After his friends left, Carson typed up a doctor's report on the entire incident with Debbie. He printed it and tucked it into a file before locking his house. He'd documented his decision to stay behind rather than riding along in the ambulance as his desire to be available should any of the other kids at that party show the same symptoms. In reality, he simply wanted to stay away from a situation that reminded him of one of his greatest failures.

Thinking about that now brought a weary sigh. And a headache. He'd done his best to put on a smile for the others that morning, and the effort had drained him. Sheppard and Ronon knew and understood, and Carson hoped he hadn't disrupted their sleep too badly. It seemed that being away from Atlantis kept the nightmares at bay except for certain triggers. He'd seen a psychologist before and knew what he would say: it might take years for the dreams to fade, if they faded at all. Carson had left Atlantis for several reasons, the primary of which was his need for peace.

At the doctor's office, Carson filed the report and spent some time walking through the facility. It wasn't nearly as grand as Atlantis's infirmary. In fact, it was a step in the opposite direction from what he'd had on Atlantis. Outdated equipment, tiny rooms, virtually no staff, and no emergency or triage area. Last night's events came back to mind, and Carson realized how isolated Esperanza really was. He needed to be able to treat life-threatening illnesses should an ambulance be delayed or unavailable.

A jingle of the bell over the door brought him out of his office. A tall, thin man in his fifties stood in the doorway, his haggard face surveying the newly-decorated waiting area. "Love what you've done with the place, Doc."

"Thank you, Mr. Engleside." Carson moved around the receptionist's desk to shake the rancher's hand.

Engleside held on. "Thank you, Doc." He released Carson's hand and scrubbed at his face. "If you hadn't been there. . . ."

Carson's personal demons fled at the sight of this man's exhaustion. He put a hand on Engleside's shoulder. "It was my pleasure, Mr. Engleside."

"Call me 'Doug.'" Engleside let out an exhausted breath. "I just got back and wanted to let you know Debbie's doing well. They're keeping her sedated until the worst of the withdrawals are over."

"Did they identify the substance?" Carson asked, not thinking about the withdrawal method doctors were using.

"Meth." Doug's announcement made Carson shake his head. "I knew she was using something, but I could never figure it out. And it wasn't all the time—or it didn't seem to be all the time." After another long pause, he sighed. "If you hadn't been there. . . ." he said again.

Carson understood the repetitive words. Doug had nearly lost his daughter, and he needed to bleed off the stress. "Well, I had some help. Two excellent doctors I worked with in the past were visiting, as well as their head nurse. I couldnae ha'e done it without them."

Doug nodded. "You can bet we're not going to let this happen again."

"I know." Carson smiled at the man. "If you need anything, Mr. Engleside, just let me know."

Doug nodded. "I'm glad you're in Esperanza, Doc. Real glad." He turned to leave and stopped at the door. "You know, when I mentioned that Dr. Carson Beckett had treated Debbie at the scene, the docs at UNM got real excited."

"UNM?" Carson had an idea of what the initials stood for, but he wanted to be sure.

"University of New Mexico. Debbie's in the hospital there." Doug shrugged. "You must be a real important doctor for them to recognize your name."

Carson smiled. "Aye, well, I've just done wha' any other doctor in my position would ha'e done."

Doug narrowed his eyes, knowing he'd get nothing else from Carson. The rancher was one of two men who kept the town afloat with business and money, and he knew as much about Carson Beckett as Howell had when Howell hired him. "Thanks again, Doc."

"You're welcome."

Carson watched the man walk away as silence enveloped the office. He let out a deep breath and locked up for the day. He was exhausted and ready for some rest. Unfortunately, he didn't think his nightmares would let off for a while yet. Not with Debbie's situation so fresh in his mind.

Not wanting to be alone, Carson slipped into Porter's Tea and Coffee house. He was careful about how many sweets he consumed, especially with everyone believing him to be an insulin-dependent diabetic, but he needed company this afternoon. The coffee house was quiet, with school not having let out just yet and most of the town's residents occupied with whatever kept them going on a Tuesday afternoon. Margaret came from the office, and she smiled when she recognized him.

"Carson." Her eyes narrowed. "I was just about to take a break for some coffee. Care to join me?"

"Aye." Carson smiled easily, appreciative of her refusal to call him on the real reason he was there. "Thank you, Margaret."

She waved a hand at him while she fixed two cups of coffee and pulled two cheese Danishes from the case next to the cash register. Carson took the two coffees and chose a table next to the window. Wrapping his fingers around the warm mug, he took a sip and smiled. Margaret had managed to get his preferred mix just right, and he realized she knew it when she gave him a smug grin. For a moment, he wondered where he knew her from because she looked so familiar. He had just about placed her when she dropped into the chair across from him. "That's a thoughtful expression, Carson."

"Aye." He accepted the Danish and broke off a small piece. "You remind me of someone, but I cannae place ye."

Margaret blinked. "What happened?" At his questioning glance, she blew out a frustrated breath. "I can tell you're not sleeping, Carson, and your accent has never been that thick."

Delaying the inevitable by slowly eating the piece of Danish, Carson stared into his coffee. Perhaps he needed to talk about what kept him awake at night. Unfortunately, he couldn't do that without breaking the classification around the Stargate Program and his own existence. "Last night, with Debbie, reminded me of some things I've gone through." He met her eyes. "I'll be fine, Margaret. It just stirred up the memories."

She nodded once. "If you're ever able to talk about it, come find me."

"I'll do that." He sat back in his chair, stretching his legs out and enjoying the quiet. Their friendship wasn't one of words, though they happily argued with one another if the need arose. Right then, Carson needed a friend, and Margaret was happy to fill that role. As he'd told her, he would be fine. Eventually.

oOo

Katie stood completely still in the pharmacy as she listened to Carson lock the doctor's office and leave for the day. She'd been behind the desk, stocking shelves, when she heard voices next door. Creeping over to listen, she'd received news she never wanted to hear.

Debbie Engleside had overdosed at a party last night. Katie clenched her fist to keep from throwing the bottle of vitamins she held. With no one in the doctor's office—Carson had discovered that she and Jorge celebrated Halloween and gave them the day off—she didn't have to be as careful about sounds. But she needed to do something.

She knew where Debbie had gotten the drugs. When she'd filled that particular prescription, she'd warned the person about it. Normally, she could have cared less about her "patients," but this time was different. This time, it wasn't a normal client, and there was a party planned for that night. Now, with Doug Engleside's beloved angel in the hospital, he'd start tearing the town apart until he found Katie.

Unless. . . .

Moving behind the counter, Katie glanced at the front window. No one passed by right now, but she couldn't afford to allow anyone to see her. Not if she wanted to get out of this. As she worked, her mind turned over all of the different options. She had several ways she could go, but one was definitely more attractive than the others. She considered this one as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves.

In the month that she'd worked in the clinic, Carson had not looked at her once. Not the way she wanted to be looked at, that is. She'd dressed in such a way to attract his attention to her better assets while keeping it tame. He seemed to appreciate that, but she couldn't figure out what made him tick. He didn't look at any woman in the way a man did when he wanted her. It infuriated Katie, who was accustomed to having any man in town. And she'd had more than a few of them. But she'd kept herself separate for a time. Carson Beckett promised to be incredible when she finally did snare him, and she wanted to make certain she could enjoy every day with him.

Now, she had a way to pull him to her side. Finding the bottles she searched for, she dumped three pills into her hand and ensured that none of the bottles looked disturbed. She couldn't afford to have her plan wrecked now because of simple carelessness. Depositing the pills into a small baggie, she slid them into her pocket and pulled off her gloves. As she left through the back door, she smiled. Perhaps she could handle letting loose a bit tonight, especially since it would get her where she needed to go.

Happy with herself, Katie drove directly to the hardware store and sauntered inside, knowing she wouldn't have to beg for this rendezvous to occur. Truth be told, it was too easy, and she left the Engleside ranch that night with a satisfied smile on her face that had nothing to do with the man she'd just left sleeping off their night of passion.

oOo

"You son of a. . . ." The rest of Doug Engleside's epithet was lost as his fist connected with Carson's jaw. Carson tumbled backwards and fell to the ground, his forehead bouncing off of a hall table he'd placed in the small corridor that connected the clinic's reception area to the patient room and his office. He tasted blood as he was yanked to his feet by his lab coat and slammed into the wall, resulting in another sharp jolt of pain, this time to his back. Doug was completely enraged, his tired blue eyes wide and bloodshot. He jerked Carson toward him. "Just what do you think you're doing in this town?"

"Wha'?" Carson blinked, trying to clear his head from the initial blow.

"You know what!" Engleside hissed. "I found pills in my daughter's room! Wanna tell me how those got there?"

Before Carson could answer, Jorge came running from the back of the clinic. "Hey!" He grabbed Engleside's arms and pried them off of Carson. Pushing the angry rancher away from the doctor, he got into the man's face. "What gives you the right to come in here like this?"

"I'll tell you what gives me the right!" Engleside rushed for Carson again, only to be stopped by Jorge's superior bulk. The rancher was wiry, and it took the Hispanic nurse physically restraining him to keep him from striking Carson again.

Blinking back the headache, Carson realized he had a split lip, would develop a black eye, and that a cut on his eyebrow bled quite badly. "Mr. Engleside, I assure you that I have no idea wha' you're talkin' about."

"Oh, yeah?" Engleside pulled a small baggie from his pocket. "Tell me about these!"

Carson took the baggie, and Jorge, realizing that Engleside had calmed enough to not resort to physical violence, released the man. He stayed close, however, physically putting himself between Carson and the rancher. Carson was reminded of Ronon in that moment and wondered if he could give Jorge a raise. Letting out a deep sigh, he looked at the three pills in the baggie and frowned. Small white pills with "OV" printed on one side stared up at him. Carson turned them over, seeing the number "12" printed on the opposite side, and headed for the pharmacy with a muttered curse. Engleside and Jorge followed him, and he ignored them. He was too focused on the matter at hand.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, he found the Desoxyn on his shelf, realizing that one of the bottles didn't have dust on it like the rest did. A quick records check showed that Howell had last filled a prescription for Desoxyn two years ago. The medication had neared its expiration date already, and Carson dumped the pills onto a work bench to count them. "Dear Lord!"

Jorge stepped forward before Engleside could rush Carson again. "What is it, Doc?"

"There are two dozen pills missin'." Carson swept the medication back into the bottle and closed it. He walked around the corner and met Engleside's eyes. "Mr. Engleside, I assure you that I have no idea what is goin' on here, but I promise you I'll find out."

Apparently it was the right thing to say. "You didn't give my girl those pills?"

"No." Carson glanced at Jorge. "In fact, no one has come in here for a Desoxyn prescription for two years. Normally, that medication comes in five milligram pills, so Debbie would have had to take a lot of them for what happened to her. I need to do a complete inventory to know what's missin' and how much of it is missin'. Until then, I cannae tell ye much."

"She nearly died, Doc."

"Aye, I know." Carson put a hand on the man's shoulders. "Let me look into this, Mr. Engleside."

The rancher nodded, not happy at all but placated for the moment. "I'm sorry for. . . ." He motioned to Carson's face.

"Och, don't worry yourself." He smiled as much as possible with a split lip. "I'll see if I can get the lab reports from your daughter's blood work as well, an' I'll be able to compare the Desoxyn with what was in her bloodstream. Hopefully, we'll get to the bottom o' this quickly."

"Yeah." Engleside glanced at Jorge before he headed for the door. Jorge followed him out and then turned the "Open" sign to the opposite side.

"Doc?"

Carson stood at the counter and stared. Someone had stolen medication from his pharmacy, and a girl had nearly died because of it. That stung. "I'll be fine."

"No, you won't." Jorge put a hand on his arm, and Carson found himself sitting in his own patient room while the nurse applied butterfly stitches to the cut above his eye and gave him an ice pack. Once Jorge had finished, Carson released him for the day, closed the practice, and slipped back into the pharmacy. Still wearing the bloodstained lab coat, he sank into a chair behind the counter. Pinching the bridge of his nose didn't help his headache, and he knew only finding the perpetrator would make all of this okay.

oOo

"What happened to you?" Margaret stared at Carson's face as he opened to door to find her on his front porch that evening. He'd spent the remainder of the afternoon in the pharmacy and had barely arrived after confirming that he was short an entire bottle of Desoxyn. He couldn't know what else was missing, but he knew that a lot of those medications could be dangerous if mixed. He'd closed the pharmacy indefinitely, creating some inconvenience for Esperanza's residents, and he'd decided that he would personally fill all prescriptions until he figured out what happened. Then, he'd come home, ready for an ice pack on his head and some sleep. He likely had a mild concussion, but it had been long enough since the injury that he wasn't concerned about being alone. Now, though, he let Margaret into his house and closed the door softly behind her.

"Mr. Engleside came to the clinic today."

Her eyes widened as she set another of her casseroles on his stove. "Doug did this?"

"Aye." Carson tried to offer her a smile and stopped when it pulled painfully at his swollen lip. "He had every right, Margaret."

She folded her arms over her chest. "No, he didn't. Besides, I've never known Doug to go around punching people for the sake of it." The hesitation in her eyes gave her away, though, and he decided not to call her on it.

Carson walked over to her, taking her by the shoulders. "I never thought he was. But you have ta understand he found pills from my pharmacy in his daughter's things."

She blinked. "Debbie Engleside is the girl who overdosed?" She reached for a chair that wasn't there, and Carson moved quickly to provide one from the dining table. "I didn't think she. . . .She's always been such a good girl. Reminds me of my Ali at that age."

Carson sat in his own dining chair and propped his elbows on his knees. "Margaret, I know this is a difficult question to answer, but you know this town better than I do. Is there anyone who would break into the pharmacy?"

She took a moment to honestly consider his question. "No." She frowned. "Well, I don't know the younger crowd the way I used to, but I can't think of anyone who would want to break into your pharmacy. Unless they did it as a stunt."

"There's medication missing, Margaret." He shook his head. "An entire bottle of Desoxyn, which is basically methamphamine hydrochloride used for treating ADHD. An' I have no idea what else might be missing because I havnae had the chance to do a complete inventory."

She covered her face with her hands. "Oh, Carson, I am so sorry."

"Don't be, Mum." He stood and reached for a plate. "We'll figure it out."

"I know you will." She eyed him. "What did you just call me?"

Carson stared at her and blinked. The Freudian slip had caught him off guard as well, but he couldn't take it back now. "Margaret, I'm sorry. It's just. . . .I lost my mum a couple years back." He blinked, not surprised at how emotional he felt given the day's events. "You've taken that place recently, an' I. . . .I dinnae mean to presume."

She moved over to him and hugged him. "Stop talking, Carson." She laughed softly when he returned the hug. "I'm pleased to fill that role any day. Now," she said as she patted his back, "why don't you sit down with an ice pack while I get dinner ready?"

Feeling a sense of peace creep into him, Carson returned to the table and wearily propped his head on his hand. Margaret fixed their plates and the two shared the dinner meal in private. He still faced long days of counting medications and cross-referencing inventory lists. But he could relax tonight knowing that he had at least one friend close by who was willing to adopt him into her family.

And that made all the difference.

~TBC