Author's Note: This is the last chapter- I wanted to do one more, but I've had such a block lately I didn't think I could. So it ends here with Carson.
Special thanks to Ladygris for betaing, and DaniWilder for giving me the inspiration to finish.

I'd like to also thank everyone that has reviewed/favorited/alerted this story and/or me. And Lithane for his... interesting review of Rodney's chapter.

/\_/\

Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing out, singing out

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

He remembered his mother taking him to Church, remembered the choir singing… The old Scottish bell, calling every one to attendance… He missed it. Wanted to go back to it, but doubted he ever would. The real Carson Beckett was dead; he was just a clone. Showing up at that old Church would make people suspicious and raise questions they didn't need raised.

So he settled for memories, videos and pictures. A picture of his mother at a pot-luck, her smiling face so happy. So happy… His mother thought he was dead, a technical truth even if he still lived.

A tear slipped down his cheek, slowly falling to drop on his satchel of clothing. He was packed, his meager possessions folded and carefully placed in the bag. He was ready to head back to the infirmary, but a picture on his nightstand made him pause.
It was one of him, his mother and his seven siblings. He loved them all, missed them. But he was lost to them without their understanding of the cause.

Reaching into the top drawer of his nightstand, he pulled out a piece of plain, white paper, a large, hardback book and a black ink pen. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he readied the paper.

He was dying, he knew that. But the other Carson didn't have a chance to write a last letter- he did. So that was what he was going to do.

"Dear Mother," He began, his handwriting starting to cover the page. "I miss you… I love it here… I have good friends… I love you…"

Those words and more poured onto the page, flowing with the same speed as his tears. But he felt they were good tears. His heart finally felt peace. After all he'd done, been through, seen, thought, hoped and prayed… He was finally at peace with it all.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

(Better than a Hallelujah sometimes)
Better than a Hallelujah
(Better than a Hallelujah sometimes)