Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters...
Author's Note: Apologies to anyone who actually reads the crap I post here, but I've been kind of distracted by other stuff (and actually got sucked back into writing original fiction). This would be an example of the weird twist that I felt like throwing into the narrative style. It's probably more random than entertaining, but what the hay, it entertained me! Hopefully, I will get back to filling in the gaps in this one, enough to make it postable. (There is gore in chapters ahead, if you just bear with the bizarreness…)
Giggling aroused John's attention. It cut through the heavy dead air of the library like a sharp knife, noticeably out of place among the dusty tomes and muffled sounds of busywork. He pulled his nose out of the 'book' he was reading, which consisted of the assigned English novel that was due by the end of the week with a comic book nestled in between its open pages, and looked around. He identified the source of the almost sacrilegious disruption of Quiet Please. It was two girls from John's class; Elizabeth Weir and Teyla Emmagen.
Although not extremely close to the pair, John was somewhat familiar with the girls. Teyla had been in his PE classes, and was quite an impressive athlete. And Elizabeth had been his partner for social studies last year, in which they had to do several presentations and projects together. He wondered what could be so amusing to them that they'd risk bringing down the wrath of Ms. Eccleston, the gruff old librarian.
Elizabeth, briefly glancing around, caught him looking at them. She raised an eyebrow at him, just one, in a quizzical flirtatious manner, before Teyla realizing what had distracted her friend, whispered something into her ear. This caused them both to giggle again, releasing John from Elizabeth's gaze. He let out his breath slowly and pretended to return to his reading.
The trials and tribulations of Peter Parker's life no longer held the same interest for John, whose imagination had been captured by the giggling conspiracy of the two pretty girls sitting at a table across the room from him. He stole glances of them whenever he could. What were they up to?
He inconspicuously watched as Elizabeth pulled a small piece of paper out of a book and unfolded it, revealing its contents to Teyla. The olive-skinned girl seemed surprised by what it held, then a smile spread across her pretty face and again she whispered something clandestinely into Elizabeth's ear. This time, instead of letting a musical giggle past her lips, the dark haired, green-eyed beauty blushed horribly for a moment.
Then Teyla said something else, rising to her feet. Elizabeth regained her normally-creamy complexion and she stood, gathering her things up before following her friend out of the library.
John watched the pair of girls who just had proved far more interesting than he had ever considered them to be before as they made their exit, matching pigtails bobbing and plaid skirts swishing as their just recently widening hips swayed. After they disappeared from view around a stack of books, he decided he should probably try to actually complete his homework assignment.
He put it off for another minute more, surveying the library for any other potential distraction he could use as an excuse, but found none. That is, until his eyes roamed over the table where the girls had been sitting. There was a little white piece of paper sitting all by itself in the middle of the dark wooden surface, calling his name. He dashed over to the table, desperate to know its contents, that which had surprised Teyla, made her smile, and best of all made the unflappable Elizabeth blush.
Hesitating momentarily, he questioned whether it was right to pry into the girls' private business. But despite the questionable morality in the action, his curiosity was far more pressing. He just had to know! John reached out slowly for the note, allowing the moment to stretch out longer, relishing the anticipation, letting all the potential and intriguing possibilities of its contents play out in his mind. Finally it was in his hand, its secrets ready to be bared, when a voice made him jump.
"I believe that's mine." It was sweet, and surprisingly, not accusatory. And most of all it was familiar.
"Elizabeth, I…" John began as he turned to face the girl whose privacy he was about to try to invade. His heart was beating insanely fast at being caught. He held out the note to her. "Here."
"Thanks," she said, smiling sweetly, taking the folded piece of ruled paper from his hand. She turned and walked away. But John was far too intrigued to let it end without any closure for his wild imagination.
"Uh, Elizabeth?" She turned to face him. "What is it?"
Her smile deepened from sweet to mischievous and she winked at him before she resumed her departure without a single word and nowhere near the explanation that he had hoped for. It must be some secret. And John couldn't help but feel that it had something to do with him…
John awoke with a moan as he remembered the pain of the previous day. It was no longer at agonizing-level, but his body had become stiff from the trauma of injury. He blinked several times before he was willing to accept reality. Still in the godforsaken cave-cell. Still trapped. And still hurting.
"Well, it's about time, Sheppard!"
Maybe he could just pretend he was still unconscious…
"Or should I say 'Sleeping Beauty'?! I know you're injured but how many of hours of sleep could you possibly need?!"
"Nice to know you're still alive, too, Rodney," John replied to his friend's spastic harassment. The whiney vocalizations weren't exactly the most pleasant thing to hear after you've been sleeping off a terrible hurt. But he could see it from his friend's point of view as well. McKay never handled stressful situations well and being left alone to stew in his own thoughts for John didn't know how many hours with no focus for them was the worst possible prescription for one of his panic attacks.
He knew it would only send his friend off on another long-winded hyper-rampant rant, but John asked anyway.
"Figure a way out of here yet?"
A/N: 1. The seemingly random dream(s) will come into play later. 2. I don't intend for this fic to be shippy at all, but there are no guarantees about what my subconscious will do. Hopefully, if it must do so, it will be subtle or I will realize the error and purge it. 3. Comments are more than welcome and appreciated, but I fear that with this one, I'm bound to do whatever the hell I want. 4. Still looking for a better title…
