Adrift Part Thirteen
Title: Adrift
Author: Westdean
Pairing: Carson/John
Rating: PG13
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Slash.
Spoilers: Set after The Tower but with spoilers of the "blink and you will miss them variety" up to The Return: part 1.
Prompt: Written for cosmonaut_elf as part of the icaw ficathon.
She requested a John/Carson pairing. Serious hurt/comfort. Serious, serious Carson whumping. The two of them getting stranded. Lots of blood and rain. John realising that he loves Carson (sort of first time). Written at speed (for me) and therefore probably incorrect in all sorts of canon facts but I don't care because writing this almost broke my brain.
Authors Note: Last chapter - whew! Thanks once again to cosmonaut_elf for the inspirational prompt (and for putting up with being teased!) and ICAW for running the ficathon (and waiting patiently).
Thanks also to my long suffering beta's and my family who put up with me writing part of this on the beach on holiday and spending weeks wandering around muttering distractedly.
There will be a sequel to this.
~SGA~
Part Thirteen
Several weeks after Beckett's discharge from the infirmary, Sheppard was back on a hunt. When not at work, supposedly on light duties, Carson had proven to be very elusive. John's concern about him had grown to the point where he knew that he was being distracted from his duties - a situation that could not continue. It was a natural concern - one that would not go against his decision, so he allowed himself to worry.
Elizabeth had not helped his search. Although hiding out was uncharacteristic of Carson, she felt he needed this time to get his head straight, and refused anyone to be patched through the radio, when Beckett was off duty, without her authority.
Kate Heightmeyer would only be drawn into confirming a programme of “Patient Led Trauma Therapy”, whatever that was, and that Beckett seemed to be doing well.
His team didn't seem too bothered either. Teyla and Ronon had full confidence in Beckett making a good recovery, and Rodney was busy fighting his irritation with John. A cautious return to the planet had found that the Wraith had visited with a vengeance.
The inhabitants had fled, the compound and all it had contained had been completely destroyed. McKay was moaning the loss of a ZPM and a treasure trove of unknown Ancient tech. John had added another set of hostile warning posters to a rather overcrowded security board - he had no doubt that the band of thieves had survived.
John finally found his missing Doc'. The fugitive medic had retreated to a balcony in the tower that held the Chair - a good move on his part as no-one would expect him to go there - but John, knowing that Carson would not go too far from a transporter in case of a medical emergency, had finally worked it out.
Beckett had made himself cosy. A couple of cushions served as a makeshift sun lounger, a small cool-box sheltered an earthenware bottle, its handle tied with coloured reeds, which revealed it to be the last of an amazingly good brew that the Athosians had found on trade.
John guessed it was a present from Halling - the Athosians seemed to relish being able to treat Beckett - at last able to repay him for the medical care he had brought them, and maybe just from sheer relief at being able to actually celebrate someone's return from the dangers of the Pegasus Galaxy.
Carson's eyes were half shut - the sun warmed balcony and gentle sea breeze working their magic.
A dropped paperback lay half open on the deck. John peered curiously, reading the title upside down - 2001: A Space Odyssey.
“Hey Doc'.”
Carson lazily opened one eye
“Ah Colonel, I sincerely hope you aren't here on business?”
“No, got curious as to where you were - nice hidey hole.”
“Well I appreciate it. It hadn't been found yet - I come here sometimes to sort the mind - fifty miles of ocean view helps me to push the bad memories to the back and shore up the good.”
John leaned on the balcony rail and looked down myriad storeys to the piers below.
“I guess they were pretty bad this time?”
Carson did not respond to that so John changed tack.
“Didn't know you liked Science-fiction.” He nodded towards the dropped book.
“No, not really, not usually. I wanted to reread the last few chapters. Bowman finds himself adrift in space - separated from the rest of humanity. I wanted to see how Arthur C Clarke had expressed that - that sense of isolation. I'm struggling myself to find words to describe it - wanted another viewpoint.”
“God, Carson! We never gave up looking, never abandoned the search.”
“John - of course you didn't. I know that. I've seen you when you were looking for Aiden - I never doubted that my friends would stop looking but the numbers were against it.”
“Numbers?”
“A normal Stargate in Pegasus has seven chevrons forming a gate address from a combination of thirty six Ancient symbols. There are six thousand Stargates and Rodney told me once that they put in reach over 100 billion stars in the Pegasus galaxy. That's an awfully large number of gate addresses, John. A cold total of numbers against which human optimism is a very thin shield. I had plenty of time to think about that.”
John almost stepped from the balcony edge- almost knelt and crushed Carson in his arms to help him forget the cold, impersonal statistics of an alien galaxy that had nearly taken him away forever. He stayed against the rail, hands gripping tightly.
“And did he?” He tried to say it lightly.
“Did he what?”
“Express how you felt for you?”
“Tell you the truth son - I fell asleep long before I reached that part. I'm enjoying the fresh air, went too long without it. Atlantis can be very soothing, it reminds me of trips to the Isles, that is if you manage to forget that it's an alien spaceship in another galaxy.”
John allowed a trademark smirk to grace his lips. Atlantis likes you Carson, it has its heart back and it's making you welcome.
“And how are those memories?” John was probing again.
“Well you know yourself lad - I'll learn to live with them.
“And it wasn't all bad.”
John stared at Beckett in disbelief.
The Scot gave a slight smile.
“I don't remember too much of the trip back to the 'gate, probably just as well - it was like a painful waking dream - but at one point I remember being kissed gently, held against a cheek that was wet with more than rain.”
Carson looked at John intently - he had hung his head, seemingly looking at his boots and then out across the ocean avoiding Carson's eyes. But he heard him.
“You daft bugger - no, make that a pair of daft buggers.”
Carson suddenly moved off his cushions in a semi-roll to where John stood against the rail. He reached up two hands to grip John's forearms with a surprising strength and yanked hard, causing Sheppard to almost tumble to his knees.
John found himself sprawled across Carson's crossed legs, nose pulled firmly into a soft jumper. He struggled to free himself from the indignity, but only managed to look up into Carson's face. He was being gazed at by a pair of eyes, no longer dulled with pain or exhaustion, but shining as blue as Atlantis herself, the gleam accentuated by a sheen of wetness.
Carson had released his arms only to move his hands to firmly hold the sides of John's face and then pulled him forward again to crush his lips in a bruising kiss. John stilled in shock, his mind trying to grasp what was happening. Carson - Carson! - wanted him too.
It was too much to take in. To go from keeping his feelings so rigidly under control, to realising that he could let the man know how he felt and that, wonderfully, unbelievably, he knew already.
This felt so right, so perfect - Beckett was all the things that had been missing from his life, everything that he had ever wanted. It was like being anchored in a safe harbour at last. John relaxed into the kiss and just let himself feel.
John finally became aware of a certain desperate quality to the thorough kissing that he was being given and opened his eyes to see Carson's eyes fixed on his, a heartfelt appeal in their depths.
The Scot broke off, stroked a soft finger across John's lips and whispered, “I've come to a decision about how I deal with what it felt like in that hell hole, and that is that I never, never want to feel like that again. I'm guessing and I hope, pray that I'm right - that you don't either.”
John responded in the only way he could think of at that moment, the only way that could release the pressure inside him. He wrapped his hands around Carson's head and kissed him back as though it was the last thing that he would ever do alive, until they both broke for air breathing heavily and with a pair of identical grins on their faces.
“Come here you.” John's voice was rough as he pulled Carson back towards the cushions with one hand while spreading them flat with the other. They lay full length against each other. John's lean wiry body pressed close to the solid bulk of Carson, leisurely exploring the others body and feeling their arousal grow. Kissing with more and more desperation, eyes darkening and breaths coming in pants.
Until John felt Carson flinch and looked into the dilated pupils to see the pain that he was trying to hide.
“Your shoulder!”
“It's nothing...John.”
“It is something and I need to get you in the direction of a real bed.”
“Is that a promise now?”
John looked into Carson's flushed face, the beautiful eyes darkened with lust.
“Yes it is, and speaking as your unofficial medical advisor here, I am recommending an extensive bed rest.”
They stood. John tucked the cushions under one arm and picked up the cool box by its handle. His other arm he slipped around Carson supporting his shoulder. Carson leaned into the warmth of John's body with more need than just that of support. They made their way to the transporter in silence, not needing words.
The discarded paperback was left to flutter its pages in the evening breeze.
Fin