Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters. This story was written only for fun, and I didn't make any profit of it.

Genre: angst, baby fic

Rating: T

Pairing: John/Elizabeth

A/N: this story is a continuation of "Reason #27 - I wanted to have a baby". It's set nine months after the first story.

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Handful of lazy rays of setting sun sneak its way through the tall window. The City restaurant is half filled and content, happy sounds echo through the air. People are gathered in small groups, chatting, drinking coffee or playing games. There is a group of five sitting near the window – three men, and two women, one of them hugging a very prominent, very pregnant stomach. The other four are busy playing scrabble and tossing popcorn at each other occasionally.

“So when?” asks Ronon and gives a glare to Rodney when the scientist confiscates the last popcorn bowl. The glare goes unnoticed.

“Oh, one of these days,” answers John, watching the oblivious Rodney eating popcorn. Teyla smirks

“Well not exactly,” says Elizabeth, trying to straighten up into a sitting position and then gives up, leaning back and placing her hands on her cotton covered stomach. “Tomorrow,” she announces and John turns to look at her.

“Do you know something that I don’t?” he asks and she gives him somewhat tired smile.

“Both of us know it, John. Tomorrow is exactly nine months since we…,” she does not finish because Rodney McKay starts protesting.

“Stop, stop, stop right there. I don’t need to hear…”

“What?” interjects Ronon. “She’s not big enough for you to conclude they slept together?”

Rodney gives Ronon and ugly look not even protesting when the tall man steals the popcorn bowl back.

“Geez, that was exactly what I needed to hear you say,” the scientist frowns at the grinning warrior and Teyla starts laughing. “What? What’s so funny?”

“You need to ask someone on a date, Rodney. I’m sure Doctor Brown would love that. And maybe even the new young Doctor…. What’s her name, Elizabeth?”

“You mean Jennifer Keller?” asks Elizabeth and Teyla nods. John starts chuckling because of the blush spreading over Rodney’s face.

“Have you decided on the name?” asks Teyla. Elizabeth smiles and nods.

“Yes,” she says.

“No,” says John at the same time. They exchange a pointed look and Ronon looks up from the scrabble board.

“Not again,” he groans.

“I thought we agreed on Daniel,” says Elizabeth as John frowns and shakes his head.

“I’m not naming my kid after Doctor Jackson, Elizabeth!” he says. With Effort Elizabeth straightens up and turns in his direction.

“We're not naming him after Daniel Jackson! I happen to really like the name! And I’m not naming my son after your favorite football player,” she counters as three of their friends watch the well known argument unfold.

“You can always call him Meredith,” dares Rodney and manages to make John’s jaw drop, content with the outcome.

“You,” John points at Rodney who mocks a frown and steals more popcorn, “I’m so gonna pay you back for this.”

“Be my guest,” grins Rodney smugly.

“Whatever,” says Ronon. “Just stop fighting over the damn name. After four months of this it’s really getting old.”

oOo

Some time later, as they walk toward their quarters Elizabeth suddenly steps in front of the balcony door. John knows about this spot because she told him, it’s the balcony where she stood alone nine months after the death plagued the city, and thought about all the lives she saw disappear.

She holds her hand out to him, and he takes her fingers in his, searching her face and senses her discomfort. When she looks at him he sees shadows that never truly left her at peace. Although they are happy and excited about the baby, her nightmares are still with them. Whenever she wakes in the middle of the night, with face pale and lips pressed into a thin line, John knows. He never asks what the dreams are like. The look on her face he recognizes, it is one that comes with the guilt of a survivor unable to help the people who need it.

Her arms go around his torso as much as the bump of her stomach allows. John touches it, noticing it’s hanging lower on her body. His fingers find the baby moving inside and he gently smiles.

“John?” she calls him and her voice is shaky and afraid, a contrast to serene smile she had not so long ago. The shadows inside of her bright green eyes grow deeper. His hand moves from her stomach around her back to offer support.

“What is it?” he asks.

“If I ever…,” her voice catches in her throat and her hand fists his shirt, and he knows where this is going. He knows it’s the guilt for her survival when other people ran out of luck and died, knows what she is going to ask, and irrational panic rises from the pit of his stomach. He tries to stop her from asking it, because it’s not her fault, because she deserves to be happy, she deserves this.

“Don’t. Elizabeth, don’t,” he pleads, because she is the only thing he cannot bear to lose. “We’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, our son…,” he pauses as her hands grab his shoulders, hard and almost painful.

“John, promise me.”

“Elizabeth,” he protests against the desperation in her eyes, against the premonition he knows is haunting her, but he doesn’t want to speak of. When tears start rolling down her cheeks he realizes this time she won’t let him talk his way out of this.

He swallows. His throat is burning and its tight.

“I promise,” his words fall heavy between them and something dark and merciless worms its way into him. “If… if you ever…,” she looks at him, eyes burning. She needs to hear it, he knows that, but he can’t bring that word over his lips.

She waits.

“Say it John. Please.”

“I can’t. You know… you know what I’d do.”

“I need you to say it. I need to hear it.”

Her voice is desperate. He closes and opens his eyes and tries to numb his heart, telling himself that they’ll be fine. That he’ll be there, take care of her.

“If anything happens to you… if you… if you die, our son will be safe... with me. I’ll protect him at any cost and take care of him. I swear. I will….”

This time she doesn’t let him finish and sneaks her hands under his armpits, holding him tightly. His hands hang lifeless at his sides as he can’t shake off the feeling of something dark looming over them. She shivers and he brings his hands around her, trying to assure her she is safe.

“I love you,” she breathes into his neck. Her tears dry on his skin.

“I love you too.”

oOo

John loses the track of time. The sun was there and then disappeared, and it’s dark again. It seems this will never be over.

Elizabeth seems too tired to protest against the pain of her labor, exhausted and spent. He is holding her hand and wiping the sweat away from her face. She is lying on the bed, too drained with the effort of hours passed to stand and walk with his support, and looks at him from time to time, seeking the strength in his eyes. He kisses her and starts humming again, and one song turns into another. It seems to soothe her.

She is calm, her eyes are somewhere on the ceiling, and he almost starts to sing, when her hand grips his, and she is hissing and struggling to sit up. Her face is a shade paler, and twisted in pain.

“Jen... Call Jen… call Carson,” she pants and then screams, and the sound of it rips through the air.

He nods and taps his radio, as another scream makes his blood run cold.

oOo

“Push, Elizabeth,” says Jennifer as sweat drips from her face. John looks at the Doctor, but the young woman doesn’t notice him, or anybody else apart from Elizabeth at this moment. Carson is nearby, along with some nurses, and John looks at him, and doesn’t like the fact that he can’t read his friend’s eyes, as the rest of his face is hidden behind a mask.

John doesn’t like this situation, where he is unable to help any more than holding Elizabeth’s hand and whisper things to her wondering if her mind can even register his voice through the pain. He watches her body stiffen and contract again, shivering with effort as her muscles strain to bring their child to the world, and he wonders where is she finding the strength to do it after nearly 18 hours of labor. The cramping stops and she pants for air. Her hair is damp, hanging around her face.

He removes the damp hair and she whimpers a thank you, and then another labor grabs the hold of her body. John sees Jen lean forward, eyes fixed between Elizabeth’s spread legs.

“I can see the head,” announces Jen loudly and the excitement is palpable in her tone. Nurses are there, and Carson too, they move and speak, but John doesn’t understand them over the sound of his racing heart. The young Doctor and the mother exchange a look, Jen encouraging Elizabeth; and John moves closer, allowing Elizabeth to grab more of his hand to hold on.

The last push comes with a long splitting cry. Elizabeth is almost sitting up straight, and John moves to support her with the other hand around her quivering shoulders.

And then it’s over, or so it seems, because Jen is calling out and Elizabeth pants and her muscles go slack. She falls against John’s chest, fighting for air, but something is wrong. Disoriented, he looks at Jen, who is holding his son in her hands. John doesn’t see baby’s face, but his skin is almost blue and he doesn’t evenmove. John’s mind pauses, numb and heavy panic filling his chest as Carson takes the baby, takes him away.

Everything starts to happen too quickly for John.

“Jen?” Elizabeth calls. “Jen, where is he? Why isn’t he crying?” fear is lacing Elizabeth’s voice, as Jen turns and her eyes fix at Elizabeth’s body again. Elizabeth’s plea turns into a different kind of cry, she’s trying to get up, and John instinctively holds her down, watching as two nurses hurry back toward her.

“Doctor Beckett? Doctor Beckett, she’s bleeding,” calls Jen urgently, and moves forward. John sees her bringing a mask, trying to put it over Elizabeth’s face, but Elizabeth tries to fight her.

“My son, where’s my son?!?”

In mere moments everything turns into chaos. A nurse grabs John’s shoulder and he’s being pulled on his feet and pushed away.

“Colonel, you need to get out,” says the nurse determinately looking into his eyes over the green surgical mask. All John can clearly see is Elizabeth’s face, and now, from afar, he can see blood, too much blood on the floor. Jen is shouting orders and calling repeatedly for Carson, and through the fog of his mind John realizes they are going to operate Elizabeth. Carson rushes in with hands gloved, with more green clad, hand gloved people in tow.

“My son! Why isn’t he crying? My son,” pleads Elizabeth, as two nurses hold her hands down and pin her to bed, and Jen places the mask over her face. Her struggling hand falls limp and in that moment John finally hears the baby cry, just before he is pushed outside the room.

oOo

When Jen appears in the darkened waiting room, she looks awful – drained and spent, gray in her face. Her head is still covered with green cap. Her eyes are tired. Teyla gets up, Ronon remains seated, Rodney wakes up from his stupor and moves forward from the back wall toward the young Doctor. John just looks up at Jen, barely able to hold her eyes.

Finally he gets up and braces himself for the news he might get. Somebody puts a hand on his shoulder, but he doesn’t know which one of his team is it, for he stares at Jen.

“She is alive… for now,” whispers Jen.

“And the baby?”

“He is fine. But Elizabeth's condition is still… critical. She lost a lot of blood. Her… her heart stopped at one moment. If she makes it through the night…,” Jen doesn’t finish. John nods, as more hands find their way to his shoulders and back, to hold and support him. “We hope there isn’t any infection, and…”

“I want to see her,” he says.

“What about the boy?” asks Jen and John starts to shake his head and stops halfway.

“I want to see her,” he repeats in dark voice.

oOo

The light of dawn creeps through the half pulled curtain of the infirmary window. Elizabeth still doesn’t move, lying pale and unnaturally calm on the narrow bed. John’s world is motionless and drained of color as he listens to the heart monitor that registers slow but regular beeps and John is wondering if Elizabeth is punishing herself and giving up.

He holds up her hand for the hundredth time since Jen and Carson allowed him in. He opens her palm and places his lips against the damp skin that isn’t warm enough for his liking. His fingers start to massage, but she doesn’t respond, doesn’t wake up.

If she only heard the baby cry, thinks John.

“Elizabeth, he is alive. He needs you, not me. I need you,” he whispers miserably, his eyes caressing the familiar lines of her face. “Damn it, they are not your fault,” the anger creeps into his voice. He wonders was this how she felt as she watched all those people slip away into claws of death though her helpless hands.

Somebody softly knocks and pushes the door open, and John meets Teyla’s face at the door. She’s holding a blanket wrapped bundle and he gasps.

“He needs to be fed,” says Teyla softly, walking toward him. John swallows and Teyla stops in front of him. He can’t see the baby from where he’s sitting. She’s holding a bottle of milk in her hand and John thinks it’s Elizabeth who should be feeding him.

John realizes he still doesn’t have a name. Without a name, realizes John, none of this is real.

“Why don’t you feed him?” asks John numbly but Teyla doesn’t move nor say anything for several moments.

“John, you haven’t seen your son yet,” this is where Teyla’s voice catches, and his throat tightens as he remembers his promise.

No. He doesn’t want to accept it.

No.

It’s Elizabeth who should do this. It’s Elizabeth…

As Teyla glances toward the bed the baby makes a tiny noise that makes John react. His feet react before his mind and in the next moment he stares at tiny scrunched face that looks more like Elizabeth than him. The pitch black hair is his. John’s arms reach forward and Teyla places his son into father’s hands.

He cradles the tiny body against his chest and racing heartbeat and traces the small face with a tender finger. The little boy catches it and holds tightly, and the heaviness of John’s promise settles into his chest. For a moment he ignores the fact that baby is crying and walks a semi – circle, his mind attempting to grasp the reality he found himself in.

“Sit down,” says Teyla, and her hand guide John toward the chair. When he is seated, she places the bottle into John’s hand, and soon he is feeding his son. The ice melts around his heart, revealing love, and tightening of his chest, and soaring, burning pain. He doesn’t notice when Teyla leaves the room.

oOo

When John wakes up there are voices around him, and people moving, and his son isn’t on his chest any more. With panic he sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, when a small hand finds his shoulder, and he looks up to meet Jen’s eyes. She smiles.

And then a familiar, but weak voice calls his name.

“John?”

His head snaps in the direction of the bed and meets Elizabeth’s face – pale, and tired, but alive, with a smile on her lips. He gets up and stumbles toward the bed, and grips Elizabeth's hand when she holds it out for him. It’s warm. Suddenly he turns to Jen.

“Jen? Where’s Daniel?”

“Daniel?” Elizabeth echoes and he turnes around, his throat tight as he watches Elizabeth trying to push her body up. He helps her and adjusts her pillow so she can be semi seated at best.

“I…. I thought you…,” he closes his mouth and swallows as Elizabeth’s eyes reflect the pain he feels inside his chest. He almost lost her, and for one moment, he was alone in this world. Without her.

He hurries to explain.

“It’s a good name. And after all, we have to thank Doctor Jackson for the fact that we met at all. He discovered this place and Stargate and…”

“I will be fine,” whispers Elizabeth, and this time believes it. John looks into her eyes clear of shadows.

“Here’s your son, Colonel,” John turns and meets the eyes of that same nurse who pushed him out of the infirmary. “He needed to be changed.”

John accepts the baby boy in his arms carefully and when he turns to Elizabeth and searches her face and all the emotions caught there, the rest of the world disappears. Elizabeth stares at John as he steps closer and then sits on the edge of her bed, lowering the child toward her.. When he places the baby in her hands, tears start streaming down her face. Daniel squirms in her arms, and her eyes are fixed on the tiny face.

“He looks like you,” says John and she nods, unable to speak.

“I heard him cry,” she whispers finally, her voice broken. “I… I heard him cry back there,” she looks at John. Her eyes plead forgiveness. “I knew I couldn’t leave two of you.”

John takes her face in his hands. He saw her fight there. He should have known better.

“We should name him Daniel.”

“No, I know a better name,” she is looking at him with burning gaze. “There’s a man who inspires me to fight and live and love. My son will have his name. John.”

In that moment John feels his eyes burn with tears that start streaming down his face and he doesn’t care who sees him like this, because Elizabeth is alive, and their son is alive, and they are parents now. They are a real family. He leans and kisses her with gentle passion and pulls slightly away, to look at her. Love is shining through tears from her eyes. She wipes the tears away from his face, and he feels his heart surrender and fall, and when he looks at his son in Elizabeth’s arms John knows he belongs.

Elizabeth smiles and then starts laughing quietly and he joins her, tears still flowing down his face as he watches her, here and alive.

“Then how about John Daniel Sheppard?” he suggests and she smiles.

“Yes… that sounds perfect. But I think I will call him John. It’s my favorite name in the world.”