Title: When Our Road's Dirt
Pairings: Sheppard/Weir, established
A/N: Total fluff. Yeah, that's about it. Many thanks to bailunrui of the House, M.D fandom for letting me borrow an idea from a story of hers. More on that at the end.
When Our Road's Dirt
'So, I think the best one to visit would be-'
'Did you know that I have dancing fairies in my garden?'
Rodney's gaze flew from his laptop to the man who'd interrupted him. He glanced apprehensively at Elizabeth, who sat beside him and was looking as equally surprised.
'Dr. Morrison,' Elizabeth began gently, leaning over the table slightly.
The scientist shot out of his chair as though he'd been scalded and glared down at the various personnel gathered in the room. His height made him an impressive figure.
'Will!' he half-shouted. 'Dammit, my name's Will! Why does everybody insist on calling me 'Dr. Morrison'? Don't you know it makes me feel about a hundred?'
'Okay, Will.' Elizabeth rose and gestured subtly for the others to stay still. 'What's the problem?'
'The problem is that no one understands me but the fairies. You people are good at formulas and numbers but when it comes to-' Before he finished his rant, he sank suddenly back into his chair and slumped onto the table, as though asleep. A quick tentative prod by a woman close by showed he'd truly entered a deep slumber.
The room was silent; its occupants were completely bewildered.
x . o . x . o . x . o . x
'He's fine,' Carson assured Elizabeth as they stood by Will's bed in the infirmary. 'No doubt just a lack of sleep. Nothing to worry about.'
Elizabeth nodded sceptically, peering down at the man's relaxed face. He snored on quietly, oblivious to the fuss he'd just caused.
'Thank you, Carson,' Elizabeth said, turning to leave. 'Could you inform me when he wakes up?'
'Will do.'
She slipped out into the hall and was just starting down when a pair of arms wrapped around her waist.
'Hey. Heard about the mad scientist,' a voice breathed into her ear.
'John, that tickles,' Elizabeth laughed, wriggling from his grasp. 'And he's not mad; he's just overworked.'
John shrugged and reached for her again, bending to leave a kiss on her hair. They set off together, hands firmly entwined.
'Oh, I was meaning to-'
A clatter of footsteps from behind stopped her and she reflected with a sigh that that was the second time today she'd been interrupted. Two men sprinted past.
'Hey! What's going on?' John called after them.
'Not sure,' the shorter one tossed over his shoulder. 'Something in the 'gate room.'
Without so much as sparing a glance at each other, the couple raced after them, eventually reaching a small crowd. Pushing her way to the front, with a clear 'excuse me' every now and then, Elizabeth discovered what exactly was so interesting to all those people.
It was a crudely constructed animal of some sort, made out of paper mache.
'Whoa! What the hell is that?' John burst out from a group of observers, his loud 'out of my way' having received less of a response than Elizabeth's frequent 'excuse me'.
'It's a sheep,' a man spoke up from nearby.
'A horrible one at that,' a dark-haired woman giggled. Her Australian accent was very thick. 'I've seen a few back at my cousin's farm but none as ugly as this thing.'
That brought about a round of chuckles.
'I want to know who made it. I'd like to give them a sharp slap.' She walked up to the sheep, which bore a lopsided grin and kneeled down, examining it. 'Oh my god. You know what this is supposed to be? Look.'
She pointed to a rectangle of cloth that was fixed tightly around the sheep's body, forming a sort of pouch that loosened underneath the sheep. Inside the fabric net was a miniature version of the statue.
'This is a ewe,' she burst out when no one answered. 'That's the baby. Oh god, I'm going to die. This is ridiculous. Sheep don't have pouches!'
She promptly dissolved into a fit of giggles.
Elizabeth didn't know whether to be amused, curious or disapproving. What was in the air today?
The ewe was moved to a less obtrusive corner of the 'gate room.
x . o . x . o . x . o . x
The next time she entered the 'gate room, having left for a quick check up on Will Morrison, who'd woken not long after her departure, Elizabeth found a new distraction. The place was decorated with green and red streamers and balloons. A large banner on a wall wished everyone a 'Merry Christmas'.
'What's happening here?' Elizabeth asked a technician.
'Uh, it's Christmas?' he offered.
She grinned and shook her head. A little ridiculous, considering it was nearly mid February.
The sheep had been dressed for the event too; a floppy Santa hat sat on her head and her baby had tinsel wound around its body.
'Merry Christmas!' someone shouted.
She'd have to check that it was February, and not April.
x . o . x . o . x . o . x
Elizabeth managed to fight her way past a group of carollers who'd assembled in front of the Stargate and into her office. A substantial amount of paperwork had gathered in her absence, even though, as she reflected ruefully, it had only been three hours since she'd last been in there.
The first pad of paper she picked up had seemingly random streaks of fluorescent yellow. She peered down at it and noticed every word containing 'M' and 'E' as adjacent letters was highlighted. To be more specific, it was just those two letters that were highlighted.
She flipped through the next few sheafs of paper. 'Time', 'some' and 'assume' were a few words that had fallen victim to the mysterious highlighter. Elizabeth tossed it onto her desk again. She needed a cup of coffee.
x . o . x . o . x . o . x
She entered her room, intending to grab her jacket and head back out again, hopefully to complete some work. A bouquet of flowers lay on her bed, a myriad of bright colours wrapped with tissue paper.
Elizabeth didn't need to guess who had left those for her.
A note was nestled in the blossoms; she pulled it out and smiling, read it carefully.
Love ain't so tough when our road's dirt, Elizabeth.
The smile became a puzzled frown. It was obviously John's handwriting, but it wasn't something he'd write. And it barely made sense.
She placed her flowers in a vase Teyla had given her. The note went into her pocket.
x . o . x . o . x . o . x
'Have you noticed that today has been a little strange?' Elizabeth asked, leaning back in her chair.
'How so?' Kate Heightmeyer replied. She stuck her pen back into its holder and left her desk to join Elizabeth at the armchairs.
'All these little surprises, like the sheep and the sudden appearance of the Christmas decorations. I have the feeling that something I'm not aware of is going on.'
'I suppose so. It's all quite harmless though, so I doubt there's any need to worry about it.'
'I know; you're right.' Elizabeth paused, before showing Kate the note she'd found from John. 'Does this sound strange to you?'
Kate's forehead lined with wrinkles as she scrutinised the tiny scrap.
'Well-'
Before she could continue, Elizabeth bolted out of her chair.
'Let me see that,' she said hurriedly, snatching back the paper.
Her eyes flickered over each word before settling on Kate.
'I know what's going on.'
And she dashed out.
Kate remained sitting, mentally counting to ten. She finished eight to ten in a rush and followed Elizabeth with an excited smile.
x . o . x . o . x . o . x
'I don't believe you,' Elizabeth said breathlessly, having found the person she was looking for in the 'gate room.
John seemed confused; he held up a football and glanced at the man he'd been throwing the ball to.
'What? We're just playing a little football.'
'Not that,' she snapped impatiently. 'This.'
The note she clutched in her hand was torn and sweaty.
'Why?' John asked, handing the ball over to his friend and moving closer to her. 'Didn't you like the flowers?'
'No, I loved them. But all this' -she waved her hand- 'is just crazy.'
'Lizabeth, are you feeling alright?'
'I'm fine. You know perfectly well what I'm talking about. You're the mad one. I might have never figured it out.'
'Figured what out?' He looked thoroughly concerned now, holding her arm comfortingly.
'Stop pretending you think I'm crazy,' she demanded.
He broke into a grin.
'Okay, okay. You're not crazy. Tell me what's going on.'
'Will, the ewe, the Merry Christmas sign, the highlighted mes, Elizabeth…' she trailed off, suddenly uncertain. 'You did do it all, right?'
He studied her for a second.
'Yes, I did. I always told you that when I propose, it'd be a creative proposal.'
'I thought you were joking,' she said, turning her lips down at him. 'I didn't think it'd be so soon, or this creative. Or that I'd have to figure out it was a proposal.'
'So what's the answer?' A crowd had formed around them now, smiling knowingly at her.
'Was everybody in this?' she asked.
'Pretty much, especially Will. Great actor, isn't he? You didn't answer me.'
'You don't need an answer,' she told him. 'You already know.'
He tilted his head questioningly at her, then interpreting her smile correctly, lifted her up and swung her in a circle. She laughed in delight, accepting the kisses he showered upon her as he set her back onto the ground. He removed a ring from his pocket and slid it onto her finger, not once tearing his gaze away from her.
'I might never have worked it out,' she repeated, snuggled in his arms.
'I knew you would,' he said softly. 'I knew you were too intelligent to not see that today was even more unusual than any other.'
'Just one question: did you make that ewe yourself?'
He laughed as Rodney scowled at him from their audience, shooting him a warning glare.
'Rodney helped.'
A/N: Right, so read that note, carefully, if you haven't figured out how Elizabeth worked it out.
bailunrui's brilliant 'Deliberate Intention' inspired this, and she graciously allowed me to use the proposal line of 'will ewe merry M.E' for this. Have a look if you're a House fan, or are just curious. You won't regret it.
This was never meant to be a Valentine's Day fic, but as I was planning to post it so close to the day, I figured a tiny reference to it wouldn't hurt. : )