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sga_flashficTitle: Lazarus Rising
Author: ceitie
Characters: Gen; Carson, Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,245
Warning: None
Spoilers: Everything up until and including 5x07, Whispers
Summary: In Pegasus, you take your miracles where you find them.
Author Notes: This takes place sometime in Season 5, after Whispers. I obviously took some liberties with the ending of This Mortal Coil. Also, I stole the summary from a Grey's Anatomy episode, the title from many, many places, and there's a quote by Mark Twain in there too.
Carson meets Elizabeth Weir again, or for the first time, amidst the weather-beaten stalls of the Lau marketplace. It’s just starting to snow, the flakes floating down out of the sky in that way that reminds Carson of souvenir snow-globes and old Hollywood films, and he’s tucking his purchase in his bag and getting ready to head home, when he turns away from the stall and sees her.
She’s staring at him open-mouthed, and a second later he’s unintentionally mimicking her expression as he recognizes her. She looks different from how he remembers, from the woman that other Carson Beckett knew: older, and tougher somehow, in Pegasus leathers, with her hair braided back from her face. But it’s Elizabeth Weir, for sure and certain, and Carson’s brain starts running through all the possibilities, most of them bad, that could explain the how and why of it. If he wasn’t so busy shuttling between confusion and panic, Carson might laugh at the sight the two of them must be making, standing and staring in the middle of the market like a set of gob-smacked bookends.
Elizabeth breaks the spell by closing her mouth, the surprise on her face sliding into caution and curiosity. She takes a few steps towards him, although he notices that she keeps her right hand near the pocket of her long jacket, which must contain a weapon.
“Carson – how?” Elizabeth asks. Her voice is as careful and neutral as her body language, but he can hear the tension thrumming underneath.
Carson spreads his hands out, both a natural gesture and an attempt to look non-threatening. He is aware of the pistol holstered at his thigh, but he doesn’t think he’ll have to use it. Elizabeth’s reactions of shock and wariness don’t make sense for a Replicator version, although he’s damned if he can figure out who she actually is, then.
“I’m not really him. I’m a clone,” Carson says, stumbling over his answer. He always feels like a liar when he introduces himself these days.
Elizabeth blinks, and then half-smiles. “That makes two of us.”
“Oh. But who – er, who was responsible for –” Carson says, trying to come up with a better phrase than made you. Surely he would have known if Michael had made a clone of Elizabeth, or had plans to do so.
“I was created by a group of renegade Asurans who thought that humans could help them find the key to Ascension,” Elizabeth says. She’s still watching him closely, but her shoulders have relaxed and her hands hang loose by her sides.
That sounds familiar, and Carson frowns, trying to remember the details of one of the many reports that he’d read during his convalescence. “Not just you, but all of Sheppard’s team as well, wasn’t it? You contacted Atlantis and gave them information about the Asurans. But the report said that you’d all been killed.”
“The rumors of my death –” Elizabeth starts, smiling slyly.
“- have been greatly exaggerated, so I see.” Carson smiles back, shaking his head. “But you didn’t get in contact with Atlantis again.”
“No,” Elizabeth says, her smile fading. She narrows her eyes at him. “But you were never captured by the Asurans. So who –”
“Michael,” Carson says. “From when – when Carson Beckett was captured in the camp where we were keeping the Wraith prisoners.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widen, and Carson is sure that she is making connections between him and the weapons Michael has been using to ravage the worlds of Pegasus. He looks away, says, “Well, I really should be getting back to my rooms, I have some patients coming by later. I – I won’t tell Atlantis that you’re still alive, if you – ”
Elizabeth moves closer, until she’s standing directly in front of him and he has to look at her. Her eyes are shining, and she reaches out to him slowly. He leans in, allows her to wrap her arms around him until they’re pressed together, and rests his forehead on her shoulder.
“I’m glad that you’re alive, Carson,” Elizabeth says quietly, and he barks out a bitter, helpless laugh. She squeezes him tighter. “I am, I’m glad. I missed you.”
“I’m glad you’re alive, too, lass,” Carson whispers through the tightness in his throat.
He pulls back a few moments later, wiping at his eyes. Elizabeth smiles at him, wide and joyful, and gestures at a nearby tavern. “It’s too cold out here to explain everything, so let’s go sit down and talk for a while. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Carson huffs out a laugh. “Only if I get to buy you one in return,” he says, and follows her into a large, smoky room full of long padded couches and small tables. They shake the snow off of their shoulders and boots, and Carson leaves his hat to dry by the fireplace.
Once they’re settled onto a couch with two steaming mugs of something that tastes like slightly alcoholic peach cider, they trade stories. Elizabeth tells him about how Ronon had woken up and taken out the two Asurans who had come to kill them, and how she and her team had managed to escape through the gate in one of the small Asuran vessels.
“We’ve been wandering from world to world ever since,” Elizabeth says, raising her mug to take another small sip. “At first we were searching for the Athosians, and for more information about the Asurans. When we heard that Atlantis and its allies had defeated them, we looked for information about Michael instead.”
“But you never tried to tell Atlantis that you were still alive?” Carson asks. He spent so much time while Michael’s prisoner imagining what it would be like once he returned to Atlantis, once he could see his family on Earth. Neither of those reunions turned out quite how he had expected them to, but he doesn’t think that he would ever have chosen to give them up entirely.
Elizabeth shrugs. “There was nothing for us to go back to. We never could have been trusted entirely, and I was the only one who didn’t have an original version already there.”
“I guess I was lucky in that way,” Carson says, trying to smile.
“Even though – I mean, you’re out here, not on Atlantis,” Elizabeth says, sending him a questioning look.
Carson sighs, turning the mug in his hands. “I could have stayed, but I’m needed out here more than on Atlantis. And I caused a lot of harm while I was Michael’s captive, and I want to make up for some of it.”
Elizabeth studies him, that familiar assessing look, and he meets her eyes. Finally she nods and says, in a clear change of subject, “I don’t know how busy you are, but if you have a little time to spare, do you want to come back to the rendez-vous with me? I know some people who would be very pleased to see you.”
Carson imagines meeting them, that other Rodney, the other Teyla, John and Ronon, a strange happy reunion of people who have never met. It would be something precious, the ability to greet his friends and see something close to understanding in their eyes.
“Yes,” Carson says. There’s a sense of lightness, of relief rising up inside him, as though he’s just shrugged off a heavy weight. “I’ll come with you. I think that I’d like to see them too.”
~/~
Author: ceitie
Characters: Gen; Carson, Elizabeth
Rating: PG
Word count: 1,245
Warning: None
Spoilers: Everything up until and including 5x07, Whispers
Summary: In Pegasus, you take your miracles where you find them.
Author Notes: This takes place sometime in Season 5, after Whispers. I obviously took some liberties with the ending of This Mortal Coil. Also, I stole the summary from a Grey's Anatomy episode, the title from many, many places, and there's a quote by Mark Twain in there too.
Carson meets Elizabeth Weir again, or for the first time, amidst the weather-beaten stalls of the Lau marketplace. It’s just starting to snow, the flakes floating down out of the sky in that way that reminds Carson of souvenir snow-globes and old Hollywood films, and he’s tucking his purchase in his bag and getting ready to head home, when he turns away from the stall and sees her.
She’s staring at him open-mouthed, and a second later he’s unintentionally mimicking her expression as he recognizes her. She looks different from how he remembers, from the woman that other Carson Beckett knew: older, and tougher somehow, in Pegasus leathers, with her hair braided back from her face. But it’s Elizabeth Weir, for sure and certain, and Carson’s brain starts running through all the possibilities, most of them bad, that could explain the how and why of it. If he wasn’t so busy shuttling between confusion and panic, Carson might laugh at the sight the two of them must be making, standing and staring in the middle of the market like a set of gob-smacked bookends.
Elizabeth breaks the spell by closing her mouth, the surprise on her face sliding into caution and curiosity. She takes a few steps towards him, although he notices that she keeps her right hand near the pocket of her long jacket, which must contain a weapon.
“Carson – how?” Elizabeth asks. Her voice is as careful and neutral as her body language, but he can hear the tension thrumming underneath.
Carson spreads his hands out, both a natural gesture and an attempt to look non-threatening. He is aware of the pistol holstered at his thigh, but he doesn’t think he’ll have to use it. Elizabeth’s reactions of shock and wariness don’t make sense for a Replicator version, although he’s damned if he can figure out who she actually is, then.
“I’m not really him. I’m a clone,” Carson says, stumbling over his answer. He always feels like a liar when he introduces himself these days.
Elizabeth blinks, and then half-smiles. “That makes two of us.”
“Oh. But who – er, who was responsible for –” Carson says, trying to come up with a better phrase than made you. Surely he would have known if Michael had made a clone of Elizabeth, or had plans to do so.
“I was created by a group of renegade Asurans who thought that humans could help them find the key to Ascension,” Elizabeth says. She’s still watching him closely, but her shoulders have relaxed and her hands hang loose by her sides.
That sounds familiar, and Carson frowns, trying to remember the details of one of the many reports that he’d read during his convalescence. “Not just you, but all of Sheppard’s team as well, wasn’t it? You contacted Atlantis and gave them information about the Asurans. But the report said that you’d all been killed.”
“The rumors of my death –” Elizabeth starts, smiling slyly.
“- have been greatly exaggerated, so I see.” Carson smiles back, shaking his head. “But you didn’t get in contact with Atlantis again.”
“No,” Elizabeth says, her smile fading. She narrows her eyes at him. “But you were never captured by the Asurans. So who –”
“Michael,” Carson says. “From when – when Carson Beckett was captured in the camp where we were keeping the Wraith prisoners.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widen, and Carson is sure that she is making connections between him and the weapons Michael has been using to ravage the worlds of Pegasus. He looks away, says, “Well, I really should be getting back to my rooms, I have some patients coming by later. I – I won’t tell Atlantis that you’re still alive, if you – ”
Elizabeth moves closer, until she’s standing directly in front of him and he has to look at her. Her eyes are shining, and she reaches out to him slowly. He leans in, allows her to wrap her arms around him until they’re pressed together, and rests his forehead on her shoulder.
“I’m glad that you’re alive, Carson,” Elizabeth says quietly, and he barks out a bitter, helpless laugh. She squeezes him tighter. “I am, I’m glad. I missed you.”
“I’m glad you’re alive, too, lass,” Carson whispers through the tightness in his throat.
He pulls back a few moments later, wiping at his eyes. Elizabeth smiles at him, wide and joyful, and gestures at a nearby tavern. “It’s too cold out here to explain everything, so let’s go sit down and talk for a while. I’ll buy you a drink.”
Carson huffs out a laugh. “Only if I get to buy you one in return,” he says, and follows her into a large, smoky room full of long padded couches and small tables. They shake the snow off of their shoulders and boots, and Carson leaves his hat to dry by the fireplace.
Once they’re settled onto a couch with two steaming mugs of something that tastes like slightly alcoholic peach cider, they trade stories. Elizabeth tells him about how Ronon had woken up and taken out the two Asurans who had come to kill them, and how she and her team had managed to escape through the gate in one of the small Asuran vessels.
“We’ve been wandering from world to world ever since,” Elizabeth says, raising her mug to take another small sip. “At first we were searching for the Athosians, and for more information about the Asurans. When we heard that Atlantis and its allies had defeated them, we looked for information about Michael instead.”
“But you never tried to tell Atlantis that you were still alive?” Carson asks. He spent so much time while Michael’s prisoner imagining what it would be like once he returned to Atlantis, once he could see his family on Earth. Neither of those reunions turned out quite how he had expected them to, but he doesn’t think that he would ever have chosen to give them up entirely.
Elizabeth shrugs. “There was nothing for us to go back to. We never could have been trusted entirely, and I was the only one who didn’t have an original version already there.”
“I guess I was lucky in that way,” Carson says, trying to smile.
“Even though – I mean, you’re out here, not on Atlantis,” Elizabeth says, sending him a questioning look.
Carson sighs, turning the mug in his hands. “I could have stayed, but I’m needed out here more than on Atlantis. And I caused a lot of harm while I was Michael’s captive, and I want to make up for some of it.”
Elizabeth studies him, that familiar assessing look, and he meets her eyes. Finally she nods and says, in a clear change of subject, “I don’t know how busy you are, but if you have a little time to spare, do you want to come back to the rendez-vous with me? I know some people who would be very pleased to see you.”
Carson imagines meeting them, that other Rodney, the other Teyla, John and Ronon, a strange happy reunion of people who have never met. It would be something precious, the ability to greet his friends and see something close to understanding in their eyes.
“Yes,” Carson says. There’s a sense of lightness, of relief rising up inside him, as though he’s just shrugged off a heavy weight. “I’ll come with you. I think that I’d like to see them too.”
~/~
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Date: 2009-10-03 03:53 pm (UTC)So perfect.
Ah, I'm reminded of an icon I saw "canon error. Apply fanfic?"
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