Chapter 48

Spoilers for the Shrine

Her door chimes and wakes her up from yet another fitful dream with a start. She fumbles for her watch. It's two in the morning. Whoever is at the door had better have a good reason for waking her up. She trudges to the door and passes her hand over the sensor. The door whooshes open revealing a very weary John. He's wearing the sweats he usually uses as pyjamas, including that very cool t-shirt he's so proud of. His hair is even more ruffled than usual but what strikes her is his gaze. "Something happened to Rodney?" she asks hurriedly, her heart suddenly beating two hundred miles an hour.

He shakes his head. "Not really, but I did just walk him back to his quarters."

Ever since Rodney has started having symptoms of that degenerating disease, she dreads the moment when someone will come to tell her he doesn't even recognize his closest friends anymore. She's seen it in her grandmother's eyes, that last year of her life when her mother had had her hospitalized and she would not even recognize her our daughter or grandchild. She doesn't think she'll be able to live through that again.

John combs his hand through his hair tiredly. "Look, I just wanted to..." He sighs and doesn't finish his sentence. She chides herself for being so selfish and thinking only of her own emotions. John is under a lot of stress, being the one whom Rodney clings to. He's barely been able to file a report or have a moment to himself since the whole thing started. He's there for McKay contantly, even sometimes at night, only leaving his side when the other man has finally gone to sleep.

She motions for him to come in. "Why don't you sit down and tell me what's wrong?" she offers.

"More wrong than ordinary?" he counters sarcastically as he sits on her bed.

She sighs and kneels behind him then starts massaging her way down – from his head to his shoulders. He's incredibly tense but slowly relaxes under her ministrations while he tells her how McKay got to his room a couple of hours ago and they had ended up on the pier, sitting and having beer.

She slaps his shoulder and growls. "John! You made him drink alcohol? What were you thinking?" she demands. "Have you ever thought for a minute about asking for Jennifer's permission first?"

He turns and grabs her, making her tumble on his lap then sits her next to him. "God, Louise, stop doing that, damn it! You leave bruises, ya' know!"

She rolls her eyes. "Sorry," she drawls, not looking sorry at all. But pissed she still is. She narrows her eyes at him. "As I can smell, he was not the only one drinking," she points out. "How many beers have you had?" she demands.

He shrugs. "Stopped counting after the third," he answers casually.

"How many beers did you give Rodney?" she wants to know.

"A couple. No more," he answers sheepishly. She's right. He should have asked first though when he left Rodney, he seemed just fine.

"Is it two or three?" she prods. He shows her two fingers and hangs his head. He's suddenly very tired and feels his limbs are heavy. She relays the information to the infirmary, asking them to check on Rodney, just in case, and call them if anything is the matter. "Let's hope not," she adds, pouting.

"He was just fine when I left him, Léger. Actually, he seemed more relaxed than I have seen him in a while," he says for his defense.

She rolls her eyes. "I bet he was!" she sniggers. "As are you..."

He glances at her sheepishly. "Sorry..."

"No you're not," she counters, knowing him. "Now, if you want to stay here," she adds, knowing he's come here because he can't take it to return to his quarters now he's awake and face the ugly truth alone, "go brush your teeth. There's a brand new toothbrush in the bathroom's drawer that's been dying to meet you... I guess," she says sarcastically.

He returns a moment later and gets into bed beside her. She turns off the lights and turns on her side to face him. "You OK?" she asks. Bitchy as she felt when he first announced her he'd taken Rodney for a tailgate party, she gets the point now. They need to connect as much as they can and Rodney needs to relax. John too.

"Yeah," he mumbles, feeling drowsy. The bed is already warm from her earlier sleep and her body radiates heat, beckoning to him. He scoots a little closer. She pouts in the dark, thinking how easily things could get heated in such an emotional moment but he needs her so she schools herself and pulls him closer. He wraps his arms around her waist and buries his head in her neck. "For what it's worth," he mutters. "I really am sorry I didn't think of the consequences."

She nuzzles his neck and kisses it. "Who am I to judge?" she answers self-deprecatingly.

When they decide to take Rodney to that shrine Ronon has told them about, she declines, connecting with Woosley instantly. He's been through the same experience. Ronon too, but he was just a little boy at the time. She was older and remembers it vividly. A whole year seeing the most important person of her childhood go from one wrinkled but perky lady with a sharp tongue and the memories of a lifetime to a shrivelled old woman who would not even remember the recipes she'd made thousands of times or that two of her own children had already died years earlier, asking about them incessantly.

John knows all this and so much more. They woke up that night in her room after a few hours and couldn't get back to sleep so she settled against him, her head in the crook of his neck and her hand on his chest and they talked until the wee small hours of the morning before heading to the still eerily silent kitchen for freshly baked waffles and coffee she made with him, working side by side in silence.

"Tell him I love him," she instructs John, handing him a few containers with Rodney's favorite food as they gear up to leave for the shrine. "I packed you guys a picnic. If he's up to it, it'd be good for him to, you know, have a party..."

She's wrapped her arms around Rodney ealier on, in the infirmary, telling him she loves him but he already doesn't remember who she is and has screamed at John for help. She's got tears in her eyes when she sees them leave through the gate. Mr Woolsey takes hold of her elbow and steers her gently towards his office. "Why don't you sit down, Ms Léger? They'll probably be a while." He knows she doesn't want to stray too far from the stargate, in case they'd hear from the team.

After a few hours though, they're bored of playing chess and checkers and she offers to cook something so they head for the kitchen where he came quite a long time ago to evaluate her ability to stand up to the former chef.

They devise quietly about quite a few subjects and one leading to another, they end up confiding in each other – him about his father and her about her grandmother. She's long surmised he's not the stuck up, useless prick he appeared to be at first but that day, he wins her respect once and for all and her friendship too. He's donned an apron as if it were the most mundane thing in his world and helps her chop vegetables and onions. She shows him how she makes what has come to be known as Kavanagh's vegetable crumble around base, recounting him how he had been a snotty prick and had tried to wring her arm so she'd cook only what he wanted. Woolsey watches her intently as she tells her story, brushing off the tears that well up in her eyes regularly – because of the onions, she contends. Those are happier times she's recounting and he sees she needs to cling to those memories. "I'd like to go back in time, Mr Woolsey," she confesses as she puts her finishing touch to her crumble.

"There's nothing we can do to change the course of time, my dear, though General O'Neill might have recounted you his team's very unlikely trip," Woolsey points out. "And if we could, it's dangerous to gamble with our timeline."

She nods and pouts. "I know. But history repeats itself, it seems, and with hindsight, I wouldn't make the same mistakes twice."

"And what would that be?" he prods.

"Let people into my heart and then lose them all," she answers bluntly, on the spur of the moment.

"I have an inkling this is not the first time you think about that, Ms Léger..." He looks worried, seeing the grief in her eyes.

She shakes her head and sits at the table where he joins her. "John – I mean, Colonel Sheppard – doesn't like me to say it but it's true," she exclaims. "I don't know how much more heartache I can take, Mr Woolsey. Rodney's disease has taken a toll on all of us, especially John. I'm not sure I can take it."

"But you'll be there for Colonel Sheppard." It's not a question but he sees her flinch. "What is it, Ms Léger?" he asks, seeing her look away.

"Thing is, Sir, Colonel Sheppard has been through a lot recently and I have tried to be there for him but he's asking for more than I can give," she answers, flushing with embarrassment. She doesn't know where that came from. She shouldn't be discussing her private relationship with John with no less than her boss – though it's true every time they fall apart or bicker, the whole base is likely to suffer from it as well.

"Richard," he counters. She looks up in surprise. "This is a conversation between friends, worrying about a mutual friend, so Louise, I'm Richard here, not Mr Woolsey."

She smiles at him and mouthes "thank you" which earns her a smile and a pat on her hand.

"If I may, Louise," he says, glancing at her and seeing her nod, "Colonel Sheppard and yourself have a very unique relationship on this base. I must say, as the leader of this expedition and his superior, I'm counting on you to take care of him in such difficult moments. As a friend, though, I can only say one thing – if you're uncomfortable with where your friendship with him is heading, I would advise you strongly to think about what you want and discuss it with him." She pouts but remains silent. "History seems to repeat itself, indeed, as this conversation reminds me of another friend of yours with whom you had difficulties clarifying your "friendship"..." he adds, making her blush. He smiles gently at her. "Louise, I'm not trying to make you squirm here. You're past the age when I could chide you. But if you want a different perspective on the matter, I'd say you can't turn a blind eye on what you two have. Or some day soon, you'll regret it."

She blushes some more. Clearly he doesn't mean what she thinks he's meaning? "Are you suggesting I'm being purposefully blind?" she counters, tilting her head to the side, regarding him cautiously.

"I'm not saying you're doing it willingly," he answers softly, before standing and walking to the door, after glancing at his watch. "I'll be right back," he says. "I need to see the techs. Think about it, Louise," he adds.

They never get to eat the crumble together because John returns with the whole team, Rodney included, and they ended up sitting in the mess hall and having that party after all.

John notices that, though very cheerful and sociable that night, she's more guarded with him than she's even been before, not letting him sit next to her but rather sitting purposefully between Ronon and Rodney as if those two could guard her against him. His suspicions are confirmed when she declines leaving with him to return to her quarters, preferring to stay behind to "tie loose ends" before she hits the sack, not letting him help when he offers. He suspects something has come up to make her become more reserved, though if he's honest about it, he knows he's pushed her limits a lot ever since his father's death – something she might not be ready for, in spite of all the contradictory signals she's sent him recently.

TBC