"You think this other Keller was telling the truth
Title: The Heart-Ache and Thousand Natural Shocks That Flesh Is Heir
Chapter: 1/1
Fandom: SGA
Summary: She's not the real Elizabeth, and John is not ready to accept that either. Scene addition. (J/E)
Spoilers: Up to 4x10: This Mortal Coil
Rating: M
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis and the characters belong to TPTB of the Stargate franchise.
Author's Notes: This scene is meant to go between the two pieces of dialogue between Elizabeth and John as they are walking through the forest in This Mortal Coil.
"You think this other Keller was telling the truth?"
"I don't know why she'd lie"
"It's kinda weird, that's all. I mean, I don't see you for all this time and five minutes later I find out…"
"…that I'm dead. Yeah. Don't worry, the moment I learned the truth, I knew there would be no going back. Not for me. Not for any of us."
oOoOo
Elizabeth saw John biting his lip out of the corner of her eye. She knew that he hadn't accepted the fact that though she looked liked the woman he knew, she wasn't. It was obvious, by the way he aimlessly kicked a stone into the brush he was having trouble with the concept. They walked in amicable silence until John spoke up again.
"When I saw you on the vid link, I thought…"
"I was her."
"… that she was still alive."
"I'm sorry." Elizabeth didn't know what to say.
"I promised myself I would bring her home." He stared off into the forest. "I thought for a second that there was a possibility…"
"You know, I wish I could be her if it was possible," she responded, maybe a little too bitterly. He had no idea how much she wanted that to be true.
"Sorry," John scrunched his brow, "I didn't mean to imply…"
"The thing is, I am her. I'm physically the same. I have her memories. Except… except, I'm not." Elizabeth walked off, deeper into the woods.
"You remember everything?" John quickened his steps to catch up.
"Her thoughts? Her feelings? Yeah."
She felt him study her face as he pondered that idea. She didn't look up, continuing to step through the undergrowth. They continued to walk until they came up to a dense patch of forest that slowed their travel.
"Do you remember being captured?" John asked. Elizabeth stopped to lean against a tree.
"Yes." Her voice was quiet. She stared down at her shoes, unable to meet John's gaze.
"I shouldn't have left you… her… there."
"I stayed so that you would be safe." She slowly looked up at him.
"And after? What happened?"
"I don't know. I remember being aware you had gone. Then, I was alone. I guess I panicked – and that's when they overpowered me."
"What you did, allowed us to get away."
"I hope I did the right thing," she whispered.
Her eyes were fixed on his. For as much as she was just a copy, a copy maintained by hundreds of little machines in her body, her emotions were real. John stepped closer towards her and placed his hand on the tree trunk above her head for balance.
"It took a lot of courage."
"I was scared," her eyes darted away, unable to admit it to his face.
John's hand moved down to smooth her hair away from her forehead.
"Don't," she turned her head, but he refused her signal. His fingers threaded through her hair and trailed down behind her ear.
Millions, billions, of nanites artificially maintained Elizabeth's body, and yet they chose to have her respond as if she was the real Elizabeth. Two hundred thousand nanites were responsible for her heart quickening its beats, and another three hundred thousand made her breath catch. Her thoughts, if they were indeed independent, caused Elizabeth to wonder if these desires were from her Original, or her own.
"John." She meant it to deter him, but it was empty even to her ears.
"I would have come back for you if I could."
"I know."
Her hand rose up to meet his, which had stilled on her cheek. It was contact, a human touch. How long had it been since she had been touched by someone real? How long had it been since physical contact with anyone hadn't been filled with pain and ulterior motive? Elizabeth gripped his fingers.
His eyes had sadness in them that Elizabeth didn't recognize. She searched his face for an answer, but found none. She realized that if she had been on Atlantis these last few months, maybe she would have known.
"I missed you," she heard herself say softly. She hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it slipped out.
"I've missed you too." John licked his lips uncertainly and continued quickly, "Elizabeth, I've done something… horrible."
"What do you mean?" she gripped his hand, which remained joined at their side.
"I killed someone."
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, not understanding. As a solder he had killed many; under her command it certainly wasn't uncommon. So a confession now, was a surprise.
"We were working with a Wraith. To finish his task, he needed to feed…"
"You let him die."
"No." John pressed his lips into a line. He didn't want to say it, "I coerced someone to… volunteer."
"A volunteer?" her voice was incredulous.
"He deserved it."
"No one deserves that!"
"He killed someone. He would have killed again. I gave him the chance to pay for his mistake," John rambled. His eyes were piercing into her hers with excuses and remorse. "God, Elizabeth!"
"Was there another way?"
" No. None I would have been willing to take, anyway."
"Then you made the best decision you could," she reasoned to him.
"You wouldn't have done it."
"I wasn't there…"
"But that's it, isn't it? You weren't there."
"John."
"I killed him!"
"You did what you had to," she reassured him, but he just stared back.
"I need you, Elizabeth," his expression was pained. "I miss you."
Elizabeth was held there by his eyes, not knowing how to respond to that. She was peripherally aware of six hundred thousand nanites telling her with various physiological signs how her Original would want to respond. She was also aware that her Original would never surrender to these symptoms. But she wasn't her Original.
Elizabeth brought her free hand up to John's face. It seemed to her that John craved that contact as much as she did. She didn't have to do much to draw him in closer to her. His hands moved to the tree on either side of her shoulders. She could feel the warmth of his breath brushing against her face as his face hovered close to her own. On his deep intake of breath, she felt the warmth of his skin. She had almost forgotten the scent of him – a part of home she so desperately missed.
She was so taken by the moment of closeness that she almost didn't realize he had kissed her. It was just a brief touch of their lips before separating again. Elizabeth refused to lose that contact, so she leaned up to capture him again.
She hadn't meant to be so forceful, but it was almost involuntary that she found her hand tangling in his hair pulling him down to her, and the other hand grasping his collar. If he had any reservations, he certainly wasn't complaining. His hands moved into her hair, and she let him push her against the tree all the while kissing her roughly.
Elizabeth was only vaguely aware of her surroundings. Everything seemed to pale in comparison to the sudden pleasure of contact, of being touched. Even the rough bark against her back was only made aware peripherally by occasional hard angles to her spine. Now that she'd become aware of how much she needed this, she felt like every nanite in her body surged forward for more. The softness of his hair wasn't enough; she slipped her hand under his collar to feel his skin. The touch of his lips was not enough; she kissed him deeper to taste him. His hands on her face weren't enough; she arched forward her body to feel the length of him.
She also knew that John was no stranger to reading these suggestions, and he did not disappoint. He easily unzipped her jacket and reached under the fabric to feel the shape of her body. She was left fumbling with the buckles of his vest, constantly distracted by the variety of stimulus he was providing. Elizabeth let her head fall back at the sensation of his tongue at the dip of her collarbone. Her hands grasped at his vest fiercely, unable to see or feel what she was attempting anymore.
Elizabeth barely had a moment to catch her breath when John tilted her face down with a palm on her cheek. She caught a glimpse of the wild look in his eyes, and felt his thumb against her teeth before he kissed her fully again. Pinning her with only a kiss, he quickly divested his jacket and weapon to the ground beside them and stripped her of her jacket. Elizabeth was so lost that she only became aware when she realized that she was able to slide her hands up under his shirt without resistance.
She wanted to explore every part of him, but there was so much to learn and she wanted everything at once. She loved the ripple of his ribs under her palm, the ridges of his spine at her fingertips, the spasm of his deltoids when she ran her fingernails against his skin. Her hands roamed randomly unleashing her own set of stimulus to him.
As she did this, John wasted no time removing her pants. He smiled into their kiss at her reaction when he smoothed his hands over her backside while trying to push down all her clothing in one motion. He pressed fully against her as a tease while she clumsily kicked the fabric to the side. His abs tightened when she moved her hands across his stomach, and he moaned playfully into her lips when her hand stopped and gripped his belt. He already knew that she was much too distracted by him to figure out the clasp, so his fingers tangled amongst hers and quickly unbuckled his pants.
But Elizabeth was faster than he expected. Before he had a chance to push his pants past his thighs, she had already wrapped a leg around him and yanked him towards her by his shoulders. Losing balance for a second, he threw a hand up to the tree for support and fell roughly against Elizabeth, pinning her. If she was in any discomfort, she didn't show any signs of it beyond a gasp before gripping him tighter with her fingers.
She pulled herself up against him, as if closer contact to his chest could allow her to feel his heart beating. The rise and fall of his chest from his ragged breaths rubbed against her breasts. Though they hadn't the time to tear off their shirts in their haste, the feeling of being enveloped in an embrace – in full contact with someone – was intoxicating her. Elizabeth buried her face in his collar and tried to catch her breath. It wasn't enough.
The moment he entered her, she realized that there would be only one way for this to end and for her to find that 'something' she was missing. Despite the millions and billions of nanites artificially sustaining her, there wasn't enough evidence to convince her that she didn't have an independent soul, and the existence of which could only be completed by one unquantifiable thing. Love may be a sum of physical and chemical characteristics, but the metaphysical element of her connection with this man could never be duplicated or found elsewhere.
Elizabeth also knew, by the way John desperately moved with her, there was also something he needed.
John's eyes were intensely focused on her. Nothing seemed more important to him at that moment than to help her find her release. He was also frantic in his desire to reach his climax because he knew he would be shattered, and in that there might be hope the pieces would fall back the way they should rightfully be. He stared deep into her eyes, searching for something to complete him.
By the time they were both at the edge, and he finally called out 'Elizabeth', it was unmistakable what it was.
oOoOo
Elizabeth heard the clicking sounds of John's vest buckles snapping into place behind her. It was a familiar sound. It was the sound of sending him out into the unknown. A sound she associated many times with wondering if he would return. She zipped her jacket and straightened out her clothes. Her hands hesitated when she caught John watching her comb through her hair with her fingers.
"Let's go," John said simply and implying that they should start moving before someone found them.
She nodded, and soundlessly took her place beside him on the walk again. Her nanites had developed a conditioned response, and they immediately reacted to his close proximity. She had to resist the desire to go to him again. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at him. John faced forward and walked in a steady pace along the path. She knew that he wasn't going to look up at her for a while.
Her body wasn't real, at least not in the sense that it was born flesh and blood. Her thoughts and memories were manufactured by the complex chemical machine in her head. It was the nanites that created her heart, and now three hundred thousand of those nanites were manufacturing the twisting feeling attributed to that organ.
What was real, however, was the pain. If her soul was existent, Elizabeth was convinced that it was now complete, but whatever was needed to complete John could not be found here.
A heart breaking wasn't a physical malady, and no amount of nanites could heal her this time.
She wasn't the Elizabeth he was calling for.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. - Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
- Hamlet 3/1