TITLE: Commune Bonum
E-MAIL: eli @ popullus.net
RATING: PG
POSTED: March 22, 2005
NOTES: Elizabeth's not doing what she expected in Pegasus. Thanks to Pouncer for the beta.
DISCLAIMER: Read
Every once in a while -- when she wasn't soothing one re-ruffled ego or tracking down another possibly critical detail -- Elizabeth would daydream.
The usual dreams were featured, of course: biking out of Georgetown, up north and up high along the canal; lying at one end of the couch, the sun falling over her shoulder onto the Sunday Outlook section in her hands and her feet tucked warm under Simon's leg; a bath, maybe bubbles, but uncounted minutes to soak until the water itself drove her out. They were silly dreams of things she could replace easily enough with new realities. She did manage to get real dirt under her nails again by accompanying Teyla to the mainland the other week, after all. That trip, beyond emphasizing the absolute resourcefulness and surprising security of the Athosians, had Elizabeth thinking about trying to add a garden -- a window-pot, more realistically -- to her quarters. It was those little, inconsequential, unessential things that she naturally missed. Things she built up in her head, just as much as she ever had when she was on an extended assignment where headaches and meetings in every sense of both words were what ruled her days. Which was essentially what she was dealing with now; she had no trouble remembering that.
But that was where the other daydreams came in. Because "essentially" wasn't the same as "exactly," and she had to admit, to herself at least, that there were times when she chafed at that difference.
All of her training, all of her experience, all of those years spent bargaining with and arguing against other viewpoints and cultures for what she thought was right and necessary, and...
Yes, there was an element of that in leading this expedition; corralling all of those different perspectives toward a single, really mind-boggling goal. They were trying to decipher the knowledge of the Ancients. They had found Atlantis. And she, somehow, had to focus all of these talented people without losing the invaluable advantage of their instinct and genius. Without letting them regress into the bickering camps of a high school cafeteria or Security Council closed session, either. Elizabeth had always known that management and diplomacy were more than kissing cousins, and she still smiled remembering when that lesson had come back to her: When it had flashed through her mind that she had never resorted to personal violence before, and she damn well wasn't going to let Kavanagh have the distinction of pushing her to that point.
Every time another team went through the gate, she denied a tug of anticipation, though. Every time another report landed on her desk, there was a moment of regret. Every time she found herself biting back queries or suggestions in another briefing, because she didn't know the situation better than the team sitting around her -- she didn't actually know anything, not having been face to face with any of the people they've formed relationships with in these last few months -- that was when she folded her arms on the table and reminded herself that she was filling a new role.
Meeting the Athosians had been more of an accident than anything else. Their evacuation and continued presence certainly hadn't been planned, no matter how much she appreciated that they were there now. And she did appreciate them, all of them, not only Teyla. They were what connected her to the greater reality of her team's quest. They were the people, standing in for Earth and all of humanity spread through two galaxies, that would benefit from whatever her team was able to glean from the Ancients. She had laughed out loud, standing in the middle of the control room, when she'd realized that. Grodin had given her a sidelong look but, thankfully, hadn't asked if she were tired or insane. Now she consciously tried to think each day about how soothing it was to have that touchstone nearby.
She had faced the imprisoned Wraith deliberately. When Major Sheppard formally reported the capture to Doctor Weir, she had felt strongly enough that she needed to at least see this enemy -- see this race that had driven the Ancients away and continued to loom over Pegasus like a bird of prey poised over a favorite pond -- that she'd been truly relieved that there was one thing she hadn't needed to fight him on. She had been even more relieved that John didn't allow her to face that Wraith alone, though, and after ten heartbeats and an unbroken glare, she had left all the questioning to others. It wasn't cowardice, she told herself over and over, it was a calculated decision to leave the task to those most likely to succeed.
The Genii attempt to capture the city had been...comforting, as odd as that might seem, she had reflected one day. Their actions, the blinders they had consciously placed on themselves through their focus, were frustrating but familiar. As the storm grew from threat to nightmare, and Rodney struggled with the grounding station, she had been truly terrified and absolutely furious. She knew how that game of self-interest worked. She'd seen it in action and she knew how to counter it. But she had never gotten a chance to counter it, not really. All of her efforts were meager ones. Just whatever she could do in between trying to keep Koyla from killing her and Rodney as easily as he had killed two good men. Men who had been no different than any others, except they had been the ones on watch that day. But now the Genii were people she had met, and they were people she knew. She had no doubt that would matter in the future.
That was it, though. Those three groups: the Athosians, the Wraith, the Genii. They represented the sum total of her personal interaction with the peoples of the Pegasus galaxy. She was a diplomat and negotiator, and a damn good one. One who had been responsible for brokering deals and partnerships among nations and people who had fought for decades, if not longer. And now she was spending far too much precious time worrying not about forming connections with all of these new cultures, but about how to make sure her own people -- who were the best, the absolute best that could be found, at what they did -- didn't do themselves in because of infighting or inattention.
She had the big picture, she reminded herself, the strategic overview. She was the one with all of the snippets of conversations jotted down and photographic records. Details that got lost in the immediacy of the moment and the mission. And she was really the only one with the experience to extrapolate from those static pieces and the dynamic briefings what guidance the teams needed. She was more than qualified to tell them what they had to do when they returned to those planets and people that she would probably never see.
Still, she missed the opportunity to do what she was best at, sometimes.
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