you wanted it to happen or not, that experience did change you.'

'He hurt me so much, Mum.' My eyes burned and I looked away, unable to bear her gaze. 'I don't even have the words to describe how terrible it was. You don't deserve to be burdened with that. And you're right. I have changed. I'm not the man who left this house four years ago.'

'You always worked so hard to look after everyone else, but when you're the one who needs help, who's going to look after you if not your family?' She held my hand tightly as if afraid she might lose me again. 'That's why you came here. Carson, the only certainty in this universe is that everything can and always does change, including people. But no matter what happens to you out there, no matter how much you change, you will always be my son and I will always love you.'

It felt like a floodgate had opened up in me, releasing a tidal wave of pent-up emotion that I had no hope of stopping. All of the rage and grief and pain poured out of me until I was so tired and emotionally spent that Mum practically carried me to the guest room and insisted I rest for a while. With hardly even the energy to protest, I fell into a deep, restful sleep the moment my head hit the pillow. In fact, it was the most restful sleep I'd had in a very, very long time.