Title: My weakness
Author: Samantha Carter
Email: Everybody can read.
Category: Romance? UST, thoughts, Sheppard/Weir angst, missing scene/epilogue.
Warnings: Season 2, Conversion, a little bit of swearing, nothing serious.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately they aren't mine, the whole thing belongs to some geniuses who live in Canada.
Author's note: I wrote this at 1:00 am after watching "Conversion" and in a very strange way it mixed up with a Moby concert on TV, then I sorta abandoned it for two months. I wasn't really sure if it was good enough to publish. Anyway, here it goes.Thanks a lot to Angel Leviathan who beta this fic!
She entered the room.
It was dark…in every sense of the word.
No sound could be heard…
…She couldn't see him.
His face was in front of her… no, not his face…its face, but beneath she could see him begging her to do something, whatever she could do to help him get rid of this pain, of this entrapment.
Suddenly his hand was at her throat - she gasped for air and could only feel the foreign feeling of 'its' skin against her throat.
…But this time he didn't let her go, he didn't stop...
Elizabeth bolted from her bed gasping for air. Instinctively she brought her hand to her throat. Trying to calm down, she sat down on the floor still gasping, crying.
…Just a bad dream…
"Don't let me lose him, please…"
"A scarf in this weather?" asked Rodney, on entering Elizabeth's office. She just looked at him without offering an explanation.
"Do you want me to turn on the heat?" he offered.
"No, that's okay."
"So, what's with the scarf?" Elizabeth froze for a second, until she straightened the word in her head; scarf, not scar.
"Did you need something Rodney?" she asked, in a non-diplomatic tone.
Rodney was a little surprised, but he started to babble as always.
She woke up to a distant sound, something that sounded distinctly like a sad gospel choir. Slowly, and still a little bit drowsy, she opened her eyes a little and saw the light of the moon through the curtains of her room. She felt the weight in her right hand. She was still clutching her copy of Dubliners. Still hearing the sad rhythm of the song she remembered she had fallen asleep with her headphones on.
Her neck and back were complaining due to her semi-sitting position; she stirred a little in hope of relieving some of the stiffness. She clutched the book in her hand a little bit tighter and remembered...
...The song...
...My Weakness…
It had never been one of her favourite songs, but the sad tone always sounded right whenever she found herself in this under-the-weather mood. In a very twisted way she loved and hated the song - it was so extremely sad that she could never stop herself from crying every time.
"This is my life we are talking about.""I know that…"
The song replayed. That was when she noticed the wetness on her face. She had been crying again. Unintentionally of course; Dr Weir never allowed herself such to express such an emotion.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and turned to her alarm clock.
2:41
The bright, aquamarine numbers could be read on her clock on the bedside table. The song kept playing. She pressed the 'stop' bottom and put aside all her things, trying, in vain, to go back to sleep. She knew she wouldn't sleep again, like she hadn't been able to for the past two weeks.
She hastily stood up from her bed, still clutching her book, and left her room, not even worrying about putting some shoes on. She had made it to the door when she saw her reflection in the mirror. She remembered and returned.
Elizabeth took the lonely scarf from the back of the solitary chair in her bedroom and wove it around her neck, covering the bruises.
At this hour not too many people were in the hallways of Atlantis, so she could walk slowly and peacefully, touching each wall and taking deep breaths, listening to the ocean outside mixing with the notes of My Weakness still in her head.
She walked towards the Infirmary, with the book still in her hand. It had been a present from John. She had never mentioned how special the book was to her, and it surprised her that he would have given her something so meaningful and precious.
"What is the worst that can happen? I die?"
The original book had been a gift from her mother. Her father, as a diplomat, had traveled a lot during her childhood, her mother always by his side, leaving Elizabeth in the care of her older and younger brothers.
The Weir family had already noticed that young Elizabeth, at only eleven years old, would follow in her father's footsteps as a diplomat. She was always trying to fix every row between her brothers.
They had just returned from Dublin. As promised, her mother had brought her a gift. They were usually books or special objects from the place they were visiting, something that would tell her about where her parents had been, something she could learn from.
In this case Dubliners had been the chosen book, a beautiful deep-blue hard cover. Her mother had given it to her, telling her to always take the book with her and think of home. The book portrayed life for common people in Dublin, 'a perfect picture', as Elizabeth's mother had said.
Elizabeth had read it eagerly and followed her mother's advice. Every time she found herself far from home she would look at the book, smell the pages, read a story and instantly she would be at home under the old oak tree in her backyard, on a hot summer day, reading away the hours.
"I'm not safe to be around anymore."
Unfortunately, the original book had been lost on one of her so many travels, when her suitcase had been 'mysteriously lost' at customs. For her first time in her diplomatic life, Elizabeth Weir had sworn like a sailor, in every possible language, at the customs' officer, demanding her suitcase. She had never got it back.
Her mother had listened to her story and said 'it will come back to you when you least expect it'. Elizabeth interpreted this as 'at the moment she would need it the most'. She had never got another copy, trusting, as always, in her mother's words. Had she been right?
During her firsts nights in Atlantis she used to miss the book. It was a memory so close to home. She had never mentioned the story to John, or anybody else on the Atlantis crew for that matter, so she was incredibly surprised when the now Lieutenant Colonel handed her a navy-blue, hard-cover copy of Dubliners the day they were returning to Atlantis.
She had said a very heartfelt 'thank you', but she had never asked him how he had chosen the book.
"John…"
"No…"
"I understand."
"If you won't… then kill me now."
"John!"
"It's better for the both of us."
"I can't do that."
When she arrived at the Infirmary, she was surprised to find only the guard nurse there, taking notes at the farthest desk in the room. Usually one of the members of John's team was there, or even Carson - someone was always 'standing guard' next to his bed each hour.
The nurse acknowledged her with a nod and continued writing.
Elizabeth took a seat next to John's bed. He slept peacefully, his heart monitor bleeping normally, his breathing even. And his skin was normal again.
Any trace of the Wraith transformation had already faded away.
And there, with his hand in hers, she lost command of herself, she couldn't control herself anymore. For a second, she didn't care if the nurse could hear her, or if she woke up John, this had been a nightmare, a fucking horrible nightmare. In an attempt to stop her sobs she put a hand over her mouth, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She could only see him, begging with his eyes to let him go, to let him do something, asking her to kill him there and then…
She couldn't take it anymore, so she stood up from the chair, walked as quickly as she could, and ran to the farthest pier of the city.
"You two are pretty close, aren't you?" he asked, almost shy.
She hesitated at his tone of voice, wondering how much to reveal, "…Well, we've been through a lot together, yes."
"You've got the best team in the galaxy working on a way to get him back to normal. My mind is on success."
Arriving at the balcony she released her hand and screamed, a horrific, soul chilling scream, and kept on crying.
How could she have let that happen to him? How could she have stopped people from helping him? How could she have so quickly let herself see who he was? What he meant to her?
How could she?
She kept screaming, to the ocean, to the stars above her. She couldn't see anymore, literally and figuratively.
She was a diplomat, not a fucking military officer.
Her screams stopped as her voice grew hoarse, but she still stood there, crying. She sat on the cold floor and hugged herself.
How had she got to this point?
She returned to her quarters by four o'clock, stopping by the Infirmary first. The nurse had been replaced and John was still sleep. She got close to him, taking his hand in hers. It was cold, and in silence she swore she wouldn't let anything like this happen to him again. She placed a kiss on his forehead.
"I love you, John Sheppard, and when I count my regrets and make a list, I'll put your name at the top."
She went to bed with the scarf still around her neck.
She was still awake when the first sunrays passed through her window.
Despite her sleepless night, Elizabeth arrived early to her office and threw herself into work, neglecting to eat breakfast and lunch. She had covered her puffy eyes with make up - the thing had to be useful for something.
Carson didn't appear until midday, and then it was just to report John's condition.
"He'll be in the Infirmary for another weak, until the retrovirus disappears completely. Then light duty for a couple of weeks, if he's able," said Carson, sighing, "the poor lad is going to get really, really bored."
Elizabeth actually laughed at the thought of John bothering everybody through sheer boredom.
"He's going to be fine," said Carson, almost too emphatically.
"I know."
He made a move to leave, but when he got to the door he doubled back on himself.
"Carson, is there something else?"
Carson's face showed he was struggling with something. In the end he just sighed, " I heard you Elizabeth."
Elizabeth didn't need more to understand what was he talking about. She just hid her head behind her computer.
"I'm… I'm not going to say anything, Elizabeth, but…" he paused whilst Elizabeth tried to find a place to hide, "but I think he has the right to know."
"Carson…" Elizabeth started to protest
"I… it's just a friend's advice," he responded. He said no more and quickly left her office.
Elizabeth leant back her chair and tried to stop her sudden tears, in vain. How had she got herself into such a mess? She reached into one of her desk's drawers to get a tissue, but her hand found her copy of Dubliners.
…He has the right to know…
"Don't let me lose him…please…"
THE END