Fic: Aleatoric Life 4/25: Pensieroso
Title: Aleatoric Life 4: Pensieroso
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Beckett, Emmagan, Dex
Relationships: Beckett/McKay/Sheppard,
Rating: PG-13, though the series as a whole is NC-17
Warnings: Mention of non-con, major character whumpage.
Spoilers: None this part
Summary: They had rescued him, but they had yet to truly bring him safely home. Part of the Aleatoric Life series.
Disclaimer: Undoubtedly I own them, and a whole lot of other things, in some universe, but not this one.
They arrived in the infirmary together-- John, Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon.
"What's all this?" Carson asked.
"We thought we should bring you home together, if that's okay," John answered.
Teyla nodded. "A journey such as this begun together should end together."
"I see." He did, too. They had rescued him, but they had yet to truly bring him safely home. He had an inkling that their care wouldn't end when he was over the threshold of his apartment, either. He looked into each of their faces. Ronon's eyes flashed fire and as always Carson felt like he was in the presence of some wild beast that had chosen to shelter and protect him for reasons of its own. Teyla was watching him with compassion overlaying her usual serenity. John's look was guarded and intentionally bland, as was so often the case when they were in public, but there was a flash of warmth in his eyes that Carson had learned to recognise. Rodney's face was the most expressive, but filled with so many emotions-- anger, sorrow, concern, apology, hurt, worry, fear-- it was almost painful to see. No, these four would stay with him until he was working again, smiling again, some modicum of normal. "Thank you."
"We brought you some clothes," John said, holding up the bundle. Carson recognised the pair of jeans, soft from many wearings, and his favourite sweater.
"Thank you, Colonel. I'll just change, then, if you'll leave me a moment."
As soon as they stepped out, Doctor Castillon approached. "Doctor McKay, may I speak with you a moment?"
"Sure," Rodney said, following the French doctor.
Castillon led him into an office and shut the door, then turned and studied Rodney. "Doctor McKay, I have observed that you and Doctor Beckett are very close." He held up a hand to stop Rodney speaking. "I'm not trying to pry. You are his good friend. I need to share some concerns I have."
"What's up?" John asked when Rodney returned looking pale and shaken.
The door to Carson's infirmary room opened. "Tell you later," Rodney murmured.
Carson stood fretting at the cuffs of his sweater, looking strangely lost and vulnerable. "Well, let's go, then."
Castillon handed him a couple of bottles of pills. "You have an appointment with Kate tomorrow at 3. Don't forget."
"I won't. Thank you, Hugo."
***
Walking the halls of Atlantis was like running the gauntlet. While there had been no official statement on what had happened to their chief medical officer, everyone in the city knew the story. Some people, used to the physically demonstrative doctor, reached out to touch, to express their happiness at seeing him up and about. Others seemed entirely at a loss and merely stuttered platitudes while smiling tightly. Still others backed away from him, as if rape were somehow contagious. The short walk to the transporter outside the infirmary and the slightly longer walk from transporter to Carson's apartment left him twitching with nerves and Ronon growling at anyone who came too close.
Carson sagged with relief when the door to his apartment closed behind him. He stared around him, feeling like a stranger. He had left this apartment the morning of the mission to M7R-225 a happy man, having spent the night in the arms of his lovers. He returned now, nearly three weeks later, with a sense of vague dread coiling in his stomach. The apartment felt empty and dead now, wrong. He walked through, leaving the others to their own devices. On the end table next to the couch sat a book of sudoku puzzles-- John's newest choice of diversion. In the small kitchenette were a coffee grinder-- Rodney's-- and a bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain, undoubtedly fresh off the Daedalus. While Carson enjoyed the coffee, he mostly kept it for Rodney.
He pulled the pill bottles out of his pocket and set them on the shelf in the bathroom, staring at them. Sleeping pills, antidepressant. How had he gotten to this?
In the bedroom, a shoe box sat on the bed. Carson opened the box and pulled out the new pair of black trainers, designed to match his off-world uniform.
"We, uh, requisitioned you a new pair," Rodney said from the doorway, "since your other pair..."
Carson shivered and nodded. All his clothes had been left behind. He'd arrived in Atlantis wrapped in one of the emergency blankets from the jumper.
"There's a new uniform in your closet, too."
"And here I'd just gotten the old pair broken in." Carson tried to inject some levity. The sob bubbled up from nowhere and Carson wrapped his arms around the shoes and curled in on himself.
"Carson?" Rodney's voice was worried, tinged with a little panic.
"I want my clothes back," Carson said.
"I, uh, don't think we can get them. I-I suppose we could try..." Rodney offered.
Carson let out a bark of laughter, half-hysterical. "Ye'd do that for me, Rodney? Probably face an angry mob all for clothes?"
Rodney flinched. "Maybe."
"I'm being stupid," Carson said. He pulled the pillow over his head, like a child hiding from monsters. "Can you just leave me alone for a wee bit?"
There was a moment of silence. "We'll wait in the other room. Take your time."
"You don't have to wait on me," Carson said. "I was raped, not lamed."
Rodney drew in a ragged breath. "We just... want to spend time with you, okay?"
"Ronon and Teyla, too?"
"Already hustled out," John's voice said.
"Should have known," Carson said. His voice took on a more plaintive tone. "Now, please, leave me alone a while."
"Come on." Rodney said. "We're waiting in the living room. Maybe we could cook something for lunch, just the three of us?"
"The Daedalus brought fresh produce. I'm thinking tacos."
Carson groaned. "Do we have to?"
"Hey!" John protested. "It's good for you. Got all the food groups."
"Maybe you could make them edible for normal human beings," Rodney suggested.
John let out a put-upon sigh. "Okay, okay. I'll just fix mine up with hot sauce. Daedalus brought that, too-- Dave's Insanity Sauce, Scorned Woman, The Road to Hell..."
"The names should tell you something. We'll be out here, Carson." Rodney shut the door to the bedroom.
***
"Tabasco sauce, of course. Nectar of life." John continued to ramble, while they walked away from the bedroom door, not wanting Carson to get suspicious. "You should be more adventurous."
"Yeah, well, I have a healthy suspicion of sauces," Rodney said, "for which you should be very grateful, since I wouldn't be here otherwise."
John shrugged, then turned and looked between Rodney and the closed door, pitching his voice low. "So?"
"Castillon's worried about suicide risk."
John felt a chill run down his spine. "Suicide? Carson?"
Rodney nodded, looking grim. "Now that he's out of the infirmary and away from constant monitoring, it's a real possibility."
"But we're talking about Carson here. I mean... Carson?"
"He hasn't exactly been the happy-go-lucky guy we're used to seeing."
John shivered, remembering the number of times he'd visited the infirmary and found Carson's eyes bloodshot and puffy. "But they just put him on an antidepressant, didn't they?"
"According to Castillon, that actually increases the risk."
John dropped onto Carson's couch, feeling the fear settling into his gut. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Most severely depressed people can't get up the necessary momentum to actually attempt suicide. The antidepressant gives them enough energy to make the attempt."
"But... Doesn't that mean they're feeling better?"
"You still feel like crap for a while."
John gave Rodney a curious look. He knew Rodney had been in therapy under Heightmeyer since they got to Atlantis, but Rodney never talked about it and John didn't push.
"Yes, that last bit is from personal experience," Rodney answered. "The point is, we need to keep an eye on him for a while."
John nodded and sighed. "I keep thinking this is almost over, that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, then something else comes up."
"Yeah. This is going to take a long time. I only wish we could do it openly."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault the U.S. military is full of idiots with power."
John contemplated a spot on the wall for a moment in silence, knowing what he needed to say. "You could."
"Without you?"
"Yeah."
Rodney shook his head. "That wouldn't be fair to you."
"It's Carson that matters. I can never be with either of you openly, anyway."
"Being the sacrifice of the week again?"
"Rodney! You know I'm right."
"Right about what?" Carson asked.
They both jumped and turned. Carson stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his sweater replaced with a plain white tee shirt.
"It's a little chilly for just a tee shirt, isn't it?" John asked.
Carson's eyes narrowed. "The cuffs of the sweater were chafing my wrists. Now what were you two discussing?"
John glanced at Rodney, who was wide-eyed with panic. "I was saying I think it would be better for you if you two could be open about your relationship."
Carson looked down at the floor, biting his lip. "Are you leaving us, then, John?"
"God, no! That's not what I meant."
"Then there is no 'your relationship.' We're not three pairs of lovers and you can't unbraid us like that."
"Exactly," Rodney agreed.
"But to at least have someone you could lean on in public--"
"No, John. I'll not even contemplate it."
Even though Carson was disagreeing with him, John felt a thrill to see the hardness in Carson's eyes and hear the steel in his tone. "Okay. Sorry I brought it up."
Carson stepped to the couch and leaned down and kissed John, fingers trailing along his cheek. "Thank you for being concerned, love. But it would pain me worse to be able to be with one of you in public and not the other."
"All right," John answered, tongue sliding along his lips, tasting Carson's kiss.
Carson smiled, though the sadness remained in his eyes. "Now, I believe you were going to torture us all with lunch?"
***
Rodney was surprised when Carson slipped onto the couch next to him and patted the cushion beside him. John sat with a look of wary concern in his eyes. Carson merely slipped down, laying his head in John's lap and tucking his bare feet into Rodney's. Tentatively, Rodney wrapped a hand around a foot, stroking a thumb along the soft skin of Carson's ankle. Carson sighed, reached out and took John's hand, wrapping John's arm around his waist. John started to stroke with it, but Carson shuddered and shook his head. "Just hold me, please."
"Okay," John said, his voice gentle. "I can do that. Just tell us what you need."
Carson grimaced. "I don't know, honestly. I feel... rudderless. One moment something feels good and the next I can't stand it anymore."
"Just warn us and we'll stop, then," Rodney said.
"I will." Carson sighed. "I've wanted the comfort of your arms for so long."
"You've got them," John promised, "whenever you need."
It wasn't a promise John could always keep and they all three knew it. Rodney found the resentment building within him again, but held his tongue. Now wasn't the time or place.
Carson was silent for a moment, eyes closed, apparently just enjoying being alone with them for a while. Then he sighed and opened his eyes. "We need to discuss sleeping arrangements for tonight."
"We don't have to stay," John said.
"Yes, we do," Rodney blurted out.
"Rodney..." John said warningly.
Carson's eyes darted between them. "What aren't you telling me?"
Rodney licked his lips. "It's just that... Well, um..."
"Spit it out, Rodney," Carson needled.
Rodney sighed in exasperation. "Doctor Castillon is worried that you might be... um... s-suicidal."
Carson started laughing, but it had an edge of hysteria to it that sent cold chills down Rodney's spine. Then suddenly tears were spilling out of Carson's eyes before he flung his hands up to hide his face.
John and Rodney exchanged panicked looks.
"It's okay," John said eventually, starting to lift his hand to stroke Carson before stopping himself. "Just--"
"Stop! It's not okay. It's irrational and frustrating and I don't need you coddling me."
"What are we supposed to do?" Rodney asked, feeling helpless.
"I don't know. Just... Just ignore it. Focusing on it just makes it worse."
"Okay," John said. "Are we to assume you think Castillon's overreacting?"
Carson stilled. "Maybe. In his position, I'd probably be worried, too."
"But you know how you feel," Rodney said.
"God! I wish. It's all a jumble."
"Then at least one of us is staying," John said. "Maybe not in the bedroom, but in the apartment."
Carson chuckled. "Wouldn't that be a lovely excuse?"
Rodney nodded, thinking of too many mornings sneaking out at 5 AM, too many times where they'd all been in the mood upon waking and couldn't take advantage, too many talks they'd never had.
"Yeah, it would be," John said.
Carson reached up and caressed John's face. "So stay." He sat up and took Rodney's hand. "Both of you."
AN: Pensieroso is a musical term meaning "contemplative or thoughtful."
Next part
Author: SGAtlantisLight
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Beckett, Emmagan, Dex
Relationships: Beckett/McKay/Sheppard,
Rating: PG-13, though the series as a whole is NC-17
Warnings: Mention of non-con, major character whumpage.
Spoilers: None this part
Summary: They had rescued him, but they had yet to truly bring him safely home. Part of the Aleatoric Life series.
Disclaimer: Undoubtedly I own them, and a whole lot of other things, in some universe, but not this one.
They arrived in the infirmary together-- John, Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon.
"What's all this?" Carson asked.
"We thought we should bring you home together, if that's okay," John answered.
Teyla nodded. "A journey such as this begun together should end together."
"I see." He did, too. They had rescued him, but they had yet to truly bring him safely home. He had an inkling that their care wouldn't end when he was over the threshold of his apartment, either. He looked into each of their faces. Ronon's eyes flashed fire and as always Carson felt like he was in the presence of some wild beast that had chosen to shelter and protect him for reasons of its own. Teyla was watching him with compassion overlaying her usual serenity. John's look was guarded and intentionally bland, as was so often the case when they were in public, but there was a flash of warmth in his eyes that Carson had learned to recognise. Rodney's face was the most expressive, but filled with so many emotions-- anger, sorrow, concern, apology, hurt, worry, fear-- it was almost painful to see. No, these four would stay with him until he was working again, smiling again, some modicum of normal. "Thank you."
"We brought you some clothes," John said, holding up the bundle. Carson recognised the pair of jeans, soft from many wearings, and his favourite sweater.
"Thank you, Colonel. I'll just change, then, if you'll leave me a moment."
As soon as they stepped out, Doctor Castillon approached. "Doctor McKay, may I speak with you a moment?"
"Sure," Rodney said, following the French doctor.
Castillon led him into an office and shut the door, then turned and studied Rodney. "Doctor McKay, I have observed that you and Doctor Beckett are very close." He held up a hand to stop Rodney speaking. "I'm not trying to pry. You are his good friend. I need to share some concerns I have."
"What's up?" John asked when Rodney returned looking pale and shaken.
The door to Carson's infirmary room opened. "Tell you later," Rodney murmured.
Carson stood fretting at the cuffs of his sweater, looking strangely lost and vulnerable. "Well, let's go, then."
Castillon handed him a couple of bottles of pills. "You have an appointment with Kate tomorrow at 3. Don't forget."
"I won't. Thank you, Hugo."
***
Walking the halls of Atlantis was like running the gauntlet. While there had been no official statement on what had happened to their chief medical officer, everyone in the city knew the story. Some people, used to the physically demonstrative doctor, reached out to touch, to express their happiness at seeing him up and about. Others seemed entirely at a loss and merely stuttered platitudes while smiling tightly. Still others backed away from him, as if rape were somehow contagious. The short walk to the transporter outside the infirmary and the slightly longer walk from transporter to Carson's apartment left him twitching with nerves and Ronon growling at anyone who came too close.
Carson sagged with relief when the door to his apartment closed behind him. He stared around him, feeling like a stranger. He had left this apartment the morning of the mission to M7R-225 a happy man, having spent the night in the arms of his lovers. He returned now, nearly three weeks later, with a sense of vague dread coiling in his stomach. The apartment felt empty and dead now, wrong. He walked through, leaving the others to their own devices. On the end table next to the couch sat a book of sudoku puzzles-- John's newest choice of diversion. In the small kitchenette were a coffee grinder-- Rodney's-- and a bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain, undoubtedly fresh off the Daedalus. While Carson enjoyed the coffee, he mostly kept it for Rodney.
He pulled the pill bottles out of his pocket and set them on the shelf in the bathroom, staring at them. Sleeping pills, antidepressant. How had he gotten to this?
In the bedroom, a shoe box sat on the bed. Carson opened the box and pulled out the new pair of black trainers, designed to match his off-world uniform.
"We, uh, requisitioned you a new pair," Rodney said from the doorway, "since your other pair..."
Carson shivered and nodded. All his clothes had been left behind. He'd arrived in Atlantis wrapped in one of the emergency blankets from the jumper.
"There's a new uniform in your closet, too."
"And here I'd just gotten the old pair broken in." Carson tried to inject some levity. The sob bubbled up from nowhere and Carson wrapped his arms around the shoes and curled in on himself.
"Carson?" Rodney's voice was worried, tinged with a little panic.
"I want my clothes back," Carson said.
"I, uh, don't think we can get them. I-I suppose we could try..." Rodney offered.
Carson let out a bark of laughter, half-hysterical. "Ye'd do that for me, Rodney? Probably face an angry mob all for clothes?"
Rodney flinched. "Maybe."
"I'm being stupid," Carson said. He pulled the pillow over his head, like a child hiding from monsters. "Can you just leave me alone for a wee bit?"
There was a moment of silence. "We'll wait in the other room. Take your time."
"You don't have to wait on me," Carson said. "I was raped, not lamed."
Rodney drew in a ragged breath. "We just... want to spend time with you, okay?"
"Ronon and Teyla, too?"
"Already hustled out," John's voice said.
"Should have known," Carson said. His voice took on a more plaintive tone. "Now, please, leave me alone a while."
"Come on." Rodney said. "We're waiting in the living room. Maybe we could cook something for lunch, just the three of us?"
"The Daedalus brought fresh produce. I'm thinking tacos."
Carson groaned. "Do we have to?"
"Hey!" John protested. "It's good for you. Got all the food groups."
"Maybe you could make them edible for normal human beings," Rodney suggested.
John let out a put-upon sigh. "Okay, okay. I'll just fix mine up with hot sauce. Daedalus brought that, too-- Dave's Insanity Sauce, Scorned Woman, The Road to Hell..."
"The names should tell you something. We'll be out here, Carson." Rodney shut the door to the bedroom.
***
"Tabasco sauce, of course. Nectar of life." John continued to ramble, while they walked away from the bedroom door, not wanting Carson to get suspicious. "You should be more adventurous."
"Yeah, well, I have a healthy suspicion of sauces," Rodney said, "for which you should be very grateful, since I wouldn't be here otherwise."
John shrugged, then turned and looked between Rodney and the closed door, pitching his voice low. "So?"
"Castillon's worried about suicide risk."
John felt a chill run down his spine. "Suicide? Carson?"
Rodney nodded, looking grim. "Now that he's out of the infirmary and away from constant monitoring, it's a real possibility."
"But we're talking about Carson here. I mean... Carson?"
"He hasn't exactly been the happy-go-lucky guy we're used to seeing."
John shivered, remembering the number of times he'd visited the infirmary and found Carson's eyes bloodshot and puffy. "But they just put him on an antidepressant, didn't they?"
"According to Castillon, that actually increases the risk."
John dropped onto Carson's couch, feeling the fear settling into his gut. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Most severely depressed people can't get up the necessary momentum to actually attempt suicide. The antidepressant gives them enough energy to make the attempt."
"But... Doesn't that mean they're feeling better?"
"You still feel like crap for a while."
John gave Rodney a curious look. He knew Rodney had been in therapy under Heightmeyer since they got to Atlantis, but Rodney never talked about it and John didn't push.
"Yes, that last bit is from personal experience," Rodney answered. "The point is, we need to keep an eye on him for a while."
John nodded and sighed. "I keep thinking this is almost over, that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, then something else comes up."
"Yeah. This is going to take a long time. I only wish we could do it openly."
"Sorry."
"Not your fault the U.S. military is full of idiots with power."
John contemplated a spot on the wall for a moment in silence, knowing what he needed to say. "You could."
"Without you?"
"Yeah."
Rodney shook his head. "That wouldn't be fair to you."
"It's Carson that matters. I can never be with either of you openly, anyway."
"Being the sacrifice of the week again?"
"Rodney! You know I'm right."
"Right about what?" Carson asked.
They both jumped and turned. Carson stood in the doorway of his bedroom, his sweater replaced with a plain white tee shirt.
"It's a little chilly for just a tee shirt, isn't it?" John asked.
Carson's eyes narrowed. "The cuffs of the sweater were chafing my wrists. Now what were you two discussing?"
John glanced at Rodney, who was wide-eyed with panic. "I was saying I think it would be better for you if you two could be open about your relationship."
Carson looked down at the floor, biting his lip. "Are you leaving us, then, John?"
"God, no! That's not what I meant."
"Then there is no 'your relationship.' We're not three pairs of lovers and you can't unbraid us like that."
"Exactly," Rodney agreed.
"But to at least have someone you could lean on in public--"
"No, John. I'll not even contemplate it."
Even though Carson was disagreeing with him, John felt a thrill to see the hardness in Carson's eyes and hear the steel in his tone. "Okay. Sorry I brought it up."
Carson stepped to the couch and leaned down and kissed John, fingers trailing along his cheek. "Thank you for being concerned, love. But it would pain me worse to be able to be with one of you in public and not the other."
"All right," John answered, tongue sliding along his lips, tasting Carson's kiss.
Carson smiled, though the sadness remained in his eyes. "Now, I believe you were going to torture us all with lunch?"
***
Rodney was surprised when Carson slipped onto the couch next to him and patted the cushion beside him. John sat with a look of wary concern in his eyes. Carson merely slipped down, laying his head in John's lap and tucking his bare feet into Rodney's. Tentatively, Rodney wrapped a hand around a foot, stroking a thumb along the soft skin of Carson's ankle. Carson sighed, reached out and took John's hand, wrapping John's arm around his waist. John started to stroke with it, but Carson shuddered and shook his head. "Just hold me, please."
"Okay," John said, his voice gentle. "I can do that. Just tell us what you need."
Carson grimaced. "I don't know, honestly. I feel... rudderless. One moment something feels good and the next I can't stand it anymore."
"Just warn us and we'll stop, then," Rodney said.
"I will." Carson sighed. "I've wanted the comfort of your arms for so long."
"You've got them," John promised, "whenever you need."
It wasn't a promise John could always keep and they all three knew it. Rodney found the resentment building within him again, but held his tongue. Now wasn't the time or place.
Carson was silent for a moment, eyes closed, apparently just enjoying being alone with them for a while. Then he sighed and opened his eyes. "We need to discuss sleeping arrangements for tonight."
"We don't have to stay," John said.
"Yes, we do," Rodney blurted out.
"Rodney..." John said warningly.
Carson's eyes darted between them. "What aren't you telling me?"
Rodney licked his lips. "It's just that... Well, um..."
"Spit it out, Rodney," Carson needled.
Rodney sighed in exasperation. "Doctor Castillon is worried that you might be... um... s-suicidal."
Carson started laughing, but it had an edge of hysteria to it that sent cold chills down Rodney's spine. Then suddenly tears were spilling out of Carson's eyes before he flung his hands up to hide his face.
John and Rodney exchanged panicked looks.
"It's okay," John said eventually, starting to lift his hand to stroke Carson before stopping himself. "Just--"
"Stop! It's not okay. It's irrational and frustrating and I don't need you coddling me."
"What are we supposed to do?" Rodney asked, feeling helpless.
"I don't know. Just... Just ignore it. Focusing on it just makes it worse."
"Okay," John said. "Are we to assume you think Castillon's overreacting?"
Carson stilled. "Maybe. In his position, I'd probably be worried, too."
"But you know how you feel," Rodney said.
"God! I wish. It's all a jumble."
"Then at least one of us is staying," John said. "Maybe not in the bedroom, but in the apartment."
Carson chuckled. "Wouldn't that be a lovely excuse?"
Rodney nodded, thinking of too many mornings sneaking out at 5 AM, too many times where they'd all been in the mood upon waking and couldn't take advantage, too many talks they'd never had.
"Yeah, it would be," John said.
Carson reached up and caressed John's face. "So stay." He sat up and took Rodney's hand. "Both of you."
AN: Pensieroso is a musical term meaning "contemplative or thoughtful."
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