The last thing Carson expected to see when he opened his office door at the end of rounds was John Sheppard sprawled on his couch, sleeping.Carson stopped in the doorway, his clipboard tucked under his arm, and regarded the interloper on the couch. The man looked like he hadn't slept in a long time, and had probably missed more meals than he could afford. Well, John couldn't afford to miss any meals, actually. There were new scars visible on his forearms, and one on the left side of his face, from temple to jawbone.
Clearly, the Pegasus Galaxy hadn't gotten any easier after Carson left.
Closing the door quietly, Carson crossed the room and sat down at his desk. It was a sign of John's exhaustion that he hadn't woken up yet -- John was a light sleeper. Or he had been when Carson had shared his bed.
Deciding that whatever brought John to Royal Edinburgh Hospital could wait, Carson left John sleeping while he finished copying his notes into his files and taking care of paperwork. He then turned to the medical journals he'd been saving, looking for some inspiration on treating a patient's condition.
He was halfway through the fourth journal when John finally stirred. Glancing at the clock on his desk, Carson saw it had been a few hours since he'd arrived. He set the journal down and sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, waiting. John opened his eyes, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair.
"I hope the couch was to your liking, Colonel."
John's head snapped up, hazel eyes staring at Carson. "When did you get here?"
"I work here, Colonel. I tend to come and go as needed. I don't often find people napping on my couch when I return, though. Usually, people who need to see me call ahead," he added pointedly.
"I was afraid you'd tell me not to bother," John said quietly.
Carson shrugged. "Actually, you should be glad you snuck in. I've half a mind to drag you down to casualty and have the doctors there admit you for exhaustion and malnutrition. If you'd been awake when I came in, I would have."
"Ouch," John winced. "I didn't think I looked that bad. The docs at Cheyenne Mountain cleared me."
"Then they're blind, letting a man in your obvious condition travel halfway around the world."
"I had to see you."
Carson went still, stunned by the hope he felt from that simple revelation. He'd thought he was over Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. It was why he'd stayed on Earth, rather than returning to Atlantis after the furlough home. But his traitorous heart was telling him that three years was not long enough to get over this man.
"Why?" Carson asked coldly. "I thought we'd said all we needed to say at the SGC that day."
John got up, putting his hands in his jeans pockets and walking toward the desk. He stopped halfway there to look at a picture on the wall. "I realized something when I got back to Atlantis that night."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I'm an idiot. For letting you stay on Earth. For not staying on Earth myself. For not . . . for thinking it was just physical between us."
"It was just physical between us, Colonel. Your rules, remember?"
"I was wrong, Carson."
Carson rubbed a hand over his eyes. "What do you want, Colonel?"
John turned to look at him. "You did call me John, at one point."
"Very well then. What do you want, John?"
John hung his head. "I want to know if . . . if there's any chance of, well, not starting over, but, well, working through it and maybe moving on?" He looked up at Carson, and the doctor could see the hope in John's expression. "I screwed a lot of things up last time."
"Aye, mistakes were made," Carson admitted. He'd made a few himself - running away being one of them.
"I don't know how the last three years have been for you," John said quietly, "but they were hell out there. The Wraith nearly got us a few times. We lost too many people."
"I still work with the SGC, John. I've seen the reports, helped them read between the lines of Dr. Weir's writing. I know what happened." I know who we lost, and how, was what he didn't say. He knew John took some of those deaths personally.
"I've put in for retirement from the Air Force," John said suddenly.
Carson looked up, frowned. "Why?" He stood up and came around the desk to face John. "You once said flying was your life."
"I can fly anywhere," John said with a shrug. Carson narrowed his eyes, really looking at John. He looked him over, from head to toe, with a doctor's eyes, not a former lover's. The doctor didn't like what he saw, at all. In addition to the exhaustion and malnutrition, there were too many scars he hadn't noticed before, too many signs of risk taking, of not caring about what happened to him, if he lived or died in the process.
"Did Weir realize you were nearly suicidal?" he asked.
John looked away. "Funny how the Wraith and the Genii can be used as excuses for a lot of things. A lot of scars. Dr. Silverman never questioned it, either, before you ask."
Carson shook his head. He almost said he shouldn't have left the mission, but then again, if he hadn't, John wouldn't have been taking so many risks in the first place. Their previous arrangement hadn't been ideal, but it had obviously scarred John emotionally when Carson had left. Add the deaths of so many people on top of that, and it was no wonder John had been reckless with his own life.
"Look, Carson, I'm not asking to pick up where we left off. I just --" John broke off, bringing his hands up to run through his perpetually messy hair. He turned away from Carson. "I'm sorry, I should have called. I know you've got work to do."
Carson reached out and grabbed John's arm, pulling the taller man close. His other arm reached up to pull John's head down into a kiss. It quickly descended from a fairly innocent kiss to an x-rated one, leaving no room for either of them to hide their feelings.
When they finally broke off, Carson stared up at John. "If, if, we do this again, it can't be just physical. We both know there's no denying that now."
John leaned his forehead against Carson's. "It took me millions of miles between us to figure that out, but you're right. God, Carson, I love you. I'm an idiot, and I know it, but I love you."
Carson smiled sadly. "I love you too, John Sheppard. If that makes me an idiot, so be it."
John kissed him then, and Carson started wondering how long before someone came looking for him, as well as trying to figure out the logistics of the two of them on his couch, when John broke away.
"Not here, not when we can't lock the door against anyone without the ATA gene," he said in a whisper. "Besides, I think I owe you something romantic to make up for me being a jerk."
Carson chuckled. "I wouldn't object to dinner and a show." He pulled away and smiled. "You know, I've got a colleague whose husband runs a helicopter sightseeing business here in Edinburgh. I'm sure he could use a pilot." Carson shrugged at John's quizzical look. "I've got too many patients here to move back to the States, John. Plus my mum lives here."
John nodded. "I'll have to look into it. Edinburgh doesn't seem like a bad place to live. And the company is exceptional."
Carson smiled. "I'd have to agree."
"So, it's a date?" John asked, his eager puppy look back on his face. Carson kept smiling, even as he realized how much he'd missed that look. How much he'd simply missed John.
"Aye, it's a date."