Teyla finds him partially hidden under a puddle jumper, both legs sticking out from beneath the machine, the rest of him obscured from view.
"John," she says, quietly, leaning up against the puddle jumper.
He doesn't move. Teyla waits, listening to the silence of the jumper bay, the only sound the occasional ping of metal against metal.
She calls his name again, and when he still does not move, she walks over and pushes at his leg with the toe of her boot.
He immediately emerges, wheeling out from beneath the puddle jumper, earphones in his ears.
He pops the earphones out and gives her a smile, the grin lopsided on his face.
"Hey Teyla," he says, getting up, wiping his hands on his gray t-shirt. Stains cover the shirt as well as the jeans he wears. Officially off duty for the last three months, John's face is covered in stubble, his hair slightly longer, curling at his ears and along his neck.
He looks tired, Teyla thinks.
"I didn't know you were back in Atlantis, I thought you were still out sight seeing," John says, picking up the tools he was using and walking around back to replace them inside the jumper. His voice echoes in the quietness, against the hull of the jumper, against the vastness of the interior of the jumper bay.
"I returned several weeks ago," Teyla explains, walking around the edge of the jumper to watch John put the tools away. She knows John and Rodney have been working on the jumpers as a way to pass time, and knew she'd find him in the jumper bay when General O'Neil requested his presence.
"Kanaan and I were given the full tour of Earth. You have much on this planet," she continues.
"Yeah, and you say that as if it's a good thing," John snorts, closing the storage compartment and turning to face her.
"There are a lot of good things here on your planet," Teyla says gently.
"I guess," John shrugs. "So, what brings you to this abandoned section of the city?"
This is the question Teyla worried about as she made her way to the jumper bay. What to say to the man who has become her friend, a dear friend, someone she trusts with her life and the life of her son? She knows his reaction will be minimal, probably just a small twinge in his facial muscles, but suspects – no, she knows – the reaction will be a lot more complex, much more staggering than he will let on.
Rodney insisted he should find John and break the news, but everyone felt Teyla was better suited to the job.
But now, she is here and, unfortunately, still does not know what to say.
So, she says nothing at all. Explanation, after all, can come later.
"You are requested in the infirmary," Teyla tells him.
"What for?"
Teyla looks down at her hands grasped before her, and then back up to John. "General O'Neil has requested your presence," she says. Pauses, and then continues. "There is something you must see."
John is suspicious; she knows it as she knows the nerves that have gathered in her belly are a combination of dread and adrenaline. But he doesn't question her, trusts her, trusting that it is better for him to see whatever it is than for her to tell him.
His wipes a hand across his face, causing a streak of dirt along his cheek. "Do I have time for a shower?"
Teyla hesitates and then shakes her head. "No, I believe it would be best if you went now."
"Okay," John says, simply.
Teyla smiles. "Thank you."
They walk in silence to the transporter and once within the small space, the silence grows.
John finally turns towards Teyla, studying her.
"Is someone sick? Dying?" He asks.
"No," she answers as the door to the transporter opens to the hallway leading to the infirmary.
She feels John's confusion and feels an urge to tell him, to prepare him. But she doesn't, leading him past the main doorway to the secondary doorway that leads to the observation room. John knows where they are going, how could he not, having been there many times before, but he doesn't know the reason why.
Teyla again wonders if she should tell him. Wonders if she is being cruel.
The doors to the observatory opens and she walks in, John following her. Already in the room, standing in different formations of unease, are Rodney, Ronon, Dr. Keller, Mr. Woolsey and Colonel Carter. General O'Neil is absent.
The group turns to look at them.
"Whoa, the welcome committee," John says, a joke covering the tension in his voice.
Colonel Carter steps away from the group. She looks at Teyla who shakes her head, barely, but Sam understands, switching her gaze to John.
John looks at Carter in curiosity. "So, what's going on?"
"We received a transmission six hours ago, a transmission from the Pegasus Galaxy. It was brief, registering and then ceasing almost immediately. We weren't able to make a reconnection at the time, though we attempted to reestablish contact," she explains, standing in front of him. "Two hours ago, we received another transmission. This time the message came through," she continues.
And then pauses. Noticeably.
"It's Elizabeth," Rodney breaks in, suddenly, his voice tight.
John looks over at the scientist.
Rodney plays with the tab in his hand, fingers tapping against the side of it in a familiar agitated gesture. His face is drawn.
"What?" John asks.
Rodney nods his head towards the row of glass, that glass that allows a view into the room below.
"Elizabeth. It's her," he answers.
John hesitates and then goes to the window to look down into the room. There, sitting on the bed, is Elizabeth, or at least, someone who looks like Elizabeth. Dressed in a hospital gown, she sits on the side of the bed, legs dangling, staring off into space. Her hair is longer, falling down her back, but from his advantage point, she looks very much like the woman he used to know.
He feels something tighten in his gut, hardening against the inevitable hurt that will surely emerge from the situation.
"How do we know it's her?" He asks, not looking away from the window. His voice is calm, precise. He doesn't see Teyla flinch at it.
"Jennifer ran scans, I ran scans," Rodney says, looking down at the tab in his hand. "For all apparent purposes, that is Elizabeth Weir. Her DNA matches, her cell formation matches and…"
Rodney pauses and John looks over to him.
"And?" John asks.
Rodney looks up from his tab. "And there is not a single nanite active in her body."
John does not immediately reply.
He feels everyone's eyes on him, watching, observing, waiting to see what his reaction is or will be. It irritates him, a slash of annoyance, but he supposes it's only natural.
He wonders how many God-forsaken times he has to go through this particular scenario.
"What does she want?" He asks.
"To talk to you," Carter replies.
He does turn then, to glance at Colonel Carter and then at the others who are watching him. Rodney is the only one not looking at him, messing with something on his tab.
"She asks to speak to you before talking with anyone else, including me or a representative of the IOA," Woolsey said from where he stands in the corner.
"She came from the Pegasus Galaxy?" John asked.
Woolsey nodded. "Yes. During the last transmission, she sent through her IDC."
"And you trusted that it was her?" John asks, doubt clear in his voice.
"It was her voice, her IDC," Woolsey explained.
Rodney interrupted. "I was running a voice recognition program at the time, just out of chance. It confirmed her voice pattern as it came through."
"She was immediately placed under guard and transported to a cell," Woolsey continued. "Until we called Dr. Keller and Dr. McKay in to run tests."
Tests that confirmed the person sitting down in the room is Elizabeth, John thinks, looking again at the woman sitting below him.
"All right, well let's see what she wants," John says, turning to head out of the room.
Rodney makes to follow him, but Jennifer stops him with a hand on his arm, shaking her head slightly. Teyla sees it, just the same way she sees Ronon tense to follow but stop and Colonel Carter do the same thing. The only one who does follow is Woolsey.
Woolsey falls into step as John leaves the room and heads down the hallway.
"I can give you five minutes before I have to start recording the interview for the IOA," Woolsey says quietly, his pace matching that of the other man's.
John glances towards Woolsey. "You don't need to do that."
Woolsey frowns. "Yes, well."
They walk a few more paces in silence and then Woolsey continues. "Let's just say I have a hunch."
John shrugs. "You're the boss."
They come to the entrance of the observatory room and John finds himself wanting to hesitate.
To not go into the room.
To not push open that door, a door he has pushed open in the past only to have it slam in his face.
He still remembers everything and in remembering he cannot let go of it. To realize the woman on the other side of the door might indeed be the woman he once knew, that is something he doesn't want to allow himself to contemplate, but finds he does it anyway.
"Good luck," Woolsey said.
John nods, walking forward.
The door swooshes open and he takes a step into the room.
The door swooshes closed behind him.
Elizabeth looks up. The smile she gives him is hesitant, ensure, but when he doesn't immediately react, the smile turns into something else, something more professional, something a lot more like her diplomat face and a lot less like her personal face.
"John," she replies.
He takes a step further into the room. He is distinctly aware of the audience they have overhead.
"Woolsey will begin recording this conversation in five minutes," John replies and then wonders why he is telling her that.
But Elizabeth understands immediately, and though her body does not change positions, does not tense underneath the information, her face does, the skin at her jaw tightening.
"Un-Richard like," she murmurs to herself.
Continues, voice stronger, though quiet. "Atlantis needs to return to the Pegasus Galaxy."
"Atlantis will be going back to the Pegasus Galaxy once repairs are complete," John replies immediately.
Another flicker of a smile, this time harsh, cold.
"You know, as I know, that there has been plenty of time to repair whatever damages occurred to Atlantis, especially as the city is largely self-repairable. I have not forgotten how quickly those on Atlantis, in combination with the city, are able to repair whatever damages are sustained," Elizabeth says.
She leans forward ever so slightly. "John, the IOA has Atlantis back on Earth. All communication from the Pegasus Galaxy can be systematically cut off. Without Atlantis in the Pegasus Galaxy, without those from Earth stationed there, the information as to the location of Earth can remain hidden from the Wraith, or any other threat that might develop in the Pegasus Galaxy. Logically, to close the chapter on the Pegasus Galaxy makes sense from a military, and even civilian standpoint."
John knows what the woman before him says is true. He knows it because, though he has not wanted to admit it to himself or to anyone else, he came the same conclusion several weeks ago.
Coming to the same conclusion after being told that he should take some time off.
That he was not needed on Atlantis.
Elizabeth watches John closely. Though he holds his emotions in check she knows his face well, almost too well, and she can see the lack of sleep coloring the skin under his eyes, knows what the stubble along his jaw means.
Though he might not have admitted it to himself, she knows that on an unconscious level he understands what she is saying and agrees with it.
"But people are dying," Elizabeth continues. "The Wraith have ceased their civil war and have refocused their attention on the population. Entire planets are being wiped out and resistance is almost futile due to a lack of technological and strategic advantage."
The five minutes is almost over, the period of time in which Elizabeth can speak without fear of being recorded.
"You must come back," she says, her voice low, insistent. "Atlantis must come back."
John does not move from his position at the door, but his voice is just as insistent, just as laser sharp. "You know what you are asking? What it entails and what the end result could be?"
Elizabeth nods.
"The old Dr. Weir would not ask it," John continues. It echoes of another place and time.
He has said those words before.
Elizabeth tilts her head. The action is so familiar as to catch at John's chest and pull. Hard.
"I am not the old Dr. Weir," Elizabeth says finally.
John studies her, studies the tilt of her head, the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck. She is so familiar, her body so familiar, her voice and tone and the look in her eye. Those things, so familiar.
"Then who are you?" John asks and in his voice there is a bit of that catch. A bit of that emotion he refuses to acknowledge.
Elizabeth smiles then and in the smile there is an infinity of sadness.
"That," she says, quietly, the smile still along her lips, her eyes dark and piercing. "That I cannot answer."