Title: Tainted
Author: Angel Leviathan
Spoilers: Anything, everything.
Season: Late 2, maybe 3.
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis, characters, concept, etc, aren't mine.
Notes: Not quite sure where this came from, though it could probably be blamed on Conversion and half the tracks on the Daniel Powter album.
She sat at the end of the bar, staring into a glass of wine, not truly seeing anything. Trapped between furious and depressed, eyes glazed over, she twisted the glass round and round, attention elsewhere. She was glad the bar was dark enough for her to hide in as an anonymous figure; the last thing she wanted was somebody to appear and try to start up a conversation. Curls from her now longer hair fell into her eyes as she slouched over her drink, too mentally exhausted to make the effort of appearing alert and alive. Elizabeth sighed and took another sip, or rather, knocked back a rather large gulp of the wine in her glass, having been studying the contents for a good hour.
She hated him. She hated how he could make her so depressed, so angry she wanted to physically harm him. Not that she ever would, in her right mind, but then, was she really ever in her right mind around him anymore? Sometimes it all seemed like some elaborate game, with highs and lows, action and lulls, as if they were dancing and never getting any closer. She hated how she'd come to depend on him for support and hated herself for allowing herself to think he would always be there to offer such support. Because it always made them hate each other more when he couldn't. Or wouldn't. Either, maybe both. He was supposed to be her 2IC, but somehow, she hardly ever saw him that way. He was an equal. So she sometimes snapped orders and had to give him a dressing down in front of their people, but that was how a chain of command had to work. She always felt on edge if she went against his wishes and always saw the guilt in his eyes when he defied and challenged her. Maybe that was why, she grudgingly thought, they worked so well together. Because no matter how much they might take each other's challenges personally, they knew, deep down, that they were really pushing each other to be better people. See things differently and take risks even when their sensibilities were screaming at them not to. When they weren't screaming at each other. That had become a relatively new and somewhat novel feature recently. Usually, or at least, to start with, they had discussed things, with sometimes raised voices, the occasional shouting match, even in front of the city. But they'd never been so touchy and sensitive as to start taking every little glance across a table, every mistimed comment, to heart, as a challenge to who they were, not what they did. Oh, she hated him alright. Hated him with a passion. A passion she wasn't quite sure what to do with.
Elizabeth took another sip of her wine, before she shook her head and opted to drain the rest of her drink, deciding she would've liked a proper glass to slam back on the bar top. As it was, she restrained herself and merely sighed as she placed it down again. She glanced around at the darkened room, the most light coming from the fixtures above the pool tables in one corner. The darkness was one thing she loved about the bar. It seemed to suit whatever mood she was in. If she was depressed, she could hide and wallow and brood in the darkness, if she was happy, she could sit and smile, relax, listen to the music and watch the world go by. She'd found the place whilst wandering around town, trying to acquaint herself with the area when she thought she would be running the Stargate program. Now it seemed like a good spot to unwind (or not) whilst she was back on Earth, not wanting to stray too far from the action.
She tensed as a taller figure came to stand beside her. She refused to look up, realising her glass was empty and she was going to look rather stupid if she wasn't drinking and refusing to make conversation, and so tried to attract the attention of the bartender by raising her hand slightly. It was then she noticed the hand being held out toward her and then she just had to look up and make eye contact, if only to tell them to leave her alone. An unnecessarily sharp dismissal caught in her throat as she locked eyes with John Sheppard. Elizabeth had spent so long training herself to only show the emotion she wanted others to see, her reaction was almost non-existent. Her expression neutral, she continued to stare up at him. Damn him. She knew she should never have told him about the place. Or that it was steadily becoming one of her haunts. He knew exactly where to find her now. Trying to stare him down, she didn't move. His expression didn't change in the slightest, he simply edged his hand closer to her and took a step back expectantly.
John mentally sighed. He should've known it would come to this one day. They knew each other too well, knew exactly how to wind each other up and provoke each other into screaming rows. Almost too close to keep friendship and work apart. If it was friendship…and if that wasn't work…or the reverse. They hadn't spoken since their return to Earth, called back just as they were loudly 'debating' just what was betrayal of a trust and what was a work related challenge. What was using personal details and thoughts given in confidence to gain the upper hand in a command situation and what was defying orders and countering them for a legitimate reason. Glowering like schoolchildren and not daring to look at each other across the SGC briefing room table, silence had reigned until they were given some downtime to escape the base before the next round of debriefings and interviews. John stubbornly remained still, arm outstretched toward her, wondering if he was going to have to turn on his heel and walk right out of there again.
Elizabeth finally stood and stepped away from the bar, placing her hand in his, waiting for him to make the next move. She allowed him to lead her several paces from the bar and pull her closer, confusing her ever so slightly. He said nothing. Didn't break eye contact with her as he slipped an arm around her waist and drew her up against him. She complied and draped one arm around his shoulders, sliding her other hand up to rest on his shoulder. Elizabeth blinked and continued to gaze up at him, wondering if it was a challenge, and just who was challenging who. Still no words. They began to move in time to the music, slowly, with no hesitation, closer and closer, with growing confidence and natural ease. Constant eye contact, challenge fading, curiosity increasing, apologies evident, heat rising. Arguments forgotten. Long, long, forgotten. Months worth of regrets and apologies fading from them as they crept ever closer with the beat. Desire rushed back to finish all the arguments and taint them with an intensity neither had dared to contemplate.
John tightened his grip on her as she shifted against him in time with the music, a new challenge in her eyes, his gaze intensifying, "Come home with me."
She answered him the only way she could fathom how. No words. No thoughts. Just him, flooding her senses and returning her slow embrace in a manner that was swiftly intoxicating. She definitely hated him. Because they had known what to do with their passion all along…they'd just never dared encourage it.
Fin