It seemed dark and unusually somber when he returned to his room. John started tugging off his boots. It wasn't like there was a lot more he could do to make the room homey, he wouldn't even know where to start. As a kid, he'd alternated between the ranch and the brownstone and then later in life there had been bunks and barracks. None of them had ever felt like home. However sparse and minimal, these quarters were the closest thing to a home John had ever found. He eyed the bag of mending sitting prominently on the desk and something akin to panic flared inside him. He was going to screw this up. Snatching a clean pair of BDU's, he realized that in all the times that thought had crossed his mind, it had never left him feeling the gut twisting sense of loss that pained him now.

He grabbed the bag of shirts and sank into his bed, starting the methodical process of transferring all the crap he tucked away in one uniform to the next. Unwanted thoughts streamed through his mind like the game day updates on ESPN. It had been foolish of him to get so close to Elizabeth, but they'd arrived at this point so effortlessly that he was still slightly stunned to realize what was happening. He had to find a way to throttle his feelings, even if there was an inkling of hope she felt the same. He pulled a shirt from the bag and started filling his pockets.

Aware of a sullen mood settling over him, he contemplated a run. He needed to clear his head and shake off those pesky tender feelings that were suddenly tugging at his heart. He pulled out one last item from his pocket, trying not to focus on the deeply creased photo he carried with him. John tried to carefully stow it inside the clean shirt, but his fingers brushed against something blocking the way. Elizabeth must have accidentally left some fabric in the pocket.

John freed and unfolded the fabric. A shock thundered through his body not unlike the jolt from breaking the sound barrier in an F-16. He needed to sit down. Realizing he was already sitting, he stood up instead. His head was swirling, maybe he really should sit. Shit.

In his fingers was the drawing he'd seen on Chuck's computer, the one he'd gotten from Elizabeth. John was willing to bet good money he was currently holding the original. The vivid colors twined and interlaced just as their eyes and hands had that night. It threw him back in time, into the memory of how he'd felt in that moment. Just as he'd surmised earlier that day, the look in their eyes was entirely too intimate and his feelings were…

Run. John mentally took himself by the scruff trying to redirect the emotions rolling through him. The laces on his sneakers refused to cooperate. As he struggled with them, his eyes caught the image on his own tattered picture. It was Elizabeth overlooking the Gateroom while John stood below giving her a wave goodbye before undertaking his first mission since arriving on Atlantis. It had been a fixture in his pocket from the moment the photo had fallen into his hands. Even now, he cringed to think of why he carried it within his pocket every day. From the very beginning, something had drawn them together, something stronger than his convictions about duty and responsibility. He took a deep breath and looked back to the drawing. Distancing himself from her would be hard, harder then he'd ever dreamed possible. If it were even possible, he considered.

In the Control room:

"What is the emergency? I was in the middle of a chess game with Dr. Ambrose. If I won she was going to give me a Swedish massage." Zelenka indignantly shoved his eyeglasses up towards the bridge of his nose.

"We appreciate your quick response, Dr. Zelenka." Teyla's warm voice seemed to soothe him somewhat. "But perhaps you should return to the game. We should have informed you our request is of a personal matter."

Zelenka's face bobbed back and forth from Chuck to Telya, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What type of personal matter?"

"I was hoping you could help us manipulate the security cameras. There have been a few interesting developments and we want to see what happens next." Chuck quickly filled in Zelenka and showed him the drawing.

"I wished you would have said something, I should have brought the record book and the money." Zelenka rubbed his chin absentmindedly. "It looks like I'm about to collect from McKay."

"I should call Ford. He's running a betting pool too." Chuck tried to remember what he stood to gain if the cards fell the way he hoped tonight.

Zelenka was already at a terminal flipping through various displays of video feed. "Hmm. It looks like Major Sheppard has changed his mind. He's running quite quickly and Elizabeth's quarters are in the opposite direction."

Chuck watched Teyla's lips purse in concentration.

"I had considered that John would have second thoughts. They may need a little more encouragement." Teyla's eyes brightened and she tapped the radio by her ear. "Dr. Beckett, if you are not busy would you be willing to meet me in the Control Room?"

"Lt. Ford? You might want to get down to the Control Room." Chuck radioed. "There has been some activity that might up the ante on your betting board."

"What!" A thud and crackling static panged at Chucks ear. "On my way."

Fifteen minutes later Carson was prepped and ready for action. "Major Sheppard? Major Sheppard this is Dr. Beckett. I was worried about Elizabeth and wanted to know how she was doing."

Carson shrugged and looked over at Zelenka. Ford was now hovering closely over Zelenka's shoulder and they both had their eyes glued to the monitor.

"He's still running, maybe he didn't take his radio?" Ford offered.

"That would be unlike John." Teyla mused looking thoughtfully at the screen.

"I could always call him on the citywide PA." But even as he spoke Chuck knew that was a bad idea.

"That would only worry Elizabeth." Carson tapped his radio again. "Major Sheppard, if you've been delayed I'll be happy to go look in on Elizabeth."

"This is Sheppard." There was a long pause. "I'll head over and check on her. I just need to grab a quick shower."

Carson practically glowed with delight. "Tell you what lad, I'll have the kitchen pack up some dinner for her. It'll be ready for you to grab when you're on your way."

"Thanks doc, I'll let you know if she's not feeling better."

"I'll run down to the mess hall and take care of the food." Ford was grinning and walking backwards. "I'm going to tell them to pack enough for two."

"Aiden?" Teyla stopped him. "See if there is any dessert left from our mission today."

"Ford?" The mention of food had Chuck's stomach rumbling and he couldn't leave his post for another hour. "Can you maybe bring back some of that dessert and coffee for the rest of us?"

"Sure thing, one of the cooks is sweet on me. I'll charm her out of some goodies." Ford raised his brows up and down before disappearing down the corridor.

"I'd forgotten. I'd heard rumors Dr. Weir has a sweet tooth. Too bad we don't have any wine." Zelenka mused. "I could send some of my homemade recipe."

"Not this time." Teyla smiled knowingly. "We don't want it to seem too contrived."

"What's contrived?" McKay strode in and glanced up from his tablet. "Hey, what are you all doing here?"

They all warily exchanged glances. It was well known McKay had serious doubts about their speculation. Chuck tended to think it was more of a hidden horror of McKay's to imagine Dr. Weir and Major. Sheppard together and he wondered if McKay cared more for Elizabeth than they'd all realized.

McKay started tapping his foot impatiently. "Hello! The guilty looking foot shuffling is amusing and all, but my time is valuable people."

"Rodney, perhaps we should have a talk." Teyla moved forward and McKay instantly looked flustered.

Chuck pursed his lips and ducked his head down. McKay would have a hard time trying to resist Teyla's will, even if her intention guided his thoughts to undesirable topics.

Elizabeth's Quarters:

Elizabeth had been standing before the door for a good fifteen minutes. Glaring at it even now, she stalked away without finding the nerve to leave the safety of her room. If she had been embarrassed and humiliated earlier, she wasn't entirely sure what she could call herself now. In all her time upon Atlantis, she had strived to be a leader above reproach. Yet today she had fled her office much like a smitten schoolgirl and even now could hardly muster the nerve to leave her quarters and right her wrongs. Hunger had become another annoying human weakness in her mind and though her stomach was rumbling, even that was not enough to urge her feet into action.

No one had come. Not that she wanted that response, it would only serve to reinforce the fleeing schoolgirl looking for attention. But still, somewhere deep inside she had to acknowledge it would have been nice to have anyone who cared enough to check her well-being. She dropped onto her bed and sighed. Especially if that someone had an amazingly unruly head of spiking dark hair.

TBC…