Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis…or any of the characters.
The Grudge
Lt. Colonel John Sheppard was gazing down into the ocean from his spot on the balcony. The waves brushed up against the side of the city and he seemed to feel Atlantis sigh in bliss. Everything was as it should be, everything running smoothly, and better yet, there had been no mention of wraith or Genii attacks.
He ran a hand through his hair, realizing just how close he had come to losing it – and his life. He had gotten within an arm's reach of a wraith, heck, he'd even been fed on by it, and came away with not only his life, but feeling more energetic. Whatever it was the wraith had done, he didn't feel any worse for the wear.
He sighed as he gazed back down into the ocean. Lately it seemed that Atlantis was a bit mad at him; whether it was because of his dealings with the wraith or not, he wasn't sure. The fact that he'd been having trouble opening his door in the mornings, as though Atlantis was trying to keep him locked up, was beginning to irritate him.
Self-consciously he put a hand to his chest, feeling where the wraith had fed. It still caused him to shiver, but at least when he was on the balcony he could blame it on the wind. He was still more than a little freaked out by how close he had come to dying, and it proved for some interesting nightmares.
Even if he were to be sent back to earth, or in some way given a protection shield device, such as what Rodney had encountered a year or so ago, he doubted he'd ever be able to live in peace. Dreams were the psychological half of the war. It was the realistic stuff, like being held captive, or going into battle, that proved to be strenuous.
But what was really on his mind, was what the wraith had said to him. You are more like the wraith than you think. And yet, if he had been asked to recount the adventure, he would have said that he hated the wraith, but he was beginning to doubt that. It seemed the Genii were more of a threat of late than the wraith.
His hand curled into a fist, and he leaned forward, over the balcony.
"John?" The light voice nearly caused him to lose his hold, which would have been a tragic fall into the water, had not a steady hand pressed against his arm.
He looked up and into the eyes of Elizabeth Weir, simultaneously feigning a relaxed pose. She didn't need to see that he was stressed out.
"I'm good," he muttered, before looking back down at the waves. He knew she was eyeing him critically, but it didn't matter. At least it wasn't the same feeling as when a wraith eyed you, looking for a spot to feed. He quelled a shiver, barely.
Elizabeth's voice was soft, gentle. "You've been awfully quiet recently. Anything you want to talk about?"
The breeze came, and John inhaled the salty air, taking a moment to search his thoughts.
His voice was gruff, quiet, when he replied: "I saw my whole life flash before my eyes when that thing…wraith, fed on me." He flinched when a gentle hand touched his shoulder. "He spoke to me, Elizabeth, as though I were…" he was at a loss for words. How did you tell someone that you felt a kind of acceptance towards an enemy hated and feared by everyone.
"As though you were another wraith?" He met her eyes in surprise, but they had flickered away. "There are times when you must make a decision, John, and only you can do it. I'm not saying that what you felt wasn't true – after all, you were in a very dangerous predicament."
John broke in. "I'm not a wraith, Elizabeth, I won't take their side. Not when it comes to us or them." He said it firmly, seeing her relax. Deep inside, however, he was beginning to wonder if he really believed it. But Carson had run a full test on him as soon as he had gotten back, and the results had come back fine. Better than fine, actually, as whatever the wraith had done to him, had also healed any previous injuries.
All bets are off. It was a promise he made to himself and to the wraith, but he knew if it ever came to that, to shoot first and ask questions later. Perhaps if there had been an opportunity to ever talk to Michael, he might have learned more about the wraith. But that chance had long since gone, especially since Michael knew that he'd been deceived and probably would never have trusted them had he still been around.
"John?" He turned to look at Elizabeth, seeing for the first time, just how weary and worn out she was.
"Elizabeth, when was the last time you slept?" He said it softly, placing his hand over hers. He searched her gaze, watching as it wavered and finally dropped to the waves below them.
"It's been a stressful month, hasn't it?" she inquired, trying to make light of the events. She even tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted attempt.
John merely gave her his half-grin, knowing a mischievous look was in his eyes. "Oh, I don't know about that…"
She turned to look at him, obviously confused by his remark.
"After all, someone might think you actually like having me around." Her smile made him proud because it was a real smile.
"And we couldn't have that, could we?" She asked, her voice carefully neutral.
The playful mood died suddenly when a note of regret entered John's tone. "I don't think Atlantis is very happy with me."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, for one thing you might have Rodney check the door to my quarters, because there is a definite pause when I need it to open." Elizabeth tried not to smile.
"Well, at least someone…is succeeding in keeping track of you." The smile was larger than her hand, and John pretended to scowl.
"Yeah well you try getting to breakfast at a decent hour when the door opens not so much as an inch at a time. Not to mention, the shower's been running a little cooler than I like it." John smirked as he noticed Elizabeth's expression of shock.
"Well maybe you should apologize to Atlantis," Elizabeth half-joked. "You probably hurt her feelings, running off like you did and getting captured."
John sighed. "It's not like I wanted that to happen."
"I know…and I was kidding about apologizing to Atlantis." Elizabeth placed a hand on John's shoulder in a farewell. "Get some sleep."
"You too," he managed to tell her, despite the irony laced behind it, as it was clear that Elizabeth hadn't gotten any more sleep than him.
He waited until he could no longer hear her footsteps, before gazing back down into the water.
"Sorry Atlantis…I didn't mean to hurt you."
He wasn't sure if it was the apology or whether Rodney had already seen to the malfunctions, but the following days resulted in prompt door openings and hot showers – just the way he liked them.
A/N: After watching Common Ground, I was kind of just needing a little bit of closure. Mostly I was wondering how John was feeling – but I fear I ended up getting carried away. Sorry if you were expecting something different…if it makes you feel any better, so was I. But I guess the muses had something different in mind. Besides, I prefer adding a small bit of humor or irony in – makes the story more enjoyable.