Title: Long, Strange Trip

Author: Mice

Category: Stargate: Atlantis

Warnings: h/c

Spoilers: none

Rating: PG

Summary: Carson and Rodney go offworld. How much trouble can two doctors get into?

Archive: If it's on your list, you can archive it. If it isn't and you'd like it, just let me know where you're putting it.

Feedback: Feed me, Seymour.

Website: Mice's Hole in the Wall https://www.squidge.org/mice

Mirror: http://mice.inkpress.org

Disclaimer: Not mine. They belong to many other people. But if they were mine, they'd be having very interesting adventures.

Author's Notes: Written for TJ, who begged for some gen whumping and Carson-Rodney friendship. Hope you like it! Awesome beta by Zortified and Pas. You guys are great.

~~~

What a long, strange trip it's been

~~Grateful Dead~~

"Oh, come on Carson. Last time you went through the Gate, nothing bad happened. We were out for a few hours, you delivered the baby, and it was all over and done with. Nothing bad at all." Rodney tugged at Carson's sleeve, not quite dragging him along the path through the thick forest.

Carson didn't bother replying. It would be useless anyway, as Rodney never quite seemed to listen. The planet had been checked out three or four times since the treaty was signed and declared about as safe as any planet in the Pegasus galaxy was likely to get. Major Sheppard, Teyla, and Lt. Ford were all off dealing with another village, arranging for food deliveries. The Pitarans were a relatively primitive people, and Carson had been sent to evaluate their medical situation.

Carson and Rodney were on their way to one of the most isolated villages with Jasa, a Pitaran guide. The Pitarans were very friendly, and painfully eager for medical assistance. He expected a lot of diseases that could be dealt with by some dietary correction and minor things like vaccinations -- beriberi, measles, blindness from Vitamin A deficiencies, that sort of thing. It was really far too common among people with lower technology levels.

"Something wrong?" Rodney asked.

"Hmm? No, why?"

"You're not saying anything. Where's the grumping?"

Carson watched Jasa's broad, muscular back as they walked the track through the forest. "I'm watching where I'm putting my feet. God only knows what's lurking in this place."

"There are no dangerous animals in this area," Jasa said. "They stay to the mountains. The valleys do not suit them."

"See?" Rodney said. "No need to worry."

"But you may trip on vines if you're not careful," Jasa added. Carson could hear the humor in his voice.

"You see?" Carson said. "I do have to watch where I'm going." The village of Garm was two days away from Totra, the main settlement near the Gate. They'd be stopping in the forest tonight to sleep, and they wouldn't reach Garm until late the next day. Carson shifted the rucksack on his back that carried medical supplies and his field gear. He'd enjoyed camping right enough back home, but this was all too strange to him to be much of a treat.

"Take your time, Carson. We've got a week for this mission." Rodney let go of his sleeve.

"I don't want to be spending a week away from Atlantis. What if there's some emergency?"

"Then Biro and the others can handle it. It's not like you're the only doctor we've got."

Jasa looked over his shoulder at them. "Garm is a very good village. They are good people there. It won't be an unpleasant time for you. They're famous for their feasts. People come from many days away to learn from the women there. The food is the best our world has."

Rodney looked at Jasa. "Does it have citrus in it?"

"Some things do, but not many," Jasa said. "Why, do you not like citrus fruits?"

"Deathly allergic," Rodney said.

"You could die?"

"Aye, he could." Carson nodded. "Don't worry, Rodney, I'll keep the Lemons of Doom from you." He chuckled, starting to look forward just a bit to the experience.

Rodney snorted. "I think I'll just eat my MREs, thanks."

"You've no sense of adventure," Carson said, poking him in the shoulder with one finger. He grinned.

"I have a strong sense of self-preservation," Rodney shot back, swatting Carson's finger away. "And don't poke me. I hate it when you poke me."

Carson poked him again, chuckling. "You're paranoid, that's all."

Rodney poked back. "Quit it!"

"Or what, you'll tell your mum?" Carson grinned at him evilly.

"I'll tell your mum," Rodney said, poking him again.

Carson laughed. "I'll worry about it when we get back to Earth, then."

The day passed well enough. They stopped for lunch by a lovely stream, dappled with sunlight and framed by ferns and moss. Jasa was interesting enough company, and of course Rodney always had something to say. Not that it was always interesting, but it was usually amusing.

On toward evening they made camp. He and Rodney put their tent up in the tiny clearing, while Jasa slung his hammock in a tree. "I hate sleeping on the ground," Rodney muttered.

"It's not like you could bring along your bed for this," Carson said, settling into his sleeping bag. "And you'd not get me to carry it for you!"

"Why not? You know how my back goes out."

"Rodney, have I mentioned you've a severe case of hypochondria?"

Rodney looked at him in the fading light. "In the last five minutes? No."

"Well then, allow me to--"

"And why do I have to carry the tent, anyway?" Rodney interrupted. "I'm an astrophysicist, not a pack mule."

"Because I'm carrying all the medical supplies," Carson said. "And it's just a wee little pop-up tent. Not that heavy at all."

"Every ounce, Carson. I'm going to be bent over like some little old lady with osteoporosis by the time we get home."

"Rodney?"

"What?"

"Shut up and go to sleep."

Rodney grumbled and turned his back to Carson, muttering about airborne allergens and musty tent fabric. Carson smiled and closed his eyes.

***

When they arrived at Garm, the people gave them a warm welcome, and Carson was relieved to finally be done with the journey. They'd been expected for at least a week, after the treaty was negotiated. A feast was already in the works, and it smelled wonderful.

"Please," Dara, the chief said, "join us for our night meal. We've been eagerly awaiting your arrival." He led them to an open area in the center of the village, surrounded by thatched huts of sticks. It was clean and well-lit by fires and torches, and the ground was covered in colorful woven mats that looked like Hawaiian tapa cloth.

Rodney looked around as Carson followed Dara. "It smells lovely," Carson said. "I wonder what it is?"

"Something fatally citrus, no doubt," Rodney said.

"Oh, now, Jasa said it's not a common ingredient. Surely there's something here you can eat." Carson tugged at him, making Rodney sit next to him on one of the mats. Rodney looked at the mat, picking at it.

"What's this made of?"

"The fronds of kala trees," Dara said. "Do you like it? We would be happy to give you a few to take with you when you leave. They are simple to make."

"Uh, no thanks," Rodney said. Carson watched as Rodney shook his head. "I'd just have to carry them back to the Gate."

"Don't be rude, now, Rodney," Carson said softly. "We don't know if they'd be offended at your not accepting a gift." It was partly just teasing Rodney, but he honestly didn't know if they'd be offended. Dara did look rather disappointed.

"On the other hand," Rodney said, raising a hand, "maybe that's not such a bad idea. I mean, cultural artifacts; that would be good. Corrigan would so owe me if we brought something back."

Dara smiled at them and nodded, pleased at the response. "Yes, yes. Our weavers will be very pleased that you like their work." He clapped and food and drink were brought out.

Rodney was cautious, nibbling only at the edges of things. Carson tasted each dish first, letting him know what contained citrus. "There's only these two," Carson said softly. "At least pretend to eat a little."

"Why should I have to pretend?" Rodney asked, only slightly surly. "I'll have an MRE later."

"It's lovely, though. Very like Brazilian food, really."

"What? Brazilian? How would you know about Brazilian food?" Rodney gave him a strange look.

"Oh, an old girlfriend of mine from University. Her name was Maia." Carson sighed happily as he thought of her. "She was from Sao Paolo. Took me there for Carnival one year. I don't remember much after we landed, though." He tried to think past the misty blank in his memory, but nothing came through except flashes of color, and that he'd really loved the food.

Rodney blinked. "You had a Brazilian girlfriend?" His eyes lit. "Was she hot?"

Carson snorted. Of course Rodney would ask. "Actually, yes. She was indeed." She'd actually been rather pretty, though nothing spectacular, but Rodney didn't need to know that.

"You get all the luck," Rodney grumbled.

"No," Carson said, nibbling at his food, "that's Major Sheppard." They both laughed at that.

Dara and the people of Garm treated them wonderfully during dinner, loading them down with gifts of all kinds. Rodney attempted several times to refuse, but the looks he got from the crowd always stopped him. It amused Carson, who simply thanked everyone profusely. They'd need help carrying everything home, but the anthropologists would be delighted with the artifacts. They'd get not just food in trade, but an interesting cultural exchange, from what Carson could see.

They were given a hut for the night. It had hammocks in it. "Oh, lovely. I'll have rope burn by morning," Rodney said.

"No Rodney, it's really quite comfortable, you just have to know how to lie in one properly."

"And did your Brazilian girlfriend teach you how to do that, too?" Rodney tilted an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, aye, and rather a few other things as well." He grinned at his friend, knowing he'd be jealous at the idea.

"I still think you get all the luck."

"What," Carson said, "and you've never had a girlfriend in your life?"

"Not a hot Brazilian babe who taught me the secrets of hammocks," Rodney said with a wry grin.

"I suppose they were all Canadian lasses in anoraks?"

Rodney snorted. "Some of them. There were a couple of Americans. None of them had the least interest in hammocks. Nor were any of them particularly hot. Blonde. Most of them were blonde. With that short hair thing going on." He gestured to his hair. "I like that a lot."

"You like them to look like lads?" Carson raised an eyebrow.

"No! Jesus, no!" Rodney snorted and struggled with the hammock, trying to climb in. Carson laid back into his with an easy motion and suppressed a chuckle as he watched Rodney. "I just like perky, dumb blondes with short hair. And tits." Rodney gave up his fight with the hammock to gesture near his chest. "Definitely with tits."

"Just checking," Carson said. "I wouldn't want to get the wrong impression."

"You," Rodney said, flopping awkwardly into the hammock, "are a schmuck."

"I," Carson replied, "am going to sleep. And I'd advise you to as well, for we'll be having a long day tomorrow." He rolled onto his side and listened to Rodney continue his fruitless struggle with the hammock. He wondered if the man really would have rope burns in the morning.

***

They spent the day examining children and adults. There were eighty people in the village, with perhaps fifteen others who lived outside of it in the forest. There was also a small population of nomads in the area who had come in at the promise of medical treatment.

It was as Carson had suspected, and there were many health problems that an increased awareness of nutrition would help. Some of the favorite traditional foods weren't very high in the necessary nutrients, so other things would have to be added that weren't as popular for people to be rather healthier.

From what the village elders said, the situation was worse in winter, but that was only to be expected. The food supply was rather less then, with a reduced variety. Carson doled out vaccines against some of the more common childhood diseases, and Rodney helped out by taking notes, though he complained a great deal about how his back had been left with a permanent crick by the hammock overnight.

He did actually have a very mild muscle strain, but fortunately no rope burn. "You need to lie across the hammock on a diagonal, ye daft git," Carson told him, "not along the length of it. Of course you were all bent up in the morning. Didn't you see how I was lying in it?"

"Peachy," Rodney said. "And you didn't tell me this last night because?"

"Because you've eyes and could see perfectly well how I was doing it. You're the genius, as you so love to keep reminding me. I thought you were able enough to figure it out for yourself."

"Your confidence is inspiring," Rodney muttered, rubbing his lumbar spine. "Tonight you can show me how to do it right."

Carson smiled and leaned back against the tree trunk, waiting for dinner to be prepared. He gestured to Rodney. "Come over here. I'll rub it for you. There's no need for you to suffer for your stupidity." Rodney gave him a chary look but came and sat next to him. "Here, then. Lie down on your belly."

Rodney did and Carson knelt next to him, working on his lower back a bit. It didn't take long before Rodney loosened up. Carson could feel a nasty knot easing that had to have been quite painful. "Oh, yeah," Rodney moaned quietly. "That's great. I didn't know you did this."

"Well it's a skill I usually use on the ladies," Carson said, "but I really didn't want to spend the rest of the night listening to you grouse about your back."

Rodney turned his head and looked up at him. "I sense blackmail material."

"You tell anyone, Rodney, and I'll make you sorry you ever opened your mouth." He chuckled. "Remember, you do have to come to me after every mission for your routine check."

"Remind me why you're my friend?" Rodney said.

Carson shook his head. "That's a question I ask myself constantly." He patted Rodney's back gently. "That's all for you. Up with you now. They look about ready to eat over by the fires. That was all so good last night, I can hardly wait."

Rodney sat and stretched a bit. "Yeah, it really was better than I thought. I guess I'll have that instead of an MRE tonight." He sniffed the air and smiled. "That weird meat thing with the kind of banana-ish sauce was really good."

"And not a citrus in sight," Carson added. "You'll be perfectly safe." They got up to join the people of the village, and Dara again had them sit with him in the place of honor.

"Please," Dara said, "try this. It's very good." He held out a small bowl, about the size of two cupped palms. It was filled with a slightly cloudy pink liquid.

"What is it?" Rodney asked.

Dara offered it to Carson, answering Rodney. "It is called karachal. It's made from karacha, which you call a citrus fruit, and a combination of several roots for flavor. It's mildly fermented and produces a very pleasant sensation. I know that you cannot have it, Dr. McKay, but perhaps Dr. Beckett would enjoy it."

"Sounds lovely," Carson said, taking the proffered bowl. Rodney helped himself to several of the dishes that had been determined safe during the previous meals, and Carson sipped at the karachal as he ate.

Rodney stopped eating for a moment as Carson smiled. "What's it taste like?" he asked.

"Hmm. A wee bit like strawberry lemonade, with a hint of pepper underneath. It's quite delightful, really. It's too bad you can't have a wee dram."

Rodney snorted. "Yeah. A wee dram would kill me. Just a wee bit."

Carson nodded. "I know. But still."

"What's this one?" Rodney asked, pointing at some things that looked like roasted roots lying on a leaf platter.

Dara skewered one on a twig and handed it to Rodney. "This is omak. It's very sweet."

"That's the stuff that's in this meat thing over here, right?" Rodney gestured to the one he'd described as banana-ish earlier.

"Yes. That's the one." Dara nodded and smiled. "We use omak for the sauce."

Rodney took the omak and bit into it with evident relish, smiling around the hot, soft root. "Mmm. Nice."

Carson sipped more of the karachal. He was beginning to get a pleasant buzz from it, not unlike beer or wine. "This is good," he said. "I'm thinking our people would like this too."

Dara nodded. "Please, take some home with you. We would be happy to supply it to your people as part of our trade for medical help."

"I'm sure the Major will be right pleased," Carson said.

"Not that it'll do me any good," Rodney grumbled, still chewing on the omak.

Carson relaxed as the alcohol took effect. He hadn't felt quite so at ease since he'd come to Atlantis. The scents of food and of flowers in the air seemed sharpened, the colors more intense as he leaned back against the log behind him. He could feel the smoothness of the wood that had been worn by generations of Pitaran arms and backs.

With a happy sigh, he tucked into a new dish. The flavors blended exquisitely.

"Having fun?" Rodney asked.

"Mmm. Oh, aye," Carson said. "It's a bit floaty. Very nice, really."

"Floaty?" Rodney grinned evilly. "I don't think I've ever seen you drunk, Carson."

"It's not a habit I keep. This, though, it's pleasant." Carson smiled, looking around at the forest that surrounded them, and the bright colors of the Pitarans' clothing. The contrasts were intriguing to the eye, leading him into the patterns as he nibbled at his dinner.

He felt a touch at his side and shivered. "Stop that," he said. "It tickles."

"Stop what?" Rodney asked, attempting innocence but failing miserably.

"That." Carson poked him back, fascinated by the tingle in his finger where he touched his friend's arm.

"Carson?"

"Hmm?" Rodney sounded vaguely concerned. "What?"

"You've been staring at the tip of your finger for the last ten minutes. What's going on in there?"

"Just enjoying myself," Carson said, feeling lazy and content.

Rodney's hand on his shoulder spread sensation through his entire body. "How much of that stuff have you had? You seem a lot more out of it than you should be."

Carson waved the little bowl at him. "Not that much. Less than what they gave me." There was about a third of a bowl left, he thought. He wasn't quite sure, as the bowl was wavering in his hand, the edges blurring slightly. It seemed to radiate just below the visible spectrum.

***

Rodney knelt next to Carson, one hand on his shoulder. At first it had been kind of amusing, watching Carson getting drunk, but his behavior was getting kind of strange, and his speech was slurring. He hadn't really had that much. "That stuff must be a lot more powerful than you told us," he said to Dara. "It's really getting to him."

Dara looked at Carson. "Some people are more affected than others by it, to be sure, but he will be fine." He took the little bowl from Carson's hands and set it down. "In an hour or so, he will be himself again."

"You're sure?" Rodney was uneasy with the whole concept of Carson being drunk in the middle of nowhere like this. What if he fell on the way back to the hut and broke something? It wasn't like Rodney was a field medic.

"Oh, yes," one of Dara's wives said. "Even our children drink this. It is very mild."

Rodney sat back down and let Carson lean on him. His friend was staring into the fire now, pupils pinpointed. He was obviously very drunk, but it didn't seem to be hurting anything. "He gonna have a hangover tomorrow?"

"Hangover?" Dara asked.

"You know, headache or nausea or feeling lousy after you've had too much?"

"Perhaps," Dara said, "but not much. My sister's third wife's cousin has mild headaches from it, but only if he has more than three bowls."

"Oh," Rodney said. "I guess that's not too bad. I'll just keep an eye on him. He doesn't seem to be in any trouble or anything."

"The fire is beautiful when one drinks karachal," Dara's wife said. "Some people see the future in it."

"Yes, yes," Rodney said impatiently. "I'm sure they do." He put an arm around Carson, just in case his friend suddenly decided the future in the fire looked a little too much like some hot Athosian babe.

"No you're not," Carson said, looking into the fire.

"What?" Rodney asked, puzzled. "Who's not what?"

"Rodney, did y'hear what he said? That daft bugger!" Carson gestured toward the fire, listing just a bit to the left.

"There's nobody in the fire, Carson," Rodney told him. "You're hallucinating."

"He's glowing, Rodney. Don't you see him?"

"Oh, crap. You are *so* messed up." He turned to Dara. "Look, if you guys don't mind, I'm gonna put him to bed. I think he needs to sleep this off."

Dara looked slightly concerned but nodded. "Yes, perhaps sleep would help. I'm sorry his reaction to the karachal is so intense. It's quite unusual."

"Let me help," one of Dara's other wives said.

Rodney nodded, glad for the assistance. He wasn't looking forward to trying to heft Carson into the hammock. The man wasn't terribly tall, but he was solid and it would probably be a bit of a challenge.

They each tucked one of Carson's arms over their shoulders and hefted him to his feet. Carson giggled and nuzzled at the woman's cheek.

"Hey, Carson, leave the chief's wife alone. Do you know how much trouble we could get in? You're not Captain Kirk either."

"But she's a lovely lass," Carson said, grinning like an idiot.

Actually, Rodney thought she looked kind of like a rhino on steroids, but he wasn't about to say anything. Insulting the chief's wife, whichever one in the string she was, was a really bad idea.

It wasn't too much of a struggle to get him to the hut, but Rodney was entirely uncertain of how to handle the physics of Carson-into-hammock. "Here," the wife said. She leaned Carson against Rodney and stretched the edge of the hammock down until it was about knee level. "Turn his back into it."

Rodney turned Carson, and they tipped him back gently. "Now," she said, "take his shoulders. I shall get his feet. We need to turn him a little at an angle so he's comfortable."

They shifted him and Rodney turned Carson on to his side in case he got nauseous or sick during the night. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, but it was better than leaving him flat on his back. "Thanks for your help," he said. "I think I can take it from here."

"If you need anything," she said, smiling gently at him, "please just ask. Would you like some water for him?"

"Yeah. Yes, water. That would be a really good idea. Maybe we can dilute the booze in his system a little and he'll sober up faster." He nodded vigorously and shooed her out of the hut.

He watched for a moment as Carson looked over at him. Well, more like through him. Carson's fingers traced slow, sensual patterns in the fabric of the hammock and he smiled beatifically.

"God are you drunk," Rodney said. "You are so never gonna live this down."

"You're a good bloke, Rodney." Carson sighed. "Got your head up your arse too often, but not near so bad as everyone says."

"Gee, thanks," Rodney said. "I think."

Carson giggled again, his fingers moving to his belly, still tracing patterns. After a few minutes, he sighed and closed his eyes. "They're nice people," he said softly. "Verra, verra nice."

Rodney pulled up one of the stools and sat next to the hammock. He figured he'd watch over Carson for a little while, until he was sure his friend would sleep. "Hey," he said. "You feeling okay?"

"Mmm. Aye. Okay. A wee bit warm."

The random wife came back with a bowl of water. "Here, Dr. McKay. I'm sure your friend will be fine in a few hours. This never lasts long."

"Right," Rodney said. "Thanks. For the water, I mean." He watched her for a moment as she left, then turned to Carson. "Come on," he said, slipping an arm under Carson's shoulders and tilting his head up. "Have some of this. I think you need it."

"The air tastes of lavender," Carson said, and sipped at the water. "They're watching, you know."

"Who's watching?" He laid the back of his hand on Carson's forehead. Carson was just a little warmer than he should be, but it didn't seem serious.

Carson cracked one eye open and looked at him. His pupil was still pinpointed in the dim light. "Everyone. I can feel their eyes. It's like silk."

"There's nobody here but us," Rodney said. "Try to sleep, okay? You'll feel better in the morning." He gently laid Carson back into the hammock. Carson reached out and took Rodney's wrist.

"Don't leave," he said softly. "They'll see."

Rodney frowned. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? And there's nobody here. Really. You're fine. Nobody's going to see anything."

"They can see in my head," Carson said, his other eye opening. He looked around blankly. "They're leaving thorns."

"Thorns?" This was starting to sound seriously weird. "Does your head hurt?"

"It's empty," Carson said, "but they're leaving thorns."

"What do you mean by that?" He slipped his hand into Carson's squeezing carefully.

"It echoes." Carson blinked a few times, not focusing on anything. "You have to whisper, or they'll see," he whispered.

"See what?" Rodney softened his voice, concerned.

"Everything." Carson sounded frightened now.

"Hey, hey, it's all right. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good. That's good. Don't go. They'll see."

"Carson, can you focus here for a minute? Just look at me, okay?"

Carson's face turned toward him, but Rodney could tell his eyes weren't focusing. "It's all red," he said. "Everything's moving. They're leaving thorns."

Rodney tried to get Carson to focus, but the rambling continued. Every so often, Rodney would give him more water, but after a couple of hours, Carson only seemed to be drifting further from reality. Dara and his wives had insisted this wasn't supposed to last very long, and he wondered what was happening.

"Carson," he said, finally, "I need to go get somebody. You're not getting any more sober. This isn't wearing off."

"Don't do that," Carson said. "Don't bleed like that. Rodney, your eyes; where are they?"

"Come on, Carson, you're really creeping me out here. I'll be right back. Just hold on a few minutes, okay?"

Carson mumbled something incoherent and Rodney ran to Dara's hut. "Hey, hey! Wake up in there. I need some help here!"

Dara came to the door of the hut. "What's happened?"

"Carson's still hallucinating, and it's getting worse. I thought you said this stuff wears off fast."

Dara's eyes narrowed. "This is not good. Let me go get Muraso. She'll know what to do."

"Who's Muraso?" Rodney could barely stay still, impatient with the bureaucracy, even here.

"She's one of the elders, and a healer. She knows more than anyone else here. If there's anyone who can help, it will be her."

"That wouldn't be hard now, would it," Rodney muttered under his breath.

Dara pointed out into the forest. "It's a bit of a walk, though."

"Well, you go get her. I don't want to leave Carson alone. He's freaking out on me." He looked back at their hut.

"I understand." Dara went to one of the fires, now nearly out, and lit a torch. "I'll be back soon."

"Yeah, well hurry." Rodney trotted back to the hut to check on Carson again. Carson had shifted around, the blanket tangled in his legs now. He was moaning and trying to speak, but Rodney couldn't understand a word of it. "Oh, crap. Carson. Carson, can you hear me?"

"Where are you?" Carson groaned. He had one hand twisted in his short hair. In the few minutes Rodney had been gone, he'd started sweating, skin glistening in the dim moonlight.

"Damn damn damn," Rodney hissed. He put a hand on Carson's forehead, and Carson jerked away from him, but not before he could feel the fever burning in him. "Oh, this so sucks. You are in so much trouble, Carson. You'd better be able to walk out of here, because I'm sure as hell not hauling your ass back to the Gate."

With a sigh, Rodney pulled his radio out of his pack and stuck it over his ear. "Major? Major, can you hear me?" He listened for a moment, but there was no response. "Lt. Ford? Teyla? Anybody out there?" Still nothing. "Crap. Out of range, just like I thought." He shook his head and turned back to Carson. "You do realize we're in a world of shit if this witchdoctor of theirs can't help you."

Carson mumbled something under his breath, eyes opening wide with fear. When he screamed, Rodney's heart nearly stopped. "Carson!" He ran to Carson's side, grabbing him as Carson began thrashing around. "Hey, easy! Easy! Help's coming." When hands didn't help, he weighed Carson down with his body, afraid he'd fall from the hammock and hurt himself.

It was going to be a long night.

***

Thorns. Everything was filled with thorns. His skin, his belly, his eyes; all full of thorns. They writhed and prickled from within, not quite painful but intensely irritating. They burned like match tips. He could feel his eyes glowing, and Rodney's voice hovered at the edge of his consciousness.

He wasn't alone. There were thousands in his head with him, whispering. Their voices were like fire in the wind, crackling. He tried to explain what was happening, but his words sounded strange to his ears. They were hollow, he thought. He wasn't sure who he was supposed to be.

"You," Dumais said. "It's your fault we're dead."

Carson tried to turn away from her, but the blood flowing from her ears and nose and mouth was like a tide of crimson, thick as treacle. It smelled of ripe fruit and metal.

She bloomed before him, a flower of bare bone and tangled intestines. Red on red coruscated in his eyes. It burned like sand and hawthorns. He reached out to bury her and she fractured into indigo light.

He shouted for Rodney. Carson knew he was near. He'd asked him to stay, asked him to whisper so the dead wouldn't see him and take him among them. They stood in concentric circles about him in their billions.

When his father's skeletal hand passed through his chest, Carson screamed.

***

"The last time I saw this was about fifty winters ago," Muraso said. She looked about seventy, her face like some haggard, hairless Shar Pei.

"And what happened then?" Rodney asked. They'd moved Carson to the floor because he'd been thrashing so much, and Rodney sat holding him tight to his chest. It seemed to be the only thing that calmed him. He was leaned up against the wall with Carson's back to him. He'd grabbed a blanket and wadded it up behind him to brace his own back.

Carson's fever had risen dramatically in just the twenty minutes it took to get the old woman to the hut. He was panting, and Rodney had been trying to get him to keep sipping water, but it was hard. Carson didn't really seem aware of anything around him anymore.

She looked at him, her dark eyes solemn. "After about three days, the young woman died."

Rodney thought his heart would stop. "Died? *DIED*? This shit is *fatal* and you let Carson drink it?'

"Once in fifty winters," Muraso said. "None of the younger people even remember. And our people drink this all the time." She sounded apologetic, but Rodney was past the point of caring.

"Look, I have to get him back to the Gate, right now. I mean, we're two days away from there. This is ridiculous!"

"We'll help you," Dara said. "Please, we had no idea this would harm him. If there is anything we can do, I swear we will do it."

Rodney could only feel a rising panic, and the edge of dizziness as his breath shortened. Panic wouldn't help Carson. He had to keep his wits about him. "Yeah, yeah. Look, we need to make a stretcher, okay? We need to carry him because it's obvious he's not walking back."

Muraso nodded. "Yes, right away." She gestured and Dara ran, shouting for others. "We do not usually travel at night, but this should not wait. If your people are able to treat him at home, we must not delay."

"You're damned right, we're not delaying," Rodney snapped. He tried easing Carson down to the floor, but as soon as he shifted, Carson began thrashing again, moaning and tugging at Rodney's shirt.

"No," he muttered, "don't go away. Ye must whisper. They'll take you if they see you."

"God, I wish I knew what the hell he was seeing." Rodney held Carson tight, feeling helpless.

"I can give him something to calm him," Muraso said.

Rodney glared at her. "What, another thing that's gonna poison him?"

"I can't be certain." The old woman sighed. "It's safe for our people, but he will certainly die if we can't calm him enough to move him without you holding him like this."

That was true enough, and Rodney knew it. There would be a risk, and he didn't know enough about the med kit Carson had brought to understand what would and wouldn't work among their own medicines. "Okay," he said softly, afraid for Carson's life. "I don't see any other choice."

"Very well," Muraso said. "I'll prepare the drug. Keep giving him water. We should remove his clothing and wrap him in a wet blanket to try to cool him from the fever."

Rodney nodded, numb, as a couple of Dara's wives moved to assist in stripping Carson. He felt useless and hated it. "Hang on, Carson. We're doing what we can," he whispered.

"Please, da," Carson whimpered, "don't. You're dead. Don't take anyone with you."

Rodney was sure his heart would break.

***

His blood was lava streaming through his veins, and his flesh was white fire. Nothing eased the burning, and even screaming didn't let the pressure out. Carson wanted knives, wished the thorns inside him would puncture his skin and let the fire out.

He knew Rodney was near. Nothing else registered through the blazing heat, except the chills that shook him like glaciers in his gut. The dead surrounded him, touching him, putting their hands through him, leaving thorns within. He was full of them, full to bursting, and they glowed white hot like the hearts of stars.

There was motion and he was dizzy and it wouldn't stop no matter what he said or did. He couldn't move, and that terrified him more than anything else. There was no escape. They would take him, take Rodney, strip them both of skin and muscle and drain their blood. There were fountains of it everywhere, crimson and vermilion and red like clover on a hot summer day.

They hissed, never speaking, and there were illegible runes graven into their bones. Carson thought if he understood them, he would die. He cried out for Rodney, knowing that only his friend could help him. A hand took his, and he wept.

***

It was nearing midday. Carson's fever came and went, but he'd eventually had to be tied into the stretcher to keep him from hurting himself. Sometimes he'd say something, but none of it made any sense. Every hour or so, he'd turn and vomit, but nothing came up and he'd only retch as his body spasmed, or there would be a scream or shouting, and they would stop then to try and calm him. He seemed aware of Rodney, but more by touch than anything else.

Rodney stayed close, keeping a hand on Carson's shoulder or his chest, or taking a hand in his own when they'd stop for rest. He pressed them, keeping up an exhausting pace. Three days. The woman fifty years ago had only lasted three days, and he had no idea if Carson would last that long.

Every few minutes he'd test the radio, praying to gods he didn't believe in that his team would be in range, but there was never a response.

They stopped by the side of a stream, catching their breath for a few minutes. Rodney took cool water, dabbing it over Carson's face and chest with a cloth, trying to reduce the fever burning in him.

Carson opened his eyes and looked at Rodney.

"Carson?" Rodney whispered, not quite believing that Carson could actually see him.

"Rodney." Carson's voice was weak and broken from screams and shouting and the effort of his retching.

"Can you hear me? Do you understand me?" Rodney brushed his fingers through Carson's damp, spiky hair.

"Wha's hap'n?" Carson's bloodshot eyes were slipping closed again, their blue too bright in the shade of the trees.

"That stuff you drank," he said, relieved that Carson seemed to be with him for a change. "It poisoned you. We're getting you back to Atlantis. You're gonna be okay." He hoped it wasn't a lie.

"Hurts," Carson said softly.

Rodney took one of Carson's hands in both of his. "You have to hang on, Carson. I'm sorry it hurts. We're moving as fast as we can. Please, just rest. Try to sleep. I'm right here with you."

Carson nodded and his eyes closed. Rodney strangled the tears that threatened to fall.

***

"McKay, what's up? You sound stressed." He almost passed out with relief when he heard the Major's voice.

"Carson's in really bad shape. He may be dying. I'm about a day out from the Gate. You have to meet me there. Let Atlantis know we need a medical team the minute we hit the Gateroom."

"What?" There was shock in Sheppard's voice. "What the hell happened?"

Rodney looked down at Carson. He was flushed and feverish again, sweating profusely. He hadn't let them stop to sleep, and they were several hours into the morning. None of them had objected, because all of them could see that Carson was only getting worse. He'd lapsed into unconsciousness sometime during the night.

"He drank something that the locals said was safe, but either he had an allergic reaction, or it's a lot more toxic to offworlders, because it poisoned him. He's been hallucinating, he's had fever and chills, and he was puking his guts every hour or so until there wasn't anything left to puke."

"Oh, great." He heard Sheppard sigh. "We're on our way. Hang on, Rodney. We'll take care of him and get him home."

Rodney slapped the radio off and snapped at everyone to pick up the pace.

***

He never realized that pain was green. It was like some living, growing thing, moving inside him like worms or millipedes or some slow-moving primordial ooze. He could feel the searing ache in each cell of his body.

Green tore him apart, tendrils of thorny fingers embracing his limbs with the sweetness of spider's webs. The pain tickled and the dead plucked at Carson's eyes, their bone fingers jabbing into his sockets. There was only darkness within him, darkness and thorns and green, green blood.

Screams racked him, his eyes open wide, but no matter where he looked, he saw only pain, glowing and phosphorescent.

***

It was late afternoon when they got to the Gate. Rodney and the team of Pitarans who had been swapping off with the stretcher were on the ragged edge of exhaustion. Carson was barely breathing, his pulse thready and weak. He'd been raving for about an hour during the middle of the day, and they hadn't dared stop. The fever had taken him again, and he'd been unconscious for the past three hours. Rodney hadn't been sure he'd survive the trip.

"Is he still alive?" Sheppard asked, shock in his eyes as he looked at Carson's still, pale form. He dialed the Gate.

"Yeah, barely," Rodney said, leaning on the DHD to catch his breath.

Ford and Teyla hurried to pick up the stretcher. "They're waiting with a full med team," Sheppard told him.

"Good."

The Gate pulsed with an aqua rush and Sheppard gave his IDC code. They hurried through.

Ten minutes later Rodney stood, trembling, in the infirmary waiting room as Carson was rushed to ICU. His team stood with him, but Rodney was numb and shocky. He could barely feel his own skin, and exhaustion threatened to turn his bones to ash.

"Rodney," Elizabeth said, "you need to sit down before you fall over."

"What if he dies?" Rodney said, feeling utterly empty.

"He won't die, Rodney." Sheppard laid a hand on Rodney's shoulder. "You did everything you could. Now it's up to the medical team."

"The sample you gave them should help," Elizabeth told him, taking him by one hand and guiding him to a chair. She gave him a gentle nudge and he collapsed into it.

"I should have known," Rodney said, looking up at them. "I shouldn't have let him--"

"Stop it," Sheppard snapped. "This is so not your fault, and I'm not gonna let you beat yourself up over it. You ran your ass off to get him here. You've got nothing to blame yourself for."

Rodney looked toward the closed door of the ICU. "He didn't have any idea where he was or what he was saying. He was babbling, and all I could tell was that something horrible was happening in his head. There was nothing I could do for him."

"They'll fix him," Ford said. "The med guys, they're good."

"He will survive this," Teyla said, laying one cool hand on the back of Rodney's neck. She squatted down next to him. "He is a strong man, and determined. He will not give up easily."

Elizabeth sat next to him. "You did everything right, Rodney."

"Yeah. And he may still die." Rodney rested his face in his hands, trying to bury himself before he broke. He didn't want to cry in front of them.

"You need rest," Elizabeth said. "You need a shower and something to eat and then you need some sleep."

Rodney shook his head, not bothering to look up. "I need to know he's going to be okay."

"It's gonna be a few hours before the docs know what's happening," Sheppard said.

"We will wait," Teyla told him. "As soon as we know anything, we will come for you, but you must rest."

"You look like you're gonna fall over, McKay," Ford added.

"Thank you, little Mary Sunshine," Rodney said, barely able to summon the energy to respond.

"Come on, Rodney. I'm not about to let you sit here and dig yourself into a hole." Sheppard grabbed him by the arm. "Shower time."

"Hey!" Rodney yelped as Sheppard pulled him to his feet.

"Trust me, he'll still be here when you get back."

Rodney looked at the others. "Please," Elizabeth said, "just go with him. I promise, if anything happens, you'll be the first to know."

Surrendering, Rodney let Sheppard drag him off to his quarters. "I can't sleep," Rodney said. "Don't even try to make me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Sheppard said. "I know what it's like, okay? He's my friend too." He let Rodney lean on him, and Rodney didn't object. He really was exhausted.

Rodney opened the door to his quarters. "Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing at the shower.

"Yeah, I'll be right out here." Sheppard dropped into Rodney's chair. "Don't worry, I won't peek."

Rodney snorted. "Oh, please."

He limped into the bathroom, footsore and aching, and stripped off his dirty, sweat-stained clothes. The hot water pounded into his muscles, taking some of the edge off his pain, but it only served to emphasize how close he was to passing out. He leaned against the wall for a few minutes after he'd soaped and rinsed, just trying to catch his breath and let the swimming sensation in his head abate.

Carson might still die. They had no idea what kind of toxin was in his system, or what to do to get it out. What if too much damage had already been done? What if he was dying even now?

Rodney let his tears fall and the water washed them away.

"Hey, McKay, you drown in there?"

Rodney startled. "I'm fine Major. Would you put some clean clothes on the counter for me?"

"Yeah. Give me a minute."

Rodney heard rustling and opening drawers through the sound of falling water then felt the bathroom door open as Sheppard left clothes for him. "If you're not out in five minutes," Sheppard said, "I'll assume you've passed out and I'm coming in."

"Right, right," Rodney muttered. "Like I'm helpless without you."

"You? Not a chance." He could hear Sheppard chuckle. "You're meaner than a shark on crack."

"Thank you for that vote of confidence." Rodney turned off the water and toweled off, still damp when he dressed. He had to get back to the infirmary. He had to know how Carson was doing.

"Did you even bother with a towel?" Sheppard asked when he emerged from the bathroom.

"Yes, Major. When was the last time you saw a comb?" He would have run out the door if he had the energy.

"Don't fall over, McKay. I'll be really peeved if you break something and I have to carry your ass."

"Perish the thought." Rodney couldn't get the image of Carson, pale and sweating, from his mind. He hoped his friend's situation would be improved when they got back to the infirmary.

He was leaning on Sheppard again by the time they got there. Teyla, Ford, and Elizabeth were all sitting near the door to the ICU, waiting quietly.

"Any change?" Sheppard asked, before Rodney could.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Still no word," she said.

Rodney and Sheppard sat down with them. "I desperately need some coffee," Rodney said.

"You need sleep," Elizabeth said. "Dr. Travis said they'll let you sleep in the bed next to Carson's if you promise you'll stay out of the way."

Rodney nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I can do that." He rose.

"Not yet," Elizabeth said. "They'll come get you in a few minutes. I doubt it's going to be pretty."

Rodney didn't want to imagine all the equipment Carson would be hooked up to, but at least he was still alive. He sank back down into the chair. "I don't care. I just want to be around when he wakes up." He took a deep breath. "Or if he doesn't," he added quietly.

"He will," Teyla insisted. "Have faith in him."

"I'm trying," Rodney said. He slumped back in the chair, what little energy he had left suddenly leaving him.

"We really need to go," Ford said softly. "Try to get some rest, McKay." Teyla nodded and the two stood.

"We will bring you food and more coffee in a few hours," she said.

"Good idea," Sheppard told her. They left quietly and Sheppard patted Rodney's shoulder. "You're never going to get any sleep if we don't leave you alone. You know where to find me if you need me." He looked at Elizabeth. "Let me know."

"You know I will," she said.

Rodney nodded, barely able to summon the strength to do it. Elizabeth remained, sitting next to him. She took his hand. "I've never seen you like this before," she said.

"My best friend's never tried to die on me before," he whispered. He raised his eyes to her, not moving his head. "I didn't think he'd make it to the Gate."

She squeezed his hand gently. "He's going to make it, Rodney."

"You don't know that!" Rodney snapped. "You don't know what it was like, trying to get him home, how *sick* he is!"

"I'm sure they'll be able to help him," she said, looking toward the door. He could see the fear in her face.

"You don't have to pretend for me," he said. "He's dying. The only thing I could do was try to keep him calm."

"There was nothing else you could do there. Here, there are a lot of options. We have technology unavailable on Earth. There must be something."

Rodney sighed. "Maybe," he whispered. "Maybe."

They sat, silent, for what felt like forever before Travis emerged from behind the closed door. He looked at them and Rodney's gut seized.

"Is he going to make it?"

Travis nodded. "Yeah, but we had to put him on something akin to dialysis. The toxin isn't leaving his system, and it's concentrating in his kidneys and liver. We have to clean the blood mechanically. Thankfully you guys found something that'll do it for us fairly efficiently a couple of months ago. It's still touch and go, and we're not sure how long either the process or his recovery will take, but we're confident he's going to survive now."

Rodney almost collapsed with his relief, Elizabeth's hand squeezing his hard. "Thank god. Can I see him?"

Travis nodded. "He's wired up pretty heavily. You should be prepared for that. He's not breathing on his own yet. We've got a bed next to his for you. You look pretty wrecked, McKay."

"I didn't realize this was a beauty contest." Rodney was too relieved to glare at him. Carson was going to make it. Nothing else really mattered right now.

"Come on in and lie down. We'll want to check you over as well." Travis gestured to the door.

"I'm fine," Rodney said. "Just fine. Nothing happened to me, I'm just exhausted and I hurt like hell from sleeping in hammocks and running my ass off for close to two solid days to get back here and my head hurts and my eyes are dry and... oh hell. Okay. Examine me." He hauled himself to his feet and followed Travis into the ICU. Elizabeth came with them.

Rodney sank down onto the bed as Elizabeth stood next to Carson. She looked down at him, relief and anxiety mixed in her face. The slope of her shoulders betrayed her own exhaustion, and Rodney wondered when they'd arrived back home. She reached down and gently touched Carson's shoulder, stroking fingertips along the muscle there. Carson didn't shift.

Looking back up at Travis, she sighed. "Let me know if there are any changes, would you?"

"Of course, Dr. Weir," Travis said.

"I need to go let the Major and the rest of the team know how he's doing." She patted Rodney on the shoulder again and left.

He looked over at Carson, pale and drawn inside the tangle of tubes and wires and probes keeping him alive. It was a frightening sight. The man was usually just so... so *alive*, so vital. To see him still and so frail left a cold ache in Rodney's gut. Trying to get him through the forest back to the Gate hadn't left much time for Rodney to actually look at him.

He could barely see Carson's face beneath the tubes that kept him breathing. It sucked everything out of Rodney and he lay on his back, just staring at his friend.

"He'll be all right," Travis said quietly, one hand on Rodney's shoulder. "I know it looks bad, but he really is going to make it."

Rodney nodded, not able to tear his eyes away.

"Let's get a look at you," Travis said. He took Rodney's blood pressure and temperature and looked in his eyes and listened to his chest. Rodney endured it all in silence. Eventually, Travis nodded. "You're exhausted but sleep will take care of that. Otherwise, you're fine."

"I know," Rodney grumbled. "Can I sleep now?"

"Yeah." Travis nodded. "We have to leave the lights on in here, but we'll turn them down a bit for you."

Rodney nodded. "Okay. Fine. Go away and let me sleep."

Travis took one more look at the monitors Carson was hooked to and left. "Good night, McKay."

"Night." He stripped off his clothes and got into the scrubs they'd left for him then got into bed. He turned his head toward Carson and watched, silent, for a long time.

***

The thorns loosened, but everything was still green. His blood was ice and blue and his head was no longer attached to his body. He could feel Rodney breathing nearby.

Carson moaned and his bones twitched inside his skin. His father stood over him, mouth moving, with nothing coming out. "What?" Carson asked him. "What do you want, da?"

One bone finger pointed. Carson looked. His father was pointing at Rodney. Rodney glowed with preternatural light, a dark spot in the darkness, limned with twilight. There were stars glowing inside him.

"No, da. No, please. He's my friend. He tries so hard."

Empty sockets stared at him. Carson shivered. The thorns tightened again. They expanded in his head, threatening to push his skull apart from within.

His father melted into the earth.

***

Rodney woke to the sound of choking as Carson fought the ventilator. He hit the panic button and shouted for a doctor, then hurried to Carson's side. "Easy," he said, "take it easy, Carson. You're okay. You're home. Try to relax." He put a hand on Carson's chest, trying to reassure him.

The medical team came pounding in and Rodney was shoved aside, but he didn't care. Carson was breathing on his own again. It was an improvement. He'd take anything now, any small shift for the better.

Sitting back down on the bed, he watched as they worked on his friend, removing the ventilator carefully. Carson didn't seem coherent, but that didn't matter either.

When the med team was done, Travis turned to him. "He's not unconscious anymore, but he's not really with us either. He needs rest, so don't disturb him."

Rodney nodded. "I'll just watch from over here." He gestured. "Believe me, I don't want to do anything that'll hurt him." Travis nodded and noted Carson's chart. "I should let Elizabeth and the others know," Rodney said.

"You do that," Travis agreed. "But get dressed first."

"Like I'm gonna walk down the halls looking like this," Rodney snorted. Travis just grinned. "How's the whole dialysis thing going?" Rodney asked.

"Not done yet, but it's looking much better. We'll be doing some kidney and liver function tests a little later this morning. Are you sure you've had enough rest?'

"I can't," he said. "Not like this. Besides, I'm starving."

"Good. Eat while you're out. We'll have more news for you when you get back."

"He's not gonna die on me while I'm out, is he?" Rodney asked.

"I'd say it's very unlikely," Travis said. He patted Rodney's shoulder. "Go on. We'll call you if anything changes."

***

Elizabeth turned as he entered her office. "Hey," Rodney said.

"Good morning, Rodney. How's Carson doing? Better, I hope, seeing as you're here."

"He's breathing on his own now. They pulled the ventilator a few minutes ago."

"Excellent. Will you be joining us for the morning briefing?" She gestured to the chair before her desk.

He nodded. "Yeah. I should do something to get my mind off this." He leaned an elbow on her desk as he sat.

"You were taking this so hard last night. I was worried about you." She poured him a cup of coffee. He took it and sipped, letting the bitter sting wake his tongue.

"Last night I'd been on my feet for almost three solid days. A little sleep tends to make me more myself. That, and breakfast didn't hurt either."

"You still look tired."

He rolled his eyes. "Hello. Three solid days on my feet here."

She smiled. "You do sound much more like your usual self."

"Thank you so much. Your compassion astounds me."

"I hope you'll have a mission report ready," she said. "I know you've been a little preoccupied, but we do need it."

He sighed. "I'll have it for you. Did Zelenka get the paperwork done on the naquadah generator maintenance for me?"

"Yes." She nodded. "He's been very reliable while you've been offworld."

"Good. Good." He rose and headed for the conference room. "Shall we?"

She rose to join him.

***

It was like rising through deep water. The pain was less, but still overwhelming. Carson struggled to breathe, the air viscous and violet-tinged in his lungs. He heard familiar voices around him, but none of them was Rodney.

Had his father taken Rodney with him? He couldn't take the thought. The tears in his eyes were like stone, hard and cold and far too large. They cut and he bled.

"Carson."

He couldn't place the voice, but he knew it. He felt a hand on his arm and thorns pierced his skin. It took all his will not to cry out. He couldn't open his eyes.

***

Rodney sat by Carson's bed as he worked on a translation from an Ancient database entry. They'd moved Carson out of ICU a few hours ago after finishing the dialysis-style treatment, though he still hadn't fully come to consciousness. Sheppard and the rest of his team had been by already, as had Elizabeth.

Carson had been restless for about half an hour, and Travis was guessing he'd come around soon. Rodney wasn't feeling too patient about it. Things were better, though Carson was apparently going to be weak and ill for quite some time. There had been some kidney and liver damage, but nothing that wouldn't eventually heal.

Time. It seemed like too much to ask sometimes, having enough for what you needed. He was glad Carson would have more of it. He was still wired up like a Christmas tree, but it looked a bit less intimidating than when he'd been in the ICU. There were IV's in his hand and monitors all over him. Rodney found the beeps and quiet sounds reassuring.

When Carson moaned softly, Rodney looked up.

"Ohhh..."

"Carson?" He set his laptop on the bedside table and took Carson's hand. "You in there?" Carson's eyes fluttered and it looked like he was going to fall back into sleep, but then Rodney saw a sliver of blue. "Hey," he said gently.

"R-Rodney." Carson's voice was raspy and harsh. Rodney pushed the call button.

"You," he said. "Don't you *ever* scare me like that again. I swear I'll kick your ass."

Carson attempted a weak smile and Rodney grinned back. Travis came hurrying in, a nurse at his heels.

"What's up?" Travis didn't bother looking at Rodney. "Ah, Carson. Are you able to speak?"

"Tra..." Carson whispered.

"Okay. It's okay." He turned to the nurse. "Get him some ice chips." He sat on the edge of Carson's bed and Rodney backed out of the way. "You gave us all a bad scare. I'm getting you some ice chips for your throat. We had to intubate you when you came in, because you weren't breathing."

Carson gave a tiny nod. "Hurts," he said softly.

"I know. You're going to be fine," Travis told him. "It's just going to take a while."

Carson turned his head slightly and looked over at Rodney. His eyes slipped closed. Rodney gave a harsh sigh of relief.

"He should be awake a little longer next time," Travis said. "Go ahead and give him a little ice when he wakes."

"Right. Ice. Got it."

"We'll reduce the pain medication just a little and he should come around again once he's rested a bit more."

Rodney tucked his chair back up against Carson's bed. "He said he's in pain. Why reduce the meds?"

"They'll keep him asleep. We need him awake enough to evaluate his mental state."

Rodney sighed and nodded. "Okay. Just checking."

"Contrary to popular belief, we do know what we're doing, McKay." Travis grinned at him.

"Voodoo," Rodney said. "Go shake your rattle somewhere else." He smiled.

***

"I feel awful," Carson admitted. There was still pain in his joints, and his skin was hypersensitive. He tried not to move too much, as even the sheets and the hospital scrubs were irritating. Rodney's hand on his arm, though, that felt all right. It was warm and a little heavy, but reassuring.

Each time he'd woken, Rodney had been nearby. Once his mind had cleared, it surprised him. He hadn't ever thought of Rodney as the sort to hover.

"You need to eat something," Rodney insisted.

Carson shook his head carefully, not wanting to aggravate his headache. "I couldn't keep it down if I did."

"Travis said you needed to eat." Rodney stood and crossed his arms over his chest, a determined look in his eyes. His mouth straightened into a grim line.

"Travis can go bugger himself. I've no desire to vomit." Carson turned his face away, still too weak to do much of anything else.

"Well, well. Aren't we the tetchy one," Rodney said.

"And while we're at it, you can bugger off as well. I'm tired. Let me rest."

Carson heard Rodney sigh and sit back down. "Come on, Carson, just a little soup and then you can go back to sleep."

He sighed and looked back over at Rodney. "If I do, will you go away?"

Rodney nodded. "Yep. I'll vanish like shadows at noon."

For a moment, Carson had a vague flash of bones and of blood. He shuddered. "On second thought, maybe it's best you don't leave," he said quietly.

"Are you okay?" Rodney looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You're looking really pale all of a sudden."

"I don't know." Carson reached out to him. "I don't feel well."

"Hey," Rodney said, his voice soft now. He took Carson's hand. "Everything's gonna be all right. You just need to eat, and get some rest. They said you'll start feeling better soon."

"Travis said it was really bad," Carson said. "I don’t remember much. Shapes, really. I remember... terrible things happening. Death." He took a shuddering breath. "I knew you were near, but I was afraid for you."

A troubled look crossed Rodney's face, shadowing his eyes. "We almost lost you," he admitted. "There was nothing I could do." He squeezed Carson's hand and his voice fell to a whisper. "I don't know what I'd have done if you died out there."

Carson looked at him, studying his face and the set of his shoulders. "I know you," he said. "You did everything you could, I'm sure of it."

Rodney's eyes closed and he turned his face away. "It didn't take a genius to know you had to get home as quickly as possible."

"Maybe not," he said. "But thank you." Carson squeezed his hand. Rodney reached over and brushed his other hand gently across Carson's forehead. He didn't open his eyes.

"I didn't do anything."

"That's not true." Carson tugged at his hand and Rodney looked at him again. "You got me home. You saved my life."

Rodney made a choked sound and leaned down, hugging him fiercely. "Don't you ever do this to me again." Letting go, he got up and fled the room.

Carson sighed and looked at the still warm bowl of soup. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to eat something after all.

~~pau~~