SPOILERS: through Common Ground

NOTES: This is a gift to fififolle, in thanks for meeting my Cat and Dog McWeir Challenge with her story "Next Best Thing." She offered a wonderful collection of ideas, and I chose this one: Elizabeth contemplating the changes in Rodney as exemplified by his familiarity with a P90. That, combined with my surprise at a stray comment in McKay and Mrs. Miller that suggested Elizabeth didn't even know the basics of Rodney's family life, really got me thinking. Thank you, fififolle, for the inspiring idea and for betaing this!

DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis and all things associated with it belong to other people.

RATING: T

NOT A SOLDIER

When had it happened? When had she stopped noticing? When had she started taking it for granted?

With the single exception of herself, every academic member of every away team had been trained in the use of the military's standard 9mm handgun, which they carried for their own protection. Only a handful had learned to use a P90; only a handful had needed to. Rodney was one of them.

She could still recall the first time the arrogant Canadian had carried one of the bulky, automatic weapons through the Stargate. It had been the day they'd learned the truth behind his team's bad luck with running into Wraith offworld. They'd captured their first Wraith that day and nearly lost Teyla in the process, as the Athosian endeavored to exonerate herself and her people of the false accusations they had so readily laid at their allies' feet. Lost amidst that larger struggle had been Rodney's effort to prove himself an equal to his team, to wield the substantial weapon with confidence and purpose. According to John's report, the scientist had done just that, but she distinctly remembered his discomfort before and relief after the mission, his eagerness to be rid of the big gun.

It was no small thing, the willingness to take a life, even that of a Wraith. She, herself, refused to do so directly, but she had grown accustomed to others doing it for her, even the non military members of the expedition. When it had come time to defend the city from the Wraiths' assault, the Marines and multinational forces had not been alone in their struggle. At the time, Rodney had carried his P90 around like a security blanket, absently placing it on any convenient surface but always aware of its presence. Then the Daedalus had arrived with reinforcements and a ZPM. Needing both hands to carry the vital power source, he'd felt safe enough to set aside the reassuring weapon and place his life in the hands of others, only to nearly be killed as a result.

She'd been mad at him then, but not because he'd come so close to dying and, consequently, taking everyone else along with him. No, she'd been vexed because his attitude had made her look bad and had conveyed a lack of gratitude to their rescuers. She'd known he'd had little sleep, but even after learning he'd been functioning on nothing more than stimulants and will power, even after he'd saved the day--again--she'd never let go of her displeasure. That was when she'd started growing apart from him, when she'd stopped paying attention to his personal strife. He'd become John and Kate's problem then; she'd had larger issues to deal with.

Perhaps, with all the deaths and conflicts, she had grown desensitized. Perhaps, as life on Atlantis had become more politicized, as her control over the city had developed in tandem instead of in conflict with John's, she had lost the vision and promise that had brought them all together in the first place. The connection with Earth had allowed personnel to move back and forth more freely, making her job more impersonal and administrative than it had been before. In the beginning, she and Rodney had been equal partners in humanity's greatest adventure; awareness of his feelings had been essential and even a bit comforting. But it had become easier to treat him more like an asset than a person, to ignore all but the direst of his needs where once she would have expressed interest in his everyday life.

Now, as he discussed tactics with the Marines he was assisting in John's rescue, she was reminded that Rodney was a scientist, not a soldier. At some point, she had stopped remembering that immutable fact, stopped taking it into consideration. He would never be a Colonel Carter, calm in the face of deadly danger. He was afraid. The best he could do was let some other emotion--anger, guilt, determination--ride over the top of that fear so he might accomplish whatever desperate task was needed of him. He would always be afraid, yet somehow, she had stopped caring. But he hadn't.

His report about the destruction of the camp of converted Wraith had expressed his remorse and disgust at probably being responsible for the deaths of a hundred men. While John, Ronon and Caldwell may have had minor qualms about the tactical necessity of their decision, it had weighed on Rodney as heavily as it had Carson, if not more so. Until that point, the astrophysicist had never knowingly, willingly killed another human. In the blink of an eye, he'd become a mass murderer, but instead of offering him comfort for his personal anguish, she'd been too busy being worried about how the ISO would view the whole debacle, how it might cast doubt on her ability to govern Atlantis. Even while later discussing the situation with Woolsey, she'd known that, while she might have been capable of giving the order, she would never have been able to personally fire the weapon that had ended so many lives.

When Rodney had been shot as he'd fled a planet that had ensnared his teammates, other than an initial pang of anxiety for the whole team, she had not shown much regard for the scientist. That his wound had required enough painkillers to make him incoherent had not inspired apprehension but irritation. Yet, as soon as he was able, he'd thrown himself into devising a way to find the abducted Ronon and had correctly determined on which planet to look for him, even though he'd been unable to sit to do so. Then he'd joined the rescue mission without a second thought for his own safety or recovery.

While trapped on the replicated Atlantis, he'd openly voiced his concern when Niam had offered to show her what the Ancients had done to their unwanted creations. After she'd come out of the shared vision, it had been Rodney who had held her steady and helped her to the room they'd been given for resting. When Niam had succumbed to the violent influence of his people, Rodney had expressed his regret at being unable to come up with an instant solution that would have finally given her a significant, personal triumph in Pegasus. Later, when his manipulation of technology had ultimately proven ineffectual in her recovery from the nanites with which Niam had infected her, Rodney had cloistered himself away, as though he alone had failed her and thus become unworthy of being in her presence.

This time, it was John's life on the line, and Rodney was taking it as personally as he had Ronon's abduction. Despite the distraction and doubt he'd brought to the process of dealing with Ladon, there was no questioning his intentions. As she'd watched Rodney on the floor of the Gateroom while preparing for their first rescue attempt, she'd noticed how comfortably he bore his P90. It was as though it had become an extension of him, as familiar as any other piece of technology he manipulated. More than that, even while on the brink of armed conflict, his concern had not been for his own welfare, for he had offered her the best reassurance he could. That mission had failed, but as soon as their next chance had arrived, Rodney had been the first in line, as eager as his more martially skilled teammates.

In the midst of their hasty preparation, after a nod to a comment from Ronon, Rodney caught her eye. At that moment, his resolute expression faded, and she saw all the fear in him, all the trepidation at what they might find. John was his friend, a treasured rarity for the difficult to handle Chief of Science, and she sensed how much John's loss would devastate him. Although separated by half of the Jumper bay, it was the most personal moment she'd experienced with Rodney in years, and it caused some part of her heart to lurch. They used to share so much. She had withdrawn from him, and he had respected that. Yet, even now, he still carried with him all the feelings he'd had then, all of the uncertainty and self-doubt, all of the desire to be acknowledged, appreciated, accepted. Did she really need to deny him the things he craved just to try and keep his galactic ego in line?

The intense moment between them ended when a Marine passed him a P90. Glancing down at the weapon in his hands, Rodney absently attended to securing it to its strap. Then he looked back up and offered her a reassuring smile before making his way to the Jumper's pilot seat.

She was supposed to be a diplomat, but she'd allowed her schedule and one man's social ineptitude to justify distancing herself from him, from someone she'd once held dear. In the midst of her concern for the mission and John's life, while contemplating the ramifications of this latest encounter with the Genii, she couldn't shake the feeling this personal issue also needed her attention, that she'd been ignoring it for too long. Rodney had apparently grown used to her disregard, but perhaps it was time to reconsider her neglect of this once vital friendship.

It'd been said that true bravery is not fearlessness but the will to do what was needed even when afraid. Despite his pompous posturing, seeing Rodney bearing his P90 into potential battle seemed to exemplify that concept. Maybe it was time to affirm those aspects of the astrophysicist's personality, to give him more than the criticism and skepticism that had become the norm. As she watched the Jumper head through the 'gate, she resolved to get to know this man Rodney had become, to become reacquainted with the scientist who'd accepted the burdens of a soldier.