*TRIGGER WARNING* There's a mention of suicidal intent in the final scene, just to warn anyone who might be sensitive.

Author's - Yes, again, it's taken me forever to do another chapter, sorry! if anyone is still following, then many, many thanks for sticking with it. There is more to come, if you're willing to hang on x.

Chapter 20

Standing in front of the Stargate seventy-two hours later surrounded by Marines and crates of equipment, Tamsin couldn't help a frisson of anticipation, excitement and, if she was completely honest, a dash of fear too. The pre-departure briefing everyone had been required to attend had made it clear that the Wraith once again had the upper hand in Pegasus, as if the last ten years had never happened. She would have preferred not to be filling a vacancy left by the violent death of another person, but this was an on-going crisis with no solution in sight.

She glanced at the two men waiting to her left, neither of whom she knew. Of the seven names on Jennifer's list, these were the only other doctors who had signed up to go to Atlantis. It was inevitable that they would get to know each other in the weeks to come – the SGC had more or less promised Tamsin's posting would be permanent this time. Despite the tight deadline, it hadn't taken her long to settle her Earthly affairs and pack up the rented apartment. With every physical thing she valued safely boxed in one of those crates, and a few minor changes to her will, she was ready. The city would truly be home for her now.

The inner ring of the gate began to spin, grinding as each chevron locked in place. The wormhole spewed out and settled into a puddle. Just a short trip and they would be in another galaxy. If you tried to think about the mechanics it would just screw with your head, she decided as the marines began to step through the gate, some pushing crates ahead of them. She had to bite back an inappropriate giggle as a random memory of the chocolate transmitting ray from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory popped into her mind. At least the Stargate usually spat you out the correct size. And wouldn't that be an interesting question to throw at McKay, she thought as she strode towards the event horizon.

What felt like mere seconds later, Tamsin emerged into the main space of the recently rebuilt Midway station. She stumbled slightly, disorientated by a sense of lost time and vertigo. A marine darted forward to steady her, but she waved him away.

"I'm fine, thanks," she muttered as she shook her head to clear the fuzziness. A full body shiver ran through her from head to toe, leaving her feeling as if someone had walked over her grave.

The marine glanced at her with a wry grin. "Gate-lag's a bitch," he said in a low voice. "You get used to it eventually."

Tamsin returned the smile. "I've only felt like this once before; my first time through the gate."

A mutter began to run through the assembled personnel. Tamsin turned towards the source of the muttering. To the left of the Pegasus gate, one of the station crew stood deep in conversation with the ranking officer of the group. She wasn't close enough to hear either of them, but from their tense posture, it didn't look like a simple 'have a good journey".

A few moments later, the officer faced the crowd. "Listen up, people," she called. "Midway can't establish a connection to Atlantis – their gate seems to be in use right now, so we'll just have to sit tight until we hear more."

"I thought we were supposed to be going straight through," Tamsin muttered to herself. Was it a team returning early from a mission, or a sign of something more serious?

"Looks like we're gonna be here a while. Might as well take a load off," the marine said. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Matt Hayes, by the way."

"Doctor Tamsin Lucas," she replied, shaking his hand. As she swung her rucksack off her shoulders, she caught Joe poised to ask the usual question. "Yes, the medical sort."

Matt grinned again. "Good to know." He pulled a power bar from one of his vest pockets, offering it to Tamsin. She shook her head. He shrugged and unwrapped the snack.

"So you been to Atlantis before? I hear it's something special. Ya' know I hope I don't get stuck on security my whole tour."

"Yes, I'm going back. Permanently, I hope," she replied, sitting down next to her rucksack.

Matt nodded, chewing the rest of his power bar. He scrunched up the wrapper, stowing it in a pocket. "You ever met one of these Wraith dudes?"

"Yes."

"Cool. How'd you get out of that?"

She fixed him with a cold stare. "I shot it. Several times."

Matt let out a low whistle.

"It's not something I'm proud of," Tamsin stated.

"It's just not something I'd expect. You're a doctor. Ma'am," he added.

"I used to be a military doctor – I do what's necessary, depending on the situation."

"Cool," he grinned. Tamsin could almost see him fantasising about his own first Wraith kill.

"No, it is not 'cool'. Taking a life is never 'cool'. Even if it's to protect people you care about," she snapped.

Tamsin turned sharply away from the young marine, bitter thoughts flooding into her mind. Another gung-ho kid, so convinced everything was black and white – that he was on the 'right' side.

Matt coughed self-consciously, rising to his feet. "Excuse me Ma'am, I think I'm needed." He jerked his head towards another group of marines. She watched him walk away. So what if she'd made him uncomfortable? That was the least of his worries.

After what felt like a lifetime, the Pegasus gate began dialling, the symbols lighting up.

Finally, it was happening – she was going home.

SGA

Tamsin exited the wormhole, lingering nausea still unsettling her stomach. Too much time Earth-side, she thought. The feeling quickly dissipated as she allowed herself a gaze around the gateroom. Even without an ATA gene to give her a direct link to Atlantis, Tamsin still felt a slight tickle of familiarity.

She wasn't given chance to analyse the feeling or gaze any further as a nurse came rushing up to her. "Doctors, I'm sorry, we need you right away. There's been another Wraith attack and we have injuries across the board."

Tamsin glanced back at the other two doctors. By the looks on their faces, they understood the urgency, but the shorter Chinese-looking man glanced back at his duffle bag.

"Don't worry about your things – they'll be picked up later." The nurse handed out earpieces as she spoke, then turned and jogged in the direction of the infirmary. Tamsin automatically settled her radio in place as she followed the nurse.

She could feel one of the doctors behind her, but the shorter one still seemed concerned about his bags.

"Come on! Patients to treat, now!" she barked. He flinched, but stirred into motion to catch up.

Approaching the infirmary minutes later, it was the low, desperate murmur of human voices that Tamsin noticed first, followed by a steadily increasing reek of stale sweat and grime. A quick sweep and she'd guess a hundred or so people lined the corridor outside the triage area. From the state of them and the haunted expressions, these had to be the latest group of refugees from a Wraith-ravaged planet. Two medics worked their way down the lines, offering reassurance but little else.

Tamsin followed the nurse through the open doors into a scene reminiscent of a war-zone. All beds were occupied – some people lay still, either too shocked or hurt to move, others held gauze to wounds, still more comforted the injured.

In the midst of the horde, Jennifer Keller stood calmly, directing staff and refugees to appropriate places. She glanced over her shoulder, ponytail swinging as she turned around.

"Good, you're all here. I'm sorry to throw you straight in, but we're overflowing with casualties. Wen, I need you to go assess minor injuries, Doe if you could take over triage and Tamsin I need you on standby for surgical cases."

"Understood," Tamsin acknowledged with a brief nod. No time for niceties in the middle of a situation. She wove her way through the overflowing infirmary, avoiding staff and patients as she went. A crash echoed through the area. She whirled around, ready to rush back to help. A previously upright refugee had collapsed, knocking over a tray of instruments and supplies. She spotted Wen on his knees assessing the casualty. She'd had her doubts, but it looked like he'd be okay after all.

Though she needed to focus on the job in front of her, a tiny shred of disappointment lodged in her mind at not seeing Carson among the familiar faces. A few more minutes or hours shouldn't matter, after all. As always, she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind, refusing to let herself get distracted by selfish concerns.

SGA

What felt like hours later, Tamsin traipsed out of surgery. Only now did she allow the exhaustion an outlet, sinking down against a wall. Eyes closed to block out the blurring as they crossed, she leant her head back, wrapping her arms around her knees to stop her hands shaking. Just a few moments, she told herself - a few moments of calm before returning to the fray. She took a deep breath, held it, then steadily released it, calming the adrenaline racing through her system.

Knowing she'd most likely fall asleep against the wall if she stayed still any longer, Tamsin pushed up from the floor, stretched and walked back to the main infirmary. Staff still bustled around, nurses settling patients, checking vitals, but the air of urgency had been replaced with cautious calm. The mass of people had thinned out too – only those refugees needing direct care remaining in bed.

She spotted Jennifer in the opposite corner, deep in conversation with Mr Woolsey –presumably discussing the status of the infirmary.

A short conversation with the duty nurse confirmed there would be enough cover while she caught a few hours of downtime. Sleep was the only thing she wanted, but she still had to find out which quarters she'd been assigned and collect her personal effects from the gateroom. She'd happily crash on the small couch in Jennifer's office at that moment rather than trek halfway around the city, but Jennifer herself would probably need it later.

Tamsin resigned herself to the task ahead, imagining the comfort of being horizontal as she set off towards the nearest transporter.

"Hold on!"

She turned, feeling a ridiculous grin spread across her face as Carson came hurrying along the corridor towards her. He looked weary – grey smudges under his eyes, unshaven and more lines than she remembered. Concern flared up inside her – he'd been pushing himself too hard again – and her smile faltered a little. She needn't have worried quite so much - the wide smile he broke into as he approached her lit up his face, seeming to chase away the physical signs of his fatigue. Her own exhaustion faded into the background, happiness rushing to take its place at the sight of him.

Tamsin stepped forward closing the distance between them, wrapping her arms around Carson's neck. His arms slipped around her waist, squeezing her as if he'd never let go again.

"I missed you," he whispered, words muffled by her hair.

"I missed you as well," she replied softly, trying to stop the catch in her voice. Dammit, she wouldn't tear up!

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, squeezed tightly, then eased back looking down at her with warmth in his eyes. For once she didn't look away, meeting his gaze full-on, letting him see she felt the same way even if she couldn't trust herself to say it out loud.

"How long have you been back?" he asked.

"Feels like I never left, but I guess several hours. We came through the 'gate and straight to the infirmary, I've been in surgery since. You were on their homeworld?"

"Aye, I was. For what little I could do. The place was ruined. I've just got back with the last survivors." He smiled briefly. "But let's not talk about that now. You look like you could do with a good night's sleep."

She smiled. "Ditto. And yes, I could. But I have to find my quarters and wherever my things have been taken to, which means a trip to Admin and Stores."

"You could just crash with me, if you want," he offered.

"Actually that would be great, if you don't mind?"

"I wouldn't have offered if I did. Besides, I've not seen you for weeks and it would be nice to be catch up."

"You realise I'll be asleep as soon as I lie down?" she replied with a weary half-smile.

"Me too, but there's always the morning." He leant forward, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "I need to get rid of these, but I'll see you there in a little while."

Tamsin realised he was still wearing his sidearm and TAC vest.

A final hug and Carson released her. Straight away, she missed the warmth and security of his arms. A little wave and he turned back towards the transporter, stepping in as the doors opened.

Grateful she'd changed out of scrubs before leaving the infirmary, Tamsin stepped into the transporter next. The 'walk of shame' the following morning would be much easier to explain away in civvies.

SGA

Carson emerged from the transporter and turned towards his room. It was an effort to put one foot in front of the other – near exhaustion slowing his steps to a lethargic pace. No matter how many times he got involved in the aftermath of a culling it never got any easier. The practical stuff he could do with his eyes closed - offering a smile, a reassurance, came naturally. It was the downtime that took its toll – having the space to reflect, to dwell. He knew none of this was directly his fault, but it grated that he couldn't do more for the displaced.

He spotted Tamsin leaning against the wall next to his door, arms crossed, head tipped back and eyes closed. He smiled softly to himself, comforted by the fact she'd taken him at his word. A minor flash of concern crossed his mind as he thought how that could appear to anyone else passing by. But she was there and that was the important thing.

"Tam," he called, touching her elbow.

"Hi," she replied, opening her eyes and pushing off from the wall.

"You knew I was here already," he teased.

"I heard the transporter, and I wasn't asleep."

He thought the door open and led her into the room. The door slid shut behind them and he gathered her close, revelling in the feeling of finally having her back in his arms. Her warmth, her arms wrapped around his neck, her familiar scent – for a fleeting moment he let himself believe this was it. He pushed away all thoughts of circumstances that had led to this reunion – just allowed himself to be happy.

He pulled back, settling his arms loosely around her waist, wanting to see her properly.

"What?" she asked softly, gazing up at him.

"Just… glad you're back," he replied, willing himself not to start crying. Instead, he lifted his hand to her jaw, stroking his thumb gently across her cheek, leaning down to catch her lips with his. It was everything he remembered and more – warmth, softness. He felt her relax against him, pressing closer, fingers stroking the back of his neck. It tickled a little, but he didn't mind – just one of those things she did. He found it rather soothing in fact. He found his own fingers matching her actions in her hair.

"We should turn in," she murmured.

"Aye," he agreed.

They separated long enough to undress, Tamsin borrowing a t-shirt of his that barely covered her smooth thighs. This reunion was far too chaste for his liking, but whilst the spirit might have plenty of ideas, the body was simply too exhausted to comply. He had to settle for a good long look instead.

They snuggled close under the covers, asleep in minutes.

SGA

He fought his way into consciousness, focussing on the voice that called to him, trying to ignore the dread roiling in the pit of his stomach, fear weighing down his limbs as if he were under water.

Carson, it's okay, you're safe. It's just a dream."

He opened his eyes and there she was – his Tam. No, she was back on Earth. This was one of Michael's mind tricks, had to be.

"Carson, you need to wake up."

Wake up, yes. Just a dream.

He blinked, realising he was sat up in bed, his own bed, Tam clasping his hands in her own, worry written all over her face despite the steadiness of her voice.

He swallowed. "Just a dream?" he whispered, only half believing her.

"Just a dream, I promise," She squeezed his hand, a small smile joining the concern in her eyes.

He nodded, easing his hand from her grip and stood up beside the bed. He glanced towards the window. He thought he could just see a faint glimmer at the horizon – dawn. He turned back to Tam. She watched him quietly, unmoving. He offered her a bright, brittle smile. Her expression didn't change and he knew she hadn't bought the ruse. He walked around the bed, crossing the room to the kitchen area. He took a glass from one of the cupboards, filled it from the tap and gulped down the water.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asked.

"Not really." He would tell her, he thought, when he could process it himself.

"Come back to bed."

He did as she asked, settling back on his side of the bed, reaching to take her into his arms, but she gently pushed his shoulder away, indicating he should lie on his side. She curled up behind him, chin against his shoulder, knees tucked up behind. Her free arm settled around his waist, fingers curled into his.

"Sleep, love. I won't let anything happen to you."

The memory of the dream still lingered, but it was as if it had happened to someone else. For a moment he thought he'd imagined a soft humming, then realised it was Tam softly humming as she stroked a thumb over his skin. He drifted off to sleep, trying to place the tune.

SGA

As time went on, tensions across the galaxy rose further – previously friendly worlds began to turn against each other, accusing one another of being Wraith sympathisers, or harbouring worshippers and setting the Wraith on their neighbours. Trade relations and routes became scattered and fractured as populations were displaced, crops and livestock destroyed or simply abandoned by people too afraid to return to them.

Atlantis took in as many refugees as they could, but their hospitality could only stretch so far. With so many extra bodies to accommodate, men, women, children, the old, the young and the sick, the city struggled to cope.

Despite Mr Woolsey's meticulously reasoned petitions to both the IOA and the Coalition, neither organisation was particularly keen to help. The IOA decided that whilst they were sorry to hear of the situation, the Expedition had created the problem themselves and the IOA could not support such a course of action. They would send some additional food and medical supplies, but that was it. The Coalition were equally unhelpful – though they did agree to help re-settle refugees once the attacks stopped, but who knew when that would happen.

The chaos brought some relief for Carson – between SAR missions and all hands on deck infirmary calls, he was so exhausted that he would fall asleep as soon as he reached a bed. Utter exhaustion meant he wasn't aware of any further dreams and his shifts were so busy he had little time to dwell on the reasons.

He did have time to worry about Tamsin – she and Jennifer were sharing the bulk of the surgical burden, both on call more or less permanently for the foreseeable future. Neither could or would back off from their responsibilities, but he was convinced it was only a matter of time before one of them reached breaking point.

Sitting across from Tamsin now, Carson could tell she was completely wired. To a casual observer, she would appear calm and collected, but he knew her well enough that he could see the strain buzzing under her skin. The three cups of rocket fuel she'd had so far wouldn't be helping.

"Tam, have something to eat," he said, pushing a pastry across the table towards her. He'd been glad to see her sitting at a table in the mess a short time earlier, but less glad to see only empty coffee cups.

"Thanks," she replied, not looking up from her tablet. Reflexively, she picked up the pastry and took a bite. He felt a little better – he could do nothing about her workload, but at least she'd eat if he put food in front of her.

He took a bite of his own pastry. It was hardly a sociable breakfast, he mused, but he was happy to be in the same space. Despite her nervous energy, he found her presence grounding. The couple of times he'd woken in the night when she'd stayed with him, he'd believed her when she'd said she wouldn't let anything happen to him.

He leant back slightly in his seat, letting his gaze take in the rest of the mess. It was nominally breakfast time, but many of the gathered personnel looked as though they'd barely managed a full night's sleep between them. The few people who did look better rested he recognised as scientists – chemists and one of the astronomers, if he remembered correctly. The weight of the crisis fell on Medical and the military, but some of the social sciences had pitched in to help out with refugees.

"…I don't quite know how we're going to accommodate that."

Carson glanced back to Tamsin, realising guiltily that she'd put down the tablet and was now staring at him, clearly expecting a response.

"Um," he said intelligently.

She sighed. "I said, Jennifer wants me to act as a consultant to our various visitors regarding their many and varied beliefs and practices towards healthcare."

"It is your other area of expertise…" he ventured.

"I observe practical applications in the field and assess whether they could work for others. I'm not there to hold hands and chant in a circle in the middle of a crisis.

"One of the Imkrin shamans wanted to perform a full 'passage to the afterlife' ritual, complete with animal sacrifice right there in theatre while I was trying to perform life-saving surgery?"

"I can see how that could be distracting."

"Jennifer managed to convince them their gods would get the message more easily if they used the amphitheatre-thing out on the south pier. The cooks weren't too happy about having to hand over the two turkeys for the sacrifice, either."

"That would explain the Turkey surprise for dinner the other night," he replied.

"The patient came through it, of course, but thanks for the vote of confidence there, folks." She paused. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, love," he replied, trying to hide the grin that threatened to escape. "We both know a patient's attitude can have a marked effect on their recovery."

She narrowed her eyes, mischief appearing there. I'm in trouble now, he thought.

"Of course I do. I'm sorry, I'm just so tired. I haven't worked this intensely since Pakistan. It's hard to believe I've only been back for three weeks. Not that I want to be anywhere else," she added.

"I know," he replied with a gentle smile. "But a little bird told me that Colonel Sheppard's sources have located Todd and you can be sure he knows something or is involved somewhere along the line."

Tamsin's eyebrows rose. "Am I supposed to know that?"

"No, and you didn't hear it from me," he said, tapping the side of his nose.

The buzz of conversation around them began to rise in volume and intensity. People stood up, hands snapping up to touch radios, then hurrying towards the exits.

"I shouldn't have said anything," she muttered. Tamsin eyeballed the mess, then focussed on him. "Another attack?"

"Looks like," he replied, already half out of his seat, breakfast abandoned.

"All on-duty medical personnel report to the infirmary," came the PA.

"Here we go again," Tamsin muttered as they quickly headed to the infirmary.

SGA

Carson hardly dared swallow despite the fact his throat felt like sandpaper. He glanced across the patient at Tamsin.

"Releasing clamp to three quarters," she murmured, eyes on the bank of monitors. Carson's gaze slid to the screen. He didn't need to watch Tamsin – he knew exactly what she would do, could follow the movements in his mind's eye.

For a moment, the heart rate stayed steady, then dropped, the systolic blood pressure readout also sinking like a stone. The already high tension in the room rose another notch, each person poised for action.

"Wait a moment." Almost as if she'd commanded it, the pressure reading began to rise again, levelling off at a much healthier rate. He risked a swallow, realising he'd been holding his breath as well.

"Okay, I'm going for full release." This time, he glanced down as she opened the surgical clamp holding the vein they'd just repaired. Gratifyingly, the monitors continued to hold steady.

Tamsin looked at him, relief showing in her eyes. We did it.

He grinned under his mask, hoping she'd realise. Yes we did.

The clock on the wall seemed to suggest that nearly three hours had passed since they'd wheeled this teenager into the OR, bloody and barely clinging to life. It had taken nearly an hour of CPR to revive him after a massive bleed, after that Carson had lost count whilst they clamped and stitched, trying to stabilise the boy's vital signs, giving him another chance of life.

"Doctor Beckett, you're needed in the conference room."

He looked over his shoulder at the nurse who stood just inside the door.

"Me?" he asked.

She nodded. "Colonel Sheppard's request."

Tamsin shot him a sharp glance.

"Are you sure?" he said to the nurse.

"Yes, he said you or Dr Keller, but Dr Keller is still in surgery." The nurse shrugged slightly, as if to say 'I'm just the messenger'.

"As am I," he replied, somewhat tetchily. It sounded like the mission had been successful then.

"It's okay, go." Tamsin said softly.

"All right, tell the Colonel I'll be there shortly."

The nurse nodded and slipped out of the room.

He looked back to Tamsin.

Be careful, she seemed to say.

I will.

He sighed, depositing soiled gown and gloves into a nearby waste bin as he left theatre.

Slipping through the doors of the conference room a few minutes later, Carson spotted a ring of SOs armed with stunners around the walls. The four members of Sheppard's team sat around the conference table – Teyla and Rodney looking equally uneasy, Sheppard tense despite his usual slouch, Ronon glaring across the room, his blaster lying on the polished wood in front of him. As Carson tried to slide unobtrusively into a spare seat, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. The terrifying visage of the wraith known as Todd leered around the table at the humans, hissing softly.

For a moment, Carson hesitated, instincts screaming at him to run, but logic took over reminding him that the being was heavily shackled and most likely still feeling the effects of a stunning, given the unfocussed look in his eyes. Nevertheless, it was still a shock to be in such close proximity and Carson had to force himself to sit down.

"Now that we're all here," Richard Woolsey began with a pointed glance in Carson's direction. "Colonel, if you'd begin please."

Sheppard sat up a degree in his seat as the spotlight fell on him. "As you all know, there's been a wave of wraith attacks that have caught us with our pants down, which I don't mind telling you, I'm not too happy about. Luckily, our sources have located my good friend Todd here, who can tell us all about it."

"I will tell you nothing unless you release me from these chains," Todd growled, lunging forward across the conference table. Bound as he was, the wrist cuffs brought him up short and he snarled as he landed back in the chair.

"Play nice, and maybe we'll talk about it," Sheppard said.

With a glare and another silent snarl, Todd subsided. "Very well. Once again you appear to have the upper hand, John Sheppard. It is true there have been more cullings, particularly on worlds unaffected by the Hoffan plague." He paused and stared around the table - his gaze settled on Carson for an uncomfortably long moment, then moved on. "I assure you I have no part in this."

"But you want to," Sheppard cut in.

"I would not get involved, but they have encroached into my territory and I can no longer sit by."

"I knew it – there's always an ulterior motive with you," Rodney groused from across the table.

Todd ignored him. "A new young Queen is coming to power. This is her bid for dominance."

"Great – Wraith teenage rebellion. Humans kids get wasted, trash the car. Wraith on the other hand, go on a galactic raiding spree," Sheppard said with a frown.

"A Queen must establish her standing in our hierarchy. Once she is concerned with raising the next generation, the cullings will stop."

"Let me guess you'll be the one volunteering to produce that next generation?" Sheppard asked awkwardly. To Carson, the answer seemed all too obvious. Apparently John had come to the same conclusion.

"Indeed."

"I'm both terrified and disgusted by that prospect," Rodney interjected.

Todd's head whipped around, fixing Rodney with his cat-like stare. "I thought as a scientist you would find that interesting."

"Biology isn't a science, it's too …squishy. I'll leave that to Carson," he scoffed. Then he groaned. "And now I'm remembering a school trip to the zoo when I was eight and seeing the Preying Mantises mating."

Sheppard held up a finger, an odd expression crossing his face. "Don't the females bite the heads off the males after…you know?"

Rodney nodded. "Now I'm scarred for life…" he trailed off, grimacing, a hand covering his eyes as if to block out an image too horrible to contemplate.

"Thank you for that exchange, Doctor McKay," Woolsey cut in acidly. "Dr Beckett?"

"If memory serves me correctly, Ellia was around the equivalent of eighteen human years. As far as we know, she had shown no interest in the opposite sex while she lived with Zaddick. It's certainly possible that a female wraith would need the right pheromones present in her environment to trigger a breeding response. We know that's the case with some species of insect."

Carson felt a chill creep up his spine as Todd's head turned, slowly and deliberately, to stare at him.

"Will you confirm that?" Woolsey directed an uncomfortable look towards the wraith.

"Who are you to refer to Wraith as insects?" Todd hissed at Carson, apparently oblivious to anyone else.

"Ah, not Wraith specifically, just that some insects only breed when females are exposed to male pheromones, and given the nature of wraith DNA…"

Todd snarled, surging to his feet once again. "You have no place to compare my race to insects – you who have been responsible for the deaths of many thousands of my kind."

Something inside Carson snapped, cold fury racing through his veins. "I was defending my kind," he spat.

"Your kind? How can you claim to be human? You are the inferior creation of an abomination! The architect of …"

A rapid burst of red energy bolts hit Todd squarely in the chest as Ronon leapt over the conference table, murderous intent twisting his features. Todd fell backwards, crashing into the chair behind him, sending it spiralling into the nearest SO, who bent double at the impact.

"Ronon, stand down!" Sheppard roared, barrelling past Carson to drag the enraged Satedan off his target.

Ronon stood up, hair and eyes wild.

"Just what the hell are you doing?" Sheppard squared up to Ronon. "This could actually be a plan to stop the cullings!"

"Do you want more Wraith to feed?" Ronon growled, shaking dreadlocks out of his eyes.

"Of course I don't, but sometimes you gotta get in bed with the enemy."

"I really wish you hadn't said that," Rodney muttered from the corner.

"Okay, that was the wrong turn of phrase, but you get my point. If Todd can gain influence with this queen, maybe we'll have some kind of an influence too."

Ronon raised a sceptical brow, swinging his blaster gently on a finger.

"Yeah, I know, it's a crap plan, but we get nothing at all if you beat Todd to death," Sheppard sighed.

Woolsey stared around the room as if they'd all gone mad. "I think perhaps we'd better reconvene this meeting at a later date as the key witness is presently indisposed. Colonel, I'll leave you to make the appropriate arrangements for our guest."

He gathered his notes and tablet into a tidy pile, and strode from the room with one last dyspeptic glance at the scene.

For a moment Carson simply sat, feeling strangely distant from the last few minutes' events. Then he couldn't breathe, got to run, get out of here, and he bolted from the room, not caring where he went, just knowing he had to run, to find safety.

SGA

He pelted through corridors, blindly charging past people, unable to stop if he'd even wanted to. He was dimly aware of people calling his name, but he had to get away, to be where he couldn't do any more damage to anyone. Somehow he threw himself into a transporter, mashed wildly at the map, and emerged into a high open space, only a random column halting his mad dash.

He ricocheted backwards, stumbling and landing awkwardly on his backside, gasping for air. Tears sprung into his eyes, partly from the pain, but mostly from the maelstrom of emotions roiling inside him. He let them fall, no-one to see him lose control.

A while later, with no energy left even for tears, he hunched over head on knees, arms wrapped around his legs. Maybe he could just stay like this for the rest of his days - all four of them before he'd need another shot to stay alive. As much as he hated to acknowledge it, Todd was right – how could he pretend to be like the people he called friends? How did he even deserve friends with the terrible things he'd done?

The knot of icy self-loathing twisted tighter – all those lives he'd ruined through his very purpose. All because another version of himself had been arrogant enough to think he could 'cure' the Wraith and control an entire species.

Somewhere behind him, the transporter doors opened with a soft swoosh.

"Carson, are you okay?" Tamsin called softly.

He said nothing, wishing she'd leave, but hating himself for feeling that way.

"I called your radio, but you didn't respond. I heard what happened in the meeting."

He stayed silent. The whole base had probably heard by now – he hadn't exactly been discreet.

"Everyone's worried about you," she went on.

"Why?" he replied, not bothering to filter the bitterness.

He could almost hear her pause.

"Because we care about you, of course," she eventually replied.

"You shouldn't, I'm not worth it."

"Bollocks, Carson, I'm not in the mood for a pity party."

He looked up as Tamsin strode over and planted herself in front of him. "You tell me what that sack of shit said to you and I'll go and kick its' head in."

Any other time, the thought of Tamsin attempting to do such a thing to a creature nearly a foot taller and vastly stronger than herself might have raised a smile, but right now it only made him think of another person who would be killed on his behalf.

"It's not worth it," he repeated.

"Carson, tell me, please."

"Actually, he said nothing that wasn't the truth. I'm not human – just a thing created in a lab for the sole purpose of spreading misery across the galaxy."

She said nothing, lowering herself into a cross-legged position opposite him. She reached out.

"Please, don't touch me," he whispered, wrapping his arms tighter around his knees, attempting to keep her away. If he could just avoid contact with anyone, it would keep them safe from him.

She drew her hand back slowly, clasping it loosely in her lap with the other.

"Carson, you've told me some of this before, but I didn't realise it's still affecting you this much. Are you talking to anyone at the moment?"

"Aye, all I did when I got back to Earth was bloody 'talk about it'. I'd rather not talk about it. You know I still get the nightmares, today is just another incident. It's always worse at times like these."

"These feelings, though. That's something more."

Possibly, probably. You try not feeling despicable after all that. Despicable, contemptible – there's actually not a bloody word for what I am. You know, I tried to take my own life twice when I was with Michael. I even managed to hide a suitably sharp blade to do the deed in my cell one night. Wasn't bloody strong enough to do it in the end – too much of a coward."

He stopped, memories threatening to take over, to break down the barriers he'd worked so hard to build in order to hold on to his sanity.

"Carson, you're not a coward. You're one of the strongest people I know. I doubt you had any choice or control of your own life then. The fact that you're still here and trying to make the right choices suggests you're a good person. You know what you've done, and you're trying to make up for it. If that's not humanity, I don't know what is.

"There was a minute in that OR earlier today, when I thought I couldn't do anything more for that boy. I looked over at you and I thought Carson wouldn't give up, and he won't let me give up. So I'm not giving up on you."

For the first time since Tamsin had arrived, he raised his eyes to look at her face. She really did believe what she was saying to him. How could she have that much respect and belief in him? He had no right to it.

"I've done terrible, awful things. Only so much of it was under coercion."

"But at no point did you believe it was right, or acceptable, surely?"

"Of course not," he muttered.

"And that's what's important. You held onto that principle in the darkest time,"

"I don't know, my principles allowed me to start off the whole mess, creating Michael in the first place."

"Technically not you, but I get the point. For what it's worth, you were at war. War makes good people do bad things. Believe me, I know that, and I have no right to judge you for it."

The emphatic way she delivered her last sentence made him wonder briefly how she knew, but he began to realise that perhaps she did understand his position just a little bit.

"You're a bloody masochist, wanting to be with me," he chuckled ruefully.

"Maybe, but I don't want to be with anyone else," she replied. "I'm not for one minute suggesting this conversation fixes anything, but you need to realise everyone here believes in you."

He sighed. "I suppose I do. It's just very hard to remember on occasion."

She leaned forward, placing her hand on his shoulder, bringing her forehead to rest against his. He still felt tense, but didn't push her away this time.

"I know, I really do," she whispered. She was quiet for a moment, then pulled back to look at him. Her 'doctor' mode had kicked in, going by her expression. "You're absolutely freezing, Carson."

For the first time since he'd bolted from the conference room, he noticed the temperature wasn't actually all that balmy. A little breeze snuffled around his bare arms and he couldn't help the shiver that ran through him.

"Aye, I am a bit chilly," he admitted sheepishly.

Tamsin 'tsk'ed and shrugged out of her uniform jacket, settling it over his shoulders like a cape before he had a chance to protest. There was no chance it would fit him, but the residual warmth and her faint scent did more to comfort him than the garment itself.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one offering the jacket?" he teased with a little smile.

"You don't have a jacket to offer," she replied, matching his smile. "Do you want to stay here or go back to the city?"

He thought for a minute. "I think I'd like to look at the stars for a while longer."

"Whatever you want," she replied, taking his hand and twining their fingers together. "I'll be here."