Taken On Trust

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Well, here we are, my friends - the last chapter ! I'm so glad that I found this story and submitted it, and have really appreciated all the reviews. Thanks so much !

I'm not sure when the latest story will be finished, since RL has to take precedence - but you can rest assured that you'll read it here first !

So just to round this one off, then, with a few more serious bits, a few more funny bits... and, of course, a few more shippy bits too ! Enjoy !!

Chapter Fourteen

Resolutions

Carson had slept now, enabling him to regain precious strength from the previous day's draining breakdown. When he woke the next morning, a welcome hint of their familiar twinkle had returned to his eyes.

To Laura's surprised amusement, both his appetite and love of a 'good mug o' best Scottish tea…' had returned too. The appeal in his eyes as they latched onto the mug in her hands was, as always, completely irresistible.

"Hey, you're supposed to be resting, not stealing my tea…" she chided gently, stroking back his hair – making what, she already knew, was a pointless stand against the power of that glacier-melting smile. "In fact, you're meant to still be asleep. If Kate sees you're awake already, we'll both be in trouble..."

Faced with such a dire threat, Carson then unleashed two failsafe weapons in his arsenal to defeat it.

"Don' worry, love… quick flash o' these eyes an' dimples, an' she'll be putty in my h'nds…"

"Yeah, tell me about it…" Laura retorted dryly, watching the rest of her hijacked tea disappear down a smugly mischievous mouth. Damn, with those eyes and those dimples, neither Kate nor herself stood a hope in hell of making any kind of stand against them

There was a difference in their expression, too, which now filled Laura with a fresh, hopeful pride. Instead of the shame which she'd seen in them the previous day, they now held a familiar, settled calmness.

"You're looking a lot better today…" she said at last, deliberately leaving it to him to say the rest – rewarding him with a soft kiss against his temple as Carson smiled and nodded, snuggling against her with what, to her helpless amusement, sounded suspiciously like a purr.

"Aye, lass, I'm gettin' there… an' it's all down to you, love, for takin' such good care of me…"

Such adoring, adorable flattery. Little wonder, then, that Laura now eyed him in such shrewd suspicion.

"So you're wanting my breakfast too now, as well as my tea…?"

"Well, if you're offerin', love, I wouldnae mind... 'cos I'm awful, awfu' hungry…" Carson shot back, gazing up at her with batting eyelashes, then allowing himself a sly grin as this exaggeration of his accent worked its usual, irresistible charms.

Laughing too much to raise any further objections, Laura settled instead for a quietly relieved cuddle. Admittedly it was only a small slice of toast, but what a treat it was to see him finally eating again.

Carson, too, could sense that he'd turned a vital corner now as he settled more snugly into her arms – his voice when he spoke again, while still soft, also much stronger than it had been the previous day.

"Y' know, love, it – it was thinkin' of moments like this that… well, that saved my life down there… I – I jus' couldn't face the thought o' never seein' you again, an'… well, I could still hear ye, love… it was you tellin' me to fight that… well, that gave me the strength to do it an'… an' get away…"

"You heard me telling you to fight…?" Laura echoed, flattered and concerned in equal measure. She was thrilled that he'd found strength from her, but she couldn't help but uneasily wonder how he'd gained that strength. Had that alien plant sap, the thing that had so nearly killed him, been playing hell with his mind even then...?

Blushing slightly, Carson then nodded while hesitantly pre-empting her next inevitable question.

"It – It was just after their leader grabbed me, he… well, jus' kept braggin' that he owned me, and… well, that's when I heard ye, love… I heard ye tellin' me not to give up, to – to fight to get away from him… you… um… well, you – you… um… ye said if anyone had dibs on my body, it – it was you…"

It was quite a revelation – met, after several nervously expectant moments, with a smile of pure pride.

"With everything that bastard was doing to you, you imagined me saying that…?" Laura said at last – taking the greatest pleasure in watching that adorable face grow redder as she gently nibbled his ear.

"Way to go on that imagination, Kilt-Boy…! And damn straight on the dibs part…!"

Even his dimples were blushing now as Carson dissolved into shyly relieved giggles of laughter. And there was only one way, of course, to bring this most enlightening conversation to a suitable close – a soft, undemanding kiss returning shattered pride and stolen possession to their respective owners.

Halfway through the Infirmary doors, John Sheppard reluctantly slid his camera back into his pocket. There were some truly priceless notice-board pictures beyond those doors, just begging to be taken, of course, but – no, John now dryly reflected, hacking off a feisty, head-butting, syringe-wielding Scottish doctor really was not a good idea.

Brightening with sudden inspiration, John then trotted happily off in pursuit of less dangerous prey. Obnoxious Canadian physicists, on the other hand…? Oh yes, they were born to be embarrassed.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

His last waking memory had been the beauty of Laura's smile as she'd gently kissed him to sleep. To find himself now, frowningly blinking into a face that only Katie Brown could seem to love – well, Carson Beckett could be forgiven for thinking he'd been more than a little short changed.

And for the bugger to be eating too, while his stomach turned somersaults of rumbling hunger…? Aye, Carson now dryly reflected, finding it impossible not to smile, that was Rodney, all bloody over.

Reading his thoughts, thankfully not entirely accurately, Rodney grinned back at him around a crammed mouthful of toast.

"Laura's just gone to get herself freshened up, and… um… you know, grab a quick bite to eat…"

Sheepishly brushing a spray of crumbs from the edge of Carson's bed, he then grew serious again – the nervous awkwardness on his face not lost, even on the sleepily amused eyes of his closest friend.

"I – I can go and get her, though, if – if you want… or – or get Dr Buchanan, if you need... um... well, if you need anything…"

Already sensing the cause for that awkwardness, Carson just smiled back at him and shook his head.

"No, Rodney, I'm okay… an' it'll do Laura good to have a wee break for a while…" he said at last – the smile fading slightly as he noticed that Rodney's face was every bit as tired as Laura's had been.

How to express his concern, though…? And, hopefully, coax out a needlessly troubled conscience…? Well, when dealing with the bundle of nerves and neuroses named Rodney McKay, there was only ever one way.

No muss, no fuss, no dressing it up in sentimental nonsense – just straight to the dryly sarcastic point.

"You could do with some sleep too, Rodney… ye look as bloody crappy as I feel…"

"Oh, thank you for that typically astute diagnosis, you prince of voodoo darkness…"

The reaction had been just as sarcastic – but not quite as sarcastic as Carson Beckett had quietly hoped. And the subdued, barely audible softness of Rodney's next words only confirmed his suspicions.

"I'm – I'm fine, Carson, it's been… um… well, it's you we've been worried sick about…"

"Aye, lad, I know… an' I'm sorry for all the worry I've caused ye…" Carson replied just as softly – resigning himself to the tricky task of going for broke as another awkward silence set in between them. "But I'm goin' to be alright, Rodney… an' – an' you shouldnae be blamin' yourself for any o' this… none of what happened to me was your fault, you… well, ye were only tryin' to do right by me, an'…well, you couldnae have known what all those nice things ye said about me would lead to…"

Startled at having his thoughts read so accurately, Rodney then managed to find a dryly rueful smile. He'd heard the same assurances constantly, of course, since their return from Vora. Throughout the nightmare of watching his best friend fight for his life, he'd had half the city tell him the exact same thing.

But the assurances now spoken through that familiar, unfailingly gentle smile had been the only ones he'd believed – the pure relief on Rodney's face thankfully lifting much of the nervous awkwardness between them.

Even so, his next words still held a niggling concern as Rodney re-met those blameless blue eyes. Although much of the swelling and bruising had faded now, Carson's face was still a tapestry of stitches and discolouration - the brutality which had put them there prompting another soft, quietly hesitant question.

"How much of it…? I – I mean, how much of… um… how much of it can you remember…?"

"All of it now, pretty much…" Carson replied softly, smiling his thanks for a glass of soothing water. "I – I can remember them grabbin' me, an'… an' slingin' me onto that bloody horse…"

Staring down at his hand, remembering the cause of its injury, Carson then sighed, swallowing hard

"An' I remember doin' this… it – it was the only thing I could think to do for – for ye to find me…"

Rodney was wincing too now, as he watched his friend idly pick at the bandage around his wrist. Memories of following that desperate trail were still as painfully raw for him as they were for Carson.

Struck by sudden inspiration, he then brightened again while fishing animatedly through his pocket.

"Hey, Carson…? I – I forgot we'd found this, and… well, look what I managed to fix up for you…"

Still lost in thought, it took Carson some moments to identify the coolly gleaming object in his hand. When he did so, a tumbling flurry of emotions crossed his face.

"My – My watch…!" he finally murmured, too lost in astonishment and memories to say any more. He'd last seen it as a bloodied mass of resin and metal, tossed in silent desperation onto alien ground.

Part of him had hoped he'd never see it again, so it could never remind him of the terror he'd felt. Yet there had also been a place in his heart for it, a precious reminder that forever tied him to home, which had prayed he would.

Under Rodney's expectant eyes, Carson gently turned the watch over, anxiously scanning the back of its case – his smile gaining just a little more strength as a newly polished blue and silver saltire glistened proudly at its centre.

When he finally spoke again, his voice wavered between delight and the lingering horrors of memory

"I – I didn't think you'd find it… not wi' all… all that undergrowth…"

"Yeah, well, it… um… well, it was pretty hidden…" Rodney admitted, his voice equally quiet – guessing from Carson's subdued, tiredly distracted nod that he didn't need to press the point further.

Anxious to raise his friend's spirits, and his own too now, he then nodded towards his handiwork.

"I still got it all cleaned up for you, though, and… see…? It's working again, as good as new… just like you'll be too, Carson, once… well, once you're all healed up, and… well you know… all okay again…"

For all the fresh pain of his memories, Carson Beckett couldn't help but smile at that. With, perhaps, the exception of John Sheppard, few people knew Rodney McKay as well as he did.

Despite their vastly different natures and personalities, there had been an instant bond between them – a unique, special friendship which had survived everything, good and bad, that life could throw at it.

There was still one nagging mystery, though, surrounding his friend, which Carson had yet to solve. Quite why Rodney McKay didn't allow more people to see his gently considerate side was totally beyond him. Instead he insisted on hiding it behind those impenetrable walls of self-centred, insensitive arrogance. As fascinating as it was exasperating, it was something not even his closest friend could understand.

One of these days, Carson now dryly reflected, he'd get to the bottom of that puzzle, but for now – well, at the moment, he barely had the strength to tackle his own demons, let alone his best friend's.

"Carson…? Are – Are you alright…? I – I mean, if it's bringing back too many bad memories for you, I - I can take it back, and…"

Startled out of his thoughts, Carson then smiled as he sheepishly re-met that best friend's eyes.

"No, Rodney, it's okay… sorry, I – I was just… um… well, jus' doin' a wee bit o' woolgatherin'…"

The bait was there, in all its tempting glory. And rarely had Rodney McKay been so glad to take it.

"Must come from chasing all those sheep…" he deadpanned, pouring himself a fresh mug of coffee – the welcome laughter between them instantly dying as Carson's ended in a helpless cry of pain.

"Oh, jeez, Carson, I'm sorry…! I - I just didn't think, and - and... are you okay…? Should I go find you a nurse, or doctor, or… or…?"

"I'm a doctor, Rodney… an' ye can stop your frettin' son, I'm alright... I jus' f'rgot I was in stitches already…" Carson assured him – the weak grin he'd managed to find for his anxious friend turning back into another déjà vu frown.

"I – I said that to ye before, didn't I…? When – When we were back in the Jumper, an'… an'… I kept yellin' at ye, even though you an' Teyla were doin' your best to help me… didn't I, Rodney…?"

Too deeply in mother-hen mode to reply, Rodney just nodded while still fussing over his friend – a soft, forever calming voice persuading him, eventually, to bring that anxious fretting to a close.

"I'm alright, Rodney… an'… an' I'm sorry for givin' ye such a hard time back there…"

"Forget it, you were… um… well, you were pretty out of it at the time…" Rodney reminded him – his smile returning, in open relief, as that deliriously tossing, cursing friend became a distant memory.

Yes, they were still ringed by stitches and bruising, but the blue eyes were visibly clearing now. And those eyes, even as they rolled at his fussing and fretting, held nothing now but fond affection. So did the familiar, playful insult which meant more to Rodney McKay that he'd ever publicly admit.

"Och, get awa' wi ye, ye daft bugger…"

Pulling an equally familiar face back at him, Rodney then nodded back to the watch in Carson's hand.

"So do you want me to… um… keep that safe for you, 'til you're up and about again, or…?"

Thrown for a moment, Carson then smiled once more, still fingering its case as he shook his head. On Vora, it had been broken and bloodied, so nearly lost on an alien world – just as he'd been.

Now it rested in his hand, safely returned – as he now was. Whole again – just as he'd be again. Soon be again.

Rodney had recognised its significance too, since he was smiling too now, nodding his understanding. To anyone else, the simple fastening of a watch onto a wrist would hold very little importance. But for Carson and Rodney, it meant everything. As much as the very special friendship between them

It meant that the nightmare which had so nearly shattered their lives was finally, truly, over.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

So far, Elizabeth Weir's staff meeting that morning had been… well, entertaining, to say the least. As usual, Rodney McKay was sulking, muttering darkly over 'scandalous invasion of his privacy.'

And it hadn't taken too much brainpower to work out who'd committed this most heinous of crimes. When he wasn't smirking across the table at Ronon, John Sheppard was looking much too innocent.

Dryly wondering if these two would ever grow up, Elizabeth cast a rueful glance towards Teyla – her smile fading, ever so slightly, as her eyes passed by a still noticeably empty chair on the way.

Carson's chair.

He was well on the road to recovery now, of course. Laura Cadman had personally seen to that. In fact, he'd just been released back to his quarters, to continue that recovery in peaceful quiet.

And it would be several days yet before he'd even be allowed to take on the lightest duties, but – oh, what she'd give right now, for one of those wonderful smiles, the calming voice of sensible reason.

And an aspirin. Double strength.

The soft knock on the conference room screens came as a puzzling surprise to everyone inside it. Its cause, though, however unexpected, was, beyond doubt, the most wonderful sight they'd seen all week.

He was still pale, still reliant on Laura's willingly supportive arms around him to walk for any real distance. But the smile on his face was broad and unforced, full of mischief and life – and 100 percent Carson Beckett.

The first to recover, and the closest to him, Elizabeth had already risen from her seat to greet him – a proudly delighted kiss on his cheek prompting an equally familiar, pointedly ignored groan of scorn.

"Oh, jeez, pass me a bucket…!"

"Nice to see you too, Rodney…" Carson shot back, casting his friend a deliciously mischievous grin. Laughing outright at the scowl he received in response, he then glanced quizzically back at Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry to disrupt your meeting, lass, but… um... well, do - do ye mind if I sit in for a wee while…?"

Even without Laura Cadman's silently pleading look, Elizabeth was always going to say yes anyway. From her own experience of a chronically bored, recuperating CMO, Laura had her every sympathy. Her expression of utter relief alone prompted a wave of laughter as she gently guided Carson to his allotted chair.

"Yes, ma'am, he was… um… well, kinda getting a bit bored with watching Colonel Sheppard's collection of Superbowl games…" she explained, taking a spare seat beside him – her CO's reaction of outraged dismay met with a rueful 'don't shoot the messenger…' shrug.

"I've tried my best to convert him to football's skilful wonders, sir, but… well…"

"Skilful wonders…?" came the peevishly indignant response - one which had Elizabeth reaching instinctively for the coffee pot.

Oh boy, here we go...

"Skilful wonders...? A bunch o' war-painted jessies, runnin' round with half a metal scrapyard strapped to their backs…?"

John Sheppard's camera would have come in very handy at that point. His face was a picture.

If only for a few gleefully smirking seconds before the inevitable follow-up, so was Rodney McKay's.

"Nearly as bad as bloody hockey players…"

Trading 'I really want to get out of here…' glances with Laura and Teyla, it was all Elizabeth could do not to visibly cringe. Was there the remotest chance that her chief pilot and chief scientist were going to leave it there…?

Like hell there was.

And, for once, John Sheppard and Rodney McKay were in perfect, united, stereo-indignant agreement.

"Hey…!"

As she dissolved into helpless laughter, Elizabeth knew her agenda was now completely shot to hell. But as the merits of hockey, football and curling hit their respective strides, she really didn't mind. At all.

She was enjoying this priceless debate too much, anyway, to do much else but sit back and savour it. Okay, so this three-way contest of national sporting pride wasn't doing much to ease her headache. If anything, it was getting worse, but… well, all things considered, Elizabeth knew it was worth it.

Her city was safe. Her people were safe. Most of all, her treasured CMO was safe, and sound, and…

"Skilful…? Hah…! Jus' you try curlin', son… gettin' that stone bang on target… aye, that's skill…"

"Shoving some hulking slab of granite against scoring a goal with a hockey puck…? Oh, please…!"

"Hey, you want skill…? Try catching a football flying at you from an all-out Hail Mary…!"

…and Elizabeth Weir now seriously needed those aspirin.