AIYM, chapter three
Feb. 6th, 2005 02:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveOK, so we can officially call this, at the least, Beckett/McKay UST. And still rated PG13. Shorter than the others, but I feel like posting this now rather than waiting til I've finished chapter four. Just 'cause. I will be posting this to various lists and so on, when the story is finished and I know exactly how it needs be classified and categorised, But for anyone who just wants to read as is, here goes.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Alone in Your Mind
by James
CHAPTER THREE
A month later, Carson had found a what seemed to be a workable balance. Mornings he spent in the medical labs or infirmary, doing his research. After lunch he would head down to the maintenance workshop and tackle the list in his head. The number of red-lit urgencies had got down to almost zero and stayed that way for the last week, which Carson vastly appreciated. When he'd become a doctor, he'd grown used to being called at any hour of the day or night to deal with medical emergencies. Being called to deal with leaking pipes was a new and still-bewildering experience.
Even if Rodney told him that he was doing an unbelievable job. Carson wasn't entirely sure he liked the amount of disbelief he could hear in his friend's voice when he said it, but he knew Rodney meant it sincerely, in his own way. And he could tell he was doing a good job, since everything he tried to fix ended up more or less working better than it had before he touched it.
It was the maintenance interface that did it all, he'd try to tell them. He couldn't tell if anyone believed him, or even really cared who it was as long as they got new, working toys to play with.
At least Rodney never failed to show up to inspect his handiwork whenever he found out Carson was working on something. He'd stare in amazement and disbelief that Carson was making repairs to some Ancient Rube Goldberg device that only made sense if you had the schematics burning in a not-so-comforting blue in one's mind. He'd ask a question or two, then start rambling about the thing's uses and origins and whatever else popped into his head.
Even when it was a bit disconcerting, Carson had to admit he enjoyed that part of the whole 'repair tech' thing. Since Rodney had started dating John, he hadn't seen nearly as much of his friend as he'd grown used to. True, it made other things more difficult -- jealous and regret were high on his list. But it was nice to have Rodney's attention, even for things that made Carson feel lost and out of his depth.
The mass of 'repair groupies', as Sheppard had dubbed them, had more or less stopped trying to follow him around during the afternoons. They still asked for reports and asked no end of questions whenever they could -- usually in the mess hall during meals. As soon as he'd sat down to eat, someone or three would show up and go at him. He tried to answer their questions as best he could, but he wished there was a way for anyone but him to talk to Murdoc.
Murdoc was the name he'd given the maintenance interface, knowing full well calling it by a name would fool him into thinking of the thing as having a personality that it didn't have. But he felt foolish thinking of it as "maintenance interface" all the time, and "MI" just sounded worse. Murdoc responded to its name easily enough, and Carson thought that having it to talk to was no more odd than having a pet cat that one pretended cared at all about one's day and not the box of food one was holding.
All in all, Carson thought he was getting used to it. He had twice the amount of work to do, of course, and never had any privacy at all. But given that things could have been a while lot worse, he supposed things were not all that bad.
Then he found the ZPMs on the maintenance list.
****************
Dr Weir was sitting in her office with Rodney, John, and Peter, discussing the new and not-so improved duty schedules. They were all trying to juggle personnel with an even more limited availability. This time, at least, it wasn't due to deaths. Two of the scientists had requested permission to move to the Athosian village, permanently. One was due to Nancy wanting to devote more time studying their culture and one was due to Geoff wanting to court and hopefully marry a certain Athosian woman. Weir had given her permission, and now they were trying to shuffle people around again.
She hadn't quite figured out why John was sitting in on the meeting, as neither of the sections affected were military. But here he was, and he wasn't being that annoying, so Weir had let him stay. She suspected there was some footsie going on under the table but she wasn't about to look.
They had all looked over when Carson came into the room, carrying two ZPMs. Rodney was on his feet instantly, and Weir had caught an unfortunate glimpse of his stockinged foot.
"What's wrong?" Rodney asked, taking one of the ZPMs from Carson. "What are you--" He stopped and they all stared as Rodney held up the ZPM.
As it glowed.
They all turned to Carson, who shrugged. "It came up on the list. Actually, I jumped ahead about twelve items but I didn't really think anyone would mind if I didn't fix the heaters in section Baggan, as no one's living there at the moment."
Weir and the others stared at him for a moment, then all turned again to stare at the working ZPM in Rodney's hands. Peter slowly reached down and took the other ZPM from Carson's hands. They all watched, stunned, as he turned it on.
Rodney looked up. "We'll go install these now, if that's all right with everyone?"
Weir nodded, looking at Carson as Rodney, Peter, and John practically ran out of the room. Carson half-turned to say something after them, but stopped as the door closed behind John. He turned to face her again, and Weir shook her head.
"What.. how--?"
"I've been working on them all week. I didn't want to... say anything because I didn't think it would actually work. But it did." He looked uncertain, shuffling a bit, before saying, "I actually came here to tell you that those were extras."
Weir sat back in her chair and tried to think about that.
She tried again.
She tried a third time, then had to look at Carson. She needed to *hear* it, in order to let her mind think those words.
Carson nodded. "The first one I installed. We have power for the city, and those two, I figured.. we can power up the stargate and dial Earth. Take the other one through and use it to dial back."
She blinked. Those were the exact words she hadn't wanted to risk thinking. Even now, they rolled in her brain like something she couldn't quite trust. But she knew Carson, and knew he wouldn't have come in here with them unless it was real. She glanced towards the door. "Should we tell Rodney...?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. He'll figure it out soon enough, then they'll be back up here." Carson took a seat, across from the table, looking rather calm and collected -- except around the eyes, and the way he couldn't hold his hands still.
Weir nodded, because acting like everything was fine was an old diplomacy trick she'd absorbed decades ago. She folded her hands across her desk, and regarded Carson. He looked like he was about to leap out of the chair again.
"So," she began, and he flinched slightly before turning wide eyes on her. She had to do something other than scream.
"Aye?"
"I hear that Marjorie Stevens wants to set up some nursing classes."
***********
They talked about it. Everyone on Atlantis, for days. Whenever Carson walked down the hallway, anyone he passed would give him a thumbs-up, or a hearty clap on the shoulder. All anyone could talk about was Earth -- what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go. Supplies they wanted to bring back because they'd been stupid enough not to pack any, or enough, the first time.
Beer and lube were the two items mentioned most often. Carson tried to just smile and nod, and get out of the way.
Finally, decisions had been made and Weir had made the announcement. They had enough power to send a message back to Earth in addition to powering the gate twice, for travel. They'd warn the SGC they were coming, then they'd dial Earth and go home. Four weeks' leave for everyone, then back again to Atlantis with new supplies and -- most importantly and hence the warning message -- additional personnel.
They were planning to go back a week from now, and everyone was running about like it was tomorrow. Folks were winding down experiments, or setting them up to go on unattended for a month. There was packing, and unpacking, and plans made and changed and unmade only to be made again. Everyone was excited, thrilled beyond belief.
Except Carson. He watched them all, listened to them talk about their plans for leave. He thought about Scotland and Earth and his mum's home cooking. And he smiled and nodded and said things like 'that sounds like a good idea' whenever anyone told him what they wanted to do.
It hadn't taken long for him to figure out no one remembered. He couldn't decide how to tell Dr Weir, or anybody; sometimes he even thought about not telling them at all. Stand back and toss through a note, so they'd not think he'd been trapped in the wormhole or dropped on the ramp of heart attack. He felt that was cowardly -- but he knew if he tried to remind Dr Weir beforehand, that she would ask for volunteers to stay. She'd even volunteer, herself, and Carson knew she had too much to do back on Earth.
Everyone was so excited about going home. Weir, herself, had to go if only because she had to vet all the new personnel and get them briefed. Even Teyla was going, to be shown Earth and to help with selecting personnel. John had been the one to convince her of that, pointing out with surprising sincerity that she was good with people, and had good instincts when it came to judging them.
Carson didn't want to be the one to make anyone stay in Atlantis, just to keep him company. It wasn't as though there wasn't a whole town of Athosians nearby, anyhow. But the more he saw everyone getting ready, the more he felt like... doing something. He had no idea what. Pulling someone aside and just asking -- "Do you know I can't go with you?"
The maintenance interface didn't get turned off. He'd explained, when it had first connected with him. He couldn't turn it off, couldn't remove it. He couldn't even leave the planet without his head blowing up -- he'd assigned Dr Hathaway as the main emergency physician for just that reason. But no one had remembered that, it was clear to him. They asked him what his plans were, and he deflected their inquires by asking the same, and listening to vacation plans and stories of families and movies and sleeping on real, Earth mattresses.
He watched them prepare, and smiled back when they thanked him, and sat in his quarters at night in the dark, and stared at the walls covered in gaelic script and diagrams that only he could see.
He thought about Earth, and home, and let the scroll of technical blueprints distract him into thinking about what he might do, tomorrow.
*********
The day after, he was in his quarters again. Same wall, new diagrams and schematics. He'd spent the entire day in the upper reaches of the mormot tower, tinkering on the air quality detection sensors. Nothing from the top of his list, but he'd found that as long as nothing was glowing urgent-red, he was pretty much free to pick anything he liked, without Murdoc blinking another item from the list at him when he tried to pick something else.
He'd managed to avoid almost everybody by packing his lunch along and getting back very late for dinner. He'd grabbed something -- still not sure what it was -- and headed back to his room to eat.
And sulk, if he were being thoroughly honest with himself. It was hard not to, surrounded by people all caught up in the good news. He tried to focus on the fact he'd be able to get quite a lot of work done. With no one around there would be no medical emergencies to keep him in the infirmary. He'd be able to spend all his time with his mechanic's tool-belt -- and do it *without* his 'repair-groupies.'
Murdoc seemed to approve of those plans, offering a variety of work schedules for him to consider. There were several things to be done in the lower sections of the city, where he hadn't ventured to yet. Dr Weir hadn't wanted him going alone into areas of the city they hadn't secured yet, and she hadn't the time or personnel to devote to doing so just so he could work on something they weren't actively in need of.
But he could stick to areas that weren't remotely dangerous, like the public arts halls, and the museums. Or, if he wanted to avoid getting a lecture at all from Dr Weir when she returned, he could easily fill his time staying right in the center of the city. Without anyone around he could even get to some of the items in the control center -- trivial enough though they were, he hadn't wanted to tackle them with *everyone* standing around staring at him.
It would be better to do it when everyone was gone, and he was here alone. Carson rolled over on his bed, the staring at a new wall, but the same display. He wished he could turn it off, but all he could do was dim it a little. Only when there was nothing to be repaired did the duty scroll vanish completely, and from the records he'd seen that happened only once in a while. Something always broke down, or needed a tune-up.
He told himself it was good that at least he would never get bored. He rubbed at his eyes and tried not to think about sitting in his parent's living room as a boy, spread out on the floor while the snows kept them all trapped safely inside. Whinging about being bored until his father suggested a list of chores he could do. His mum would take turns whose side she would be on, sometimes offering to take him into the kitchen to let him help with some baking, or sending him sternly off to tidy his room.
Carson took a slow, shuddering breath and tried to think about maintenance work. Or Wraith -- he could work on his studies there and not have to worry about sharing the equipment. He could do *anything*, even run down the halls in his socks and not a stitch else.
There was a knock on his door, and Carson thought it open without rolling over to see who it was.
"Oh, good, you're awake."
He listened as Rodney walked over and found something to sit on, near the bed. He felt the slight dip as Rodney propped a foot on the mattress, but he still didn't look over. He waited until he could surreptitiously wipe his face dry before facing his friend.
"We wondered if there were any other spare ZPMs around and if you'd have time to get 'em fixed up and don't think I've forgotten that you haven't shared that interesting little tidbit with me on how you did that or why you didn't mention that you could do it so I could watch. The SGC might need a spare, but really we were thinking that if we had two more -- really if we could get them repaired regularly and believe me when I say I will be watching the next time -- we could schedule regular trips back to Earth and rotate personnel. Well, that part was Elizabeth's idea but I think it's a good one especially if I can get Kavanaugh to stay home and replace him with a gerbil. Or a ferret would be good, because at least those can be trained to fetch, and they chew on things and smell bad but that's a vast improvement, don't you think?"
Carson didn't answer, recognising the high-velocity spiel and knowing there was no need to interrupt, or even look like he was listening.
"When she had all the head of staff put in their requests for new personnel I specifically asked that he be replaced, though I didn't actually ask for a gerbil -- but it probably isn't too late. I wonder if Sam Carter would want to come, if she knew she'd be able to get back to Earth? That would be fantastic, can you imagine the amount of research we could get accomplished? And I know Dr Jackson will be here as long as Jack knows he'll get him back. God, I hope O'Niell doesn't decide to come with him, no offense to the Colonel but I think I'd rather have Kavanaugh...OK, no, I really wouldn't."
Carson didn't say anything as Rodney kept talking. Instead his thoughts seized on the thing Rodney had said, buried in the middle of all that babble. Return trips -- trips, plural. The people on Atlantis could go back, regularly. Some would eventually stay behind, be replaced with new faces. It would be as routine as any other military base in some far reach -- no further than Antarctica, and Carson had been able to fly home twice during his assignment there.
He wanted to shout at Rodney to shut up and go away, but his held his tongue. Rodney was talking about some theory of his that he wanted Dr Carter to work on with him -- something about the stargates.
He mentally brushed aside the flash of diagram that appeared, and rolled over to glare at Rodney. "Was there something you wanted?" he demanded, remembering only as he spoke what Rodney's original question was. "Yes, there is another spare ZPM and yes, I imagine I can fix it. No, you can't watch unless you stop talking at me!"
Rodney was staring at him, his mouth hanging open. Carson realised that he'd raised his voice and tried to calm himself down.
"I'm sorry. It's been a really long day and I'm tired. But you can tell Dr Weir that having ZPMs for regular gate-travel back to Earth is...well, I'll actually have to look into it and see how often they can actually be recharged. There were spares listed on the inventory but they're not in the storage facility so I don't know what's happened to them."
"O...OK," Rodney said, quietly. He nodded once, and tensed as though about to stand up to leave.
Sighing, Carson said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's all right. I do tend to go on. And on, and on. I would say it's a fault but really I find it a strength -- the ability to talk until I drop from exhaustion. I-- right, you're tired. I.. should go, then."
He ought to tell Rodney he could stay -- apologise for his rudeness by letting Rodney go on with whatever he was talking about. But Carson didn't think he could stand any more company -- especially not that of someone who was, when he left Carson's room, going down the hallway into another man's quarters.
When Carson said nothing, Rodney got awkwardly to his feet. He took a step towards the door, then stopped and asked, "So.. you're going to Glasgow, then? See your mum?"
Carson looked up at him, confused by the change of topic. "I'm sorry?"
Rodney shrugged. "I don't remember you telling me your plans, but usually you go back to Glasgow when you get leave. Maybe I can swing by and you can show me that Lion's Den pub you always talked about."
"Lion's Head," Carson corrected him, automatically.
"Right. So...That's where you'll be? John and I are going to spend a week in California, but I'm going to take some time to go visit my sister. By myself, I mean -- I don't know how she'd feel with me showing up on her doorstep with a boyfriend in tow. No need to make an awkward family reunion any worse." Rodney smiled, hesitantly.
Carson nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." The words felt tired, and he just wanted Rodney to go.
"Depending on how that goes I may or may not be spending a lot of time with her. But I've left the whole third week open for spontaneous plans -- so, maybe we can hook up then?" Rodney asked.
"No," Carson said, shaking his head.
Rodney stared at him again, jaw once more hanging open. From the look in his eyes it was clear Carson had hurt his feelings. "No?"
Closing his eyes -- then opening them again when that really didn't help him not see anything -- Carson said again, "No." His voice broke, and he wiped at his eyes. His whole body was starting to shake and he tried to pull himself together.
"You're not going to Glasgow?" Rodney's voice had an edge of hope to it.
"I'm not going to Glasgow. I'm not going anywhere," he added, and it was something of a relief to actually say those words out loud.
"You're not going?" Rodney looked at him, and the hurt was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion.
Carson held up his arm. Rodney looked at it -- at the maintenance band glowing on Carson's wrist.
"Because...you have work to do?"
"Because if I leave the planet my head explodes, remember? Safety feature to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands?" He was almost shouting again, only avoiding it because he was crying. "I can't go home, I can't go to Glasgow or the pubs or my mum's or anywhere on Earth!"
He rolled over again, not wanting Rodney to see his face. Too late for that, he knew, but he had to do something to regain whatever control he could.
He felt the bed dip, and Rodney's hand was on his shoulder.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is, listening to everyone's plans for what they're going to do while they're on Earth? Talking about vacations and seeing their families and eating bread that hasn't been freeze-dried and carried halfway across the universe? And now you come and tell me you'll all be doing it often -- as often as I can arrange it, repairing the ZPMs for you so you can go home--"
He couldn't speak anymore, had barely got the last few words out. Rodney's arm slid around him, pulling him slightly backwards into an embrace.
"God, Carson. I... forgot. We all forgot, I guess."
He nodded. "I know. People keep asking me what I'm going to do." Which had only made it so much worse, since he couldn't help but think about what he wished he could do, more than anything.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I didn't want... Everybody was so excited about going home. And there's nothing anyone *can* do. It's not like you can wrap my head in a bag to keep my brains from going everywhere when I leave."
"But there's go to be something we can do." Rodney fell silent, going over all the possibilities.
Ones that Carson had already gone over, to no avail. "There's nothing to do," he repeated, taking a deep breath and finally feeling like he was no longer going to fall apart.
"But-- you can't stay here alone."
"I won't be alone -- not completely. The Athosians aren't that far away, and I can get there easily enough." He turned, not meaning to dislodge Rodney's arm, and feeling a chill when Rodney moved away. "But I don't want anyone to think they have to stay here, with me. I'm a grown man -- I can spend a few weeks by myself without burning down the house."
The corner of Rodney's mouth quirked. "Unlike when you were five."
Carson glared, though he didn't really feel annoyed. He'd said it deliberately to distract Rodney from what couldn't be fixed. "It was there own fault for leaving me alone--"
"For, what was it? Ten minutes?"
"I was five years old," he repeated. "What did they think would happen?"
"That you'd behave, and not try to turn on the stove?"
"Aye, well, they were wrong, weren't they?"
Rodney grinned. "They were. Which doesn't say much for us leaving you in Atlantis by yourself. God knows the trouble you can get into." He'd said it lightly, but from the set of his face Carson knew his friend was thinking about all the real emergencies that could happen.
"We've already decided to submerge the city again, to protect it from anything that might happen by," Carson reminded him. "I'll be fine."
"And when you fall down the stairs and break your neck?"
He rolled his eyes, glad he'd thought this through as well. He could, he knew, spend the month with the Athosians. But he didn't want to -- which surprised him a little. "I'll stay in daily radio contact with the Athosians. They can come rescue me if I fall down the stairs."
"And how will they get here?"
Carson opened his mouth, then closed it. All right, so he hadn't completely figured that one out. He'd been assuming he wouldn't actually get into any trouble.
He didn't like the thoughtful look on Rodney's face, though. He glared, this time meaning it. "I'm not going to make anyone stay with me. What if I can't get any more ZPMs working? This will be the only chance you get to go home. I'm not going to make someone miss that."
Rodney turned his head, meeting his gaze. Carson felt himself caught in it, realising that he was only inches away. When Rodney stared at you, really looked *at* you rather than merely looking around while he talked, there was an intensity that caught you up and didn't let you go.
Swallowing nervously, Carson leant back and tried to not think things he had no right to be thinking. "It will be all right, Rodney," he said again, and he tried to sound as calm and accepting of that as he could.
"Hmm," was all Rodney said, and Carson took that as a bad sign. He was thinking, and there would be no way Carson would be able to dissuade him from whatever decision he made.
"No one needs to stay," he tried anyway.
"Oh, I know," Rodney said, surprising him a little. "But we'll see what Elizabeth says--"
"No!" Carson grabbed his arm. "You know she'll ask someone to stay behind. Rodney, if we don't find any more ZPMs, then this will be the only chance people get. I'll not be responsible for someone missing out on going home."
Rodney closed his hand over Carson's, patting it once rather than moving it away as Carson expected. "OK."
He blinked. "OK?"
"OK," Rodney repeated, nodding his head and looking for all the world like he meant it.
Carson didn't trust him, but -- Rodney didn't have a tendency to outright lie. Exaggerate, maybe, but not actually lie.
"I should go," Rodney said, standing up but not really moving away. "You'll be all right?"
"Of course," he said, knowing that they both meant for now, and for the month ahead. Rodney seemed oddly subdued as he nodded, accepting Carson's reassurance.
But he turned and headed for the door, and Carson watched him go without calling him back.
Asking him if he wouldn't like to stay behind and learn how to repair all those gizmos and doodads that he could never remember the proper names for, no matter how often Carson pronounced them for him. But he kept silent, and watched Rodney leave.
Then he laid back down on his bed, looked up at the ceiling, and watched the list of repair jobs scroll slowly by.
***********
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Alone in Your Mind
by James
CHAPTER THREE
A month later, Carson had found a what seemed to be a workable balance. Mornings he spent in the medical labs or infirmary, doing his research. After lunch he would head down to the maintenance workshop and tackle the list in his head. The number of red-lit urgencies had got down to almost zero and stayed that way for the last week, which Carson vastly appreciated. When he'd become a doctor, he'd grown used to being called at any hour of the day or night to deal with medical emergencies. Being called to deal with leaking pipes was a new and still-bewildering experience.
Even if Rodney told him that he was doing an unbelievable job. Carson wasn't entirely sure he liked the amount of disbelief he could hear in his friend's voice when he said it, but he knew Rodney meant it sincerely, in his own way. And he could tell he was doing a good job, since everything he tried to fix ended up more or less working better than it had before he touched it.
It was the maintenance interface that did it all, he'd try to tell them. He couldn't tell if anyone believed him, or even really cared who it was as long as they got new, working toys to play with.
At least Rodney never failed to show up to inspect his handiwork whenever he found out Carson was working on something. He'd stare in amazement and disbelief that Carson was making repairs to some Ancient Rube Goldberg device that only made sense if you had the schematics burning in a not-so-comforting blue in one's mind. He'd ask a question or two, then start rambling about the thing's uses and origins and whatever else popped into his head.
Even when it was a bit disconcerting, Carson had to admit he enjoyed that part of the whole 'repair tech' thing. Since Rodney had started dating John, he hadn't seen nearly as much of his friend as he'd grown used to. True, it made other things more difficult -- jealous and regret were high on his list. But it was nice to have Rodney's attention, even for things that made Carson feel lost and out of his depth.
The mass of 'repair groupies', as Sheppard had dubbed them, had more or less stopped trying to follow him around during the afternoons. They still asked for reports and asked no end of questions whenever they could -- usually in the mess hall during meals. As soon as he'd sat down to eat, someone or three would show up and go at him. He tried to answer their questions as best he could, but he wished there was a way for anyone but him to talk to Murdoc.
Murdoc was the name he'd given the maintenance interface, knowing full well calling it by a name would fool him into thinking of the thing as having a personality that it didn't have. But he felt foolish thinking of it as "maintenance interface" all the time, and "MI" just sounded worse. Murdoc responded to its name easily enough, and Carson thought that having it to talk to was no more odd than having a pet cat that one pretended cared at all about one's day and not the box of food one was holding.
All in all, Carson thought he was getting used to it. He had twice the amount of work to do, of course, and never had any privacy at all. But given that things could have been a while lot worse, he supposed things were not all that bad.
Then he found the ZPMs on the maintenance list.
****************
Dr Weir was sitting in her office with Rodney, John, and Peter, discussing the new and not-so improved duty schedules. They were all trying to juggle personnel with an even more limited availability. This time, at least, it wasn't due to deaths. Two of the scientists had requested permission to move to the Athosian village, permanently. One was due to Nancy wanting to devote more time studying their culture and one was due to Geoff wanting to court and hopefully marry a certain Athosian woman. Weir had given her permission, and now they were trying to shuffle people around again.
She hadn't quite figured out why John was sitting in on the meeting, as neither of the sections affected were military. But here he was, and he wasn't being that annoying, so Weir had let him stay. She suspected there was some footsie going on under the table but she wasn't about to look.
They had all looked over when Carson came into the room, carrying two ZPMs. Rodney was on his feet instantly, and Weir had caught an unfortunate glimpse of his stockinged foot.
"What's wrong?" Rodney asked, taking one of the ZPMs from Carson. "What are you--" He stopped and they all stared as Rodney held up the ZPM.
As it glowed.
They all turned to Carson, who shrugged. "It came up on the list. Actually, I jumped ahead about twelve items but I didn't really think anyone would mind if I didn't fix the heaters in section Baggan, as no one's living there at the moment."
Weir and the others stared at him for a moment, then all turned again to stare at the working ZPM in Rodney's hands. Peter slowly reached down and took the other ZPM from Carson's hands. They all watched, stunned, as he turned it on.
Rodney looked up. "We'll go install these now, if that's all right with everyone?"
Weir nodded, looking at Carson as Rodney, Peter, and John practically ran out of the room. Carson half-turned to say something after them, but stopped as the door closed behind John. He turned to face her again, and Weir shook her head.
"What.. how--?"
"I've been working on them all week. I didn't want to... say anything because I didn't think it would actually work. But it did." He looked uncertain, shuffling a bit, before saying, "I actually came here to tell you that those were extras."
Weir sat back in her chair and tried to think about that.
She tried again.
She tried a third time, then had to look at Carson. She needed to *hear* it, in order to let her mind think those words.
Carson nodded. "The first one I installed. We have power for the city, and those two, I figured.. we can power up the stargate and dial Earth. Take the other one through and use it to dial back."
She blinked. Those were the exact words she hadn't wanted to risk thinking. Even now, they rolled in her brain like something she couldn't quite trust. But she knew Carson, and knew he wouldn't have come in here with them unless it was real. She glanced towards the door. "Should we tell Rodney...?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about it. He'll figure it out soon enough, then they'll be back up here." Carson took a seat, across from the table, looking rather calm and collected -- except around the eyes, and the way he couldn't hold his hands still.
Weir nodded, because acting like everything was fine was an old diplomacy trick she'd absorbed decades ago. She folded her hands across her desk, and regarded Carson. He looked like he was about to leap out of the chair again.
"So," she began, and he flinched slightly before turning wide eyes on her. She had to do something other than scream.
"Aye?"
"I hear that Marjorie Stevens wants to set up some nursing classes."
***********
They talked about it. Everyone on Atlantis, for days. Whenever Carson walked down the hallway, anyone he passed would give him a thumbs-up, or a hearty clap on the shoulder. All anyone could talk about was Earth -- what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go. Supplies they wanted to bring back because they'd been stupid enough not to pack any, or enough, the first time.
Beer and lube were the two items mentioned most often. Carson tried to just smile and nod, and get out of the way.
Finally, decisions had been made and Weir had made the announcement. They had enough power to send a message back to Earth in addition to powering the gate twice, for travel. They'd warn the SGC they were coming, then they'd dial Earth and go home. Four weeks' leave for everyone, then back again to Atlantis with new supplies and -- most importantly and hence the warning message -- additional personnel.
They were planning to go back a week from now, and everyone was running about like it was tomorrow. Folks were winding down experiments, or setting them up to go on unattended for a month. There was packing, and unpacking, and plans made and changed and unmade only to be made again. Everyone was excited, thrilled beyond belief.
Except Carson. He watched them all, listened to them talk about their plans for leave. He thought about Scotland and Earth and his mum's home cooking. And he smiled and nodded and said things like 'that sounds like a good idea' whenever anyone told him what they wanted to do.
It hadn't taken long for him to figure out no one remembered. He couldn't decide how to tell Dr Weir, or anybody; sometimes he even thought about not telling them at all. Stand back and toss through a note, so they'd not think he'd been trapped in the wormhole or dropped on the ramp of heart attack. He felt that was cowardly -- but he knew if he tried to remind Dr Weir beforehand, that she would ask for volunteers to stay. She'd even volunteer, herself, and Carson knew she had too much to do back on Earth.
Everyone was so excited about going home. Weir, herself, had to go if only because she had to vet all the new personnel and get them briefed. Even Teyla was going, to be shown Earth and to help with selecting personnel. John had been the one to convince her of that, pointing out with surprising sincerity that she was good with people, and had good instincts when it came to judging them.
Carson didn't want to be the one to make anyone stay in Atlantis, just to keep him company. It wasn't as though there wasn't a whole town of Athosians nearby, anyhow. But the more he saw everyone getting ready, the more he felt like... doing something. He had no idea what. Pulling someone aside and just asking -- "Do you know I can't go with you?"
The maintenance interface didn't get turned off. He'd explained, when it had first connected with him. He couldn't turn it off, couldn't remove it. He couldn't even leave the planet without his head blowing up -- he'd assigned Dr Hathaway as the main emergency physician for just that reason. But no one had remembered that, it was clear to him. They asked him what his plans were, and he deflected their inquires by asking the same, and listening to vacation plans and stories of families and movies and sleeping on real, Earth mattresses.
He watched them prepare, and smiled back when they thanked him, and sat in his quarters at night in the dark, and stared at the walls covered in gaelic script and diagrams that only he could see.
He thought about Earth, and home, and let the scroll of technical blueprints distract him into thinking about what he might do, tomorrow.
*********
The day after, he was in his quarters again. Same wall, new diagrams and schematics. He'd spent the entire day in the upper reaches of the mormot tower, tinkering on the air quality detection sensors. Nothing from the top of his list, but he'd found that as long as nothing was glowing urgent-red, he was pretty much free to pick anything he liked, without Murdoc blinking another item from the list at him when he tried to pick something else.
He'd managed to avoid almost everybody by packing his lunch along and getting back very late for dinner. He'd grabbed something -- still not sure what it was -- and headed back to his room to eat.
And sulk, if he were being thoroughly honest with himself. It was hard not to, surrounded by people all caught up in the good news. He tried to focus on the fact he'd be able to get quite a lot of work done. With no one around there would be no medical emergencies to keep him in the infirmary. He'd be able to spend all his time with his mechanic's tool-belt -- and do it *without* his 'repair-groupies.'
Murdoc seemed to approve of those plans, offering a variety of work schedules for him to consider. There were several things to be done in the lower sections of the city, where he hadn't ventured to yet. Dr Weir hadn't wanted him going alone into areas of the city they hadn't secured yet, and she hadn't the time or personnel to devote to doing so just so he could work on something they weren't actively in need of.
But he could stick to areas that weren't remotely dangerous, like the public arts halls, and the museums. Or, if he wanted to avoid getting a lecture at all from Dr Weir when she returned, he could easily fill his time staying right in the center of the city. Without anyone around he could even get to some of the items in the control center -- trivial enough though they were, he hadn't wanted to tackle them with *everyone* standing around staring at him.
It would be better to do it when everyone was gone, and he was here alone. Carson rolled over on his bed, the staring at a new wall, but the same display. He wished he could turn it off, but all he could do was dim it a little. Only when there was nothing to be repaired did the duty scroll vanish completely, and from the records he'd seen that happened only once in a while. Something always broke down, or needed a tune-up.
He told himself it was good that at least he would never get bored. He rubbed at his eyes and tried not to think about sitting in his parent's living room as a boy, spread out on the floor while the snows kept them all trapped safely inside. Whinging about being bored until his father suggested a list of chores he could do. His mum would take turns whose side she would be on, sometimes offering to take him into the kitchen to let him help with some baking, or sending him sternly off to tidy his room.
Carson took a slow, shuddering breath and tried to think about maintenance work. Or Wraith -- he could work on his studies there and not have to worry about sharing the equipment. He could do *anything*, even run down the halls in his socks and not a stitch else.
There was a knock on his door, and Carson thought it open without rolling over to see who it was.
"Oh, good, you're awake."
He listened as Rodney walked over and found something to sit on, near the bed. He felt the slight dip as Rodney propped a foot on the mattress, but he still didn't look over. He waited until he could surreptitiously wipe his face dry before facing his friend.
"We wondered if there were any other spare ZPMs around and if you'd have time to get 'em fixed up and don't think I've forgotten that you haven't shared that interesting little tidbit with me on how you did that or why you didn't mention that you could do it so I could watch. The SGC might need a spare, but really we were thinking that if we had two more -- really if we could get them repaired regularly and believe me when I say I will be watching the next time -- we could schedule regular trips back to Earth and rotate personnel. Well, that part was Elizabeth's idea but I think it's a good one especially if I can get Kavanaugh to stay home and replace him with a gerbil. Or a ferret would be good, because at least those can be trained to fetch, and they chew on things and smell bad but that's a vast improvement, don't you think?"
Carson didn't answer, recognising the high-velocity spiel and knowing there was no need to interrupt, or even look like he was listening.
"When she had all the head of staff put in their requests for new personnel I specifically asked that he be replaced, though I didn't actually ask for a gerbil -- but it probably isn't too late. I wonder if Sam Carter would want to come, if she knew she'd be able to get back to Earth? That would be fantastic, can you imagine the amount of research we could get accomplished? And I know Dr Jackson will be here as long as Jack knows he'll get him back. God, I hope O'Niell doesn't decide to come with him, no offense to the Colonel but I think I'd rather have Kavanaugh...OK, no, I really wouldn't."
Carson didn't say anything as Rodney kept talking. Instead his thoughts seized on the thing Rodney had said, buried in the middle of all that babble. Return trips -- trips, plural. The people on Atlantis could go back, regularly. Some would eventually stay behind, be replaced with new faces. It would be as routine as any other military base in some far reach -- no further than Antarctica, and Carson had been able to fly home twice during his assignment there.
He wanted to shout at Rodney to shut up and go away, but his held his tongue. Rodney was talking about some theory of his that he wanted Dr Carter to work on with him -- something about the stargates.
He mentally brushed aside the flash of diagram that appeared, and rolled over to glare at Rodney. "Was there something you wanted?" he demanded, remembering only as he spoke what Rodney's original question was. "Yes, there is another spare ZPM and yes, I imagine I can fix it. No, you can't watch unless you stop talking at me!"
Rodney was staring at him, his mouth hanging open. Carson realised that he'd raised his voice and tried to calm himself down.
"I'm sorry. It's been a really long day and I'm tired. But you can tell Dr Weir that having ZPMs for regular gate-travel back to Earth is...well, I'll actually have to look into it and see how often they can actually be recharged. There were spares listed on the inventory but they're not in the storage facility so I don't know what's happened to them."
"O...OK," Rodney said, quietly. He nodded once, and tensed as though about to stand up to leave.
Sighing, Carson said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."
"It's all right. I do tend to go on. And on, and on. I would say it's a fault but really I find it a strength -- the ability to talk until I drop from exhaustion. I-- right, you're tired. I.. should go, then."
He ought to tell Rodney he could stay -- apologise for his rudeness by letting Rodney go on with whatever he was talking about. But Carson didn't think he could stand any more company -- especially not that of someone who was, when he left Carson's room, going down the hallway into another man's quarters.
When Carson said nothing, Rodney got awkwardly to his feet. He took a step towards the door, then stopped and asked, "So.. you're going to Glasgow, then? See your mum?"
Carson looked up at him, confused by the change of topic. "I'm sorry?"
Rodney shrugged. "I don't remember you telling me your plans, but usually you go back to Glasgow when you get leave. Maybe I can swing by and you can show me that Lion's Den pub you always talked about."
"Lion's Head," Carson corrected him, automatically.
"Right. So...That's where you'll be? John and I are going to spend a week in California, but I'm going to take some time to go visit my sister. By myself, I mean -- I don't know how she'd feel with me showing up on her doorstep with a boyfriend in tow. No need to make an awkward family reunion any worse." Rodney smiled, hesitantly.
Carson nodded. "That sounds like a good idea." The words felt tired, and he just wanted Rodney to go.
"Depending on how that goes I may or may not be spending a lot of time with her. But I've left the whole third week open for spontaneous plans -- so, maybe we can hook up then?" Rodney asked.
"No," Carson said, shaking his head.
Rodney stared at him again, jaw once more hanging open. From the look in his eyes it was clear Carson had hurt his feelings. "No?"
Closing his eyes -- then opening them again when that really didn't help him not see anything -- Carson said again, "No." His voice broke, and he wiped at his eyes. His whole body was starting to shake and he tried to pull himself together.
"You're not going to Glasgow?" Rodney's voice had an edge of hope to it.
"I'm not going to Glasgow. I'm not going anywhere," he added, and it was something of a relief to actually say those words out loud.
"You're not going?" Rodney looked at him, and the hurt was gone from his voice, replaced by confusion.
Carson held up his arm. Rodney looked at it -- at the maintenance band glowing on Carson's wrist.
"Because...you have work to do?"
"Because if I leave the planet my head explodes, remember? Safety feature to prevent the information from falling into the wrong hands?" He was almost shouting again, only avoiding it because he was crying. "I can't go home, I can't go to Glasgow or the pubs or my mum's or anywhere on Earth!"
He rolled over again, not wanting Rodney to see his face. Too late for that, he knew, but he had to do something to regain whatever control he could.
He felt the bed dip, and Rodney's hand was on his shoulder.
"Do you have any idea how hard it is, listening to everyone's plans for what they're going to do while they're on Earth? Talking about vacations and seeing their families and eating bread that hasn't been freeze-dried and carried halfway across the universe? And now you come and tell me you'll all be doing it often -- as often as I can arrange it, repairing the ZPMs for you so you can go home--"
He couldn't speak anymore, had barely got the last few words out. Rodney's arm slid around him, pulling him slightly backwards into an embrace.
"God, Carson. I... forgot. We all forgot, I guess."
He nodded. "I know. People keep asking me what I'm going to do." Which had only made it so much worse, since he couldn't help but think about what he wished he could do, more than anything.
"Why didn't you say something?"
"I didn't want... Everybody was so excited about going home. And there's nothing anyone *can* do. It's not like you can wrap my head in a bag to keep my brains from going everywhere when I leave."
"But there's go to be something we can do." Rodney fell silent, going over all the possibilities.
Ones that Carson had already gone over, to no avail. "There's nothing to do," he repeated, taking a deep breath and finally feeling like he was no longer going to fall apart.
"But-- you can't stay here alone."
"I won't be alone -- not completely. The Athosians aren't that far away, and I can get there easily enough." He turned, not meaning to dislodge Rodney's arm, and feeling a chill when Rodney moved away. "But I don't want anyone to think they have to stay here, with me. I'm a grown man -- I can spend a few weeks by myself without burning down the house."
The corner of Rodney's mouth quirked. "Unlike when you were five."
Carson glared, though he didn't really feel annoyed. He'd said it deliberately to distract Rodney from what couldn't be fixed. "It was there own fault for leaving me alone--"
"For, what was it? Ten minutes?"
"I was five years old," he repeated. "What did they think would happen?"
"That you'd behave, and not try to turn on the stove?"
"Aye, well, they were wrong, weren't they?"
Rodney grinned. "They were. Which doesn't say much for us leaving you in Atlantis by yourself. God knows the trouble you can get into." He'd said it lightly, but from the set of his face Carson knew his friend was thinking about all the real emergencies that could happen.
"We've already decided to submerge the city again, to protect it from anything that might happen by," Carson reminded him. "I'll be fine."
"And when you fall down the stairs and break your neck?"
He rolled his eyes, glad he'd thought this through as well. He could, he knew, spend the month with the Athosians. But he didn't want to -- which surprised him a little. "I'll stay in daily radio contact with the Athosians. They can come rescue me if I fall down the stairs."
"And how will they get here?"
Carson opened his mouth, then closed it. All right, so he hadn't completely figured that one out. He'd been assuming he wouldn't actually get into any trouble.
He didn't like the thoughtful look on Rodney's face, though. He glared, this time meaning it. "I'm not going to make anyone stay with me. What if I can't get any more ZPMs working? This will be the only chance you get to go home. I'm not going to make someone miss that."
Rodney turned his head, meeting his gaze. Carson felt himself caught in it, realising that he was only inches away. When Rodney stared at you, really looked *at* you rather than merely looking around while he talked, there was an intensity that caught you up and didn't let you go.
Swallowing nervously, Carson leant back and tried to not think things he had no right to be thinking. "It will be all right, Rodney," he said again, and he tried to sound as calm and accepting of that as he could.
"Hmm," was all Rodney said, and Carson took that as a bad sign. He was thinking, and there would be no way Carson would be able to dissuade him from whatever decision he made.
"No one needs to stay," he tried anyway.
"Oh, I know," Rodney said, surprising him a little. "But we'll see what Elizabeth says--"
"No!" Carson grabbed his arm. "You know she'll ask someone to stay behind. Rodney, if we don't find any more ZPMs, then this will be the only chance people get. I'll not be responsible for someone missing out on going home."
Rodney closed his hand over Carson's, patting it once rather than moving it away as Carson expected. "OK."
He blinked. "OK?"
"OK," Rodney repeated, nodding his head and looking for all the world like he meant it.
Carson didn't trust him, but -- Rodney didn't have a tendency to outright lie. Exaggerate, maybe, but not actually lie.
"I should go," Rodney said, standing up but not really moving away. "You'll be all right?"
"Of course," he said, knowing that they both meant for now, and for the month ahead. Rodney seemed oddly subdued as he nodded, accepting Carson's reassurance.
But he turned and headed for the door, and Carson watched him go without calling him back.
Asking him if he wouldn't like to stay behind and learn how to repair all those gizmos and doodads that he could never remember the proper names for, no matter how often Carson pronounced them for him. But he kept silent, and watched Rodney leave.
Then he laid back down on his bed, looked up at the ceiling, and watched the list of repair jobs scroll slowly by.
***********