A/N 8/8/10: I had a reviewer point out some similarities between my story and another unfinished wonderful fic here at ff dot net. I apologize for any similarities, but if there are, they are purely coincidental, as this fic was based off a plot bunny I found on my hard drive that a snippet and notes sketched out in late 2006 (according to the save stamp on my hard drive). It diverged a bit, but in the end, not really too much from my original notes (written before Kindred, actually, which just ended up working out and surprised the heck out of me!). I wasn't thinking of any other fic while writing, so I do hope no author is offended.

Back to scheduled end of fic!

Epilogue


Thirty-six hours later, Sheppard found Carson in his infirmary bed trying, rather unsuccessfully, to type on his laptop. McKay sat in one of the two chairs beside his bed, poking at a data tablet.

"Should he be doing that?" he asked Rodney.

"No," Rodney answered, not even bothering to look up. "But don't blame me. He had it when I got here."

"'He' can hear you, you know." Carson squinted at the screen. "Ronon brought me it from my office. I need to get my report to Dr. Weir before Mr. Woosley leaves."

"Biro know you have it?"

"Do you think he'd still be typing if she did?" Rodney finally looked up at him. "My report, complete with all the complicated vocabulary I could manage to come up with, was on Elizabeth's desk this morning."

"Good for you, Rodney." John looked back to Beckett. "You don't need to do this now, Doc. Weir isn't expecting it. And we have that recording Heightmeyer made."

"Yes, that recording," Rodney put in. "The one made during what was possibility the worst idea ever. Psychology is even less of a science than medicine."

"If that's true, Rodney, then why have you had weekly appointments with Kate since the first year we were here?" Carson shot back. He stopped trying to type, eyes still squinted. "I'm having a wee bit of trouble getting past the first paragraph of my report, I'm afraid."

"Screen's too bright?" John offered, though Carson's tired eyes already gave him the answer. "Why don't you dictate to someone?"

"You volunteering?" Carson asked.

Rodney snorted. "Not unless you want your entire report typed by someone that still uses the two-finger typing method."

John shrugged. "And yet I've still managed to hand in several typo-free reports." Rodney waved him off. John grabbed the empty chair next to him and settled into it. "So…that report talking about that brain tissue sample that you think Michael took from you?"

Carson pushed his laptop again. "Aye. Though I'm still not entirely sure how he managed to do so without drilling into my skull, really, and neither does Dr. Harper. I've looked at the scans, and now that we know what to look for, some of my initial trauma could have been evidence of such a procedure. I can remember the needle clearly." He reached up to the bandage on his forehead, fingering it lightly for a moment. "Either way, combined with the probe, it was most likely what caused the hematoma. No one on that planet had any medical knowledge beyond the rudimentary skills I'd taught some of them and I'm fairly certain Michael used both Wraith technology and the information he gained from me to extract the cellular material. All things considered, I'm lucky the damage wasn't greater."

"I'll bet," he agreed, though some of medical details went over his head. He was gifted when it came to math and airplanes, not medicine. "But just so that we're clear, this isn't-"

"My fault?" Carson finished. "Aye, Colonel, but I think I may need more time to truly believe that. I have no idea why he did it, but I think it has to do with the information he'd discovered about my time on Hoff. Not that a sample of my tissue would help as I was smart enough not to inoculate myself."

"And doom yourself to a possible death sentence," Rodney interjected.

Carson sighed. "Yes, Rodney. I've not a clue what he planned to do with a sample. However, we do have proof that the Wraith have experimented with human DNA."

"Teyla."

Carson nodded.

"Look," John continued. "We're not even sure he got off the planet."

"True," Carson agreed. He rubbed at his forehead and cast his eyes down to his discarded laptop. "Maybe getting someone to type for me isn't such a bad idea."

"I'm sure Rodney here won't mind."

"Hey!" Rodney protested. "I'm not anyone's secretary, thank you."

John smiled. "You know, Carson, I'd love to know why Rodney won't tell us his middle name."

Rodney paled and immediately stood up, exchanging his tablet for Beckett's laptop. "I'd be glad to help Carson out. Privilege, really."

"Is it really that bad?" he asked Carson, who was trying his best to contain his amusement.

"I'm sworn to secrecy," Carson answered. "But…"

"Carson!" Rodney hissed.

"You'll just have to find out another way, Colonel," Beckett finished.

"Oh, I will."

Rodney just glared at both of them before studying the screen of Carson's laptop. "Jeez, Carson, there are more typos in this paragraph than there is actual English."

Carson sighed. "Headache, Rodney. Brain surgery."

"Oh, so now you it as an excuse! You were fine twenty minutes ago when you obviously convinced Ronan to get your laptop for you."

Carson sighed. "Rodney. I could just tell-"

"I'll fix it," Rodney answered. "But your battery is dying. I need your power cord." He got up and headed towards Carson's office.

As soon as Rodney disappeared, Carson's face turned serious. "There is a good chance Michael got off that planet, John."

"Maybe, maybe not. I like to remain optimistic."

"That is looking at the glass half full, I suppose. That is what my mother would tell me to do. Though, if you're going to convince me this isn't my fault, the least I can do is firmly convince you it isn't yours as well."

"Fair enough," he agreed. A moment of silence passed between the two of them. "You sure I can't convince you to tell me Rodney's middle name?"

"Oh no," Carson answered. "Some things, Colonel, are probably better left unknown."

"Unknown for now," John replied back. "But it's only a matter of time before we find out."

Carson simply nodded.

End


A/N: My longest Atlantis fic ever! Reviews, as always, appreciated :).