She thought he had gone to bed a long time ago. But as she felt him step out onto the balcony with her, she realized she wasn't terribly surprised that he was still awake. There were things weighing on his mind, and he hadn't gone too far from her since they got back.

"You're hovering," she murmured, not turning around.

He came up to stand beside her, hands in his pockets as he shrugged, staring out over the water. "Rough day."

Elizabeth nodded. "That it was." Her eyes slid over to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"John..." None of them had really talked about the things they had seen while the Replicators were probing their minds. It was a burden each would carry on their own, it seemed, and though that pained her, she also understood it.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he leaned forward against the railing, knuckles turning white as his grip tightened.

"I'm just glad to be alive," he said quietly. "And even happier that the rest of you are, too." He shook his head. "I hate when they mess with our heads."

They were running out of things to trust in this galaxy. Their eyes, their ears, their sense of time...adding their minds to that list was a terrifying thought. She still had him, though, and at the thought, she let herself study the man standing beside her.

His facade was wearing thin. She could usually see past it anyway, but the cracks in his mask were deeper now, and his smile didn't usually reach his eyes. His hands seemed to always be busy, or hidden in his pockets, and she wondered if he was trying to keep them from shaking.

He had told her once that he wasn't good at losing people. Atlantis was his home, as much as it was hers, and every time they turned around, someone or something was threatening to take it away from them. Life and death situations seemed to hit them almost every day, and Elizabeth found herself wondering just how many more close calls John could take.

Ignoring her own self-imposed rules, she reached out, resting her hand on his forearm, feeling the muscles tense beneath her. He was about as good about accepting comfort as she was, and she half-expected him to shrug her off uncomfortably. Instead, he let out a quiet sigh and let go of the railing, taking her hand in his as he turned to face her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, saying all the things their words couldn't handle. She squeezed his hand, letting him know that she was there, that she understood, that he wasn't alone in his fears.

His mouth twitched slightly, and then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to her forehead.

Elizabeth's eyes slid shut at the contact, her breath dancing across his neck before he pulled back slightly, pressing his forehead against hers. She wanted to speak, to somehow work through the jumble in her mind, but she knew it wasn't what he needed. Opening her eyes, she tugged on his hand until he followed her to a corner of the balcony, shrouding them both in darkness. It felt safer there, and as they sat down with their backs against the railing, she could feel the tension easing out of his body. They sat with their sides pressed together, knees bent against their chests. He hadn't let go of her, instead pulling her hand into his lap as he covered it in both of his.

They sat there, listening to the water below and around them, trying to let their worries go out with the tide. Every now and then, his grip on her would tighten, and Elizabeth would squeeze back, the pain of it somehow anchoring them both. The light would be there too soon, just like it always was, but tonight at least there was a reprieve.

They held on with a white-knuckled grip.