a/n: Very minor spoilers for Echoes, so general season 3.

Elizabeth wakes up slowly, drifting to the surface to find everything sore.

She feels limp and heavy, like every muscle in her body is twice its weight, pulling her down into the thin hospital mattress. It's a dull ache, more like fatigue than actual injury. That's probably a good thing.

Her eyes flicker open and it's exactly the scene she expects: the infirmary in Atlantis, Carson's beloved machinery beeping steadily, and John, of course, sitting beside her, hands folded in his lap.

"Hey." His voice is hesitant, but the relief in his face is unmistakable. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted." Sore. Drained. And completely confused. "What happened?"

"What do you remember?"

"Uh - we were -" she screws her eyes shut, trying to capture it - "on M5S-377. I remember talking to the consul. What was his name? Davor?"

"Davlor. Yeah." He licks his lips, and as distracting as it is, she has the strangest feeling that he's hiding something. "Well, it was an accident. Kind of."

"An accident?"

"We were eating dinner with them, in the consular palace. Davlor's daughter - she was four or five, and apparently, she thought it would be funny to see one of her dad's new guests get sick. So she put some kind of chemical in your food."

"I was poisoned? By a child?"

John lets out a short laugh. "Well - yeah. But for one thing, she's a kid, so she didn't understand exactly how strong it was. That, plus it being a completely new chemical to your bloodstream - the consul had one of their doctors come look at you before we brought you back, and even he said the chemical doesn't affect them nearly as strongly."

Elizabeth scrubs her hands over her face. "I can't believe it. All these times we've visited other civilizations. I've never gotten knocked out like that."

"Yeah, well, you never met a tiny little five-year-old sociopath with too much access to her own world's botany. What can you do?"

She smiles, but it's grudging. There's something he's not saying. He's not meeting her eyes as clearly as usual, and it may be a little thing, but this is John. They can have an entire conversation across a room with just a blink and a glance and a nod.

He should be meeting her eyes, because it seems like everything's fine.

"Yeah, well, you never met a tiny little five-year-old sociopath with too much access to her own world's botany. What can you do?"

That gets a small smile from her, and John feels himself start to relax. She doesn't seem to remember anything, and Carson's already said she's going to be fine, that the compound is washing out of her system and she's nearly back to full strength.

Even with the doctor's assurances and the steady chirp of the heart monitor, he's relieved to see her awake and aware. He's been on edge ever since the moment she collapsed yesterday, nearly hitting the ground before he managed to catch her. It reminded him far too much of the last time she did that, when he saw blood streaming from her ears as he laid her down in the infirmary.

He really wishes she'd quit scaring him like that. Elizabeth Weir is ruining his blood pressure.

"The good news is, Davlor was so mortified by the whole situation that he offered to throw in a whole bunch more of that red fruit they grow, just to make up for it."

"I liked that fruit."

"Yeah, it was good." Not too sweet, just tart enough to make his mouth water. "And on the bright side, I'm guessing she'll be grounded for at least a week. Maybe even two."

She shoots him the look that says I'm trying to pretend I don't think you're funny, and it's so familiar, so unintentionally affectionate, that he takes in a breath.

He needs to leave.

"I should go - I have a meeting with the security team. I, uh - I'm glad you're doing better."

He can see the confusion in her eyes, but she nods. "Right. Thank you, John."

He makes a semi-graceful exit, shoving his hands in his pockets.

He never, ever wants to go back to M5S-377.