The Burning of Your Sorrow

Title: The Burning of Your Sorrow

Author: Mice

Category: Stargate: Atlantis, McKay/Beckett

Warnings: slash, angst, h/c, AU

Spoilers: Sunday

Rating: NC17

Summary: Two months after That Sunday, Rodney confronts his truth.

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If it isn't and you'd like it, just let me know where you're putting it.

Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall http://www.squidge.org/mice

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to many other people. But if they were mine, none of them would be dead.

Author's Notes: (ff100 prompt Thanksgiving) I had to fix it. I just couldn't stand what they'd done. Thanks to Inkscribe and SGAtlantisLight and Fififolle for beta, and to Des and Laz and Victoriaely for kibitzing. I have not seen ANY of season 4, nor did I watch Sunday or any of the subsequent eps of season 3. This story is for Mare, who bid 50 letters for the Save Carson campaign many moons ago. My apologies for the length of time it took to get this together!

~~~~

To heal the burning of your sorrow

I seek a flame

~~Rumi -- trans. Shahram Shiva~~

"Colonel?" Rodney tapped his headset -- still nothing but static. Damn it. He'd lost contact in the fog well over an hour ago and he couldn't locate his team or the Jumper. His scanner wasn't registering anything more than the radio was. For all he knew, the fog itself was messing with his equipment. He was definitely leaning toward that explanation at the moment, for lack of anything better.

He could barely see to the end of his arms through the mist. Just avoiding tripping on anything was almost impossible. Sound did weird things, and he couldn't tell what was happening or where he was. Nothing seemed to work right in this stuff. "Crap," he grumbled. Why the hell did shit like this always happen to him? "Sheppard!" he bellowed, not bothering with the radio, his voice echoing crazily in the air around him.

With a grunt, Rodney sat down on what seemed to be a log. It was damp and mossy enough, at any rate. He hoped it wasn't actually some kind of hazardous fauna. Giant, mossy snake maybe. He was too out of breath to worry very much. It wasn't like he could run away if something wanted to eat him.

Impatient, he smacked his scanner on the log. Nope. Percussive maintenance wasn't going to do it.

He sat for a long time before he managed to catch his breath. Not even his watch worked out here. Muttering to himself, he rose and turned in a circle, looking around, hoping against hope that something might stand out as a landmark.

Still foggy as hell.

Sighing, he chose a random direction and started walking. He hoped there wouldn't be a cliff somewhere in front of him, because wouldn't that just suck like a really sucking thing. He tromped through the fog for what had to have been hours; it was getting dark, and that meant it was getting progressively creepier, not to mention harder to see.

He clutched his P-90 tightly, twitching at noises as he went along, but managed not to fire blindly into the mist. Sheppard had read him the riot act after he'd shot at that mouse... rat -- immense rodent a few months ago. It had to have been the size of a capybara, seriously. A Rodent Of Unusual Size, even. Rodney's foot caught on something and he went down, arms flailing, but there wasn't any ground beneath him. The last thing he remembered was thinking he was going to break his neck.

***

"Oww. Bleeding," Rodney groaned. Everything ached. He opened his eyes. It was dark except for... a glow?

Wasn't there supposed to be fog? He remembered fog. All he could see was a rock wall. Rolling onto his back, he looked up. Oh, yeah. Falling. The fog was probably up there somewhere. And why was there a glow down here? With a grunt, he sat up. Dizziness took over and he leaned to one side and puked until the nausea subsided. Grabbing his canteen, he swished his mouth out and spat. That, at least, was slightly better.

His P-90 lay nearby, dinged but probably still functional. He couldn't say the same for his scanner, which was scattered around him in tiny, unsalvageable parts. Didn't that just suck? It was cold enough that he could see his breath condensing in the air around him. Looking to see how long he'd been out, he discovered his watch was broken as well. Glorious. Not that it had worked before.

Rodney leaned against the rock wall and took stock of his body. Nothing seemed to be broken, thankfully. He didn't actually find much blood, either, though he hurt like hell and there was a lump the size of a grapefruit on the back of his head. There was a little tacky blood on his fingers, but whatever had happened, it had mostly dried a while ago. There would probably be some really disgusting bruises later and maybe an infection. If he survived this mess, he was so getting a tetanus shot.

He was dizzy and vaguely nauseous, but there was no blurred vision. He moved his neck cautiously. No, no spinal damage that he could discern, at least unless it was something that wasn't going to show until he got to his feet. Then again, would he recognize a spinal fracture? Maybe he should be in traction or something. A backboard at least. He took a deep breath and stood, swaying, bracing one hand against the wall to support himself.

The glow was coming from down a long passage, reflecting eerily off the wet stone. He thought it might be some kind of bioluminescence; it had that greenish glow to it that brought mucilaginous slime molds to mind.

He limped over to his P-90 and picked it up, then moved slowly and cautiously down the passageway, still a little dizzy and wobbly on his feet. He kept his head down, hoping to avoid any poisonous spiders potentially lurking above him. They probably lived in underground passageways. Iratus bugs lived in caves, after all -- life-sucking bastards. Rodney cringed at that, pushing away the image of Carson running out of the infested cavern, panic in his eyes as everyone fired their weapons at the nightmarish insects that pursued him.

Carson. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. It seemed like everyone else had moved on over the past couple of months but Rodney couldn't. Sure, he pretended everything was all right. Nothing was. Nothing ever would be again. God, Rodney missed him.

Tapping his headset, he tried the radio. This time there wasn't even static. "I hate my life," he muttered. "I'm gonna die in this fucking hole in the ground. Nobody will even find my rotting corpse." He kept limping along, moving toward the glow.

It was another five minutes or so before he came to a bend in the passage. Rodney leaned on the wall, his head still spinning, and peeked carefully around the corner. What he saw left him wishing his scanner wasn't a bunch of fragmented crystal and bent plastic.

"Holy shit." He gaped as he rounded the corner slowly. The glow wasn't mucilaginous slime mold. It wasn't even vaguely biological. In fact, it looked distinctly Ancient and very much technological. "Oh, wow." He wondered briefly what the Ancients had against labeling their secret outposts as he stepped into the room. The green glow slid to clear blue and brightened at his approach. He squinted as the light level rose, making his eyes sting and his head throb.

"Well, well," he said softly, "what were they doing here?" This had to be the energy reading his team had been searching for. His eyes skipped over the panels of dark monitors and the crystalline machinery along the walls around him. Setting his P-90 down on a lab bench, he approached what appeared to be the control console.

At Rodney's touch the console lit, a familiar, quiet hum filling the air. "Oh, yeah," he whispered, dizziness forgotten. "Okay, okay, what have we got?"

He worked feverishly at the console until his stomach growled. The empty, slightly nauseated ache on top of the dizziness and the incipient migraine made him realize he most likely hadn't eaten anything in several hours, and losing what had been in his stomach before hadn't helped. It was a wonder he hadn't passed out from hypoglycemia or fatal brain damage. He unwrapped a PowerBar and bit into it, not really tasting it as he made mental notes on the organization of the lab and its possible uses.

Without his laptop or his tablet, he couldn't do much translating. He was working more by instinct and the seat of his pants at this point, but he thought he might be able to get an informational hologram if he worked it right. Hands moving quick as thought, he touched buttons and moved switches. A soft sound rewarded him, and he looked over his shoulder to a small, round platform near the largest bank of machinery.

A semi-transparent figure stood there, dressed in white robes. He looked middle aged, with ebony-dark skin, short wiry black hair, and nearly black eyes. The hologram gazed around the room with a puzzled expression on his face. "Oh, yeah," Rodney said, grinning. "I am a god." The hologram looked at him. Rodney walked over to it. "So, what's the function of this facility?" he asked.

The hologram raised an eyebrow. "Who are you? You are not a member of my staff." He sounded vaguely disgruntled, though how a hologram could be disgruntled, Rodney wasn't entirely sure.

"Staff? Since when does a hologram have a staff?"

The hologram gave him a disgusted look. "You are significantly in error. I am not a hologram; my name is Theon and I am the lead researcher at this facility. Again, I ask you to identify yourself, or I shall be forced to call security."

Rodney blinked. "Not a hologram? You look pretty holographic, what with the transparency thing and all." He waved a hand through Theon, who looked rather surprised at this turn of events. It tingled, jolting up Rodney's arm like electricity. Theon gave him a very perturbed glower. "Sorry! Sorry!" Rodney yelped.

"I am quite grateful that you released me from the stasis, but my patience is wearing thin." Theon crossed his arms over his chest. "Who are you?"

"Um, uh, Rodney McKay. Doctor Rodney McKay, astrophysicist." He took a cautious step backwards, away from Theon. His heart was beating fast as an oscillating quartz crystal. He felt queasy.

Theon nodded. "And how did you come here? You are not one of my people."

"It's kind of a long story," Rodney said. "And at a guess, I'd say you've been in stasis for at least ten thousand years. None of your people are around any more, and the few that we've run into tend to be kind of standoffish, really." He wasn't about to tell the guy that they were all devious, underhanded bastards. His head hurt enough as it was.

Rodney watched nervously as Theon looked around. A long moment later, he turned his gaze to Rodney. It was as though the man was looking through him, and Rodney wondered if the Ancient was wading around in his brain.

Theon frowned, his brow wrinkling. "If what I see is true, it has been longer than that," he said softly. "The ascension project was a success."

He gestured at Theon impatiently. "Well, obviously." Rodney would have thought an ascended Ancient would have already known that.

Theon shook his head. "You do not understand. I was the first. There were no successes before I was placed in stasis."

The information left Rodney reeling with its implications. "Wow," he whispered. "But why did they put you in stasis if it was a success?" He wondered how much he might be able to learn before Theon poofed out in a shimmer of tentacular light.

Theon smiled and shook his head. "Until you released me, I did not know we had succeeded." Rodney stared at him, stunned. "I am most grateful for what you have done. I intend to go and find my people, but I wish to give you a gift for releasing me. Is there anything you want?"

A thousand things flashed through Rodney's mind -- Nobel prizes, ridding the galaxy of the Wraith, his own intergalactic starship, how to build and recharge a ZedPM. He shook his head, trying to clear it, the name coming to his lips without thought or intention. "Carson," he whispered.

It was stupid -- God it was stupid but he couldn't stop the name from falling from his mouth. Carson was the only thing he could never have. Nobels could be earned, answers to technical problems could be found, but nothing was going to bring Carson back from that grave in Scotland and that harsh truth still burned despair into him every damned day.

"Why?" Theon asked.

Rodney looked up at the Ancient, his mouth open. "He... I..." Carson had been his dearest friend for years. He missed Carson with a desperate ache he couldn't even describe and knew would never fade. His heart thundered as he stammered at Theon, unable to form words. There had been so much he'd never said to Carson, so much Rodney regretted and it lay, bitter, within him.

"I see." Theon looked into Rodney's eyes. It felt like being flayed alive, being laid bare to the marrow of his bones, and Rodney gasped and shut his eyes against the pain, covering them with one arm as light flared agonizingly bright in the room.

When he dared look again, Theon was gone. Rodney stood for a moment in silence, knowing he'd been a fool to hope the Ancient would, or even could, give him Carson back.

A quiet sound startled him and he turned to find a naked body lying curled beside the console. "Oh my god." He was hallucinating. He had to be hallucinating. He'd hit his head when he fell into the cave and he had a concussion and probably a severe brain injury and he was dying and this was another hallucination, like Sam in the crashed Jumper, when he'd been dying of hypothermia and a concussion and probably the bends, too. It couldn't be real. It was impossible. Wasn't it impossible?

His feet moved without conscious volition and Rodney fell to his knees, not believing his eyes. He reached out with one tentative hand, touching soft, living skin. He was real -- real and solid and warm and breathing and whole and oh, god. "Carson." But Sam had felt real, too. Really real -- kissing him like a lamprey eel and everything. How did he know he wasn't hallucinating now?

Carson groaned then cried out, terrified, as he curled in on himself. Rodney startled at the sound, but it shocked him out of his paralysis. He shrugged off his tac vest and pulled his jacket off, wrapping it around Carson's shoulders. "Oh god, Carson," Rodney gasped. "Are you okay?" He didn't try to tuck Carson's arms into the sleeves. It was better if he could wrap it around himself.

Carson shivered as his eyes opened wide, flashing around in fear and confusion. One trembling hand reached up and grabbed Rodney's shirt. "What -- what happened?" Carson's voice was shaky and he was panting and frantic as Rodney slipped his arms around him and held him close, cherishing the sound of a voice he thought he'd never hear again.

"Easy, easy," Rodney said softly, running a hand down Carson's back. "It's okay, I've got you." He really hoped this wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him. Anything but that.

"Ex-explosion," Carson stammered. "There was an explosion. Oh, Lord." He shuddered, burying his face in Rodney's chest. His breath was warm, even through Rodney's clothing.

Rodney couldn't help remembering the burnt-out corridor in Atlantis, the smell of smoke and chemicals and nauseating burnt flesh, and the charred corpse of the man now alive and breathing, whole in his arms. Nothing made sense. This wasn't possible. "It's okay," he whispered, not caring if this was a hallucination.

Blanket. He needed a blanket. Something. Carson was naked. He had to be cold, or he would be soon. It wasn't warm in here. Their breath was still visible in the air. Rodney looked around, seeing nothing useful. Damned Ancients and their barren labs. Every halfway decent lab in any galaxy should at least have a cot with some blankets in it for those late nights when you just couldn't walk away from a project.

"Rodney." It was more a whimper than anything else, and Rodney thought he might shatter from the sound.

"It's okay, I've got you." Carson curled into him, still shaking, and Rodney tucked his jacket closer around Carson's body, trying to get up. "I need to find a way to turn up the heat in here."

Carson clung to him. "I was dead," he whispered. "I had to be dead."

Rodney's heart seized and he pulled Carson into a close embrace, holding him tight, trying to deny what he knew. "Nononono," he hissed, eyes closed against the memories. "You're not dead, you're not." It couldn't be real. It felt real. It sounded real. Carson's hair was soft on his cheek as he nuzzled it, and it smelled like sun and dry leaves and sweat.

"Oh, Lord." Carson looked up into his eyes, still in shock. "Rodney." They were just as blue as he remembered, deep as the sky, and Rodney was lost in them.

Rodney's eyes stung, filling and overflowing as he blinked away tears. "Carson." He sniffled and pulled himself together, wiping his face with one arm. "We need to get you warm. Everything's going to be okay." Maybe. If he could find a way to contact Sheppard. If this was real. If he wasn't actually dying of severe brain trauma and a fractured skull. His extremely valuable brain was probably leaking out on the ground even now. He pulled himself reluctantly from Carson's arms. "Just sit there, okay? I'll be right back." Staggering to his feet, he played with the console until he got the heat going. Warm. Carson needed to be warm. Carson shivered, leaning against his leg and looking shocky. Rodney resisted the urge to reach down and run his fingers through Carson's hair as he tried to determine if the lab had a communications console.

"Cold," Carson whispered. He looked up at Rodney and blinked. "Why am I cold?"

Rodney knelt beside Carson, one hand on his friend's shoulder, squeezing and trying to reassure him. "Stupid Ancient brought you back with no clothes on." He tugged his shirt over his head and gave it to Carson, helping him slide into it. He tucked his jacket around Carson's hips and thighs. "That should help," he said. His shirt was a little large on Carson's slightly smaller frame, but that was all right. Rodney still wore his tee shirt, and he grabbed his tac vest and put that on so he'd stay just a little warmer. "It's okay, you don't have to move. I have the heat up and you should warm up in a little while. I have to try to contact the Colonel."

Carson wrapped his arms around himself as he leaned against the console, still looking disoriented. "Where are we?"

"M3R-475," Rodney told him, looking at the console again. "But that's about as accurate as it's going to get. My scanner's broken and I have no idea where this lab is located."

"I was dead," Carson murmured, his voice cracking. "I was dead." His eyes closed and Rodney could see tears welling and running down his cheeks.

Oh, no. Carson was going to have a meltdown. That was the last thing he needed. Rodney was pretty sure he was already off his nut himself, and Carson flipping out wasn't going to help. He had no idea how to handle it, so he reached down and petted Carson's hair while he kept fiddling with the console, looking for communications. There had to be -- yes, there it was.

He went to a new panel, pushed a few buttons and swapped a couple of crystalline circuits around, then adjusted for the Atlantis radio frequency. "Colonel? Do you read me?"

"McKay! Are you all right? Where the fuck have you been?" Rodney was relieved to hear Sheppard's voice, but still not sure any of this was real.

"I don't know. I got lost in the fog and then none of my equipment worked and I fell in a hole. It was a huge hole, and really deep. I'm lucky I didn't break my neck. But I found an Ancient lab. And... And something else."

"You've been gone for ten hours, Rodney -- we've got search teams out looking for you. Keep broadcasting on this frequency and we'll triangulate. What did you find?"

Ten hours? Damn. He had to have been unconscious for at least six or eight of that. "I... To be honest, I'm not sure I'm not hallucinating," Rodney said. " For all I know, I'm just talking to myself and you're not real either." He set the console to keep broadcasting while he sat down next to Carson again. "They're going to find us, Carson. Everything's going to be okay."

"I didn't catch that last bit, McKay," Sheppard said. "Somebody there with you?"

Rodney looked up at the console and grumbled. "When you get here, maybe you can tell me," he snapped. He settled down with Carson, who leaned into him, still shivering. Rodney slid an arm around him. He certainly felt solid enough.

"You've gotta be hallucinating again. It sounded like you said Carson." Sheppard sounded worried. "You hit your head again, didn't you? Talking to people that aren't there, like in the Jumper."

"Most likely," Rodney agreed. Carson rested his head on Rodney's shoulder and tucked up into a tight ball under his arm. His feet were tucked under Rodney's thigh. They were like ice. "But if it's a hallucination, it's a pretty convincing one. You'd better be real, Colonel, or I'm going to be really pissed off."

"Just keep talking, McKay."

"Sure, fine." He nuzzled Carson's hair again, trying to reassure himself. He didn't like how quiet Carson had got. "And bring some blankets, would you? I think we're going to need them."

Carson sniffled again and wrapped his arms around Rodney. "Oh, god," Carson whispered. Rodney held him, almost in tears again. What if this *was* real? What if he *wasn't* hallucinating?

"Can you talk to me, Carson?" He kept his voice soft. If he was insane, he really didn't want Sheppard to overhear him talking to a ghost. Okay, so he was a shivering, cold ghost wearing Rodney's clothes, but still, it wouldn't sound too good on the mission report.

"How could I be alive?" Carson raised a tear-streaked face to him, looking into his eyes. "This isn't possible. It's not possible."

Rodney rested his forehead against Carson's, their noses touching. "I haven't a single fucking clue. Given that there was an Ancient involved, this might be real. I don't know. I hope like hell it is, though."

He wanted it to be real. He wanted Carson back more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life. Rodney had been miserable since his friend's death, blaming himself for not going fishing with him, hating himself because Carson had stayed on Atlantis that day. He shuddered, clinging to Carson. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, I'm so sorry, Carson. I would have gone if I'd known. I'd do anything to change what happened, to have you back again."

"I died." Carson's voice wavered. "How can I be here with you, like this?"

"I'd say maybe we were both dead," Rodney told him, "but I can't imagine this being an afterlife." Carson's breath was warm on his face. His feet were still cold under Rodney's thigh. Rodney brushed a hand over Carson's cheek, feeling the scratch of stubble and the cooling trail of wetness where tears had fallen. "This has to be real. It has to be."

Carson drew a shaky breath. "Rodney," he whispered, and Rodney's pulse skyrocketed. Not thinking, he leaned closer, his nose slipping beside Carson's, their lips meeting, soft and warm. Carson's mouth moved on his and Rodney pulled Carson tight to his body, desperate, holding him close, not caring about anything but the kiss they shared.

Carson's hand was in his hair, painful on the bloody lump on his head, another hand on his back, fingers pulling weakly on his vest. Rodney's heart was hammering as they held each other; he'd never said anything to Carson about this, too afraid of being rejected out of hand or ruining the friendship. But here, now, this kiss was the only thing keeping him afloat. Carson's mouth was soft and wet and his tongue touched Rodney's lips, asking entrance. Rodney opened his mouth to it, needing it like he needed oxygen.

Carson made a quiet, strangled sound and pulled away from the kiss, gasping for breath with his eyes closed. "Please be real," Rodney begged him.

"I'm not dead." Carson's eyes opened, his arms still wrapped around Rodney's body. "Rodney, I'm not dead."

"No," Rodney agreed, still dizzy and more than a little stunned by what had happened. "You're not. God, you're not." He grinned and touched Carson's face with his fingers, running them over Carson's skin. Carson kissed his fingertips as they passed over his lips and he giggled, sounding slightly hysterical.

"I'm not dead," Carson said again, still giggling.

Rodney tilted his face closer and kissed him again, slow and deep. His body ached from his fall and his head throbbed with every beat of his heart, but he didn't care. It just meant this was real and Carson was alive and that he had a chance to make things right.

***

McKay had been missing for ten hours and Sheppard was frantic. The scientist had disappeared into the fog and none of them had been able to raise him on the radio. Three hours into the fruitless search, he'd sent Teyla back to Atlantis for a couple of extra teams to aid in the attempt.

When Rodney's voice finally came over the radio, Sheppard didn't know whether to laugh, strangle the bastard, or collapse in a relieved heap. That relief was short-lived when he realized Rodney thought he was talking to Beckett.

The radio transmission was coming from somewhere inside the fog, but they couldn't detect anything through it. Even the scanners in the jumper didn't show anything. Frustrated, he'd hassled McKay through the task of checking the control panels in the Ancient lab he'd found until something made the fog dissipate. Annoying as that shit was, they'd have to study the system. It would make great camouflage for Atlantis if they could figure out how it worked and move it to the city.

Once the fog was gone, it didn't take long to find where Rodney had fallen into the underground complex that concealed the lab. Lorne and Stackhouse's teams were with his own as they moved along the tunnel that led to the lab. Sheppard and Ronon took point with Teyla close behind, all of them worried but not saying so. He hoped Rodney would be all right; when he'd pulled him out of the crashed jumper under the ocean he had been far too close to losing the man. Who knew what kind of shape he was in now?

The talking-to-Beckett thing bothered him. It bothered him a lot. McKay hadn't been the same since the doctor died. He'd been cold and distant, far angrier than Sheppard had ever seen him. Everyone else had been working on letting go, moving on, but Rodney just couldn't seem to do it. He knew Beckett had been Rodney's closest friend, but hallucinating Beckett was only going to make things worse. He wondered if Rodney would ever get over his best friend's death.

"Stay alert," Sheppard said quietly as they got close to the blue glow. He could feel the tension in everyone around him. They moved silently, slipping to the doorway, weapons at ready. God only knew what Rodney was actually talking to if he was in an Ancient lab. It could be just about anything and that anything was probably dangerous.

Peering cautiously into the large room, he saw nothing but machinery at first. He stepped in with Ronon right at his heels, Teyla covering the room from the doorway.

Rodney sat huddled against a control console in his pants, tee shirt, and tac vest, his boots untied. Some of his hair was matted with dried blood. There was a dark haired man curled in his arms wearing what looked like Rodney's shirt, with Rodney's jacket wrapped around his waist and a pair of socks that, like the rest of it, were probably Rodney's. The man's legs were bare and he was shivering slightly in the chilly room. Sheppard wasn't entirely sure what to make of the situation. "McKay?"

Rodney looked up, shock and astonishment in his eyes. "Colonel?" He looked at everyone moving into the room. "Did you bring the blankets I asked for?"

Sergeant Ilyukhin, the medic, hurried over to McKay. The figure in Rodney's arms shifted and looked up at them. "Colonel?" Sheppard blinked, a chill sweeping through him, sending his bones to ice. Whoever the hell it was, it sure looked like Carson Beckett. The look on Rodney's face was raw and his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks streaked with dried tears. Sheppard had no idea why he hadn't seen the obvious before -- McKay was in love with Beckett. Nothing else made any sense; why else would Rodney have been so devastated? Sheppard's gut twisted. This had to be some kind of sick mind-fuck, playing on Rodney's vulnerability.

Everyone stood for a long moment, staring, too shocked to say anything. Ilyukhin's movement broke the spell as the medic dropped his field pack and started examining the men.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Sheppard demanded, standing his ground. Teyla hurried to Rodney's side, speaking softly, and Sheppard couldn't hear what she said.

"There was an ascended Ancient," Rodney said. He sounded confused and more than a little out of it. "Freon. Peon."

"Theon. His name was Theon." God, the words were shaky but it sounded just like Beckett. There was no damned way in hell this could be real. Maybe it was this ascended Theon guy pretending to be Carson, though Sheppard couldn't understand why. Then again, he'd gotten used to never knowing what the fuck the Ancients were thinking.

Ronon moved to join Teyla and Ilyukhin by Rodney. "Doc?" he asked, astonished. Sheppard could hear the emotion in the big Satedan's voice as he knelt and reached out to touch the man.

"Just a minute," Sheppard snapped. "This can't be Beckett. Carson's dead. We all saw his body. This has got to be some twisted Ancient trick. Just stay away from him. Rodney, come away from him." Sheppard kept his P-90 trained on the man.

Rodney pulled him closer. "No, damn it," he snarled. "This is real. It's Carson. He's got to be real."

"I feel real," the man said softly, sounding astonished. His eyes were blue, like Beckett's. His hair was the same color Beckett's had been, though mussed and a little floppy, falling over his forehead. He looked shocky and upset. "But to be honest, I'm still not sure what's happened."

Ilyukhin pulled an emergency blanket from his pack and wrapped the pseudo-Beckett in it. "Please to just rest. You're possibly a little hypothermic, but you do not seem injured." The Russian medic hadn't been in Atlantis when Carson died. He had no idea how this had to be messing with everyone's head.

"Colonel," Lorne said, "that sure looks like the doc."

Stackhouse nodded. "Sounds like him too."

"We can't take him back home. This could be a serious security risk." Sheppard glared at the others.

Teyla knelt next to Rodney and the other man, her hand on the fake Beckett's shoulder. "Colonel," she said softly, "he is very cold, and Rodney has a severe head injury. We should take them back to the jumper where they can at least be treated more easily. And we need to inform Doctor Weir, as well."

Sheppard looked at his people. "Look, we don't know this isn't that Ancient Rodney was talking about."

"True," Ronon said, shrugging, "but we can find out." He stood up and looked at Sheppard meaningfully.

Rodney looked Sheppard in the eyes. "Please. This really is Carson." His voice was pleading. Sheppard had never heard Rodney sounding so hurt. "We need to take him home. I'll... I'll explain what I can when we get there, okay? Just, please, let's take him home."

Uncertain, Sheppard looked at the others. To a man, they all looked like they agreed with Rodney. Sheppard sighed and nodded. "Okay. We'll take him to the Alpha site. But we check him out in the infirmary there as soon as we arrive to be sure it's really him."

Pseudo-Beckett nodded and his voice quavered when he spoke. "Of course." He clung to Rodney like a life preserver, tugging the blanket around himself weakly as he shivered. Rodney looked back at the man and Sheppard thought his heart would break at the expression on his friend's face. The need there was painful and desperate. Trying to pry Rodney away from Beckett would be a mistake, regardless. They'd have to resolve this later, but he could at least give Elizabeth a heads up before the jumper went through the Gate.

"Okay, right. Let Ilyukhin finish checking McKay. Let's be sure it's not dangerous to move him. Stackhouse, you and your team head back to the jumper, bring it here and get things ready for the medevac to Alpha."

"Aye, sir." Stackhouse saluted and he and his men headed off at a trot.

Sheppard had a headache the size of a Hiveship. God only knew what kind of trouble he was inviting in doing this but if by some miracle this really was Carson Beckett, life was going to get really interesting in short order.

***

Ronon sat between the cots where McKay and Beckett lay sleeping. He watched as the doctor talked to Sheppard, Lorne, and Weir. Things were pretty tense between them, and Sheppard still didn't seem convinced that Beckett was really himself. Ronon could feel it in his bones, though.

He'd carried Beckett, dressed in bits of McKay's clothes and wrapped in a couple of blankets, back to the jumper. The doc had recognized everyone but Anatoly Ilyukhin, who'd only shipped in a couple of weeks ago. And he'd asked about the bomb disposal technician, too. Ronon had seen enough of the Ancestors now to know that none of them would have cared. They didn't seem to have that kind of compassion. Doc had closed his eyes and let silent tears fall when Ronon told him the bomb guy hadn't made it.

Ronon sighed and shook his head. Both of them had been a mess when the rescue teams found them. McKay had looked the worst: bruised, bloody, banged up, and emotionally wrecked. It had been so hard on him when Beckett died. Ronon had been attracted to the doc too, but he knew those two belonged to each other, even if they had been too stupid or stubborn to see it. He'd told Sheppard he wasn't ready to be seeing anyone yet, but that was only part of the truth. He knew Beckett would have said no if he'd asked, wanting McKay instead, whether either of them realized it or not. Why people who were in love were usually the last ones to figure it out had always confused him, and the Earthers were weirder about it than most.

"Doctor McKay's got a mild ankle sprain, a lot of contusions, and a hairline fracture of his occipital bone," the doctor was saying. She looked over at McKay. "Five stitches for the laceration on his scalp. He's going to be in the infirmary for a while. And Doctor Beckett," she held up a hand to forestall his protest. "Yes, Colonel, I know you don't believe it's him -- his body is reacting like he's been in a coma for a couple of months."

"That would explain why he was having so much trouble trying to stand up," Lorne said. Weir nodded.

"Muscle atrophy, among other things," Doctor Cole said. She shook her head. "He's not going to be in any condition to be getting in trouble for rather a while if we bring him back to Atlantis. He'll need physical therapy to get him on his feet again." She looked Sheppard in the eye. "We're going to have to do genetic testing with some of the Ancient equipment to determine for certain if he really is Doctor Beckett. Our own tests won't tell us if he's a clone, for instance. The only way to do that is to bring him home."

Sheppard's shoulders were tight, his eyes hard. "I'm still uneasy about it, but you're right. There's no way we can make that determination for certain without it. What did Beckett say last time we had an Ancient under the scanner?" He looked over to Weir.

"That she was 'too perfect,'" Weir answered. "And it's obvious that Carson--" Her voice wavered when she said his name. "That Carson is not well just yet. I think that already rules out the potential of this being an Ancient pretending to be human. But I agree that precautions are necessary."

Sheppard nodded. "Okay, so long as we're on the same page." He looked over at Ronon. "But I want you to keep an eye on him. He doesn't leave the infirmary until he's been cleared by the docs and by me."

"Right," Ronon said. He didn't have any objections at all to sitting with Beckett while he recovered. He smiled. It would be good to have the doc home again.

***

Elizabeth sat in Dr. Cole's office, fidgeting slightly as the doctor read through her notes. Rodney was hurt but would recover, though it would take a while. He'd been unconscious for several hours but was responding well; he was alert and oriented when he was awake. The man who looked like Carson Beckett left her feeling uncertain. She didn't know if she should listen to John's fears or to her own hope that her friend had somehow been restored to them.

John Sheppard sat next to her, looking over his shoulder back into the infirmary every so often, still suspicious. "So, doc," he asked. "What's the verdict? Do we have a mind-fuck or a miracle on our hands?"

Dr. Cole looked up, raising one eyebrow. "Well, according to the Ancient scanners, it looks like we have a miracle. It's definitely Carson. He's not a clone, not an Asuran, and his health right now is too fragile for him to be a descended Ancient." She sighed and set her notes down. "He's still very confused but I think that's understandable. People don't exactly come back from the dead every day."

"No shit," John muttered, but he looked relieved. "So, what now?" He looked at Elizabeth.

"How is he doing?" she asked. Her heart leaped, thrilled at the outcome, but this meant that there would be a lot of readjustments for everyone. She wondered if Carson would want to stay with them, or if he'd want to go home to Scotland. If he did want to return to Earth she wasn't sure how anyone was going to explain the funeral or the body in the coffin. SGC had stock explanations for the gate teams, but for a civilian physician?

Cole leaned back in her chair. "Considering that I have no experience with people rising from the dead, I'm not entirely sure. He's got some muscle atrophy, and his immune system is a little depressed. He's probably going to go through some emotional shock and depression for a while as he readjusts. He'll need physical therapy, and I'll have a consult request in to Kate later today so that he can get a psych eval from her. Physically, he needs rest and to rebuild his system and some muscle tone. Emotionally, though, I'm not sure how long his recovery will be. We'll just have to take things as they come."

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay. What do we need to do to support him in this?"

The doctor eyed John. "Well, first I'd suggest removing the watch dog, Colonel."

John nodded. "Right, no more guards. Now that we know it's Carson I don't have a problem with that. Ronon'll probably stick around, though. He likes Carson."

"He's going to need all of his friends," Cole continued. "If there's anything of his left that didn't get shipped back to his family, it will help him to have it nearby. Working toward including him in his previous daily activities as he becomes more capable will also help, I'm sure."

"Right," Elizabeth said. "I'll see to it that his former quarters are reassigned to him, if he wants them. And I'd love to see him resume his position as CMO." She gave Cole an apologetic look. "I hope you'll understand."

Cole sighed and shrugged. "Who am I to argue with a miracle?" One corner of her mouth tilted up, and the expression in her eyes lightened. "I never would have ended up in this position anyway if I'd not had a migraine and begged out of my shift that day."

Elizabeth smiled. A miracle. She liked the sound of that.

***

Carson eased himself gently into his bed in the infirmary after his physio session, shooing away the physical therapist with a few quiet words and the wave of a hand. He was exhausted and ached like hell. He lay back with a tired sigh, hauling his legs up onto the bed with some effort. It would be good when he got his strength back and could move normally again.

The whole coming back from the dead thing was far more disturbing than he'd thought it would be. Then again, he'd not really thought about what it might be like to be resurrected before he'd actually died. The nightmares were terrifying, though, and the ghost of fire on his skin was a living memory.

He didn't think adjusting to simply being alive would be so hard. After all, he'd lived for nearly forty years before he'd died. Been rather attached to it, even. Rumor had it that Daniel Jackson had died quite a few times, and General O'Neill, too, for that matter. Then again, O'Neill was a right loon to begin with, so who knew what bothered him about this whole coming back from the dead thing.

Shifting his weight, he sighed again. He felt so uncomfortable in his own skin. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt an echo of the flash of light and heat that had taken his life. More of it had come back over the past two days, and he wondered if at some point he'd be reliving his death in agonizing detail. He moaned softly.

"Carson?"

Carson opened his eyes and looked over at Rodney, who lay in the next bed. "Rodney," he said softly.

"You okay?"

He really wanted to say no, but he knew it would upset Rodney. "Aye. I'll be all right."

Rodney's eyes tightened. "Don't lie to me. You hurt. I know you do." He got up, moving slowly over toward Carson's bed.

"Oh, back to bed with you," Carson grumbled. "You've a concussion and a sprained ankle and you shouldn't be on your feet."

Rodney snorted and sat on Carson's bed next to him. "Not standing now." He reached out and laid one hand on Carson's chest. The look in his eyes said he still didn't quite believe any of it was real. Carson didn't blame him. He rested his hand over Rodney's and their eyes met. Rodney's fingers tightened in Carson's scrub top. "I just... you don't look good."

"I'm just tired." Carson made himself sit up, bracing his back against the pillows. "This is all so..."

Rodney nodded. "Yeah, I kinda know what you mean." He leaned in slowly, watching Carson for a reaction, until their lips met. Carson closed his eyes and let Rodney's warmth sink into him with the gentle contact. He slipped his other hand around Rodney's waist, wanting him a little closer.

They'd never done this before Carson died -- never said or done anything to hint at this, though he realized now how it had lain unspoken between them. Rodney's kiss was tender and tentative, as though he was still uncertain they had the right to be doing this. He breathed in and opened his mouth to Rodney's tongue and Rodney shifted closer until their hips were touching. Carson made a soft sound of pleasure and need, and Rodney's breath caught. He pulled away from Carson and they looked into each other's eyes.

"I missed you," Rodney whispered, his words quavering. "So much."

"I feel so out of place," Carson told him. "I don't know what to do, how to figure this out. It feels... it feels wrong, somehow." He didn't know where he belonged anymore. Elizabeth had told him that he could have the CMO position if he wanted it back; that it was, by all rights, his. That he could have his old quarters back. He wasn't sure yet what he wanted to do. He knew he needed Rodney, though, whatever happened, so that most likely meant staying in Atlantis. He didn't think Rodney would leave the city for his sake.

Rodney shook his head, upset, and touched his forehead to Carson's. "You belong here. You should never have died." His words were quiet but vehement, emphasized by the tightening grip on Carson's scrub top. "You can't leave," he pleaded.

Carson didn't say anything. He pulled Rodney into an embrace, holding him with what little strength he had. Rodney was so solid, so comfortable and familiar. With Rodney holding him, the fire behind Carson's eyes faded to warmth. "Stay with me," Carson whispered back. "I feel so lost."

"I'm right here." Rodney's strong arms tightened around him. "You belong here," he insisted. "Just tell me what I need to do. Anything, Carson." There was desperation in Rodney's eyes. He raised one hand and caressed Carson's face. "I still can't believe this is real, that you're alive. I keep thinking if I close my eyes, if I'm not touching you, you'll be gone again, and I don't think I can take that."

He buried his face in Rodney's shoulder, willing himself not to cry. God, he needed this man. He wasn't certain of anything else, but that he knew to the core of his being.

***

Word had been getting around and everyone had been asking Rodney about Carson. Was it real? Was he honestly alive again? Was he okay? Rodney had answered them, though some part of him wondered if it wasn't just for curiosity's sake that people were asking. After all, the SGC had a disturbing history of people coming back from the dead. Why shouldn't it happen in Atlantis occasionally as well?

That didn't stop him from dropping into the infirmary several times a day to make sure Carson was still there. The nagging feeling in his gut that Carson would vanish, that this was all some weird dream, hadn't passed. He couldn't shake that fear unless he could see Carson, touch him, hear his voice.

From what Rodney could get out of the doctors, Carson wasn't going to be released for another week or so, at least. He was doing a little better and getting his legs back under him, but they really didn't know what to make of the whole poofing back into existence thing and his mood meant they had him on a suicide watch. He supposed it was better not to take any chances. And really, Carson still seemed a little skittish and unwilling to deal with people. It kind of made sense; Rodney wouldn't want a bunch of gawkers in his face if he dropped back into life two months after he'd died. It would be too much like being a sideshow freak. Carson didn't need that.

Carson was sitting in bed reading when Rodney poked his head in the door of the private room he'd been moved to. "Hey," he said softly.

Carson looked up. "Rodney." He smiled. God, it was so good to see him smiling again. Rodney smiled back.

"How are you doing today? Whatcha reading?" He entered and pulled a chair up next to Carson's bed. Carson held up the book and grinned. Rodney read the title and blinked. "'Island of the Sequined Love Nun?'" he asked, incredulous.

"It's really quite funny," Carson said, slipping a bookmark into the volume.

"By the author of 'The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove'?" Rodney shook his head to clear it. "Please tell me this is some kind of joke. Oh, god, did some alien take over your brain in the three hours since I was in here last?"

Carson chuckled. He set the book on the table next to his bed. "If they're going to be keeping me here, I don't care for being bored. I'd read a medical journal, but I'm still not focusing too well. I can't follow the text for long enough to get the meaning of the articles." He sighed, his smile fading. "I don't know what I'm going to do," he said softly.

"You're getting better. Give it time." Rodney took his hand and squeezed gently. "Really, everything's going to be okay."

"It's hard, Rodney. People want to come and see me, but sometimes I think they just want to stare at the dead man."

"People missed you. They're glad you're back. But yeah, I get what you're saying." And Carson referring to himself as a dead man made Rodney's skin crawl. There was entirely too much wrong with the concept.

Carson tugged a little and Rodney moved his chair closer. "I'm half afraid to move back into my old quarters. There's nothing there anymore. I think it would just feel strange. Empty. Like I didn't belong."

Rodney paused for a moment, not sure he dared say it. "You, um, you could stay with me for a while," he said quickly. "Until you get things sorted out, anyway. You wouldn't be alone that way. I mean the docs were saying you might need some help for a little bit after they release you, right?"

He didn't admit that half the reason he wanted Carson there was just so he'd *know* Carson was still with him, that it wasn't a dream. He watched as Carson blinked and looked up at him.

"I... Rodney, I..." Carson took a deep breath. "Are you sure? I'd most likely just be in your way."

Rodney got up and sat on the bed with him. "Moron," he muttered. "If you were going to be in the way, I wouldn't ask you." He honestly did want to help, and he knew there had to be at least a few things he could do for Carson. He wanted so much for Carson to just start feeling normal again but he wasn't sure if that could ever happen.

"It might be awkward," Carson said softly. "Considering..." He gestured, waving his hand between them. Yeah, 'awkward' described it. They'd not really talked about it but he knew they needed each other.

Rodney shrugged. "Since when have I ever given a shit about what anyone else thinks?" He took Carson's hand in both of his own. "All I care about is that you're back. Anybody gives either one of us trouble, I'll have their asses on the next Daedalus run back to Earth -- I don't care who they are or whose shorts it puts in a knot. And to be honest, I really don't think anyone will give a damn." Well, okay, he'd probably make anyone who gave Carson any shit suffer like hell before he had them shipped out but Carson didn't need to know that.

Carson gave a little frown, scrunching his face up and looking perplexed. "And where would I sleep, then?"

"Uh, with me?" Rodney offered quietly, his heart pounding. Carson blinked. Rodney's brain kicked into overdrive. God, Carson might think that was moving too fast or something and -- "Or, I mean, really, we could get another bed in there. Or I could move to a place with two bedrooms. Or we could--"

Rodney felt Carson squeeze his hand. "I--" Carson looked confused. "Are you sure you'd want that? I mean, I don't think you should have to move out of your home. You've been there for three years now, and--"

"Look," Rodney said, holding on to Carson's hand tightly. "It's just... if you're going to feel weird in your own place, why not try something different. It might help. And if you're staying with me, at least the whole empty apartment thing won't be an issue. You'd have company. Well, when I wasn't at work, anyway. And you'd have some privacy, because nobody's gonna bother you if you're in my place."

"Except when some emergency wakes you in the middle of the night," Carson said, his eyes shifting uneasily.

Rodney waved a hand dismissively, his other still held warmly in Carson's. "Doesn't happen nearly as much as you might imagine."

"I-I suppose so," Carson said. "But don't feel like you have to move just for my sake." Carson looked him in the eyes.

Rodney's chest ached and warmth spread through him as a smile grew on his face. "Really?" He thought about what it would be like, having Carson with him, maybe sharing a bed with him. It felt good. Really, really good.

Carson's lips quirked in a tiny smile, and he lowered his eyes, looking at their joined hands. "Aye, really."

"So, um, we'll worry about getting another bed into my place when you're ready to be released from the infirmary." He watched Carson, who blushed a bit. It was kind of cute, actually.

"I don't think you'll have to worry about that," Carson whispered, blushing even redder. Rodney felt his own cheeks go warm on him, but he grinned.

"Oh, good." Relief flooded through him. He squeezed Carson's hand again. "I'll just -- I have stuff to do. Staff to harass. Miracles to perform." He stood, taking his hand back. Rodney paused for a moment before he turned away. "Thank you." Carson looked up at him, and the light in his eyes made Rodney just a little dizzy. He hurried out before he decided he couldn't leave at all.

***

Carson sighed as he settled into the plush chair in Kate Heightmeyer's office. He'd been seeing her since he'd been brought back from the Ancient lab on M3R-475, and it was probably a good thing. He was still having a lot of trouble adjusting, though he'd been trying to talk to people a little more often as he'd been going through physiotherapy and getting ready to be released from the infirmary.

"How are you doing today, Carson?" she asked. "Did the move go well?"

Carson shrugged, not entirely sure how he felt. "Well, there wasn't much to move. A few changes of clothes that mostly fit, a couple of books that people have given me. That's really about it. I could fit it all into one small bag."

She nodded. "How do you feel about not having any familiar things with you anymore?"

He sighed. "Rodney... Rodney had a photo I'd kept by my bed, of the two of us offworld. And he'd kept one of my blankets from home." He'd felt so warm inside when he saw that, the blanket spread over the foot of Rodney's bed and the photo next to a picture of his cat. Carson smiled, but it faded quickly, replaced by the anxiety that had been his constant companion since his return. "I feel like a ghost, Kate. Like I'm not supposed to be here anymore. It's creepy."

"I'm glad Rodney kept a couple of your things. It seems that pleased you as well. Did that help at all with the feelings of displacement?"

Anger flared within him. "I wasn't 'displaced', Kate, I was *dead*," he snapped. "I've been alive again for all of two weeks now. My body's still not entirely cooperating with me, and I feel like great whacking chunks of me are missing, but I don't bloody well know which ones."

Kate leaned back in her chair a bit. She was silent for a moment as Carson tried to collect himself again. "Do you think it might help if we got Doctor Jackson here to talk to you? He's been through this before."

"I thought he'd ascended." Carson paused for a moment and took a shaky breath. "I didn't ascend -- I died. It was terrible, agonizing. The explosion was... the heat was like a blast furnace," he choked, as the memory of burning flesh seared through his body again. He doubted anyone could possibly begin to understand what this had been like for him.

"I'm not trying to minimize your trauma or your feelings in any way, Carson, but I really want us to try to find a way to help you. Daniel actually was dead a couple of times and revived in a Goa'uld sarcophagus. That might at least be somewhat similar," she offered gently. "He's dealt with some very similar traumas."

Carson crossed his arms over his chest, shuddering, trying not to feel so desperately empty. The only time he ever really felt anything like himself was when he was with Rodney. "I don't know," he said hesitantly. She didn't deserve his anger. He knew she was only doing her job, trying to help.

"I know you've said being around Rodney has helped, and I know he's been doing everything he can to try to make things easier for you." She looked at him with sympathy in her eyes. Carson wasn't sure he wanted sympathy. There were moments it felt too much like pity. "Do you think your other friends can help him support you?"

He took a sharp breath and the words came, unbidden, his voice rough with emotion. "He's the only thing that's made this Godforsaken mess bearable." He flushed at the sound of his words, of what he'd meant by them, not wanting to admit just how critical Rodney's caring was to him, or how awful he usually felt. "It's never goin' ta get better."

Kate reached out and laid a hand on his arm. "It's already been getting better. You're able to walk again without difficulty. Your strength may not be what it was before, but it's getting there. Your focus and concentration are much better. You've been able to start reading journal articles again. A week ago, it was still just fiction. You're--"

"Kate, please," he interrupted. "It's not about that. It's never been about that at all. I don't feel like I belong here anymore. Not just Atlantis, but-but *here* -- alive." Her eyes widened. Carson had never told her that before. It was terrible to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind. He'd certainly not said it to Rodney, God forbid. "Sometimes," he whispered, not looking at her, "sometimes, I think Rodney's the only thing holding me together."

"Carson," she asked quietly, "are you sure you're ready to leave the infirmary, feeling that way?"

"I don't know," he said honestly, burying his face in his hands. "But at least if I'm staying with Rodney, I'll see more of him than I do in the infirmary. If he's what's keeping me together, that can't be a bad thing."

"I'm worried about you," she replied. "What can we do to help you feel better, to feel more like you have a right to be here with us? How can we help you want to live again?"

"I wish I knew," he whispered. "I wish I knew."

***

Carson was quiet when Rodney got home from work. Rodney figured it was stress -- Carson had seemed pretty depressed at having so little to call his own, though he'd smiled when he saw the blanket and the photo of them that Rodney had kept. He sat next to Carson, who looked up at him and gave him a wan smile. "Hello, Rodney."

"Hey, Carson." Rodney slid over close to him. "You doing okay?"

Carson shook his head. "Not really," he said softly. "Better, now you're here." His eyes brightened a little and he reached out, tentative. Rodney's stomach tightened with worry.

"Why did you wait up for me?" Rodney asked. He looked at his watch as he slipped his arms around Carson. "It's almost 2500."

"I know." Carson was shaking a little in his arms. "I wasn't ready to go to bed."

"Okay," Rodney said. "You don't have to." Carson nodded, silent, his chin bumping against Rodney's shoulder. "It'll be okay," Rodney said helplessly, hoping maybe it would be soon. So often, he had no idea what to do for Carson or how to help him. He hoped that this, at least, was worthwhile. Carson snuggled closer, pressing into Rodney's body, still shivering slightly. "Do, um, do you need anything?" Carson was here -- he was in Rodney's quarters, in Rodney's arms. It felt almost unreal, and he breathed Carson in. He smelled like tension and anxiety, but Rodney didn't care.

"Just you," Carson whispered, holding him tight. Rodney was tired, and normally he'd have just come home and fallen into bed, but this was more important. He nuzzled Carson's hair, his eyes closed, just feeling the embrace. They sat like that, holding each other silently for a long time.

Eventually, though, his body started giving in to exhaustion. "Carson," he said softly, "can we maybe go to bed now? I don't want to rush you, but I'm really tired."

Carson nodded against his shoulder. "Right. Sorry."

"No, it's okay." They let each other go and Rodney stood, offering a hand to Carson. Carson shook his head and stood without help. "Come on." Rodney gestured toward the bedroom.

Carson followed him quietly. Rodney looked at the bed, then at Carson, then back at the bed again. Nervous, he kicked off his shoes then shrugged out of his shirt and trousers, still wearing his tee shirt and shorts. He sat on the bed and pulled his socks off. Carson watched him for a long moment then did the same.

"You-you're sure this is all right?" Carson asked, hesitant. Rodney tugged the covers down and got into bed. He gestured to Carson to join him.

"If it wasn't all right, I wouldn't have asked you to stay with me." His heart was moving fast with a flash of anxiety that this would fall apart somehow. He took a shaky breath.

Carson looked into his eyes and seemed to make a decision. He nodded and got under the covers with Rodney. "Thank you," he said. He seemed so subdued, and it worried Rodney. Carson lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling as Rodney thought the lights off. Rodney rolled onto his side, facing Carson.

"Are you gonna be able to sleep?" He watched Carson in the dim light from the window. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Carson's arm.

Carson shrugged. "I don't know." He turned his head to Rodney, but his face was in shadow. Rodney wondered if he was ever going to be the old Carson again.

"Would it help if, um, if I held you?" It was a hard question, but one he really had to ask.

Carson put a hand on his and nodded. "I think it might."

Rodney sighed and shifted a little closer to Carson, easing one arm around him. Carson's body was tense but relaxed slowly and he moved closer until their bodies touched from shoulder to ankle. Carson turned to face Rodney, slipping an arm around his waist. Rodney closed his eyes and held Carson close, kissing his hair gently. He hoped it was helping. Carson made a quiet sound and held on tightly. Rodney wrapped himself around Carson, legs tangled together, just being there with him.

It was a good feeling, and the bed warmed with the heat of their bodies. Rodney drifted into sleep with the soft hush of Carson's measured breathing against his cheek.

***

Carson jerked awake to the sound of terrified, unintelligible shouts. He snapped to full emergency alertness, flicking the lights on without a conscious thought, wondering what had happened. He was in Rodney's room, Rodney's bed, his heart pounding frantically. "Rodney? Rodney!"

Rodney was thrashing and crying out and Carson rolled over onto him, trying to still the flailing of his limbs. Rodney gasped and his eyes shot open. He looked disoriented for a moment then focused on Carson's face. "Oh, god," Rodney squeaked, and he clung to Carson desperately, shaking violently.

"Rodney?" Carson held him tightly as he shook. "Rodney, what happened?"

Rodney gasped, whimpering, "Ohgodohgod!"

"Rodney, talk to me!" His heart was still pounding fast and hard, and he rubbed Rodney's side as he held him.

Rodney sniffled and gasped again, tears running down his face. "Carson," he said, his voice rough and harsh.

"Please," Carson said, "come on, Rodney, just breathe." Rodney blinked and made an obvious effort to take a slow, deep breath. "That's right," Carson encouraged, speaking softly. "Come on, love, just breathe for me."

"Carson..." Rodney was panting, holding him so tight Carson could almost feel his ribs creaking.

"Easy, Rodney," Carson whispered. "It's all right." He could feel his doctor's instincts kicking back in as he checked Rodney over visually. He was shaken but didn't look hurt. It was probably a nightmare that had panicked him.

Rodney slipped one trembling hand to Carson's face, tracing his cheek. "Carson," he whispered again, his voice still rough. "Oh, god, you're alive."

Carson's heart ached at the pain in Rodney's eyes and his voice. "Aye," he said softly. "It's all right, Rodney. I'm here." He'd not realized that Rodney must have been having nightmares like this since he'd died. "It was just a nightmare," he reassured him. "I'm here. I'm alive. It's all right."

Rodney's arms wrapped around him again and he shifted his weight, rolling atop Carson, his body shaking as he cried quietly. Carson could feel the warmth of Rodney's tears running down his cheek, cooling as they trickled into his ear. He whispered soft words, repeating that he was here, he was alive, that they would be all right, and Rodney trembled as they clung together.

He petted Rodney's back and Rodney slowly stopped shaking so hard. "I... th-the explosion," Rodney stammered. "I saw..." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I couldn't even recognize your body," he whispered. "You were s-so badly burned." He choked back a sob, and Carson shuddered. "I keep seeing it," Rodney groaned, "keep seeing you like that. God, Carson, you were dead, you were dead." And then he was crying again, seemingly unable to stop.

Good Lord, Rodney had seen that? Carson could hardly imagine what that must have done to him. He shushed Rodney, whispering, "I'm alive, Rodney. I'm right here," and both of them were shaking now. Carson wept as well, aching for Rodney. All this time, he'd been trying to figure out whether he should even really be here, and Rodney had been hurting so badly. How had he not seen it? God, he'd been blind. He held Rodney tight, the two of them clinging together in the stark light of Rodney's room, and Carson kissed Rodney's face gently, tasting the salt of his tears.

Rodney gasped and kissed him back, pushing his tongue roughly into Carson's mouth. They kissed, fierce and hard, gasping as their hands moved on each other's bodies. Carson tried desperately to kiss Rodney's pain away. They sucked on each other's tongues, bit each other's lips, struggling for something more -- something deeper and more intimate.

Panting, Rodney groaned and buried his face against Carson's neck. "Oh, god," he whispered. "Oh, god, you're real." Carson's head fell back against the pillow and he thought his heart would break.

"I love you, Rodney," he murmured, suddenly realizing just how deeply he meant it. He shivered, trembling with the knowledge. "Oh, Lord, I love you." He held Rodney as they shook in each other's arms.

"Carson," Rodney whispered. He was sweating and his body was like a furnace from the distress of his nightmare and his trembling. "Carson."

"It's all right," Carson told him. "I'm here. We're going to be all right." He hoped with all his heart it would turn out to be true.

***

Carson sat at a back corner table in the mess hall, trying not to appear too nervous. People came up to him