Contact
..
Post The Eye, S01E11.
Sparky, of course.
Set straight after the shield has been raised.
..
She can't believe it. The shield actually worked. The Genii were gone. They had Atlantis back. She had twice in one day thought she was going to die and she can't quite believe they are all standing in the control room in one piece, well, mostly anyway.
"Doctor Weir, sit down." John takes her arm and without hesitation she follows his lead and slides to the floor next to him. She is still trembling, though hopefully not visibly as it's taking all her willpower to hold herself together.
She feels a shiver run through her and the feeling of John's warm hand on her arm makes her realise just how cold she really is, it's not just the adrenaline wearing off that is causing her to shake… her clothes are still damp and though her hair has begun to dry – there is nothing worse than the feeling of wet clothes chafing against your skin.
"I'm sorry… about… you know." He lets go of her arm and she has to bite her lip to stop from letting out an unhappy sigh at the loss of contact. She can't remember ever feeling this cold, even in Antarctica.
"John, you did what you had to do. You have nothing to apologise for." She finds energy somewhere within and forces her face up, her eyes meeting his, so he knows she's being honest.
"I'm glad you are alive." He gives her that boyish smirk of his and she finds herself returning the smile.
The rest of her team look shell-shocked and pale... She takes a deep breath and prepares to stand up, she's rested long enough, her people need her... but John places a hand on her shoulder and pushes her back down.
"John," she frowns up at him. He looks worse for wear too and she wonders if her presence is comforting him as much as he is her.
"Everyone is fine." He tells her. "Just sit, there isn't anything we can do until this storm passes anyway."
Ford and Teyla are tying Sora to a chair, McKay is wrapping a bandage around his arm and Carson is sitting not far from them, his back also against the wall. He sends her a reassuring smile.
"Carson, can I do anything?"
"Nope, just a concussion, I'll be fine."
"Teyla, Ford?" She asks.
"We are fine, Doctor Weir." Teyla assures her. She and Ford head over to sit by Carson and Elizabeth feels herself relax slightly, some of that adrenaline wearing off.
She can't stop seeing John's face as he aimed the gun at her (well not her) but it sure as hell felt like it. She trusted him, hell of course she did… but having your best friend (well, her best friend on Atlantis anyway, that's for sure) pointing a gun at you, and particularly when it's the second time in a day that you have had a gun pointed at you… well it's nothing less than terrifying.
..
The exhaustion must have really set in because she wakes huddled against John, his arms wrapped around her and his breathing deep and even. Apparently, he had fallen asleep too.
"I didn't want to wake you." Teyla whispers from across the room. "But I think the storm may have passed." She disentangles herself from John's arms, a blush rising to her cheeks. She didn't have time to think about how it felt to be wrapped in his arms (because Christ it felt good) She needed to get her people back to Atlantis, who knew how the Malarian's would react to the situation. She certainly wouldn't be counting them as allies anymore after they gave up Atlantis to the Genii.
"John, wake up." She shakes his shoulder gently.
"Please tell me it's all over." He groans, opening his eyes and looking at her tiredly.
"It's over." She reassures him. "Let's get our people back."
..
John can't sleep. He supposes it's not surprising considering the day they had… he's still so wired he feels like he literally has electricity running through his body.
For over half an hour today, he thought that Elizabeth Weir had been killed. He's lost friends and colleagues before. He lost more than one during the war. There is something about Dr. Weir and the loss of her that set something off inside him, like a ticking bomb he felt it explode. He had planned on killing every single Genii solider on Atlantis and then some. Hell, as it was he killed over sixty people in a matter of hours, it must be some kind of record.
Though he didn't see her shot, though she wasn't even shot - he can't get the image of her laying in a puddle of her own blood out of his mind. It's as if his own mind had turned against him and though it never happened, the image feels real (and oh so vivid) and it just won't go away.
It's well after midnight and he's been tossing and turning for hours now. He desperately wants to see her again. He just wants to reaffirm that she's fine. He knows that she's likely (hopefully) sleeping but he just needs to see it, to be sure.
He finds himself standing outside her room contemplating his next step. He doesn't want to ring the doorbell and wake her and honestly, he doesn't think he can sleep if he doesn't do this. Oh, to hell with it.
He slips inside her darkened room feeling like he's really crossing a line, and he's urging the lights to remain off… but the moment he steps over the threshold there is a startled yelp from the direction of her bed and the lights flick on.
She's sitting against her headboard, knees to her chest. A look of pure panic darts across her face before she recognises him, and he feels guiltier than ever.
He's never seen her in her sleepwear before – it's just a singlet and the shortest shorts he has ever seen in his life. He looks away, a flush rising to his face. Why couldn't she wear a frumpy grandma nightie or something? He is a red-blooded male after all.
He opens his mouth to explain but can't even find the words, so he just turns to leave, resigned to the fact she's probably going to punish him for over-stepping his boundaries… sneaking into your colleagues' room in the dark of the night is normally frowned upon… but Elizabeth's voice stops him.
"Wait, John." He turns back to face her, but oh god, now she's getting out of bed. He tries to keep his eyes on her face, but his eyes betray him and flick briefly down her body before rising back to her face. Not the time John, nor the right woman to be ogling. "What's wrong?" She asks, taking a step towards him, looking concerned.
"Ah," he rubs a hand over his face, he feels honesty is the best policy with her. "I just wanted to – you know – make sure you were okay."
"By coming into my room, unannounced, in the middle of the night?"
"It's actually after midnight…" he tries smiling, she does seem to respond well to his boyish charms…
"Oh," she backs away and sits on her bed, landing heavily. He does his best to ignore the way her breasts bounce at the movement, he also tries to ignore the fact that she's currently bra-less. "I understand." She pats the bed beside her and he hesitates.
He's been around plenty of attractive women, he knows he can never go there with Weir, so this should be an easy decision… but there is just something so captivating about the leader of their expedition. Over their months at Atlantis they had become friends… and since his situation in the air force – she is the first person to show trust in him. If he's honest, he's slightly worried it's more than just attraction that he feels for her. "John, it's okay." She tells him again, her face serious.
He sits beside her and folds his hands awkwardly in his lap. He has to admit, though this was incredibly awkward, it did feel better than he had felt, tossing and turning in bed. Seeing her helps flush away those horrible and bloody pictures from his mind.
"It has been quite a day." She says quietly. He feels the bed vibrate and he turns to see she is shaking.
"Are you okay?" He asks with a frown. Surely, she can't still be cold. Her hair has dried, and the room is warm.
"I guess it's just the after effects of all that adrenaline." She lifts one shaky hand in front of her face. "Sorry."
"You don't need to apologise." He scoffs. "You are right, it has been a day – hasn't it?" He wants to take her hand in his, actually he just wants to hold her against his chest (again) and comfort her, but he keeps himself in check.
"John… I don't want to…" she sighs. "Will you lay with me, in an entirely platonic and non-" he cuts her off with a wave of his hand and watches her cheeks blush adorably.
"Of course." He stands and lets her get comfortable in bed, and then once she is tucked in he lays on the comforter beside her, close enough that he can smell her and hear her breathing. She sighs contentedly, and the lights dim, and then go off altogether. They lay in silence for a long time, and eventually he gives up and throws an arm over her and she tucks herself against him. Though the blanket keeps their bodies apart, he feels his body respond to hers. He hopes she chooses to ignore it, it's entirely involuntary on his part after all…
"Thank you," she whispers. "Near death experiences aren't really my thing."
"You dying isn't really my thing either." He chuckles. "Now sleep, we both need it."
..
She worries the next morning will be uncomfortable, that perhaps she has asked too much of him. They both know that in their position their friendship can never become more than that – a friendship. The night before she had talked herself into asking him to stay by reminding herself she had lain in bed with many of her girlfriends and there was nothing strange about that. Hell, as a teenager her best friend had been male, and they had slept in the same bed with nothing untoward happening. They are both grown ass adults – they can keep their hands to themselves. (Mostly).
Instead she wakes up and finds his arm slung across her body and a feeling of security envelops her. She smiles and turns to face him and finds him awake and looking at her intensely.
"This doesn't have to be weird." He assures her. "Sometimes we all just need a little human contact."
"I agree." She tells him. "Now, let's get this show on the road."
They would have a long day ahead. They had to rehash all of their experiences from the day before and carefully report the findings and ensure nothing like the storm, and the Genii could ever happen again.
"Thanks for not freaking out." He tells her as he heads out of her room. "I know what I did was kind of creepy and stalkerish."
"Coming to watch me sleep is very creepy." She tells him with a laugh. "But I forgive you, next time just ring the bell okay?"
She hopes he understands that when she says next time she means it. Though she wouldn't change it for the world, being the leader of this expedition is a lonely business. If they have any more near-death experiences – which seems to be a common occurrence, she hopes he knows he can come to her…
The End.