Title: Possession

TV Show: Stargate Atlantis

Rating: K+ right now. I don't know what it'll be in the future.

Pairing(s): John/Elizabeth, slight John/Fran if you look for it

Disclaimer: If I'd owned this, John and Elizabeth would have been together. But I don't. And I'm definitely not making any money off of this.

Summary: John plans the ultimate rescue, only to mess it up royally. Will he ever see Atlantis again?

Notes: I'm doing this on the fly, which means it'll be a WIP until it's done. I sort of have it mapped out, but who knows where it'll go. I just so want to get back into writing again. Good reading! Enjoy. Comments are very welcome.

Chapter One

Pins and needles. His arm had fallen asleep, making him want to shake it until he got the feeling back in it. What he didn't count on was the sharp pain in his shoulder as he eased off of it.

"You seem to be injured."

Statement of the century. John Sheppard always seemed to be injured in some way. Mostly cuts and bruises, but sometimes he came back with concussions, broken arms, legs, burns. Once he even came back through the gate with an arrow in his hip. Elizabeth never ran so fast to try and catch him as he stumbled. John moved his arm purposely just to get that image out of his head. Pain was a good way to forget.

"Dammit. I do not need this."

No, he didn't need to be injured, out in the middle of nowhere, no team, no way back to Atlantis. What started out as a carefully planned operation turned into a disaster. On top of ruining his career, he now had ruined his chance of ever seeing Atlantis again.

"Shall I help you?"

If he could slam her against the bulkhead, he would. But he needed Fran, possibly to survive.

"I'm fine," he growled, while edging himself up to the bench in the back of the puddlejumper.

"You do not seem pleased. If I have done you any harm, I am truly sorry."

Harm? All she did was somehow delete everything he had worked for these past couple of months. She was back at factory settings, unfortunately. Rodney would be proud.

John's head swam as he leaned back against the bulkhead. What would he do now? Find a decent planet to land on, possibly with a Stargate? Not that he could actually dial back to Atlantis. Woolsey probably already deleted his IDC from the computer. Slamming into the shield wasn't his idea of fun.

Levering himself against the bench, John slowly made it to a standing position. His arm hurt like hell, his head hurt worse than hell and the rest of his body felt like it had gone ten rounds with Ronon. Oh boy, Ronon was probably pissed off right about now. He could see in his mind Teyla's face, disapproving of a plan that really didn't have any room for success. Suicide mission at its finest. John Sheppard seemed to excel at those.

"Would you like me to…," Fran started until John put a hand out for her to shut the hell up.

"Listen, just sit down and shut up."

"As you wish," Fran replied, sitting across from him. John thought he heard a little hurt in her voice. What emotions had Rodney programmed into her?

Rodney hadn't entirely programmed this model though. Elizabeth had. With all her Replicator knowledge on top of the knowledge that Rodney had managed to glean in making Fran in the first place, this was one lean, mean machine standing in front of him. Not that he was worried. Why should he be? He was screwed anyway.

Making his way to the front of the puddlejumper, John slid into the pilot's seat to figure out just where in hell they were. Blackness, a few stars off in the distance. No way to make out anything of importance. John tried to call up the display of wherever they were. It didn't work.

"While you were unconscious, I tried to accomplish that task also. It seems that many of the ship's systems are not communicating with one another."

"Polite way of saying that it's all shot to hell. Kind of figured that out."

It bothered him the way she sat next to him, like she belonged there.

"I do not believe that the systems are all shot to hell," Fran replied, saying his wording hesitantly. "They are just not communicating properly."

"Get to the point. You know how to fix it or not?" He knew he sounded a little annoyed. Who wouldn't be, trapped in a part of the Pegasus Galaxy he'd never been to, retrieving what he thought would be Elizabeth Weir, only to come up short, again.

"I think it would be possible. Would you like me to?"

John snickered at that thought. Hey, he could just open the rear hatch and end it quickly. He was never one to think those kinds of thoughts though. He'd fight to the last breath if he thought he'd be able to live.

"Have at it. I'm not going to get much done with this arm and the pounding headache," he said as he raised his battered body from the pilot's seat.

Fran got to work as he rummaged around to find the medkit in the back. Blessedly, it was packed to the gills with medicine, particularly some pain killers and a way for him to bind his arm to his body so he wouldn't move it. He just couldn't wrap the damn thing up without help. After trying a dozen times, he finally called to Fran to help.

She gently did as she was told, even giving him a slight smile when she finished. John only downed one pill, just to take the edge off, but not to put him off in lala land, as pain meds sometimes did to him. Four hours later (he checked how long he'd been out), he saw that Fran was making progress. Good for her. Thank goodness she still had Rodney's programming intact.

"There are certain systems that I cannot operate because I do not possess the Ancient gene. When I have completed repairs, I will need your help." She looked so pleased with herself.

John puttered around, tried to not be in the way, ate a powerbar, then attempted to help. Fran frowned at him. At least Rodney didn't program sarcasm. He figured that sitting down and staying out of the way was the best course of action. The pain was bearable at the moment. Moving around too much might make it worse. He settled down in the co-pilot's chair because that seemed to be the only place Fran hadn't been working.

"I never thought of you as a wimp," the voice taunted as it ran ahead of him.

"Nah. Not a wimp. Just ask Ronon or Teyla. Don't ask Rodney," he put in as he followed the voice through Atlantis.

It all seemed so familiar. The banter, the easiness with which they talked. When he finally caught up with her, he noticed she was sweating. He was too. They were running. He and Elizabeth were running. John didn't remember a time when she joined him in a run around Atlantis. Hell, even Rodney had joined him once, never to do it again. He had to take Rodney to Carson after that incident.

"Why are we running?" he asked Elizabeth.

"Because you wanted to. You explained that it cleared your mind."

John watched as Elizabeth wiped her face with the back of her hand. The only time he'd seen her sweat was when she was seriously injured.

"You OK?" he suddenly asked, realizing that taking her running wasn't the best idea.

"Just a little winded. It's beautiful here, isn't it?"

He couldn't agree more. John usually ended up on this lonely little deck far away from Atlantis's inhabitants after a long run. All he could see was ocean as far as the eye could see. That suited him just fine. And to share it with Elizabeth, that was even better. She never had down time, to relax and enjoy the city as she should.

He watched as she took a deep breath. Staring at her didn't make her wary as it did when they first met. He had a habit of just looking at her, trying to figure out the puzzle that was Elizabeth Weir. Some people thought they had something going on, at least to the level of a weird kind of ESP. He sometimes wondered about that too. They definitely had some kind of connection or maybe he was just good at reading her facial expressions.

"What?" she asked as she turned to meet his stare.

"Oh, just the fact that you are actually relaxing at the moment. You never seem to do that."

"And your idea of relaxing is running a few miles, sparring with two people with many times the strength of yourself, then raiding the kitchen for the leftover ice cream from the night before?"

John just couldn't help but smile. "You really do know me. I'm a simple man. If I don't get the ice cream, then Rodney will find it and eat it before I do."

Elizabeth smirked at that thought. "So it's a game between the two of you?"

"No. I just like to piss him off."

Elizabeth Weir actually snorted. Her shoulders weren't bunched up with tension, her brow wasn't furrowed with worry, her stance wasn't one of being ready to fight. He'd actually gotten through to her.

The jolt of the puddlejumper moving woke him from his slumber. John's good hand rested on the controls in front of him, looking as if they were lighting up from his touch. Which meant one thing: Fran was successful. Now they could roam the galaxy, orphans from their respective races.

"I did it," Fran exclaimed, a little excited that she was able to repair the shuttle.

"You did," John mumbled as he moved from one chair to another. "Wild blue yonder, here we come."