Fic: Defense Mechanism, 6/6 (nc-17) COMPLETE!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
By the time Rodney, Teyla and Ronon arrived at the docking bay, a half a dozen stretchers were already being carried out. The marines looked injured and unconscious, but alive. John’s condition, when Rodney finally saw it, was less optimistic. He was shot twice in the chest and the blood seemed everywhere. Carson was already at his side, and Rodney got out of the way by hugging the walls as they rushed down the hallways.
“Hemothorax,” Carson declared. “Let’s get a chest tube going!”
Rodney followed the parade to the infirmary with Teyla and Ronon on his heels, then they slammed into one another like a traffic accident when a nurse stopped them short of the double doors. Rodney halted, scowling at the nurse, then lifting on the balls of his feet to see through the small oval window. He couldn’t see much, though. Carson removed the last vestiges of John’s ruined shirt, and then there was a swarm of people crowding around the table and blocking Rodney’s view.
Beside him, Teyla pressed a hand over his forearm, though neither seemed entirely conscious of the gesture. A nurse barreled out the double doors, nearly hitting Rodney but he stepped back in time to avoid it. Ronon grabbed Rodney and Teyla by the arm, and urged them to the side away from the bustle.
“There’s nothing we can do for him now,” Ronon told them. “Doc has got it covered.”
The nurse rushed back through the swinging doors, where they heard Carson yell, “Prep for surgery!”
Lorne’s voice suddenly blared over the intercom. “Daedalus, this is Lorne. All personnel to their posts! All personnel to their posts! We’ve got two Wraith Hive ships bearing down on us from space.”
“Oh, c’mon!” Rodney muttered in exasperation. “What is it with this galaxy? Like we don't have enough problems already?!”
Teyla looked to Ronon. “Did we not hear that Jumper Three had detected the possible presence of a Dart?”
They’d been planning on checking it out when they heard John had been retrieved.
Ronon and Teyla took off, and Rodney was a little slow to play catch up but eventually he was rushing to join them. He crashed into two marines on his way to the deck. When they finally arrived, Lorne was dispatching orders to pull the jumpers back.
“What?” Rodney exclaimed. “Wait! What about Elizabeth?”
“I’ve got strict orders,” Lorne replied. “This is a search and rescue mission only. We can’t engage two Hive ships in battle. Caldwell would be seriously pissed if I get his ship and all his people blown up on my first run out.”
“What about Dr. Weir?” Ronon continued. “She’s still-”
“I know,” Lorne cut in, but he looked disgusted as he gave further protests. “I’m sorry, but my orders are clear-”
“We can’t just leave Elizabeth out there!”
The indecision was written clearly across Lorne’s face, and Rodney knew they could get to him. They just needed to impress upon him that-the argument was cut short as the first Hive ship picked that moment to emerge. It sent out a shot across the bow as soon as it dropped out of Hyperspace.
Lorne ordered return fire, and the next few moments, Rodney was bracing himself against the wall while the ship rocked sideways. His eyes darted to Lorne, but the Major’s attention remained focused on a view beyond the exterior glass shield. The Hive ship increased its speed and ascent, diving toward the Daedalus. Rodney jumped into the chaos to give damage assessments after a second direct hit, and sparks of electricity flew out at Rodney from the console. He saw the smoke in the corner of his eye and gripped the controls even harder, praying against the impact of the next missile.
Over the chaos, he traded a look with Ronon and Teyla. Elizabeth was out there, mutating, on her own in a hostile environment with two hive ships bearing down on the planet.
“Sheppard would never forgive us if we left her like this,” Ronon shouted over the noise.
Rodney snorted in disgust. “I’d never forgive us!”
“We can’t stay here and fight for much longer!” Lorne declared, when the second Hive ship dropped out of space. “Sergeant,” he called to a technician. “Is the Daedalus ready to jump?”
“Yes, sir!”
Teyla protested. “No, wait-”
“Do it!” Lorne ordered, grimly.
The ship jumped before Rodney could get in a word.
Elizabeth looked up at the dance of pretty lights in the night sky. As the Daedalus streaked blue as it jumped into hyperspace, she knew the battle was over. That faint undercurrent of a psychic bond with John snapped as if cut, and Elizabeth flinched. The presence of the two Hive ships was disconcerting, but Elizabeth barely noticed it. She was too overwhelmed by a primal grief. Her eyes darkened, returning to the dirt pathway before her.
She had her mission. Find the nest. Find the eggs.
Remember me, he had pleaded.
She would soon fail in that.
Seventy-two hours later, Carson collapsed onto one of the visitor’s chair in Elizabeth’s office, and felt like he might never move again. John’s surgery had been successful, and the stem cell treatment had resumed course once again. Still, the euphoria of accomplishment was dulled by the conversation he was about to have with Caldwell. It further dampened his spirits when he saw Rodney and Ronon turning the corner, in the midst of hounding Caldwell for what he suspected was the same issue.
“I have my direct orders from the IOA!” Caldwell protested, sounding strung out and agitated. “Every time we’ve sent any men out to the planet, the Wraith have always been there. Including the incident last year where Colonel Sheppard was bitten by the Iratus bug. Clearly, P3S-X63 is a Wraith stronghold. We can’t afford to-”
“Y’know,” Rodney scowled, snapping. “Ever since you’ve been in this position of power, all I’ve heard from you is what you can’t do. You can’t allow Elizabeth and John out of the brig. You can’t give them the benefit of the doubt. You can’t not try to kill them. And now this? Is there anything you can do? Or should we just start calling you Colonel No like an evil bald villain from one of those Bond movies?”
Caldwell threw Rodney a malevolent glare, and Rodney held firm for about a second before he deflated.
“Okay,” Rodney continued, laughing nervously. “Here’s a reason why everything I just said may have been stupid. You’re my boss. My new boss. And I respect that, and you, but what you’ve got to understand is that-”
“We don’t leave a man behind,” Ronon finished, gruffly. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing in front of Caldwell like an immovable pillar. “We need to go back for Dr. Weir.”
Caldwell shook his head. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But my hands are tied. I just got word from Earth. They’ve officially ordered me to declare Dr. Weir’s status as MIA.”
"She's not missing! We know where she is!"
Carson rose, finally intervening by making his presence known. “Gentlemen,” he said. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
Caldwell seemed relieved for an out. He strode passed Rodney and Ronon, circling around the glass desk to stand behind it. “What’s the good news?”
“Colonel Sheppard is recovering nicely - well, as nicely as he can when he spends half his awake time growling and calling-”… and calling for Elizabeth in delirium. Carson cleared his throat. “Ironically enough, his mutation helped him heal from the gun shot faster. It saved his life. I’ve only just resumed his stem cell treatment. He should gain full recovery on time, within 10 days.”
“He’ll be human again?” Ronon asked. “Fully human?”
“100% flyboy,” Carson confirmed.
Caldwell sighed in relief. “And the bad news?” Carson paused, glancing to Rodney and Ronon briefly. This news was painful enough to deliver, but now doubly so with their presence. After a moment of indecision, Caldwell prodded Carson, though not unkindly. “Doctor, what is it?”
Carson pressed his lips into a thin line. “By my estimations, if Elizabeth’s mutation continued to progress at the aggressive rate it had been, then she has likely already reached a point where none of my synthetic cures would help her - even in theory. I need those bloody stem cells for a cure! Without that, even if we managed to find her, I wouldn’t be able to help her.”
Rodney paled, searching for words for a second. “You could still discover something else-”
“Aye, Rodney. While I appreciate your confidence, I don’t share it. I’ve been struggling to make heads or tails of this mutation for weeks now, and we’ve gotten no closer to an alternative cure.”
“Maybe with a few more weeks of experimen-”
“I’d need years, Rodney! This isn’t a simple matter. Do you know how many barriers we’ve had to jump through? Do you know how many more obstacles stand in the way? You’re asking my team to do the impossible, and it’s just not going to happen. Not this time. Not with what we have.”
Carson paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. There would be no miraculous cure at the eleventh hour, not this time. His throat got a little rough, and Carson cleared it forcefully, feeling like an utter failure. He’d done the impossible time and time again, but this time… it was too much to ask.
Everyone was quiet for a long beat. The only ones that could get to those bloody Iratus bug nests were John and Elizabeth, and Carson wasn’t stupid enough to risk John again. Not after everything. Which only left Elizabeth as an option, but they couldn’t retrieve her. They couldn’t help her.
They all stood there in Elizabeth’s office, and Carson felt the keen absence of her presence like a missing limb.
Her mind had changed now, as well as her body. It had never occurred to her that when she would finally succeed in finding a nest and retrieving an egg, she would no longer remember what to do afterwards.
She simply searched, becoming nothing more than a hunter after its prey.
The woman named Elizabeth Weir had faded away.
10 Days Later
John set his foot down and quickly laced up his boot, then paused, staring at his hand. He flexed his fingers a little - his completely normal, human hands - and wondered if he’d ever take them for granted again. After weeks of treatment and more close calls then he wanted to think about, he was human again. The guards had left, the treatments were over, and John was free and clear to leave the infirmary and the brig to return to his private quarters again.
Not that he had any intention of doing that, of course.
Ten days, he’d been cooped up and going insane. He’d been anxious and frustrated by repeatedly being stalled on the prospect of rescuing Elizabeth. Jesus, she was out there on her own on a Wraith-infested planet. It scared the shit out of him just thinking about it, and he'd done little else for ten days. He didn’t care what the IOA ordered. He knew where she was, and he was going after her.
Now he just needed to make sure no one else knew about his plans.
John slid on his jacket as Teyla entered the infirmary. He gathered his bag and slung it over his shoulder, and Teyla offered a timid smile as she stepped up to his bedside.
“Are you sure you should you be up and about so soon?”
John rolled his eyes. “Well, I've been cooped up in this damned Infirmary for a couple of weeks. Give me a break.”
Teyla forced another smile. “You are looking well. Are you feeling more like yourself?”
“Well, according to my D.N.A., I'm a hundred percent John Sheppard again... although, I gotta say, I'm looking forward to getting rid of this thing one day.”
He glanced down to his right arm where he’d been clawed by Ellia. It was still a pale blue color, and the skin looked tough, but Carson assured him that it would clear up eventually. It was the only mark left on him after everything, nothing more than residue.
Silence descended, and he had a lot on his mind but he glanced to Teyla for a moment, feeling awkward. “Ah, so listen. While I've been laying here the past week, I've been remembering things. Some things I might have done that you could call… out of character.”
“You mean when you attacked the security detail - twice?”
John flinched, ‘cause yeah, there was that. But they both knew he was talking about the kiss he’d forced on her during that sparring session. He appreciated Teyla trying to make light of the discussion, but just thinking about the incident made John’s skin itch in awkwardness.
“Yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat, “that was one of them. But there's another thing I should probably apologize for.
Teyla regarded him with heavy consideration for a moment, before she eased it with a soft smile. “Give it no further thought, John. You were not yourself.” She paused, delicately, and her voice turned painful. “Neither was Elizabeth.”
Thick, heavy silence descended.
John hefted his shoulder bag higher, then gave Teyla a stiff nod. “I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you headed?”
He paused. “Just gotta take care of something.”
When he started striding towards the exit, Teyla called out for him to stop. After a beat, she approached him in three quick strides, and lowered her voice. “I know what you are about to do. Let us help you-”
“No,” John returned forcefully, and his tone brokered no argument. “I do this alone. I’ve endangered enough lives as it is. I’m taking responsibility now. No one else but me.”
He knew the odds. He knew about the Wraith stronghold and how Elizabeth’s mutation was probably complete now. He didn’t care. He couldn’t leave her there on that alien planet, and he knew his team was right there with him. But the IOA had turned stubborn and immovable about this subject, and while his teammates may have been willing to risk everything, he wasn’t willing to let them try.
No more collateral damage. Not on this one. He'd done enough of that.
Teyla’s lips sealed into a thin line, staring at him. “There is nothing I can say that will change your mind?”
“I’ve got this,” he said. “And trust me, this is something I can handle better on my own.”
He left the infirmary behind. By the time John gathered the last of his supplies, visited an isolated ammunitions locker on the far west wing, then approached the jumper bay, he was ahead of schedule by five minutes. The guard rotation would happen at the end of the hour, and then the shift change in the Gateroom would occur ten minutes after that. He just needed to bide his time and lay low for a while. He’d been planning this to perfection for over a week now, and there was almost nothing he hadn’t anticipated - even going so far as to fabricate several reasons for him being armed and in this part of the city so soon after release from the infirmary.
However, there was one thing he hadn’t anticipated.
“What?” Caldwell said to him, standing next to Carson near the foot of an open jumper. “You’re finally released from detention, and you expect anyone to believe your first instinct wouldn’t be to return to P3S-X63 to get Dr. Weir back?”
“We’ve been waiting here for half an hour,” Carson announced. “You’re a fairly predictable man.”
John paused. His first thought was that they were there to stop them, but then his gaze dropped down to the medical kit in Carson’s hands and the distinct lack of armed guards around the jumper.
“What’s going on, sir?”
“Officially,” Caldwell articulated, “I’m supposed to detain you. I can’t allow anyone to go AWOL trying to retrieve what the IOA has declared a lost cause.”
John glanced from Caldwell to Carson, then back to Caldwell again. “Unofficially?”
“Screw the IOA,” Caldwell declared. “I can't risk much, but we’ve secured a jumper for you with enough supplies to last you two a few days-”
“Two?” John repeated, and Carson’s offworld attire suddenly made sense. “Oh, no. No way. I’m not taking-”
Carson rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Colonel, but unless you took a learning annex course these last few weeks while I wasn’t looking, you aren’t a board certified medical practitioner. I am. You’re going to need my help with Elizabeth.”
John opened his mouth, but Caldwell overrode him. “Consider it an order.”
“Order?”
“Unofficially,” Caldwell returned with a smile. “I’ll get you that Gateroom clearance. Better hurry.” He turned and began striding for the exit. “Oh, and Sheppard?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t screw this one up.”
The jumper soared over the treetops of P3S-X63, cloaked and silent, while not less than a hundred miles above them, two Hive Ships hovered over the planet’s atmosphere.
“Where do we start?” Carson asked. “This is a big planet.”
“The last time I was here with Elizabeth, I took a jumper. I’m hoping she’s not far from it.”
“How do we find the jumper?”
“I remembered where I parked it.”
Carson paused. “Right. Elizabeth doesn’t have the gene. But what makes you think she’s still using it or around it?”
John didn’t give an answer because he didn’t have one. He pulled up the topographic maps of the land below, studying it for the familiar outcropping of trees where he’d stashed the last jumper. The map scrolled across the land on the wall screen in front of him, then narrowed in to a small one-mile square piece of forest.
“It’s there,” John announced. He picked the destination, then glided the jumper smoothly over the swaying trees. “You’ll stay in the jumper while I go have a look around-”
“But I-”
“No arguments, Carson. Elizabeth could be dangerous, and she isn’t the only thing out here that is.”
There was a brief pause. “Do you think you can handle her?”
John licked his lips, trying to quell the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. When his mutation had been at its worst, John remembered having trouble keeping focus, remembering whom his friends were. Elizabeth’s mutation by now had past that stage. He tried to mentally prepare himself for what he might face - an Elizabeth that was ruled entirely by the retrovirus. There was no telling what her reaction to him would be. He hoped she’d remember him, but only time would tell.
“John?” Carson prodded, then sighed, letting the matter drop. "Just be careful."
They arrived at the outcropping of trees, and John lowered the jumper onto a nearby field of grass. “Just stay in the jumper and be alert. Keep an eye out. You hail me on the radio if anything happens.”
Carson laughed, nervously. “You mean like the Hive Ships bearing down on me?”
John patted Carson on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m sure the bigger concerns here are the wild animals outside the jumper door.”
“Wild animals?” Carson squeaked. “What type of wild animals?”
John tried not to grin. “Well, let’s just say, if I were you, I wouldn’t leave to take a leak or anything.”
“Duly noted.”
John hefted a P-90 across his chest and slipped a small stunner into his backpack, then slipped out the back door. Outside, it was pitch black and dead silent. He surveyed the area, then picked a direction and set about hunting down Elizabeth’s jumper.
Fifteen minutes later, he found the jumper right where he left it. He lowered the backdoor and entered in, stumbling slightly at the foot when he discovered dirt, rocks and leaves had found their way into the jumper. The benches were also lined with the cleaned skins of animals, and there was something hanging from the top that John soon figured out must have been remainders of last night’s meal.
Elizabeth had turned the jumper into her nest.
It lacked her normal feminine touch, to say the least.
He spent another minute examining the jumper for clues when he stumbled across something in the front cockpit section. Three Iratus bug eggs were nestled against the wall; she’d found the nests! Tampering down on the excitement, he immediately examined the eggs to find them intact, then radio hailed Carson and informed him of the development.
“Bloody hell,” Carson breathed in tangible relief that John could hear, even over the radio. “Elizabeth just saved herself. We might be able to do something with that.”
He exhaled, then set the eggs down again. “I’m going to go look for Elizabeth.”
“Good luck, Colonel.”
Deciding that she probably wasn’t far, he stepped back out of the jumper. The trees swayed from a soft eastern wind, and there wasn’t a sound except for some faint crunching of leaves beneath his feet. He glanced skyward where the dim outline of the two Hive ships could be seen. Creepy, John decided, but he tried to keep focus on the surroundings around him.
A sudden collapse of a heavy tree branch behind him sent John falling forward. Then something hit him - he never saw what - and before John could formulate a thought, abrupt blackness claimed him.
John came to with his head throbbing and a stiff pain in his shoulders. He groaned, tasting dirt in his mouth, then shook loose his disorientation to make out his surroundings. He was in a large cave of some type - it was as big, dark, and disconcerting as a cave should have been, and he peered into the darkness.
The sight of two dead Wraith bodies littered on the floor in the corner greeted him.
Something landed behind him. Marshalling his strength, John struggled to his feet and turned around. The sight of Elizabeth staring down at him stole his breath. Without a scratch of clothing on, Elizabeth stood in the dim light, completely nude. Dark bluish skin covered every inch of her, from the slim belly to her wide hips and bare chest. Though he’d seen her only ten days back, his memory of many of the events were distorted and vague. Some memories, however, were only all too vivid.
He distinctly remembered the savage hunger that had taken him over, mating with her repeatedly like some lust-driven animal.
... That had actually been kinda enjoyable.
But he couldn’t think like that now. He forced his eyes to meet hers, studying her face. For a moment, John could do nothing other than stare. There was a familiarity in her features, especially around the eyes, cheekbone and the shape of her face, but mostly she was… alien. She drew one step closer. Strands of her tousled hair crept over her eyes, and she tilted her head, examining him. Though he knew it was risky, he cautiously raised a hand and reached for her, hoping to soothe her by contact.
She struck out a hand and sent him reeling back to the ground.
He landed hard on his left side, twisting his ankle in the fall. Groaning, John raised his head. “Okay, no touching. Check. We’ll just talk, then.”
She strode towards him, then stopped, eyeing him from a few feet away. She sniffed the air, then hunched her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. John could sense her curiosity hidden underneath a layer of barely-contained hostility. He didn’t see any stark recognition, though.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed, getting to his feet again. She hissed angrily, and he recoiled, raising his hands. “Okay, okay. We’re cool. We’ll all good.”
She didn’t recognize him.
He was positive of that now, and fear and grief kicked him in the stomach but he forced it back, needing to stay calm. She’d spent the last ten days here by herself, and if the presence of the two dead Wraith bodies in the corner was any indication, she’d been through a lot. She had reason to treat everything unknown as hostile. So, when she stalked around him, it took every inch of willpower not to react to the subtle threat of her circling around him like a shark would its prey. She drew closer at his back, sniffing again, and he wondered if he smelled familiar.
“It’s me, John. You remember me, right? Lovable flyboy. Second in command. Phenomenal in the sack? Remember that one time I sucked a cherry out of your bellybutton and we used whip cream to-”
She hissed.
He stopped, trying for a reassuring smile - though it probably came out a grimace. “I maybe exaggerated the whole “phenomenal” thing. Maybe." He continued awkwardly, stumbling over the words. "Still, I’m, um… your, ah, mate. You remem-”
She shoved him down, and John winced, feeling the impact hard on his left knee as his legs caved under him. The next second, she was looming over him and John realized she had him on his knees, a clear sign of supplication. He was level with her waist, and without a stitch of clothing on, he stared at the nexus of her hips.
He coughed, turning his head away. He was fairly sure his ears were turning red. Breathing unevenly, he realized this was definitely one of those times where he really couldn’t think with his dick first. John found that his normal flippant disposition was failing him just when he needed it the most. He struggled for something to say, something to do, but she was acting aggressive and wanton, and his natural instinct in this situation was to either go R-rated, or make sarcastic remarks.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Whatever you do, just please don’t bite me. I’m pretty sure Carson would kill me if you infected me once more and we went through this whole process again.”
Elizabeth stared at him, unflinching and clearly not getting the humor.
The tension between them shivered, waiting.
He grew somber. They had come full circle. Just a month prior, it had been the exact opposite of this. Elizabeth had been standing before his mutating self, and she’d never wavered, never backed down, never given up on reaching through to him. She’d been his constant touchstone to reality and his true self. He needed to do that same thing for her now.
“Elizabeth, you've been infected by the retrovirus, but I know you’re in there. I know you’re still there. You have to fight. You have to take back control.” He paused, and his throat constricted a little. “C’mon, there has to be a part of you that recognizes me."
She stared at him, unblinking.
"I'm your mate," he said bluntly, without any of the hesitation this time. "I'm the one person you can count on, without fail. Recognize me. Remember me, damn it! I know you can. You're in there, Elizabeth. Remember me."
There was a slight pressure on his temple, an unpleasant sensation of something beginning to force its way into his mind. It quickly took John over. He groaned, face scrunched up in pain as a wave of something assaulted him. It took a second to realize that it was Elizabeth reaching out psychically. It wasn’t at all like before, when they’d shared the bond. His body no longer reacted the same way. Instead, it was like that time that Wraith Queen had invaded John’s mind, the intrusion violent and unwelcomed and giving him one hell of a headache.
He had no idea what she was after, rolling around in his head. But after a moment, memories were forced to the surface: Elizabeth, that first day on Atlantis. Elizabeth, on the balcony. When she hugged him, when he kissed her. The first time they made love.
Suddenly, he was reliving memories and showing Elizabeth things they’d shared in the last two years of his life.
"It’s better for the both of us."
"Don’t try to deny this, Elizabeth."
"It was good while it lasted, huh?"
"I have to, and you know it."
"You’re home."
"You’ve got to trust me."
"I’d like to say something while I still can."
"It’s good to hear your voice."
'Mate.'
She forced images and details to the surface, and it went on and on, a never-ending stream of past sensations and feelings and words spoken that blended together in a moment that lasted a lifetime. Or at least, it felt that way to John.
'Remember me.'
Elizabeth suddenly gasped and released him, and John fell to the floor, groaning, head pounding like someone had taken a jackhammer to it.
‘John?’ she asked, recognition in the word.
Epilogue
Three Weeks Later
Over the last two months, there had been plenty of times when Caldwell had sorely missed the safe dependability that had encapsulated his command of the Daedalus. There, he was in his element. There was little that had felt out of control or beyond his capabilities, but wielding that same authority on Atlantis had turned out to be something else entirely.
His estimations of Elizabeth’s performance went higher and higher the more he stood in her shoes. It wasn’t easy for him to command a group of people that only thinly hid their preference for another commander. He respected their loyalty to Elizabeth and even Sheppard, but it had made things maddening and tens times more frustrating than it needed to be. He hated being seen as an outsider, especially when all he was trying to do was help keep the flooding to a minimum.
So, it was ironic that it took Richard Woosley of all people to make Caldwell’s life easier.
“What I’m trying to understand, Colonel,” Woosley said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “is that despite clear and direct orders from superiors, why you decided to let Colonel Sheppard go back to P3S-X63 anyway?”
“I made a decision based on the needs of Atlantis,” Caldwell said, stiffly. “Morale had been suffering greatly because people here thought they had essentially abandoned their leader to a hostile world. Considering Atlantis is principally a lone Earth colony in a foreign galaxy... well, morale and solidarity are important, don’t you think?”
Woosley sighed. “I agree, but you still disobeyed orders.”
“And a woman’s life was saved,” Caldwell returned. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Here comes Dr. Beckett.”
He waved Beckett over, then waited politely with Woosley until the doctor joined them. “Yes, Colonel?”
“I was hoping you could give us an update on Dr. Weir’s status.”
He smiled broadly, looking rested and relieved. “A full and effective recovery. The Iratus Bug stem cells were invaluable. I have to say, I was a little worried we might have been too late in beginning the treatment, but after a few short hiccups, Dr. Weir responded to the treatment just as hoped. She’s being released from the infirmary this afternoon.”
Woosley cleared his throat, a tad sheepishly. “Yes, well, I can speak for everyone back on Earth, especially the IOA, in saying that we’re all relieved to hear that.”
Caldwell traded a subtle look with Beckett. Those were lofty words coming from an organization that had essentially abandoned her to her own devices. Caldwell had always been smart and quick with politics, but he was a soldier first and foremost. He understood the necessities of cutting loose lost causes, but the way the IOA had handled this entire mess was… well, the marines on base had been calling it a clusterfuck. Caldwell tended to agree.
After a beat, Woosley continued awkwardly. “Thank you for the update, Doctor, but I actually have some further information that I need to discuss with the Colonel in private. If you could excuse us for a second?”
“Of course,” Beckett said, then turned to Caldwell. “Colonel.”
“Doctor,” Caldwell returned, amiably.
Beckett left, and internally Caldwell mused over the fact that one month prior, this same doctor had been the proverbial thorn at his side. Now, they were exchanging pleasant farewells. Caldwell marveled at the change in behavior - not just from Beckett, but from everyone in the City. Once Woosley had been appointed to investigate the incidents, suddenly Caldwell had found himself embraced by Atlantis personnel as one of their own. He knew a lot of the change had to do with his hand in Elizabeth’s rescue three weeks prior, and he had to admit, it was nice.
Woosley followed Caldwell into the clear glass office, then perched on the corner of the desk. “What else can I help you with, Mr. Woosley?”
“There’s also another matter we need to discuss,” he paused, delicately, “regarding the nature of the relationship between Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard. There seems to be some concern that… certain lines of propriety may have been crossed during these last few weeks.”
“Lines of propriety?”
“The reports seem to suggest that…” Woosley went a little red in the face, “there may have been, uh, what could be referred to as, um, coupling.”
It took all Caldwell's effort not to laugh in Woosley’s face. The man seemed inordinately flustered, not that Caldwell could really blame him. He'd had more than his fair share of encounters side-stepping and hand-waving the nature of Sheppard and Weir’s relationship - and that had been long before any retrovirus had entered the picture. Still, unlike Woosley, Caldwell did his best to respect certain boundaries.
What he didn't know for sure, without irrefutable evidence, he couldn't comment on. Plausible deniability. It was a thing of beauty sometimes.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Caldwell replied smoothly. “Who’s been giving you these reports?”
“Rumors, Colonel.”
“I’d be careful to trust those. This is a big city, but it’s a lot like a small town in many ways. Rumors spread like wildfire.”
“Still, it’s something to be concerned about, don’t you think? Regulations being what they are on fraternization-”
Caldwell interceded, “Y’know, it’s been a while since I’ve brushed up on my military regulations, but I’m almost a 100% positive that it doesn’t apply to civilian leaders such as Dr. Weir.”
Woosley pressed his lips into a thin line. “Semantics, Colonel. Surely you could see the inherent problems of fraternization between Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir. We can’t turn a blind eye to an office affair like that.”
“I wasn’t aware there were accusations of that,” Caldwell returned. “I thought we were talking about the last few weeks and… coupling?”
Woosley turned flustered again. “Yes, well, I’ve been given authority for a full fledged investigation here. We can’t have illicit activity going on that could compromise the chain of command. Anymore than what’s already been demonstrated, that is.”
That had been a dig at Caldwell. He narrowed his eyes, realizing this was a witch-hunt. Maybe the last six weeks here had brainwashed him, but it didn’t sit right, the way the IOA was going after them. When Caldwell had first come to Atlantis months back, he’d gotten more than a cold reception from some, especially Elizabeth. He’d chalked it up to paranoia, but the more time he spent in Atlantis, the more he got it.
With friends like these, who needed enemies?
Carson waited until Woosley left the office, then approached Caldwell and knocked on his door. The Colonel waved him in, and Carson closed the door after him to offer them some measure of privacy.
“How bad is it?”
Caldwell looked up. “Off the record? Bad. I think they’re thinking about removing Dr. Weir, or stringing up Sheppard with a court martial for conduct unbecoming. Mainly because of their… relationship with each other. I don’t think they’re too thrilled with me, either.”
Carson’s jaw set into a hard line. “What did he ask you?”
Bluntly, Caldwell answered, “He wanted to know if I thought they were sleeping together.” Carson sputtered, and Caldwell raised a hand. “Relax, Doctor. I told him that I’ve never noticed anything unusual about their relationship, and it’s always seemed a healthy and professional one.”
The look on Caldwell’s face belied his true feelings on the subject, though.
Carson cleared his throat. “Yes, well, thank you for your discretion, Colonel. I must say, you turned out to be a man of honor.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Caldwell returned. “And, for the record, you were… well, actually, you were a bit of a pain in the ass.” Carson laughed, and Caldwell smirked back at him. “But Sheppard and Weir were lucky to have you in their corner.”
“Aye, and you, too. Your voucher on the nature of their relationship will mean a lot to the IOA, surely.”
“Don’t be too relieved. I’m just one man in a city full of people.”
The point was obvious. There had always been rumors in Atlantis centered about Elizabeth and John, since the very beginning of their expedition. It was natural, of course. Such were the hardships of being in the spotlight, and besides, the close friendship between the two had made such rumors easy to believe. But true or false, rumors had always been just that - rumors. Speculation. Idle curiosity.
The events of the last few weeks, however, would make even a disbelieving man raise an eyebrow.
Someone would talk, and maybe that would be enough for Woosley to condemn.
“This is going to ruin them, isn’t it?”
Caldwell’s expression was solemn. “If they don’t handle it very, very carefully… yes.”
A quarter mile away from the control center, Elizabeth gathered up the last of her belongings and left the infirmary behind. In the hallway several scientists greeted her with a cheerful hello, and Elizabeth returned it with a warm smile. Inside she was still adjusting to what everyone else considered normalcy, but the image she presented to the outside world was determinedly composed and, hopefully, easygoing.
For such a harrying few weeks of mutations, the recovery period afterwards had been relatively anti-climatic. Elizabeth appreciated that, as she’d had just about enough excitement to last a lifetime. She was eager to get back to work, back to the normal routine of mundane day-to-day life in Atlantis - not that such a thing existed, of course. But it was a thought that had comforted her over the past fortnight.
It felt good to be out and about, but there was a small, hidden part of her that feared all of this was just an illusion, something temporary that would be taken away from her again. She’d spent too many nights these last few weeks, worrying over everything. There were so many things left up in the air. Woosley’s little visit was just one of the many headaches Elizabeth knew she’d have to face and confront, but at least there, she was in a familiar shark-infested waters.
Other concerns were more foreboding. One, in particular, named John Sheppard.
She returned to her quarters to find everything neatly in its place, awaiting her return as if not more than a day had passed since she'd last stepped foot in here. She dropped her overnight bag on the floor when the door slid shut behind her. Instead of immediately settling in, she crossed the wide-open space and approached the bayside window, where she stood for several long moments, staring out at the breathtaking view. The sun streamed in through her open drapes, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself and stared. A small bit of peace washed over her, interrupted only a moment later when there was a knock at her door.
When she answered it, John was at the threshold. “Can I come in?”
She stared for a beat, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.
Despite three weeks of confinement to the infirmary, she could count on one hand the number of conversations she’d had with him. Recovering, Elizabeth nodded and stepped back, allowing John to enter. In the lull of her treatments, they’d both felt the full repercussions of all the various events that had transpired between them. Elizabeth knew he was worried about her, about them and was probably lost on what to do about either. After all, before she’d been infected, she’d arrived at his doorstep with the full intentions of breaking up with him.
“How’re you feeling?”
She tried for a smile. “Would you believe me if I said I feel tired? Three weeks of forced bed-rest, and I’m still tired.”
“Get active again. You’ll feel better.”
“Trust me, I know. I just want things to go back to normal again.”
Her eyes drifted briefly to his before she snapped them away again. Caught up in the thought of what normal meant for either of them, Elizabeth turned and waved him further into the room. Averting her gaze, she bent to pick up her overnight bag and brought it over to her small table.
“I just spoke with Caldwell,” John said, to fill the silence. “He seems to think Woosley has it in for us.”
Elizabeth froze, then after a beat, resumed unpacking her belongings. “I’m not sure about that. Something tells me his bark is worse than his bite.”
“Yeah?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Woosley knows about us,” John said eventually. “I mean, he doesn’t know, know, but he’s heard things.”
“Things?”
“Rumors,” John said softly, and Elizabeth flinched.
Taking in a deep breath to counter the sick fear churning in her gut, she retrieved a book from her bag and rested it on the table. It was an old copy of “Pride and Prejudice,” something that had been circulating through Atlantis like many of the other communal items. John stepped up beside her and thumbed through the pages for a second, eventually flipping to the back cover where Kate Heightmeyer’s name was scrawled in elegant cursive. Books, movies, music - they were all horded together and then shared.
“You spoken to Heightmeyer lately?”
“No,” she returned. “You?”
She didn’t need an answer because she already knew, but John offered a single-shouldered shrug, as if to say it didn’t matter one way or another. A part of her wondered if therapy wasn’t just the thing they needed, though, to recover from this mess. Still, knowing that and acting upon on it were two very different things. Besides, it was practically infeasible for her to go into couple’s therapy with her military commander. Talk about fodder for the rumor mill.
That also assumed they were still a couple. Elizabeth wasn’t sure about that either.
She released a heavy breath and crossed the room to sit down at the edge of her canopy bed. The sudden weight of everything felt a little too much, and she couldn’t meet John’s eyes or risk falling apart into a sobbing mess. God, why was everything so complicated? If it wasn’t the IOA, it was Caldwell. If it wasn’t outside forces, it was internal ones driving them apart. It if wasn’t her, then it was him.
“Is it supposed to be this hard?” Elizabeth asked, and though it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, for once, she wanted a damn answer. “I don’t remember it being this hard before.”
Simon had been a lot of things, but hard to manage had never been one of them.
John sat down next to her, his thigh brushing against hers and Elizabeth suddenly wanted more contact with him. At the same time, she also wanted to flee. Eventually, his fingers found hers, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance until she found the courage to look up at him.
“We live in a galaxy where our enemies think we’re happy meals on legs," he said. "Complicated comes with the territory.”
She hated that answer, even if it did make sense.
“What do we do now?”
He paused. “I was kinda hoping you could tell me. What do you want, Elizabeth?”
Her first, instinctive reaction was to tell John - him. She wanted him. Complications and all, her heart and head were still too tangled up in him to abandon the idea of them altogether. But then a second later, she wasn’t as sure anymore.
She sat there, warring against two instincts. It was almost a struggle just not to stare openly, drinking in the sight of him safe and human, and follow up on it with the tactile confirmation of the same. But then again, she had a mental list tallied up of every single reason why breaking it off with him made sense. Those arguments still held water.
“I broke up with you for a reason,” she said, then laughed softly, because she wasn’t entirely sure a break up that ended in a make-out session actually counted. Still. “This is too messy. We can’t afford our focus to be split like this-”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?”
There was a long beat of silence after that, and Elizabeth couldn’t force herself to maintain eye contact. He was right about that, of course. Emotions were tangled up, perhaps irrevocably, but that didn’t mean they had to make things worse.
"What do you want, Elizabeth?” he repeated. “Because that’s what it comes down to. I know what I want, and it’s you.”
Those were bold words coming from a man that normally had trouble expressing his emotions, and Elizabeth snapped her eyes up despite herself. He looked determined and calm, like he knew what he was doing now and felt 100% conviction in it. She silently marveled at that, even a tad bit jealous. The last time they’d danced this dance, he’d been intent on making the break-up easy on her. It seemed after these last few weeks, he’d changed his mind on that tactic.
She pulled her hand free and stood. “It’s not that simple. You said it yourself, the IOA-”
He shook his head and glanced away, a hint of anger blooming in his eyes. “If you think I’m letting you go because of the IOA, after what I just went through getting you back," he trailed off and groaned, eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to marshal his words together, “then you’ve got another thing coming, Elizabeth. I’m not backing down for them.” He opened his eyes to stare at her, pleading. “What do you want, Elizabeth?”
She lost herself a little in the hazel of his eyes. No one had ever been able to hold her gaze like John Sheppard. She swore she could get lost in them for minutes without the urge to look away ever creeping up.
“You,” she admitted, almost despite herself. “I want you, Joh-”
He was up and kissing her before she could finish. His grip on her was tight, body pressed against hers, and she could feel hard muscles that she wanted desperately to map and relearn. There was little controlling these instincts, she realized. It was like trying to fight a tidal wave, and Elizabeth felt exhausted at the mere thought of doing that. She melted into the embrace, and John coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside until she was moaning.
She remembered exactly what it felt like to make love to him as both a man and the alien creature he’d turned into, but she much preferred the former to the latter. He was real, human and whole - everything she’d ever wanted with a few traits thrown in that she never realized she needed.
When they pulled back, there were tears gathering in her eyes. His arms wrapped around her, and like the lovers they were, he adjusted his body to cradle hers. She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent. Elizabeth felt his heart thudding against hers and tears threatened, but didn’t fall.
She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t.
“Shh,” he soothed, running his hands up and down her back. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
“John,” she protested, pulling back, “it isn’t that simple.”
“Elizabeth, we just fought through our own personal hell to save each other.” He smirked a little. “You didn’t even forget about me when your damn DNA was telling you to. Can’t you have a little faith that we can beat the odds on this, then?”
Well, when he put it like that…
John captured her lips in another kiss, edging her back towards the bed with his body. His fingers threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her head, and then she was falling onto the mattress with him on top of her. She pressed hands against his chest, feeling warm muscles and the rapid beating of his heart, and then he was nuzzling the side of her face, pressing a series of kisses to her all-too sensitive neck. She shivered when he breathed her name against her skin.
Elizabeth clutched at him desperately, feeling the weight of his body pressing hers down, and there was something about this moment that solidified it for her.
Let the IOA try their usual tricks.
She wouldn’t lose John without one hellava fight.
Fin! \O/ Feedback appreciated.
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
By the time Rodney, Teyla and Ronon arrived at the docking bay, a half a dozen stretchers were already being carried out. The marines looked injured and unconscious, but alive. John’s condition, when Rodney finally saw it, was less optimistic. He was shot twice in the chest and the blood seemed everywhere. Carson was already at his side, and Rodney got out of the way by hugging the walls as they rushed down the hallways.
“Hemothorax,” Carson declared. “Let’s get a chest tube going!”
Rodney followed the parade to the infirmary with Teyla and Ronon on his heels, then they slammed into one another like a traffic accident when a nurse stopped them short of the double doors. Rodney halted, scowling at the nurse, then lifting on the balls of his feet to see through the small oval window. He couldn’t see much, though. Carson removed the last vestiges of John’s ruined shirt, and then there was a swarm of people crowding around the table and blocking Rodney’s view.
Beside him, Teyla pressed a hand over his forearm, though neither seemed entirely conscious of the gesture. A nurse barreled out the double doors, nearly hitting Rodney but he stepped back in time to avoid it. Ronon grabbed Rodney and Teyla by the arm, and urged them to the side away from the bustle.
“There’s nothing we can do for him now,” Ronon told them. “Doc has got it covered.”
The nurse rushed back through the swinging doors, where they heard Carson yell, “Prep for surgery!”
Lorne’s voice suddenly blared over the intercom. “Daedalus, this is Lorne. All personnel to their posts! All personnel to their posts! We’ve got two Wraith Hive ships bearing down on us from space.”
“Oh, c’mon!” Rodney muttered in exasperation. “What is it with this galaxy? Like we don't have enough problems already?!”
Teyla looked to Ronon. “Did we not hear that Jumper Three had detected the possible presence of a Dart?”
They’d been planning on checking it out when they heard John had been retrieved.
Ronon and Teyla took off, and Rodney was a little slow to play catch up but eventually he was rushing to join them. He crashed into two marines on his way to the deck. When they finally arrived, Lorne was dispatching orders to pull the jumpers back.
“What?” Rodney exclaimed. “Wait! What about Elizabeth?”
“I’ve got strict orders,” Lorne replied. “This is a search and rescue mission only. We can’t engage two Hive ships in battle. Caldwell would be seriously pissed if I get his ship and all his people blown up on my first run out.”
“What about Dr. Weir?” Ronon continued. “She’s still-”
“I know,” Lorne cut in, but he looked disgusted as he gave further protests. “I’m sorry, but my orders are clear-”
“We can’t just leave Elizabeth out there!”
The indecision was written clearly across Lorne’s face, and Rodney knew they could get to him. They just needed to impress upon him that-the argument was cut short as the first Hive ship picked that moment to emerge. It sent out a shot across the bow as soon as it dropped out of Hyperspace.
Lorne ordered return fire, and the next few moments, Rodney was bracing himself against the wall while the ship rocked sideways. His eyes darted to Lorne, but the Major’s attention remained focused on a view beyond the exterior glass shield. The Hive ship increased its speed and ascent, diving toward the Daedalus. Rodney jumped into the chaos to give damage assessments after a second direct hit, and sparks of electricity flew out at Rodney from the console. He saw the smoke in the corner of his eye and gripped the controls even harder, praying against the impact of the next missile.
Over the chaos, he traded a look with Ronon and Teyla. Elizabeth was out there, mutating, on her own in a hostile environment with two hive ships bearing down on the planet.
“Sheppard would never forgive us if we left her like this,” Ronon shouted over the noise.
Rodney snorted in disgust. “I’d never forgive us!”
“We can’t stay here and fight for much longer!” Lorne declared, when the second Hive ship dropped out of space. “Sergeant,” he called to a technician. “Is the Daedalus ready to jump?”
“Yes, sir!”
Teyla protested. “No, wait-”
“Do it!” Lorne ordered, grimly.
The ship jumped before Rodney could get in a word.
Elizabeth looked up at the dance of pretty lights in the night sky. As the Daedalus streaked blue as it jumped into hyperspace, she knew the battle was over. That faint undercurrent of a psychic bond with John snapped as if cut, and Elizabeth flinched. The presence of the two Hive ships was disconcerting, but Elizabeth barely noticed it. She was too overwhelmed by a primal grief. Her eyes darkened, returning to the dirt pathway before her.
She had her mission. Find the nest. Find the eggs.
Remember me, he had pleaded.
She would soon fail in that.
Seventy-two hours later, Carson collapsed onto one of the visitor’s chair in Elizabeth’s office, and felt like he might never move again. John’s surgery had been successful, and the stem cell treatment had resumed course once again. Still, the euphoria of accomplishment was dulled by the conversation he was about to have with Caldwell. It further dampened his spirits when he saw Rodney and Ronon turning the corner, in the midst of hounding Caldwell for what he suspected was the same issue.
“I have my direct orders from the IOA!” Caldwell protested, sounding strung out and agitated. “Every time we’ve sent any men out to the planet, the Wraith have always been there. Including the incident last year where Colonel Sheppard was bitten by the Iratus bug. Clearly, P3S-X63 is a Wraith stronghold. We can’t afford to-”
“Y’know,” Rodney scowled, snapping. “Ever since you’ve been in this position of power, all I’ve heard from you is what you can’t do. You can’t allow Elizabeth and John out of the brig. You can’t give them the benefit of the doubt. You can’t not try to kill them. And now this? Is there anything you can do? Or should we just start calling you Colonel No like an evil bald villain from one of those Bond movies?”
Caldwell threw Rodney a malevolent glare, and Rodney held firm for about a second before he deflated.
“Okay,” Rodney continued, laughing nervously. “Here’s a reason why everything I just said may have been stupid. You’re my boss. My new boss. And I respect that, and you, but what you’ve got to understand is that-”
“We don’t leave a man behind,” Ronon finished, gruffly. He crossed his arms over his chest, standing in front of Caldwell like an immovable pillar. “We need to go back for Dr. Weir.”
Caldwell shook his head. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But my hands are tied. I just got word from Earth. They’ve officially ordered me to declare Dr. Weir’s status as MIA.”
"She's not missing! We know where she is!"
Carson rose, finally intervening by making his presence known. “Gentlemen,” he said. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”
Caldwell seemed relieved for an out. He strode passed Rodney and Ronon, circling around the glass desk to stand behind it. “What’s the good news?”
“Colonel Sheppard is recovering nicely - well, as nicely as he can when he spends half his awake time growling and calling-”… and calling for Elizabeth in delirium. Carson cleared his throat. “Ironically enough, his mutation helped him heal from the gun shot faster. It saved his life. I’ve only just resumed his stem cell treatment. He should gain full recovery on time, within 10 days.”
“He’ll be human again?” Ronon asked. “Fully human?”
“100% flyboy,” Carson confirmed.
Caldwell sighed in relief. “And the bad news?” Carson paused, glancing to Rodney and Ronon briefly. This news was painful enough to deliver, but now doubly so with their presence. After a moment of indecision, Caldwell prodded Carson, though not unkindly. “Doctor, what is it?”
Carson pressed his lips into a thin line. “By my estimations, if Elizabeth’s mutation continued to progress at the aggressive rate it had been, then she has likely already reached a point where none of my synthetic cures would help her - even in theory. I need those bloody stem cells for a cure! Without that, even if we managed to find her, I wouldn’t be able to help her.”
Rodney paled, searching for words for a second. “You could still discover something else-”
“Aye, Rodney. While I appreciate your confidence, I don’t share it. I’ve been struggling to make heads or tails of this mutation for weeks now, and we’ve gotten no closer to an alternative cure.”
“Maybe with a few more weeks of experimen-”
“I’d need years, Rodney! This isn’t a simple matter. Do you know how many barriers we’ve had to jump through? Do you know how many more obstacles stand in the way? You’re asking my team to do the impossible, and it’s just not going to happen. Not this time. Not with what we have.”
Carson paused, pinching the bridge of his nose. There would be no miraculous cure at the eleventh hour, not this time. His throat got a little rough, and Carson cleared it forcefully, feeling like an utter failure. He’d done the impossible time and time again, but this time… it was too much to ask.
Everyone was quiet for a long beat. The only ones that could get to those bloody Iratus bug nests were John and Elizabeth, and Carson wasn’t stupid enough to risk John again. Not after everything. Which only left Elizabeth as an option, but they couldn’t retrieve her. They couldn’t help her.
They all stood there in Elizabeth’s office, and Carson felt the keen absence of her presence like a missing limb.
Her mind had changed now, as well as her body. It had never occurred to her that when she would finally succeed in finding a nest and retrieving an egg, she would no longer remember what to do afterwards.
She simply searched, becoming nothing more than a hunter after its prey.
The woman named Elizabeth Weir had faded away.
10 Days Later
John set his foot down and quickly laced up his boot, then paused, staring at his hand. He flexed his fingers a little - his completely normal, human hands - and wondered if he’d ever take them for granted again. After weeks of treatment and more close calls then he wanted to think about, he was human again. The guards had left, the treatments were over, and John was free and clear to leave the infirmary and the brig to return to his private quarters again.
Not that he had any intention of doing that, of course.
Ten days, he’d been cooped up and going insane. He’d been anxious and frustrated by repeatedly being stalled on the prospect of rescuing Elizabeth. Jesus, she was out there on her own on a Wraith-infested planet. It scared the shit out of him just thinking about it, and he'd done little else for ten days. He didn’t care what the IOA ordered. He knew where she was, and he was going after her.
Now he just needed to make sure no one else knew about his plans.
John slid on his jacket as Teyla entered the infirmary. He gathered his bag and slung it over his shoulder, and Teyla offered a timid smile as she stepped up to his bedside.
“Are you sure you should you be up and about so soon?”
John rolled his eyes. “Well, I've been cooped up in this damned Infirmary for a couple of weeks. Give me a break.”
Teyla forced another smile. “You are looking well. Are you feeling more like yourself?”
“Well, according to my D.N.A., I'm a hundred percent John Sheppard again... although, I gotta say, I'm looking forward to getting rid of this thing one day.”
He glanced down to his right arm where he’d been clawed by Ellia. It was still a pale blue color, and the skin looked tough, but Carson assured him that it would clear up eventually. It was the only mark left on him after everything, nothing more than residue.
Silence descended, and he had a lot on his mind but he glanced to Teyla for a moment, feeling awkward. “Ah, so listen. While I've been laying here the past week, I've been remembering things. Some things I might have done that you could call… out of character.”
“You mean when you attacked the security detail - twice?”
John flinched, ‘cause yeah, there was that. But they both knew he was talking about the kiss he’d forced on her during that sparring session. He appreciated Teyla trying to make light of the discussion, but just thinking about the incident made John’s skin itch in awkwardness.
“Yeah,” he replied, clearing his throat, “that was one of them. But there's another thing I should probably apologize for.
Teyla regarded him with heavy consideration for a moment, before she eased it with a soft smile. “Give it no further thought, John. You were not yourself.” She paused, delicately, and her voice turned painful. “Neither was Elizabeth.”
Thick, heavy silence descended.
John hefted his shoulder bag higher, then gave Teyla a stiff nod. “I’ll see you later.”
“Where are you headed?”
He paused. “Just gotta take care of something.”
When he started striding towards the exit, Teyla called out for him to stop. After a beat, she approached him in three quick strides, and lowered her voice. “I know what you are about to do. Let us help you-”
“No,” John returned forcefully, and his tone brokered no argument. “I do this alone. I’ve endangered enough lives as it is. I’m taking responsibility now. No one else but me.”
He knew the odds. He knew about the Wraith stronghold and how Elizabeth’s mutation was probably complete now. He didn’t care. He couldn’t leave her there on that alien planet, and he knew his team was right there with him. But the IOA had turned stubborn and immovable about this subject, and while his teammates may have been willing to risk everything, he wasn’t willing to let them try.
No more collateral damage. Not on this one. He'd done enough of that.
Teyla’s lips sealed into a thin line, staring at him. “There is nothing I can say that will change your mind?”
“I’ve got this,” he said. “And trust me, this is something I can handle better on my own.”
He left the infirmary behind. By the time John gathered the last of his supplies, visited an isolated ammunitions locker on the far west wing, then approached the jumper bay, he was ahead of schedule by five minutes. The guard rotation would happen at the end of the hour, and then the shift change in the Gateroom would occur ten minutes after that. He just needed to bide his time and lay low for a while. He’d been planning this to perfection for over a week now, and there was almost nothing he hadn’t anticipated - even going so far as to fabricate several reasons for him being armed and in this part of the city so soon after release from the infirmary.
However, there was one thing he hadn’t anticipated.
“What?” Caldwell said to him, standing next to Carson near the foot of an open jumper. “You’re finally released from detention, and you expect anyone to believe your first instinct wouldn’t be to return to P3S-X63 to get Dr. Weir back?”
“We’ve been waiting here for half an hour,” Carson announced. “You’re a fairly predictable man.”
John paused. His first thought was that they were there to stop them, but then his gaze dropped down to the medical kit in Carson’s hands and the distinct lack of armed guards around the jumper.
“What’s going on, sir?”
“Officially,” Caldwell articulated, “I’m supposed to detain you. I can’t allow anyone to go AWOL trying to retrieve what the IOA has declared a lost cause.”
John glanced from Caldwell to Carson, then back to Caldwell again. “Unofficially?”
“Screw the IOA,” Caldwell declared. “I can't risk much, but we’ve secured a jumper for you with enough supplies to last you two a few days-”
“Two?” John repeated, and Carson’s offworld attire suddenly made sense. “Oh, no. No way. I’m not taking-”
Carson rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Colonel, but unless you took a learning annex course these last few weeks while I wasn’t looking, you aren’t a board certified medical practitioner. I am. You’re going to need my help with Elizabeth.”
John opened his mouth, but Caldwell overrode him. “Consider it an order.”
“Order?”
“Unofficially,” Caldwell returned with a smile. “I’ll get you that Gateroom clearance. Better hurry.” He turned and began striding for the exit. “Oh, and Sheppard?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t screw this one up.”
The jumper soared over the treetops of P3S-X63, cloaked and silent, while not less than a hundred miles above them, two Hive Ships hovered over the planet’s atmosphere.
“Where do we start?” Carson asked. “This is a big planet.”
“The last time I was here with Elizabeth, I took a jumper. I’m hoping she’s not far from it.”
“How do we find the jumper?”
“I remembered where I parked it.”
Carson paused. “Right. Elizabeth doesn’t have the gene. But what makes you think she’s still using it or around it?”
John didn’t give an answer because he didn’t have one. He pulled up the topographic maps of the land below, studying it for the familiar outcropping of trees where he’d stashed the last jumper. The map scrolled across the land on the wall screen in front of him, then narrowed in to a small one-mile square piece of forest.
“It’s there,” John announced. He picked the destination, then glided the jumper smoothly over the swaying trees. “You’ll stay in the jumper while I go have a look around-”
“But I-”
“No arguments, Carson. Elizabeth could be dangerous, and she isn’t the only thing out here that is.”
There was a brief pause. “Do you think you can handle her?”
John licked his lips, trying to quell the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. When his mutation had been at its worst, John remembered having trouble keeping focus, remembering whom his friends were. Elizabeth’s mutation by now had past that stage. He tried to mentally prepare himself for what he might face - an Elizabeth that was ruled entirely by the retrovirus. There was no telling what her reaction to him would be. He hoped she’d remember him, but only time would tell.
“John?” Carson prodded, then sighed, letting the matter drop. "Just be careful."
They arrived at the outcropping of trees, and John lowered the jumper onto a nearby field of grass. “Just stay in the jumper and be alert. Keep an eye out. You hail me on the radio if anything happens.”
Carson laughed, nervously. “You mean like the Hive Ships bearing down on me?”
John patted Carson on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Doc. I’m sure the bigger concerns here are the wild animals outside the jumper door.”
“Wild animals?” Carson squeaked. “What type of wild animals?”
John tried not to grin. “Well, let’s just say, if I were you, I wouldn’t leave to take a leak or anything.”
“Duly noted.”
John hefted a P-90 across his chest and slipped a small stunner into his backpack, then slipped out the back door. Outside, it was pitch black and dead silent. He surveyed the area, then picked a direction and set about hunting down Elizabeth’s jumper.
Fifteen minutes later, he found the jumper right where he left it. He lowered the backdoor and entered in, stumbling slightly at the foot when he discovered dirt, rocks and leaves had found their way into the jumper. The benches were also lined with the cleaned skins of animals, and there was something hanging from the top that John soon figured out must have been remainders of last night’s meal.
Elizabeth had turned the jumper into her nest.
It lacked her normal feminine touch, to say the least.
He spent another minute examining the jumper for clues when he stumbled across something in the front cockpit section. Three Iratus bug eggs were nestled against the wall; she’d found the nests! Tampering down on the excitement, he immediately examined the eggs to find them intact, then radio hailed Carson and informed him of the development.
“Bloody hell,” Carson breathed in tangible relief that John could hear, even over the radio. “Elizabeth just saved herself. We might be able to do something with that.”
He exhaled, then set the eggs down again. “I’m going to go look for Elizabeth.”
“Good luck, Colonel.”
Deciding that she probably wasn’t far, he stepped back out of the jumper. The trees swayed from a soft eastern wind, and there wasn’t a sound except for some faint crunching of leaves beneath his feet. He glanced skyward where the dim outline of the two Hive ships could be seen. Creepy, John decided, but he tried to keep focus on the surroundings around him.
A sudden collapse of a heavy tree branch behind him sent John falling forward. Then something hit him - he never saw what - and before John could formulate a thought, abrupt blackness claimed him.
John came to with his head throbbing and a stiff pain in his shoulders. He groaned, tasting dirt in his mouth, then shook loose his disorientation to make out his surroundings. He was in a large cave of some type - it was as big, dark, and disconcerting as a cave should have been, and he peered into the darkness.
The sight of two dead Wraith bodies littered on the floor in the corner greeted him.
Something landed behind him. Marshalling his strength, John struggled to his feet and turned around. The sight of Elizabeth staring down at him stole his breath. Without a scratch of clothing on, Elizabeth stood in the dim light, completely nude. Dark bluish skin covered every inch of her, from the slim belly to her wide hips and bare chest. Though he’d seen her only ten days back, his memory of many of the events were distorted and vague. Some memories, however, were only all too vivid.
He distinctly remembered the savage hunger that had taken him over, mating with her repeatedly like some lust-driven animal.
... That had actually been kinda enjoyable.
But he couldn’t think like that now. He forced his eyes to meet hers, studying her face. For a moment, John could do nothing other than stare. There was a familiarity in her features, especially around the eyes, cheekbone and the shape of her face, but mostly she was… alien. She drew one step closer. Strands of her tousled hair crept over her eyes, and she tilted her head, examining him. Though he knew it was risky, he cautiously raised a hand and reached for her, hoping to soothe her by contact.
She struck out a hand and sent him reeling back to the ground.
He landed hard on his left side, twisting his ankle in the fall. Groaning, John raised his head. “Okay, no touching. Check. We’ll just talk, then.”
She strode towards him, then stopped, eyeing him from a few feet away. She sniffed the air, then hunched her shoulders and narrowed her eyes. John could sense her curiosity hidden underneath a layer of barely-contained hostility. He didn’t see any stark recognition, though.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed, getting to his feet again. She hissed angrily, and he recoiled, raising his hands. “Okay, okay. We’re cool. We’ll all good.”
She didn’t recognize him.
He was positive of that now, and fear and grief kicked him in the stomach but he forced it back, needing to stay calm. She’d spent the last ten days here by herself, and if the presence of the two dead Wraith bodies in the corner was any indication, she’d been through a lot. She had reason to treat everything unknown as hostile. So, when she stalked around him, it took every inch of willpower not to react to the subtle threat of her circling around him like a shark would its prey. She drew closer at his back, sniffing again, and he wondered if he smelled familiar.
“It’s me, John. You remember me, right? Lovable flyboy. Second in command. Phenomenal in the sack? Remember that one time I sucked a cherry out of your bellybutton and we used whip cream to-”
She hissed.
He stopped, trying for a reassuring smile - though it probably came out a grimace. “I maybe exaggerated the whole “phenomenal” thing. Maybe." He continued awkwardly, stumbling over the words. "Still, I’m, um… your, ah, mate. You remem-”
She shoved him down, and John winced, feeling the impact hard on his left knee as his legs caved under him. The next second, she was looming over him and John realized she had him on his knees, a clear sign of supplication. He was level with her waist, and without a stitch of clothing on, he stared at the nexus of her hips.
He coughed, turning his head away. He was fairly sure his ears were turning red. Breathing unevenly, he realized this was definitely one of those times where he really couldn’t think with his dick first. John found that his normal flippant disposition was failing him just when he needed it the most. He struggled for something to say, something to do, but she was acting aggressive and wanton, and his natural instinct in this situation was to either go R-rated, or make sarcastic remarks.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Whatever you do, just please don’t bite me. I’m pretty sure Carson would kill me if you infected me once more and we went through this whole process again.”
Elizabeth stared at him, unflinching and clearly not getting the humor.
The tension between them shivered, waiting.
He grew somber. They had come full circle. Just a month prior, it had been the exact opposite of this. Elizabeth had been standing before his mutating self, and she’d never wavered, never backed down, never given up on reaching through to him. She’d been his constant touchstone to reality and his true self. He needed to do that same thing for her now.
“Elizabeth, you've been infected by the retrovirus, but I know you’re in there. I know you’re still there. You have to fight. You have to take back control.” He paused, and his throat constricted a little. “C’mon, there has to be a part of you that recognizes me."
She stared at him, unblinking.
"I'm your mate," he said bluntly, without any of the hesitation this time. "I'm the one person you can count on, without fail. Recognize me. Remember me, damn it! I know you can. You're in there, Elizabeth. Remember me."
There was a slight pressure on his temple, an unpleasant sensation of something beginning to force its way into his mind. It quickly took John over. He groaned, face scrunched up in pain as a wave of something assaulted him. It took a second to realize that it was Elizabeth reaching out psychically. It wasn’t at all like before, when they’d shared the bond. His body no longer reacted the same way. Instead, it was like that time that Wraith Queen had invaded John’s mind, the intrusion violent and unwelcomed and giving him one hell of a headache.
He had no idea what she was after, rolling around in his head. But after a moment, memories were forced to the surface: Elizabeth, that first day on Atlantis. Elizabeth, on the balcony. When she hugged him, when he kissed her. The first time they made love.
Suddenly, he was reliving memories and showing Elizabeth things they’d shared in the last two years of his life.
"It’s better for the both of us."
"Don’t try to deny this, Elizabeth."
"It was good while it lasted, huh?"
"I have to, and you know it."
"You’re home."
"You’ve got to trust me."
"I’d like to say something while I still can."
"It’s good to hear your voice."
'Mate.'
She forced images and details to the surface, and it went on and on, a never-ending stream of past sensations and feelings and words spoken that blended together in a moment that lasted a lifetime. Or at least, it felt that way to John.
'Remember me.'
Elizabeth suddenly gasped and released him, and John fell to the floor, groaning, head pounding like someone had taken a jackhammer to it.
‘John?’ she asked, recognition in the word.
Epilogue
Three Weeks Later
Over the last two months, there had been plenty of times when Caldwell had sorely missed the safe dependability that had encapsulated his command of the Daedalus. There, he was in his element. There was little that had felt out of control or beyond his capabilities, but wielding that same authority on Atlantis had turned out to be something else entirely.
His estimations of Elizabeth’s performance went higher and higher the more he stood in her shoes. It wasn’t easy for him to command a group of people that only thinly hid their preference for another commander. He respected their loyalty to Elizabeth and even Sheppard, but it had made things maddening and tens times more frustrating than it needed to be. He hated being seen as an outsider, especially when all he was trying to do was help keep the flooding to a minimum.
So, it was ironic that it took Richard Woosley of all people to make Caldwell’s life easier.
“What I’m trying to understand, Colonel,” Woosley said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “is that despite clear and direct orders from superiors, why you decided to let Colonel Sheppard go back to P3S-X63 anyway?”
“I made a decision based on the needs of Atlantis,” Caldwell said, stiffly. “Morale had been suffering greatly because people here thought they had essentially abandoned their leader to a hostile world. Considering Atlantis is principally a lone Earth colony in a foreign galaxy... well, morale and solidarity are important, don’t you think?”
Woosley sighed. “I agree, but you still disobeyed orders.”
“And a woman’s life was saved,” Caldwell returned. “But you don’t have to take my word for it. Here comes Dr. Beckett.”
He waved Beckett over, then waited politely with Woosley until the doctor joined them. “Yes, Colonel?”
“I was hoping you could give us an update on Dr. Weir’s status.”
He smiled broadly, looking rested and relieved. “A full and effective recovery. The Iratus Bug stem cells were invaluable. I have to say, I was a little worried we might have been too late in beginning the treatment, but after a few short hiccups, Dr. Weir responded to the treatment just as hoped. She’s being released from the infirmary this afternoon.”
Woosley cleared his throat, a tad sheepishly. “Yes, well, I can speak for everyone back on Earth, especially the IOA, in saying that we’re all relieved to hear that.”
Caldwell traded a subtle look with Beckett. Those were lofty words coming from an organization that had essentially abandoned her to her own devices. Caldwell had always been smart and quick with politics, but he was a soldier first and foremost. He understood the necessities of cutting loose lost causes, but the way the IOA had handled this entire mess was… well, the marines on base had been calling it a clusterfuck. Caldwell tended to agree.
After a beat, Woosley continued awkwardly. “Thank you for the update, Doctor, but I actually have some further information that I need to discuss with the Colonel in private. If you could excuse us for a second?”
“Of course,” Beckett said, then turned to Caldwell. “Colonel.”
“Doctor,” Caldwell returned, amiably.
Beckett left, and internally Caldwell mused over the fact that one month prior, this same doctor had been the proverbial thorn at his side. Now, they were exchanging pleasant farewells. Caldwell marveled at the change in behavior - not just from Beckett, but from everyone in the City. Once Woosley had been appointed to investigate the incidents, suddenly Caldwell had found himself embraced by Atlantis personnel as one of their own. He knew a lot of the change had to do with his hand in Elizabeth’s rescue three weeks prior, and he had to admit, it was nice.
Woosley followed Caldwell into the clear glass office, then perched on the corner of the desk. “What else can I help you with, Mr. Woosley?”
“There’s also another matter we need to discuss,” he paused, delicately, “regarding the nature of the relationship between Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard. There seems to be some concern that… certain lines of propriety may have been crossed during these last few weeks.”
“Lines of propriety?”
“The reports seem to suggest that…” Woosley went a little red in the face, “there may have been, uh, what could be referred to as, um, coupling.”
It took all Caldwell's effort not to laugh in Woosley’s face. The man seemed inordinately flustered, not that Caldwell could really blame him. He'd had more than his fair share of encounters side-stepping and hand-waving the nature of Sheppard and Weir’s relationship - and that had been long before any retrovirus had entered the picture. Still, unlike Woosley, Caldwell did his best to respect certain boundaries.
What he didn't know for sure, without irrefutable evidence, he couldn't comment on. Plausible deniability. It was a thing of beauty sometimes.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Caldwell replied smoothly. “Who’s been giving you these reports?”
“Rumors, Colonel.”
“I’d be careful to trust those. This is a big city, but it’s a lot like a small town in many ways. Rumors spread like wildfire.”
“Still, it’s something to be concerned about, don’t you think? Regulations being what they are on fraternization-”
Caldwell interceded, “Y’know, it’s been a while since I’ve brushed up on my military regulations, but I’m almost a 100% positive that it doesn’t apply to civilian leaders such as Dr. Weir.”
Woosley pressed his lips into a thin line. “Semantics, Colonel. Surely you could see the inherent problems of fraternization between Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir. We can’t turn a blind eye to an office affair like that.”
“I wasn’t aware there were accusations of that,” Caldwell returned. “I thought we were talking about the last few weeks and… coupling?”
Woosley turned flustered again. “Yes, well, I’ve been given authority for a full fledged investigation here. We can’t have illicit activity going on that could compromise the chain of command. Anymore than what’s already been demonstrated, that is.”
That had been a dig at Caldwell. He narrowed his eyes, realizing this was a witch-hunt. Maybe the last six weeks here had brainwashed him, but it didn’t sit right, the way the IOA was going after them. When Caldwell had first come to Atlantis months back, he’d gotten more than a cold reception from some, especially Elizabeth. He’d chalked it up to paranoia, but the more time he spent in Atlantis, the more he got it.
With friends like these, who needed enemies?
Carson waited until Woosley left the office, then approached Caldwell and knocked on his door. The Colonel waved him in, and Carson closed the door after him to offer them some measure of privacy.
“How bad is it?”
Caldwell looked up. “Off the record? Bad. I think they’re thinking about removing Dr. Weir, or stringing up Sheppard with a court martial for conduct unbecoming. Mainly because of their… relationship with each other. I don’t think they’re too thrilled with me, either.”
Carson’s jaw set into a hard line. “What did he ask you?”
Bluntly, Caldwell answered, “He wanted to know if I thought they were sleeping together.” Carson sputtered, and Caldwell raised a hand. “Relax, Doctor. I told him that I’ve never noticed anything unusual about their relationship, and it’s always seemed a healthy and professional one.”
The look on Caldwell’s face belied his true feelings on the subject, though.
Carson cleared his throat. “Yes, well, thank you for your discretion, Colonel. I must say, you turned out to be a man of honor.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Caldwell returned. “And, for the record, you were… well, actually, you were a bit of a pain in the ass.” Carson laughed, and Caldwell smirked back at him. “But Sheppard and Weir were lucky to have you in their corner.”
“Aye, and you, too. Your voucher on the nature of their relationship will mean a lot to the IOA, surely.”
“Don’t be too relieved. I’m just one man in a city full of people.”
The point was obvious. There had always been rumors in Atlantis centered about Elizabeth and John, since the very beginning of their expedition. It was natural, of course. Such were the hardships of being in the spotlight, and besides, the close friendship between the two had made such rumors easy to believe. But true or false, rumors had always been just that - rumors. Speculation. Idle curiosity.
The events of the last few weeks, however, would make even a disbelieving man raise an eyebrow.
Someone would talk, and maybe that would be enough for Woosley to condemn.
“This is going to ruin them, isn’t it?”
Caldwell’s expression was solemn. “If they don’t handle it very, very carefully… yes.”
A quarter mile away from the control center, Elizabeth gathered up the last of her belongings and left the infirmary behind. In the hallway several scientists greeted her with a cheerful hello, and Elizabeth returned it with a warm smile. Inside she was still adjusting to what everyone else considered normalcy, but the image she presented to the outside world was determinedly composed and, hopefully, easygoing.
For such a harrying few weeks of mutations, the recovery period afterwards had been relatively anti-climatic. Elizabeth appreciated that, as she’d had just about enough excitement to last a lifetime. She was eager to get back to work, back to the normal routine of mundane day-to-day life in Atlantis - not that such a thing existed, of course. But it was a thought that had comforted her over the past fortnight.
It felt good to be out and about, but there was a small, hidden part of her that feared all of this was just an illusion, something temporary that would be taken away from her again. She’d spent too many nights these last few weeks, worrying over everything. There were so many things left up in the air. Woosley’s little visit was just one of the many headaches Elizabeth knew she’d have to face and confront, but at least there, she was in a familiar shark-infested waters.
Other concerns were more foreboding. One, in particular, named John Sheppard.
She returned to her quarters to find everything neatly in its place, awaiting her return as if not more than a day had passed since she'd last stepped foot in here. She dropped her overnight bag on the floor when the door slid shut behind her. Instead of immediately settling in, she crossed the wide-open space and approached the bayside window, where she stood for several long moments, staring out at the breathtaking view. The sun streamed in through her open drapes, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself and stared. A small bit of peace washed over her, interrupted only a moment later when there was a knock at her door.
When she answered it, John was at the threshold. “Can I come in?”
She stared for a beat, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.
Despite three weeks of confinement to the infirmary, she could count on one hand the number of conversations she’d had with him. Recovering, Elizabeth nodded and stepped back, allowing John to enter. In the lull of her treatments, they’d both felt the full repercussions of all the various events that had transpired between them. Elizabeth knew he was worried about her, about them and was probably lost on what to do about either. After all, before she’d been infected, she’d arrived at his doorstep with the full intentions of breaking up with him.
“How’re you feeling?”
She tried for a smile. “Would you believe me if I said I feel tired? Three weeks of forced bed-rest, and I’m still tired.”
“Get active again. You’ll feel better.”
“Trust me, I know. I just want things to go back to normal again.”
Her eyes drifted briefly to his before she snapped them away again. Caught up in the thought of what normal meant for either of them, Elizabeth turned and waved him further into the room. Averting her gaze, she bent to pick up her overnight bag and brought it over to her small table.
“I just spoke with Caldwell,” John said, to fill the silence. “He seems to think Woosley has it in for us.”
Elizabeth froze, then after a beat, resumed unpacking her belongings. “I’m not sure about that. Something tells me his bark is worse than his bite.”
“Yeah?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Woosley knows about us,” John said eventually. “I mean, he doesn’t know, know, but he’s heard things.”
“Things?”
“Rumors,” John said softly, and Elizabeth flinched.
Taking in a deep breath to counter the sick fear churning in her gut, she retrieved a book from her bag and rested it on the table. It was an old copy of “Pride and Prejudice,” something that had been circulating through Atlantis like many of the other communal items. John stepped up beside her and thumbed through the pages for a second, eventually flipping to the back cover where Kate Heightmeyer’s name was scrawled in elegant cursive. Books, movies, music - they were all horded together and then shared.
“You spoken to Heightmeyer lately?”
“No,” she returned. “You?”
She didn’t need an answer because she already knew, but John offered a single-shouldered shrug, as if to say it didn’t matter one way or another. A part of her wondered if therapy wasn’t just the thing they needed, though, to recover from this mess. Still, knowing that and acting upon on it were two very different things. Besides, it was practically infeasible for her to go into couple’s therapy with her military commander. Talk about fodder for the rumor mill.
That also assumed they were still a couple. Elizabeth wasn’t sure about that either.
She released a heavy breath and crossed the room to sit down at the edge of her canopy bed. The sudden weight of everything felt a little too much, and she couldn’t meet John’s eyes or risk falling apart into a sobbing mess. God, why was everything so complicated? If it wasn’t the IOA, it was Caldwell. If it wasn’t outside forces, it was internal ones driving them apart. It if wasn’t her, then it was him.
“Is it supposed to be this hard?” Elizabeth asked, and though it was supposed to be a rhetorical question, for once, she wanted a damn answer. “I don’t remember it being this hard before.”
Simon had been a lot of things, but hard to manage had never been one of them.
John sat down next to her, his thigh brushing against hers and Elizabeth suddenly wanted more contact with him. At the same time, she also wanted to flee. Eventually, his fingers found hers, and he squeezed her hand in reassurance until she found the courage to look up at him.
“We live in a galaxy where our enemies think we’re happy meals on legs," he said. "Complicated comes with the territory.”
She hated that answer, even if it did make sense.
“What do we do now?”
He paused. “I was kinda hoping you could tell me. What do you want, Elizabeth?”
Her first, instinctive reaction was to tell John - him. She wanted him. Complications and all, her heart and head were still too tangled up in him to abandon the idea of them altogether. But then a second later, she wasn’t as sure anymore.
She sat there, warring against two instincts. It was almost a struggle just not to stare openly, drinking in the sight of him safe and human, and follow up on it with the tactile confirmation of the same. But then again, she had a mental list tallied up of every single reason why breaking it off with him made sense. Those arguments still held water.
“I broke up with you for a reason,” she said, then laughed softly, because she wasn’t entirely sure a break up that ended in a make-out session actually counted. Still. “This is too messy. We can’t afford our focus to be split like this-”
“A little late for that, don’t you think?”
There was a long beat of silence after that, and Elizabeth couldn’t force herself to maintain eye contact. He was right about that, of course. Emotions were tangled up, perhaps irrevocably, but that didn’t mean they had to make things worse.
"What do you want, Elizabeth?” he repeated. “Because that’s what it comes down to. I know what I want, and it’s you.”
Those were bold words coming from a man that normally had trouble expressing his emotions, and Elizabeth snapped her eyes up despite herself. He looked determined and calm, like he knew what he was doing now and felt 100% conviction in it. She silently marveled at that, even a tad bit jealous. The last time they’d danced this dance, he’d been intent on making the break-up easy on her. It seemed after these last few weeks, he’d changed his mind on that tactic.
She pulled her hand free and stood. “It’s not that simple. You said it yourself, the IOA-”
He shook his head and glanced away, a hint of anger blooming in his eyes. “If you think I’m letting you go because of the IOA, after what I just went through getting you back," he trailed off and groaned, eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to marshal his words together, “then you’ve got another thing coming, Elizabeth. I’m not backing down for them.” He opened his eyes to stare at her, pleading. “What do you want, Elizabeth?”
She lost herself a little in the hazel of his eyes. No one had ever been able to hold her gaze like John Sheppard. She swore she could get lost in them for minutes without the urge to look away ever creeping up.
“You,” she admitted, almost despite herself. “I want you, Joh-”
He was up and kissing her before she could finish. His grip on her was tight, body pressed against hers, and she could feel hard muscles that she wanted desperately to map and relearn. There was little controlling these instincts, she realized. It was like trying to fight a tidal wave, and Elizabeth felt exhausted at the mere thought of doing that. She melted into the embrace, and John coaxed her lips apart and slipped his tongue inside until she was moaning.
She remembered exactly what it felt like to make love to him as both a man and the alien creature he’d turned into, but she much preferred the former to the latter. He was real, human and whole - everything she’d ever wanted with a few traits thrown in that she never realized she needed.
When they pulled back, there were tears gathering in her eyes. His arms wrapped around her, and like the lovers they were, he adjusted his body to cradle hers. She pressed her face into the curve of his neck, inhaling his scent. Elizabeth felt his heart thudding against hers and tears threatened, but didn’t fall.
She didn’t want to let him go. She didn’t.
“Shh,” he soothed, running his hands up and down her back. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.”
“John,” she protested, pulling back, “it isn’t that simple.”
“Elizabeth, we just fought through our own personal hell to save each other.” He smirked a little. “You didn’t even forget about me when your damn DNA was telling you to. Can’t you have a little faith that we can beat the odds on this, then?”
Well, when he put it like that…
John captured her lips in another kiss, edging her back towards the bed with his body. His fingers threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her head, and then she was falling onto the mattress with him on top of her. She pressed hands against his chest, feeling warm muscles and the rapid beating of his heart, and then he was nuzzling the side of her face, pressing a series of kisses to her all-too sensitive neck. She shivered when he breathed her name against her skin.
Elizabeth clutched at him desperately, feeling the weight of his body pressing hers down, and there was something about this moment that solidified it for her.
Let the IOA try their usual tricks.
She wouldn’t lose John without one hellava fight.
Fin! \O/ Feedback appreciated.