Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis etc. etc. etc.

There isn't a set pair for this story, so choose who you want really. I should be updating my other story "Just a little problem" shortly, but I've been studying and this story just sorta wrote itself whilst I was at work. Please enjoy, oh and I love reviews, they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside :-)

Enough

You approach her door with some element of fear, but at the same time knowing that all you are doing is giving her something to smile about in these dark times. You play with the soft white petals of the flower that lies in your hand, nervous about what her reaction will be. What ifs spring to mind. What if she doesn't like it? What if she gets the wrong idea? Despite all that you continue walking to her door.

You have seen her door plenty of times. Walk past it, knocked on it, sometimes you just look at it, knowing that the door is the one thing keeping you apart. Again you toy with the flower. You aren't going to let this opportunity escape you, when you had seen the carpet of white on the ledge you couldn't help but smile. It reminded you of freshly fallen snow, untainted by anything.

Finally you knock at her door. For the first time it seems a mammoth job but you knock and within moments there is an answer. She looks at you and smiles, she's just come out of the shower, tendrils of hair fall around her face glittering as the light catches them. You are silent for a moment too long, your eyes drink her in a moment too long and she opens her mouth, looking concerned. Before she speaks you hold out the flower. She looks between it and you. Carefully she picks it up. Her hands are soft as they brush yours. She stares at the flower a moment longer. Suddenly, her arms around you, hugging you. You return the hug and realise that she is only wearing a robe. You flinch at the thought, but as she pulls back, her eyes lock on yours and you see them glitter with tears.

You forget the fact that you nearly broke your neck trying to get to the ledge, the jeers and wild guesses as to who the flower was for from the other members of your expedition are lost as you gaze upon her, the delight in your gift making her glow softly, as if she is an angel. Her eyes are still upon you as she finally speaks.

'Thank you.'

You know that it is enough. You reach out and stroke the petals of the starlike flower before turning and walking away.

You don't know that she leans on her door frame looking after you, her hair still wet, tendrils' falling around her face glittering as the light catches them. After you turn the corner you don't see her go back into her room clutching at the flower. You don't see the look of contentment on her face. You don't mention the gift again, so you don't know that every day she looks at them for a moment, even long after they are dead, blissfully remembering the joy that a simple flower brought.

You do know however that she loved the gift, for a moment a single ray of hope shone through for her, in a single flower, white as freshly fallen snow. Here it is too hard to care for someone knowing that you can loose them within a moment. You can not touch her, after all she is an angel, and you a mere mortal, but for a moment when you handed her the blossom of snow, you were perhaps a step closer to heaven.

And your knowledge of this is enough.