Title: Quiet Riot
Author: Angel Leviathan
Disclaimer: Atlantis, the characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.
Spoilers: Anything, everything.
Season: Future
Notes: None.
The day he didn't return through the 'Gate…she changed.
She was silent for many days, always walking the corridors of the city. She didn't curse his fate or sob that a fine man had been lost. As far as anybody was concerned, she hadn't shed a single tear. She gave her orders as calmly as ever and refused to rise to attempts to make her break down for her own good, responding to accusations that she felt nothing with a soulless gaze and an empty voice.
She didn't appoint a new military officer to keep her up to date with the state of the military personnel. She did that herself. If an officer so much as sneezed, she knew about it. Missions off-world and within the city, she knew every detail. Every aspect of every plan and every move one of her people made.
She threw herself into her work, ensuring that the city ran without incident, settling arguments with a firm hand that nobody dared question. When they did question her, it was only further attempts to provoke a reaction, a reaction they believed was long overdue. She still refused to provide them with an answer as to her emotional wellbeing.
When she picked up a gun, her people started to worry. When she accompanied teams off-world on a regular basis, they were concerned. When she was seen with a handgun constantly strapped to her thigh, they were stunned. She had always insisted that diplomacy took precedent over military action. Now she had armed herself. Against what? Her heart? The enemies she feared would destroy her city?
She trained with Teyla until she was confident she could defend herself against an attacker with enough skill to save her life. She demanded Ford instruct her in the use of various weaponry. She ignored the glances and frantic whispers that surely meant she was slowly losing her mind. Ignored the subtle hints that perhaps she should grieve and get on with her life. They had no idea.
She came through the 'Gate with blood on her hands once, leaving her personnel in a state of shock. When questioned, she simply replied that the situation 'had turned bad'. Had she killed? Was she hurt herself? Had she tried to save another? She wasn't hurt. The cart of her weapon was missing several bullets. The subject was dropped.
What not one member of her city's community knew was that she had grieved, the day he hadn't returned she had wept bitterly over the loss of her closest friend, and had smacked her fist through a glass panel. In the Infirmary she had declared that she fell, tripped over and stumbled against the glass, somehow fist first. Whether they believed her or not, she didn't care.
She had a choice.
She could let herself sink in the mind-numbing grief she felt eating away at her.
Or she could make him proud.
Show that he had taught her well. That his shouting pleas that she learn to shut her heart away when it mattered had hit home. Ensure she could defend herself and her city. Match her people's bravery and courage, not be the one always waiting for them behind a desk. She might flinch every time she touched a weapon and she might shake when she pulled the trigger, but nobody noticed. And to her, that was what mattered. She smiled when it was appropriate and laughed when she thought she could, trained her mind to think on two levels, trained her body to react faster than she ever thought it could. She hoped he'd be proud of what she'd accomplished. …Though always in the back of her mind was the thought that he might be utterly disgusted by the changes she had forced upon herself. Except, she mourned, it was too late. She couldn't go back.
So, six months later, when she read an old GDO signal being sent through the 'Gate, against her better judgement, she let the traveller through.
John Sheppard didn't know the woman before him clutching a P-90 and aiming directly for him.
Elizabeth wasn't even sure she knew herself.