AN: I've been watching The Real World quite a lot in the past few days. To me it's an episode that always reminds me to keep fighting, and that it's okay to take a break and give in, as long as you understand you may have lost the battle, but you can still win the war. Anyway, I watched it and this sort of happened.
It's possible to see it a sequel to The Real Friend. It wasn't my intention when I started it, but it sort of shaped in a way that makes it possible, even likely. It's not necessary to read it to understand, though.
All rights for Stargate Atlantis are MGM's. I own nothing.
"Again."
The voice was emotionless, almost inhuman. She shrunk the best she could, trying to hide away from the monster in front of her. The psychiatrist didn't seem to care, not in the slightest. He simply switched the machine on again, running another electric shock through her body.
She screamed.
Why was he doing that to her? He was supposed to help her, not hurt her. He was supposed to be on her side. But ever since she was back in the hospital, all he did was to try and hurt her, over and over and over again.
"Now, Elizabeth," His voice was softer now, but it was a fake softness, one that hid traces of steel behind it. "Will you start taking your medication?"
"No," She managed, her voice choked. Even as she refused to comply, she could feel the fear running through her. It hurt so bad. She wondered how long she could keep fighting him. Every time the current ran through her, she felt she was almost willing to give up.
Elizabeth woke up screaming.
Slowly, the familiar sights and sensations sank into her mind, forcing away the remnants of the nightmare. The covers of her bed in her quarters; the sound of the waves crashing against Atlantis; the papers on her desk, where she'd left them earlier that day; the watch on her bedside table; even the pyjamas she put on before going to bed the night before.
She was in Atlantis. She was safe. It was just a nightmare.
It wasn't the first nightmare she'd had since she woke up in the infirmary four days earlier. The first night she was so exhausted she didn't even remember falling asleep; it was only when she woke up late the next morning that she realised she did. But from that night on, the nightmares didn't stop.
And every time she woke up like that, screaming, her heart beating wildly, and her body covered with cold sweat.
She sat up in her bed and reached out to her watch. It was almost four. There was no way she'd manage to fall back to sleep before she had to get up anyway. With a sigh, she got up and headed to her shower.
"Hey, I was thinking," He said as he walked into her office, barely aware of the sight in front of him, "Do you want to talk-?"
Halfway through his question, he suddenly realised what he was looking at. He froze when he did, staring at the woman in front of him.
She was sitting by her desk, but unlike usually, she didn't look up at the sound of his footsteps. In fact, she didn't move at all. She was still holding a pen, but it was clearly just an indication of what she was doing when she passed out. Her head was resting against the desk, her cheek pressed to a paper on top of it. She was completely motionless.
Pure fear shot through him as he ran towards her. In an instant he was by her side, pulling the chair back and cupping her cheeks, trying to see if he could wake her up. He was relieved to see she was still breathing, but when he gently raised her arm an inch above the table and let it fall, he noticed she has no muscle tone. Something was wrong.
His instincts kicking in, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her out of her office and towards the infirmary. With his arm supporting her back, he could feel her breathing, and relief shot through him once more. But the relief disappeared a moment later, when he walked into the infirmary and saw Carson's eyes widen in alarm.
"Elizabeth," He mumbled to her as he placed her on top of the nearest bed. Carson hurried to them, already calling two of the nurses with everything he needed. "Wake up. You have to wake up."
But his voice seemed to have no effect whatsoever. She simply lay there, on the bed, and he was horrified to see the colour slowly leaving her face. She was dying. And he couldn't do anything about it.
It was physical pain that woke John up, as he apparently dug his nails so deeply into his own flesh that he could feel tiny drops of blood escaping the wounds. With a heavy sigh, he sat up in his bed, rubbing his eyes.
Elizabeth was fine. She was. She was awake, the nanites were gone, and everything was fine. He kept repeating the words in his mind like a mantra, as if that was enough to send the nightmare away and convince him everything was fine. He knew it was – logically, he did. But it turned out his emotions weren't concerned with reality and logic.
That moment when he stepped into her office and saw her passed out against her desk was one of the worst he'd had in Atlantis. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, of course, but he had no idea what he'd do if something happened to Elizabeth. He'd faced all sorts of enemies, from humans to life-sucking aliens, but he'd never felt as horrified as he did in that moment.
Just the thought of losing Elizabeth sent shivers down his spine.
With another sigh, he got up and turned to the bathroom. He washed his face with cold water and looked up at the mirror, meeting his reflection's eyes. He looked exhausted. Not that it surprised him in any way; he barely slept since that day.
He glanced at his watch, and seeing how early it was, debated himself whether to go for a run. He won't be able to go back to sleep now; the least he could do was to try and get the nightmare out of his mind. Try and get the fears out of his mind.
He changed quickly and then walked to the door. He waved it open and was about to step out of his quarters when he realised someone was already standing there.
It took less than a millisecond for him to realise who it was.
"Elizabeth." He looked at her in surprise. "Everything okay?"
She didn't reply, and in an instant, his surprise turned into concern. Something wasn't right.
"'Lizabeth?" He murmured, taking a step closer to her. She merely looked up at him, her eyes wide.
He stared at her for another moment before pulling her into his quarters and towards the bed. Holding her hand, he could feel her shivering lightly. Fear and worry fought within him as he gently sat her down on the bed and then sat down next to her, still holding her hand. She still wouldn't say anything, but something in her eyes told him she was grateful for the physical contact.
Understanding she wasn't capable to speaking – not yet, anyway – he simply pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly.
After a while she broke down. He felt her shaking in his arms as she cried quietly, burying her face in his shoulder. Slowly, her fingers clutched his shirt, as if she was trying to make sure he was there.
"It's okay, 'lizabeth," He murmured softly into her hair. "It's okay. Everything's okay."
For long few minutes, she kept crying, holding on to him like a lifeline. He barely admitted it to himself, but the truth was he was holding on to her just as much as she was holding on to him. He still felt somewhat shaken after his nightmare. Whatever it was that caused Elizabeth to come to his quarters and cry in his arms at that time of the day, he was almost grateful to it.
Slowly, she stopped crying. Her tears turned into sobs, which eventually quieted down as she regained control of herself. Still, she didn't let go of his shirt, and so he didn't let go of her either. Instead, he kept whispering reassurances against her hair, one of his hands gently stroking her back.
"What's wrong?" He asked softly eventually, when she stopped sobbing.
She shook her head against his shoulder. "It's nothing," She whispered into his shoulder. Her voice was hoarse, no doubt because of her crying.
"It's not nothing." He fought the urge to hold her tighter. "You don't cry over nothing. Whatever it was, it hurt you. Is it someone here?" His voice hardened. She shook her head again. "What was it, then?" She shook her head a third time. "Talk to me, 'lizabeth," He whispered, his voice shaking slightly as fear threatened to take over him again.
She took a shaky breath and finally spoke. "It was just a nightmare," She whispered. He let out a long, relieved breath. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing," He repeated, raising his right hand to stroke her hair. "Believe me-" He could almost see his own nightmare in front of his eyes, "-Nightmares aren't nothing. It's okay."
Something must have been clear in his voice, because she froze in his arms as soon as he mentioned himself. Then, hesitantly, she whispered, "You too?"
He wanted to shake his head, to stay strong, to ignore the too-vivid images that haunted him for the past four nights, but instead, he just nodded, saying nothing. She let out a long breath and shifted slightly on the bed, moving closer to him. Her hands let go of his shirt and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him back.
They sat there, silently, holding on to each other, as the sun rose over Atlantis. They didn't speak; they had no need to. They both knew they were having the exact same nightmares, about the day the nanites took over her body and attempted to take over her mind.
After a while, he started talking again. It wasn't important – it was barely even coherent. It was just something to take their minds off the nightmares, to remind them both that she was still alive and back in Atlantis.
He told her about Rodney and Carson, and how they figured out the way to uncouple the nanites from her nerves. He told her about Rodney constantly cutting Carson off, and then running away with the Wraith tissue as if he was holding a prize, and she giggled quietly, the sound making him smile. He told her about trying to come up with something profound to say, and how he couldn't think of anything, and was grateful that no one else was there to hear him. He even told her that when he came to her office, he wanted to ask her if she wanted to talk to one of the teams, or better, to have lunch in one of the balconies.
As she slowly relaxed in his arms, she started talking, too. She told him about waking up at the psychiatric hospital, and about talking to Jack O'Neill. She told him about her mother and her father's watch. She told him about fighting.
"I knew you wouldn't give up," He said softly eventually. "Rodney was doubtful, but I knew they were doing something to you. But I know you, 'lizabeth." She loved it when he said her name like that, leaving out the 'E'. "I knew you wouldn't give up. I knew you'd fight them."
"Was everyone there?" She asked quietly, surprising him.
He nodded. "Most of the time," He replied. "Carson and Rodney left when Carson came up with the idea of the Wraith tissue, but other than that, I think all of us were there those five hours."
"Weird that I didn't see anyone else."
He blinked in surprise mixed with confusion. "What do you mean?"
Her voice was somewhat sheepish when she replied. "I think I saw you," She whispered in response. "There was this figure that kept appearing in front of me at night. I didn't understand what it was, but after I saw you at Stargate Command-"
"You saw me at Stargate Command?" He asked, confused.
She nodded. "That was the first time your face was clear. It must've been when you came into the quarantine zone."
"So Carson was right," He said thoughtfully. "You did hear us."
To his surprise, she shook her head. "Sometimes," She admitted, "But I only heard you. No one else."
"Really?" She nodded. Suddenly everything seemed too serious, too heavy. There was something there that he wasn't sure he was allowed to think about; an emotion he wasn't sure he was supposed to feel towards her. There was a sense it was mutual. "It's a good thing I did, then," He joked, trying to break the sudden tension.
He could hear a smile in her voice. "Good thing you did," She agreed. She took a deep breath before gently breaking up the hug. Her green eyes met his hazel ones, and he could tell she was aware of that mutual emotion too, even if she didn't say anything.
He gave her his usual lopsided grin, and he could feel the weight lifting off him when she smiled back at him. He could still see the traces of her tears, but she seemed calmer, her smile looking genuine. She looked almost peaceful.
"Thank you," She said softly, her gaze still holding his.
He nodded slightly, his eyes saying everything he could say in words. Thank you. I'm here for you. I don't know what I would've done if I lost you.
Suddenly, a ray of sunlight came into his room. Another one followed, and then another one, and soon the sun lit his entire room, silently telling them how long they've been sitting there. It was time to work.
Elizabeth let out a long breath and then slowly got up, somewhat unwilling to leave. He shot up to his feet in front of her, the need to protect her suddenly running his mind and body. Without saying anything, he pulled her to him for another hug, and she immediately hugged him back, her arms wrapping around him tightly.
After a moment that seemed too short, they both let go at the same time. "Breakfast?" John asked quietly, his eyes once again meeting hers.
She nodded. "I'll see you at the mess hall."
He grinned at her. "Don't let Rodney eat everything."
She laughed and turned to leave. He looked after her as she left his room and disappeared, sighing as the door closed behind her. He then turned to find his uniform and dress for the day.
Back in her own quarters, Elizabeth was doing the same thing. She washed her face, erasing every trace of her tears, and got ready for the new day. Once she was ready, she turned towards the mess hall, knowing she'd meet the rest of her senior staff members there.
Neither of them wasn't sure what to think when they didn't have another nightmare the following night. But when their eyes met over the table at breakfast afterwards, they both knew there was a reason for it.