SUMMARY: And even though Colonel Sheppard had made the call, he knew it was still all his fault. Tag for Misbegotten.

SEASON/SPOILERS: Season 3. Tag for Misbegotten.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: And snippet #2 of my unfinished Carson plot bunnies is up and running! I'm posting Chapter 1 so that folks can kick my behind to finish it up. Probably 3-4 chapters of this total. Not beta-ed, so may be edited later as I finish it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis or anything associated with it. I'm simply borrowing, but I promise to return all in one piece. Eventually.


John Sheppard shouldn't have been surprised when Carson passed out, but the timing threw him off.

While they were contemplating how long it would take the jumper to get back to Atlantis, the doc had been pacing. He had been pale yes, and unconsciously fingering the bruises around his wrists, but he had still been up on two feet.

John figured it was because of what had just happened. Beckett wasn't happy, and John was positive the guilt was eating the man alive. He'd briefly wondered if he should be worried that it wasn't bothering him more.

Causalities of war. No, not even John was sure he could believe that. They'd been Wraith and regardless of their new human exterior, it was hard to completely forget they'd been Wraith. Oh, he could try and even succeed – at least far more than Ronan could – but it didn't erase any of the unease he felt around them.

It was hard to get the image of a life-sucking monster out of his head.

McKay had been talking and right behind the doc, so when Beckett suddenly stopped started to fall forwards, McKay had managed to stop him from hitting his head on the floor. A medical team must have been on standby on the Daedalus, because only a few seconds after they got the jumper aboard seemed to pass before a gurney came into view.

Beckett didn't stir the entire time. Sheppard might not know much about medicine, but he knew that couldn't be a good thing. He was tempted to follow as the gurney was pushed away, but knew he was the last person Carson needed to wake up to.

So instead his eyes met Teyla's. She gave a slight nod and grabbed the Scot's lax hand as he was pushed away.


Carson Beckett woke up with a headache. A severe headache that had him disoriented and so horribly nauseous that he didn't even get a chance to bring anything in his sightline into focus before he was trying to turn himself and started retching. He felt something sharp pull on his left arm and suddenly there was hands on him, helping him turn.

He was panting when it was over.

"Dr. Beckett?"

A voice he didn't recognize was calling his name. He blinked, trying desperately to both ignore the pounding in his head and to bring the room into focus.

"Carson." Someone's hand softly gripped his own hand. That voice he did recognize.

"T'yla?" he muttered, his voice sounding rusty. He blinked a couple of more times and the Athosian finally came into focus. Behind her was a man in a lab coat, stethoscope in hand. Carson had no idea who he was. Another blink and he realized there was medical equipment surrounding the three of them and that he was lying flat. A glance to his arm revealed an IV line, which explained the sharp pull just moments before.

The infirmary? Was he in the infirmary? He couldn't be, as he knew all of his staff and the doctor behind Teyla certainly wasn't one of them.

"We are in the Daedalus infirmary," Teyla told him. "You collapsed in the jumper less than fifteen minutes ago. Do you remember?"

The Daedulus? Collapsed in the jumper? He frowned, trying to think past the pounding. The jumper…a planet with no Stargate, Michael….Michael.

The nausea reappeared with a vengeance and he tried his best to sit up. Teyla, bless her heart, must have realized what he was trying to do and she helped him up just in time for the still unnamed doctor to thrust an emesis basin in front of him.

He brought up only bile as he hadn't eaten in…well, he had no clue. He had no idea what time it was or even what day it was, or how much time Michael had held him captive for, or exactly what Michael took from him.

/Let's begin…/

He shut his eyes at the memory, wincing at the influx of pain it caused.

"Dr. Beckett." The voice he didn't know again. "I need you open your eyes so that I can finish examining you." The voice was insistent. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he'd been holding and opened his eyes.

"I need to know what happened," the doctor stated.

"You need to know what happened," he repeated.

"Yes," the doctor said.

"I'm not even sure what bloody happened," he muttered, reaching his IVed hand to his head. He stared at the line a moment. "What are you giving me?" he asked.

"Just saline for the moment," the doctor told him. "You're fairly dehydrated, which is probably greatly contributing to the headache you have. But I can't draw any other conclusions without more information, Dr. Beckett."

More information he didn't have, he knew. "I told you, I don't know." He lowered his hand and looked at Teyla. "My head hurts."

He saw Teyla's eyebrows furrow. The Daedalus doctor sighed, turning to Teyla. "Was he this confused in the jumper or on the planet?"

"On the planet he was nearly unconscious. It took three of us to help back to the jumper. I gave him some oxygen there and he become lucid again until he collapsed."

Oxygen? He didn't remember that…or did he? He remembered being on the planet, then the Hive ship…

/"Target the camp."

"We have no time. The other hive ship's gonna be here any minute and we won't survive a battle. It's my call."/

It was suddenly much harder to breath and he felt his heart rate greatly increase as he shut his eyes again, his headache increasing in intensity. He felt himself being guided back down flat on the gurney and heard the scurry of additional feet. He supposed he'd drawn at least the attention of a couple of additional medical personal.

"That's it. Let's finish getting him on a monitor and run some O2, two liters by cannula. I want a CT before I radio the infirmary in Atlantis. Dr. Beckett, can you at least give me a pain rating on the 1-10 scale?"

Pain scale? He felt someone slide the prongs of the ordered oxygen cannula into his nostrils. He reached up to stop them, but the hands easily guided his away and secured the tubing behind his ears and under his chin. The slightly metallic smell of pure oxygen followed and he took a deep breath in.

"Dr. Beckett?"

He cracked his eyes open, the doctor and Teyla still at his side. Behind his head, he felt movement as someone else was sneaking monitoring pads to his chest. He heard the soft beep of his heart rate, and the doctor part of him knew it was too fast. He took another couple of deep breaths of the oxygen and it slowed slightly. The oxygen, much as he hated it, was actually helping clear some of the cobwebs.

"Carson?" Teyla this time, her voice filled with worry. He hated worrying her. He needed to respond.

"Nine," he finally answered. "My wrists hurt." For first time he noticed them and he shifted his hand a moment to study the raw skin. Michael had tied him down and… "And I'm…" Michael had tied him down and...

/You underestimate your own value, Doctor./

He swallowed, shaking his head slightly to clear the memory and pain and nausea that came along with it.

"Still experiencing nausea?" the doctor finished for him and Carson, nodded, thankful. "I'll give you some Compazine in a moment for it, we'll take care of those wrists, and get a scan done." The doctor patted his leg and scurried off, giving orders as he did, but Carson's head hurt too much to pay attention to any of them.

Teyla took his hand again and gently squeezed it. "I am told we will be back in Atlantis in less than twelve hours. You will probably feel more comfortable with your staff, I would imagine?"

He wouldn't feel comfortable with anyone examining him, he knew, but familiar faces were decidedly better. His breathing had settled with the oxygen, but his head still pounded in time to his still excelerated heartbeat and while he could finally recognize his surroundings, he knew he'd earned a ticket straight to a bed in his own infirmary, even if his CT scan came back clean. He tried to give Teyla a smile to let her know he was okay, but realized from the forced reassuring smile she flashed back at him that he'd failed miserably.

He hadn't a clue exactly what Michael had gained from him, just that he'd most likely revealed too much, his head hurt, and there were many humanized Wraith that were left to their deaths.

/"They are about to become casualties of war./

And even though Colonel Sheppard had made the call, he knew it was still all his fault.