When John regained consciousness he was still on the floor of Elizabeth's office, only Caldwell and Carson were hovering over his prone form and there were people standing around the control area gawking at him.

He blinked, rubbed his face and then tried to sit up, but Carson pressed a hand onto his shoulder to keep in place, "Stay where you are," he said in a soothing voice.

With the dizziness rescinded, he now felt like a complete idiot and extricated Carson's hand to sit up.

"Easy," Carson said.

"What happened?" John asked as he blinked away the fuzziness in his head.

"You collapsed," Caldwell informed him from the doorframe.

"Aye," Carson agreed.

He was still soaking wet and shivering and bought a hand up to wipe the rainwater from his hair, "I'm feeling much better," he said in an attempt to deflect their concern. He suddenly realised he still had the letter in his hand.

"Well, we'll get you to the infirmary and get you checked over just to be sure."

"I feel fine," said John. He stubbornly pushed himself to his feet and then staggered over to a chair to sit, shoving the letter deep into his pocket.

"I didn't have breakfast and I was out in the rain……." He smiled weakly and rested his head against his hand.

"You passed out Colonel," Carson admonished, "You're going to the infirmary."

"Look," John said, forcing composure into his voice "Let me go to my quarters and rest. I really don't want to go to the infirmary right now." He met Carson's eyes, but the look the Doctor was giving him, was telling him that he wasn't going to get off that easily.

"Colonel."

"Carson."

"You should go to the infirmary," Caldwell stated. He turned and waved away the personnel who were still standing around and trying to see what was going on.

"I'm fine," John repeated sullenly.

"Okay," Carson said raising his hands and sighing heavily, "Make sure you get some food in you and get some rest. I'll check on you later."

"Yeah…great," John said distractedly.

"Colonel?" Caldwell stepped forward.

John met his eyes and pulled his hand out of his pocket and away from the letter, "I'm okay." He muttered before barging past the two men and striding out of the control room.

---------------------------------

John entered his room, stripped off and went directly to the shower. He palmed it open, adjusted the water and stepped under the spray in a bid to clear his mind.

He leant against the wall; his head dropped between his spread arms, and let the water wash over him; warming him, easing aching muscles, irking out tension, and washing away the thoughts that were circling his brain and giving him a headache.

He brought his head up, opened his mouth, allowed the water to fill it and then let it dribble down his chin.

His father was dead.

"Shit," he muttered as he stood under the water.

He didn't know how to react to the news about his father. It had been unexpected. With everything that had been going on with Simon, this was the last thing that he needed.

He had always had a difficult relationship with his father, followed his footsteps into the military, and always tried to appease him; be the good son. It incidentally, had never worked, and when he had received his black mark, his father had finally disowned him.

He hadn't even known that his father was ill.

The water continued to pummel him, slicking down his torso, and spattering to the bottom of the cubicle in a rain of suds.

He sighed and leant back against the wall, the water trailing down his face, dripping off his chin, and bouncing off his toes.

He felt bone tired.

He pulled his hand into a fist and hit it back against the wall. The momentary pain giving him a welcome distraction from where his thoughts were carrying him.

"John?"

The voice made him snap his eyes open, and Elizabeth was standing outside the open cubicle. Her hair was still wet and she'd changed into jeans and a red top.

John palmed off the shower, reached for the towel that she handed him, and then stepped out. With the towel around his waist, he followed her into the bedroom and sat down on his bed with a weary sigh.

"I heard what happened?" she said wiping a drop of water off his nose.

"Yeah, I fainted," he said laughing dryly and reached up to run a hand through his hair.

He had the same messy hair his father had had when he was his age. Untameable, messy, difficult; just like the relationship he had had with his father.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked.

John reached for his pants, retrieved the rumpled letter and passed it to her with shaking fingers.

She gave him a confused look.

"Just read it," he said getting up to pull on his t-shirt and sweats.

After a few minutes of silence, Elizabeth dropped her hands into her lap, and looked up to where John was leaning on his desk and looking down at the floor.

"John, I'm so sorry."

He didn't react, merely continued to look at the apparently fascinating floor.

"At least, he went peacefully," she added in a bid to be of comfort.

John was looking utterly vulnerable, his eyes sad and downcast, his lips curved downwards into a frown.

"Are you….okay?" Elizabeth asked.

When they had once talked about family, she had learnt that he didn't get on with his father and he had never taken the conversation much beyond that. They obviously had a much more complex relationship than she could ever understand.

John sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Elizabeth couldn't tell how he was feeling. She didn't know if he would cry. If he would be angry. It surprised her sometimes, how little she knew of a man, she felt so strongly for.

"John?"

"I'm fine," he said still covering his eyes.

Elizabeth got up slowly and approached him with an edge of hesitance.

"We didn't get on," he said, his mouth twisting into an expression of anguish, "Bastard didn't even tell me he was sick."

"John," she said and finally connected with his arm. She noticed how he was shivering, despite having just come out of a scolding hot shower.

"I'm okay," he said, still covering his face.

"I don't think you are."

She pulled him into a hug and he finally dropped his hand, resting his chin on her shoulder and pulling her in tightly. She felt his body heave a sigh.

"You have to go back," Elizabeth said as she stroked his back.

"I don't need to," he said. His voice was thick with strained emotion. She heard him sniff.

"You read the letter. He died a month ago, they had him cremated and-"

"They're waiting for you to come back so they can have an official service," Elizabeth added in a softly spoken voice.

They were both silent. John still holding onto her for dear life; her just simply holding him.

"If you want, I could go with you?"

John sniffed again and she felt his body judder.

"So you can say goodbye."

"I said goodbye years ago," he said.

"John," she said and finally pulled back.

She was surprised to see that his face was streaked with silently fallen tears. She bought her thumb up to wipe them away and kissed him on the lips.

She went to pull back, but a hand to her back had him pulling her close again for amore passionate kiss, desperate, hungry, probing, and intense.

She was breathless when he pulled back.

She had never seen him upset before and she guessed that it was a testament to how close they had become. He was able to let down his defences, even if he had first tried to hide the fact that he was upset, and she found him even more loveable.

He kissed her again, moving her towards the bed, and pulling up her top to grasp at bare skin.

"John," she said, as he kissed her neck.

"John."

He continued to kiss her, breathing heavily, his wet hair tickling her neck.

"John?"

He stopped and looked into her eyes, holding her face in his hands, lips trembling, "It's okay to be upset."

He bit his bottom lip and then went to kiss her again.

"I know what you're trying to do," she said in realisation that his vain efforts to connect to her were hiding a deeper inconsolable need to feel close to someone.

He dropped his hands and sat down on the bed, putting his head in his hands.

"We'll go back," Elizabeth said sitting beside him.

"I didn't think…I'd feel like this," he muttered as he bobbed his knees.

"Hey, you've got me," Elizabeth soothed.

John leant over and rested his head on her knees. She stroked his hair and for the first time in their long professional and personal relationship, she heard John Sheppard cry.

---------------------------------------

It was around eight, when Elizabeth woke up on John's bed. He was lying beside her, his arm draped around her waist, his legs interlinked with hers.

She attempted to move, but realised she was completely entangled in his grasp.

As she prised his arm from off her stomach, he stirred, and blinked blearily, "You going?"

"No, I was going to get some food. I haven't eaten much today and as I recall, you haven't eaten anything."

"Right," he said removing his leg from its vice like grip around hers.

She got up slowly, running a hand through her hair to tame the curls, and was about to get up when John gripped her hand.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he muttered embarrassedly.

"John, there's no need to apologise."

"I don't usually…..well… I never…" he licked his lips and fought to think coherently, "I don't……." he sighed, "I don't…cry," he mumbled.

"Your father died, John." She said and gave his hand a tentative squeeze, "And, it's me you're talking to."

"Me and my dad, like I told you, we never got on….but," he sat up and crossed his legs, "…I thought we had more time. That maybe we could…salvage something," he shrugged and looked away, "I'm an idiot."

Elizabeth slapped his hand good-naturedly. "You're not an idiot."

"I shouldn't have assumed that I'd have time to…" he sighed again. He was finding it difficult to articulate exactly what he was trying to say.

"I know what you're trying to say."

"He was the last of my family."

"I know."

"Damn it!" he cursed and hooked his legs over the edge of the bed.

"If he hadn't just…slammed that damn door in my face. If he'd just let me talk to him."

He stood up and started to walk as he vented, "I thought he'd be proud of me." He said bringing his hands up and clenching them, "I saved men that day. I brought them home, alive…but all he cared about was that black mark."

He kicked one of his boots, "Just because he was a respected cold war 'hero'" he said in quotation marks, "I was supposed to be this saint. It doesn't work like that. You have to…."

"Sometimes people get locked into a decision and you see things a little differently, " Elizabeth quoted John.

He met her eyes and remembered saying those words to her after he had disobeyed one of her orders when they had been infiltrated by the nano virus.

"I looked up to him. He let me down. I let him down. Don't know why I'm so worked up about it." He stopped in the centre of the room and put his hands on his hips.

"Because he was family."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Yeah."

"So, are you going to go back?"

John rubbed his chin, momentarily distracted by day old stubble, and then answered in an even voice, "Yeah."

Elizabeth smiled, "I think you've made the right decision."

"And with me?"

"Of course." She stood up and searched for her shoes, "Sandwich? Pudding?"

"Both," John said with a cheeky grin.

Elizabeth headed for the door.

"Elizabeth?"

"Yeah John?" she said as she palmed the door open.

He met her eyes, shook his head and then chickened out, "Turkey sandwich."

She smiled, eyes creasing genuinely and headed out.

When the door had closed and John was left on his own, he said, "I love you." He chuckled, "John Sheppard, you're a coward."

A knock at the door had him jogging across the room, expecting Elizabeth, he smiled and as the door opened he said, "I love you."

"Well, that's all very well, but I only came here to see how you were doing and not for a relationship." Rodney barged into the room and sat down on the bed.

John cringed and turned slowly to face Rodney, "What do you want?"

"Carson asked me to come check on you."

"It's midnight."

"Okay, he asked me a few..long hours ago but I was busy. Hey, it's the thought that counts. So, how are you feeling?"

"Fine," John said.

"Fine," Rodney repeated, "Right, okay."

"Uh, about what I just said….."

Rodney suddenly looked awkward and he held up his hands. "Don't want to know. I'll take it as a compliment."

"I'm…uh….going to be going back to earth for a while. Got some things to take care of."

"Really?" Rodney visibly deflated, "Oh no, who's going to be leading the team? We have a diminished number as it is."

"I haven't thought about that yet," John admitted.

"Why are you going back?" Rodney asked as he absent-mindedly picked up John's copy of War and Peace and started to leaf through it.

"Like I said…some stuff."

"Like?" Rodney said motioning his hand to get John to tell all.

"My dad died," John blurted out and swallowed the painful lump in his throat. It infuriated him that he should feel so lost every time he uttered those words.

"Oh," Rodney dropped the book and his eyes went wide, "I'm…sorry."

John shrugged, "When you're numbers up."

"Yeah but," Rodney swallowed thickly, "Are you…you know…..okay?"

"I'm okay," John said, avoiding his eyes.

"Okay," Rodney said. "You know, I'm not good at comforting people so…"
John raised his eyebrows, "I know, that's fine. I don't expect a hug or anything."

"Oh, good," said Rodney standing stiffly. "Good, because you know…I'm rubbish at…" he cleared his throat, walked over to John and awkwardly patted him on the back.

John appreciated the strange sentiment.

"Now, I'm going to get to my lab." He cleared his throat again, "I'll see you later."

-------------------------------------------------------

When someone knocked again five minutes later, John was about ready to throttle somebody. He didn't know why there seemed to be a hive of activity at his room tonight. Had somebody given out party invitations without his knowledge?

He opened the door and was surprised to find Simon standing outside his door.

He shoved some painkillers into John's hands, "For your shoulder."

John looked down at them with a confused expression, "Uh, thanks."

"Look," said Simon shuffling from one foot to another, "How are you feeling?"

John rolled his eyes and said for the fifty millionth time in so many hours, "I'm fine."

"Good."

"You were just checking on me?"

"Carson."

"Ah..he sent Rodney too."

"He thought maybe he had forgotten," Simon said bobbing his head.

"Right." They stood in front of one another, neither one talking.

"My father died," John blurted out before he could stop himself.

Simon knitted his eyebrows together and his forehead creased, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry," John said with a put upon sigh, "I just….I don't know why I told you."

"Well, if there's anything I can do."

"No," John said, "I don't know why I….." he rubbed his face, "I'm tired, my brain is fried and-"

"Hey," Simon said, "Look I came to tell you that……I'm still leaving and what I said earlier on the balcony stands." He held his hand out.

John hesitantly shook it, "I have to admit I'm surprised."

"I still think Elizabeth is making a…poor…..choice, but, I've learnt a lot over the past few weeks and……as long as you don't hurt her, I wont come banging down your door."

"I won't." John smiled, "Thanks. I think."

Simon nodded, "Well, you should get some rest and I'm sorry about your father."

-----------------------------------------

Half an hour later Elizabeth returned to find John sitting up in bed and flicking through War and Peace.

"Food?" he said looking up with a grin.

Elizabeth placed a tray of various foods onto the bed and sat down, "War and Peace."

"I wasn't reading it," he said throwing to the floor with a loud thud.

"Mmm, I bet you weren't," she said.

He reached out for one sandwiches, "So, are you ready to see where I grew up?"

"Absolutely."

"I haven't been to…..dad's house in a while. He probably threw out all my old stuff and photos."

He stopped abruptly and swallowed.

"John," Elizabeth stilled his hand, "Its going to be okay."

He met her eyes, brushed away a stray curl and tucked it behind her ear and said, "I hope so."

TBC

Next chappy they're back on earth…much cuteness, angst etc will ensue.