Mrs. Beckett, ch 4 (R)
Nov. 6th, 2006 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skidmo_ficTitle: Mrs. Beckett
Rating: R
Pairing: Carson/OC
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Ronon picks up a stray on a mission
Laria didn’t remember anything else. She didn’t remember the Blessing. She didn’t remember Ronon carrying her down the stairs. She didn’t remember cleaning herself off or the mechanical way she put her uniform back on. She didn’t remember being unable to walk or Ronon carrying her to Sheppard and McKay. She didn’t remember their concerned faces, too afraid to ask if she was all right. She didn’t remember holding onto Ronon’s shirt so tightly that she tore a hole in it or being whisked back to the gate as quickly as possible. She didn’t remember Sheppard shouting for a medical team as soon as they reached Atlantis or McKay yelling, “Where the hell is Beckett?” She didn’t remember Sheppard pulling Beckett aside as soon as he got to the gate room and whispering calmly, more calmly than he felt, to the worried doctor or the way Beckett’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.
The first thing she remembered was Carson kneeling over her, blue eyes concerned, asking, “Can you hear me, love? It’s going to be all right now. You’re going to be all right. You’re home now, love.”
Then she passed out in his arms.
***
When she woke up, she could hear voices yelling on the other side of the curtain that had been pulled around her bed.
“It wasn’t just him, Doc. We were all willing to do it. Even McKay.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?! That you were all willing? Thank you, Colonel. Thank you for being willing to FUCK MY WIFE!! Aye, that’s very comforting!”
She thought it might be Carson, but she’d never heard him sound like that before. She’d always known he could be passionate at times, but she’d never heard him in a rage. He sounded furious. It worried her.
She sat up and tried to get out of bed. “Carson?”
The curtain flew back, and Carson rushed to her side, his face still flushed from his outburst. “It’s all right, love. I’m here now.” He reached out to embrace her, but she shrank from his touch, and he pulled back frowning.
“Where’s Ronon?” she asked.
Carson’s face hardened, his eyes went cold and his entire body stiffened. “Don’t worry. He won’t be coming in here.”
Laria felt the panic rising. Her eyes widened and she whimpered, “No...no, Carson. I need to see him. I need him...please.” She was frantic now, standing up and rushing toward Carson.
“You need to stay in bed, love. You’re in shock. You need...”
Before he could finish, Ronon had appeared behind him.
“Ronon!” Laria exclaimed, reaching for him.
He went to her and held her for a moment, whispering, “Shh...you’re safe now. I’m here.”
She tucked her face into his neck and breathed his scent. Sweat, leather, safety.
Carson was watching, appalled. The emotions on his face ranging from relief to worry to anger to resignation.
Eventually, Ronon convinced Laria to get back in bed, and Carson gave her a sedative to help her sleep and to combat the panic attack she’d had.
She wouldn’t let go of Ronon’s hand until she was completely unconscious.
***
It was a week before she was well enough to leave the infirmary. The whole time she was there Ronon stayed by her side, sleeping in a chair by her bed and taking all his meals there. It was clear to Laria that Carson was not yet ready to forgive Ronon. Even when she asked him to make up a bed for Ronon, he wouldn’t.
By the time she went home, Laria still wouldn’t let anyone but Ronon touch her. If anyone tried, she panicked, and Ronon had to calm her down. She was panicking less often when she left the infirmary, but Ronon stayed with her anyway. Carson and Ronon escorted her back to her room, and when they reached the door, Carson stepped between Laria and Ronon.
“That’s far enough. You’re not welcome in my home.”
Laria looked frightened, but Ronon simply nodded and walked away.
They walked inside, and Laria was surprised to find that her home felt foreign to her. Carson put his hand on her lower back to guide her into the bedroom, and she stiffened and moved away. The look of sadness in his eyes nearly broke her heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s all right, love. I just forgot.”
“He helped me, Carson. If it weren’t for him I would be...broken,” she finished softly, wishing she had the words to express what she meant.
“You’re not broken now?”
She just looked at him, knowing she couldn’t make him understand, and walked into the bedroom.
***
She woke in the middle of the night screaming. Carson tried to calm her down, but when he reached out to her, she screamed even louder, yelling for Ronon. Eventually, Carson gave up, found his earpiece and called Ronon on the comlink.
When Ronon arrived, he held her until her screams turned to sobs, kissed her forehead gently, and rocked her until she fell asleep.
***
Dr. Weir insisted that Laria speak to Dr. Heightmeyer. Laria protested, but Carson begged her to go.
“Please, love. I can’t stand to see you like this. Dr. Weir has requested that we both go for counseling.”
“You’ll be there with me?”
“No, love. Dr. Heightmeyer feels we should see her separately.”
Laria had never liked Dr. Heightmeyer, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. She didn’t understand why the Earthlings (as Carson called them) needed someone to listen to them and tell them what was wrong with them.
She was feeling angry and bullied when she went to her first session, and she sat on the couch waiting for Dr. Heightmeyer to say something.
“Laria, would you like to tell me what happened on PJX-735?”
“No, Kate. I would not.”
“I’d prefer it if you’d call me Dr. Heightmeyer during our sessions.”
“And I would prefer it if you would call me Mrs. Beckett.”
“Very well, Mrs. Beckett. Is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”
“No.”
“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
“That’s hardly my problem.”
“I can sit here and wait until you’re ready to talk to me.”
“Please do.”
Laria sat on the couch until her time was up, then stood and walked out the door without saying anything.
***
“Dr. Heightmeyer says you wouldn’t cooperate in your session this morning, love.”
“I can’t, Carson. I can’t talk to her.”
“Maybe next time you’ll feel more like talking.”
Laria turned away from him and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. “Maybe.”
***
“Why do you find it difficult to talk to me about this, Mrs. Beckett? I can assure you that everything you say here will stay in this room.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like you.”
Dr. Heightmeyer looked slightly taken aback, but quickly regained her professional demeanor. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re patronizing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t know what patronizing means?”
“I just want to know what you mean by it in this context.”
“You treat us like children. You sit there with that smug smile on your face, as though you know that if we would just tell you our silly little problems you could make them all go away. But, like children, we don’t know what’s good for us, and, as the adult, you must try to make us take our medicine. But it’s not always that simple. You can’t just make our problems go away. No one can.”
***
“How was your session today, love?”
Laria looked at Carson from across the room. They had come to live across the room from each other. Carson was afraid to touch her, and she was afraid to let him.
“I can’t talk to her Carson. She can’t help me.”
“Dr. Weir thinks she can.”
“Dr. Weir can’t help me either.”
He looked at her then, the same way he’d been looking at her since she got back. His forehead was wrinkled and his eyes were so sad, it hurt her to look into them. And she knew. She knew what she would do for him.
***
“What would you like to talk about today, Mrs. Beckett?”
“Carson.”
“What about Carson?”
“He’s seeing you too, right?”
“Yes.”
“I want to do this for him. You can’t fix me, but you can fix him. You said before that you couldn’t tell anyone what I said here.”
“That’s true.”
“I want you to tell Carson. Not everything, but anything you think would help him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I can’t do this for me, but I will do it for him.”
“Very well.”
“You promise me? You promise to tell him anything you get out of these sessions that might help him?”
“I promise.”
“Then ask me what you want. I’ll talk to you.”
“Tell me what happened on PJX-735.”
Laria looked down at her hands. “Do you want the whole story, or just the pertinent parts?”
“Just what happened in the temple.”
“I don’t remember.”
“But you know.”
“I remember Ronon. I remember him holding me. He just kept saying, ‘Just the two of us. In your cave. By the fire. Just the two of us.’ And he shielded me from them.”
“From who?”
“The crowd. Sometimes I can still hear them at night. Gasping and sighing and chanting and cheering. But Ronon drowned them out. He drowned everything out, the sights, the sounds, the smells.”
“The smells?”
“The whole place smelled like sex and incense.”
“But Ronon blocked it out.”
“I only smelled him.”
“What did he smell like?”
“Sweat, leather, blood. Safety.”
“What does Carson smell like?”
Laria looked up, her eyes were red, and tears were falling. “I can’t remember.”
***
Ronon had taken to sleeping on their couch. Laria didn’t have nightmares every night, but often enough that even Carson was glad to have Ronon right there. If she woke in the night, screaming or sweating or crying, Ronon would take her out to the living room and hold her. He would kiss her forehead and rock her back to sleep. Carson watched them the first few times, but after that it was too painful. It seemed Ronon was becoming everything Carson had once been to Laria.
***
“I’m going to try something different with you today, Mrs. Beckett.”
Dr. Heightmeyer pulled out two photographs and set them on the table in front of Laria. One was of Carson, the other of Ronon.
“What do you want me to do with them?”
“Whatever you want.”
Laria considered the pictures for a long time. She shuffled them around, putting Carson’s above Ronon’s, then to the right, then to the left.
Finally she asked, “Do you have a pen?”
Dr. Heightmeyer handed her a black ballpoint from her desk.
Laria looked at the photos for another minute and then began to draw on Carson’s. When she was done she showed them both to Dr. Heightmeyer.
“Why did you draw Ronon’s tattoo on Carson?”
“It means something.”
“What does it mean?”
“Safety.”
***
After four consecutive nights with no nightmares, Carson thought they might be getting somewhere, so he tried to give Laria a hug before bed. She shrank away from him, and he backed away with his hands in the air, a look of resignation on his face.
“I’m sorry, Carson.”
“You don’t have to apologize, love.”
“I know, but I want to. It isn’t just that I’m sorry for. I’m sorry you can’t touch me. I’m sorry Ronon can. I’m sorry that I’m not the woman you married anymore. I’m sorry that you’re sad all the time. It breaks my heart when you look at me like that. I’m sorry you have to be married to me.”
For a moment Carson looked like he was going to respond. Laria knew he wanted to. Wanted to say the thing that would make it all go away, that would bring them back to the way things used to be. But he didn’t. He couldn’t say it because he didn’t know what it was.
Instead, he walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. He held her for a few minutes; she was tense the whole time. Finally, he whispered, “I love you, Laria,” and kissed her forehead. Then he smiled at her and walked into the bedroom.
She watched him go, unable to move. When she eventually followed him, she crawled into bed and snuggled into his arms. “I love you too, Carson.”
As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about Carson’s scent. Sweat, soap, safety.
But mostly, home.
Rating: R
Pairing: Carson/OC
Spoilers: none
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me...sadly
Feedback: yes, please.
Summary: Ronon picks up a stray on a mission
Laria didn’t remember anything else. She didn’t remember the Blessing. She didn’t remember Ronon carrying her down the stairs. She didn’t remember cleaning herself off or the mechanical way she put her uniform back on. She didn’t remember being unable to walk or Ronon carrying her to Sheppard and McKay. She didn’t remember their concerned faces, too afraid to ask if she was all right. She didn’t remember holding onto Ronon’s shirt so tightly that she tore a hole in it or being whisked back to the gate as quickly as possible. She didn’t remember Sheppard shouting for a medical team as soon as they reached Atlantis or McKay yelling, “Where the hell is Beckett?” She didn’t remember Sheppard pulling Beckett aside as soon as he got to the gate room and whispering calmly, more calmly than he felt, to the worried doctor or the way Beckett’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat.
The first thing she remembered was Carson kneeling over her, blue eyes concerned, asking, “Can you hear me, love? It’s going to be all right now. You’re going to be all right. You’re home now, love.”
Then she passed out in his arms.
***
When she woke up, she could hear voices yelling on the other side of the curtain that had been pulled around her bed.
“It wasn’t just him, Doc. We were all willing to do it. Even McKay.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?! That you were all willing? Thank you, Colonel. Thank you for being willing to FUCK MY WIFE!! Aye, that’s very comforting!”
She thought it might be Carson, but she’d never heard him sound like that before. She’d always known he could be passionate at times, but she’d never heard him in a rage. He sounded furious. It worried her.
She sat up and tried to get out of bed. “Carson?”
The curtain flew back, and Carson rushed to her side, his face still flushed from his outburst. “It’s all right, love. I’m here now.” He reached out to embrace her, but she shrank from his touch, and he pulled back frowning.
“Where’s Ronon?” she asked.
Carson’s face hardened, his eyes went cold and his entire body stiffened. “Don’t worry. He won’t be coming in here.”
Laria felt the panic rising. Her eyes widened and she whimpered, “No...no, Carson. I need to see him. I need him...please.” She was frantic now, standing up and rushing toward Carson.
“You need to stay in bed, love. You’re in shock. You need...”
Before he could finish, Ronon had appeared behind him.
“Ronon!” Laria exclaimed, reaching for him.
He went to her and held her for a moment, whispering, “Shh...you’re safe now. I’m here.”
She tucked her face into his neck and breathed his scent. Sweat, leather, safety.
Carson was watching, appalled. The emotions on his face ranging from relief to worry to anger to resignation.
Eventually, Ronon convinced Laria to get back in bed, and Carson gave her a sedative to help her sleep and to combat the panic attack she’d had.
She wouldn’t let go of Ronon’s hand until she was completely unconscious.
***
It was a week before she was well enough to leave the infirmary. The whole time she was there Ronon stayed by her side, sleeping in a chair by her bed and taking all his meals there. It was clear to Laria that Carson was not yet ready to forgive Ronon. Even when she asked him to make up a bed for Ronon, he wouldn’t.
By the time she went home, Laria still wouldn’t let anyone but Ronon touch her. If anyone tried, she panicked, and Ronon had to calm her down. She was panicking less often when she left the infirmary, but Ronon stayed with her anyway. Carson and Ronon escorted her back to her room, and when they reached the door, Carson stepped between Laria and Ronon.
“That’s far enough. You’re not welcome in my home.”
Laria looked frightened, but Ronon simply nodded and walked away.
They walked inside, and Laria was surprised to find that her home felt foreign to her. Carson put his hand on her lower back to guide her into the bedroom, and she stiffened and moved away. The look of sadness in his eyes nearly broke her heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s all right, love. I just forgot.”
“He helped me, Carson. If it weren’t for him I would be...broken,” she finished softly, wishing she had the words to express what she meant.
“You’re not broken now?”
She just looked at him, knowing she couldn’t make him understand, and walked into the bedroom.
***
She woke in the middle of the night screaming. Carson tried to calm her down, but when he reached out to her, she screamed even louder, yelling for Ronon. Eventually, Carson gave up, found his earpiece and called Ronon on the comlink.
When Ronon arrived, he held her until her screams turned to sobs, kissed her forehead gently, and rocked her until she fell asleep.
***
Dr. Weir insisted that Laria speak to Dr. Heightmeyer. Laria protested, but Carson begged her to go.
“Please, love. I can’t stand to see you like this. Dr. Weir has requested that we both go for counseling.”
“You’ll be there with me?”
“No, love. Dr. Heightmeyer feels we should see her separately.”
Laria had never liked Dr. Heightmeyer, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why. She didn’t understand why the Earthlings (as Carson called them) needed someone to listen to them and tell them what was wrong with them.
She was feeling angry and bullied when she went to her first session, and she sat on the couch waiting for Dr. Heightmeyer to say something.
“Laria, would you like to tell me what happened on PJX-735?”
“No, Kate. I would not.”
“I’d prefer it if you’d call me Dr. Heightmeyer during our sessions.”
“And I would prefer it if you would call me Mrs. Beckett.”
“Very well, Mrs. Beckett. Is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about?”
“No.”
“I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.”
“That’s hardly my problem.”
“I can sit here and wait until you’re ready to talk to me.”
“Please do.”
Laria sat on the couch until her time was up, then stood and walked out the door without saying anything.
***
“Dr. Heightmeyer says you wouldn’t cooperate in your session this morning, love.”
“I can’t, Carson. I can’t talk to her.”
“Maybe next time you’ll feel more like talking.”
Laria turned away from him and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. “Maybe.”
***
“Why do you find it difficult to talk to me about this, Mrs. Beckett? I can assure you that everything you say here will stay in this room.”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like you.”
Dr. Heightmeyer looked slightly taken aback, but quickly regained her professional demeanor. “And why is that?”
“Because you’re patronizing.”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t know what patronizing means?”
“I just want to know what you mean by it in this context.”
“You treat us like children. You sit there with that smug smile on your face, as though you know that if we would just tell you our silly little problems you could make them all go away. But, like children, we don’t know what’s good for us, and, as the adult, you must try to make us take our medicine. But it’s not always that simple. You can’t just make our problems go away. No one can.”
***
“How was your session today, love?”
Laria looked at Carson from across the room. They had come to live across the room from each other. Carson was afraid to touch her, and she was afraid to let him.
“I can’t talk to her Carson. She can’t help me.”
“Dr. Weir thinks she can.”
“Dr. Weir can’t help me either.”
He looked at her then, the same way he’d been looking at her since she got back. His forehead was wrinkled and his eyes were so sad, it hurt her to look into them. And she knew. She knew what she would do for him.
***
“What would you like to talk about today, Mrs. Beckett?”
“Carson.”
“What about Carson?”
“He’s seeing you too, right?”
“Yes.”
“I want to do this for him. You can’t fix me, but you can fix him. You said before that you couldn’t tell anyone what I said here.”
“That’s true.”
“I want you to tell Carson. Not everything, but anything you think would help him.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I can’t do this for me, but I will do it for him.”
“Very well.”
“You promise me? You promise to tell him anything you get out of these sessions that might help him?”
“I promise.”
“Then ask me what you want. I’ll talk to you.”
“Tell me what happened on PJX-735.”
Laria looked down at her hands. “Do you want the whole story, or just the pertinent parts?”
“Just what happened in the temple.”
“I don’t remember.”
“But you know.”
“I remember Ronon. I remember him holding me. He just kept saying, ‘Just the two of us. In your cave. By the fire. Just the two of us.’ And he shielded me from them.”
“From who?”
“The crowd. Sometimes I can still hear them at night. Gasping and sighing and chanting and cheering. But Ronon drowned them out. He drowned everything out, the sights, the sounds, the smells.”
“The smells?”
“The whole place smelled like sex and incense.”
“But Ronon blocked it out.”
“I only smelled him.”
“What did he smell like?”
“Sweat, leather, blood. Safety.”
“What does Carson smell like?”
Laria looked up, her eyes were red, and tears were falling. “I can’t remember.”
***
Ronon had taken to sleeping on their couch. Laria didn’t have nightmares every night, but often enough that even Carson was glad to have Ronon right there. If she woke in the night, screaming or sweating or crying, Ronon would take her out to the living room and hold her. He would kiss her forehead and rock her back to sleep. Carson watched them the first few times, but after that it was too painful. It seemed Ronon was becoming everything Carson had once been to Laria.
***
“I’m going to try something different with you today, Mrs. Beckett.”
Dr. Heightmeyer pulled out two photographs and set them on the table in front of Laria. One was of Carson, the other of Ronon.
“What do you want me to do with them?”
“Whatever you want.”
Laria considered the pictures for a long time. She shuffled them around, putting Carson’s above Ronon’s, then to the right, then to the left.
Finally she asked, “Do you have a pen?”
Dr. Heightmeyer handed her a black ballpoint from her desk.
Laria looked at the photos for another minute and then began to draw on Carson’s. When she was done she showed them both to Dr. Heightmeyer.
“Why did you draw Ronon’s tattoo on Carson?”
“It means something.”
“What does it mean?”
“Safety.”
***
After four consecutive nights with no nightmares, Carson thought they might be getting somewhere, so he tried to give Laria a hug before bed. She shrank away from him, and he backed away with his hands in the air, a look of resignation on his face.
“I’m sorry, Carson.”
“You don’t have to apologize, love.”
“I know, but I want to. It isn’t just that I’m sorry for. I’m sorry you can’t touch me. I’m sorry Ronon can. I’m sorry that I’m not the woman you married anymore. I’m sorry that you’re sad all the time. It breaks my heart when you look at me like that. I’m sorry you have to be married to me.”
For a moment Carson looked like he was going to respond. Laria knew he wanted to. Wanted to say the thing that would make it all go away, that would bring them back to the way things used to be. But he didn’t. He couldn’t say it because he didn’t know what it was.
Instead, he walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. He held her for a few minutes; she was tense the whole time. Finally, he whispered, “I love you, Laria,” and kissed her forehead. Then he smiled at her and walked into the bedroom.
She watched him go, unable to move. When she eventually followed him, she crawled into bed and snuggled into his arms. “I love you too, Carson.”
As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about Carson’s scent. Sweat, soap, safety.
But mostly, home.
