AN: Set just over a minute after the last scene of “Before I Sleep”. Much love to PurpleYin and Nebulan, without whom I might not have been inspired for this chapter.

Also, if anyone else is alive out there, let me know if you like or dislike this fic. Please.

Pacing was a skill that Rodney McKay had perfected to a superb, if clinical, art. Hands wearing holes in the pockets of his pants, he fussed for a few more minutes, just a few he promised, before making calculated moves towards the balcony. He stopped dead again and backed up two – just two! – steps, retrieving one hand to tap at his chin thoughtfully. Once the voices of the nearest intruders to his sanctum had faded, he dropped the pensive act and re-attempted his scheme.

Although, this particularly common part of Atlantis was hardly any place to turn into a sanctum, however temporary its use. Soon enough, some of the passing expedition members would figure out that he was poorly disguising an approach towards the lone figure on the balcony.

Rodney lifted his chin and bravely ventured forward towards the door. Skidding right up to the edge, he abruptly reached out to run his hand over the plexiglass, importantly jerking his head up and down several times. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes at the technician striding past him, he waited just for the right moment to announce in an important voice, “All external exits seem to be functioning properly.”

The technician made no comment, merely moving along. Rodney let out a long, deep breath.

“Rodney, did you say something?” Elizabeth asked from outside.

Sprung! Rodney coughed nervously and shuffled out onto the balcony. Securing his hands back into his pockets, he slouched his shoulders and grunted a greeting. Her lips pursed into a small smile, before her focus returned to the object in her hands. Peering over at what looked like a small brown pot, Rodney probed, “What’s that?”

“Hmm? Oh. John gave it to me. For my birthday.”

“Oh there we go,” Rodney said, disgusted, “He always has to make sure there’s an apple on the teacher’s desk before the bell goes.”

When her eyes moved back up to his face, Rodney noted with some apprehension that the usual twinkle was missing, though her eyebrows slowly shifted up her forehead. The firm lines setting around her mouth were enough warning for him, but Elizabeth merely asked, “Is this always a competition to you, Rodney?”

“What? No! Sheppard’s the one turning this into a competition. I got you a present and I made the rather impetuous decision to tell him, so he went ahead and gave you one before I had the chance.”

“Rodney.” A frustrated sigh slipped from her lips. “I don’t suppose it means much to you, but I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

Something sharp pinged against the left side of his chest. Rodney rubbed the patch of shirt over the area, perplexed, before realising that he was offended. His hands dipped back down to clench material inside his pockets until he heard and felt some of the stitches popping. He said stiffly, “Fine. I’ll try to find room in your schedule, you know, a block of free space you might feel like using to talk to me.”

Elizabeth tracked his movement towards the door, before reaching out to catch his elbow. Stride faltering, he stopped and glanced over at her, not bothering to hood the frown shadowing his features. Holding his stare evenly, she gave a gentle tug until his body grudgingly leaned towards her. She lead him out to the railing again, dropping her hand from his elbow at last to press briefly at the small of his back.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me,” she said quietly.

Rodney shifted his feet. “Understandable. I think. Are you coming to the briefing now? Sheppard said you’d be along in a minute, but I noticed that when you didn’t arrive after sixty seconds that maybe you needed me to come get you or something. Or your watch could be slow, but I guess not. This isn’t to do with you is it? I mean, the other you, the old you. Not that you – she – was too old or anything…”

“I will be fine.”

“But that means you might not be fine, you might think that you’re fine. And five years later you’ll be sitting on Heightmeyer’s special chair telling her how you weren’t actually fine.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Elizabeth acknowledged, smile breaking at last, “Thank you. I might not be fine now, but I will be. I think I will be. I have so much to look forward to, so many birthdays.”

“Hopefully not ten thousand more birthdays,” he said with a tentative grin.

The small laugh was reward enough for Rodney, and he found breathing a little easier now that the air between them wasn’t so heavy. A small twinkle lurked in the corner of her eyes as she asked, “So about this birthday present you got me…?”

“Oh. Right.” Rodney cleared his throat, feeling panic rise in his throat. “It’s in your office, but it’s not imperative or anything. You can check it out later. Briefing now, remember?”

It wasn’t until some time after Major Sheppard’s team had left through the Stargate that Elizabeth Weir managed to find her way back to her office, but the wait was well worth it. Smiling down at the standard issue mug adorning her desk, she lifted it up and read the words written neatly on a piece of masking tape that was stuck to the mug.

Property of Dr Elizabeth Weir – keep citrus products away.