My bench is lonely.

::plants an Athosian mourning-flower on Dana's bench::

But, Suela, it isn't that he doesn't trust Sam. It's that he can never again trust the military/political establishment. He knows that it doesn't matter if honorable people hold the reins *now*; the question is can they ever be replaced by the dishonorable, and he knows the answer to that.

True, Betsy. But my response is entirely felt as opposed to reasoned. Clearly the SGC would be a bad place under the control of the NID. Except I'm all, "but it's Sam, and she's apologizing and fixing things!" and I'm well-trained to trust Sam's good intentions (if not her execution of them, so much).

On the other hand, one could say that Rodney has taken his own lessons to heart: he knows precisely how far he is willing to go in protecting the human race. This far, and no farther. So, I can't fault the writing there, really.

Also also, he explicitly gave himself no out. He told Atlantis not to listen to any of them, no matter what; if she takes him seriously, she won't talk to him either.

Dana, I'll sit on your bench with you.

The thing is, the story isn't about that. It's not about John and Rodney. It's about Rodney and Atlantis, and the time he spent there, and what he does with everything he learned: from the city herself, from his team, and from John.

So, yeah, you know, sad, but not Willamakee sad.

The thing is, the story isn't about that.

That's a perfectly rational viewpoint. I am not coming from a rational place. I am coming from a DON'T HURT MY WOOBIES place.

Also, Emily's on my bench!

You know, I look at it, and I see it so much about John. John being the central character by virtue of his absence. He's not even named. Rodney's telling the story of seven years of his life, where John and Atlantis became his home; and I'm left to wonder if there's actually anything buried in that grave. Or if it's just a marker for something that was shut behind a gate.