As a happy birthday to myself, I decided to post this chapter earlier than planned. This wasn't supposed to come out until next week, but the number of reviews have been low so I decided to post another chapter in hopes of prompting more reviews as a birthday present to myself. Feedback is the best present, after all ;)

Manic Penguin

CHAPTER 9

Because her everyday uniform was fairly unchanging (black pants, red top, grey and red jacket if she was cold, any variety coming in the length of her sleeves and the thickness of the fabric to adjust for variables in temperature) Elizabeth had all but forgotten what it was like to actually have to select something to wear, and the fact that she had to go shopping to make that selection made her life even more difficult. Though she knew she should have anticipated it, she hadn't come to Washington prepared for a formal event, and had run into a brief moment of panic when she realized that all of her credit cards had been cancelled before she left Earth.

Fortunately Jack had seen her plight, the look of panic in her eyes reminding him of years ago, back before he knew about aliens and Stargates and the location of the lost city of Atlantis, back when finding time alone with his wife while spending time with his young son and not allowing himself to go soft in the field had been his life, a pleasant existence, though one long lost, never to be recaptured.

Momentarily distracted from the sea of luxurious fabrics, Elizabeth thoughts wandered back to earlier that afternoon.

FLASHBACK

As they left the Pentagon, where their last sit-down meeting of the day had been held, Jack offered up a smile. "You look just like Sara did when I told her she needed to buy herself a ball gown," he said.

"Sara?" Elizabeth frowned, the name not ringing any bells.

"My ex-wife," Jack said. "I'm guessing that this shindig tonight was not on your itinerary."

"Hardly. I had big plans. I've got an appointment with Mario at eight that I'm going to have to cancel now," she said, scowling. Jack arched an eyebrow at her and mouthed 'Mario' in question. "The hotel masseuse," she added. "I did something to my back during the thing," Elizabeth explained, referring to the recent siege on Atlantis, "and I was hoping a good massage would help. Cheaper than a chiropractor."

Jack smiled. "And instead you have to get dressed up and stand around in high heels for hours on end with boring politicians who want to live vicariously through you while trying to find ways to avoid giving you the funding you need."

Groaning in protest, Elizabeth cringed. "I think I've forgotten how to walk in heels." It was enough of a challenge to walk in the low daytime heels she wore with her suits.

"Well, in that area I can't help," Jack said. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a credit card. "But I can help with the actual purchasing of whatever you'll need for tonight—something tells me that you didn't pack a White House appropriate dress in that carry-on you brought with you."

"I didn't bring a dress, period, Jack," Elizabeth said, gratefully taking the credit card. "Who is my generous benefactor?" she asked, looking at the nondescript card, just like all the ones she had cut up before leaving the galaxy.

"Your expense account," Jack replied. Elizabeth looked at him, shocked, and he shrugged, not offering any further explanation. "There's a ten thousand dollar limit, but it's gotta last you until you head back to the city so go easy. I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven," he said as they reached his car, a young airman waiting to drive him where ever he wanted to go. Elizabeth nodded and Jack got into the car, immediately hitting the button to roll down the window. "Oh, and Elizabeth?" Jack called through the open window. "Make sure you rebook with Mario for tomorrow night. I'll make sure you don't have to cancel again."

END FLASHBACK

"Is there anything I can help you find, ma'am?" a twenty-something blonde woman asked, drawing Elizabeth out of her memory.

"Uh… I need a gown," Elizabeth said. She smiled softly. "Obviously," she added, seeing as the boutique she was in sold nothing but gowns.

Twenty-Something smiled back. "For a specific event?"

"Black-tie dinner party. Governmental," Elizabeth said, her tone letting the other woman know that she was not at all thrilled at the prospect. She had been to hundreds of black-tie dinner parties during her career, all of them as boring as the last, and she didn't relish the thought of going to on when she was exhausted, nursing a growing headache, and valiantly trying not to think about the massage she had had to cancel that she had hoped would temporarily cure her back pain.

"Alright. When is this dinner party?" Twenty-Something asked.

Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh. "Tonight." Twenty-Something arched an eyebrow at Elizabeth. "It's a work thing. I didn't find out I was required to attend until an hour ago."

"Okay… well, why don't I take a few quick measurements and we'll go from there," Twenty-Something said. "You realize that you won't be able to be very picky on such short notice, right?"

"Never really been the picky type," Elizabeth said as she followed Twenty-Something toward the back of the store, shedding her coat and suit jacket along the way.

"Good to hear," Twenty-Something said as she grabbed a measuring tape and a sheet of paper to note Elizabeth's measurements on.

Ten minutes later Twenty-Something headed off in search of dresses in Elizabeth's size while Elizabeth took the chance to check in with the SGC.

After jumping through fifteen different hoops Elizabeth was patched through to John, which she was thankful for, considering all the scheduled missions he was signed up for with various SG teams. "Hey, it's our fearless leader," John said by way of greeting. "How's life with the sharks and minions of the devil?"

"Same as usual," Elizabeth said. "How are things back there?"

"Same 'ol, same 'ol. Caldwell's having some trouble with his baby so he's still over a week away, but other than that nothing to report," John said. Though her cell phone had more security protocols than the average Radio Shack piece of hardened plastic and wiring, the line was still more or less unsecured, leaving them little choice but to speak in carefully couched sentences and loose code.

Elizabeth frowned. "Anything serious?" she asked, worried that they wouldn't be able to get back to Pegasus if the Daedalus was having trouble making the trip.

"Nothing for you to worry about," John said in his most reassuring tone. "What's with the elevator music?" he asked.

The music in the boutique was not good, Elizabeth had to admit, and she didn't recognize any of the songs that had played over the sound system since she had arrived—though she figured that they had simply been released since she had been away. Crinkling her nose, Elizabeth said, "I'm shopping for a ball gown. No one told me I was going to be roped into a black tie affair while I was here. I haven't had such short notice since my cousin eloped—and even then I had a full ten hours to find a dress, shoes, get my hair done, and take care of all the other stuff I needed to do."

"It's moments like these I'm thankful that I've never had to worry about what to wear to those stick-up-your-ass shindigs. Dust off the dress uniform, shine the shoes, I'm ready in thirty minutes," John said.

"Yeah, well, that's nice for you. You don't have to worry about getting your legs waxed," Elizabeth said bitterly, once again wondering what procedure Teyla used to keep her legs smooth in her skirts that were slit clear to the hip and if it was anywhere near as painful as the waxing session she had scheduled herself for in two hours time.

"And hopefully I never will," John replied.

Elizabeth laughed, an honest-to-god laugh, something she hadn't allowed herself to do in far too long, and, not for the first time, she thanked whatever divine being had brought John Sheppard into her life. He was the only person who could make her smile most days, a true smile, not the polite one she had mastered over years of diplomatic missions and dealing with various politicians, and she could think of very few genuinely happy memories in the past ten months or so that didn't include John in some way.

"Thank you," she said, the smile still on her face but her laughter gone, for the moment at least. She knew that she didn't have to explain what she was thanking him for. She knew that he would know automatically.

"Anytime," John said, and Elizabeth's smile brightened because she could actually hear the corresponding smile coming across in John's voice. "So how are the meetings going, seriously?" John asked. "Samantha said something about Landry being pleased, but she didn't have time to go into specifics before she headed off with Doctor Jackson and the big guy."

Though she noted that John had used Daniel's salutation despite the archaeologist's instance that just Daniel was fine, and that, though she had seen John and Teal'c sparring in the SGC's gym, he had called him 'the big guy', while referring to Sam Carter, a superior officer, as 'Samantha', Elizabeth refused to allow the niggling thoughts, the ones that had plagued her since she put the dots together and realized that John had named his plane after Colonel Carter, to really dig in. She was actually starting to take on a more cheerful outlook on the rest of the day, if only because things were going well in her meetings so far and, at least for the next few hours, John was staying on Earth and therefore it was unlikely that he would get himself in any way injured, kidnapped, beaten, or killed, and Elizabeth wasn't about to let go of that cheerful outlook, not when she had several hours of politicians and military types trying to live vicariously through her adventures—and misadventures—in the Pegasus Galaxy to look forward to.

"The meetings are going well. So far we've managed to get approval for increased funding for scientific research for both bases, as well as most of the weapons and armaments that you and Lieutenant Ford cited in your report as viable defences against our new enemies," Elizabeth said, uttering the last part softer so that no one overheard her. The boutique was empty other than herself and Twenty-Something, and the blonde was on the other side of the store with a wheeled rack that already had several dresses hanging off of it, but, still, she was cautious. "General O'Neill and I still have a few more days of back-to-back meetings, plus the work we're going to have to do tonight to gain more allies on various governments' appropriations committees, but so far this trip has been a success."

"Leg waxing notwithstanding," John deadpanned.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, even though there was nearly two thousand kilometres between them and John had no way of knowing that she was glaring at him.

"Look, I've gotta go. Rodney and I are going to head into town; some of our orders have come in, but we've got to pick them up in person, the Air Force didn't want to foot the bill for delivery on top of all our other 'petty needs'," John said. Elizabeth could tell he was rolling his eyes—he had when she had first told him about how the Brass thought that the list of music, movies, sporting equipment, video games, and games was a bunch of whining and the petty needs of the Atlantis expedition would not be met. Thankfully General Landry, and probably General O'Neill as well, Elizabeth surmised, judging by the amount of hockey and fishing paraphernalia had been requisitioned, had managed to work it so that almost all of the 'petty needs' of the Atlantis expedition were met. The subscriptions to several magazines had been vetoed, as well as the request for an air hockey table—Elizabeth wasn't sure who had put that one on the list, but she had to say she wasn't sad to see that it was vetoed; there was not that much room in their designated recreational areas, though, she supposed, more areas could be designated for recreation once they checked more of the city over with their new members and the ZPM. "I'm probably going to head to a bookstore while Rodney makes sure all the tech crap is up to snuff. Any requests? Keep in mind I refuse to purchase any bodice rippers for you—you'll have to stock up on those for yourself."

"I don't read bodice rippers, John," Elizabeth said, refusing to admit to her secret addiction to the aggrandized storylines of romance novels. "Just pick anything you think I'll like. Just try to avoid anything too heavy on the topics of death and war—I read to unwind and get away from real life, not be reminded of it right before I go to sleep. And nothing too light. I like there to be a plot to a story, not just random characters running around pointlessly."

"Got it. Something light, but not cotton-candy fluff," John affirmed. He sighed heavily. "I'm gonna look like an idiot when I pick up our movies."

That brought a smile back to Elizabeth's face. They had ordered movies from several different suppliers, and most had been willing to ship them up to the Mountain for free, but one store had refused to budge on their shipping policies and it just so happened that all the movies that they had ordered from that supplier were starring George Clooney—for Teyla, and over half the other females on Atlantis. "Hey, it's your Air Force. If they'd just been willing to pay the, what was it? Ten dollar shipping charge on a two thousand dollar order? If they'd just paid that you wouldn't have to look like some obsessed fan-boy," Elizabeth smiled.

"Yeah, well my Air Force wouldn't have to watch every cent they spend if it weren't for you and your anti-military-spending activism," John replied, his voice light and teasing. They had playfully bantered about their respective views on the military hundreds of times since they met; there was no animosity there for either of them.

"Well, I should let you go. You've got a lot of shopping to do, and I've got to get a dress, shoes, do something with my hair, and endure a torture session before Jack picks me up tonight," Elizabeth said.

John coughed. "You've got a date to this last minute party thing?"

"Yep. And you know him, too. Tall, grey hair, quick wit, likes hockey and fishing, dogs are his favourite people," Elizabeth said. John remained silent. "I'm going with General O'Neill, John, and it's not a date." She smiled softly. "Why does it matter to you either way?"

"It doesn't," John said quickly.

"If you say so," Elizabeth said, trying to deny how pleased she was by the fact that, for whatever reason, John was bothered by the thought that she had a date for a DC snore-fest of a party.

TBC...

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