3.14 – Sunday

John stood near the door of the pier, watching Rodney stare out to sea from the far end. The funeral had been awful; Mrs Beckett had thanked them quietly for bringing Carson home, and then, without any fuss, fallen to her knees and cried. One of the cousins had come to help Elizabeth with her and the rest of the Atlantis crew had been left to make increasingly awkward small talk.

"Alice," John said quietly. She'd stayed away during the whole crisis, turning up only during the memorial just before their return to Earth.

"Yes, John," she said quietly from behind him. He turned to glance at her; she was a little subdued, but with the exception of a black band around one arm she looked perfectly normal.

"Is Rodney ok?"

"He's talking to himself."

"He always talks to himself."

"It's not about anyone's incompetence."

John grimaced. "That might be a problem."

"He feels guilty," Alice noted.

"We all feel guilty. Heightmeyer's going to be busy for a while."

"I like her. She's very nice."

"Someone actually thought this thing was a good idea?" John demanded, suddenly angry. "Explosive tumours? How was it..."

"It was considered a good way to inflict extra damage. Someone infected could potentially travel quite a long distance and take many others with them." She blinked at his glare. "It was abandoned, John, early. That's why it took so long for me to remember what it was, what it did. I got the information to Rodney as quickly as I could. I promise."

"You're supposed to warn me about things like this," John murmured, but the anger was gone.

"I don't remember everything. Things like that...that are so old...they're not in my primary memory. I have to go look. Sometimes it takes time. I'm truly sorry."

"Is that necessary?" he asked, gesturing to the band. "No one's going to see it."

"I liked Carson. He was a good man. It's about the only thing I can do for him." She tugged at the band. "I'll take it off if you want."

"No. Whatever." John looked back out towards Rodney; he seemed to be done talking and was just staring, shoulders hunched. "Did Carson know about you?" he asked suddenly.

Alice didn't answer and he turned to look at her again. "Alice."

"No," she said finally.

"But?" John prodded, recognising the tone.

"He didn't know about me," Alice repeated carefully. "But he knew...he knew this wasn't just a city. Not just buildings. Sometimes he talked to us, to himself, to me. Just to pass time, or to hear himself. He knew you knew and he didn't want to. He never asked anything. He just talked."

"But he heard you? He'd have seen you, if you wanted?"

"If he wanted," she corrected him. "He didn't want to know about me. I did my best to honour that. Sometimes he heard me speak with you. He tried not to listen. Like eavesdropping, he said once."

John nodded slowly, glancing out along the pier. Rodney had given up and was wandering back towards them. "You should have told me."

"Nothing to tell. 'Good morning, John, Carson doesn't know about me.' "

"That's..." He lowered his voice as Rodney glanced up. "A matter of opinion," he finished. "Go and scan something."

"Yes, John," Alice agreed. She paused to add, "I'm sorry. I'll miss him."

"You and everyone else," John breathed, turning to meet Rodney as he reached the door.