War and Peace


John Sheppard closed the heavy volume and held it for a moment between his hands. He traced the title carefully with an index finger. War and Peace. Pretty much the story of his life. John's lips quirked up at the corners for just a second before settling into a grim line.

Five years. Five long years of war and death and fighting to stay alive during which he still managed to find moments to return to the world of Tolstoy's mammoth novel about people and events strangely similar in ways to his own. Minus the life-sucking aliens of course.

John grimaced and began to flip through the book, choosing pages at random.

“What Tolstoy was trying to say, John, was that a revered leader like Alexander can inspire his troops to acts of heroic self-sacrifice.” Elizabeth Weir's gaze left the placid ocean scene in front of her and settled on Sheppard's frowning face.

John's hand slashed the air. “Self-sacrifices they should have been willing to make themselves. That's what a good leader does. And correct me if I'm wrong, Elizabeth, but didn't Tolstoy also try to show those heroes as ordinary men? Like when he had Tsar Alexander standing alone out in that field. You said yourself that was symbolic.”

Admitting defeat, Elizabeth nudged his shoulder with hers and went back to contemplating the vast ocean around them, gathering her forces for a future argument.

Sheppard squinted at one of his scrawled notes in the book and grinned in spite of himself.

I don't think the nuns at St. Catherine's would have liked this book.

When asked about his notation, John replied. “He seems to be all over the place with the religious bits. First a character is devout then they doubt, then they're not so sure...”

“Yes but he does make you think about the place of religion now doesn't he?” Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at him and he had to admit she had a point.

The buzz of a frantic voice in his ear ended the debate on religion rather abruptly as he and Elizabeth scrambled to respond, leaving Tolstoy's masterpiece abandoned on the floor of John's quarters.

Flipping ahead to a later section, John recalled a warm day when life in the ancient city of Atlantis was unusually quiet. He and Elizabeth had taken their lunches onto a balcony and over chicken salad and canned peaches had analyzed another important element of War and Peace.

Elizabeth swallowed her last slice of peach and used her napkin to blot the juice from her chin. “See, I think Tolstoy did quite a bit of exploring of the unpredictable irrationality of historical events.”

“In what way?” John finished stuffing their trash in a paper bag and closed it tight.

“Well, he seemed to think that no one has any control over the tiny chains of cause and effect that make up history. Sometimes things happen for no particular reason or victories occur against seemingly insurmountable odds for which there is no logical explanation.”

“Sounds like us and the Wraith.”

Sheppard held the page sideways and read a note he had printed in the margin.

Maybe there is a God after all.

The inevitable discussion of war and peace had ended in a stalemate with both participants pointing out that the book was as much about one as the other.

“For your information, Colonel, Tolstoy was one of the world's great pacifists. His ideas influenced Gandhi himself.”

“Oh well, in that case, of course you're right. We should just throw up our hands and all sing Kum Bah Ya.”

“I'm not saying we should never defend ourselves...”

“You're saying wars are destructive and just lead to more wars, I know. But sometimes you just gotta kick somebody's ass.”

John smiled. The look on Elizabeth's face when he had stubbornly refused to see her side of the argument had been worth pretending to be mad. She had finally told him how thick headed and lacking in logic he was and how violent movies and video games had probably warped him for life. John pointed out to her that the plethora of historical dramas and PBS specials had done the same for her and then laughed when she punched him on the arm and stomped out of her own office leaving him sitting on the corner of her desk.

“Did you ever have a yellow dress, Elizabeth?”

John asked the question without thinking. It just came into his head as he was flipping through the section they were discussing looking for a reference to prove his point. His glance fell on the part where Natasha was running, carefree and beautiful, in her yellow dress with the sun on her face and her eyes shining. And he wondered if his beautiful boss had ever been so carefree and in love.

“Natasha is quite the coquette isn't she?” Elizabeth smiled wistfully. “But alas, not destined for Andrew I'm afraid.”

“No, but she does end up happy with what's his name.”

“Pierre”

“Whatever. If you ask me, the whole love plot could have been left out which would have shortened the damn thing considerably.” John scanned the next few pages with an exaggerated look of disgust.

“Why Colonel, don't you know love makes the world go round?”

“Maybe, but this bunch sure went about it the hard way.”

Elizabeth abandoned her chair and went to gaze out the window at the nightscape of the city. She didn't speak for a moment and John was beginning to get nervous that he had said something wrong. But then she turned back toward him and said softly. “ Sometimes the hard way is the only way there is.”

She looked back out the window and John thought the moment had passed. But then she began to speak again, so softly he was afraid to breathe in case he missed what she was saying.

“If I had a yellow dress...” Elizabeth's breath caught for a moment before she could continue. “If I had a yellow dress, I would ask you to play for me while I danced barefoot in the moonlight. It would be...such a...such a memory.”

John waited quietly, afraid to try to speak and hoping she would say more but Elizabeth shook her head and laughed. “That silly Natasha must be rubbing off on me.” She waved a hand in dismissal and the moment passed.

Remembering now, John realized that had been the last time they had passed a quiet hour or two discussing life and war and philosophy and ignoring the very real feelings that were growing between them. Now he closed the book and waved his hand over the crystals that opened his door.

It was a warm morning. A day when many of the city's inhabitants were enjoying a much needed day of leisure, but John neither noticed not acknowledged the greetings from those he passed in the halls. He gripped the book that he had finally finished reading tightly and headed with purpose to a balcony on the west side of the city.






* * * *


Teyla Emmagen paused at the open door of Dr. Rodney McKay's lab, reluctant to interrupt the two scientists who were tapping furiously on their laptops and muttering to themselves. After a moment, Dr. Radek Zelenka raised his head and peered in her direction.

“Teyla,” he said, pushing up his glasses and straightening on his stool. “Can we help you with something?”

McKay continued to type, ignoring them both.

Taking a step into the room and raising the plastic bag she was holding in one hand, Teyla smiled. “I am sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping I might have a moment of Rodney's time.”

Hearing his name, Dr. McKay looked in her direction with a frown. “Yes, yes, what is it now? Oh, Teyla, I didn't see you there?”

Teyla moved gracefully into the room and stopped by the table next to Rodney. She reached into the bag and removed an object with care. Rodney and Radek looked at the sodden mess in her hands with identical puzzled expressions.

“Kanaan and I were fishing off the west pier when this came sailing over our heads and into the water below. Not knowing what it was, Kanaan used his net to remove it from the water.”

Both scientists were still giving her discovery a disgusted look.

“I believe,” Teyla continued, “that this belongs to Colonel Sheppard. Is it customary among your people to throw books into the ocean when you have finished reading them?”

Teyla turned the pages so that the title was visible. War and Peace.

“Huh.” Rodney reached out for the book, reluctant to touch the wet, torn pages. With a finger he turned a few sections that had become stuck together. Even though the ink had run he could see notes in the margins of some pages. “Huh,” he repeated and began to look through the book in earnest.

Radek and Teyla stood on either side of him and neither commented as some of the notes became readable. It was apparent that someone had read the book with care and had made notes on things that interested the reader or things that brought up questions.

Why is this guy such a prick? Ask Elizabeth.

Is this one of those motifs Elizabeth was talking about?

These people need to get over it and get on with it.

Radek chuckled at that last one and earned a glare from Rodney.

The three friends exchanged glances and Rodney put the book down. “It looks like...um...Sheppard and Elizabeth were discussing the book. I guess now that she's ...you know...gone...”

Radek pushed his glasses up and looked away and Teyla gently returned the book to the plastic bag, twisting the top closed around her find.

“I think I will attempt to dry this somewhat.” She moved toward the door. “Perhaps there will come a time when John will be able to look at it again with fond memories.”

Rodney and Radek nodded. “Perhaps. Thank you Teyla, you're a good friend.” Rodney swallowed the lump in his throat and watched as the Athosian turned and made a silent retreat.

“Now let's get back to work.” McKay's voice had turned suddenly raspy as he gave Radek a slight push toward his side of the table. “These equations won't solve themselves you know.”



* * * *


The door to John Sheppard's quarters swooshed open and he hurried inside. Intending to grab his laptop and head up to a meeting with Lorne's team, Sheppard didn't at first notice the cool breeze coming from the open balcony door. A billowing curtain alerted him and he stopped in his tracks.

“What the hell?” He wondered. “Did I leave the door open?”

But the unexpected sight before him stopped all conscious thought completely. An apparition stepped into the room from the tiny balcony and turned to face him.

“Hello John.”

She looked the same but different somehow. The same chocolate brown curls brushing her shoulders. The same clear green eyes. The same. But it couldn't be her. Not again.

“Elizabeth.” John barely breathed her name, unconsciously taking a step backwards.

“Yes John. It's me. The real me. I hope I didn't startle you, but you see I asked to be sent here. I forgot about the lack of clothing part.”

She adjusted the blanket which had fallen off one shoulder. “I grabbed this off your bed. I hope you don't mind.”

John was opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He glanced from the bed to her and noticed how the blanket wrapped loosely around her body and trailed behind her on the floor.

He shrugged and turned his head sideways, hands on hips. “What is it this time? Are you a clone or a machine or some damn thing that wants to kill me? Or is this the part where I pinch myself or blink and you disappear?”

Elizabeth shook her head. “Not this time. I descended John. The Ancients had enough of me I guess. They said I asked too many questions. Can you believe that?”

A slight smile. “Now that I can believe.” John took a step closer. “Descended? That means you ascended at some point.”

She nodded and adjusted her blanket. “When Oberoth had finished interrogating me I ascended. It was a bit confusing.”

John winced at the word interrogating but let it pass. Suddenly his ear piece buzzed and Richard Woolsey's voice filled his ear.

“Colonel Sheppard, will you be joining us?”

“Uh, something has come up of an urgent nature. I'll fill you in...uh...later.” John ended the call before Woolsey could reply and immediately tapped his ear again.

“Teyla, please respond.” He said.

“Yes, Colonel Sheppard how may I help you?”

“Uh, Teyla, could you please grab a set of clothing from uniform storage and bring it to my quarters?”

Elizabeth had turned and was looking back out toward the view of the city from the balcony. Her blanket had slipped again and a smooth expanse of white shoulders was evident.

Distracted and looking like he couldn't decide whether to bolt from the room or close his eyes until his visitor went away, John asked Teyla to repeat her question.

“I am sorry John, but there are a variety of sizes of uniforms. Are these garments for you...or...”

“No, no. You'll know when you get here. Just get something for a woman. Medium shirt I'd say. Uh, pants for someone taller than you and...you know...uh... the rest.”

“You mean undergarments?” Teyla's voice had an amused quality.

“Just bring them now please. Sheppard out.”

Elizabeth could sense that John was not yet entirely comfortable with the reality of the situation, so while waiting for Teyla she tried to keep the conversation as neutral as possible. She asked about everyone she could think of, taking a moment to absorb the news about Teyla's son, Carson's return, Rodney's relationship with Dr. Keller and the fact that she had been replaced by, of all people, Richard Woolsey.

“I wanted to know what was happening here, even asked to be allowed to see but they wouldn't agree. I had no idea things had changed so much.”

John had thrust his hands in his back pockets and was beginning to relax a little.

“But what about you?” Elizabeth began. “How are things with you?”

John's posture stiffened and he flailed around for some way to give her an answer. What could he say? Nothing has changed. Everything is different. Every night I lie awake going back over how I could have, might have saved you. Every day I go through my duties like a sleep walker.

“I'm fine,” he said softly. Then cleared his throat and repeated the words louder. The soft chime of the door bell was a welcome interruption.

John stepped aside and allowed Teyla Emmagan to enter the room. Upon seeing Elizabeth she nearly dropped the bundle she was carrying.

“Elizabeth!” A huge smile broke out on her face. Looking to John for confirmation, Teyla hesitated. “Is it really you? How did you get here?”

“It's a long story, but yes Teyla it's really me. And I'm very glad to be home.”

Teyla immediately dropped the stack of clothing on the bed and rushed to embrace her friend. “Welcome home my dear friend. It is so good to see you.”

John sidled toward the door. “If you two are going to get all weepy, I'm going to go..uh...brief Woolsey.”

Teyla gave the departing Colonel a wry look. “Give him time Elizabeth,” she whispered, “the last few years have been very difficult for him.”

“I sensed that.” Elizabeth pulled back and reached for the articles of clothing Teyla had brought for her. “Why don't you fill me in while I get dressed.”

“I can do better than that.” Teyla began. “I have something for you that will explain a lot. Why don't I go get it while you finish dressing?”

When John returned, Elizabeth was once again alone. She was holding a large beaten-up looking book with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Is everything okay here?” John came into the room hesitantly, looking around for Teyla. “Because we only have a minute before Woolsey, a medical team and a squad of Marines descend on us.”

Elizabeth dropped the book to her knees and looked up with a wistful smile. “She responded to a call from Kanaan. Evidently, Torren needs his lunch.”

John's mouth quirked up on one side. “He's a growing boy.”

Noticing the book, John gave her a questioning look and she turned it so he could read the title.

“Is that my...how did you?”

“Evidently Teyla rescued it from a watery death and has been saving it for you.”

“Oh,” John managed to look both embarrassed and uncomfortable. “I finished reading it and then...”

“Threw it into the ocean.”

John shrugged. “Well, since my book club partner was no longer around, I didn't see any reason to hang onto it.”

“You know John, we never did finish our discussion about religion.”

“Not to mention what's her name's love life.”

Elizabeth set the volume aside and came to stand before him. He unfolded his arms and let them drop to his sides. For a moment they studied each other's features not speaking.

“I dreamed about the yellow dress once,” she said.

“Was I there?”

“You were indeed. We were on a beautiful white sand beach at sunset. You were playing your guitar. Something soft and vaguely country.” She waved a hand and he chuckled.

“Probably Cash. I've been practicing Girl From The North Country.”

“And I was dancing barefoot,” she went on as if he hadn't spoken. “Then the moon came out and the stars filled the sky and I kept dancing and you were smiling like I've never seen...”

John reached for her then and pulled her into his arms. Her arms went around him and she pressed her face against his chest. His heart was beating strong and steady, if a little fast. And then they both knew she was really home.