Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.
Part 20/24
-Chapter 20-
Repercussions
-Atlantis – Past-
The John Sheppard of the past—now the present— slung his P90 over his shoulder and took the steps up to the control room by twos and threes, anxiety driving his movements. He didn't know for sure why he was in such a hurry. He knew the control room hadn't been penetrated by the Wraith; Elizabeth had to be safe. But he couldn't shake his uneasiness.
The room was in an uproar. Technicians leaned over darkened consoles, jabbering to each other in science speak. John checked up just inside the entrance, his eyes sweeping the room, seeking Elizabeth.
All activity abruptly ceased as his presence was noted, all the chatter going absolutely silent. Every military tech sprang simultaneously to attention, hands snapping up in salutes. Every civilian tech stood equally straight and still.
Oh, this is definitely so weird! Why--? Then, as the solemn expressions registered, realization dawned: The transmissions between Daedalus and Jumper 2 had naturally been monitored up here.
A muscle in his jaw jerked twice as he returned salute. "As you were," he said quietly. Postures immediately relaxed; but no one spoke or resumed their repairs until he had crossed to the short hallway leading to Elizabeth's office. He paused just outside the doorway, feeling an unaccustomed diffidence settle over him.
She was sitting at her desk, staring blankly at her computer screen. She looked pale and exhausted, the fragile skin under her eyes dark as bruises. Her slender shoulders, usually so confidently straight, sagged as if beneath an intolerably heavy burden; and she held her left hand cradled in her right just below her heart, as if nursing an injury.
He must have made some sound; or perhaps it was just the intensity of his gaze that brought her back to awareness of her surroundings. He saw her shiver once, very hard, and then her jade green eyes focused on him.
"John!" She stood up quickly, hurrying around her desk toward him. It sparked within him the memory of another time, after a similar crisis, when she had rushed to meet him. But she stopped just as quickly a couple of paces away. She wrapped her arms around her midriff, her manner unexpectedly stiff and awkward. "I'm glad to see you're okay."
Though he absolutely ached to grab her and hold her, he took his cue from her. "I'm fine, but what about you?" He tipped his head towards her tightly folded arms. "What's wrong with your hand?"
Elizabeth looked startled for a moment. "Oh! No, no, it's okay. I'm fine." She held up her left hand towards him, briefly turning the reddened palm up towards him before tucking it back into the crook of her right arm. "See? It's just a first degree burn. I had my hand on one of the consoles when it shorted out. Honestly, it just stung for a few minutes, and doesn't even hurt--"
Her voice broke on the word. He saw how close her self-control was to shattering. He took an involuntary step toward her, feeling a protest welling up within him. Oh, Elizabeth! Why did you have to listen and hear that?
But he knew the answer, of course. She was Atlantis's leader. As she would see it, she had given the order; she wouldn't shirk the consequences.
Not for the first time in their relationship, John regretted that he was not good with words. As he tried to find something, anything, to say, she gave her head a sharp shake and sucked a ragged breath. Without looking at him again, she walked past him, through the control room and out onto the balcony. John instantly followed.
Elizabeth went straight to the railing. Bracing her hands against it, she stared up into a sky free now of attackers. Her shoulders were tight; her entire posture fairly shouted, Just leave me alone!
He couldn't do that. But he couldn't force himself on her either. He stopped just outside her personal space: far enough away to give her some privacy yet close enough to be immediately there when she needed him. She always struggled whenever a death occurred among the expedition forces. Time after time after time he'd seen it, and known it on some gut-deep level for one of the qualities that made her such a great leader. Seeing it never got any easier, though; and he dreaded having to answer the question he knew would inevitably come.
Watching her, he saw the exact moment when she gathered enough inner strength to ask it. She didn't look around, only bowed her head and uttered a single word. "Ronon?"
There was no way to say it that would spare her added pain, so he came straight out with it. "He took a Wraith blast meant for Teyla. He died."
She flinched as if the words were a blow across her back. "Teyla?"
John passed a tired hand over his face at the memory. "She's – pretty shaken up, but otherwise okay. Our Ronon is with her."
Elizabeth finally turned her head toward him slightly. John took this as a kind of invitation; he moved over to lean against the railing as well. Their shoulders barely brushed, and he was glad when Elizabeth didn't flinch away from the contact. He watched the emotions flicker across her face, a kaleidoscope of sentiments he knew she wouldn't let anyone else ever see.
"I know they did what they wanted to do, what they intended to do." Her voice was barely louder than the ceaseless sea sounds reaching the balcony from far, far below. "I know they came back to save Atlantis, to save lives. But, John, I can't help but wonder: was it really worth the terribleness of the price they paid?"
He saw the fragile façade barely holding her together start to crumble.
To Be Continued. . .
