Worry About You -- Ivy

Bye bye baby

Don't be long

I worry about you

While you're gone

I think of you in my dreams

You never know just what you mean

To me

Elizabeth

Again, I feel someone watching me. Glancing up, I see John standing just outside my office. He's still pale, and looks tired, leaning against the door frame, head bowed. Did he just stagger? "John? Are you okay?" I rise from my chair behind the desk.

I watch him seemingly collect himself. "I'm fine." Then he raises his head. I see pain and relief at war in his green eyes, but he still did not enter my office.

As I stand before him, I want to put my arms around him and guide him to the nearest chair. However, I know he wouldn't stand for it. So I try a different approach. "Why don't you sit down," I say, trying not to sound overly concerned.

He finally moves toward me. Slowly. Stiffly. I though he looked bad earlier, but now in the full light of my office – "You look terrible." The words come out before I can stop them. So I press on. "Why aren't you resting? Does Carson know you're here?" Words just keep tumbling out of my mouth.

He gives a strained laugh. "Just saw him. Really. I'm fine." A familiar smile is on his face, one designed to mask his pain. "I was just checking up on ya, ya know, seein' if everything was okay."

Now, he's staring at me; his eyes watching me closely. I feel like I'm being interrogated. Two can play that game. As my mask of calm automatically slips into place, I suddenly decide on telling the truth. Secretly, I hope John will get the picture that he doesn't have to be so stoic. And maybe he'll leave me and go to bed. "To be honest, I am exhausted. As a matter of fact, I was just about to turn in for the night."

He seems surprised, with his brows bouncing. "Good!" Ahem. "Good. Let me walk you to your room." He pauses awkwardly. "If that's all right."

Feeling a smile creep up, I give in. I really don't want him to move from the chair, but he has to get to bed. Carson will have my head if he passes out anywhere but his room. "Of course it's all right, John." I hold out my hand to him, wondering if he'll take it or put on another brave face.

Again he surprises me and takes my hand. I hear his breath catch just as he stands, and very, very briefly, I see pain and exhaustion cloud his eyes. In an instant, it's gone. I've never bruised my ribs, so I can't begin to imagine what he's going through, and it's not the first time it's happened since I've known him either.

"Thanks," he says breathlessly.

As we approach the stairs, I notice the slightest hesitation. Walking slowly, I hope he knows he doesn't have to rush. I steal a glance; he seems to be concentrating on walking. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot.

I clear my throat, nervously, wondering if I should bring up anything relating to the last mission. But I soldier on. "You may remember a little planet we call R3F-269?"

He can't possibly get any whiter, but he does attempt it. Then his face relaxes. "Hmmm. Would that be the one with or without the dissident locals?"

Hoping to keep the mood light, I scrunch up my face pretending to think about his question. "That would be with. Would you believe they want to talk again?"

Now his eyebrows have disappeared under his unruly mop. "Really? I'm amazed. Do we need to bring gloves? 'Cause I'm always up for another match."

I roll my eyes dramatically. "Actually, they sent their humblest apologies, and even a peace offering." Her hands are clasped lightly behind her back as she ponders the corridor. "And, not only are they going to give us free access to those ruins, they actually want to talk to you. It seems they've never seen someone – how did he put it? – 'as scrawny as that Sheppard take down so large a person.' Impressed, I guess." I rounded my eyes at him.

"Did it with only two, count 'em, two hits," he says, holding up two fingers.

Eventually, we gain my quarters, and he gives a over cheerful, "Here we are!"

"Why thank you, kind sir," I say, hoping to keep the mood light, giving his arm a light squeeze. But I know he's only standing through sheer force of will. Stubborn. "Now, you go straight to bed, before you fall down or something." My hand finds the palmplate to open my door. Sometimes, I wish I could open doors and turn on lights and gadgets with my mind. I've seen John do it; often he doesn't realize it until someone says something.

I turn to give a final good night, but he's lingering, even more distracted than earlier. Finally, he looks at me, eyes pleading.

"Forgive me," he says in a rush.

What? "What?" To say I was surprised would be an understatement. So serious a statement now.

He takes a slow, deliberate breath. "Forgive me. What happened the other day shouldn't have. You were not supposed to get hurt. But when I saw that guy take a swing at you, I lost control, and I'm really sorry." Suddenly, he leans against the wall just beside my door, spent.

Allowing this to sink in, I choose my words carefully. "Why would I need to forgive you, John?" Looking into his weary eyes, I search for a deeper meaning. I don't know why, but I have to know where this is leading. However, he looks away. I'm losing him to his constant guilt.

"Don't think for a minute when things go wrong that it's your fault. I mean, it didn't really hurt, but it did surprise me. Actually, it hurts more now than when it happened, but–" I say, hoping that he will look at me again. But he has the most horrific look on his pale, pale face. Uh oh! "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Really, it's not your fault. Not the Wraith. Not Ford."

Ah! That got his attention. "Or anyone who doesn't come back alive. We've embarked on the riskiest venture of our lives. You knew that, we all knew that. You will not blame yourself for anything. If anyone is to blame, it's me." He starts to protest, and I quiet him with a raised hand. "I hate that you put your life on the line to save everyone. I can't even begin to imagine what you have to deal with on a daily basis. But let me worry about everyone else. You just get back here as safely as you can with as many people as you can. Are you listening to me?"

I wonder briefly if there's a place on his body that doesn't ache. Sighing, I place my hand lightly on his arm, feeling him tense, like a bird ready for flight.

His eyes are closed now, head bowed. After another deep cleansing breath, he raises it; the mask has been set in place again. It slips for a moment, then returns, his face expressionless. "Please," he says in a monotone. "Just say you'll forgive me."

I can do nothing but stare back at him. How can I console him? Quickly, I move closer to him and wrap my arms round his thin waist, fairly certain I've avoided any major injuries. I want to comfort him, and I found myself stroking his back. Isn't that what mothers do for their children who are hurting?

Leaning slightly away, I try to find his eyes again. They are guarded and shadowed. I give a hopeful smile. "You are always forgiven, John. Releasing him, I step into my darkened room. "Now, I may not agree with you on some things. But we trust each other to make the right decisions." A light comes on before I can do anything, surprising me for a second. See! I wish I could do that! "You're getting good at that. Now go to bed. Right now." I raise my trademark brow, and give a crooked smile. "I mean it. Don't make me call Carson." I moved towards the door to close it when he leaves.

Finally, he smiles. "Don't think I'm not already in trouble. Good night, Elizabeth. Sweet dreams." He comes away from the wall stiffly and says, "Let me get that." He gives a wink, and the door whispers shut, and he is gone.

For a moment, I stare at the closed door. I worry so much about him, but I cannot be his guardian. Sooner or later, he will have to go on another mission, and possibly into another altercation. Just exploring the city is dangerous by itself. But honestly, I wish I knew exactly what goes through that head of his.

I still have no regrets regarding my decision to lead this expedition, or convincing John Sheppard to join us. Turning away, I fold my arms and stare at my bed, ready to deal with the next obstacle. Sleep.

I suddenly yawn, and decide to crawl into bed right then. I'll change later. I kick off my shoes, and fold myself under the soft covers. As my eyes start to close, I ponder the fact that we have created a family out here. Trillions of light-years away from our birthplace, we all have to make due. We have the Daedalus, but we always come back to Atlantis.

She is our home now.