Chapter One:

He walks into her office unannounced, a bag strapped to his back, a spring in his step and a grin that tells her this visit will bring nothing but trouble on his face. "Ready to go?"

She raises one delicate brow, "I'm not coming offworld with you again John; I remember what happened last time." She winces, she's sure she still has those bruises.

Abruptly his smirk fades as he slips down to sit on the side of her desk (when did she say he was allowed there?) and gives a hurt pout, "c'mon that's not fair Elizabeth," he wheedles (she immediately raises her mental walls because she know what happens when that tone comes out) "I told you that was Rodney's fault. If I recall I wasn't the one that insulted the natives by calling them, what was it? Descendants of the tooth fairy?" He returns her glare with the soft puppy eyes.

"And as I recall," she shot back, while her fingers continued to type frantically, "Rodney wasn't the one who was born with an uncontrollable magnetic pull for any trouble within a two galaxy radius." There was only one man who got rightful claim to that label and he was sitting right in front of her. "Besides," she adds before he can protest, "Unless you want finish all of these reports I'm stuck in the city, and I didn't think you even had a mission scheduled for today."

His face switches quickly from wounded to plain evil, "I don't but whoever said anything about going out of the city? There's still a whole wing of Atlantis we haven't even explored properly yet. We'd better get a move on don't you think?"

"I'm sure your team can manage to explore it without me John. Now go, I have to get this done."

He sighs, "Elizabeth where in your job contract it does it state that you must work yourself to the bone in order for the city to keep running?"

"John..." There is a warning note in her voice.

"I mean I've read mine and I'm sure it doesn't include 'death from mission files' in it anywhere."

"John Sheppard..." Full name, must be getting serious now.

"And I'm sure it doesn't order you to starve yourself of food AND sleep either."

"Colonel..." Rank too, she'd break any second now.

"I mean its been what? A month since you got the job back, surely it wouldn't hurt to take one day off. Look around the city a bit, maybe have a picnic, I mean wouldn't it be nice if you could SEE this place you're killing yourself for –"

"COLONEL SHEPPARD!"

He cut off as half of the control room's head snapped over to look at them; John gave her an innocent look, "sorry did you say something?"

She groaned and buried her face in her hands, "fine." She snapped as she looks up again, "for just one day. I will come with you to explore the west wing with you. Happy now?"

"Sure," he grinned and hopped up, "I'll meet you there in ten minutes, wear something comfortable."

He jogs out without looking back and Elizabeth can't prevent the smile from sliding across her face as she closes down her laptop. Maybe he was right; she needed a break.

She just had to make sure he never knows that.

X-X

"How many Ancients do you think lived here?" John muses as they dawdle along the dimly lit corridor.

Elizabeth shakes her head, "who knows?" She says softly, "this must have been a great place once, full of people."

Branching out from the control tower the city was split into five massive wings, riots of towering spires and graceful buildings; three of them were dedicated to science research; one for medical, one for military and the third miscellaneous (or at least the 'Earth-born Atlantians' as they had become to call themselves hadn't been able to find any theme to the technology in the last wing). The fourth wing was made up of small, individual living quarters where the ever-growing expedition had begun to spread. And as far as they could tell from their brief skim of it the fifth wing was made of larger more permanent residence, apartments with kitchens, lounges and numerous bedrooms. Quarters that seemed to be designed for...families.

She shakes her head again realising John is watching her, "you'd better not be thinking about work." He warns her.

Elizabeth can't help but laugh, "and what are you going to do if I am?" She challenges, "Last time I checked you couldn't hack into people's minds."

John laughs as well, thinking how a couple of years ago the idea that any creature he'd have the chance of meeting would be able to get into his mind would have had him checking his blood for sign of drugs.

Now he could use up one hand counting all the ones he'd met in the last two months. "Oh, I've got my ways." He says.

Elizabeth rolls her eyes as they move their way through a large apartment containing a sofa, metallic white table and what looked like an Ancient version of a TV.

John seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he ran his fingers along the smooth alien console set deep in the wall opposite the cluster of seats. "Do you think it has Skye?" He asks.

She lets out a snort, "I'm sure you could find out," she answers, "if you could work out how to turn it on."

John's face drops as he looks down at the sea of buttons at the bottom, "oh, yeah." He draws his hands away, "maybe we'll leave it for Rodney to figure out."

"Maybe," she agrees absentmindedly voice fading as she wanders into a room off to the side; the lightning is warm in here; soft yellows and glowing purples, the peace of the little room wraps around her, sheltering her in a cocoon of security. Forgetting where she was for a moment Elizabeth closes her eyes, breathing deeply, inhaling the scent of fragrant lilac and...her mom's cooking? For a moment she was home and little again, sitting up at the table, chanting with her brothers for dinner while her dad shook his head uselessly and her mum dished up a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs.

"Elizabeth?" John's voice is soft and probing, his hand on her shoulder as gentle as the lights dancing before her eyes. "You ok?"

She looked up at his smiling eyes; unusually sober, "I'm fine." She tells him, "I was just thinking."

"About?"

"Home, my parents...my brothers."

John nods; she knows he remembers his visit to her home, "it was pretty busy with five of us to look after," she says, unsure of why she's even talking about this, why this room sparked the memories but John listens anyway. "I was the middle child, the 'rose between four thorns' dad called me." Elizabeth rolls her eyes, "Mom couldn't go back to work for years," she goes on, "but she loved looking after us all anyway, though she got sick of all the drives to basketball practice. She was thrilled when I picked up ballet."

John shook his head, another grin spreading across his face, "I still can't imagine you doing ballet," he muttered.

The corners of Elizabeth's lips curved up, "not a lot of people can," she agreed, "I quit when I got to high school and joined the debating team."

"Now that I can imagine."

"Yeah," she runs her fingers through her hair, "dad was pleased with that one. He was a renowned lawyer and was ever so proud of his daughter for following in his footsteps..." She trailed off, staring into the distance, her eyes blurring, fingers entwined. She really had to get a grip on herself; she didn't want to imagine how awkward John must be feeling right now.

"Bet he'd be proud of you now," John whispered, she revolved slowly to face him; he didn't look awkward as she'd expect the defensive and secretive John Sheppard to be in this kind of conversation, he looked a little... wistful?

Somehow the peace of little room or perhaps the unusually soft expression John was wearing that clearly told her the usual barriers were coming down but Elizabeth decided to ask questions that she'd always steered diplomatically clear of. "What about you?" She asked, "did you follow you're parents dreams?"

As clearly as a door his expression closed, face darkening as he shrugged, "hardly," he let out a bitter laugh, "I don't think my father said he was proud of me after the age of four," he ran his hand across his face, "by the time I hit the teens he recoiled in disgust the moment I came into a room." He laughed again, the sound brittle, like shattering glass; cracked and angry. Elizabeth took a hesitant step towards him; surprised at the outburst, she'd been expecting another brush off comment and quick change of subject.

"John..." She started not knowing how the sentence would end.

"You've read my file right?"

She nodded and he turned away from her, placing both hands on either side of the doorframe, leaning his head against the door, his voice muffled as he spoke to the floor. "Still find it hard to believe you have, or rather you did and still let me come of this mission." He pauses, his breath ragged and then started speaking again, the words coming out in torrents now. "Well it may not have mentioned it but I walked out of home at eighteen; I got so sick of it, got so fed up of the crap I was getting fed." He lets out a hollow chuckle and Elizabeth can see his hand balling into a fist. "My family wasn't anything like yours, all love and acceptance," the voice was angry now and she was almost glad he wasn't showing his face, "Dave – my brother – became no more than a tool for my dad; a prop for him to hold up to me as an example of everything I wasn't, an outline of all my failures." His other hands curled up as well, knuckles white, silence fell over them, heavy and suffocating. Elizabeth swallows, compassion mingling with sympathy.

"What about your mom?" She asks at last.

John doesn't reply for a long moment, but she sees his muscles relaxing and his fist loosening, "she was the opposite," he said at last, his tone a mere breath but she can still detect the tone of awe and caressing affection rarely heard, "she never hesitated to support me, or tell me how amazing I was." His head drops, "even when I wasn't."

Elizabeth moves forward again, meaning to assure him that he is and always will be but something in her throat chokes her and she has to force it down. "What happened?" She says instead, because its obvious this story doesn't have a happy ending.

John pushes away from the wall, facing her again "she died." Hard and harsh. "When I was fifteen. Cancer."

"I'm so sorry."

He shrugs with feigned nonchalance, "It was a long time ago. We'd been waiting for to come for years," his mouth pulls up in ugly grimace, "when it happened Dad and Dave didn't even react; just started making the funeral arrangements, where it should happen, what colour coffin the body should be placed in. Like mom would even care." He spat the last word out in repulsion, "I didn't react either; least not in public; she was the only one I'd ever showed emotion around anyway. I took my cue from them and didn't say anything, just tried to keep my mouth shut."

A shadow of a smile creeps across his face, "I never thought I'd say that again," Elizabeth forces a laugh while he goes on, determined to finish the story now he's begun, "but dad caught me sneaking downstairs with red eyes one morning and sat me down to have a nice 'chat' about how we had to move on and never show weakness and I should stop acting so sulky and immature."

She can barely restrain a gasp and he shakes his head disbelievingly, "it was like it was some teenage drama rather than my birth mothers death. It ended in a shouting match and I was gone three years later. The end." There's no feeling in the two syllables, he snorts, "but hey, at least the advice came in useful."

He can't meet her gaze; Elizabeth knows he doesn't want her to read the shame written there, she lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, "John." Her grip tightens not in anger but comfort, "you're not a failure. You're not weak. No matter what happened."

He doesn't respond but after a second he squeezes her arms and offers her a small grin, she returns in kind. "You remind me of her you know," he says softly.

Elizabeth feels her eyes open wider, "your mom?"

"Yeah."

"How so?" There's a smile in her voice.

He shrugs, "you just do."

He probably expects her to push it more but she just nods in acceptance and after a moment John pulls away, arms folded, a faintly embarrassed expression on his face. She lets her eyes twinkle teasingly, "its something about this room," he excuses himself, "it messes you up."

Elizabeth glances around the room at the low beds, hanging mobiles and inhales the still lingering fragrance. "This must have been the children's room," she muses, "the nursery." She traces her fingers along the usual Atlantis style carvings along the headboard.

"Weird to imagine," John sweeps his gaze up and down, "who'd raise kids here?"

"Atlantis wasn't always a war zone you know," she reminds him, "it was meant to be peaceful."

"Yeah," he waves his hand in front of the chimes, the door sweeps open smoothly, "shall we move on?"

She smiles up and him and heads to the door, "why not?"

X-X

"Are you insane!" Elizabeth splutters some lemonade everywhere and swats him with her hand, John ducks out of the way though not quite quickly enough.

"I think I must be," he says, rubbing his shoulder, "to have said that in front of you. Where did you get such a brutal back hand?"

She laughs, tossing her head back; hair streaming down her shoulders like falling autumn leaves. The sun catches in her eyes making them sparkle even more than usual, their green intensifying. All the tension from the morning is gone though he blushes to remember what took place.

It was the rooms fault, he's sure of it, how the hell was he meant to react with that sickly scent of his mom's perfume not smelt in twenty years clouding his head?

Elizabeth catches his eye and he grins back; he'd been telling the truth when he said she'd reminded him of his mom; they both had the same iron will, the deep compassion, the sense of responsibility, the inner strength, hell even the same sense of humour carefully cloaked with gentle dignity...but most important of all (for him at least) that gift of having faith in others, to believe in them when they didn't believe in themselves.

He realises she's still watching him and flashes a small grin, "bet you're glad you came now," he teases. They're sitting on the edge of one of the west piers, the smooth ocean spread out before them, sparkling off the bright sun you can squint as long and hard as you liked but no rugged outline mars the flawless horizon. Atlantis is an island of tranquillity.

A light breeze sweeps past them; pleasantly cool against his tanned skin. John lays back on the ground, closing his eyes and sighing in contentment, the blanket soft beneath his back, the remains of the picnic spread out around them. He can't help but feel satisfied at the look on Elizabeth's face when he produced their lunch from his heavy backpack. Grapes, chips, sandwiches (ham for her, turkey for him), oranges, biscuits, lemonade (they are still on duty after all) and the final touch of glory; two pieces of (slightly squashed admittedly) chocolate cake freshly stolen from the mess hall. John had become wary of her craving for sugar.

Suddenly John feels a slight dripping on his face stickiness running into his nose and mouth. Eyes springing open, he snaps up to meet Elizabeth's innocent face and mischievous eyes, guiltily holding her almost empty cup. "I didn't think it was polite to fall asleep on a guest." She explains.

His gaze narrows in retaliation, "you really shouldn't have done that," he warns,

Her eyebrow lifts "and why not?"

Quick as lightning John plunges his hand into the rucksack pulling out the old bottle of water, the smile slides off Elizabeth's face just as fast. "You wouldn't."

He smirks, "wouldn't I?"

The next second the whole of Atlantis hears a piercing scream echoing around Atlantis's spires as Colonel John Sheppard squirted Doctor Elizabeth Weir with a blast of icy cold water.

Elizabeth ducks and rolls over, scooting over to the cover of the buildings, hair drenched, she shakes it out droplets flying everywhere. "That," she yells from her haven, "was a very stupid thing to do Colonel!"

He approaches, bottle aloof, "oh yeah?" He challenges.

"Yeah," she agrees, "because I have a weapon of my own." He gapes as she brandishes another bottle from behind her back and tries to leap away but not before she tips almost the entire contents over his head.

Within seconds the two leaders of Atlantis are chasing each other around the balcony, squirting water at each other mercilessly and barely able to restrain the uncontrollable laughter.

At last John collapses on the ground, "ok," he gasps from his knees, one hand feebly raised, "I give up, I surrender, you win!"

Elizabeth lets out another peal of giggles and sinks down beside him, "I'll show mercy...this time."

"You're very kind," he throws his arms over his eyes, shading them from the sun. "Where'd you learn to fight so well?"

"I just told you I had four brothers right?"

"Ah." That explains that. They rest in silence for a moment before Elizabeth gasps and leaps to her feet.

"What time is it!"

John groans, too lazy to look at his watch. "Early. Why?" He hears the sounds of bags beings zipped up and opens his eyes, "what are you doing?"

"I need to get back."

"Elizabeth." He sits up now, "oh no you don't."

"John, I have to get back to work, its hours later than I planned." She sends him a disapproving look as if this is his fault. He supposes that technically it is.

"I don't care what time it is," he says, "you promised me you'd have a day off and that's what you're going to have."

She's not listening as usual, just staring down at her sopping wet clothes, "oh no."

"Elizabeth!"

"I can't go up there like this," she complains, "I'm meant to be their commander, dammit John I'm meant to be dignified!"

"Well you're not," he replies seeing a ray of light in his otherwise failing argument, "so you may as well stay right here seeing as you're going to need my help to get yourself smuggled in without anyone seeing you."

She puts her hands on her hips and stares him down, eyes flashing and John instinctively braces himself for the stinging, smart-arse comment that he knows is coming his way. However to his surprise she closes her mouth and flops down beside him. "Fine, you win this one." Her grumpy expression contrasts with her gracious statement.

John nods and lies back again, grinning "good, then lie back, relax and sunbathe."

"I hate sunbathing."

He frowns in confusion, "really?" he says surprised, "I thought all women loved it?"

"*Most*women do John," she corrects him with the air of a weary school teacher, "but I don't."

"Right. Well entertain yourself then."

She sighs melodramatically and crosses her legs, leaning back against the wall; head tilted back, eyes closed. They snap open again a moment later as she feels his gaze resting on her. "What?"

John shakes his head, "nothing, it's just weird...seeing you relax." She sends him an icy glare, "but good!" He assures her quickly, "it's good. In fact..." His smirk widens as a thought occurs to him, "I'm going to make sure it happens again."

She cocks her head on one side, a curious look on her face, "you will?"

"Yep," He clasps his hands behind his head, "from now on the first day of every month I am going to force you to take off and get you to relax."

He paused, silence falling for a long moment. Elizabeth twines her fingers together looking thoughtful, John waits. "Okay," she says at last, rolling her eyes, "one day. Once a month. Surprise me."

The corners of his mouth pulls up, "you're on."

"That's it." She adds sternly, "one day a month. Don't get anymore ideas."

"I've got you," he promises, "one day." He closes his eyes again and can distinctively here Elizabeth mutter something about what a pushover she must be, John laughs softly; he can't wait to see what next month will bring.