"Have I mentioned recently how much I love the Daedalus supply runs?" John asked McKay the following night as the two of them, Ronon, and Teyla lounged around in one of Atlantis' recreation rooms. Besides food, ammunitions, clothing, and scientific gear, the ship had also been bringing personal requests to the Pegasus Galaxy, such as books, videos, or particular food items.
Rodney took a bite out of the candy bar he was holding; he had received a large stash the last time the Daedalus had been in orbit. "Is that just because they keep indulging your obsession with barbaric sporting events?"
John turned to the scientist. "Barbaric? Hockey involves slamming people as hard as you possibly can into walls, and FOOTBALL is barbaric?"
Rodney took another bite. "Yes."
"I still do not believe that you have explained the logistics of 'hockey'," Teyla pointed out.
"Don't get him started," Ronon told her, taking the bowl of popcorn that she was holding. "I made that mistake already."
"You're hilarious," Rodney sarcastically told the ex-runner. "I think that if we're all forced to watch your little cache of favorite games, it's only fair that other sports be introduced as well."
"Name one truly interesting hockey game," John told him. Rodney rolled his eyes.
"Three words: Miracle. On. Ice. And that was even Americans playing. Besides, like every game you've shown has been so horribly exciting."
"I would not mind learning more about BOTH of your cultures," Teyla interjected, trying to be a mediator. Rodney smiled smugly at Sheppard.
"We could make a big event out of it," he suggested. "There are far more sports in the world than hockey and American football."
"American football?" Ronon asked. "Is there some other kind?"
John sat back with a grin on his face. "Oh, here we go," he said.
"Yes, there are," Rodney began to explain. "What the rest of the planet calls football has absolutely nothing to do with what Americans call football…"
Teyla leaned over to Ronon, taking the popcorn back. "Did you not just advise me against getting him started?" she quietly asked. He shot her a Look.
She was pinned forcefully to a wall, unable to do anything for herself except attempt to keep breathing. That was becoming more difficult by the moment with the hand around her throat. She hoped – prayed – that something would stop this in time, but then she could feel the hand shift from her neck to her chest and pain filled her entire being as her life began to slip away.
Elizabeth shot upright in bed, her heart pounding. Looking around, she was relieved to see that she was in her room and alone – she was safe. She tapped the control on the night table to turn on the lights before getting up and stepping over to her mirror. She looked exactly the same as when she'd gone to bed, no older, and no visible injuries. Other than the bruise on her neck. She studied her reflection for a long moment.
It had been nearly a month since she'd gotten the mark, and it had barely faded at all. That wasn't normal, and she knew it, but the last thing she had wanted was to have to talk to Carson about it. No one had questioned the fact that she always wore high-necked shirts; after all, they were part of the expedition uniform. Nobody knew what John had done to her, and she would've preferred to keep it that way but that may not have been an option anymore.
She looked at the clock beside her bed – 0325 Atlantis time. The days were longer on Atlantis' planet than on Earth, but three thirty in the morning was just as early there as it was back home. At that hour, unless her head spontaneously decided to fall off, she wasn't going to bother Carson. As she got a book and settled back down on her bed, she promised herself that she'd go to the infirmary in the morning.
"I didn't think you were the sort," Carson commented to Elizabeth as he looked at the mark on her neck.
"The sort for what?"
"The fight training that Teyla does. Seems like everyone in the city has been getting lessons." Elizabeth shook her head.
"That's not where that came from." Beckett studied her for a moment.
"Well, there is a remarkable resemblance between this mark and the shape of someone's hand, so would you like to tell me where it DID come from?" Elizabeth sighed.
"It was my own fault. I don't know why I thought going into his room not once but twice unguarded was a smart idea, but…I seem to have a knack for putting myself in stupid situations like that."
It only took a few moments for Carson to put the pieces together. "Colonel Sheppard did this?" he asked, incredulous.
"No. It wasn't really him. The inhibitor had worn off; it was when he escaped."
"And why the bloody hell am I just hearing about it now? This has got to be at least four weeks old! In case you were unaware, Dr. Weir, this should have healed long ago."
"I know. That's why I'm here."
Beckett sighed. "You know, the phrase 'better late than never' doesn't always apply."
Sheppard actually felt a slight surge of jealousy as he watched Ronon and Teyla fight together in one of the city's training rooms. There was a natural fluidity to their movements that he didn't think he had any hope of obtaining no matter how much he practiced.
With a thud, Teyla finally managed to bring Ronon to the floor, and they smiled at each other as she helped him up. "Lucky move," he told her.
Teyla grinned. "Would you care to see it again?"
"I know I would," John spoke up. The pair turned to see him in the doorway.
"Colonel. I am sorry if I lost track of time – "
"No, I'm early," he assured her. "I was hoping to sneak in a little last minute practicing, but apparently not." Teyla turned to Ronon and they touched foreheads before the ex-runner got his things together and started to leave.
"See you in the gate room later," he told his teammates before heading out the door. They had a mission scheduled for the afternoon.
"How have you been adjusting to returning to duty?" Teyla conversationally inquired as John stretched out.
"All right. Glad to finally be doing something with my days."
She nodded. "We are all glad to have you back."
"Thank you…Can I ask a question?"
"Of course."
"Have you noticed anything…different about Dr. Weir in the past few weeks?" Teyla frowned.
"Different how?"
"I don't know. She's always working 28-7, so that wouldn't be new, but…Have you talked with her?"
"We have discussed new trade relations, and the missions our team has partaken in."
"She seemed normal?"
"I believe so. Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure. She's been pretty…closed around me."
"Perhaps she has simply been very busy?"
"Maybe."
Teyla smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Dr. Weir was very concerned for your well-being after you were infected with the retrovirus, as were we all. You DO have a certain aptitude for getting into situations in which your life is threatened."
"Yeah, I'm trying to work on that."
"Good. Are you ready to begin?" John nodded.
Later that afternoon, Elizabeth was only halfway paying attention to Rodney as the scientist went on and on about some procedure that he and his team had developed for modifying the energy distribution so that their naquadah generators could power more areas more efficiently.
"Rodney," she finally cut him off. "I'm saying yes. Go get to work." He froze for a moment, almost as if he'd expected to have to work harder to convince her, then nodded and left the room.
Elizabeth had just started back on her reports when there was a knock on the doorframe. She swallowed her frustration before looking up at her visitor. "What can I do for you, Carson?"
He gave her a small, nervous smile. "Would you like me to shut the door?"
Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you. What did your tests find?"
"That's just the thing," he said. "I didn't find anything."
She frowned. "I'm sorry?"
"There's nothing in your results that would explain persistent bruising. Is there anything else you're not telling me, Dr. Weir?" Elizabeth shook her head. "There are a few treatments I could try, mainly just supplementing your vitamin intake. Other than that…I'm afraid I'm at a bit of a loss."
"I understand. Thank you."
TBC... (see the blue button? you know what to do!)