This one just wanted to be written. I love watching Sheppard and Weir be professional on the show… so here you are. Any poetry contained herein is actually mine.

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It was Elizabeth, just ordinary Elizabeth, and not head-of-the-Atlantis-expedition Doctor Weir, who sat down at the small desk in her quarters and sighed. She stared at the monitor of her laptop blankly, the rushing starfield screensaver mildly hypnotic. After a moment she shook herself, grabbed the mouse and clicked quickly past the in-house messages, the staff reports, even the research outlines that Rodney kept asking about.

Buried in a folder labeled 'impressions' inside a folder labeled 'planetary statistics' inside a folder labeled 'to do' were ten more folders, each with a label of letters and numbers. The fourth one down said 'EWP1'. She gave a rueful grin at herself, and wondered just who she thought she was hiding her poetry from.

As she glanced at the most recent entries, she frowned, shook her head, and opened a new document. In her mind's eye she replayed the recent discussion.

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"I have to go back for them."

"John –"

"I'm not going to argue about this. I should have been with them to begin with."

Elizabeth paused, scanned his expression and stance before going on. "Major. They're late, yes. But not that late. Let's give them another hour before we panic."

"I'm not panicking. I'm just saying –"

His sentence was interrupted by a familiar signal. A voice called from the control center nearby. "Off-world activation…" The man watched a moment, then turned with a wide smile. "It's them."

Elizabeth turned to say something to John but stopped when she saw his expression. He had tensed almost imperceptibly until the team of four came through the gate, clearly fine. Then his eyes closed, and there was a relief on his face as his body sagged that was unmistakable, however momentary. Feeling that she had somehow intruded, she was about to look away when he looked at her with his usual easy-going expression.

"Well. Looks like no worries, then." With a grin he headed down to the team.

Elizabeth stood and watched.

She knew the feeling.

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Sitting now, staring at the screen, her fingers danced across the keys, her emotions spilling out in the safest outlet she had.

I can see behind your eyes
the expression that hides your thoughts so well
hides nothing from me
I can feel the anxiety
that bubbles up
through the bedrock of your facade

when every eye looks to you
remember I am here

I can see beyond the noble bearing
so firmly held, so well controlled
to the tension that holds you
and know that if I laid a hand upon that arm
there would be a shudder in the stone

when every voice calls for your decision
remember I am here

I can see beneath the mask
so confident, composed
the very image of a hero
sitting lightly in our midst
I feel when our eyes meet
you know the truth

when your doubt extends to your very self

remember

She stopped, read it over once more. Her radio signaled and she answered automatically.

"Weir."

"Elizabeth? It's Sheppard. We're ready to brief you on the last mission. And Rodney thinks –" a voice interrupted the transmission.

"You don't have to tell her what I think. I'll tell her what I think. Just tell her that –"

Elizabeth sighed, but Doctor Weir answered.

"I'm on my way."

With a nod, she saved the document, buried the poems and the emotions that went with them deep under the load of work.

Someday things might change. Someday she might even show him her poetry.

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