Elizabeth Weir was a woman with a problem.
She loved and adored Simon, but at the same time ... There was something about John Sheppard that made her ...
No, she told herself firmly, returning her focus to the task at hand. Until she realized that she couldn't remember what that task was. She had been working on something, she was sure. The latest update on the Athosians? No, she had already finished that ... right? The papers before her seemed to become more and more jumbled with every passing moment. Fed up, she left her office, quietly making her way out to one of the balconies overlooking the massive span of ocean.
Gazing out towards the horizon, she muttered, "Damn it, John."
A gentle, "I beg your pardon?" made her jump, and she turned to find herself facing a smug John Sheppard, leaning against the entryway to the balcony.
Immediately, she switched to professional mode, back straight, head tall, hands clasped neatly behind her back.
"Good afternoon, Major Sheppard."
John smiled again, before moving off the wall. "Afternoon to you too, Dr. Weir," he replied, moving ever closer. "Shouldn't you be barricaded in your office going over mission proposals?"
Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as he moved closer and closer ... before abruptly turning away from her, leaning against the railing, scanning the skies. Her brow furrowed in a scowl. Tease, she thought bitterly.
"Of course, I wouldn't mind a couple extra days off," he added casually, a sly grin settling on his lips.
Those lips ... she thought. I'd like to ...
"No," she muttered under her breath. I won't – I can't. Not with him. Think of Simon!
John had shifted his gaze to her. "Are you all right, Dr. Weir?" he asked. "You seem to be muttering an awful lot. It's not like you."
He was moving closer to her again, and Elizabeth hoped to God that he couldn't see how fast her heart was beating, how her hands were beginning to tremble. What was it about him that made her feel like a twelve year old girl? He was military, she reminded herself. He was a pain in the ass, he had no respect for authority, he never combed his hair, he was constantly flirting, he was always there for her ...
"Elizabeth."
His hands on her shoulders snapped her back to reality. She felt warm ... she was sure she was blushing. He called me Elizabeth, she thought, really feeling like a giddy school girl.
"I think Dr. Beckett should take a look at you," he was adding. "You look like you have a fever."
She looked at him. His smugness had been replaced by genuine concern, his eyes ... his eyes. She realized it was his eyes that got to her ... before the rest of him. She'd never really let herself get too close to him; after all, she was technically his commanding officer. But they were on an isolated post, a galaxy away from home and regulations ...
No. She was in charge, and she had to hold herself to a higher standard.
"I'm fine," she answered finally.
John let his arms drop, but kept his gaze on her, skeptical, but accepting.
"Well, then ... Good afternoon, Dr. Weir," he said, turning to head back inside.
Elizabeth stood still a moment, her mind whirring, thoughts bouncing off each other, until finally ...
"John."
He turned back to face her, that damned smile of his back. "Yes, Elizabeth?"
Hesitantly, she put her arms around his neck, softly kissing him, unsure of his reaction. When he deepened the kiss, she couldn't help but smile.
"What?" John asked, pulling back slightly.
Elizabeth giggled. "Nothing," she answered, firmly re-planting her lips on his.
Regulations be damned, she thought. No day but today.