Chapter 44

The prequel is online in case you're interested.

I'll be posting more regularly from now on, with a few chapters at a time, now I've basically edited it all. It doesn't mean there are no mistakes. No beta on that story. Sorry about that.

I don't know if anyone is still interested in that story.

Know that I'm working on a sequel. I do have the beginning and the end but still working my butt off on the middle and that's not the easiest part. So stay tuned and don't forget there's a blog too for those who, like me and Louise, think happiness is homemade.

Spoilers for Outcast

She steps into the gate room at Midway Station as he and Ronon are leaving it. He turns on instinct as he hears the puddle whoosh close and sees her. She smiles shyly. She hasn't asked for his permission to come along. Maybe this is a huge mistake. Sure, Ronon didn't ask either but he's a guy – guys act differently in times like these. Maybe she's the last thing he needs right now.

"Louise, my father has just passed away. I need to get back to Earth for the funeral. I just wanted..." he hesitates then clams up, his walls going up in a flash for the first time in weeks. "Sorry, just wanted you to know. I'll see you in a bit." He drops the shadow of a kiss on her cheek and is gone before she has the time to react...

"Ma'am, I need your permission to get back to Earth with Colonel Sheppard," she informs Colonel Carter hurriedly, having knocked on her office door.

"You're not the first person who's asked, Ms Léger," Sam replies with a smile.

"Does that mean I can't go?" she worries, her heart dropping. She can't let him leave like that. Too much hurt in his eyes, too much stress in his gait. She needs to know he's going to be all right.

Sam chuckles. "No, it's quite all right. Your under-cooks will manage somehow. I'm glad to see Colonel Sheppard won't be alone. It's in times like these we realize how much some people love us – even the most reserved," she remarks, both thinking about her own dad's death and about Ronon and Louise. They're not ones for showing their affection in public. She does know though that her 2IC and her head cook have a very close relationship but it's rare for them to advertise it. "You have my go-ahead. Take good care of him, Ms Léger."

She nods and leaves at a run to stash a few clothes and toiletries in her tote bag. All she owns is casual but it will have to do until she drops at a store to get something for the wake and funeral should John ask her to come with him.

She walks down the ramp to him. He looks stern. She knows that look. It usually means he needs to keep collected or else. She comes to a halt in front of him as Bill Lee enters the room. "Please tell me if you'd prefer me to return home asap. I don't want to be a liability," she says, her voice strained.

He turns to Lee. "Doctor," he says, with a lazy drawl. "It seems there will be one more person coming with me, if that's not an inconvenience."

Lee nods with a smile. "I was informed by Colonel Carter just a moment ago. Your friends are most welcomed here, Colonel." He greets them both and informs them they'll have to share quarters though and wait for twenty-four hours before being allowed back on Earth. John takes her hand and squeezes it, making her know he's glad she's there.

They keep quiet most of the wait. There's not much to be said except platitudes in times like these. She knows – she's been through it herself. The longest day of her life. All you can do is spare your friend the hurdle of having to answer whatever you're trying to say to make things better. Because it won't get better. Only time can mend your sorrow or guilt. They briefly talked once of their fathers – how strained their relationships have been. They come from very different backgrounds but their story is eerily similar in many ways, one of them being the expectations of their fathers and their own refusals to let them mold them into what they wanted. She knows now he's gone, John will never get a chance to have a heart to heart conversation with him and she does know how much that hurts.

They drop at a couple of stores before they head to the hotel. She helps Ronon choose pants and a shirt in which he will not stand out too much – if that's ever possible! He looks good in them and she tells him, getting the first real smile from John who agrees. He grabs a suit for himself, not caring much how it looks, not seeing the openly admirative looks from the sales women. She hears "eye candy" in their conversation and stares them down. She adds a white shirt and tie to his selection and pushes him gently towards the fitting rooms then walks briskly to the women standing near the cash register. Ronon smirks. He's always been a sucker for a good fight even when he's only there to watch. "You, ladies, had better change your attitude before my friend leaves this room," she says through clenched teeth, pointing at the door John has gone through. "He's just lost his father. Have a little decency. And FYI," she adds nastily, looking them up and down, "you're clearly not his type." That's not exactly true but she doesn't feel like being compassionate right now – not one bit. Ronon sniggers as John reappears.

He walks to Louise and ruffles his already unruly hair. "What do you think?" he asks despondently.

She knows choosing clothes is the last thing on his mind. "You look OK. Don't worry."

He tilts his head and attempts to tease her, all the same. "OK? That's all?"

She smirks. "Why don't you ask the hairy heads over there," she says, pointing at the women she's just bawled out. "They say you're eye candy."

He sniggers and glances in their direction, getting compassionate looks. "Not my type. What did you do to them, Louise?"

"She kicked their ass. What do you think?" Ronon sniggers.

John smirks. "That's my girl! Let's get you something to wear now," he offers.

She ends up picking the first little black dress she sees. She hates wearing dresses but guesses it's the least she can do to fit in. "It's the first time I see you wear a dress," John remarks as they leave the store and head for the hotel. Their shopping spree has done wonders to take his mind off what's awaiting him. "I wish it were in different circumstances."

"You should wear one more often," Ronon nods in agreement.

She sniggers. "You guys are so cliché!"

Ronon hovers a lot during the wake, hardly leaving John's side. She remains discreet, waiting before she gets out of the car, and walks to the paddock. She only walks back to him when he motions for her to join them and meet his brother. She knows all about their strained relation – David being the favorite, the one who's always done things right. He looks nice enough but her heart goes out to John. She knows no matter what, she'll always side with him.

In the car, she sits next to him, with Ronon sitting in the back. She's seen John talk to his wife – gathered it was her because he's never talked about her. It's not the time to ask – not that she thinks she will if she doesn't think he's in the mood for it. She can only imagine how he feels right now. From the look he gave her, she knows he didn't expect to see her.

As she's given the specifics of the crisis at hand, she sneers inwardly. Lose father, check. See ex-wife, check. Chase a replicator, check. Things go south from then on. How much more is he gonna be able to bear before he finally snaps? But he doesn't, because that's who he is. She realizes this is probably what she loves the most about him – not his good looks, or ability to fly anything, or even his sense of humor – but the fact that no matter what happens in his own life, no matter how hard he struggles with his own issues, he's always ready to do whatever it takes to make things right and sacrifice his own well-being for the good of others.

He doesn't like to be told so and often hides it behind his sarcasm and it comes so easily to him, people forget to thank him for it. He's always watched her back and instead of thanking him, she's often yelled at him for repeatedly putting his life at risk. She realizes just now that what he most needs is not thank yous but to feel accepted for who he is and supported in his decisions, even the most reckless ones, as Elizabeth had done most of the times, even when she knew he was sacrificing himself. She makes a mental note of trying to do just that from now on.

When they corner the replicator, she offers to help. They're spread thin on such short notice and Ronon has mentioned quite a few times she's a good shot. John refuses adamantly, infuriating her. "No way I'm putting your life at risk. You stay behind. You're not trained for such operations," he tells her curtly, his mind already on the plan they've come up with.

She grabs his arm, drawing him to the side. "This is so not true, John, and you know it. I did everything you told me to. I train every week with you and Ronon and now you're telling me I'm no use? This is so not fair!" she protests, making him growl.

He frees his arm and points his finger at her. "You, lady, are staying right here. Period. I'm your CO. You do as you're told." He gets closer and whispers in her ear, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the team. "Don't undermine my authority, sweetie. I need you here and in one piece. I don't want to have to worry about your welfare on top of everything. I have my share of worry already." He looks her in the eye, waiting for a proper answer, knowing she'll humor him now.

"Yes, Sir," she replies, for everyone to hear. He doesn't say a thing. There'll be time enough to talk about it when they head back home. Midway Station has a 24-hour quarantine. Plenty of time to work things out.

She drops him at his father's place and makes sure his brother welcomes him before heading back with the taxi to their hotel. Ronon has left a few hours before, entrusting John to her. He's done what he knows best – be quiet, listen, be there and put up a good fight when needed. It's her turn to be there for him in her own way.

Back on Atlantis, when she was still the cook and Buckley was not underfoot, she would invite him to the kitchen and they'd talk while she cooked. When Buckley had then made the kitchen his own realm, though barely physically there, they'd had to resort to other ways. She would cook something and bring it to his quarters or hers. In a sense, she could thank Buckley for that. They've ended up spending more time together that way as it's easier to lose track of time when you're not in a public place, though deserted in the late hours.

He returns late in the afternoon. "I'm all yours," he informs her with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

She walks up to him and gives him a hug. "How did it go?" she tentatively asks, hoping even that doesn't overstep boundaries. They've never really talked about his feelings, only about facts about his family.

"Peachy!" he replies, his snarky retort hiding his hurt poorly.

"John, you don't have to pretend with me, you know. God knows I know what it feels like – having to keep it all inside. If you want to talk, I'll listen and if you don't, well, I can shut up too," she offers, making him chuckle.

"Sweetie, I don't know what I want right now. I'm tired. No, cross that out. Make it drained. By the whole thing – my father, my brother, my ex-wife, the replicator... God, what a day... days!" he replies despondently.

"Do you want me to leave you? I can return to the SGC and wait for you there," she offers, not wanting to impose on him.

"Stay!" he blurts out before he has time to think. She looks up, surprised by the unchecked reply. He's often so in control of his reactions, it's a far cry from what she is used to. "Did I say that out loud?" he wonders, embarrassed and bites his lower lip.

"Yeah, I'm afraid so!" she teases him. "I'll stay then. That's settled. Why don't you relax a bit and when you're ready, we'll go to a nice restaurant. I haven't seen you eat anything in I don't know how long."

He gives her a tired smile and nods. "I'll take a shower and meet you in the lobby in half an hour. I see you're not wearing that cute little dress of yours or I'd take you to a fancy restaurant," he teases her and sees it worked, seeing the look of horror on her face. She hates anything pretentious or uptight. "I know of a nice diner a couple of blocks from here," he amends. "I'm sure you'll like the place."

They walk back to the hotel when the sun has not even set. The place was homey and the food simple, as she likes it. They've asked for the booth at the farther end so they are away from the crowd of early patrons and can talk quietly. He tells her about his visit to his brother. They haven't much in common and been at odds for so long, he doesn't think there's much left between them, except the estate. John tells her he's been very clear with his brother he doesn't care much about what his father has left him.

She understands all he wants is to severe the ties once and for all. She knows the feeling quite well and tells him so, sharing her own story, filling the blanks about that part. It warms his heart to have someone to talk to about it, someone who will not judge him for feeling there's not much that remains to be saved wih his own family.

They talk some more over dessert, sharing blood orange pie and chocolate cake. She sends her compliments to the chef, mentioning she'll try and make the pie when she returns home. The waitress comes back with a couple of expressos and an invitation from the chef to join her in the kitchen. She starts by refusing, not wanting to leave John alone but he chuckles and orders her to go. She comes back with a huge grin on her face a few minutes later and a recipe in hand.

As they walk back to the hotel, she feels his arm tense against her hand she's wrapped around. "You OK?" she worries.

"Nope," he replies bluntly, knowing she won't mind. She waits for the other shoe to drop. "Going to sleep is going to be difficult. I'm too wound up."

"You need to relax, John. The worst is behind you. Believe me. You just need the people around you to allow you to grieve. I'll make sure they do just that," she says, her look almost fierce, as she remembers how she'd not been allowed that comfort.

He smiles and makes her stop then turns her so she faces him. They're under a lamp post that is flickering to light in the dimming evening. "You always take good care of me, Louise. You came to my father's funeral, even after having to endure your own's. And I often forget to tell you how blessed I am I have you by my side," he sighs.

"That's so not true, John. You don't need to tell me. I know. And you also take good care of me. That's what friends do. They watch out for each other." She smiles too and ruffles his unruly hair, trying to lighten the mood.

He leans in slowly and kisses her before she has the time to step back. A light kiss on her lips – barely qualifying to be called a kiss but still. It's a first. She lowers her head, not daring to look him in the eye. It's just a simple gesture of affection, she tells herself. After all they've been through, they're close enough to do so without feeling it's inappropriate. "Louise, say something," he pleads, tilting her chin gently with his forefinger so she'll have to look at him. She's dazed by what she sees in his eyes – pain but also longing, entertwined so tightly her heart stutters. "Have I overstepped boundaries?" he prods, suddenly scared he's done something irrevocable.

She shakes her head, not looking away. "Not if it's a one time thing, on the spur of the moment, no."

He lets go of her chin and combs his hand through his hair. "What if it's not?" She blushes. "I mean," he adds hurriedly. "I... To be honest, I'd like very much to try it again. One was not enough – by far..." He looks embarrassed at being so clumsy.

"Be honest, John. You need it because you're feeling suddenly lonely. We're far from home and you've just been under a lot of stress and grief and you need to be loved. Fact is, I'm the only one around..." She winces. "Or you really want to try it again because you think you've seen something there you want to explore?" She can still feel the touch of his lips on hers and if she's honest with herself, she needs to get away from him before they make a mistake they're going to regret come morning. She tells him the last part.

He winces too. "What if it's a little bit of both?" he says, tentatively closing the gap between them.

She sighs. "In which case I'll tell you this, John. If you need the touch of a woman tonight, you just need to say it and I'll forget in the morning it ever happened. If it's more than that though, be very careful with what you do because there will be no going back to where we were. You can't have it both ways." She steps back and offers him her hand. "Let's head back to the hotel. You don't have to answer me now. I'll just go to my room. If you need to talk, call me. If you want more, you know where my room is."

He sighs and takes her hand, reveling in the touch, not knowing how he's ever going to let go of it. He could slap himself for being so stupid. How could he come on to his best friend? He knows she's right, of course. But he'd like to have it all. He'd like them to have more without losing her.

She goes first on the elevator, contending it wouldn't be their best move to go up to their rooms on the same one. He is tempted to kiss her goodnight but doesn't. It wouldn't be wise. She thinks about the same thing but doesn't act upon it either.

He calls her ten minutes later. He tells her he's sorry he's put her under so much pressure. She sighs and tells him to shut up. "If there's one thing I thought we'd established by now, John, it's that we don't need to apologize to each other. We live and learn. We'll make mistakes. Let's just not burden ourselves with I should haves."

He falls silent but doesn't want to hang up. If he had been more cautious, they would be sitting side by side on his bed, watching some stupid show instead of being apart and miserable. "Louise, I want to come," he tells her, making her heart stutter, "but I won't. Right now, I need you more than anything but I don't want to waste everything we've so painstakingly built."

It hurts her to hear the pain in his voice and know how much he needs her to be there for him. "John, if you must, just come already! But don't play with my feelings. I entrusted you with my life and my heart a very long time ago. I won't survive that kind of betrayal."

She knows he's a sucker for gorgeous girls – everything she is not. The memory of his ex-wive talking to him at his father's wake is still seared in her mind – a reminder that no matter how close they are and how tenderly he often looks at her, she'll never be like the girls he's wooed in the past. And it won't change a thing that they've somehow overcome the grief of knowing Elizabeth will never come back or that she's been given a few years back by Michael.

They're not meant to be – the plain girl with a screwed up past and the rackish flyboy with looks that could melt any girl's heart away. Not that she has ever entertained the idea. Actually, she was content with having her very unique position at his side until tonight – until he made her feel like she could be one of those girls.

"Louise, are you listening to me?" he worries, not hearing her reply. He's just told her he'll have to suck it up. Period. But she's phased out as she sometimes does though it's usually food that makes her slide into an alternate universe, not him.

"Uh? What? Oh, sorry. I was just... woolgathering, I guess," she answers sheepishly.

"I said I must but I won't because it's not right. Look, I'm going to get a long, hot shower. It might help me sleep. I'll see you in the morning, OK?" If they go on talking, he's afraid they'll end up coming up with perfectly acceptable reasons for him to come to her room. Bad idea.

"OK." That's the shortest answer he's probably ever gotten from her. He's sure she's thinking the same thing.

"Good night, Louise."

"Yeah, good night, John," she replies with a humorless laugh, knowing none of them will probably sleep well that night.

They both only catch a few hours' sleep, looking drawn and miserable when they get downstairs early in the morning and wait for their government-issue ride to come and drive them back to the SGC. She looks very pale in the early morning light. He could slap himself, knowing he's responsible for it. She's biting her nails again, something she hasn't done in ages. He takes hold of her hand gently and keeps it in his much larger one. "Don't," she says, hastily removing it.

He looks hurt and very tired too. "Is it how it's gonna be from now on? Are you punishing me?"

Her bottom lip starts trembling. "I'm tired, John, and my defenses are down. I need to know where we stand before I let you close to me again."

Their ride arrives. They get their totebags in the trunk and are ushered in the back of the car. She'd hoped he'd ask to ride shotgun but he doesn't. It's a long ride and the close proximity is going to kill her. He sighs, seeing her sit on the very end of the seat, as far from him as possible. "Louise, please..." he begs.

"Where do we go from here, John? I asked you a simple enough question." There's a sharp edge to her voice.

"OK, well, if we must have this conversation, at least, let's not have it on Midway Station," he relunctantly agrees.

She cringes. She's thought about that too – the 24-hour quarantine. It was fine and dandy on the way here because nothing had happened yet and she just had to suffer through a night spent in cramped spaces with Ronon's very loud snoring. It hadn't seemed to bother John who'd slept through it like a baby. Now, it's just the two of them and they have this issue that might very well put an end to their friendship. She groans. "God, John, I'm not the one who started it, remember?"

He looks sheepish. "How could I forget if you spend your time reminding me of it?"

She pouts. He's right. She's not helping. "All right, I apologize. That was not very nice of me."

He nods. "Well, then, let's settle this. Louise, I need to apologize. All I said was true. I won't go back on it. It'd be a lie. But we can't let that hang between us, you're right. It was a stupid move. I should never have kissed you. But for the record, it felt right at that moment. And it still feels right to hold your hand, take you in my arms and even cuddle without us needing to go further. I mean, if that's what you want..."

He's waiting for an answer. She knows it must have been really hard for him to come clean about what he feels. He's not a man of many words with others and barely more talkative with her either. They usually have their own way of communicating that often does not require so many words. Rodney says it's creepy.

John is right. If she kept him at arms' length, it would only be to punish him – and herself into the bargain. She scoots closer. "I'm sorry. I just need to know if that has changed anything between us."

He smiles and wraps his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean into him. "If it has changed anything between us, Louise, it's that I've learned we're extremely good at doing the right thing. It was not the right moment for you and we were able to resist temptation for the sake of our friendship. I think we can surmise we will be able to do it again if need be. We should cut ourselves some slack here and indulge a little, since we know where to draw the line." He kisses her temple. "But I agree – no kissing. It wouldn't be wise." She sighs and closes her eyes, settling her head on his shoulder and soon falls asleep.

He leans his head on hers and closes his eyes. He's done the right thing, found the right words, even if it cost him dearly. She's said it – she wouldn't bear having her heart broken. Losing a friend is one thing. Losing a lover would probably be too much to take. He's been lucky until now but he might run out of luck someday and not come home to her.

TBC