I want to say a big thanks to all those who have reviewed. I have answered every one, so if you didn't get a reply it has been down to the system which has been playing up quite a bit! I regret that I haven't been able to answer those without accounts, as FF doesn't have that facility.

Of course the story isn't finished quite yet...

THE TIES THAT BIND

CHAPTER 20

Over the years Carson had patched up the Colonel many times. He'd cared for him through sickness, broken bones, bullet wounds and even went through the agony of watching him change into and out of a bug. This time took the biscuit though, as in all his years as a physician he'd never treated anyone who had endured so much, and was still alive. However keeping him that way was becoming a daily battle, but one he refused to lose. Carson was damned if John was going to die on his watch, he wouldn't let him.

Of course he reminded himself that most of those occasions were only memories. Images placed into his brain by Michael. Ever since Sheppard had found him in Michael's lab, Carson had been aware of what he was, a clone. A mere copy of the original, the man whose recollections he'd been given, long gone. The original Carson Beckett dead and buried, at least – what was left of him.

In the time that passed since, he'd worked hard, strived if not to take his place, at least to try and honor his memory. Yet it wasn't his friends who treated him differently, it was how he felt about himself. Carson's friends and colleagues all accepted him, pleased to have his reincarnation back in their midst. Regardless of what they said though, he still felt substandard, an inferior imitation.

Every day he tried to justify his existence, and the challenge to save the desperately ill man lying pale, and deathly still on the bed, was more onerous than any he'd faced before. John Sheppard was his friend, and Carson was determined not to let him slip from his grasp.

"Any change?" Dave was standing there white as a sheet, leaning heavily against the door frame.

Carson was about to give him a flea in his ear for not resting, but he saw his anxiety, so went over and took his arm instead. "No, there isn't I'm afraid. Here, if you must disobey my orders, at least sit down." He guided Dave onto a chair next to John's bed.

"How are you feeling today?" Carson asked him, assessing him while Dave made his response. "My head hurts, no surprise there, huh?" Dave gave him a wry smile. "But the nausea's gone, and I only feel dizzy if I move too fast."

"Well concussions are like that," Carson said, "just ask your brother when he comes round. I think he holds the record for the base."

Dave dropped his eyes to the man lying on the bed. Carson saw his fear, felt it himself, but pushed it aside to deal with the business in hand, saving John's life.

"Will I be able to?" Dave voice was so quiet, Carson barely heard him. For a while he wondered what Dave was talking about, then he remembered the comment he'd made only moments before.

Carson considered his response carefully as they both looked at Sheppard. He wanted to give Dave hope, but John was a mess. His body swathed in bandages, the skin beyond, covered in livid bruises, his left leg suspend in traction. John had been in a coma ever since the lengthy surgery to repair a punctured lung and ruptured spleen. Now, he was still hooked up to a vent days later – the only thing keeping him alive.

"I hope so. The colonel has survived a lot of scrapes before."

"But none as bad as this…has he?" Dave voice cracked, and he sounded frightened.

He thought about lying, telling him that everything would be okay, except he really didn't know. Carson couldn't lie though; his mother had brought him up too well, besides it wouldn't be a kindness if the worst did happen. "Look, Dave, I know that things don't look too good at the moment." he said, "but I'm not going to give up, and neither should you."

Carson saw his eyes grow moist and his hand shaking, then Dave turned to him. "I know you want me to rest, Carson, but can't I do that here?"

Dave looked like hell, but he didn't have the heart to separate the brothers. "Tell you what, son. How about you sit beside him for a bit, talk to him maybe. Then when you feel the need to shut your eyes, take the next bed."

"Thanks, Carson. Do you think John will hear me?" Dave asked, sounding uncertain.

He patted him on the shoulder and smiled. "I don't see why not. From all the studies I've read any stimuli; talking, touching, playing them music can have an effect. Just no hard rock – please! We do have other patients here, and Rodney is already complaining enough for all of them." Carson joked, hoping to relieve the tension.

A small smile grew on Dave's face. "Yes, I visited him earlier. He really isn't a very patient, patient, is he?" He gave a small laugh, but his face soon clouded over, and he became serious again. "He is desperate to see John."

Carson nodded. "Aye, I know. And I'm going to arrange for him to visit later today if his x-rays look okay. Then, if everything goes to plan, hopefully we can get him back to his quarters the day after tomorrow – then we can all get some peace." He made a face, and Dave gave a real laugh this time.

"Anyway, I don't want you wearing yourself out – okay?" Carson gave him a pointed look as he turned to go, but Dave just nodded as he'd already started talking to John, recalling stories of their childhood.

He was tempted to stay and listen, as the military commander was such a private man, and gave so little away of his past. Then Carson realised he had no right to intrude in this one-sided conversation, so took one last glance at the two brothers, then left.

ooooOoooo

Richard rubbed the back of his neck and reached for the Tylenol hidden in his drawer. His head was pounding, but nearly two weeks after the rescue had taken place, he was still no closer to finishing his report.

Even for the Pegasus galaxy it was a bizarre case, pure science fiction, and his report was fast resembling something Isaac Asimov would come up with. His military commander had returned near death, suffering numerous horrendous injuries, but within days, some of them had inexplicably disappeared.

Much to everyone's surprise the feeding mark was gone, the bullet wound too and John Sheppard had regained his youth, if not his consciousness. The man was still in a coma, although now breathing on his own, and Richard was still hopeful he would pull through. Beckett was determined he would, but there was something the doctor wanted to discuss with him. So, pushing back his chair Richard got up, stretched out the kinks in his back, then gradually made his way to the infirmary.

On the way there, his progress was slowed by enquiries from the military contingent, scientists and even Martha who worked in the mess, all asking the same question – how was Colonel Sheppard? Richard didn't pretend to know the man as well as his team, or even those who'd worked with him for the duration. He did suspect however, that his modest Commander would be surprised at how much he was respected, even loved, by the people on the base.

Inside the infirmary, he saw the usual flurry of activity that occurred in every hospital during the middle of the day. Except within the intensive care unit, where he noticed it was quiet, apart for the low steady beep of machines, and McKay regaling an unconscious Sheppard with the gossip from the base. If Carson hadn't been expecting him, Richard would have considered listening for a while…

"Mr Woolsey, thanks for coming down. Please, come into the office." He turned to see Beckett standing there, and Richard turned away from watching the two friends and went inside.

He took the seat Beckett offered and leaned back folding his arms, curious to hear what Carson didn't feel he could discuss during that mornings briefing.

"It's about Colonel Sheppard." Carson blurted out, and Richard was pleased the doctor was getting straight to the point.

Richard nodded. "I presumed as much. How is he, Carson? Has there been any sign he's coming out of the coma?"

The Scot seemed to get a bit agitated, and Richard knew something was coming. "I'm afraid not, but I think I may know the reason why."

The doctor then turned on his laptop, and Richard could see three minuscule, pin like objects lodged in a human brain. He guessed immediately it was Sheppard.

"I'm presuming those are the sensors lodged in the Colonel's brain?" Richard asked.

"Yes, and Rodney thinks they could be responsible for his prolonged coma." Becket responded in a matter of fact tone.

"Am I to understand that Doctor McKay has been down in the lab?" Richard became irritated. "I thought he was only on light duty?"

Beckett's expression mirrored his. "Aye, he is. Although I always guessed that was going to be a lost cause." He said. "Deep down I knew nothing was going to keep him away, not while there was a chance he could help John. Anyway, in the end we reached a compromise where he sits and supervises, and Radek acts as watchdog."

Richard shook his head and smiled. "Poor Radek, Doctor McKay is quite a character isn't he?"

He'd worked with Rodney McKay for a while now, and still didn't truly understand the brilliant, but aggravating man. Richard wouldn't deny his considerable contribution to Atlantis, but what he did find surprising was how close he was to Sheppard. As far as he could tell, the two men were like chalk and cheese, complete opposites. He didn't understand the connection, but then again, there was a lot about Atlantis he'd still to learn. Including the fact many of the rules he'd once considered good friends, didn't apply here. Richard had found out soon after arriving that life in Pegasus, wasn't like Earth, and his rule book was being amended on a weekly, and sometimes daily basis.

The Scot slumped against his chair, and Richard thought he looked tired, as Carson continued speaking."As you know, the objects scatted through the Colonel's body were sensors, which Rodney now believes were implanted to monitor and record his response to certain stimuli." Beckett told him but then his expression became grave. "However the ones in his brain seem to have had a slightly different function, and Rodney thinks they acted both to deliver signals to the brain, as well as recording what he was experiencing."

He unfolded his arms and leaned forward onto the desk. "So what are you telling me, Carson?"

"Bottom line - we suspect the poor bugger lying out there was forced to relive certain events from his past." The doctor's voice was filled with rage. "And from some of the wounds we saw when he first arrived, it doesn't take a genius like Rodney to know what some of them were."

Richard couldn't blame Carson being angry. He hadn't been present in Atlantis during the missions Beckett was referring to, but he'd read the reports before arriving. For someone, especially a blood relation, to put Sheppard through those situations again, was both callus and cruel in the extreme.

"I understand what you're saying, Carson, but what I don't understand is how a memory can trigger a physical wound." He asked, his headache getting worse at the thought of how the IOA were going to receive that particular gem.

Beckett scratched his head. "No, neither do I, and Rodney suspects Forant didn't expect that reaction either, as why go to all the bother of kidnapping the Colonel, only to kill him?" The two men sat in silence for a moment before Carson continued. "Anyway…as Forant hadn't anticipated the problem, Rodney thinks the headset malfunctioned in some way, as in every other respect his other injuries are healing well."

"Do we know why it didn't cause Colonel Sheppard to go into a coma after the device was initially used? Richard asked. "As by all accounts, he was perfectly lucid, and giving orders when the rescue team arrived."

Carson shrugged. "Honestly, I don't have a clue." He said. "My best guess is the severe beating he received from that bloody clone, was one trauma too many for his body to cope with, and if there was any residual power left in those sensors – well, it may have been too much for his brain to cope with."

Richard sat for a moment and digested the information Carson had just given him. Then he asked the million dollar question. "Isn't it a bit risky doing another major surgery, so soon after the last one?"

Carson got up and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He offered one to Woolsey, but Richard declined, and the Scot resumed his chair. He looked conflicted. "Yes, it's a big risk. Apart from the serious nature of the last surgery John also had the added complication of extreme blood loss. We obviously pumped in as many units as we could before we started, but his body still hasn't had the chance to recover properly." Beckett told him, then took another sip before continuing. "Unfortunately the longer time goes by with no sign of the coma lifting, I don't have much of a choice. In any case I don't think the Colonel would want any of Forant's experiments left inside him - do you?"

Richard sighed, and rubbed his forehead. The headache was now at migraine proportions, and now he felt squeamish too. "Fine, do what you need to do. I'm curious though, if this is solely a medical matter, why did you feel you needed to consult me, before you operated?"

"Because this is brain surgery, and there is always the chance that either he could die, or sustain permanent damage." Carson told him bluntly, his concern clearly visible.

"What about that formula Forant gave you when he came to Atlantis two years ago?" Richard asked, remembering the attack Sheppard received that first brought the Ancient into his life.

"It was the first thing I thought of, but it's gone, vanished from the database." Carson told him, his face scarlet with anger. "The sneaky bastard must have removed it at the same time as he downloaded that bloody Trojan."

Now Richard understood why Carson wanted to speak to him, and he knew a decision had to be made. "What are the odds of success?"

"Better than last time, as the sensors are small and close to the surface – but there's still a significant risk." Beckett responded, and Richard could see the concern in his worried features. It matched his own.

"Well like you say, I don't think we have a choice, so do what you have to do, Carson. Besides we both know Colonel Sheppard would want them removed at some stage. Apart from anything else, they are a potential security risk." That thought had just come to him, but at Carson's confused expression, Richard explained. "If they remain, there is always the possibility Forant could try to use them to make contact with Sheppard, or even attempt to establish control over him. Provided of course he is still alive, which I believe to be the case."

Now the matter was decided, Richard wanted to go and nurse his headache in the privacy of his office. However, as he went to rise off the seat, he was stopped by Carson's hand around his wrist.

"What are you doing, Carson?" He knew it was a stupid question, as it was obvious the doctor was taking his pulse. He just wanted to know why.

"My job, Mr Woolsey" He said simply. "When you walked into my office I could tell from your pupils you have a headache, and I suspect it's a migraine." Carson released his grasp, then went over to a cabinet and retrieved a couple of tablets. "These are stronger than Tylenol, take them and go straight to bed – I don't want you back on duty until tomorrow."

"I'm sorry, Doctor, but I can't spare the time…" Richard went to protest further, but saw the firm set of Beckett's jaw and knew this wasn't a request. He was well aware that on any military base, the MO had absolute authority when it came to medical matters, so in this instance it was Beckett who had the final say. The Scot had him over a barrel. "Fine, I suppose there's no point in denying it."

"No, Mr Woolsey, there isn't. And if you don't feel any better tomorrow, I want you to come back." Carson instructed.

Richard nodded and managed to raise a small smile. "I'm sure I'll be fine by then. But I suppose I should thank you, Carson, for I now have the perfect excuse to leave my report for another day…"

ooooOoooo

TBC

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