Second Chances, Chapter Three, by ShipperWriter
AN: So this is the last chapter that ties everything together. Not very deep, but a different twist on the what-ifs. Hope you enjoyed!
Antarctica. 2004.
If only General O'Neill would agree to let us use the Zero Point Module!
Dr. Elizabeth Weir leaned against the table in Dr. Daniel Jackson's informal office, the nagging cold at the back of her mind as she sighed, frustrated. Next to her, Dr. Rodney McKay was racking his mind, trying to find another way to convince the general to allow them to use the ZedPM. Granted, it was an important line of defense for Earth, but at the same time, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity that they needed to take advantage of now. When might they get this chance again?
She knew that their odds would be better if the Ancient gene candidates were more promising. So far, their best one, Dr. Carson Beckett, had almost blown up the helicopter that Jack O'Neill had arrived in.
Again, not promising. And it didn't help anything that the Scottish doctor was incredibly nervous when he attempted to use the Ancient Chair.
She was pondering why having three doctors in the room wasn't producing a more productive argument.
"You think there are more of these … Zed things in Atlantis?" O'Neill asked, the conversation starting to head in their direction.
After a discussion of the repurcussions, mainly with the journey being one way, it seemed that O'Neill was finally ready to allow them to take the ZPM and go to Atlantis.
She suddenly heard a concerned, "Dr. Weir! Don't move!"
She walked to the opening, where Carson ran up to her, panting.
"What is it?"
"There's something you need to see. Quickly!"
The group followed his lead and ran back to the Chair.
A man in an Air Force uniform sat in the Chair. The active Chair.
"Who is this?" she demanded, glancing rapidly between Carson, the major in the chair, anyone who could give her an answer.
O'Neill stood next to the base of the chair, staring at the man in disbelief. "I said don't touch anything," he reprimanded, slightly sarcastic.
"I - I just sat down," the anxious man with the crazy hair replied innocently, totally unaware of what was going on.
"Major. Think about where we are in the solar system," McKay ordered, focusing intently on him.
Elizabeth quickly put two and two together. He must have been the pilot that brought O'Neill here.
Within five seconds, there was a full fledged map of the solar system, as well as a graphical scale, projected above their heads.
She beamed at everyone around her. He naturally has the gene, she realized in silent amazement.
With his disbelieving stare upwards, he asked, "Did I do that?"
Elizabeth wanted to laugh, but contained herself. No one had accessed the chair like that since the last time that then-Colonel O'Neill had been sitting there. Now that the general had pretty much given his approval for the expedition to take the ZPM, she only needed to convince this young man to come along.
She looked at General O'Neill. "General, does the major have clearance?"
"He told me he did," Carson replied through gritted teeth.
The major shrugged. "Sorry, Doc."
"Eh, it's all right. If it means that Rodney isn't going to glue me to that chair, I'm forever in your debt."
O'Neill cleared his throat. "Actually, Major Sheppard was just piloting me here. He doesn't know anymore than what you've told him."
Something akin to an alarm went off in the back of Elizabeth's mind.
Sheppard.
No. It couldn't be.
Could it?
After Daniel Jackson had thoroughly debriefed one Major John Sheppard after watching him sign non-disclosure agreement after non-disclosure agreement, the poor overwhelmed pilot sat in the archeologist's office, head in his hands, buzzing with a slight headache.
A small voice cleared in front of him. The woman that he'd seen earlier, who seemed to be in charge of this operation, held two aspirin and a bottled water. She smiled kindly at him. "Thought you might need this."
"Yeah. Thanks," he replied, accepting the water, throwing the pills back with a small swig.
She took a seat in front of him. "John Sheppard, right?"
"That's me."
She chuckled. "The irony."
"Excuse me?"
She gazed around the room, finally settling back on him. "We were supposed to meet. A long time ago. At a dinner that our fathers forced us to go to."
He squinted, then remembered the name that General O'Neill had mentioned earlier.
Weir. Dr. Elizabeth Weir.
"You're Robert Weir's daughter," he surmised as the recognition dawned on him.
She nodded, extending her hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you."
There was a reassuring twinkle in her eyes as he took her hand, shaking it firmly.
He honestly replied, "Likewise."
"So, I know it's been rather tremendous day for you, Major. But do you mind if I talk with you, just for a moment?" she asked, taking a seat in front of him as if she already knew he would say yes.
"Sure," he answered, leaning back in his chair, uncapping the water for another swallow.
"Do you actually believe everything that has just been told to you?" she inquired point blank.
He smirked. "I just got attacked by an alien UFO, then sat down in a chair that automatically reclined because of some funky DNA I have, then I pulled up a 3D map of the solar system. I'm gonna go with yeah."
She smiled. "How much did Dr. Jackson fill you in about our expedition?"
"He gave me the rundown. This, uh, Stargate thing, you type in some stuff, go to other planets, but you wanna go someplace that's not even in the galaxy? That about right?"
"Just about. The place we're attempting to reach, Atlantis, the Lost City, has the same technology as the chair that you naturally can power, but the technology there, while we don't know exactly what all it can do, is far more amazing than a simple weapons outpost here on Earth. Some of the other members can barely turn it on. You sit down and-"
"Yeah, I get your point," he interrupted, holding up a hand. "What do you want from me?"
She leaned forward from her seat in front of him. "I want you to come with us."
He rolled his eyes. "No offense, ma'am, but if you've seen my record, you'd know that I'm probably the last person you'd want with you. Besides, I'm happy where I am."
"John," she asked in earnest, meeting his wavering eyes. "I have seen your record. I read as much as I could about the incident in Afghanistan. What I couldn't access, I pulled from memory."
He ran a hand through his hair. "What are you talking about?"
"Just before you tried to save the lives of those three soldiers, you flew a negotiation team back to the airbase in Kabul. Do you remember that at all?"
He nodded. "Yeah, two guys and a … girl," he trailed off as he suddenly understood.
"You saved my life that day, and I never got the chance to thank you." She shrugged good-humouredly at him. "I got my second chance today. I think you deserve one, too." She left him to stir on that thought as she stood and left the room.
Just before she passed the divide, he called out, "Dr. Weir?"
"Yes?" she responded immediately, turning to face him.
"I'll think about it."
She nodded in acceptance. "I'll take that."
Then she left the room.
Atlantis. Four years later.
"Elizabeth? Open the door, please? This is ridiculous!"
He heard nothing but silence from the interior room.
John Sheppard groaned in frustration, glaring at the door, wondering if he could somehow force it open just because of the gene. She was in another mood, and he didn't know why. He walked away from the door, glancing at it every so often, until he arrived at the work desk that was used way too much in their quarters.
He shifted through some papers, mentioning it aloud to her in hopes of drawing her out of the bathroom where she had locked herself in. She was acting like a five year old. He expected this kind of behavior from McKay, not her.
As he let out another sigh, a red mark on a calendar shot through the clutter, capturing his attention.
He pulled it out, careful not to let the other papers flutter off the desk, and the light bulb exploded in his mind with the force of a nuke.
It was time.
He ran back to the door, ready to pound on it, until it opened in front of him, his wife slowly making her way out with a plastic device in her hands. Eyes wide, she couldn't even bring herself to give a head shake, one way or another.
He cautiously gripped her small, quivering hands as he rotated it to see the signs.
"Yes," she finally managed to croak, just before John realized what this meant.
The calendar. The positive. The wait.
She was still two months along.
He threw his arms around her, holding her tightly and carefully, trying not to laugh aloud right in her ear.
Carson had warned them that after the first miscarriage, it might be more difficult to carry a pregnancy to term. Elizabeth had been working so much, not taking care of herself as usual, that by the time they had realized that she was with child, it had been too late, and it became apparent that the embryo wouldn't survive long.
They had been trying again for almost six months, but it never seemed to take.
Until, on one of her bimonthly visits to the infirmary, Carson had run her bloodwork three times until he guardedly confirmed it. She was pregnant again.
The first time, she hadn't even noticed her period being absent until it was too late.
This time around, she let out a small whoop when it didn't come.
It had been at six weeks when they lost the first time. Carson urged her to be careful, take all her vitamins, eat regularly, engage in some light exercise, and report in every week. The longer that she made it past that time frame, the better chances they would have in carrying this baby to term.
And at the moment, John felt like walking on air.
He pulled back from her, keeping his grip on her upper arms. "You sure? You wanna try another one?" he asked, waiting for a small smack from Elizabeth.
She rolled her eyes. "This is the third one."
He hugged her again, then kissed her heartily. When he pulled back, he could only smirk.
"Why is it the universe keeps giving us second chances?"
She only smiled before she grasped his head, pulling him down into another kiss.
Then another one.
FIN.
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