Title: Thine Own Company

Author: Snow'sLuckyCat (aka orangetabby2003 aka Sharma)

Disclaimer: Yet a FIFTH time do I say this: Me no own. You (TPTB) no sue. That basically goes for everyone ever involved in any process of making SGA a TV show. You know who you are.

Categories: 1st person POV (a double dose), Angst, Humor, slight AU (you'll know where).

Rating: T…possibly, a strong T…but a T nonetheless.

Pairing: I'm not telling…;)

Spoilers: up through the end of 1x16: "The Brotherhood."

My Muses: Many thanks, yet again, go to merlin7, because she STILL hasn't stopped rocking my sox. And to rogue1503, who was the person who inspired this much-held-up leg of my fic journey. :)

Many thanks also go out to those of you, besides Shelly and Kathy, who have deemed one or more of my other 4 SGA fics worthy enough to review. You know who you are: MandyK (who can have all the LIFE-SIZED choccy Sheps, Rodneys, and Carsons that she wants), nebbyj, Laheara, Xtin2000, Jenn R, Zimbing, highonscifi, Andrea, Marla (who can also have a choccy Shep), Saharasia, Espiritu, Buffynick, Werewolf's One, and Dr. Dredd. :)

Summary: The waiting is the hardest part… (Bad summary, but please R&R anyway…)

NOTE: This fic is the 2nd follow-up to Thine Own Mortality and goes right after the 1st one: Thine Own Misery.

SECOND NOTE: This chapter is from Weir's point-of-view, even if it doesn't start out that way…

WARNING: Bring a few tissues…just in case. :)

XXXXXXX

And - Away We Fly!

XXXXXXX

I tear myself open; I sow myself shut.

My weakness is that I care too much.

My scars remind me that the past is real.

I tear my heart open just to feel.

- "Scars" by Papa Roach

XXXXXXX

Part One: Accompanied by Conscience

Everything is devoid of life. I've been traveling through these hollowed halls for sometime now. They're not white and there's no light at the end of the tunnel or anything, so I figure I'm not dead. Right?

I am starting to feel kinda tired though. Maybe I should take a break…I sit down in front of the nearest wall, and sigh for what seems like the umpteenth time in the past 20 minutes.

Also, not for the first time, I find myself wondering about the answer to the question: Where is everyone?

Elizabeth?

McKay?

Ford?

Teyla?

Anyone?

But, yet again, no one answers my calls. And so, regaining my feet, I continue plodding forward, my footsteps echoing up and down the eerily empty Atlantian corridor.

XXX

"Wake up, John," I mutter for what seems like the thousandth-and-one time in the past hour alone.

I've actually been here for two, soon to be three, though.

The suns are well up in the sky, but everything's still…quiet…calm.

Everyone's still asleep.

Everyone, that is, except for me and Carson and a night shift nurse.

From my point of view, all I can see are the bandages and one side of his bruised face. John's forehead is presently swathed in the sterile strips, which serve as a stark contrast to his dark hair and green eyes, the latter of which I haven't seen since last night.

I miss those eyes…

Dammit, I want them back!

I want to see them again…

But, apparently, John is still not following any of my direct orders. Even hurt and unconscious, he is a formidably stubborn person.

In fact, he hasn't even moved one single solitary muscle since he collapsed. Usually, even unconscious, he thrashes about in the throes of dreams and nightmares. Always fighting his way back to consciousness in record time, despite all the odds stacked up against him.

Any other time, he'd be back with us by now.

So, what's different this time?

You rejected him, remember?

Not you. Not again.

Well, who else can keep you company, Lizzie? It's not like Carson wants anything to do with you. He knows, you know…

Knows what?

The truth. Of how you exacerbated the Major's condition with your silly, little games. I don't think that John was up for that last night, especially after your little last-minute switch-a-roo…

How was I supposed to know he was going to make a pass at me!

True, but you could have said 'no' from the start or you could've stayed when he asked you to. You're just too wishy-washy, Lizzie-dear…You never know what you want for good, do you?

Well, I know it's not right. Think about it: What would the others think? Something…anything…like a romantic relationship would undermine our authority, as leaders and as coworkers, not to mention the fact that it could get extra sketchy for me, because I AM above him in "rank." Technically.

That's right, Lizzie. Technically is the only thing stopping you from a meaningful commitment to a man we both know you sincerely love.

So, what if I do? There, I've said it. I love him.

I love you, dammit!

I said once that I wouldn't beg like this for anyone, not for Simon, not for you, not for anyone else …

So, why are you pleading with John now?

Because I don't care about silly oaths anymore, not out here, not when we're all on the verge of annihilation.

Anyway, he can't hear you. Like you already know, he's unconscious.

Unconscious, he may be. But he CAN still hear me.

And how do you know that?

I just know…

XXX

"Ma'am?"

An oddly soft-spoken male voice startles me, dragging me away from the internal conversation I'd been having with my conscience. Thank God for the interruption.

The voice belonging to the man, who's now apparently standing behind me and off to my right a little ways, is Lieutenant Ford's. It can only be Ford, because he is the last one to still call me ma'am. John has been calling me Elizabeth a long while now. Even before we kissed. Even before we almost made love. I don't mind though. It's that type of military protocol I never really understood anyway.

So, when he stopped caring about the 'Doctor' part in my name, I stopped using the 'Major' part of his. So, it's now just John and Elizabeth for the most part. John…Damn him. I want you to wake…up…now! I don't care if Carson says you'll wake up when your body has had enough rest. I want to know that you're really okay; that you're really going to be "just fine," a prognosis that Carson keeps relating to me.

In fact, he's said it so much over the past day and a half that I'm beginning to wonder exactly who he's trying to convince. Everyone else or himself? At this late date and under the dire circumstances that we're barely surviving under? Probably both.

A throat clearing.

Dammit. Totally forgot about Ford. Oops.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" I ask, trying to keep my voice as even and neutral as possible.

Reluctantly, I turn around in my seat to face Major Sheppard's 2IC fully. I hope he doesn't notice my kohl-rimmed eyes. With luck, he has larger fish to fry than just asking about my emotional well-being.

Sure enough…

"I hate to bother you, ma'am, but Dr. McKay needs to see you right away."

Oh. Great. Another session of McKay gloom-'n'-doom. Just what I need. I don't want to leave. Not now. Can't it wait?

"Can't it wait?"

"No, ma'am," he says, pausing for a beat, then choosing to add just a bit more, as if for my benefit. "…Not according to him, anyway."

There's a tiny twinkle in his eye as he says this last part, a look that, despite all that's happening around us, garners a small, tired smile from this ol' beleaguered gal.

Though I should just go ahead and leave already, I try one more tact, no matter how whiny it may sound. "Why can't he come up here then?"

Okay. My voice didn't sound nearly as whiny as I thought it would. That's good news. Unfortunately, it still doesn't work. Oh poo.

"Sorry, ma'am, but I think his words were along the lines of 'It's imperative that she comes down here. Major Sheppard can wait. This can't.' So, I wager he can better tell you if you're in front of his computer station down in his lab…"

"Oh, really?" I comment, one eyebrow going up towards my hairline.

The lieutenant nods before continuing, "He also said that he's sick to death of the Major's insistence to get hurt every other day. And that he derives no further feelings of superiority or smugness from such a situation."

"Oh he did, did he?" My eyebrows knit skyward even further.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Anything else that he cared to pass along?"

"No, not really, ma'am. Just that it probably wouldn't take too long and that you could come back and continue your little bedside vigil - his words, not mine - without any further intrusions from him…or me either, for that matter."

"All right, I'll go. But, can you…"

"Stay here with the Major while you're gone?"

That is quite the perceptive suggestion, especially for a 25-year-old.

"…Sure I will."

Nodding my thanks, I stand at last, stretching the stiff muscles in my back and neck that are making themselves known. We should have brought some far more comfortable seats with us, instead of these Spartan steel deathtraps we got stuck with.

Reluctantly turning my back on John, I let Aiden take my place at his bedside.

I leave the infirmary, forcing myself not to turn around, in order to decrease any aroused suspicion of the changing relationship between John and I. Was it really changing though? And how can I make that sort of inference without talking to John first?

Behind me, I hear Ford's voice pipe up. "Hey, Major. It's me, Ford. I just got out of my first lesson with Teyla. Stick fighting is really cool. She told me I was quite the quick study. Can you believe that? 'Cuz I figured I'd royally suck…"

He's talking like the Major's actually listening; I guess he's hanging onto hope then.

I think I lost my own optimism of a speedy, uncomplicated recovery just over an hour ago.

Call me a realist.

As the sound of Ford's mildly elated voice recedes, the hustle and bustle of everyone else takes over, surrounding and swathing me in its normality. Well, as normal as daily routines get around here, when you're waiting to be wiped off the face of a legendary city by the scourge of the Pegasus Galaxy.

XXX

Rodney's "emergency" was a ploy. A ploy used to drag me away, figuratively kicking and screaming, from mindless, 1-person worry into an even grimmer reality.

Seriously, I had so much more to worry about than just the Major.

Like Rodney.

…Rodney's doomsday-addled brain.

…Rodney's know-how…or lack thereof.

…Rodney's pasty, pudgy limbs, and the trunk they're attached to.

…Rodney's everything.

So, in short order, I was definitely not in the mood to receive any sort of unintelligible, pessimistic outburst from the erstwhile and sequestered-in-his-lab Dr. Rodney "Let me dazzle you with my mile-a-minute, Dr.-Jackson-clone voice" McKay. I get enough of those at our daily personnel meetings. Why do I need an extra dose today of all days then?

Only time will tell. Specifically whose? Mine.

Let's see. I was already in a bad enough way by myself, because of John's…the Major's…unchanged condition. Anything more than that now are just more straws breaking poor camel backs. And well, I just won't stand for it. We've come to far to fall on our asses now, when it means the most to stand up and fight. Stand up and survive.

Now who's being morbid? Huh!

Shut it!

Irritated at my conscience's decision to voice yet another opinion of its own, I bang through the doors of the lab that McKay calls home. The move was, in retrospect, very uncharacteristic of me. But, damn the character. We are headed straight into galaxy-wide war, a thing I keep trying to remind myself of, in order to use it as an excuse for any impatience rearing its ugly head in my on-edge demeanor.

Before I can get a word of greeting or warning out, probably because of my reverberatingly loud entrance, he glances up from the lighted screen of a laptop. I'm actually a bit surprised he could hear me as well as he did. The computer whirring is noisier than it's been since Hurricane Adam blew here nearly 5 months ago.

"Good. You came. Honestly, I didn't think you would, what with the Major being as he is."

"Well, it was…no trouble," I lie.

I can just barely hear his reply to that, as he ducks his head back down behind his computer. "Liar…"

"What was that, Rodney?" I ask, despite full well knowing what was said.

"Oh…erm…nothing," he covers quickly, though not cleanly, face going as white as a 5-foot snowdrift in the dead of winter, aghast at the fact that he was caught red-handed in something.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." Ah. Curt!Rodney. Can't say I much like this version…

Eyebrows raised, I let his masked rudeness slide with only a slight tease and a soft sigh.

Some things never change.

"Now then, not that I wouldn't mind continuing to shoot the breeze with you, but the real reason that I had Ford summon you was that, well, I have an idea." He punctuates the air with a rigid pointer finger in delight, or at least as much delight as he can muster.

Ok. Ok. Time to speed this train along to the end of his scheduled line. "Cut to the chase, Rodney. An idea pertaining to what exactly?"

"I believe that…I have found a way to…reach Earth?"

"HOW!" This new development I definitely did not expect.

"Don't go getting your panties in a bunch…"

Funny, I always picture John saying that before…

"…but it's not a long enough window to send actual people."

"Oh." Disappointment is obvious, although I should've known better than to hope.

Struggling to regain my composure, I continue. "So you were thinking of sending something else then?"

"Yes, of course. I've run out of floppies though. There has to be a better way…There's just way too much info that needs to be sent. "

"As I am well aware. You wouldn't have possibly tried any CD-ROM's yet then?" I hazard, trying to be helpful.

"Wait. Wait. Just thought about something. I have an even better idea." He pauses as if he's said too much.

"Well, what is it?" I prompt.

"A data burst."

"A what?"

But, he's no longer really paying attention to me. He's completely hidden behind his lil' screen again.

"Not now, Elizabeth. It might not even work. I'll know soon enough."

"And you'll…"

"Yes. Yes. Yes. I'll keep you posted. As if you even needed to ask."

"Well, that's…nice. Was that all though?"

Momentarily, he pauses with his tap-tap-tapping and his head pops up over the top of his station. "There was one thing…I think someone tried to poison me. The chicken I had last night was baked in something that seriously smacked of citrus fruit."

"Now, Rodney," I start warningly, "We've been out of Earth food supplies for a long while now, so there is no way lemons got into last night's anything. A fact you already know is true."

"Who said anything about lemons? I just said SOME citrus fruit."

"Some alien citrus fruit," I counter gamely.

"Yes. But does that change its citrus count? NOOOOOO…."

"Ok. I'll make sure that whatever Billy used in his special marinara sauce he doesn't use it again."

"Okay. Good." And, with that, the head that geeks built ducks back down once more, turtle-like.

"Not that we'll be eating any more chicken for a long while, if things don't go our way…" I muse, turning away from the blue-eyed man and his tap-tap-tapping, already knowing that I was not heard.

Free at last.

Once out in the hall, Rodney's door now firmly closed behind me, I look around, hoping that Radek isn't lurking around like he usually does in this part of the city. No one's around for a change though and I leave quickly to keep it that way.

XXX

I need to change. I feel kinda sticky. And dammit all, I'm just remembering why. I spent the night with John in the infirmary. I haven't showered in two days since he and his team left for Dagan the third and last time. And on top of all that, I hadn't even changed clothes either.

Yep. To my room I go…before I infect anyone else who pays attention to smell (Rodney - usually), yet isn't too distracted by a computer to notice it (also said Rodney).

And John? Well, I already miss him, but he'll just have to wait a while. Besides, he'll probably respect me more in the morning anyway. A sweet-smelling boss is better than a sour one, as any infirmary patient out there will attest. At least I'll attest. I know from experience after all.

I had my appendix taken out a few years ago and my mother and grandmother came to see me at the hospital. My mom, upon entering the recovery room, smelled like raspberry truffles. My grandmother? Not so much truffle, as mothballs and rubbing alcohol, mixed with something even less savory.

Bug repellent.

Ands who hugs me, you ask? Of course, it had to be her - my grandmother, complete with a great big bear hug. I nearly passed out from the heady combination of grossly incongruous scents…

So, yeah, I don't want to pull that kind of trick on John. He'd never come to my room late at night again.

That was after you had teh eye sex for the first time, wasn't it?

I thought I told you to shut it?

That was an hour ago.

So? Does it really matter how long ago I said so?

Give me a time limit then.

I can't believe this. Now, I just want John to wake up so I can wring his scrawny neck. Why?

Because…before last night…my conscience had only bothered me really when we screwed up the Geneva Convention. Let's face it. We more than violated it; we did away with it; we cremated it and danced on its ashes. Now though, it seems to be hallowing itself out, ignoring the important stuff like policy and protocol and the chain of command. Instead, it's heading into the pointless realm of fawning over certain men who suffer with certain crazy bedhead afflictions.

Ah. Here we are. Room sweet room.

As soon as the doors are shut safely behinds me, I go into my bathroom, dropping clothes along the way.

XXX

Once underneath the water cascade, I relax. It's the first time in what seems like forever I can.

I wish I wasn't alone though. I want John. I NEED John. I want him here with me now. I want him to be able to relax like this with me. But, my wishes and desires go unanswered and I remain alone…

XXX

For some reason, I find myself winding up outside Lizzy's room. I have been pretty much everywhere else after all. No people anywhere. No McKay in the lab. No skeleton crew in the command center. No one. I put my ear to the door. I should feel like a peeping tom. But I don't.

And I don't hear anything though. My boss's room is just as empty as the rest of the City.

Wait. I take that back. I hear…water running.

I think the door open and…ta-da…I'm inside her inner sanctum, a place I shouldn't be entering without permission, but I can't stop. I'm too curious. And, hopefully, this time, curiosity doesn't kill me.

"Elizabeth?" I call. No one answers though. And I wonder if I was hearing things before or something.

Then I see her. She's in the shower. Water cascading down over her long, dark, mocha-brown hair and slim shoulders, running down her smooth, tanned back, to collect on the small of her back before trailing down her legs and finally briefly pooling around her feet before vanishing into the air.

Well, that's Ancient technology for ya.

Ain't it grand?

God, she's beautiful.

I need to touch her. To make sure she's really all right. To make sure she's not crying or anything. I hate it when she cries. I've only see her once though. And that was enough.

She was in her office after the hurricane had finally ended. It was a harrowing couple days for us all, but it was mostly for her and Rodney. They were POW's in a sense. Spoils for the Genii to do with whatever they saw fit to do. And if Ford and I hadn't got 'em back when we did, I know my whole life would be dramatically different right now.

If I was even still alive myself, but without her, I'd be just going through the motions, unfeeling, detached, emotionless. Good for nothing and nobody.

I'd be a suicidal mess without Lizzie. And I think she knew it.

I call again to her, expecting her to scream bloody murder.

She doesn't dignify a response. So, closing the remaining distance between us, I reach out, and…

XXX

…Someone touches my shoulder. And I know it isn't John…it can't be…he's still in the infirmary, dead to the world. But, I find myself turning around, in spite of knowing all that, and there he is. Standing outside the shower stall. Just looking at me. Staring at me.

My thoughts spin quickly through my mind. How the hell did he get out of the infirmary without Carson knowing? How long has he been here? Why didn't I hear him enter my quarters? Why didn't he knock first?

That last part's especially not like him. Even so, this not-John man very well looks like the major, but isn't acting the part at all…so far.

He reaches out towards me then, soothing my fears and nervousness with a single word. "Elizabeth."

The voice shatters my hesitation, and I close my eyes, giving into the gentle caress that that is tickling me, the hand that is presently tracing its way up and down my body.

I close my eyes, relishing the kind of touch that I haven't felt in a long time. But, when the contact abruptly stops only a little later, I open them again and am shocked to discover he's not there anymore. In fact, I'll go as far as to say that he'd vanished just as speedily as he'd initially appeared…

XXX

One minute, I was silently there, soothing her, being with her. Next minute, I feel ill. Violently ill. What gives? Reluctantly, I run away. Only I'm not running at all.

I'm falling…

Down through a tunnel of midnight nothingness…

XXX

…And I find my own hands are resting where his right one had first touched me only seconds…minutes… hours…ago: my right shoulder. But, it was cool and wet to the touch and the shower was still running over me from above. Like nothing had ever happened.

Had he really been there or had it all been just a fantasy, only real in my mind's eye? It had probably befallen me to continuing to survive under too much stress?

"John?" I call, feeling really stupid. He was just here after all.

I get no answer in return, and am instead left once more alone, with only my conscience for company.

XXX

Distantly, I hear her my name being called by a woman's voice.

It's Lizzie's voice.

I try to answer.

Desperately.

Brazenly.

But, to no avail.

Then, there's nothing but heavy silence.

And I find myself screaming out in pain, the pain of losing her to the darkness now surrounding me.

XXX

Still feeling disconcerted, I finish dressing in a fresh uniform, though I shuck the jacket and leave.

Still no Zelenka lurking around.

Good.

Aside from a few passerby, the few that already know about John from Carson, Lieutenant Ford, or Rodney, I'm unhindered this time, making it back to the infirmary in only a few minutes.

Upon reaching the door, however, I hear voices. Many voices.

"And you're sure he really woke up?" Rodney's whine.

"Yeh ah am, Rodney. Ah am the doctor aftah all." I smile at my chief surgeon's small bit of cheek.

"Have you told, Dr. Weir? She'd probably wanna know, ya know…" Ford.

Ah. Time for my entrance, I suppose.

"Wanna know what, Lieutenant?" I ask innocently, trying to successfully hold a smile from my face.

"That the Major's woken up, ma'am," he says quickly, slightly reddening like I've just caught his hand in the cookie jar before dinner.

"Ah. Elizabeth. There you are. I was quite surprised to see that you hadn't returned…"

The unsaid part of Rodney's assumption was crystal clear. He disapproves of my recent behavior. So fuckin' what though. It isn't the first and I doubt it'll be the last time that we'll disagree on something personal.

I do have to remember the whole Chaya/Athar thing though. So, maybe he does have some leg to stand on after all. Whenever I bring up the story of what exactly happened on Proculus though, he mutters about "Kirk Syndrome infecting the major" and that "the major must have had some sort of private conquest to bed down with every alien babe from here to the other side of the Pegasus Galaxy and back again."

Or at least that's all I get from Rodney about the "whole cursed fiasco."

First of all, what the hell is Kirk Syndrome?

I never really watched Star Trek when I was a kid, as I was much more of a Star Wars gal myself, so all I recall about it is somebody named Kurt…or was it Kirk…was the captain of a space ship called Enterprise…

And WE are most definitely not on a space ship. And John is most certainly not just a captain.

Secondly? Secondly? I just realized…there is no secondly.

So, pointedly, I change the subject. "What about the data burst? Will it work?"

He noisily clears his throat before answering me; the long pause I'd just had is clearly forgiven and forgotten…or maybe just forgotten.

"Still working on it. I needed to take a walk and get some kinks out of my back first though. Besides, I wanted to see for myself how the major was doing."

"Kinks out yet?" I ask, with one arched eyebrow.

Putting on a show of trying to realign his spine manually, he receives a couple mild crackling noises for all his bending trouble. Nodding to us, he leaves with a rather odd sounding, "Keep me posted."

Ford, likewise, after taking a cue from the good doctor's quick exit, decides to take leave as well. "I think I'll go run the marines through some more drills. Gotta keep 'em on their toes, ya know."

Smiling, I watch him leave in the direction of the workout room areas to the west of the City.

Finally, I can really take in John. He still looks just as pale and still as before though. The bright red scrubs he's wearing only succeed in washing him out even more. The only differences are that his right hand has a new, small bruise on the back, and his perpetual bedhead is a bit wilder, if that's even actually possible. His lips are also now slightly parted and I can hear him breathing. Slow and even and steady. Good.

"Carson, when did he wake up?" I ask; I don't dare chance taking my eyes off the man resting on the cot.

"Ah. Just a few minutes ago, Elizabeth, accordin' teh Dr. Wilson."

"So, he's going to be all right? Right?"

"I think so. It was a very brief time he was awake. I'd sent Aiden out for coffee. He looked like he could use the break, the poor boy. Next thing weh know the Majah's eyes had flown open and he was going wild, trying to get out of bed. He even tore out his IV. Wilson had to settle him down again. Re-insert the IV too," the doctor explains, gesturing to the bruise on John's hand that I'd noticed earlier.

"Why didn't you try me on the radio?"

"Weh did. Three times. No answer. I'd just assumed yeh'd gone off to get some rest aftah Rodney got through with yeh."

"Close. I was taking a shower."

I can't believe that I just told him that. I must be losing my touch.

"Ahem. Well, tha' explains it then. Anything you need teh go an' do then?"

"No. Not really. Nothing that can't wait anyway."

Yeah. Like that's true. I probably have a hundred e-pads on my desk right now. Kavanagh's probably even out and about by now, wondering where the hell I am. I really should get back to my REAL job. Please let Carson say something, anything that will prevent me from staying. More tests for John? Checking his vitals? The end of visiting hours?

But, all he does is sigh, and relinquish his mini-vigil back to my care. "Well then, yur usual chair awaits."

What? No arguments? No pleas for me to go get real sleep?

Apparently, it looks like I'm not the only one losing my touch in lieu of the battle that's to come.

XXX

I must've dozed off soon after Carson went away on his daily rounds, because when I open my eyes, I realize my face is now resting in the crook of my left elbow on top of a corner of John's bed. My hands had both been carefully covering his free left hand, just before I dropped off.

The hand I'd been covering, however, is having other ideas. And John's fingers have apparently just flicked my face of their own accord.

Biting back a surprised yelp, I pull back and look at him. His eyes are closed, but there's a smile on his face.

"I wondered why I couldn't move my hand," he explains simply.

"John? Hey…"

"Hey yourself."

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah…a little sore maybe. My ass hurts, from all the laying down I've been apparently doing lately, ya know…" he cracks open one eye, roving around a bit before he settles it on me where I am, near the foot of the cot.

I grin at this most recent display of typical Sheppard cheekiness. Yep. He's still himself. No worse for the wear. That's for sure.

"Seriously though, we have GOT to stop meeting like this…" he goes on, finally opening his eyes all the way, both green irises now keenly focused on mine.

XXX

TBC in…

Part 2: Accompanied By Fate

Good? Bad? Queer? You just lemme know exactly which option you saw here…Thanks. :) G'bye now!