'Elizabeth?'
He whispers her name in the darkness and waits, one heart-stopping moment, for her to reply.
'I'm here,' her voice is muzzy with sleep and a warm hands slides across his waist, soft hair brushing his skin as she settles her head against his chest. He lets out a breath, wrapping both arms around her slight frame. He can almost see her, tousled curls awry and green eyes blinking sleepily at the sudden awakening.
'Sorry,' he kisses her hair, she smells like violets in the spring, 'for a moment I thought-'
'Mmm… these nightmares John… they're not doing either of us any good. Go see Heightmeyer, Sheppard, that's an order,' but it doesn't sound like one and he smiles into the night.
The clouds drift on and the moon finally shines on the ocean below. Dappled light plays around his quarters but Elizabeth doesn't move, she's asleep again. Big day tomorrow, O'Neill's coming and she wants everything running like it's on oiled wheels. She's not afraid, but she likes Jack, wants him to be proud of the facility, secure in the knowledge that he chose the right people for the job.
Enveloped in her warmth and the elusive scent of flowers, he sleeps, one arm holding her securely to his side.
The sun streams through the window, replacing the scattered reflections of moonlight with warmer tones. He doesn't see the slow transition, his alarm awakens him to the bright new day.
Next to him the bed is empty.
Cold.
And he remembers.
He gets dressed, the General's coming and he needs this place to run like it's on oiled wheels. He wants the General to know he made the right decision, chose the right people. He wants him to know that Weir is still here, in spirit, that the loyalty and trust she earned lives on.
And he needs to see Heightmeyer.
Her order. Even if it didn't sound like one.
She's right.
This isn't doing him any good.