Guidance

John sighed and looked around as he walked down the nearly deserted hallways of Atlantis. Normally, they would be bustling with expedition members going about their business, but at this time of the night, only the most hard core scientists and the graveyard shift SO's were around. Passing the armory, John nodded in quick recognition at the airman standing guard. The guard snapped him a salute before grimacing.

"Sorry, Major."

John stopped, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly. "No worries, Airman…" he paused a moment, searching his memory for the name, "Sanchez. I'm not going to throw you in the brig for saluting… but I'm not going to throw you in the brig for not saluting either." Sanchez smiled slightly and John thought he saw a hint of respect in the soldier's eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"Night, Sanchez." John held his small smile.

Sanchez nodded back. "Night, sir."

John continued on his way, his thoughts lingering on the young soldier and the unexpected leadership role he found himself in. Ever since he'd taken over command of Atlantis' military, he'd been gently but insistently working some of the more 'by the book' airmen and soldiers out of their reflexive tendency to salute him every time he walked by. Never a model officer, John definitely preferred a more casual command. His men knew he was their CO and the ranking officer in base. They didn't have to salute him every time they saw him just to prove it and, frankly, he was uncomfortable enough with command, without being reminded of it all the time.

John's thoughts turned reflective. For all outward appearances, he knew that he seemed perfectly comfortable and confident in command and no matter what he felt, he had to appear that way. He was in command and the men looked to him for leadership. Whether he wanted it or not, command was his and had been from the moment Sumner had been captured and killed. He'd always been confident in the choices he made, regardless of orders or what his superiors thought. But for the first time, John found himself in a situation where, at some level, he second guessed every choice he made, even when he knew he had to make them. After all, it was his decisions that had led to every Wraith in the galaxy waking from hibernation. If that wasn't enough to make someone pause and consider the ramifications of their decisions, then they shouldn't be in command and probably were a little crazy to boot.

Still, he'd like to think that, considering the unexpected turn of events that left him in command, he'd done a pretty fair job of it. They were all still alive and Atlantis wasn't destroyed. At the end of the day, that was what really mattered… and at the end of some days, that was about all he could find to count as some sort of success.

John's thoughts shifted again as the infirmary doors came into view. Speaking of unexpected… He paused a moment, waiting for the doors to open, before walking into the quiet infirmary. He looked around for a minute, surprised that Elizabeth wasn't there, nor McKay. Spotting Carson, he walked over to the Doctor. "How's our patient?"

Carson's smiled was tired but genuine. "Sleeping. Which is what you should be doing, Major."

John chuckled quietly. "Look who's talking." He held his smile as Carson nodded, apparently conceding the point.

"Aye."

John looked around. "Where're Elizabeth and McKay?"

"Mess hall," Carson answered. "I had to order Elizabeth to go, guess Rodney decided to tag along."

"Never one to pass on a meal," John joked. He arched a brow at Carson. "Before you start the Mother Hen routine, I've eaten and I'm not hungry."

"What about sleep?" Carson asked insistently.

"I'll catch up on that when I'm dead," John retorted quietly. He left the doctor and slowly walked towards the patient who, through no fault of her own, had all of them completely off balance. He stopped by the bed and stared down at her. He had to admit, on some level, her presence freaked him out. But, he suspected, not nearly as much as she did to Elizabeth and rightly so. It's not every day you encounter an aged, alternate reality version of yourself.

John reached behind himself and grabbed a nearby stool. He quietly pulled it closer and sat down next to her bed. He rested his feet on the footrest of the stool and crossed his arms. Part of him was reeling from everything she'd told him about her reality, and the very different chain of events that'd happened the instant her expedition stepped through the gate to Atlantis. There were facts and emotions surrounding his own mortality that he'd have to deal with, but not now, not when the precious time they had to learn what they could from this woman, was limited.

John leaned forward and rested his hands on the edge of her bed as "old" Weir stirred slightly before her eyes slowly opened. He gave her a gentle smile. "Hi."

She inhaled deeply before speaking. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Couple hours," John answered, "you needed it."

"Damn." Her voice was quiet but insistent. "I don't have the time to sleep… not yet."

John pushed away Carson's words about kidney failure and the old woman's body just shutting down. "Nah, you got lots of time…"

"I'm dying," she cut him off, quietly. I can feel it."

John pursed his lips and swallowed hard, unable to find any words to reassure Weir, who knew the facts anyway.

"You don't have to say anything, Major, its okay," Weir reassured weakly. "I got the chance to breathe the fresh, sea air; to see Atlantis safe and majestic." She took a deep breath. "I did the right thing and I'm content to let go."

John clenched his jaw and fidgeted slightly. What do you say to a woman who sacrificed her whole future to save yours? Who gave up her life so you could live and was content in her choice? Somehow, the only words he could think of seemed utterly inadequate, but he voiced them anyway. "Thank you," he said softly.

She held her weak smile. "Make good on my sacrifice, Major. Learn what Atlantis has to offer… what this galaxy has to offer. As Mark Twain would say 'Explore. Dream. Discover.'"

John looked away. She's placed the entire future of the reality she'd sacrificed her life for, squarely on his shoulders and he felt every ounce of that weight.

"John."

Her quiet voice recaptured his attention and when he looked back, he stared squarely into aged eyes that seemed wiser than even her long years. "I know you never expected to be in command, but I also know you can do it… and do it well."

John's gaze narrowed in question. She'd barely known him; this reality or her own and yet she was making a hell of an assumption. "How…" his voice trailed off at her weak chuckle.

"Remember our meeting a week before we left for Atlantis?" She countered quietly.

John blinked hard as his mind tried to come to terms with the fact that, up until the point they stepped through the gate, this was the same Elizabeth he knew; their realities were the same. His memories drifted back to that day…

John slowly walked into the conference room and stopped in the doorway. Seated at the far end of a large, oval table, Dr. Weir looked up at him and smiled.

"Major, come in please." She gestured at a nearby chair. "Have a seat."

John slowly walked into the room. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the Earth Stargate through the large, conference room windows. He'd been at the SGC for a week now and he still couldn't believe everything he'd read and been told about wormholes and intergalactic travel. His smile was guarded as he sat down adjacent to her. He returned her very direct look as, while she still smiled, seemed to study him for a moment, before looking down at the opened file folder on the table in front of her.

"You have a very notable record, Major," she said without looking up as she turned a few pages. "You've been decorated numerous times and I see several recommendations from different CO's you've served under. All in all, very impressive." She closed the file, folded her hands on top of it, and looked up at him.

John shifted slightly in his chair. "Thank you, Doctor." He clenched his jaw as he waited for the other shoe to fall. It always did. First came the compliments on his achievements then…

"Tell me about Afghanistan."

Bingo. He looked away for a moment. "I did what I thought was right," he answered quietly.

"Disobeying direct orders in the process?"

He looked back at her and studied her carefully neutral expression, but the diplomat in her kept her true feelings hidden. John sighed quietly. He had nothing to lose. He'd always stated his opinion plainly and he wasn't about to stop now. "Yes. Because it was the right thing to do. Those men are alive today because I made the choice I made. I don't regret it. If that means my career suffers from it, then…" he shrugged, "that's the way it has to be."He sat back in his chair, waiting for the repercussions to come and wondering how long it would take before he landed back in Antarctica. His gaze narrowed as she slowly pushed back from the table and stood. He turned his chair, watching her as she walked to the large windows and stared down into the SGC Gate room.

"This is a civilian expedition," she started quietly, "but there still is a chain of command that has to be adhered to, especially amongst the military contingent." She turned around and stared evenly at him. "But, even though Colonel Sumner is in command of the military contingent, I am in command of the expedition. I need people that will… take direction, when given."

John stared back at her a moment. A spark of admiration kindled within him. He'd been blunt almost to the point of rudeness to her, and she'd not only taken it in stride, but had the strength to do the same to him. His mind touched on her profession and he decided that she probably was a hell of a diplomatic negotiator. He stood and walked over to her, his gaze never leaving hers. "I have no problem with…" he quirked his brows, "taking direction, as long as I think the decision is right."

She crossed her arms and never broke eye contact with him. "And if you don't?"

"You'll hear from me," he answered immediately. He looked down as the fingers of her left hand tapped on her right bicep before she looked back at the Stargate. "We're venturing into the unknown, Major. It could even be hostile, we just don't know." She turned back towards him. "I don't need you disrupting the chain of command."

John stared hard at her serious and strong expression. "Maybe, I'm not right for this expedition then."

Her gaze narrowed. "That sounds like the first answer you gave me in Antarctica. What changed your mind and made you say yes in the first place?"

In spite of the situation, the side of John's mouth quirked slightly. "General O'Neill."

Unlike his, her smile was complete. "I see."She looked back out the window, presumably at the Stargate. "General O'Neill has that effect on people." She arched a brow at him, her expression turning thoughtful again. "Is that the only reason?"

John stared at her for a moment before shrugging slightly. "No," he admitted. "Call me crazy but I'm curious about all of this. Besides, after eleven months at McMurdo, I'm ready for a change." His gaze narrowed as she uncrossed her arms and took a step closer to him.

"This could very likely be a one way trip, Major."

John's smile faded as he thought of his life here…his family… "That's not a problem." He stared quietly at her for a moment before she pursed her lips and turned away from him, returning to her seat at the table.

"The truth is, Major, I need officers like you on this expedition. Not just because you're apparently a born natural with Ancient technology, but because you have experience and, as General O'Neill put it, you're able to 'think outside the box...'"

"John."

John pulled in a deep breath as he pulled himself back to the present. He smiled slightly, meeting gazes with the aged eyes that stared up at him.

Weir returned his small smile. "I had my doubts about you, Major." Her voice was slightly challenging and even in her weakened state, still held a hint of the strength she carried within.

"I know," he answered softly.

"From his absence, I gather Colonel Sumner is dead in this reality as well?" Weir's words were formed in a question, but her tone was confident as if she already knew the answer.

Not willing to worry her with the fact that they'd already met the Wraith, John looked away before nodding silently. And I killed him…

"John," her voice cracked and she coughed feebly.

He looked back, meeting her intense gaze. She must've seen the hesitation and uncertainty in his expression, in spite of his best efforts to hide it, because he suddenly felt her gently pat his knuckles, before her hand came to rest on top of his.

Weir turned her head away and sighed. "It was so long ago, but I remember. You were so confident when I met you. She looked back at him and smiled. "Almost cocky. Jack said you were perfect for the SGC; a natural leader, and that went a long way with me. He warned me, though. You'd need a tight rein." She chuckled softly.

John silently chewed on his lower lip for a moment, taken off-guard that he'd been the subject of so much discussion.

"I spent a lot of years reading people, Major," Weir continued, "I see the hesitation in your face, but trust me when I tell you, there is no one better to lead Atlantis with Elizabeth."

John felt incredibly vulnerable that she could read him so well, when all the while he thought he had all his indecision buried behind a strong mask of leadership. "I've made mistakes…" his voice trailed off at her weak chuckle.

"You're a leader, John. That comes with the territory." Her eyelids drooped for a moment, before she pulled them open. "How long have you been here?"

"About eight months," John answered.

"You're still alive and what's more, thriving. The city has survived and so have you." She looked away, a shadow of sorrow fleeting over her expression. "Compared to my reality…" her voice trailed off.

John's thoughts touched on what she'd told them of her reality and he was forced to see her point. He shook his head. "If it wasn't for you…"

"Don't." She chastised lightly. "I only got you started; gave you a fighting chance. You've all done the rest."

At a loss for words, he still managed to find a small smile for her.

"She relies on your strength, John," Weir's voice was quiet but confident. "Trust me, she'll never admit it, but she does."

Confused and even taken aback by her blunt statement, John shook his head. "How…"

Weir chuckled. "She's me. I think I probably know myself pretty well."

John felt a slight blush creep up his neck. "Right." He looked down as her hand tightened around his.

"Trust yourself, John."

Her soft, direct statement stuck with him as he looked up at her and saw nothing but confidence in her expression. Somehow, as he stared at her, he felt that confidence permeate him and he smiled in response. "Is that an order, Doctor?" he teased lightly.

Weir smiled in return. "It damn sure is, Major." She sighed. "Eight months," Weir smiled at him, "another thing you should know then. Our birthday is coming up, if it hasn't passed already. I know she didn't tell you that."

John chucked. "Nope. It's today."

"Today?" Her gaze narrowed at him. "How did you know?"

John just smiled back, mischievously arched his brows at her and didn't say a word.

This time, it was Weir's turn to chuckle. "You'll do fine, Major," she affirmed. "Quite a… coincidence…" her voice trailed off as her eyelids again drooped. She valiantly tried to keep them open, but after a moment, succumbed to sleep.

John just sat there, staring at her face, its deep lines relaxed in sleep. His mind raced as he tried to process all that she'd said and the implications her revelations had on him. Slowly, he smiled as some of the confidence she'd passed on spread throughout him. She'd called him a 'natural leader', but lying before him was someone who embodied it even more than he thought he ever could. Somehow, she'd bolstered his confidence, and reassured him at the same time. Gratefulness swept through him as he gently placed his free hand over the top of her relaxed one and squeezed gently. "Happy Birthday, Elizabeth."

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This is what happens when I watch SGA marathons on Scifi. Unexpected plot bunny attacks. "Old" Weir mentioned their birthday to "young" Weir who concluded it was Sheppard that told "Old" Weir about it. My muse latched onto that idea like an Iratus Bug. ;)