Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. Elizabeth fell back onto the bed and put her head into her hands. I am a terrible person. Her whole being was shaken to the core with the knowledge that she had just been manipulated into an impossible position. It was her intention that she would be the one in control, but the tables had well and truly been turned. And she still hated him. Although she was beginning to become aware of a dormant attraction that had been deep within her. Which led to an altogether more awkward question. A question she was going to avoid for the time being.

Why did it have to be him? She'd lived like a glorified nun since arriving in Atlantis, eschewing all men in pursuit of life, liberty and the pursuit of paperwork. That was what she'd been convincing herself anyway. Breaking up with Simon had been relatively easy, if she was honest, and she'd just assumed that she had risen above crushes. Well, except for...no, that was irrelevant and she was avoiding that for the time being.

Her mind was filled with the memory of a glowing Lizzie and the way she had looked at Jonathan. Did she have an inkling of what he was really like? Some women were happy to go along with being treated like dirt in the name of love, but for Elizabeth, there was no way she could ever stand for that. It couldn't be treated for granted that Lizzie operated within the same emotions as she did. If Jonathan could be so different from John, then it followed that the same could apply for Lizzie and Elizabeth.

For the second time that evening a bell made her aware that somebody was at the door. As the sound reverberated around the room she jumped and pondered ignoring her visitor. She was still the leader of her team though and she had a duty, so wearily went over to the door and saw the same visitor from her previous interruption.

'Go away.' She said.

His face dropped and realisation hit her.

'John. I'm sorry, I thought you were...' She said, weakly.

He stepped into the room and hugged her, tentatively, obviously worried about her.

'Hey. Are you okay?' He asked.

She pulled away, 'I don't know.'

Looking concerned, John stroked her cheek delicately and pulled her over to the bed and sat beside her.

'Do you want to talk about it?' He asked.

Elizabeth looked up at him and noted the discomfort in his eyes. This definitely wasn't the person for having a meaningful conversation with about the kiss she had shared with Jonathan. Beyond the fact that it would raise a few uncomfortable questions about her feelings for him, there was no way John would enjoy listening to anybody reveal their innermost emotions. And yet, he was here. Worried about her and willing to listen, despite natural reservations.

'Bad day.' She admitted.

'You have bad days all the time.' John pointed out.

'True.'

'So what's so different about today?'

'John, I know you're trying to be nice, but you don't need to do this.'

'I said I'd take care of you.' He said, simply. 'You thought I was him and you told me to 'go away'.'

'Yes. After what happened today I'm not really in the mood for passing niceties.' She said, almost honestly.

Beside her, he nodded but didn't say a word. Elizabeth was struck by a feeling of contentment and companionship. This was John Sheppard. The John Sheppard who she'd endured so many of her most exhilarating life experiences with. He smelt good, she observed as the scent of shampoo and shaving foam mingled and reached her nose.

'I want to go home.' He said.

'Me too.'

'I could rough Rodney up a little bit, get him moving.' John suggested.

Elizabeth smiled, 'Meredith would probably throw you in a cell.'

'You'd get me out right?'

'He'd probably throw me in there with you if I tried, but sure.' Elizabeth smiled.

''Liz-'

'John-' They began at the same moment.

'Go on.' John said.

Elizabeth looked at him nervously, 'I just wanted to say thanks for being here.'

John smiled at her, 'Anytime.'

'You were going to say?' Elizabeth asked.

'It can wait. Just get some sleep.'

Without another word, John stood up to leave the room.

'Don't go.' She said, in a small voice.

John returned to her side, obediently and stroked back a strand of hair to look into her eyes. The sensation was incredibly pleasant, the sort of intimacy that she had never experienced with him before and that she was deeply aware she wanted experience again. This wouldn't do though. Not now. Not when she was already confused about her feelings for Jonathan.

'I don't know what to do John. Should I tell Lizzie?' She asked.

'It would break her heart.' John said.

'I just know he's done it before and he's going to do it again.' She admitted.

'Then why haven't you already told her?' He asked.

'I don't want to be responsible. She's pregnant.' Elizabeth said weakly.

'Would you want to know?'

'Yes.'

'Then you should tell her.'

'She's not me, John. No more than Jonathan is you. Looking in, it all looks so simple, Rodney and Meredith, Carson and Carson – they're all so alike. But are they really? Maybe we're just seeing what we expect to. And whilst I would want to know, does Lizzie?' Elizabeth asked, searchingly.

'Maybe not, but it's the right thing to do.'

'You're right.'

'Of course I am. I'm like a little Jiminy Cricket.'

'Okay John, let's not forget the number of little escapades you've enjoyed yourself.' Elizabeth said pointedly.

'I wouldn't cheat on you though.' He said, awkwardly.

'And on that note, I'm going to bed. Goodnight John.' Elizabeth said.