Teyla stepped quietly into the hushed, nearly empty infirmary, unsure of even her own actions. The tousle-haired doctor who ruled its realm stood facing away, bent slightly over the sink. He did not appear to hear her entrance over the running water. “Dr. Beckett?” she called. “Do you have a moment?”

Turning around, surprised at her unexpected appearance, he grabbed a towel off the counter and dried his hands. “Of course, love. What can I do for you?”

Teyla shook her head quickly, wringing her hands in front of her body. “I have been having trouble sleeping.”

“Ah, I see.” He gestured to one of the many beds in the vacant room, pretending not to notice the tension in her posture. He knew she was loath to show what she felt was weakness. “Sit down, and we’ll have a wee chat.”

She sat herself on the pristine white sheets, her eyes roaming the room.

Beckett pulled up a chair and sat across from her. His mouth turned in a frown as he hazarded a guess as to the cause of her apparent discomfort. “This isn’t like before, is it?”

“No, no, of course not,” she hastily replied.

“No nightmares?” She shook her head in reply; he said, “No wraith?”

“I can assure you, it is nothing of that sort that troubles me. This is something… different.”

“Ah. This is about Charin.” He nodded and seemed to relax a bit, settling down into his chair and removing the mask of on-the-job vigilance. “So you’re looking less for a doctor than a friend.”

She nodded quickly, relieved. “Yes.” She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I feel…” Groaning, she bowed her head. “I do not even know what I feel.”

“Take your time, love. I’ve got no place to be.”

“Thank you.” An infinitesimal smile appeared, only to evaporate soon after. “Carson,” she looked up suddenly, “What do your people believe about the afterlife?”

Frowning in thought, he began, “Well, on Earth there are many religions, each with a slightly different view. Some people believe in one all-powerful god, some in many deities, each with a specific purpose. Some believe in no god at all. As for the afterlife, though, I can’t properly say.”

“What is it you believe?”

“Me? Oh.” He shifted slightly in his chair. “Well, yes, I suppose the soul can live on, somehow.”

“And do you think the same can be said for Charin?”

“I think,” he smiled, if only to clear the apprehension from her eyes, “if anyone has earned that right, it’s Charin. Granted, I didn’t know her half as well as you, but yes, I’m sure of it.”

Teyla remained silent, watching him thoughtfully. “You have given this subject much thought.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “Being a doctor… well, science can conflict quite strongly with personal beliefs. But I suppose I’ve managed to reconcile what I can and can’t prove. There are some things in life you just have to accept without evidence.”

She agreed, nodding slowly. “I suppose knowing –”

“Wouldn’t do us any good either. Aye, that’s what I’ve been thinking.” Carefully, he placed his hand on hers. “People die, Teyla. Sometimes it seems they leave us more often than they stay.” He smiled tightly, patting her hand. “The important thing is that we carry on. Charin lived a very long and fruitful life. Now, you and I have a lot to be thankful for. You can take it and run, move on with our life with Charin living in your memory… or you can dwell on it and never let yourself be happy.”

A gentle smile graced Teyla’s face, though the strain around her mouth impeded it slightly and gave away her unshed tears.

“You’ll be all right?”

“Yes, Carson,” she squeezed his hand in her own and blinked quickly.

“Would you like me to give you something to help you sleep?”

“I will be fine, Carson, thank you.”

“Very well.” Pulling his hand gently back, he stood up with a last reassuring smile and pushed his chair back to its place.

---

Now she stood amid the solemn crowd lit by a sallow blue glow. The magnificent, eerie music swirled around the cold metal box that held what remained of the doctor she once knew. The music, the impassive casket, the sight of Colonel Sheppard in his finest attire, pricked her eyes with impending tears.

Worse than the tears would be the looming emptiness.

As her companions bore the coffin through the gate, it was all she could do to remember the comforting words that very man had bestowed upon her, unknowing of their future wisdom.

Yes, she was sure of it. Somewhere, they would meet again.