Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or its characters…

Author's note: I wrestled with posting this section for awhile. I'm not sure where this story is going. I have an idea, but I'm not sure how to get there. Also, there were parts where I wasn't sure my third-person omniscient narrative is appropriate. The debate over its usage and the style of the story still rage on within my pathetic mind, the only place where it would matter. Anyway, perhaps someone will get some enjoyment out of reading this…

It was a beautiful place. The sun was shining and its warmth lifted her soul. There were flowers all around her. She was standing in a field on the edge of a glorious ancient forest. It beckoned to her and she was drawn towards it. There was perhaps something ominous about it, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. So she continued heading towards it without hesitation.

She heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks, amongst the knee-high vibrant flora. Someone was calling her name.

"Elizabeth."

It was familiar, deep and coaxing. And there was that hint of flirtatiousness that she would never fail to recognize, never forget. She turned around to face the handsome figure of John Sheppard. She smiled at him as he repeated her name and moved to embrace her.

"Elizabeth," he said, his voice edged with a graveness she hadn't noticed before. He held her firmly by the arms. "Focus on what I'm going to say. It's important Elizabeth."

She squirmed under his grip. This was making her uncomfortable. She only wanted to go for a walk through the mystical forest.

"John," she whined, finding that she could not free herself from him. "Let me go. I just want to go for a walk through the forest."

"Elizabeth, please," he tried again, maintaining his even tone despite the frustration apparent on his face. "You have to try and focus."

She only smiled at him. "We can go for a walk together."

"This is a dream!" he shook her, no longer able to control himself. He had tried a hundred times. And each time, it failed. This was turning into his own personal hell. She looked at him with big frightened eyes. Then he saw it. He could have kissed her! He let go of her arms instead. "Yes!"

She didn't seem certain of the revelation. She gave him a critical look.

"Yes!" he said, excitement lighting his features. "Give me the patented critical Weir stare. Think!"

"I don't understand," she said, still confused. "I'm asleep. This is a dream."

"Sure. Haven't you ever realized you were dreaming before?" he asked. "I know you have. I've tried this before. Almost every night, in fact."

"Wait," she said holding her hand up in classic Dr. Weir fashion, while she thought things through. "I'm asleep. This is a dream. Then, who are you? You must just be a figment of my subconscious…"

Sadness swept over her.

"…because John Sheppard is dead."

"No!" he asserted. "Well, yes. You think I'm dead. But I'm not, Elizabeth. That's why I'm here. I've been trying to tell you for…I don't even know how long!"

"What? You died! I remember that. That's reality. This is just some dream. My mind playing tricks on me."

"No! How did I 'die'? Do you remember? Was there a body?"

"No," she conceded.

"Exactly!"

"But Rodney and the others," she protested, still skeptical. "They saw you…you were vaporized."

"But I wasn't!" he argued. He didn't know what happened to someone after they died, but he was pretty damn sure this wasn't it. "The device just un-phased me or something."

"'Un-phased' you?" this was too weird. She definitely believed that she was dreaming.

"Ask Rodney," he insisted. "I don't know how this stuff works. But if anyone does, it'd be him. Please, Elizabeth. Tell Rodney."

He managed to muster the pouting look she could never seem to resist, despite the obvious anxiety that colored his features. And she couldn't resist the look now, even though she knew this was a dream. She conceded, nodding her head in concession.

"I'll try to convince Rodney," she said. "But you know how skeptical he can be."

"Convincing Rodney will be the easy part," John informed her. "Remembering is the hard part."

"What do you mean?" she asked. He sighed heavily.

"You don't remember do you?" he probed, already aware of the answer. "You never do. We've had this conversation at least twenty times. You never seem to be able to remember when you wake up."

"Oh god, John. I'm sorry," she genuinely felt bad, empathizing with the frustration he must have been feeling. She couldn't believe that even her patience would last if she was in his situation. "But what can I do about it?"

"I don't know," he seemed to reflect upon it for a moment. "Do you always wake up to an alarm?"

"Yes. But what does that have-"

"Maybe, if you tried to wake up before it went off, more slowly, on your own, you could remember."

"I don't know," she said slowly, hesitantly. "But I can try."

He smiled that typical smile of his, the one that made him look like a little boy who knew he was getting away with something. She had always thought it was his most charming feature.

"Elizabeth, you never just 'try,' " he said, finally looking as if he were ate ease. "When you set your mind to something, you do it. Please, this time, set your mind to it."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Elizabeth woke up. She looked around her dark room. It was still night. Why was she awake? What had woken her? There was something, something important, something that she must have dreamed. She sat bolt upright in her bed.

"John!"

She had to help him. She had to find Rodney and tell him that John was alive! He was alive and he needed their help. She jumped out of bed and scrambled for clothes. She found the things that she had exhaustively dropped on the floor before climbing into bed, promising to herself that she would take care of them in the morning. As she dressed herself, her pace slowed and the urgency gradually dispelled.

The certainty of her mindset faded with the residual effects of sleep. It couldn't have been real. It was all just her dream, an elaborate and convincing one, but a dream nonetheless. John was dead and she needed to accept that. Why couldn't she accept that?

She scolded herself horribly as she removed the clothing she had so hastily put on not a few minutes before. She needed to get through this. She needed to let him go. But why was it so difficult? Why was it so painful?

The knot that had begun to set up permanent residence in her throat appeared again, as it seemed to do with every waking moment. She fought it and the tears that accompanied it. She also fought the urge to scream at herself. The screaming had failed to snap her out of it when she had succumbed to the urge on pervious occasions, and the anger that accompanied it only had seemed to make it worse.

Elizabeth tried to shake the misery off. She thought of the work she had to do tomorrow, which teams were off-world, which science experiments were nearing completion, the number of reports she had to read and fill out. And the distraction worked, fooling her mind and body into relaxing. She seemed to breathe easier as she returned to bed. She only had a few hours to sleep until she had to face another tortuous day, another of what felt like would be an eternity of days without him.

A/N: If anyone has suggestions as to my afore mentioned dilemma, they would be much appreciated. Of course, I didn't tell you really why I'm having issues because that would ruin the plot. But if you really want to know/help, please let me know!