Atlantis, Day 5
"Hey!" John called out to Elizabeth from his perch on the edge of his infirmary bed that had been his headquarters for the past day looking more like a visitor than a patient. He was freshly washed and fluffed, dressed in crisp green hospital scrubs with only a bulge of bandage at his shoulder and a few strips of tape peeking out under the collar to hint at the injuries underneath.
Smiling, Elizabeth stepped close and he waggled his finger over the keyboard on the computer resting in his lap, waiting to make sure she was watching. With a dramatic flourish, he poked a single button and leaned back with a look that resembled something like triumph.
"My report," he announced, his voice equally triumphant. "Submitted within the required 48 hours of return from mission." He caught her 'amused smirk with raised eyebrow' and, pushing the computer off his lap to lounge more fully into the bed, added with just the right amount of self-deprecation, "Well, at least within 48 hours of regaining consciousness after return from mission."
She nodded happily, accepting the addendum. After John woke up that first time in the middle of the night, while she and his friends sat in vigil, they had all let him rest and recover in private for another full day and a half. Elizabeth had promised herself not to disturb John during that time, but she had badgered Carson enough to know that he had been in a good deal of pain and had done little but sleep and eat. Even now, there was a tray of mess hall food on the bedside table, and he was picking up a cold French fry to add to the gulp of water he'd just taken.
Yesterday, the pain subsiding to manageable levels, he had decided to wake up for good and moved to a more public bed, asking for his friends and enjoying the company. Elizabeth had joined them all last evening as they gathered around and badgered him about his lost time on Planet Plague, as Rodney quickly dubbed the formerly called G3C-187. Despite his easy banter and pleasure in their presence, John had somehow managed to avoid answering in very much detail, and they knew little more at the end of their visit than at the beginning: Nalia, the doctor's daughter, had given him a secret cure after the townspeople put him in jail and he broke out and made it to the gate.
Elizabeth and Teyla had exchanged perplexed and exasperated looks, but neither of them seemed willing to press. So, all in all, Elizabeth was secretly dying to read that report that he'd so smugly submitted right before her eyes.
For the moment, she settled on formalities and bad beside manner, "Thank you for your punctuality, Colonel," she teased. "When's Carson going to let you escape his prison?"
"Probably tonight, if I promise to go to my room and rest like a good boy," John smirked through another mouthful of fries. "I rearranged the duty calendar so I can get back to work tomorrow on light duty. Carson's gonna set me up with a burn bandage in two days. I'll be able to go with my team to B8C-250 next week as planned."
"If you feel up to it, fine. But there's no hurry, John. The Pegasus Galaxy can wait a few days for you to get back to discovering its secrets."
For some reason, her silly turn of phrase seemed to strike a sad chord, and John's expression sobered. "There is something I can't wait to do, Elizabeth. We have to go back and vaccinate the people on G3C-187. Carson says that those who don't develop the disease wind up as infectious carriers. That's how my team and I caught the damn plague in the first place. If we vaccinate everyone, they won't be able to pass it on to others and other worlds. I'd appreciate it if you could read my report and approve the medical mission it recommends as soon as possible."
His somber request was almost plaintive and Elizabeth responded with equal gravity, "I will, I promise. I'm sure Carson will agree to go. But really, you don't have to go back there yourself if… well, if it would bother you." She hated to insinuate that he couldn't handle his experience, but even from just what little she did know, she would hesitate to ask anyone to return under those circumstances. She was going to be damn sure they arranged extra security for whoever did go.
"It'll do more than just bother me, I'm sure," he said in a low voice, looking straight ahead, not quite hiding the admission, but not quite able to share it with her directly. Then suddenly, he met her eyes and his own were determined, "But I have to go. You'll understand why after you read the report. My team has to be the one that takes the vaccine back."
"I'll read it," she repeated, but privately, she withheld her approval on his participation until after she had.
"Thanks. And Elizabeth…" he was staring ahead again, "Thank you for waiting with me when I was unconscious." She held her breath, surprised at the rare display of emotion. He looked down at his hands and went on quietly, "I never really appreciated what it means to me to have people around who care when you're sick, and… just thanks." He finished lamely, grinning up at her, embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
"You're welcome," she grinned back. "Just send me a memo the next time you plan to sleep for three days so I won't worry so much while I wait." He chuckled, and she added more softly, "We care when you're awake, too, John."
"I know…"
A short time later, Elizabeth sat at her desk with a mouse cursor poised over John's filed report. In order to avoid being interrupted, she had sent out all her "Do Not Disturb" signals and settled into the chair feeling something between excitement and anxiety. In a way, she'd waited seven days to read this story. Seven days of wondering and worrying. And after he did return, four days of trying to fit tantalizing bits of information into the puzzle that was John Sheppard. With a deep breath, she double-clicked and began to read.
It was a very thorough document and included notes from Carson on the plague and comments about how to improve and mass-produce the vaccine. He had also appended the shorter reports from Teyla, Rodney and Ronon, which was unusual. He seemed to feel the need to include as much information as possible.
Elizabeth only skimmed these and greedily began to read John's formal mission report starting from the moment he'd sent the rest home. She was immediately captivated and the more she read, the more she got caught up in John's struggles. She was right in guessing that he would mention little of his discomforts and fears, but this time, she could fill in the simple statements of fact with her memories of his anguished dreaming mutters.
When she finished, she stared at the screen for a long, long time.
She did understand, now, why John's team needed to be the ones who returned with the vaccine: the villagers had seen them all sick with the plague. They would be the proof that there was a cure, as John had been the proof for Davka to believe.
She thought long and hard about why John was so determined to return. His quiet gratitude for the comfort of his friends seemed even more poignant in light of the neglect he'd suffered. Those people had put him through so much, it would be perfectly understandable for him to send his team on and stay the hell away. But John was, well, John. He had a strength that few could understand, much less emulate. Elizabeth could see that there was unfinished business between John and the people of G3C-187. He wanted to save them, even though they'd left him for dead. He needed to show them how people were supposed to care.
And, he needed to go back to make sure that Nalia was OK.
Elizabeth understood far more about the girl than John would ever suspect she'd be able to guess. He had carefully crafted his words to express only his sincere gratitude to the young woman who had risked her father's ire, and the condemnation of the whole town, to find the cure that had not only saved him, but also most likely saved his teammates lives as well. But Elizabeth could hear him calling to the girl over and over in his fevered dreams, hear him begging her forgiveness for leaving.
Elizabeth had been subjected once or twice to the John Sheppard charm that could leave even a seasoned diplomat melting in her shoes and looking for a quick way out of the room to breathe deeply for composure. It didn't take much to imagine how that charm, even unintended, might affect a lonely young woman. Though she might never know exactly what happened or how between her military commander and the girl, Elizabeth now understood John's sorrow. She had to let him go back.