The evening of two days later found Elizabeth and John back in China Town, after a complete run through of the play being shadowed by their understudies. The day hadn't got off to the best of starts, considering most of the cast and crew, including the two of them, had been rather hung over after a late night out on the town. Elizabeth had been all for hiding in a darkened room and letting her understudy work for the day. The whole thing had been rather amusing for Kate, who had laughed at the sickened looks she received whenever one of the cast had to pass by the bar. It hadn't been so much fun for Bessie, who had taken them all to the bars and clubs in the first place. Sora and her understudy bouncing about the stage had been rather frustrating for all of them. Teyla had almost flattened the girl when she jokingly challenged her to a fight again.
"…I think the headache's finally gone…" Elizabeth rested her elbows on the table and leant heavily on them, "…Did you see Cadlwell actually smiling this morning? I swear he was enjoying our pain…"
"That'll teach you to down three double gin and lemonades in a row…and then forget the lemonade entirely…before you hit the hard stuff…" John teased, "I thought you only pretended to drink…"
"This from Mr 'I'll have a triple vodka and coke'," she mumbled, "and then 'I'll order the ingredients for a drink that a barman can't legally serve and mix it myself when he isn't looking…'"
"If you remember correctly, Laura and Bessie started that…"
"I don't remember a lot correctly…" she moaned.
"You have to admit, drunken Teyla and Ronon were funny…" he grinned.
Elizabeth laughed, "That I remember. Who won their little competition in the end?"
"Who knows? I saw them line the shots up and I saw them down some of them, then I didn't see either for a while…"
"Interesting…"
John took a sip of his drink, "Well, Ronon was smiling this morning despite the hangover, so I think we have to assume something happened there…"
"And because we both ended up practically unconscious back at yours, you don't think people are thinking the same of us?" she raised an eyebrow.
"Ah, but something did happen there…or is happening there…"
"You mean when I grabbed you and swore I was going to kill you for doing this to me?"
"Was that what you said before I blacked out?"
Elizabeth grinned and remained silent.
"Please tell me you people don't party after the opening night…"
She folded her arms and leant back in her chair, smirking.
"Oh dear god…" John covered his face with his hands.
"Hate to break it to you John, but last night was training compared to what's likely to hit us on the opening night…unless we can escape, or, as is usually my plan, pretending to drink, as you mentioned."
He frowned, "Maybe this is a strange thought, but don't you ever wonder why all the critics and reviewers always have to be there on the opening night? Wouldn't it make more sense to let us…I don't know, get into the swing of things, and then tear us apart if they want, rather than jump on us for errors on the first 'proper' performance?"
Elizabeth shrugged, "Just how it works, I suppose."
"I got a phone call about a TV interview today. Some breakfast show or something," he grimaced.
"Really? What did you say?"
He twitched his shoulders, "I said I'd get back to them tomorrow. They'd want me there on Monday morning. Two days before we open."
She smiled slightly, "I'd do it, John."
"Why?"
"Why not let people get to know you, see you around, before they book or judge?"
"So I can have more people introducing me as 'that nobody'?"
"You've done TV before," she answered, stubbornly.
"I've done TV shows before. Very few people have ever felt the need to interview me," he corrected.
"You think I like having my little sister sticking a camera in my face at every opportunity?" Elizabeth picked up her chopsticks and poked at the noodles in her bowl experimentally, "People are going to want to interview you, especially after the opening. You dealt with the interviewers who came to the theatre," she reminded him.
"…I guess."
She shot him a weary glance, "Like I said, biggest inferiority complex I've ever seen."
"You chose to be an actress. I was booted out and told it might be a good road to follow," John muttered.
Elizabeth looked away, staring everywhere but at him for several minutes as they sat eating in silence. She finally set her chopsticks down and leant back on the table, "Do you really resent acting that much?"
"I don't resent it," he stated.
"But you resent having to be an actor?"
"I didn't have to be an actor."
She sighed, "…Come on, just give me something here. No audience, no director, nobody's watching. Its just me. I sure as hell know you think I'm a threat, because I think the same of you half the time, but that's my honesty, right there. Just give me something. What did you want to do with your life? If you could have done anything?"
"Elizabeth-"
"Come on, John. Neither of us ended up like this because we 'wanted' to. Doesn't mean we don't love it or want to do everything over again. I love being an actress. So it wasn't my first plan, doesn't mean I'd change it for anything."
He regarded her with a dark expression for a long moment before he began to speak, "…I wanted to fly."
"Fly fighters and planes?" she pressed.
John nodded, "Back when I had the mind for mathematics. You have to be able to calculate, and damn quickly, to be a decent pilot. They thought I could handle it…" he trailed off.
She almost reached across the table to him, then thought better of it.
"But hey, who wants a pilot you can't read?" he continued, voice all too perky.
"…And who wants a diplomat who knows she's in a room of actors?"
They finished their meal in silence.
It was when they were heading through Leicester Square that Elizabeth finally spoke again.
"…You want to check out the competition?"
John glanced at his watch, "Now?
"Not now. I mean get tickets."
"I thought they were booked up."
She shook her head, "You can get discounted tickets around here. Awful seats, but that's what you get for not booking. We could probably find somewhere for tomorrow night."
"If you want, let's go for it," he answered, "could drop a few comments during that breakfast show."
"Sabotage?" she pretended to be shocked.
"Never," he shot her a brief smile, "As You Desire Me?" he continued.
Elizabeth had to stop herself smiling when he mentioned the production again, "…There are too many answers to that…" she shook her head, "But yes, if we can get tickets. I wouldn't mind seeing how Scott Thomas plays Elma."
"You mean compared to how you would have played her…"
"Never," she took her mobile phone from her pocket, glancing across the square to enter two numbers of different agencies into it, "I'll phone them in the morning. I don't particularly relish the thought of fighting my way through any packed tourist lines right now."
"Hey! That's Elizabeth Weir!"
She took a step back and bumped into John, who steadied her. Looking warily around the square, she tried to locate the voice, breaking into an automatic smile a few seconds later, knowing she was being observed.
"Ms Weir?" a group of young men and women, who appeared to be in their early twenties, approached them cautiously.
"You can make a run for it…" John mumbled into her hair.
Elizabeth shook her head, smiling again, "Yes?"
"I knew it was you!" one of the girls smacked one of her friends on the shoulder, "Its nice to meet you," she looked up at John, "Oh…I recognise you…"
"John," he began.
"John Sheppard," another of the group finished, "Everyone's talking about you."
He frowned, "…They are?"
"Of course! You beat out a lot of people for your part!"
"Would you mind signing this?" the first girl held out a small notebook, suddenly shy.
"Not at all," Elizabeth searched for pen in her bag, then quickly signed her name, "There you go."
The girl then surprised John by holding it out to him, "Would you mind, Mr Sheppard?"
"I, erm, sure," he took the pen Elizabeth offered and signed his name beside hers.
"Thank you very much!" she reclaimed her book and looked up at her companions, then checked her watch, "Oh god, we're going to be late!"
"Nice meeting you!" one of them waved as they started to move off.
"Thank you!" another shouted.
"Good luck with your opening!" a third smiled.
John was staring after them, a little stunned, until Elizabeth nudged him.
"Well. 'Mr Nobody', is it?" she smirked, "I'd say those girls liked what they saw," she teased.
"Enough of that," he nudged her back, "You think I didn't see those guys' eyes wander?"
Elizabeth smiled and continued on through the square, "Welcome to the world of lust and fame, 'Mr Sheppard'."
Elizabeth returned home, alone, to find a message on her answer phone.
"Elizabeth? Its Aimee. I just wanted to talk to you before I send this tape off to the BBC. Well, take it to the BBC anyway. Its nearly done, I just need a few more minutes to piece together. I don't mean I want to film you, I just want to chat. I thought being at the theatre meant we could spend some time together, but we've both been so busy it hasn't worked out like that. I miss you Lizzie. I'll see you tomorrow morning sometime."
That was another thing that had been worrying her. Having another 'Weir' on the credits of the documentary was sure to bring trouble, so she thought. If Aimee praised the play and the cast too highly, she would be accused of bias. Elizabeth almost hoped she would trash them. But she knew Aimee was exceptionally good at her work, otherwise she wouldn't have been sent, or be expected to handle the filming of a documentary, with such a quick deadline. As she went to bed, she pushed aside the thought that there was an apprehensive quality to her sister's voice that unnerved her.
Mid morning break the next day and John was ready to pounce, waiting for Elizabeth to leave the stage after an extended scene with Sora. As the little girl left the stage, he grabbed her as she ran past, swung her round and into the air until she screamed with laughter, then set her down again. Sora beamed up at him before she ran off backstage, leaving Elizabeth behind her, leaning against the wall, smiling.
"And secretly good with kids," she walked past him, feigning reluctance as he grabbed her round her waist and hauled her back to him.
"And secretly pursuing…" John paused, frowning.
"Something?" she attempted to provide a word.
"With Elizabeth Weir," he finished, kissing her, "…Though she claims we have no relationship…"
Elizabeth kissed him hungrily, a grip on his shirt, "…We don't have a relationship," she insisted, taunting him.
"We just have-"
"Something," she finished.
"Something'll do for now," he kissed her again.
In all honesty, Aimee had only been standing aside the stage to film Sora running off, wanting to capture the little girl's enthusiasm, and finally slammed the capture portion of her camera back against the main unit, having captured more than she had intended. She sank back against the wall, sighing and shaking her head. She was going to hate herself in a few days time. More than she did already. But she'd come too far to go back. She coughed loudly and strode out from her vantage point, pretending to be fiddling with the camera. When she looked up again, her subjects had, thankfully, jumped apart, "Hi. Sorry, I just had to get a shot that sliced backstage and the stage itself," she smiled and ran a hand through her blonde hair, "Lizzie, could I talk to you later?"
"Sure," Elizabeth answered, effortlessly slipping into a 'cool, calm and collected' persona.
"Thanks," she wandered further backstage.
Once her sister was out of sight, she turned wild eyes on John, "Do you think she saw?"
"I wouldn't say so," he answered, "I think she would've said something if she had. She seems the honest sort."
"John, if she saw-"
"Ms Weir! Mr Sheppard! Miss Wyatt! Keep to schedule please!" Caldwell called from the stage.
"Then she saw," John replied, "and there's nothing we can do," he gave her a little push toward the stage."
Elizabeth was so shaken she instantly took shelter and became Rose as she stepped on stage.