TITLE: Haar

AUTHOR: 
Aelfgyfu

RATING: Teen (language, hints of violence)

CATEGORIES: drama, angst, epilogue

SUMMARY: Carson finds it difficult to deal his role in supplying the retrovirus to the Wraith and what happened as a result. Rodney and Kate try to help, and others chip in from time to time.

SPOILERS: Particularly "Allies," "No Man's Land," and "Misbegotten"; scattered references to prior episodes possible

WARNINGS: some bad language and dark thoughts

DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis and its characters belong to MGM-UA, Gekko,, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions, Stargate SG-1, Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, NBC/Sci Fi, and no doubt other persons or entities whom I've forgotten (this list keeps getting longer). No copyright infringement is intended. In fact, my stories make no sense if you haven't seen the shows, so I encourage you to watch! And get all the DVDs! Just like I do!

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

Many thanks once again to Redbyrd and to my Brilliant Husband for their usual stellar work in suggesting improvements and proofreading! Thanks also to Loriel Eris for reading my attempts at Scots English and preventing me from making too much a fool of myself! Remaining errors are solely mine (except for those that actually appeared on screen during the episodes, for which I take no credit).

"haar: local. (ha:r); Also harr, haur. A wet mist or fog; esp. applied on the east coast of England and Scotland, from Lincolnshire northwards, to a cold sea-fog." (Oxford English Dictionary online)

Haar

by Aelfgyfu

Carson Beckett didn't start remembering anything more than vaguely until later. While he lay in one of his own infirmary beds, back in Atlantis, he thought that he didn't want to remember. He'd prefer not to recall any of this. He didn't belong here anymore. He'd felt so at home in this city, from the first time they'd arrived, and especially in the infirmary.

That was before he'd taken all he'd learned, from all his years' work and all this city had allowed him to do, and put it to use making weapons. Weapons he gave to their enemies. When the Wraith hadn't used the weapons themselves, Sheppard and the others ended up killing all the survivors anyway. It wasn't their fault, though. He'd created the situation that led to the killing.

All he could think now was that he didn't deserve to be here, in the place that had always welcomed him. Was this feeling of wrongness the city rejecting him?

He never did rightly remember the trip back from that godforsaken planet. He spent it all in the Daedalus's sick bay. He remembered Rodney being there sometimes, and Teyla and Ronon. Even Caldwell came by. Yet he couldn't really recall what anyone had said. Nor, for that matter, could he recall much since they had gotten back.

"Carson! Good to—" Radek's voice at his elbow startled him, and he jerked away. Radek stepped back, apologetic. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to—surprise you. Just, I needed Rodney to help with computer mess, and he told me you were here, so I thought I would come see...." The engineer stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked inquisitively at Carson.

Was there a question somewhere in there? Carson wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

The silence grew. Radek rocked back and forth on his feet a little, eventually adding, "I thought—Rodney said—I'm glad to see you looking so well."

Carson nodded. "Thanks," he said.

Radek pushed his glasses up his nose. "Will they be keeping you here long?"

Carson shrugged. He wasn't sure how long he had been there already. He hadn't noticed when Rodney left. He really ought to have noticed.

Radek told him something about the work he and Rodney were doing. Carson didn't follow, but he doubted he was meant to do. Radek was filling time, until Carson could think of something to say. Carson was failing.

Radek trailed off, looking to his side, and Carson realized Kellie Cole was approaching.

"Everything looks normal," she told him with a smile that even in his dazed state he could tell was forced. "If—if Michael took any time off your life, it's so little that we can't even tell. Your scans—well, everything looks basically the same as your previous tests.... Your stay in sick bay on the Daedalus helped with the shock and dehydration, but you should take it easy for the next few days."

Carson nodded.

"Everything seems normal. You should be fine," she added.

Carson nodded again.

"You don't want to look at any of the scans yourself?" she asked him, all traces of the smile gone.

He shook his head. She was still watching him, wanting something from him. "I trust you," he said with his own forced smile. "No need to check your work." Kellie didn't say anything, just finally nodded too.

Was she disgusted with him for what he'd done? Did she, did his whole staff, feel betrayed by a man who called himself a doctor yet brought about countless deaths? He could usually tell how people felt. He was a doctor: he needed to know when "fine" or "I'm good" meant someone was really unharmed, and when it meant "I hurt like hell, but if I realize that, I might start screaming."

But this time he couldn't tell how his own colleagues felt. And Carson knew he should know what they felt. And he should care what his staff felt, what they thought. Instead he felt just a glimmer of curiosity. What was Kellie thinking?

He should care what Doctor Weir thought, too. She had come to see him right away, before they'd even done the scans. She'd asked a few questions. She'd said a few things; he wasn't sure what. She'd seemed sympathetic. She hadn't told him how badly he'd done, how wrong he'd been.

He should care what Rodney thought. Rodney must think something, because he'd been with him a lot on the Daedalus. He'd even come with him to the infirmary after they left the Daedalus. That was very kind of him.

Kellie suggested he should stay for observation. He shook his head. She didn't insist. He didn't belong in the infirmary any longer. They must know it.

"Your quarters?" Radek asked, and Carson realized he'd missed a few words.

He wandered down the corridors with Radek at his side, letting the other man's words wash over him. "I'm tired,: he said at what seemed like an appropriate interval. He just couldn't really listen to Radek's words right now. Radek was a good friend; he deserved better. But Carson was doing all he could at the moment.

Normal, they said. He'd be fine. Carson lay on his bed and replayed the words over and over in his head, hoping each time that this time, they'd mean something. He was pretty sure he should feel grateful, or relieved. Or maybe upset, or guilty.

He hadn't felt much of anything since they'd fired on the people down on that planet. They'd had to run to the Jumper right after that, and a few minutes later Rodney had been asking him if he was okay, and he said that he was. By then, he was no longer sure what "okay" even meant. He wasn't sure why he said it.

He couldn't sleep, though he felt tired to the bone. Carson thought he ought to be worried about that too. Maybe it was shock. Shock could be like that. He'd seen it often enough. But it should have ended by now. How long had it been since they'd found him, anyway?

He didn't feel like going back to the infirmary, or getting his comm off the table, or even rolling over to see the clock. So he didn't. Shock or not, it didn't really matter.

He lay on the bed and thought he ought to remember what had happened, but he didn't want to. Couldn't. Both. He'd tried. They'd asked him on the Daedalus, that much he did know. He knew he'd been in the hut with Michael. Alone with him. And then he remembered being on a ship, and then another ship. Nothing else.

Someone was at the door. He should probably answer that. Fortunately, answering it didn't require getting out of bed. He thought "open," not even very hard, and it opened. Atlantis still heeded him.

"Carson?" It was Rodney. "Have you just been lying here all day?"

Carson looked around. It was dark; it was night. He'd never closed the blinds. "Aye."

"Have you had anything to eat?" Rodney sounded anxious. Poor Rodney. He'd had a rough time of it, kidnapped by the Wraith, and then having to get back on that Hive ship before he'd properly recovered from the whole thing. Then he'd seen the Hive ship blown to bits by another Hive ship, while they hid in a cloaked Jumper.

"No."

"Okay!" Rodney clapped his hands together, startling Carson a little. "Let's go!"

Carson really didn't feel like going anywhere, but it was easier than staying in bed with Rodney looming over him. He found his boots, put them on, and went.

Rodney seemed to be steering him everywhere. To the transporter. Toward the mess. And he talked.

Finally Carson focused on what Rodney was saying. "You missed a session with Kate."

"I had a session with Kate?" He couldn't remember scheduling one. He hadn't even planned to be back yet.

"Yes! She set it up with you while you were in the infirmary, waiting for some tests! Don't you remember?" Rodney snapped his fingers in his face.

"Don't." Carson pushed his hand away half-heartedly. "That's annoying."

"Oh, we're up to words with three syllables now! Seriously, should you be back in the infirmary? If you don't snap out of this, I'm taking you back. And tomorrow, you're seeing Kate for sure."

What is "this"? Carson wondered. Shock should have worn off by now. He hadn't truly been hurt, after all. He'd been the one responsible for the hurt.

"She called me when she couldn't page you. I told her I'd check on you," Rodney continued. "I figured maybe you weren't ready to talk yet, and I knew you'd just been in the infirmary. I mean, even you must get sick of it sometimes. Last thing you needed today was another doctor." He paused for a bit. "What? No argument she's not the same kind of doctor?"

They made it to the mess. Rodney steered Carson into line.

"What do you want?" Rodney wrinkled his nose at everything. "That stew's probably the least offensive."

Carson looked at it. There were potatoes. Some other vegetables.

"I had that for dinner," Rodney went on. "It's...tolerable, I guess."

He looked at Rodney. He looked around the mess. There weren't many people there, and most seemed to be finishing. Rodney had already eaten. So why had he brought Carson here?

"Do you even know what time it is?" Rodney's voice held an edge.

Carson went to check his watch, but apparently he'd taken it off at some point.

"You are so seeing Kate in the morning!"

Carson ate some stew. Rodney ate some dessert. He talked about being in a Wraith cocoon. Ronon cut them both out. Ronon was very impressive. It was cold on the Wraith ship, Rodney said. They'd managed to warm it up some after they'd taken control. Carson shivered a little. It had been chilly on the planet, especially first thing in the morning, and of course at night. And when he was strapped to the gurney and couldn't move.

Rodney should never have been on a Hive ship in the first place. They should never have agreed to work with the Wraith, for any reason.

"You gonna eat the rest of that?" Rodney asked pointedly.

Carson shrugged. Rodney could have it.

"You know, you're scaring the hell out of me," Rodney said bluntly, not even taking his food.

Carson felt a little pang. Rodney was being really nice to him, in his own way, and Carson wasn't reciprocating at all. "I'm sorry, Rodney. Maybe I'm still in shock?"

"You need to go back to the infirmary?" Rodney's face was suddenly about three inches from his own, eyes wide, and Carson started back in his seat.

"No. No, I think some more sleep. I'll talk to Kate in the morning." "More sleep" was a lie, actually, because it implied that he'd slept before. He wasn't sure when he'd last slept. Had he slept in that tent where Michael had him tied up? He was supposed to rest in the Daedalus's sickbay, but he didn't remember sleeping there. He didn't remember not sleeping there, though.

He did sleep some that night, but he wasn't sure for how long. His chest ached. Phantom pain—the discoloration from where Michael had touched him was already fading.

He remembered the faces. They'd given names to every one of those human-Wraiths. He'd put photos in their charts. He was trying to learn all the names they'd given them, but he hadn't managed them all. Maybe half of them. Wasted effort, all of it. They were all gone now. What had he been thinking?

Maybe death by weapons fire was a blessing. It kept the more reverted Wraith from feasting on the remaining human ones. It was faster, less painful, less frightening.

But it was still death. What happened to Wraith when they died? Rodney believed nothing happened after death. This was it: you had one shot at life, and then it was over. Which made all the times Rodney risked his life all the braver.

Carson couldn't believe this was it. Maybe it was the way he was raised. Maybe it was the fact that, if this was all there was, the universe was too cruel. People like Peter Grodin and Christine Dumais and Tom Griffin had to be somewhere else now. Somewhere where they didn't suffer and fear. They'd earned something far better.

Carson was afraid he'd earned something far, far worse.

But he didn't feel it yet. He couldn't feel any of it. He just felt numb.

Once at uni, he and a friend had gone out drinking. As they'd walked back, they'd been talking, and they'd been so intent on whatever it was they were discussing that they weren't looking where they were going. So Andrew had walked smack into one of those stanchions that kept cars out of the pedestrian area. It was metal, and not quite waist-high, and Andrew hit it and just collapsed to the walk, and he gasped out, "This is going to hurt in a moment."

And then it did. Andrew had been okay, but it had been a really bad few minutes. They'd joked about it later. Days later.

And Carson lay in bed thinking, "This is going to hurt in a moment," but it didn't.

He could always feel Atlantis around him. It hummed; he felt more than heard it. Usually, it soothed him. But tonight, it felt wrong. Disturbed. Or maybe he was. He no longer fit into Atlantis's harmony.

And then Rodney was back, telling him he'd gotten him the first appointment this morning with Kate, and he was going to make sure he got there. It was morning, though he didn't remember falling asleep. He got out of bed and opened the blinds he didn't remember closing last night. And he could see that Rodney was really, really scared.

Worry for Rodney managed to penetrate the fog hanging around his head. "Have you talked to her? About being...." He couldn't finish the thought. He couldn't voice what had happened, let alone what could have happened, to Rodney.

"Yeah! Yeah, I did, actually."

Rodney told him how helpful Kate had been. His voice followed Carson around the room. Carson pulled together a pile of clothes to bring into the washroom so he wouldn't have to change in front of Rodney. Actually, he wasn't sure he really cared what Rodney saw anyway. He simply wasn't in the habit of changing in front of others.

Carson shut the door and wondered if showering and shaving were really worthwhile. He'd just have to do them all over again. And brushing his teeth. If he had back every minute of his life he'd spent.... Would the time have helped him think of some way out of what he'd done? An alternative to giving the Wraith weapons to turn their own kind human, and to torture and kill them as humans?

When that Wraith ship came, they threatened Atlantis—and even Earth, if they'd taken the Gate. The Wraith could destroy all humanity, even on his home planet. He'd found it all too easy during the crisis not to see the Wraith as human. The Wraith they encountered had little or no individuality: no personal names, no personal choices. It was so easy to remember Michael reverting to Wraith, nearly killing Teyla. It was so easy to say, "Yes, let's have our enemies feed on each other." They weren't, after all, human. Carson had sworn to protect human life, not all life.

With the threat of a Hive ship directly over the planet, Carson had not made the time or effort to remember the more human Michael. He'd not made the time or effort to think of Wraith turned human being fed upon by Wraith. To realize that he would be sentencing thousands of humans to their deaths. Only when he saw a Wraith turn human in his own infirmary, only when he watched the Queen feed upon the poor man, did he have to face what he was doing.

Then it was too late. He couldn't stop one Wraith in his infirmary from killing a man right in front of him; of course his feeble objections had been too little, too late to stop the plan. The Daedalus went off, and Rodney and Ronon on the Hive ship itself, so Wraith could use a weapon he had created—to turn Wraith human and then destroy them, horribly.

If he had taken the time, made the effort, he could have found another solution. There must another way out, without killing thousands. Without committing atrocities. He could no longer hide behind good intentions, as he had with Hoff. He was a war criminal.

"Carson?" A loud voice, just outside the door. Maybe a wee bit worried.

He started shaving.

Kate Heightmeyer told Carson how normal it was to feel anxious, powerless, and a few other things—he'd stopped listening after a bit. He thought he was managing to agree in the right places. Her eyes narrowed at him. Maybe she didn't trust him any more. Maybe she blamed him. She'd be right.

It was very quiet, and Carson realized he didn't know how long ago she had stopped talking. He tried to sneak a look at his watch and remembered he hadn't put it on again.

"Carson?" Her eyes were open wider again. Worried.

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

He tried to smile. He thought he might even have pulled it off. "Sorry. My mind's wandering a little."

She wasn't smiling. "Carson, you've been through a serious trauma. I think you need to talk about it. Normally, I'd try to let you do it in your own time, and I know you still need rest. But, as Doctor Weir reminded me yesterday, there are security issues at stake."

"Security issues?" Carson really hadn't been paying enough attention. "But I thought they were all dead?"

Kate shook her head sadly. "We can't be sure."

Was she sad that they were all dead? Or that they weren't all dead?

"Carson, you need to talk to me about what happened."

"What's there to say?" I'm a mass-murderer, again? That sounded too self-centered. Like it was all about Carson Beckett. He knew it wasn't. But he also knew he could have prevented it. He should have refused to cooperate. Or better yet, never done that first experiment. With Michael. That was all his idea, right from the start.

But how could he tell Kate Heightmeyer that they'd gone wrong right there? Kate had been on board ever since he conceived the experiment. He'd run the idea of capturing a Wraith and testing the retrovirus past her before he even went to Doctor Weir. Kate had reassured him every step of the way that Carson just needed to deal with the physical changes. She would work with the converted Wraith on the psychic adjustments. That hadn't turned out so well. Then, of course, no emotional or intellectual help was needed when he turned the retrovirus into a weapon, because the Wraith would just feed on the newly humanized.

He couldn't tell her how wrong he'd been, because in a way, he'd be blaming her. But it wasn't her fault. It was his.

"Carson!" Kate said, her voice becoming sharp. "Are you feeling all right, physically? Should I call the infirmary?"

"I'm fine," he said dully. "Tired, if you can believe that."

"Why wouldn't I believe it?"

"Because I haven't done anything in...days." He wasn't sure how many.

"Why don't you talk me through what happened?" Kate said in a soothing voice. The kind he usually found comforting. But it didn't touch him this time. It was as if she were far away, or a recording. "Carson? After Colonel Sheppard and the others left?"

So he told her. It was fairly easy at the start. He'd still thought they could save a lot of Wraith. They'd been human. "I thought things were going well on the planet. Then, suddenly, Lathan was dead, but I thought he was just confused by the whole process. He still wasn't sure who he was or where he was. He was disoriented, and he fell. So I thought.

"My first mistake was in not starting the autopsy until Colonel Sheppard and the others had gone. But it looked like Lathan had died of natural causes. I didn't see any reason to hold them back. I'd hoped to learn more about how the retrovirus was working from the autopsy.

"But...." Keep it clinical. Maybe then he could get to that lost time that he knew he should have. "It soon became apparent that there was post-mortem damage to the body. So I finished the autopsy and thought I'd go look and see how it had happened." He sucked in a breath. It was getting harder. "And my next mistake was to go alone. I was on a planet full of unarmed humans with a few armed security personnel, so I wasn't worried." He stopped, staring at the floor, hesitating to think about what had come next.

"You said, 'My first mistake' and 'my next mistake'—but weren't those perfectly reasonable courses of action given the circumstances?"

Carson frowned. "No, they weren't. I mean, I thought they were, but obviously I was wrong."

"In hindsight."

Ah. Here was the part where she relieved him of all responsibility, of all guilt, told him there was nothing more he could have done. And he'd believed her, after Michael, when she told him they had done their best, and it wasn't his fault. But she had a vested interest in believing that, because she had helped him.

But she was wrong. He was wrong. He had done a trial on an intelligent being, if not a human, far too soon. And then the patient was human, and he hadn't followed proper protocols. Never had he secured any consent. Never. Overconfident because of his success with the ATA gene therapy, he'd respected no boundaries. Carson Beckett didn't have to do incremental experiments like everyone else. Even the disasters on Hoff and with the Wraith girl hadn't punctured his inflated ego.

He'd meant well, at least at first. He'd thought being a Wraith was like being mentally ill; it was curable, and the person would be happier afterwards. A paranoid schizophrenic might not consent to treatment, he'd reasoned, but a court-appointed guardian could consent. And that person might live a much better life, and be grateful, afterwards.

Now it occurred to him that not every case was so clear-cut. Some bipolar patients didn't want medication because it took away both extremes, even left them numb. Was it right to force medication on them? Did patients with social anxiety need medication? Or was it all right for them simply to avoid public situations? Was that a free choice?

But people with social anxiety didn't suck the life out of one helpless victim after another.

Did the numbness of those bipolar patients on medication feel like this?

"Carson? Please continue." She was leaning forward again, very close to him, and then, as if she realized how close she was, Kate settled back in her chair again.

"I found the site. The blood was all wrong. It was wrong on his body, and it was wrong at the site. I mean, there was virtually no blood. His heart had stopped before any injuries in the fall. He was murdered, and then the body was pushed.

"And then I saw a man—not one of the security personnel. And I followed. I don't even know when they killed the lieutenant and the others. I wasn't in camp. I was playing spy."

"Do you really think you could have stopped them?" Kate asked gently when he didn't continue. "At any point?"

"If I'd worked out what happened faster, I could have kept Sheppard and his team from leaving. We could have had help on the planet. Or maybe I could have warned Morrison and the others. They could have—taken a defensible position. But I don't know how we'd have separated the...more human ones from the ones who'd reverted. I don't know!" The fog he felt he'd been living in for the past while was starting to dissipate, just a little. And little trickles of pain were coming in.

"Carson, you're not responsible—"

"Aye, I am! I did all of it! My mistake was not on the planet; I went wrong long before that! I made them what they were, and—and I knew they'd die! I gave that weapon to the Wraith, to kill other Wraith, horribly!" He pushed back the pain, tried this time to step willingly back into the fog, to his own surprise. "And when we ended up with surviving Wraith, who'd already been gassed—I thought I could escape, I could not commit mass murder, this time. We could put them somewhere, set up a colony, keep them alive! And human!" It was rather like anesthetic wearing off too soon, Carson thought. Stabs of pain coming and going.

Kate was frowning deeply, warningly. He expected censure, from the stern look on her face, but instead she said: "You had no choice, Carson. We had no choice. They'd have killed us and taken the information from our computers. They could have taken Atlantis, and then they'd have gone to Earth! It was our only chance—to live and to limit the damage they could do. To buy some time, to try to find a way out. And we did. That Hive was destroyed."

Carson shook his head, slowly, slightly. He felt as though moving too much physically much might jar him into more pain. "But the information wasna all in the computers! The delivery system was in my head!" He tapped his head. "We'd scarce started work on that! We did it here for the Wraith! I gave a mortal weapon to our worst enemies!"

Kate sat frozen, her lips slightly parted, her brow furrowed. Had she not grasped the extent of his guilt before? Was she going to turn away from him now? He couldn't blame her.

"You don't think they could have taken it from your mind?" she asked. "You know what happened to Colonel Sumner."

Carson nodded again, the slightest movement he could make. "But I wouldna have violated my oath!"

"But everyone on Atlantis would have been dead, the Wraith would have had the same information, and they would have used it unchallenged. Because, in the end, Sheppard and Caldwell and Lorne did stop them. Because we cooperated with them when we had no choice, and we bought the time we needed."

Carson stared at her. He'd heard the words, but he couldn't make sense of them.

Kate smiled a little. She was trying to make it easy on him. "I'm saying, Carson, that you might have been able to escape personal responsibility that way, but we would all be dead. Everyone on this station. They'd have taken your knowledge first; Michael knew you. We'd all have died slowly and painfully. And the Wraith who did it would still be out there. And now they're not. You did what you had to to keep us alive."

"Escape responsibility?" he asked in a whisper. He felt anger coming on, like a storm front still some distance away. "You think I hold my reputation above all our lives? Well, clearly I don't, because I gave them what they wanted. I put aside my reputation. And more than that—my ethics. Because I was scared. I wanted to live. I wanted all of us to live.

"And I was wrong. What I did, no one should have done. And if we were so damned scart about the Wraith pulling knowledge from my head, I could have hindered that quite easily." If he had had the stomach to end it, like Brendan Gall. He wasn't sure he did. But he continued, "Sheppard stopped the Wraith sucking everything out of Sumner."

Kate's eyes widened even more. Carson had made a mistake. Would she put him on suicide watch? She'd have to. He didn't care very much.

Kate moved to straighten her top and furtively consult her watch; he had made similar gestures enough to know what she was doing. Wanting to get rid of him? He couldn't blame her.

He felt weary. The anger was moving off again; the storm had broken and passed. The haar was thickening, the pain abating. He'd wanted to vanish back into those mists again, hadn't he? He was getting it.

"Carson, we obviously need to talk about this more."

Carson didn't see the point, but he didn't feel like arguing.

"But we have a...a pressing issue here. It is possible, and I stress possible, that one or more of the Wraith escaped the planet. Colonel Sheppard didn't have the chance to confirm that they were all dead. If they escaped, they...." She'd been so confident, most of this session, as usual. But now she was faltering. "The team found you strapped down; the medical staff confirmed that a Wraith fed on you. I know they learned about the failsafe and disarmed it. Do you know...what else they might have taken?"

Oh, God. Carson squeezed his eyes shut, but that gave rise to vertigo. He opened them again. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn't form the words. He had tried to remember, but maybe not tried hard enough, because nothing came.

But now, with Kate talking about security, about what they might have learned from him, he could guess. What would Michael have wanted? Besides the bomb, which Carson must have revealed to him, because it didn't go off?

Kate tried to look encouraging.

"You mean—did they learn how to make the retrovirus weapon anyway?" There, he'd said it, and his mouth slammed shut again, jarring his jaw. It wasn't as if he knew much about Atlantis's defenses; Michael could surely have gotten more damaging information from the security detail.

Kate nodded hesitantly. "Among other things. You...the timeline you gave the doctors on the Daedalus and here when they treated you was very vague. We don't even know how exactly how long you were held, or how many times...you were...questioned."

Carson's chest ached. It was all in his head, he told himself. There was no wound there to speak of. Some discoloration, an old bruise. That was all.

"Carson, can you tell me what they...asked you?"

"There was no asking," he said in a small voice.

"Do you know...?"

He shook his head. "I don't remember. I remember being restrained. I...oh, God." He remembered Michael leaning over him, tearing apart the last shreds of his bravado.

Kate sat very patiently. He made an effort to talk, for her.

"I said he couldn't threaten me because I knew he was gonna kill me anyway, and he said I was...too valuable." Michael must have wanted the retrovirus. And Carson had had quite enough in his head. He had too good, too detailed a memory.

Kate's eyes had been on him far too long, and he saw sympathy, of all things. He couldn't stand it. He bent forward and put his face in his hands.

"And then?" she said after some time.

"And then...I don't know. I misremember." He remembered Michael's voice echoing inside his head; the last thing he thought he remembered clearly, in fact, was hearing Michael's voice without seeing Michael's lips move. That couldn't be right. "I can't even remember what he asked, or what he said. There's this great dark hole in my memory. I don't remember him leaving. I don't remember anyone else coming, or even getting on the Jumper. I scarce remember being on a Jumper, and then on the Hive ship." Carson hoped his muffled voice was clear enough. He didn't want to have to repeat. And surely she didn't need to hear about what happened after they were on the Hive ship. The others would have told her already of the deaths of his remaining patients.

"Carson?" A hand touched his shoulder, and he jumped all the way to the back of the chair.

Kate was standing right in front of him. He hadn't heard her move.

She stepped back at once. "I'm sorry, Carson. I shouldn't—I didn't mean to surprise you."

"It's all right," he sighed.

She sat back down. "Carson. It's important for you to know: it's not your fault."

He stared at her in disbelief.

She sat down and stared back.

"Have you ever treated rape victims, Carson?"

She couldn't. She wouldn't. He wouldn't answer. He wouldn't permit this twisting of what he'd done.

"I'll take that as a yes. You know; you've probably told them yourself. It's not their fault!"

"That's right," Carson said with a coldness that now seemed to infect his entire body. He looked at the floor, because he knew what he'd see on her face. "It's not a rape victim's fault. She hasn't done anything to deserve it. I did everything to deserve this. I'm only sorry so many other...people...." His throat closed up. He couldn't talk anymore. It wasn't tears. It was more like exhaustion. The numbness was back in full force, if numbness could be said to have force.

He could hear Kate taking in a long, slow breath. "We need to talk more about this, Carson, and we will," she said. "But right now, as I said, we have a...potential threat. We need to know, if we can, what...Michael might have learned from you."

He studied the floor. In so many ways, Atlantis looked just a like a building on Earth, really.

"Carson? Look at me." He didn't, but she went on. "Maybe they did take the information on the...virus. But if so, they took it against your will."

"I wouldn't know," he whispered. "I can't remember." Or was it simply that he still didn't want to remember?

"I'm not an expert on hypnosis...." Kate started.

His head jerked up of its own accord. "You can...?" He had known that she could hypnotize. He had forgotten. He wondered why.

"I can try," she said. She looked at her watch openly. "I'm running late, and you're—I think you're running on empty," she said with a little smile. "I have a meeting now. You need a break. But I don't think this can wait long. You need to know, and Atlantis needs any information we can get." She fidgeted with her fingers for a moment, twisting them, something she hardly ever did. "I'm sorry, Carson. I think it's entirely possible we'll find something we don't want to find."

"But it's better to know," he said, and he hoped he meant it.

She nodded. "The other thing is, I don't want you to get your hopes up. I'm not...the best hypnotist. I've done a little of it, and I did some brushing up after I took this assignment." She grimaced and looked away. "Apparently, the SGC has needed hypnosis several times over the years, and they thought the psychologist out here should be able to do it reasonably well. I'm not sure I'm up to their standards, though."

She looked at Carson again, her face soft with a compassion that he couldn't bear. He looked at the floor.

"I've never hypnotized someone...who has been attacked by Wraith before."

Of course not. They didn't survive.

"But we can give it a try this afternoon. I need a little time...to prepare. I don't think you should be alone for the time being," she said, standing, so Carson stood too. "I hope you don't mind, but I don't think you're ready to go back to work yet, either."

Ah. Suicide watch it was. He had no intention of killing himself, but she'd be bound to take preventive measures no matter what he said. So he didn't say anything.

"I heard you don't want to stay in the infirmary."

He shook his head.

"But you really shouldn't be alone, and I'm sorry we... I should have talked to you yesterday. I didn't realize.... How about Rodney McKay? He's your best friend, isn't he?"

She was already rising, picking up her comm from her desk where she set it during sessions.

"No," he finally managed to squeeze out. "Rodney's been through enough. I'm certain he wants to work. Don't bother him." Let him forget the Wraith, if he could. Being around Carson wouldn't help.

Kate frowned. "I don't think he'd see it as bothering him." But she didn't seem to want to argue with him. "Who would you like me to call?"

Carson shrugged.

Which was also a mistake, because that was how he ended up being escorted back to his quarters by Ronon Dex. He was privy to the whole brief conversation between Kate and Ronon, so he knew there weren't any special instructions. She didn't tell Ronon to take away any sharp objects, or shoelaces, or belts from his quarters. So not a full-blown suicide watch, after all.

Ronon turned the wrong way almost right away, then turned around when Carson stopped and stared at his back. "You comin'? I know it's a little early for lunch, but you look like you need it."

Carson felt the slightest urge to laugh, like a little tickle. Lunch was the last thing he needed right now.

"I thought I'd try to get a little more sleep," Carson said.

"So you haven't been getting enough?" Ronon asked.

It was a reasonable question, perhaps, but Carson had no idea how to answer. How much sleep did he need? How much had he gotten while Michael wasn't sucking the life and mind out of him? How much could the half-Wraith have learned without taking more than a year or less off Carson's life? Had the fact that Michael hadn't yet fully reverted to Wraith slowed him down a little? A lot?

Ronon's hand was on his shoulder, but he managed not to jump. "Come on. Food." Carson was tugged inexorably down the hallway.

People were staring at him in the mess hall, he was sure. He tried to keep his eyes on his tray. He wasn't sure if they felt pity for him, anger at him, or some mix. He didn't want either. He wanted to disappear.

"Carson!" A hand was on his back, and he jumped nearly out of his seat. "Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you!" Laura Cadman. Oh, not now. Pity, definitely. "How are you feeling?" She dropped into a chair next to him.

"He hasn't been talking much," Ronon offered.

Carson looked at him. Ronon had a very dry wit, and Carson couldn't be sure if he was being funny or serious. He looked back at his soup. He'd better eat some of it. Ronon was watching. He glanced at Laura.

She touched his arm, very gently. "Hey, I'm sorry.... I just wanted to see how you were doing." She looked at him, sitting too close. "I want to be sure you're all right."

Carson stared at his food some more. He didn't want to lie to her. But what could he say? "I'll get back to you on that," he finally told her. Maybe after he remembered things he'd feel better.

She laughed. He hadn't even been trying to joke. She stood again. "You do that, okay?" She leaned in to say in his ear, "If you don't, I'll sic McKay on you. Don't think I won't."

Carson tried to smile, but he knew from the way the smile fell off her face it wasn't working, so he went back to his meal.

They had just left the mess hall when they ran into Rodney and Radek heading towards it.

"Carson." Radek nodded to him.

"Hey, Carson!" Rodney seemed a little too loud, as usual. "How was—how did—I mean—"

"Eloquent as usual," Radek said in a low tone.

"Hey! I resent that! I can be perfectly—"

Carson started away, knowing his guard would follow.

"Hey! Where ya going? You ate already?"

"Yep," Ronon answered for them both.

Rodney ran a few steps to catch up with Carson. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. "And is Ronon, like, assigned to you or something?"

"Aye," Carson said, not breaking stride. He really wanted to lie down now. It was all he wanted.

Rodney kept pace with Carson and started to ask another question, but Ronon growled, "He needs rest," and Rodney stopped dead.

Carson kept walking.

Carson had finally remembered to put his watch on. Ronon flipped through a couple of books, paced the room, and generally made it impossible to pretend he was alone.

"Look," he said, sitting up after fifty-five minutes.

"I'm keeping you from sleeping. Sorry. I'll just sit quietly." Ronon immediately sprawled in a chair.

"But you must be bored out of your skull," Carson said.

"I'm used to it." He paused. "Maybe I'll meditate." He grinned hugely.

Carson didn't get the joke. "Look, I really don't think you need to stay."

"Heightmeyer said you shouldn't be alone."

"Fine," Carson said. At least Ronon wasn't trying to make him talk. He curled up on his right side, where he couldn't see his babysitter.

He couldn't hear him either. At first it felt kind of creepy. He thought of the security detail. Morrison. Blake. Wojda. Ahumibe. All silenced now, all dead. Presumably sucked dry by the Wraith. He hoped it hadn't taken too long. Wait—they'd all known about the failsafe, but Michael had still needed to learn about it from him. That meant they'd had to kill them quickly, maybe even with guns, not feeding on them. That was a little better, anyway.

But no comfort to their families and their friends. He hadn't counted any of them among his own friends, but he'd seen them all, in his infirmary and out of it. Karl Wojda was still working on his English, but he was getting really good at it. He joked that soon he'd have less accent than Carson did. Carson had told him that the Americans were the ones with the funny accents. Karl had laughed. Dibia Ahumibe loved the water, loved Atlantis; he told Carson his first name meant "healer," and he'd been training as a medic. He was a quick learner. He seemed to take to Atlantis much as Carson did. He had still been uncertain how much he could do; his gene wasn't very strong. But that gene allowed him to feel the city, and he said once he felt it singing to him, like a mother to a baby. Carson wished he had talked to the man more.

Tired, so tired. He was adrift. But someone was watching; it wasn't safe—

Carson jumped and turned, falling off the narrow bed, and there was someone standing over him. He scooted back for a moment before realizing that Wraith were much paler than the figure above.

"Bad dream, Doc?" Ronon smiled a little, offered him a hand up.

Carson forced himself to accept the hand and sat back down on the bed. "Yeah. Thanks." He looked at his watch. "Kate said 4:00, right?"

Ronon chuckled. "Kate said 1600. She's more military than you."

"But she doesn't kill people," Carson said, then stopped. Normally, some part of his brain kept unacceptable thoughts from just spilling out of his mouth. It seemed to have just failed.

Ronon looked confused. "She's lucky. You did what you had to do, Doc. We all did. But you weren't the one killing people."

Carson didn't say anything. He sat on the bed. It wasn't even two yet. More than two hours. What was he supposed to do?

"Well, I won't be sleeping. I might as well go for a walk."

"Sounds good."

Being with Ronon certainly had a big advantage over being with Rodney: Ronon didn't prattle all the time.

They managed to stick to little-traveled hallways, for the most part. Ronon walked next to Carson, and people said a very quick hello and walked on without stopping. If anything, they walked on even faster. Eventually Carson saw Ronon's face and realized the big man was glaring at anyone who came close.

That should be funny, he thought idly.

After they'd been walking a while, Carson's legs began to feel rubbery, and he went out on a balcony and just sat down. They weren't in the dangerous, unexplored areas of the city, but this wasn't a high-traffic area, either. Carson blinked up at the sun. It was usually so bright on Atlantis. The trees had made that planet so shady that it always seemed to be overcast.

"Doc?" Ronon asked, startling Carson. "You okay?"

Carson shook his head but forced himself to put on a little cheer. "I will be. I...I hope this hypnosis works."

Ronon nodded thoughtfully. "You want me there for that? Or McKay?"

Carson shook his head. "I'm sure Kate will...record it. Probably videotape. Security concerns, you know." He hadn't thought about it until Ronon asked.

Ronon shook his head. "Not what I mean. You know, if you want anybody there, we're there. Anybody you want."

"Thanks." And he did feel some gratitude. He hoped it showed.

Carson had hoped to spend the rest of the time in silence, but Ronon started asking him questions, about medicine, about why he was a doctor. It seemed rude not to answer, but Carson really didn't feel like talking about why he was a doctor. He'd betrayed everything that brought him to the profession. The conversation stumbled, but Ronon plowed on; Carson wasn't sure why.

Maybe Ronon was trying to help him not think about what was coming. He had to remember. Maybe then he would know what to feel.

And then it was time, and Ronon walked him back to Kate's office, and put a hand on his shoulder—slowly, with his arm visible at all times. As if Carson might jump if he didn't see it coming. Which was probably true.

"Just call one of us when you're done, or if you need us," Ronon said gruffly, and Carson wasn't sure whether he was talking to him or to Kate, but Kate nodded.

"Have you ever been hypnotized before?" she asked once they were seated.

"A few times. Medical school, when I was studying psychology. They said I was a good subject."

"That's good," Kate said.

"Easy" was actually how Carson had been described as a hypnosis subject. Good practice for nervous students. But he was afraid he'd been all too easy for Michael. It would be good to know, either way. At least, that was what he told himself.

Kate was videotaping it. She told him that she'd keep strict control of the recording. Doctor Weir and Colonel Sheppard would see it if need be. No one else. Not Caldwell. No copy would go to the SGC. She'd destroy it when they had done all they needed with it. He thought that knowledge should make a difference to him, but it didn't.

He really wasn't nervous, he realized. Maybe he'd gone so far through nervous he'd come out the other side. Remembering could hardly be as bad as what really happened, or even as bad as not remembering. He was calm about this. He could do this.

"All right, Carson. I'm going to start now. Are you comfortable closing your eyes right now?" Her voice was gentle, soothing.

She worked on relaxation and imagery. She told him over and over he was safe. And he felt safe. Nothing unexpected. He'd done this before.

He could feel his hands and chest tightening up as she finally asked him to remember being on the planet, and she talked him through it, worked on relaxing him again, until he could remember without stiffening up.

He remembered the autopsy. He remembered going back to where they'd found Lathan's body. He remembered realizing that all the security detail must be dead.

And remembering came with a burst of pain he'd not felt in days, except for those few twinges earlier. Kate talked him through it, helped him put it aside, "just for now," to get through to the crucial moments.

He became detached again and stayed that way. It wasn't that hard, really. He'd been detached since he'd gotten on the Hive ship. It wasn't that different from hypnosis. Everything, and everyone, seemed to be at some remove.

He remembered Michael talking about empathy, about how Carson's empathy would help him invade Carson's mind. He remembered hearing Michael's voice inside his head, not just in his ears.

And then....Then he remembered hands on him. He'd been too drained even to flinch, but they were friendly hands. And a Jumper. Later they were on the Hive ship, where he'd actually managed to walk and stand and notice what was going on for a few minutes. Then they fired on the camp from orbit, and then they'd had to run, and he couldn't remember very much for a while again.

Wait. There was supposed to be more in there. Kate took him back again, back to the tent, with Michael. He remembered finding himself in restraints. He remembered Michael's voice in his head. Then Sheppard's team, and a Jumper....

Kate brought him out of hypnosis gently and slowly, with suggestions that he should feel more at peace. A little bit of him rebelled at that, because he knew he didn't deserve peace after what he'd done, but he didn't voice that thought.

"Open your eyes," she said at last.

He did. He couldn't read disappointment on her face. Had he lost the ability to read people at some point?

"It's not there," he said, puzzled.

Her mouth crinkled up a little. "It looks like you're right," she said. "But you know hypnosis doesn't always work the first time. We can try again tomorrow."

"But there's nothing there," he repeated dully. "How can it not be there?" True, he hadn't wanted to remember at first. But they needed the information, he knew that, and he was trying to remember. He really was.

"We don't know how Wraith feeding works," she told him, unnecessarily. "And Michael—Michael was different. His abilities may have been affected by the retrovirus still, or by his experience of being human. Or he may have been deliberately preventing you from forming memories in some way. He seemed to want to keep you alive; he clearly didn't feed on you very much, though he had you there for several hours, at least."

A ghastly new thought entered Carson's mind. "Did he plant any suggestions? Would I have remembered those?"

Kate shook her head. "I think we should try again, in case, but I doubt it. You don't feel any strange compulsions, do you?" She smiled, as if the question weren't serious.

"I don't feel any compulsions at all," he replied. Not to eat, not to work, not to talk. Not to do anything at all.

Some part of him was disturb