Title: A Day's Work
Rating: PG (K+)
Spoilers: Reference to season one finale.
Notes: Written for the 2005 swficathon. Many thanks to phrenitis for the beta and the help with the ending! For roothekittykat, who requested M&Ms, the X-Files, and the color purple. Enjoy!
Two weeks after her last trading mission and the storage bays are still filled with their new supplies. Elizabeth can't walk through without bumping into boxes and stumbling over the piles of packaged food that have yet to be sorted.
Rodney is having fits about the number of things that have yet to be unloaded, categorized, and sent to their proper location-- and truth be told, Elizabeth isn't doing so well either. She can't remember the last time she felt so tired. It seems like she's spending more and more time lately holed up in her office, trying to organize supplies and arrange duty rosters.
It's late afternoon and her stomach is starting to growl. She stares down at the list of names that she's been trying to arrange into some sort of comprehensive list for hours and sighs. It doesn't look like she's going to get any farther on her work today, not when she's so hungry and tired.
But then she hears the brisk sound of footsteps, and looks up to see John walking into her office.
He's smiling and-- she blinks, wondering if her exhaustion is causing her to hallucinate -- and in his hands is a bowl of ice cream.
"I come in peace," he announces.
Yes, that's definitely a bowl of ice cream that John's holding. Elizabeth can't remember the last time she had ice cream. Months, maybe years ago. Long before she first arrived on Atlantis. She has to admit that it is not a bad peace offering. She's definitely been handed worse.
But then she comes to her senses.
"John, where did you get that?"
She's perfectly aware that it's a silly question. If she really wanted information, she'd have to ask how he managed to break into the freezer and sneak all the way across the city with a bowl of ice cream without anyone noticing. Sure, Atlantis is a big place, but the control room down below is full of people and she's sure someone would have noticed him walking through holding a big bowl of ice cream.
John just grins back at her. "Why, the mess hall freezer, of course."
"Oh, John..." She can already envision the mess hall staff's next status report detailing the mysterious disappearance of their ice cream stores.
"It's okay, no one will care," he says, setting the bowl down in front of her. "Some of the botanists had already broken in before I got there, so it's not like I was the only one."
"That doesn't--"
"It tastes really good when you mix it with M&Ms," he says. "I gave Rodney some of my old X-Files tapes and he gave me a bag of M&Ms, so if you want some to put in your ice cream, I have more than enough."
"John--"
He tilts his head. "Don't like M&Ms?"
"They're fine. John--" She gestures vaguely at the bowl of ice cream sitting on her desk. "What's this doing here?"
"It's for you," he says cheerfully, as if she hadn't already figured it out the first dozen times he said it.
She takes a deep breath. "I know that. What I'm asking is--"
"Hey-- you need it, Elizabeth," he interrupts. "You've been working in here for hours with no break. And everyone in there--" John pointed down to the control room. "-- Saw me come in with this." He pointed at the bowl. "They think you need some, too."
"No one needs ice cream, John," she says.
"Everyone needs ice cream, Elizabeth. Especially you."
She just shakes her head, realizing that he's not going to give this one up.
"I figured you should get the first taste," he adds. "Since after all, it was your diplomatic expertise that got us ten whole containers of this stuff."
He's flattering her. But he looks so pleased with himself-- and really, this is a pretty sweet gesture-- that she doesn't have the heart to send him away. "It was a routine supply mission," she says.
And not even a particularly difficult one at that. The inhabitants of the planet had been not only been eager to trade, offering Elizabeth and her team a wide variety of useful supplies, but they also insisted upon opening up their communities for several days' shore leave for the Atlantis personnel while negotiations were being held. Indeed, that mission had been their most productive off-world expedition since... well, before the siege of the city three months ago.
"But what a supply mission it was," he says, seating himself on the chair opposite her. "No one tried to kill us. Do you know how long it's been since I went to a planet and met people who didn't try to kill me?"
"It's been a while," she admits.
John nods. "See?"
"Well..." Elizabeth looked at the bowl of ice cream that sat in front of her.
They had left the planet with many needed supplies, as well as some new additions to their food stores. In particular, one local dessert that had a striking resemblance to the ice cream served on Earth. It wasn't exactly ice cream, but it had similar ingredients and tasted almost exactly the same as the Earth dessert. It did have a softer consistency, though, that made it seem almost like pudding. Most noticeably, it was bright purple, a result of the berries that were used to flavor it.
Elizabeth herself never got a chance to try it-- she was stuck in negotiations for the better part of the week-- but reasoning that it would have a good effect on morale, she managed to trade for ten fairly large containers of the purple ice cream.
Rodney calculated that their supply ought to last the base two weeks if it was served every night for dessert, but Elizabeth knows the containers will be empty in half that time. They might be under lock and key in the mess hall, but they don't stand a chance against the combined brainpower of the scientists and the stealth tactics of the military personnel.
"How on earth did you manage to smuggle this out of the mess hall?" she wonders aloud. It's not like anyone's guarding the mess hall kitchen, but still, there are usually several people sitting around at the tables and on the chairs. And what about the botanists? She doesn't pretend to know all the gritty details about the city's personnel and how they interact with each other off-duty, but wouldn't someone have said something?
But John just smiles, and nods toward her bowl. "Hurry, your ice cream's melting."
It is melting. And looking tempting, too. She knows she really shouldn't encourage John's delinquent behavior-- though she's sure he could come up with five hundred excuses as to why getting her ice cream is very, very important and not at all in violation of regs-- but he's looking at her expectantly and hopefully and she has to admit that it really is nice of him to go into all that trouble for her, even if what he did is technically not allowed.
Well, might as well try it now that it's here, she figures-- and then mentally rolls her eyes at herself. Excuses. She picks up the spoon, and tries some of the purple dessert.
"Good?" John asks.
"Wonderful," she replies, and means it. If she didn't know any better, she could swear this is actually ice cream from Earth. It's smooth and creamy-- almost like the milkshakes she enjoyed as a child-- and she can taste berries of some sort, an almost sweet flavor of raspberries.
John grins. "I knew you'd like it," he says, leaning back in his chair with obvious satisfaction.
She tries another spoonful of the dessert. It tastes just as good as the first, if not better. Not raspberries, she decides-- blackberries? Some sort of fruit, deep and rich and biting-- she can't think of the name, and so concentrates on scooping up another spoonful of the ice cream. It really is wonderful.
John is watching her eat and because it would be rude not to-- after all, he did go all the way across the city to get her ice cream and already he's eyeing the bowl longingly-- she puts down the spoon and holds out the bowl. "Would you like some?"
He flashes her a smile. "Don't mind if I do." He takes the bowl from her and immediately scoops up a sizable chunk of ice cream. His eyes close as he tastes the concoction. "Oh, this is good." Smiling, he opens his eyes and tries some more. "Totally worth sitting in a stuffy conference room for a week."
John, being the ranking military officer, had little time for shore leave, as regs required that he was present with her during the negotiations for the supplies.
"Negotiations takes time," Elizabeth says. She watches him scoop up more ice cream, and then adds, "Patience is part of the job."
He frowns, this idea clearly unappealing. "Good thing I'm not a diplomat, then."
She briefly contemplates what life on Atlantis would be like if their places were switched and John was the civilian leader, the diplomat in charge of the city. It's a frightening thought. "Yes, thank goodness," she says.
"Hey!" He wrinkles his nose at her. "That wasn't very nice."
"I just meant that your talents could be put to use better in the military." And it's true-- for all his natural charm, John still lacks the subtle touch that is needed to govern a city with such a diverse population.
But he's been doing pretty well so far, she thinks. At least when it comes to convincing her of the merits of his wild schemes, or getting her to go along with his less than orthodox ideas. Like eating ice cream filched from the mess hall freezer. In that respect, his persuasive powers certainly seem to be up to par. So much so that sometimes she wonders if she lets him get away with too much.
John passes back the bowl. "This stuff is great."
Elizabeth takes the spoon to finish off the rest of the ice cream, and John leans back in his chair to watch her.
She smiles at him, wondering if he knows how much she appreciates this. The break from work, the seconds to just sit and breathe and enjoy his company. Sure, his methods are unorthodox to say the least, but if there's anything she's learned in her time on Atlantis, it's to appreciate the things that make them all different. Unique. John has his own style, which she doesn't always understand-- and on occasion, she disagrees with-- but it's his. Bringing her ice cream is not a big gesture, but somehow, the little things are the ones that count the most-- and really, it's the fact that he did this for her-- and her alone-- is what makes it special.
When she finishes, she sets down the spoon and smiles at him again. "Thank you, John. This was sweet of you."
John ducks his head, but she still can see the faint blush that spreads across his face. "Uh, you're welcome. Just remember that when you read this week's status report from the mess hall staff?"
She smirks. "I guess it was a mistake trying to keep the ice cream hidden away in the mess hall."
"Pretty much," he agrees. "Next time, you need a secret location. Somewhere with a freezer."
"One of the abandoned laboratories?"
"That's a good idea," he says. "Be sure to tell me where you put it, first."
She shakes her head. "You're terrible."
"I prefer to think of it as one of the privileges of rank."
Two months, and he still wouldn't let that one go. She smiles at him. "Well, Colonel, I'll consider it."
"Good," John says as he picks up the bowl from her desk. He grins, and waves the bowl. "I'll do the dishes."
"Well, thank you." Elizabeth watches as John turns to leave her office-- and then stops in his tracks as Rodney rushes into the room, almost running straight into John.
John takes a step back. "Hey, where's fire?"
"Elizabeth, I figured out the problem with..." Rodney stares at Elizabeth, then at John and the near-empty bowl in his hands, then back at Elizabeth. "Is that ice cream?"
"I..." She pauses, then replies with a shrug, "Well, it was."
She notices John trying not to laugh.
"Ice cream? Really? How'd you get it out of the freezer? Because I really wouldn't mind if-- hey, come back here!"
John had taken the opportunity to sneak out of the room and down the stairs to the control room. Rodney runs and sticks his head out her door. "Hey, no fair!"
At the bottom of the stairs, John waves, smiling cheerily, and then disappears around the corner.
"You won't get away with that!" calls Rodney, still glaring out her window. But he scratches his head, looking confused, and Elizabeth can't help herself-- she laughs, suddenly feeling lighter than she has in months.
end.