Blood was everywhere. He stood over the young lady, staring down as she blinked frantically at him. He'd begged for her life and had received a blow to the gut, as well as one to the kidneys, for his troubles. Then, as he'd been barely recovering his breath, Michael had acted. The knife had flashed in the dim light, but it was the girl's sudden gasp of air that told him what had happened. Then, she'd bonelessly slid from Michael's grip to fall on the floor, leaving the bloody knife in Michael's hand.

"You will do the research as I have asked. Or, I will do this to another human tomorrow. And the next day. And every day you refuse." Michael's cold words were followed by the clang of the iron door that kept him in his prison.

Gasping for air, he dropped to his knees. "Oh, God!" He ripped off his jacket and pressed it into the wound on her side. But it was too little, too late. There was nothing he could do for her. He had no medications, no surgical implements. Even a knife, needle, and thread might have saved her life. But she bled out too quickly, her own bloodstained hand reaching for him. With tears in his eyes, he took her hand and forced himself to meet her gaze.

"I'm so sorry, lass," he whispered. Her hazel eyes, which had drifted closed, found his, and he maintained eye contact as she slipped from the world. When the light in her eyes was finally extinguished and her head lolled to one side, he blinked and sent a cascade of tears down his own face. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he closed her eyes.

Carson sat upright in bed, tears flowing as a shout tried to escape. He managed to stop the cry, but his stomach rebelled at the memory. Swallowing violently, he kept from bringing up what little he'd eaten the night before. A glance at the clock told him it was three in the morning, and it surprised him that he'd slept as long as he had. His head ached, and he knew he'd split open his lip during the night terrors.

Throwing off the suffocating blanket, he rushed into the washroom and ran some cold water. Splashing it over his face, he was again reminded that New Mexico wasn't Scotland. The water was cold, but not as cold as it could have been. Or as he wanted. It did little to stop the trembling in his hands and turned pink from the blood on his lip.

When he finally felt like he could stand upright without puking, Carson eyed himself in the mirror. His hair stood on end, reminding him of Sheppard, and his skin was pale. Clammy. The flashback was the worst that he could remember in a long time, and he'd hoped to avoid having that particular one for a while. Remembering how Michael had callously taken the life of an innocent young woman because Carson refused to do his dirty work had shaken the physician. While he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that he was safe in Esperanza—that Michael was irrefutably dead—he lived with the results. Debbie's situation had stirred up the memories, but Carson had managed to keep all of them at bay. Until now.

Someone had stolen drugs from his pharmacy to sell to minors. And one of those minors had nearly died from said drugs. If for no other reason, Carson felt responsible. Oh, he'd not given the girl the drugs nor had he okayed their usage by someone other than the intended patient. But he was responsible for the safety of the pharmacy.

Grabbing some Tylenol, Carson moved into the kitchen and drew a glass of water. He swallowed the medication, knowing his headache would vanish eventually. But the horrible taste of bile would take a long time to fade. Restless energy bubbled inside, and he set aside the cup and reached for his jogging shoes. His head would likely pound with each step, but he couldn't stay home much longer.

Not taking any time to stretch, Carson took off down the street at his fastest speed. He rarely ran like this, but the demons of the past that he'd put aside seemed intent on hounding him tonight. And he needed to get away, to clear his head and breathe for a bit. He reached the pharmacy before he slowed and bent forward to put his hands on his knees and breathe. The town center looked just as idyllic as it had when he'd first arrived, with pretty streetlamps lighting the way every few feet. The wrought iron lamp post nearest him provided a place to lean as he looked around. The front of the pharmacy was dark, with only a light burning in the back, a light he'd left on when he went home the previous evening. He didn't see anyone inside, but it was obvious that something had happened. At least, it was to him. He could see the slight bit of disarray and how the medication bottles had been left askew. Back on Atlantis, he never allowed that to happen.

With his breath caught again, Carson headed back home. He showered after his run, feeling his stomach calm enough that he could handle some tea and oatmeal for breakfast. Margaret would want to see him sometime that day, but he wasn't sure he could handle coffee until after he'd met with Katie and Jorge. Things were about to change at the clinic, and he didn't necessarily want to make those changes. It meant his idyllic life had been disrupted yet again, and he'd hoped to get away from all of that when he left Atlantis.

Nearly five hours after his emotional run, Carson walked into his office and set his files on his desk. He pulled on his lab coat and found Jorge organizing some supplies in a closet and preparing for the day. The nurse eyed him, and Carson nodded. He was fine, and he would recover. Satisfied, Jorge went back to his work as Carson informed him of a meeting in his office.

In the receptionist's area, Katie had already opened the clinic and settled behind the computer. Today, she wore a pencil skirt that stopped well above her knees but was still long enough to be considered appropriate, tall heels, and a tailored blouse. The top three buttons on her blouse were undone, however, and she leaned seductively back when he appeared. The smirk on her face froze, however, when she took a look at him.

"Good God, Carson! What happened?"

Carson offered her a smile. "Och, nothin' to worry yourself about." He would have added his traditional "love" to the end of that, but something warned him not to encourage her.

She stood, moving to his side as he opened a file cabinet. "Don't tell me it's nothing. You look like you met the business end of a baseball bat."

He chuckled at that. "Oh, nothin' like that happened. I just had a wee bit of an accident yesterday." And he had. Falling had been an accident, though he'd been helped along by Doug Engleside's fist.

Katie put a hand on his arm, moving close as she insisted on looking at his face. "Let me see." Her eyes, which were brown now that he was close enough to notice, moved as she looked at his injuries. He'd replaced the butterfly bandage over his eye, knowing that Jorge would have insisted if he hadn't. However, his focus right now was anywhere but on Katie's face. Given the difference in their height, he couldn't look down at her without getting an eyeful of what she kept buttoned behind the blouse. As much as the idea appealed to the purely male side of Carson, he didn't want to even cross that line with an employee, much less Katie. He liked her as a receptionist and person, but he refused to even consider starting a relationship with someone who couldn't know the full extent of his former job and life as a clone. There were precious few women running around Esperanza who had that kind of security clearance.

Finally, Katie stepped back. "You let me know if you need anything, Carson. And I don't care what time it is."

He smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." Pulling Debbie Engleside's file from the drawer, he turned. "Can I see ye an' Jorge in my office for a bit, please? An' close the clinic." With that, he left her staring after him.

Returning to his office, Carson settled behind the desk and opened the file. The walls were still bare, but the blue paint with white trim helped warm up the room considerably. He no longer felt like he'd stepped into a mental institution but like he was back home, in his father's study. Of course, his father preferred burgundy and wine colors to blue, but the furniture created a sense of nostalgia that he found difficult to shake this morning. Pulling his mind from his father, Scotland, and everything he'd lost when he discovered he was a clone, he glanced up as Katie and Jorge filed through the door. Katie took a seat directly across from Carson, crossing one leg over her knee in another of her attention-grabbing poses. For a moment, Carson wondered if he'd made a mistake in hiring her but refused to think about it right then.

Jorge, who leaned against the low bookshelf next to the door, nodded to him. "What's up, Doc?"

Carson rolled his eyes at the reference to Bugs Bunny. "Well, I've decided to close the pharmacy for the time bein'."

Katie blinked at him. "You've what?"

Carson turned to her. "Doug Engleside found Desoxyn pills from my dispensary in his daughter's room. I'm waitin' for labs from UNM to determine if the meth she took came from the missin' pills or another source. But until I can find out, I'm closin' the pharmacy."

"But what about everyone whose scripts are about to be refilled?" Katie asked.

"They'll have to go elsewhere." Carson met her eyes. "I hate puttin' the town in this position, Katie, really I do. But I cannae have someone stealin' drugs from the pharmacy an' distributin' them while I know about it. For the next bit, the pharmacy will remain under lock an' key while I do a complete inventory and find out if anything else is missing."

She stared at him, her eyes widening. For a moment, he wondered if he saw panic in them. Then, it was gone. "You're sure it was Desoxyn?"

"Aye."

Jorge stirred. "And what about Engleside? You gonna press charges?"

Carson touched his sore eyebrow. "No." He shrugged. "I'm afraid I would ha'e done the same thing if I were in his position."

Jorge accepted that with a nod, though he wasn't thrilled about it. "What about the clinic?"

"We'll be closin' early for the next bit." Carson turned back to Katie. "I need ye ta reschedule all appointments after three in the afternoon. Apologize for the inconvenience and tell them we'll work them into our normal schedule as quickly as possible. An' you both will have shortened hours for the time bein'. I'll do my best to keep it from affectin' your paychecks, but it has to be done."

The office was quiet for a time. Finally, Katie sighed. "Carson, I know you're right. But. . . ."

"I know." He nodded. "Would you reschedule those appointments, please?"

She stood and left at his quiet request, leaving him feeling like he wanted to sigh in relief. Jorge closed the door. "You're really not pressing charges."

"Och, no." Carson eyed the nurse. "Is there somethin' on your mind?"

"Yeah." Jorge settled into the chair Katie had vacated. "Just that you need to take some time."

"I am." Carson shook his head. "I'm keepin' an eye on my headache, an' I'll be fine."

"I'm not worried about the headache, Doc." Jorge pointed. "That shiner will take a while to fade, an' I'm sure you're not gonna tell everyone in town that Doug Engleside attacked you."

"You're right." Carson let out a deep breath. "I just. . . .I need ta know if anyone is stealin' medications and which ones."

Obviously realizing Carson's need to be alone for a bit, Jorge pushed to his feet and left the office with a quiet offer to go out for drinks later. Carson appreciated the offer, but he doubted he'd take the nurse up on it. It just wouldn't solve the problems. With a sigh, Carson opened the file and began to read.

oOo

"Dr. Beckett?" Katie's voice from his office door interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes?" he asked without looking up from his desk. He'd taken to going through patient files, looking for signs of drug use from them on the off chance that someone else was using Desoxyn as well.

"Mrs. Porter is here to see you," Katie said.

Carson looked up in time to see Margaret push past Katie. He stood. "Margaret!"

She held out a covered plate. "I didn't see you this morning, and I thought I'd bring something over."

Carson accepted the plate as Katie closed the door behind Margaret. He peeked under the foil, seeing the deli sandwich, potato chips, and large Danish. A glance at the door made him wonder if Katie was still outside, so he said, "Och, Margaret, ye know I need ta watch my sugars."

Margaret caught his glance and gave him a sly smile. She waited until he motioned her toward the couch he'd tucked against the wall. It crowded the small office, but he wanted it close. It reminded him of his time in Atlantis and that not all of his memories of the city were bad. Settling on one end, he uncovered the plate and picked up the sandwich. "Thank you," he said gratefully when his stomach growled.

Margaret nodded. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be eating much." She narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him. "Carson, are you okay?"

"Aye." He set down the sandwich and wiped his hands on the napkin she'd brought. "I dinnae sleep well last night, an' I'm tryin' to ignore what's comin' in two hours."

"And what's that?"

"Inventory."

She shuddered. "I may not be counting medications, but I do understand that. I do it often enough."

Carson nodded. "It's worse in a pharmacy. I'll need to inventory all of the merchandise, as well as each individual pill and ounce. It'll take me weeks."

"Weeks?"

"Aye. I'll be doin' the inventory myself, which means a few hours after work each day. Until then, the dispensary will stay closed." He shook his head. "I was plannin' to do that soon, anyway, but I wish it was under different circumstances."

Margaret didn't say anything, and Carson finished eating while enjoying her quiet company. Just last night, he'd confided that he looked at her like an adopted mother, and she filled that role nicely. Now, he realized that she just needed someone to be a mother to since her daughter was gone.

Two hours after Margaret ambled back to her coffee house, Carson sent Katie and Jorge home. Closing down the clinic, he entered the darkened pharmacy and looked around. "Well, no time like the present."

Rubbing his hands together, he located his inventory list and set to work.

oOo

For the next two and a half weeks, Carson worked until three in the afternoon at the clinic and then spent the next two to three hours in the pharmacy. He could have finished inventory sooner, but he'd not been sleeping well. Debbie Engleside returned home, and Carson had seen her once since her return. Doug Engleside was mortified at how he'd treated Carson, but the minor cuts healed. Still, seeing Debbie so depressed—though she swore she'd never do drugs again—stirred up memories he would have rather kept forgotten. Those interrupted his sleep, which often left him bleary-eyed by the time he started counting medications. Rather than making mistakes, he painstakingly double and triple checked his counts before marking it off. He started with the obvious medications: Desoxyn, oxycotin, and pain meds. What he found wasn't encouraging.

He was incredibly short on pain medications. A lot of his patients were elderly and took low doses of the pills to help with arthritis pain. But he'd gone through those patient files, seeing that they filled their prescriptions regularly but in the allotted amount of time. He'd never had to deal with this situation and how to handle it confused him. If he took it to the local sheriff, that man would start an investigation into Howell, Carson, and the medical practice. As much as he didn't want to interrupt Howell's retirement, Carson certainly did not want the sheriff looking into his past. If that happened, he'd likely wind up back at the SGC long before he wanted.

Realizing that was his exhaustion talking, Carson pinched the bridge of his nose. Thanksgiving was approaching, and Margaret had gone into "preparation mode." Everything was done with a sparkle in her eye and mention of her daughter. She wanted Carson to join them for Thanksgiving dinner, as well as Sunday dinner as well as. . . . While he understood and wasn't opposed to spending time with Margaret and her daughter, he hadn't come to Esperanza to find a woman. He hadn't come to uncover a drug problem in the town. He'd just wanted to be a doctor.

Too tired to think about it, Carson gave Jorge and Katie the day off on Thanksgiving Day and locked up the clinic early the day before. He'd already spread the word that he'd be available for those inevitable allergic reactions and medical needs. With families pouring into Esperanza, life had become hectic, and he walked back to his home in silence. The late November day had cooled considerably, and his body had acclimated to the region. It still wasn't as cold as Scotland, but he moved directly to the stove and started a pot of tea straightaway.

It was Thanksgiving, and he was alone. Normally, that thought wouldn't have even occurred to him. He'd never even celebrated the American holiday. But Margaret had worried over him obsessively for the last two weeks. Her daughter's imminent arrival only made it worse, and he shook his head. Back in Scotland, he used to humor his mum when she got this way and then escape to a local pub with one of his brothers. Here, he didn't have that support system. Besides, he didn't want to visit the local bar. It just did not appeal to him, not with all the cowboys that worked at the outlying ranches.

Rubbing his fingers over his eyes, Carson stared out the plate glass window in his living room and watched the New Mexico evening turn dark and cloudy. Maybe, with the rain, he'd sleep that night. Tired of hoping, he got up, fixed a cup of tea, and spent the remainder of the night listening to the wind.

~TBC