NOTES: Another little scene that kept pestering me and sprawled into something a bit bigger while it was being written. There must be a few out there, but I'm a tad surprised I've yet to read an Atlantis fanfiction that offers an explanation for this silent, ever-present part of Weir's character. Thank you, PurpleYin, for betaing this!
DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis and all things associated with it belong to other people.
SPOILERS: at least through The Eye
RATING: T
HEART OF THE MATTER
Lights twinkled along the distant shore as the moon hung full and round in the night sky. The yacht swayed in gentle rhythm with the quiet lapping waves, adding a soothing counterpoint to the constant murmur of the crowd from the cabin behind her.
Dr. Elizabeth Weir marveled at how familiar it all seemed, how this could be one of any number of events she'd attended as a diplomat on Earth. But it was the clean, cool breeze that made her feel she was on another world. There was no hint of salt in the air.
Elizabeth sensed someone behind her a moment before she was enveloped in soft warmth. Surprised, she turned to find Dr. Rodney McKay had placed his jacket around her shoulders and joined her, leaning against the railing to gaze across the magnificent twilight view. The subtle scent that was Rodney teased her nose.
"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that," she chided mildly.
"Sorry." His glance was as unapologetic as his tone. "I didn't realize you were so lost in thought you didn't hear me coming. You really shouldn't get so distracted. There's no telling where there might be Genii spies lying in wait."
"Bates decided this world was safe or we'd never have come."
"Yes, well..." He shifted his feet uncomfortably.
"It still bothers you, doesn't it?"
His brows furrowed at the moon. "They killed two of our people, took us hostage, raided our supplies and nearly sank Atlantis. Recall the last time we were together at a railing overlooking the water like this."
It was one of the many visions of horror that had haunted her nightmares since she'd come to this galaxy. Too easily she could remember the helplessness and desperation she'd felt when their captor had thrust Rodney against the grounding station's rail, intent on throwing the astrophysicist into the churning waves. She knew the harsh tone of Rodney's voice was not aimed at her.
"Yes, Elizabeth, it still bothers me," he continued. "You and I and Dr. Corrigan are the only ones on this cruise. If anything were to happen to you, it's not Corrigan who'd get the blame."
She placed a reassuring hand on his arm, the arm that the Genii had stabbed when they'd tortured him. At least the physical wound had healed well, with no damage to his manual dexterity. How many times had their survival depended on his skilled, sure hands? "You should try not to let what happened with the Genii taint your vision of everyone else we meet."
He gave her a look she couldn't quite read. Most of the time he was as transparent as glass to her, but this was something too complex to be conveyed by a single expression. Elizabeth gave his arm a pat and smiled before pulling her hand away. "Try to enjoy yourself a little."
With a blink, the look was gone, replaced by a tightlipped grin. "That's easy for you to say. You don't have to wear a tie." He fidgeted with his collar.
"This is the first time I've seen you with one." It had been so long since she'd seen anyone in a suit that she wasn't sure if it was the formal wear or seeing Rodney in it that made the scene surreal, so like Earth yet so alien.
"An advantage of my job is that no one expects you to dress like a business exec." The loose ends of his tie flapped in the breeze. "I'm lucky I even brought a suit. I wasn't thinking of diplomatic socializing when I was packing for Pegasus."
"You carry it off like a pro." Despite his occasional social faux pas, she had been impressed with how well he'd handled himself. "You look nice, Rodney. You should wear a tie more often."
He gave her another look she couldn't quite read, but the depth of it caused an unexpected tremor to run through her.
Looking away, he said, "They've started the motors. I guess we're heading back to shore, now."
Elizabeth followed his gaze across the moonlit water. It was difficult to believe they had to worry about life-sucking monsters while experiencing such a serene setting. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"Yes. In Atlantis, I never really have the time to just enjoy the view."
"An advantage of my job is that it occasionally offers time to contemplate between crises."
That got a chuckle out of him.
They stood silently for a few minutes, just letting the water roll past. In the increased breeze, she was grateful for his jacket; her own suit was intended for indoor use only.
"You never take it off, do you?"
Elizabeth turned to find him staring at her intently. "Excuse me?"
He looked back across the lake, his hand gesturing to his neck. "Your pendant."
She hadn't realized she'd been holding it in her fingers.
"You must love him very much," he said quietly.
She was so startled by his statement and its wistfulness, it took a moment before she found the words to respond. "Yes, I do."
"What's his name?" Rodney had that tone he used when feigning disinterest.
"Richard."
His hands moved in an ambiguous gesture. "That's a nice, manly name."
"Richard Weir."
He turned to her with shock in his eyes. "You've never said... But...you don't wear a ring..."
"I've never heard that wearing a ring for your father was a custom in Canada." Her tone was light, but she watched him closely.
"Father?" Rodney's expression took on that doubtful yet hopeful look he got when considering a possibility that hadn't occurred to him.
"It was my college graduation present." She turned to him and pulled the pendant further out so she could glimpse it just below her chin. "He said it was to help me remember three things: to always keep my eye on the heart of an issue; to never forget that even the most hard-boiled politician has a heart; and to trust myself."
Looking up, Elizabeth found a myriad of emotions vying for dominance on Rodney's face. Envy and longing lost out to relief as a lopsided grin spread across his lips. "He sounds like a great guy."
"He is," she smiled, "though that makes it difficult for other men to measure up."
"I suppose that might explain why someone like you is..." Apparently Rodney though better of his words halfway through. The fingers of one hand made a peculiar nervous twitch, and he looked away from her. With a cough, he tried to change the subject. "We should probably go back in."
Amused, she stepped closer so it would be difficult for him to avoid her eyes. "Why someone like me is what, Rodney?" she asked neutrally.
He tried to step back but a bend in the railing stopped him.
"Rodney?" She put a hint of impatience in her voice.
Trapped, he met her gaze with misery. "Why you're still single," he gulped. Even with just the moonlight, she could see color in his cheeks.
Cocking an eyebrow, she slid the jacket from her shoulders and handed it to him then turned to go back into the brightly lit cabin.
"Elizabeth..." He sounded so forlorn it caused her heart to skip a beat and brought her to a halt. She hadn't expected him to take it so seriously.
"I didn't mean..." She felt him come close behind her. "I just thought..." Wasn't that where he always was? Standing behind her, supporting her.
"You just thought...?" Why was she so reluctant to face him but seemingly determined to have him say something even more revealing?
"You're too remarkable to be alone."
There was a quiet intensity to his voice she'd never heard before. It sent a shiver through her. Some part of her regretted not seeing his face as he said this, while another part of her was relieved. She knew enough to appreciate he was a lonely man, and she was a big part of his life. His interest wasn't a surprise, but she relied on their comfortable working relationship. Anything more would complicate things. Yet if she was afraid of complications, why hadn't she taken the conversational out he'd offered her earlier? It was as though she had guided him to this. What did she want from him?
"It's all right," she said, more for herself than for him. "I was only teasing."
"Oh." How could he express so much uncertainty with a single syllable?
It wasn't like her to avoid a problem, though she really shouldn't think of Rodney as a problem. What was at the heart of this issue?
Elizabeth turned to find a pained look in his eyes. It took restraint not to reach for him, to resist the urge to offer him assurance. In a moment, he hid his expression beneath one of cold rigidity that he often used when faced with a difficult conflict. She had never been on the receiving end of that look before. It hurt.
"I need you, Rodney." She didn't want him to close himself off from her. "Every one of us is invaluable to our success and survival, but I need you more than anyone else here. I'm just not in a position to..."
"You don't have to explain yourself to me." His voice was flat, his gaze stony.
"You're right; I don't. But I want you to understand..." Reaching out, she touched his arm, unconsciously seeking the scar through the fabric of his shirt. He'd been through as much as she had and more, but unlike her, it seemed his break from Earth had been a clean one. "I did leave someone behind, Rodney. On top of everything we've had to face here, I've been struggling with that, too."
There was a spark of emotion in his eyes, but he looked away too quickly for her to be sure of what it was. She couldn't help noticing how thick his lashes were.
"I feel as though...if I give up on him, I'll be giving up on any hope of our returning. I'm not ready to do that yet. I'm not ready to let go." She squeezed his arm, and some objective facet of her id appreciated the fine tone of the muscles beneath her fingers. "I know it's not fair, but please try to understand. I can't afford there to be discord between us. I can't do this without you."
"I may not know what it's like," he said with a sad smile, eyes downcast, "but I think I can understand."
Was he more bothered because she had someone back home or because he didn't? Either way, seeing him like that, knowing she was partially to blame, it made her feel ill. "Rodney, look at me."
With the sound of a door opening, Elizabeth withdrew her hand from Rodney's arm. Dr. Corrigan poked his head outside. "Dr. Weir, Dr. McKay, we're almost to shore." If the anthropologist sensed he'd interrupted a private moment, he gave no sign of it. "They're expecting us to begin the formal farewells."
"Of course," Elizabeth nodded, "We'll be there in a moment."
Dr. Corrigan bobbed his head and returned inside, closing the door behind him.
Turning back to Rodney, she found him slipping on his jacket. "Don't worry, Elizabeth." The indifferent smirk he wore didn't reach his eyes. "It won't affect my work."
"Rodney..."
"I didn't mean to make things more difficult for you than they already are."
"You haven't," she began, then stopped because it wasn't wholly true. If she hadn't wanted to know, why had she led them into this conversation? "You can't help it if you feel..."
"If you say so." His tone was light, but his stride was stiff as he walked past her to the door. "We should get going."
"Just...give me time."
Rodney turned back to her with an open, honest smile. "I'll give you anything you need, Elizabeth, no matter what."
The simple sincerity of his words hit her surprisingly hard. For a moment, it was as though her heart had forgotten how to beat, her lungs how to breathe. "I may hold you to that," she whispered.
He nodded, opening the door for her, and they returned to their roles as diplomats of Atlantis.
Together with Dr. Corrigan, they followed the local protocols of formal farewells. Rodney conducted himself flawlessly; no one would suspect he'd just exposed his heart to her. But he had, and she was left pondering vital questions she'd been trying to avoid. How long would she wait before letting go of the past? How long until she fully accepted the reality of this new life and the people in it?