Sea Change
by Bil!

K+ – Romance, Angst, Humour, Episode tag – John/Elizabeth – Oneshot

Summary: Sunday episode tag. She went on a date, but not with him.

Season: Three.

Spoilers: Sunday.

Disclaimer: Atlantis and her sundry inhabitants are not mine. I don't have enough room in my backyard to keep them!

A/N: I make no excuses for the stuff that turns up in my head, I just write it down.

A couple of weeks later the damaged areas of the controltower were looking a lot better, as if no one had exploded so catastrophically in the corridors. The memories still clung, though, and no one was willing to spend a lot of time near the gym or the infirmary unless they absolutely had to. John, for one, had taken to avoiding those corridors completely even if it meant going well out of his way. It was better that way. Fewer memories.

He preferred not to think about that horrible weekend. Especially since thinking about it always came back to the fact that Carson, one of his closest friends, was gone. Dead. The IOA had been pretty annoyed about that, about the deaths of six people; not so much for the loss of life as because it had happened on Atlantis itself. Atlantis was supposed to be secure, said their memo if you read between the lines, so what kind of games were they playing to allow something like this to happen on the base? John had seen Elizabeth's face when she read that memo and he'd had to go to the gym (bypassing That Corridor) and attack a punching bag until his knuckles bled, lest he do something really stupid. Something like gating back to Earth and shooting Woolsey. He had beautiful dreams about shooting Woolsey. People were dead and those damned bureaucrats were only worried about placing blame.

Not on Atlantis. There was no blame on Atlantis; on Atlantis they were just grieving. John was just aching for yet more losses. For his failure to protect his people. Carson's loss was indubitably the worst for John; he mourned for the others, yes, but Carson had been his friend and he grieved for the loss of his optimism and gentle sarcasm, for the death of the man he'd called friend. But they were all trying to move on. Carson wouldn't want them wallowing in their grief, so John tried to focus on the fact that Teyla was well on the way to recovery, that all the injured were picking up. Carson would have been pleased about that. Carson would have wanted them to find some joy even if it was without him.

John was so tired of losing people.

If the rumour mill – subdued by the deaths but not silenced – was accurate, then on that awful 'weekend' he might have lost more than just Carson.

Carson had been dead twenty-two days before he dared bring up the other subject.

It was nearly the end of the month and the monthly reports for the IOA were due, so Elizabeth was rushed off her feet trying to process all the paperwork that people only got around to doing right before the deadline. Knowing she wouldn't have time (or wouldn't make time) to go to the messhall, John picked up some lunch and took it to her office where, as he'd suspected, she was buried in paperwork and looking harassed. Sitting on the corner of her desk as she belatedly looked up to acknowledge his presence, John handed her a packet of sandwiches.

"You're a life saver," she breathed, accepting the sandwiches with a tired smile as he balanced the water bottle on top of a stack of tablets.

John's automatic quip about her workaholic tendencies melted bitter on his tongue because it was one of those things he'd always teamed up with Carson to nag her about and Carson was no longer here.

Correctly interpreting the expression on his face, she reached out to put her hand over his where it sat on the desk. She said nothing but her eyes held sympathy, empathy, grief. John kept his hand very still under hers because he had a fear that if he tried to move, if he tried to do anything, he'd grab hold of her and never let go. Carson's loss was just a reminder of how fragile they all were and how even Atlantis wasn't safe. About how he could take nothing for granted.

"You went on a date." He hadn't meant to say that. Not now, not while she was busy, not while Carson's ghost still hovered at their shoulders. Not while he still hadn't come to terms with the idea. But the words were out now, hanging in the air.

Elizabeth pulled her hand away and stared at her computer with false concentration. "Yes."

"With someone else." Which was the closest they'd ever come to speaking about this 'thing' between them. It had all been unspoken, the knowledge that there was something there but that Atlantis came first. The knowledge that while the frat regs didn't technically apply to them their bosses would really not be happy about anything that could be construed as fraternising between the two leaders of the city. The knowledge that there were factions who would be glad of any opportunity to undermine one or the other of them. The knowledge that the unspoken would remain unspoken.

Elizabeth swallowed hard and still refused to look up. "Yes."

"Why?" It came out more plaintively than he would have preferred.

"Because I didn't care about him."

John waited, frowning down at her bent head, sure there was a logic behind that statement even if it currently escaped him.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Because I'm tired, John," she said with unwonted frankness and he could see the truth of it darkening her eyes. "Because I wanted to pretend for one day – just one day – that my life wasn't complicated, that I could actually do something most women take for granted. I wanted to pretend that I could go on a date with an attractive man who obviously liked me without feeling guilty or looking over my shoulder and wondering what the IOA would think or hoping it wouldn't cost me Atlantis. For one day, John, that's all I wanted. One afternoon to pretend I was normal, pretend I could have my job and a life. That's why I agreed to go on a date with Mike.

"I used him. I knew it wouldn't work but I had to at least try and I thought if I tried with him, with someone I didn't care about, then it wouldn't matter when it failed. It wouldn't hurt if I lost him completely when the whole thing blew up in my face as it inevitably would."

John just looked at her, trying to think of something to say to her frank admission and failing miserably. He wasn't good at this touchy-feely stuff and he really hadn't been expecting to hear from Elizabeth the sort of screwed-up reasoning he'd use himself. She didn't notice his silence, too intent on getting it all off her chest now that she'd started.

"I kissed him, you know." He hadn't, and was surprised at the surge of dislike – let's not call it jealousy, they'd never made any claims on each other – that filled his chest. "And I wanted to like it, I wanted to lose myself in it, but all I could think was that he wasn't—" She broke off, and John would dearly have liked her to finish that unguarded sentence but she collected herself and continued, "That he wasn't what I wanted and he never would be." Their eyes were locked in a steady gaze and there were admissions here he'd never thought to have made. "I felt guiltier kissing him, a man I was allowed to kiss, than I ever would have kissing..."

Me. But he didn't say it. It was almost too much just to have the knowledge of it hanging in the air between them; to say it, to make it real, would be far too much. She swallowed nervously but pressed on. "And then Carson was dead – dead, John – and here I was, agonising over trivialities that didn't even matter. One of my dearest friends was dead and I was obsessing over the fact I'd kissed a man I didn't care about? How stupid, how self-centred, how awful of me!"

"Elizabeth—"

"And even now, when I have a thousand things I should be dealing with, it's still in the back of my mind and it bothers me, John. It bothers me that I could have done that. And then I remember Carson is dead and I feel guilty."

"It's not—"

"Not what?" She looked at him. "Not my fault? Not insignificant? Because it is, John."

"Not to you."

She put her fist to her mouth in sudden thought. "No. Not to me." She lowered her hand and looked at him, and somehow he knew he'd said the right thing, even if it was by accident. He saw the sudden decision be made in her eyes. "And little things do matter, because they're what make us human. Carson knew that. But now he's dead and we could all be dead tomorrow. Life's too short, John."

She stood abruptly, eyes blazing with determination. John hastily stood too, a little awkward and not quite sure what was going on. When Elizabeth got that look in her eyes it usually meant someone was about to be pulverised into a quivering lump of goo without her so much as laying a finger on him. (Teyla could kill a guy with her bare hands but Elizabeth just used a few sharp words to make him kill himself.)

"Um?" he offered uncertainly.

She rapped a finger on the table, clearly set on a new path. "I didn't take Carson's advice when he was alive but I think I owe it to him to take it now he's..." She gulped but forced herself to finish: "Dead."

Figuring it was too soon to use 'um' again, John tried an "Okay?"

Taking a step forward so that they were toe to toe, Elizabeth met his eyes squarely. "To hell with the IOA. I'm tired of pretending."

"Elizabeth?" he asked uncertainly. He really had no idea what was going on. Well, maybe a little, but he didn't want to get his hopes up in case he was wrong.

She packed away the determination out of sight, making him relax a little, and smiled at him. "Will you go on a date with me, John?"

"I—You—What?"

A full smile flashed onto her face, the kind of smile he hadn't seen much of recently even before Carson's death, a smile that in its brilliance and rarity was more precious than any treasure chest of jewels you could name. "A simple yes or no would suffice, John."

"I'm just trying to figure out if I'm dreaming. Did you really just ask me on a date?" She nodded. "Did you mean it? I mean, you really want to go on a date with me?"

"Actually, I want to marry you and have your children, but I thought we'd start with something simple."

'Simple' had never described anything about them, but he let it pass. "Simple is good," he said, and he grinned. "It's nice to know we've got a goal, though."

"Is that a yes?"

"More like a hell yes," he said honestly, making her laugh. "But, Elizabeth... Are you sure about this? Don't get me wrong, I want this, you have no idea how bad I want this, but..."

"But will I change my mind? But what will the IOA say? But what if we mess this up?" Her smile was gentle but it crinkled the corners of her eyes and he almost forgot what he'd been saying because this was real and she was smiling at him. "Am I close?"

"All of the above plus a few others," he agreed, trying to pretend she wasn't still standing so near him.

"Mmm. Well, if we mess this up then we mess this up." She shrugged slightly. "But I don't think we will, John, we're too good at working as a team. As for the IOA, I honestly don't care what they think. I'm sick of worrying about what their reactions to my decisions will be." The smile faded from her lips but her eyes were warm and ardent. "But to the question of 'will I change my mind'? The answer, John, is Never. If you'll have me, I'm in this for the long haul."

"If—?" he said incredulously. "Are you kidding?"

She bit her lip in a vain attempt to stop her smile from growing so wide it threatened to cut off the top of her head. "In that case, are you doing anything this evening?"

"No?" he said, confused by the sudden change of subject.

"You are now," she told him.

A date. He was going on a date with Elizabeth. "Are you sure I'm not dreaming?" he asked, surprised at the uncertainty in his own voice.

She rubbed the palm of her hand along his upper arm in a simple gesture that just shouldn't have given him that much reassurance. "Yes," she said. "Because if you are that means I am too and I refuse to dream anymore."

Only the awareness that they were in her office – an office with ridiculously glass walls – kept him from closing the distance between them. "Do I get to kiss you now or does that have to wait until the date?"

"That's a good question," she said half seriously, and he knew she was teasing him but he just didn't care. "What do you usually do? You're probably more up to date with current dating etiquette than I am, especially since my last date was a complete disaster."

Definitely teasing him. He grinned. "It depends," he said, matching her tone.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? On what?"

"On who she is, how we meet, stuff like that... But when I've been wanting to kiss her for the better part of three years I think now is good."

"When you put it like that," she said, almost managing to keep her mouth prim while her eyes laughed, "I would have to agree."

John hesitated. "This is the point I generally wake up," he admitted. He wanted to kiss her so badly but there was no way he could be this lucky without things going terribly wrong.

"Not this time. I promise."

They leaned towards each other but stopped by unspoken consent just a few inches apart, staring into each other's eyes. John was more nervous now than he had been getting married, for crying out loud! What if she hated the kiss, what if this really was a dream, what if they'd just imagined the whole attraction, what if, what if...

"If we stay like this long enough," Elizabeth whispered, "do you think we could make a couple of technicians faint from nervous tension?"

He'd completely forgotten their probable audience and almost backed off, but on seeing the smile in her eyes he just chuckled. "I guess someone's gonna win a bet, huh?"

"I guess so." She smiled.

"Okay, but just so we're on the same page here, since you started this relationship it's up to you to organise – and make – the marriage proposal."

Elizabeth laughed. "It's a deal, John," she said, and kissed him.

Fin