A/N: Hope you enjoy! This is what happened behind the scenes in my own little version of SGA :)
There is some swearing and sexual situations, though nothing graphic (a more explicit version can be found at Command Dynamics). Also, there are some rather strong hints at Sam/Jack in chapters 2 and 3, in case some don't like that.
Thanks for reading! Reviews are loved of course, in fact they make may day/week/year :-D
The Return – Part III
Chapter 1: Ramifications
"There you go, John, back where you belong. "
John Sheppard stepped back to admire his handiwork. He'd done a good job of restoring his quarters to their former glory after their return from earth and the Johnny Cash poster over his bed was the final touch. A slow smile crept over his face as he breathed in the salty air coming through the window.
Home.
Yes, this was home and it was good to be back. He had to keep himself reminding of that. A few weeks ago there would have been no doubt about which galaxy he'd prefer to be in at any given moment, but today… after… now he was not so sure. Things had changed and he doubted they'd ever be the same as before.
"May I come in?" The words, spoken so fast as if they were a single one, shook him out of his reverie. He turned to the door to find McKay standing in it, holding his laptop.
"Sure. I was just cleaning up the mess the Lanteans left behind."
"You mean the Replicators."
"No, I mean the Lanteans. Last I checked, it was them who send us home."
Rodney's eyes narrowed a little and John just knew that he was debating with himself whether the argument was worth it. He bit back a smile and wondered, not for the first time, whether McKay had any idea how predictable he was. His money was on no, and he sure wasn't going to tell him.
Apparently he decided to let it go, because after a few moments he asked "So, you're glad to be back?"
John, who had turned back to his trunk to get some DVDs out, stopped dead in his tracks. Predictable huh? He had to hand it to the guy, when he managed to surprise him, he managed to surprise him. Being spot on about somebody else's feelings was usually anything but McKay's strong suit.
"Of course I'm glad to be back. What kind of question is that?" he answered and resumed his unpacking without looking at his friend.
"It's just that you seemed a little… distant at the meeting this morning."
He snorted. Distant hardly covered it. He had stood beside Elizabeth in the gateroom while she welcomed all personnel back to Atlantis and expressed her hopes that they would continue their great professional work as explorers, scientists and friends to each other and to their neighbours. He was well aware that her choice of words had been at least partly for his benefit. And while she had continued to talk about the second chance they'd been given in Pegasus, his mind had gone back three million light years and four weeks.
"What if we do go back?"
"Well I'd say the chances for that are pretty slim but if we do, I suppose we'll deal with it."
"Yeah, we're good at that, aren't we? Dealing, I mean."
"The best."
As it turned out, he wasn't nearly as good at it as he had claimed. Because right at that moment, he would have gladly handed Atlantis, hell, the whole Pegasus Galaxy over to the Wraith just to go back to that morning in Colorado Springs, where for the first time in forever, he'd been at peace with the universe.
"Sheppard?" Oh, right, McKay. "You're… um, doing it again."
Okay, he needed to come up with an excuse and fast. "Yeah, sorry. I guess the last few weeks are just catching up with me. I mean…" Now he finally dared to turn around and face him. "it's been a bit much: the gate bridge, the Lanteans, being thrown out of your home, spending six weeks chasing after the Ori with some stupid excuse for a team. Being on Earth." Having an affair with Elizabeth. "And now coming back here, after destroying the Replicators and rescuing O'Neill and Woolsey. You'd think I had the right to some emotional exhaustion, wouldn't you?"
When exactly had he become defensive? He wasn't sure but his voice had been rising steadily until at the end of his little speech, he was all but shouting at McKay. The latter looked at him, a startled expression on his face.
"Hey, hey, I'm not blaming you here, I'm just… concerned."
He gave a bitter laugh. "Oh please, who put you up to this? Teyla and Ronon?"
McKay hemmed and hawed for a moment, before he finally looked away guiltily. "They may have mentioned something…over lunch."
John just nodded. "More like threatened you with bodily harm to come and talk to me. Why didn't they come here themselves if they were so worried?"
"I suppose they thought someone who was back on Earth with you would be more… sympathetic."
"Sympathetic? Damn cowards. No offence McKay, but they wanted someone sympathetic and they sent you?"
Instantly, the expression on Rodney's face changed from slightly anxious to arrogantly defensive. "Well, offence taken, tank you!" he spat "And for your information, I wasn't their first choice!"
John chuckled. He didn't buy it for a second that Rodney was actually hurt; they knew each other to well for that. "Doc turn 'em down?"
"Apparently."
"Yeah, well I'm sure he had his reasons." He sighed and rubbed his face with his hands. For a change, none of this was McKay's fault and it wasn't fair to put him in this position. These were his issues and he would sort them out on his own. That was how he'd handled things all his life, a fact that sure as hell wasn't gonna change now – and he'd make sure Ronon and Teyla knew that. Elizabeth had already made it clear that she'd be unavailable in that respect. Which left…
"Listen, McKay, I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm fine, really… I just – need some time to sort a few things out for myself. I'll be back to being my old sparkling self in no time."
McKay examined him for a moment with a look that could have been mistaken for honest concern. Then his face contorted into a fake smile, "Well if you say so, I've, um, done my duty." He turned to go, but stopped himself at the last second. "You know, um… If you decide otherwise… about, you know, the talking thing? I'm...uh, here."
John couldn't help but smile, more than a little touched. For all his arrogant bravado, McKay was proving to be a good friend time and again. "Thanks Rodney. I do."
At this, the scientist gave him another, rather shy smile and eventually left.
John let himself fall back on the bed and groaned. He couldn't really blame his friends for being worried and protective. Hell, he'd do the same if roles were reversed. And it was true, ever since all the racket around their little "return home and save the city" mission had died down and he'd had time to actually think, mentally he was living anywhere but in the moment. Things had happened back on earth that had shaken him out of his calm to an extent where he felt positively adrift, with no fix point to hold on to anymore.
Face it Shep, he ordered himself inwardly, Elizabeth has been your fix point all along, that little hope that was always hidden in her smile. Aloud he just said "Seems like that hope is gone now."
Elizabeth sat in her office trying to get some work done, but she just couldn't concentrate. The file she had in front of her was, if not tremendously important, at least rather urgent; it stated all the items that the single departments had requisitioned to be brought on the next call in from Daedalus. In an hour, General O'Neill would step through the gate for one last visit before the Earth ZPM was brought to Antarctica and he'd be expecting to take that list with him. That's why she really should get a move on and finish that one last report before he got here.
For the umpteenth time, she tried to focus. Okay. Carson asked for a new defibrillator, along with the necessary equipment. Done - she wouldn't want that one to fail in a critical situation. A stash of sedatives, painkillers, stimulants,… Damn, hadn't she put that down already? She gave a frustrated growl and sat back in her chair.
Damn John Sheppard. Damn him to hell. Him and those stupid, beautiful green eyes of his, that smile, those gentle hands, the sense of humor, the warm loyalty… stop it Beth! she ordered herself. Why have you ever let it come this far?
Here in Atlantis, things had always been so clear between them, so structured. Elizabeth liked structure. She liked to put order to chaos, to talk reason into emotion, to put things into a palpable, straight line. And with John, that line had always been plain and clearly defined. Friends and co-workers, in that order. Flirting, teasing, yes, but never more. Always retaining a definite, respectful distance. So what if there had been sparks flying everywhere whenever they were in the same room. And what did it matter that there had been some nights when she had lain awake, trying not to imagine how easy it would be just to get up, walk over to his quarters and forget, just for a few hours, that there were things more important than them?
If it had been hard back then to resist that urge, it was downright torture now. Now that she knew what it was like not only to make love to him, but to wake up wrapped in his warmth, his scent, the feel of his body. Elizabeth closed her eyes and shivered. Something inside of her had known from the start that it was a mistake, when he had appeared on her doorstep that night. A crooked smile on his lips, a bottle of wine in one hand and a movie in the other. Disney's Atlantis, no less. His idea of a joke. She still had to smile at it. And it had been so easy to relax with him, the one person on Earth who could truly understand what she had lost. He had also turned out to be the one person to be able to make that chill go away, the one which haunted her days and nights at what was supposed to be her home.
A shiver crawled down her spine as she remembered the feeling, that awareness that she was light-years from where she was supposed to be, which had manifested itself as a chill deep down inside of her. The only times when she had been truly warm back on Earth was when she was in his arms. She remembered him mocking her about wearing socks in bed and her indignant reply.
"They're warm and fuzzy. Not much else is, these days."
"Not very romantic, though, Lizzie."
She turned to him, suddenly serious, and looked straight into his eyes. "Is this what this is about? Romance?"
He took a moment before reacting to the abrupt change of mood. But instead of denying or affirming her question, he took her face in both hands, his eyes never leaving hers, and pulled her into a soul-searing kiss. A kiss that made her forget her name, forget about Earth and Atlantis, Ancients and Wraith, war and expeditions. A kiss that lit a fire inside of her and once again, drove the chill from her bones. When they parted, his eyes were as dark and intense as she knew her own must be.
"Can you feel that?" he asked hoarsely. She nodded helplessly, her face still trapped between his palms. Yes, she could. Could feel that this was right, that this was where she belonged – although she was anything but sure that's what he meant.
"That's what this is about." he said matter-of-factly and when he pulled her towards him again, all she could do was bury her face into the crook of his neck and hope that she would never have to leave again. Ever.
"Now, about those socks…" he said after a while, slowly over-enunciating, so she had to giggle, placing a light kiss on his collarbone.
"They keep me warm!"
At that, he had just kissed the top of her head and whispered, "That's my job now."
John stood on the balcony of his quarters and looked at the blurry line where the sky met the ocean. He had just under an hour before he had to be back in the control room, where General O'Neill was expected for a final visit, before Atlantis would resume its normal operations. Finally, life would go its usual course again – as far as anything was ever usual or normal here, that was. When they had come back, things had gone so fast - commandeering the jumper, rescuing the General and Woolsey while destroying the Replicators in the process. After that, there had been endless preparations and meetings about all the hows and whens of returning, re-starting the expedition. John doubted Elizabeth got as much as a five minute break, let alone any sleep for days. So, as desperately as he wanted to, there was no way they could catch a few moments alone in that time, which was probably for the best. As it were, they were their professional bests under their superiors' noses and got the move back done in record time. It wasn't until their first night in the city that he found the opportunity to speak to her.
Had it really been only last night that he had knocked on the door of her quarters? It already seemed to be such a long time ago.Cliché of all clichés, it had been raining – rare in Atlantis' subtropical climate, but quite fitting in retrospect. He hadn't really known what he expected. Definitely not an easy and clean continuation of their… relationship, for the lack of a better word. He was no idiot; he knew that it was grief that had brought them together on earth in the first place. But the fact that they could comfort and complement each other so perfectly, the way he felt when he was with her – that had to count for something, right? He knew she felt the same, or sort of the same, she had all but admitted as much to him. Not in so many words, but he had felt it in her kiss, in her touch; he could see it in her eyes whenever they locked with his. Those eyes that had always been able to communicate so much to him silently, the ones he always searched for first when he stepped back through the gate.
The eyes that looked at him when the doors to her quarters slid open were cold and hard as emeralds and what little hope he had of this visit going well dwindled quickly. "Hey."
"Hey. I was wondering when you were going to show up."
Without any further invitation, she turned around and walked back into the room. He followed her rather hesitantly, the apprehension clear on his face. She still had her back turned to him, so he could make out merely her outline in front of the window. The rain running down the glass suddenly brought the image of the city rising back to his mind, Lizzie's face behind the wet glass. Even then he had felt that connection with her. Now he could see that she was wringing her hands nervously, as she did when faced with a difficult decision. Okay, buck up, flyboy, he told himself, there is no way around this.
"So... are we going to talk about it?"
At that she did turn to him, but he instantly wished she didn't. John Sheppard knew when he was being dumped. The last time he had seen this look on a woman's face was when his now ex-wife had handed him a stash of papers to sign. "John…"
"I'm not gonna like this, am I?"
She sighed, and the hand wringing increased to a point where he was wondering whether she was purposely inflicting pain upon herself. "John, you must have known this can't go on once we're back here."
"And you're just gonna walk away from everything, as if it never happened." It wasn't a question.
"I can't afford to do anything else. There was a reason we didn't get involved here in the first place."
He felt his heart harden. "Yeah, remind me, what was that again?"
Her gaze dropped and she actually started to enumerate. "Favouritism, undermining of both our authorities, being able to be compromised easily, distraction…"
"None of them are actually valid, you know that, right?" he burst out. "You wouldn't and couldn't favour me even if you wanted to, as I pretty much do what I want anyway. Our authorities have never been undermined by the fact that half the people here think we've been doing it from the get go and as for distraction and being compromised … hell, Lizzie, it's a bit late for that, isn't it?"
"Don't call me that." she whispered without looking at him.
"What, Lizzie? I call you Lizzie all the time!"
"No, you called the woman you were sleeping with Lizzie." Now, she finally looked up and into his eyes. "The woman who needed you so much it hurt, and for whom you were…" She bit her lip as she cut herself off. "But she is not here, John. She can't be here, it's not her place. She stayed back on Earth."
He had always thought that the term "heartbreak" was just a metaphor, but last night, right in that moment, he had felt something break and shatter within him. He didn't even remember how he had got back to his own quarters. So apparently, it had not been Dr. Elizabeth Weir that he had shared his bed with, but some stranger named Lizzie.
The irony stung. Initially, he had used the nickname on purpose, to distinguish between their Atlantis and earth personas and in that way, as he had believed, make the transition easier. But it seemed that she had taken his game a little too seriously and turned it into a way of justifying her own actions. He had to face it now: she'd used him. Used him to ease the pain, the loneliness, the grief over what they had lost, which would have been alright, had there been any personal consideration in it. This – fling – he realized, had never been about him, but about clinging to some part of Atlantis.
Maybe she had even honestly believed that that went both ways. After all he was the slut of Atlantis, wasn't he? He'd been a sport about it, but somehow he had always known that reputation (whether deserved or not) would come back and bite him in the ass one day. Kirk, that was him. Fucking his way through the Pegasus Galaxy, princess by alien princess. Why should she assume that he had feelings? And if he didn't have any feelings, he – obviously – could not be hurt. How convenient for Liz… for Dr. Weir. Cause if he didn't have any feelings and hence, couldn't be hurt, she didn't need to feel any qualms about discarding him like any old rag.
Which was exactly what she had done.
It wasn't so much the fact that she didn't think this relationship was worth pursuing. Hell, there were more than enough reasons why he wasn't good enough for her. If she needed a list, his family and ex-wife would be happy to provide her with the complete A to Z. But the fact that she could be so cold hearted about all this, that she could walk away from their time together without so much as an apparent regret… he had really believed he meant more to her than that.
John sighed and looked at his watch. Half an hour to go, he needed to get his act back together. There was no way he would let this affect his duties once operations were up and running again. There were worlds to explore, Wraith to fight – and if Dr. Elizabeth Weir chose to be his commander and nothing more, that's exactly what she would be.
Warmth. Yes, she was warm again now. The problem was, she wasn't entirely sure whether she owed that to their return or to the gentle touch, the memory of which still tingled her skin.
Jesus, Beth, get a grip on yourself! You have never before let your… infatuation with this man get the better of you and you won't start now. That had been the whole point of her little charade last night in her quarters, when he came to see her. God, the look in his eyes – somewhere between hurt and anger and something else – had made her want to hold him and make the same mistakes all over again. The trouble was, as much as she tried to explain it, she didn't think he'd believed her reasons for ending, or rather not continuing their relationship. His instincts were too strong and too wired not to detect the insincerity behind them. Still, she had yet to see him since. All she hoped was that he didn't think it was somehow his fault, by intention or character. Because after all was said and done, she couldn't imagine life in Atlantis without his steady presence by her side. As a friend and co-worker, a fellow leader. In that order.
Still, if things were different…
But they weren't and she had to keep reminding herself of that. Just like General O'Neill most definitely would if she didn't get that report done in the next – shit, twenty minutes. Her laptop beeped again and one glance at it revealed the thirteenth email from Rodney today, subject line: "ZPMs". Damn, that man was persistent. But first things first. Carson needed a new defibrillator…
TBC
