The next week passed quietly as Carson settled into life in Esperanza. He went to work each day after a stop at the coffee house for free coffee. And he settled on choosing paint colors until after Howell had made his final departure. The elderly doctor was a bit set in his ways, and Carson refused to upset him.
He met Jorge, the male nurse Howell had employed for the last six months. Carson spent some time with the other man and found him to be impeccably trained and completely capable. He'd become accustomed to working with both male and female nurses on Atlantis, and Jorge's broad size was actually in direct contrast to his apparently gentle nature. The Hispanic man was newly married with a baby, but Carson identified with him.
In addition to meeting Jorge, Carson also smiled every time he saw Margaret. His landlady had kept her word, making sure he had a good breakfast to start his day. That "good breakfast" usually consisted of whatever Danish or pastry was fresh from the oven in the coffee house, but Carson couldn't complain. He'd discovered that she'd stocked his fridge with a few things the day he'd moved into the house, and it took a week for him to get through those groceries.
Howell's departure into retirement was accompanied with huge fanfare from the community. The entire town showed up to that central square for a party that consisted of too much beer, not enough decent food, and a variety of emotions. Carson sat back and watched each of the town's citizens say goodbye to their beloved doctor, suddenly realizing what he'd asked his friends on Atlantis to do. This time, however, it was different. He was still alive. He didn't want to think about how they'd reacted when the other Carson had died. Given the emotionally charged atmosphere of the picnic, it wasn't a pleasant thought.
A woman in her late twenties, maybe early thirties, sidled up to Carson as he watched Margaret and Howell laugh over the potato salad. He eyed her, seeing the overly-processed red hair, heavy makeup, and low-cut blouse. She held a can of beer, and Carson waited for her to finally speak as he grew more and more awkward with her presence. It had nothing to do with anything she'd done, but he wasn't accustomed to women just standing closely to him without saying a word.
Finally she glanced at him and smiled, a pretty smile in spite of her attempt to cover it with makeup. "You're the new doc?"
"Aye." Carson gave her a polite smile and held out his hand. "Carson Beckett."
"Katie Summers." She grinned, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you." She turned back to Howell. "I can't believe he's leaving."
"Oh, I can." Carson shook his head. "There are times when all doctors wish to just leave everything behind."
Katie looked him up and down. "I can't imagine that about you."
Carson chuckled. "Well, I'll let ye in on a secret." He leaned slightly closer to her, allowing his voice to drop conspiratorially. "I'm here for the same reason he's leavin'."
Katie chuckled and didn't say anything else. Not that Carson needed her to. He'd seen the predatory glint in her eye and suddenly had the urge to run. Howell rescued him by drawing him into a conversation with Doug Engleside, one of the ranch owners who helped keep the town afloat. Carson spent the next hour telling the older man the sanitized version of his history and apparently charming the socks off of the man's wife. By the time he looked around, Katie had disappeared.
The day after the farewell picnic, Carson headed to the grocery store. Once inside, he stopped and stared. He hoped it passed for surprise at how few items there were rather than the truth. In reality, he was shocked. While in Pegasus, he'd become accustomed to either having his food delivered via the Daedalus or Apollo or trading in the market. Here, in this tiny town, he saw more variety than he'd ever enjoyed in Pegasus. As he strolled the aisles, he tried to figure out what he would really eat and what he wanted to purchase just for the sheer joy of buying it. As it was, a variety of sweets found their way into his buggy, and he made sure to thin that out before going to the register. No need to give the store clerk the idea that he overindulged, especially since the cover for his serum was that he was an insulin-dependent diabetic.
That night, he put the groceries away and stared at his home. He liked it here, in spite of the remoteness. It was calming. He'd only had one nightmare since coming, and that could be attributed to the new house. Still, he couldn't help but stop the emptiness that had plagued him for months. His life was full, he now owned his own private practice, and he'd succeeded in carving out a life for himself that was totally unrelated to the SGC. So, why did he feel so alone?
oOo
The waiting room of the doctor's office smelled of paint, and Carson felt his shoulders burn as he used a roller to apply a second coat to the walls. This building had been remodeled in recent years, creating a modern, southwestern feel in spite of the white walls. With Howell officially retired, Carson was free to change anything he wanted. He'd already traveled to Albuquerque once, returning with a vehicle laden with flower arrangements, lamps, several pictures for the walls, and other small touches. He'd received a strange look when he purchased the items, but a quick comment about a new office kept any questions away. Now, all of the items waited in a storeroom while he and Jorge took advantage of the quiet to change the feel of the entire place.
He'd just finished adding the second coat of reddish-brown paint to the wall in front of the receptionist's desk when the door opened. Carson turned, knowing he looked quite ragged at the moment. He had no doubt that his hair was dotted with red paint, and he saw various smudges on his jeans and black t-shirt-a hold-over from his time in Atlantis.
Katie stopped just inside the door. Today, she wore snug jeans, enough to draw attention but not so tight as to be inappropriate, a ruffled blouse, and much lighter makeup than the day at the picnic. Her frizzed hair was drawn up into a bun at the crown of her head. She blinked as she looked around and nodded. "I like it."
Carson smiled at that. "Good." He set the paint roller into the tray and pulled the rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. "Can I help ye?"
She didn't look at him, choosing to carefully walk around the receptionist's desk and absorb the changes a simple paint color had made. "I was coming for work."
Carson blinked. "I'm sorry. Work?"
"Yeah." She turned and faced him. "I worked once a week in the pharmacy for Doc Howell. He'd talked about making me his receptionist, but he sold the practice to you instead. I just figured. . . ." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I should have mentioned this before."
"No, no." Carson held up a hand to stop her words. "It's quite alright, love. I'm still findin' my place here, and I should have asked about the pharmacy."
Katie glanced at the door connecting the office with the pharmacy. "How have things been over there?"
"Come ta think of it, quite busy." Carson motioned to where Jorge appeared from the back of the office, speckled with blue paint. "Jorge's been helpin', though we're drawin' a few strange glances bein' paint-covered."
Katie smirked. "I'm sure people here are used to it." She shrugged. "I don't know where you're from, Doc, but we're all working class around here." She turned before he could correct her assumption that he'd been talking down to her. "How about I go next door and cover there, leaving you boys to get this place ready for business?"
In the background, Jorge rolled his eyes at Carson, but Carson nodded with a smile. "Alright." He stopped her with a raised hand. "Just. . . .Would ye bring me a resume tomorrow? It's not that I don't trust ye, but I'd like ta know your qualifications. Especially if you're wantin' the job of receptionist."
Katie accepted that with a nod. "I'll drop it off." She waved with a flutter of her fingers and disappeared. Carson let out a soft breath of relief when she disappeared.
Jorge, who caught the expression on his face, leaned forward and whispered, "She's a handful, Doc."
"Aye, I've noticed." Carson turned around. "Right. Now let's finish this room."
oOo
Katie stepped into the familiar surroundings of the pharmacy and stowed her purse behind the counter. It was quiet now, with a note instructing people to ask next door for assistance. She removed it, smiling at Dr. Beckett's business-like scrawl, and pulled her book from her bag. She opened it and adopted a pose of indifference as she pretended to read.
Carson Beckett was. . . .She grinned at the page. She'd never known a Scot before, but he definitely made her want to consider visiting Scotland. That accent was just divine, and his eyes sparkled at her even when he didn't smile. There was an air of mystery about him, especially since he kept himself so closed from everyone else. And, when he smiled, it brought out a dimple in his face that sent her pulse skyrocketing. She'd never felt that way about any man before and wondered if she'd be able to continue working here. If she did, she suspected she'd fall for the good doctor.
Which might not be a bad thing, she reminded herself. She'd dressed this way on purpose, and she'd seen the way he'd given her an appreciative once-over when she arrived. If she managed to convince him that she was the right woman for him, it would make her work that much easier.
Setting aside the book, Katie stood and began straightening items on the shelves. Not that there was much to straighten. The place was neater than it had been in a long time, a testament to a doctor being in town who wasn't worn out by years of service.
The door opened, and her first customer of the day walked through. Moving behind the counter, Katie took the woman's money, passed over the medications, and slipped the bills into her purse. She needed to be careful now, with Carson here. At least, just until she convinced him to join her.
oOo
Jorge stalked back to the office with more blue paint. When given the opportunity to use blue or reddish-brown paint, he'd chosen the masculine color. Not that the red color looked horrible. Dr. Beckett had chosen his colors well, and he seemed perfectly content with handling the much larger reception area of the doctor's office. He'd chosen a tamer shade of brown, still better than the blasé color that Howell had preferred, for the patient room and hallways.
No, his problem wasn't with painting the office. His problem was with Katie Summers. That woman could be serious problems for the doc. Of course, Beckett didn't know this, and Jorge wondered just how much to tell the man. Not that he could tell Beckett much of anything without creating issues with his superiors. Katie Summers had been a persistent irritation to him for the last six months, and he didn't want to create even more problems. Beckett was just beginning to settle into town.
Adding more blue paint to his roller, Jorge decided to wait and see how things went. He'd give Beckett a month or two to find his place in this town. Then, if things went the way he suspected they would, he'd arrange a meeting. Beckett could be a great help to him and his work.
Content with his decision, Jorge finished painting the doctor's office.
oOo
That evening, Carson collapsed into his easy chair with an exhausted sigh. Tea was brewing on the counter, and he needed to cook something to eat. But, right now, he was too exhausted to move.
The reception area of the medical office was freshly painted and looked fantastic. The reddish-brown put him in mind of Atlantis without becoming maudlin or sentimental. He had several flower arrangements and some lamps and pictures to hang tomorrow, as well as the hallway and patient room to paint. But he no longer cringed when he walked into a blank white space. It was welcoming now, not institutional.
A knock on the front door pulled his head from the back of the easy chair. Pushing to his feet, Carson trudged over and opened it. Margaret Porter stood there, a covered casserole in hand as she surveyed the rest of the neighborhood. The summer sun still had not set, and children played down the way. Carson smiled and let her into his home, not surprised when she walked directly into the kitchen. It was only the second time since he'd moved in that she'd come, but he knew she needed someone to mother since her only daughter lived out of state.
She eyed the teapot. "Please tell me you intended to eat something other than just tea."
"Of course." Carson smiled at the woman. "I just hadn't had a chance ta do much."
She gave him a pointed glance. "Carson, I realize you're your own man, but you need to take care of yourself."
He joined her in the kitchen and took her by her shoulders. "Margaret, I promise you," he said sincerely, "that I'm takin' care o' myself. I just hadn't decided what I felt like cookin' tonight."
She sighed. "I'm sorry."
"What is it?"
"I got a call from my daughter." Margaret shook her head. "She was supposed to come home for Halloween, but she's not going to be able to make it until Thanksgiving."
Carson's heart went out to the woman, and he pulled her into his arms for a hug. In spite of his short time here, he loved Margaret as much as his own mum. She patted his back as he released her. "Thanks, Carson."
"Don't mention it." He reached for plates and silverware as she served the cornbread casserole. They shared the meal in quiet companionship, and then he warmed the tea on the counter for their dessert.
As she settled into the couch, Margaret eyed him. "Have you started seeing anyone?"
Carson choked on his tea. "What?"
She grinned at him. "You heard me." She took a sip of the tea and shrugged. "You're a single man, alone and could use a woman around. Other than me. And I happen to know you've turned heads in town."
"I dinnae come here to 'turn heads.'" Carson couldn't believe he was having this conversation with her. "An' no. I'm not seein' anyone, an' I likely won't while I'm here."
"I could introduce you to my daughter when she comes," Margaret suggested with a hopeful tone in her voice. "She'll be here for a month provided her job doesn't pull her away."
"What does she do?"
"She's got two degrees, actually." Margaret nodded at him, again giving him a sense of deja vu. "Biology and Engineering, with a minor in Applied Sciences."
Carson blinked. He'd met people with degrees like that. They always tended to be very knowledgeable but somewhat awkward in the real world. "She sounds like an incredible young lady."
"Oh, she is." Margaret eyed him. "So. . .?"
"No." Carson rose and took her empty teacup. "Margaret, I'll be happy ta meet your daughter and get to know her. But I dinnae come here to start a relationship."
"But if anything happens?" she asked hopefully.
Carson sighed and gave her an indulgent smile. "If it happens, then it does. Other than that. . . ."
"I got it." Margaret stood. "I should let you relax." She collected up the casserole dish she'd brought over after Carson had insisted on cleaning the kitchen. "Remember to come find me if you need anything."
"I will." Carson walked her to the door and watched her drive away. Shaking his head, he absorbed the quiet of the neighborhood. The sun had started to set, turning everything an incredible red color. Summer was in full swing, and he loved the absolute peace.
A small squeak brought him out of his thoughts. He frowned and glanced around, surprised when a small kitten toddled over to his porch. Stepping outside to sit on the front stoop, he held out his hand. He remembered being quite allergic to cats, but this poor mite reminded him of himself. The kitten moved to his hand and rubbed it, closing her eyes when he gently petted her. Before he realized what he'd done, he'd picked her up and cuddled her close. She was scrawny, her ribs showing through her mangy white coat. Within seconds, she'd purred herself to sleep in his hands.
Carson blinked. The last time he'd been around a cat, he'd had watery eyes and hives within five minutes. Yet he'd handled this one for the last ten minutes, and he had yet to respond with an allergic reaction. Figuring it must have been something Michael "corrected" during the cloning process, Carson pushed to his feet.
"Let's get ye inside and fed, lass," he said softly. The kitten blinked up at him, not appearing to want to move. "Don't get used to it. I'll see if I can find your home tomorrow."
She dropped her head back into his hand and huffed, drawing a smile. Carson set her down and pulled out a can of tuna—the only thing close to cat food in the house—and poured a small bowl of milk to warm. He couldn't quite judge her age, but he knew she'd not eat as much of the tuna as she would of the milk. Once she'd satisfied her hunger and sat back to lick her paws, he took stock of his physical situation.
It felt strange to remember being allergic to cats and not have an allergic reaction. It was just another portion of his odd life as a clone. More exhausted than he'd been since coming to Esperanza, Carson found some old newspapers to spread on the floor of his bedroom and retired as the final light of the sun faded from the sky. He woke the next morning with the newspapers used and the kitten curled into a tight ball on his chest.
~TBC