Ends and Means, Chapter 5
Elizabeth has to remind herself to breathe. The sight in front of her is so beautiful, it's almost painful to see. That John is the one who has brought her here brings the sting of tears to her eyes.
They are standing on a grassy knoll. Behind them is a grove of trees which could pass for the mighty oaks of Earth - their leaves stirring in the constant breeze that blows over the water. In front of them is a stretch of white sand beach that has remained untouched by man for centuries. But what takes her breath away is what sits across the water. Atlantis sits on the horizon, shining like a beacon in the bright sun. The grandeur of the city cannot fully be appreciated when you're standing on her decks.
"Surprise." John whispers in her ear.
All she can do is hold on tight to arms that are wrapped around her. She wishes she could lose herself in this feeling, in this man, forever. But she can't keep reality from creeping into this world that he has created for her. She isn't a young girl with no cares or responsibilities. There are too many people counting on her. She knows that she can easily love this man, but that will bring complications she isn't prepared for. There is too much at stake, other people to consider.
As if sensing her slip away from him, John gives her a final squeeze before releasing her and stepping back. Elizabeth turns to face him. Her smile is both beautiful and sad.
"Thank you for this."
His eyes betray his disappointment and confusion. He reaches up to cup her cheek and is rewarded when she leans into his hand.
"Just...just enjoy yourself today, okay?"
"Okay."
The smile she gives him has lost some of its brilliance from the jumper, but he'll take it. He claps his hands, grins, and runs back to get the duffel. She can only stare in amazement as he spreads a blanket out on the grass below one of the trees. He motions for her to sit as he starts to pull food out of the bag. She is surprised to see standard picnic fare: cheese, crackers, fried chicken, and what looks like potato salad.
"How did you do this?"
He hands her the cutting board, cheese, and a knife. She starts cutting slices automatically.
"McKay got the food synthesizers working properly."
"Already?"
"Your suggestion worked. I guess that Donnelly, one of the chemists, is a closet chef. And you know how McKay is about food."
McKay had come into the infirmary a few days ago bemoaning the fact that, while they had finally found the food synthesizers, he couldn't get anything edible to actually come out. Since the Atlantis team could only bring a fixed amount of food on their trip, they had brought the supplies and scientists necessary to grow their own food. But deep down, everyone was hoping to find food synthesizers similar to what the Asgard used on their vessels. Rodney's first few attempts had, disappointingly, yielded food which tasted as awful as the Asgard pellets. Weir suggested that McKay find someone who actually knew how to make food, not just eat it.
"I even have wine." Sheppard's grin is infectious as he hands her a glass and clinks their glasses together. "To McKay."
"And Donnelly."
The food is surprisingly good. They don't quite have the textures right, but the flavors are very close. During the meal, they talk a little about how they grew up. But they are mostly content to enjoy their surroundings and each other's company.
It is much later when they are lying on the blanket, their heads resting on the now mostly empty duffel, that she decides to bring up their argument in the conference room. They are both staring up at the canopy of leaves above them and she feels more comfortable not looking him in the eye.
"About what happened before I collapsed."
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have yelled."
"And I shouldn't have yelled back..."
"I sense a 'but' coming."
"But that's not what concerns me."
"Then what does?"
Elizabeth sighs and turns to face him. This isn't a conversation she can have without looking at him. He mirrors her position.
"That wasn't the first time you blew up at someone."
He shrugs the shoulder that's off the ground.
"I let my temper get ahead of me. I don't take criticism well."
"That's a pocket answer and you know it."
"What do you want from me?"
"The flare ups. The yelling. That's not you, John."
"How do you know that?"
"I'm not sure how I know. But I think I'm right."
He starts to turn away, but she puts her hand on top of the one he has resting between them on the blanket. He stops and looks into her eyes.
"Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."
"I'm a pilot."
Elizabeth waits for few seconds, but he doesn't continue.
"And..."
"I fly aircraft."
"And like to state the obvious."
He smiles a little and she hopes he's relaxed enough to tell her the truth.
"I fly – mostly alone. The biggest decision I usually had to make was how fast to take a landing."
"But as a pilot, you're responsible for the people in your aircraft."
"That's different."
"Why?"
"Because, in the end, all I have to do is fly the best I can."
"You mean that you're in total control of your fate."
"I guess that's one way of putting it."
"You're insecure of your ability to command."
"Okay...that's a way I'd rather you not put it."
She smiles and gives his hand a squeeze.
"You know you're a born leader, right?"
"Huh?"
"People follow you without even realizing that they're doing it."
"That doesn't mean I'll always make the right decisions."
"Nobody does."
"Not even you?"
"Well I did bring you on this expedition."
This is her attempt at lightening the mood and it works. They both chuckle.
"Yeah, you really screwed up there."
"It's not like you didn't warn me." She pauses for a moment. "But seriously, you have good instincts. The decisions you've made haven't been wrong so much as slightly misguided."
"You mean I've luckily managed not to screw up too much."
"That's one way of putting it."
"Is that how you see it?"
"No. I think you make decision to try and save everyone, make everyone equally happy."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"No, it doesn't. But you have to realize that it's nearly impossible to save everyone all the time. Sometimes you have to do what's best for the most people and sacrifices have to be made."
"I'm not sure I can do that."
"I'm sure. And besides, you're not alone in the cockpit anymore. I'm here, along with the other members of Atlantis, to help make hard decisions."
"You mean mostly you."
"That's my job."
"A job you take too seriously."
"Uh-oh. Is it my turn to be given some friendly advice?"
"You work too hard."
"I have a lot to do."
"Making yourself sick isn't going to help anyone."
"It's not like I could control my appendix."
"But you were hurting and didn't do anything about it."
"I was busy."
"That's not a good excuse."
John switches the position of their hands and places his on top of hers.
"Look, I'll admit that I'm insecure about making decisions if you admit that you work too hard."
Elizabeth knows he's right. She really pushed it with her appendix. It seems like a minor thing, but she could have died.
"Okay. I'm just not used to being up front. I used to work in the background, brokering deals. It's hard to have so many people relying on me."
"So I guess we're just a pair of fish out of water then."
"Birds without wings."
"Cars without wheels."
"Monkeys without arms?"
"Trees without...uh...leaves?"
They both burst out laughing. Elizabeth hasn't felt this happy and relaxed in a long time.
"Thank you again, for today."
"My pleasure."
"I'll make you a deal. You make sure I'm not working too hard."
"And you make sure I'm not making bad decisions."
"Deal?"
"Deal."
The combination of the wine, the comfortable atmosphere, and her hand wrapped protectively in John's starts to lull Elizabeth to sleep. Her eyes flutter and close.
John stays awake and watches her sleep for a while. But soon his own sleepless nights catch up and overtake him.