Midnight Conversations

By Dragon's Daughter 1980

Disclaimer: Other than being a fan, I have nothing to do with Stargate: Atlantis

Author's Notes: Here's another peek into the "Eternity" universe. I would also like to wish everyone a Happy Veterans' Day.

"Can't sleep?"

Pausing in her typing, she looked up from her laptop to see him standing on the other side of the table in the empty mess hall. He grinned at her and held out a steaming cup of tea, while she accepted with gratitude.

"Thanks," she murmured, savoring the warmth that spread through her body with every sip of the fragrant drink. After walking around the plastic table, he set his own mug down and took the seat next to her. Taking one more swallow of tea, she felt the tension seep out of her back muscles before she set the hot liquid down next to her laptop.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, picking up his own cup and drinking from it.

"Just a little bit," she sighed. He studied her for a moment and then tapped her left shoulder with his free hand, "Turn around."

She was fairly sure that her exhaustion was making her thought processes slower than usual, but she wasn't able to follow his train of thought as she usually did. She stared at him blankly, "What?"

Smiling softly over the rim of his mug, he said with amusement, "Turn your back to me."

With a stiff shrug, she shifted in the chair until she was almost perched on the edge of the seat, her back facing him. She heard a soft clink when he set his mug down again before his chair scraped roughly against the patterned-metal floor of the mess hall. His hands were warm through her uniform when they settled down on her shoulders and she nearly yelped in pain when he dug his fingers into tensely coiled muscles.

"You seriously need to relax," he said quietly as he massaged her body with firm, but gentle motions. She sighed again and tried to melt into his ministrations, fighting the natural urge to tense up against the pain.

"I need to finish this briefing report."

"Your mother and sister-in-law love me," he pointed out, "if you're worried about that. Plus, your brother seems to have come around to the idea of me marrying you."

A soft moan of contentment escaped her, "It's not them."

"Your nieces and nephew love me," he continued thoughtfully, "so I don't see where you'd think I'd have a problem with your family."

"It's not my family," she maintained.

"My bother isn't going to shun you or anything like that," he told her in reassurance, working his way down her spine. "He likes you a lot, and for some reason, thinks you're a good influence on me."

"I'm not?" she teased. He dropped a kiss in her hair before confiding in her, "You are, but don't tell him he's right, or I'll never hear the end of it."

"I'm not worried about that," she said quietly. "And you don't need me to be a good influence on you. You never have."

"Then what's bothering you?"

"Nothing," she said with a shrug. Even though she couldn't see his expression, she practically felt his skepticism. She added futilely, "Really. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh," he said dryly, running his hands down her arms in a soothing gesture, "If this is about the IOA posturing again, screw them. We've got Woolsey, O'Neil, the entire SGC and the President on our side. Oh, and did I mention an entire city of people and more than a few planets who are backing us too?"

She twisted a little bit away from him to look at him, "So you're telling me you're not worried about the review board?"

He shrugged resignedly and sighed, "What can we do about it? Nothing. We've been together for two years, working together for three before that. We haven't let our personal lives skew our decisions despite any "personal involvement" and we've proven that it's not a problem for us to keep the two separate."

She nodded, "I know… There's a new member on the committee."

"You think he's going to try to make his mark by coming after us."

"I don't know," she sighed, leaning into him. He rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. "I just don't want to spend our honeymoon defending our marriage."

"I'll defend your honor anytime," he murmured in her ear. She laughed quietly, "I know, but he'll be coming after me, I hope."

"You hope?" his voice wavered with a blend of incredulity and chauvinistic outrage. She knew that he didn't like it whenever political enemies came after her, even though he knew and trusted her to take care of herself. She nodded as she said with a degree of primal satisfaction, "Then I can tear him into little bits."

She felt his shocked stare and she slipped away from his comforting touch to look at him. There was a mix of surprise, concern and a hint of pride in his eyes as he asked rhetorically, "Elizabeth Weir, talking about tearing someone to bits? What happened to the diplomat I first met?"

"She met the Reians," she responded dryly. "In case you haven't noticed, they're rather protective of people they consider family."

Taking his seat again, he chuckled lightly, "Like the time Medora threatened to take you back to Reiia if I didn't tell her who you were or when Matian came after Rodney in the Control Room because he thought Rodney was hitting on Tilda?"

"The latter," she said. He whistled, "Impressive. So, does this mean that if he tries anything, you'll pick up a coffee mug and threaten to bash his head in?"

She laughed, "No, of course not. Violence is not my style."

"That's not what Teyla says after your morning sessions with her," he said dubiously, but his eyes were sparkling with mischief. "Just how good are you at kakea anyway?"

She shrugged and smiled mysteriously before she switched to the melodious language of kakea, a highly defensive method of combat that was primarily taught to women, children and others who were not expected to fight, such as diplomats. Putting a hand on his arm, she teased, "That is for us women to know, and men to respect."

He arched an eyebrow, "That's not an answer, Elizabeth."

She grinned at him, "Is too."

"Is not," he argued back playfully, dragging his chair closer to hers. "For one thing, that wasn't English."

She giggled as she scooted back in her seat in response to his encroachment on her personal space. A half-gasp of surprise and pleasure escaped her as he closed the distance between their bodies. Just before he could have kissed her, he abruptly sat back in his chair, his expression bland and posture professional. Taking his unspoken lead, she straightened her spine and reached for her cup of warm tea.

"Colonel, Doctor," one of the crew said politely when he passed by their table on his way to the coffee machine. He had the look of someone who had been assigned to the eight-hour night shift for the duration of the Daedalus' return voyage to Earth and was somewhat desperate for caffeine. She thought he looked a little like Jennifer after a double-shift in the infirmary: exhausted and coffee-deprived. It was a little odd, though, to see someone looking like they were asleep on their feet when everything had been quiet on the trip. She made a note to check with Caldwell in the morning.

"Sergeant," her fiancé said casually with a solemn nod. She smiled graciously at the young man, "Good evening, Sergeant."

After the young officer had walked past their table, she turned to her companion and raised an eyebrow. He shrugged casually in response to her silent question. She rolled her eyes at him before she randomly choose a subject, "So what do you think of the Geology department's proposal?"

She didn't remember the precise details of the Geology's latest proposal regarding off-world security for its personnel, but she was pretty sure that he hadn't had a chance to read it yet. If he had, she didn't know where he found the time to sit down and do so.

For one thing, he had been occupied with intensive orientation and off-world exploration training for the newest members of the city's military forces who had arrived on the Daedalus. While most of the Marines were veteran SGC personnel, fighting the Wraith (who saw people, literally, as food) was vastly different than fighting the Milky Way's neighborhood bad guys (who could stick snakes in people's heads and control them like marionettes or torture and incinerate people with a look, depending on who the SGC were up against at the current moment), and that required not only a mental readjustment but also a tactical shift in strategy and operations.

For another, when he wasn't busy with the details of running over a hundred Marines and more support troops through exacting drills, he was helping her sort through the chaos that resulted from planning a wedding ceremony that would take place in another galaxy. That wasn't even taking into consideration the complications of having half their guests being Earth-stationed soldiers and the other half being normal civilians who had no idea that aliens actually existed, never mind that it was possible to travel to and live in other galaxies. It was insanity every Tuesday, just before the weekly databurst was sent to the SGC, as the two of them hurried to straighten out their plans and requests

(and the invitations and reservations and the caterers and the minister, no wait, the justice of the peace, no… maybe?, and the flowers, oh! and the bridal dress, how could they have forgotten?! then there were the bridesmaids and the tuxes that needed to be taken care of, wait, he would be in his dress blues, so not six but five tuxes because Daniel might not have a tux but David would, but speaking of dress blues, could he wear his Antarctic Service medal without raising questions? For that matter, wouldn't the press try to weasel their way into the ceremony because, after all, the President was in attendance? That was problematic. Maybe they could, should, just elope…It would save them all these headaches)

to Earth before the time passed for their check-in with their birth planet. All of this was, of course, on top of his regular duties… and she was sure that she occupied the precious amount of spare time that he did have with other activities that didn't necessarily require focused amounts of concentration, but that he devoted energy to all the same. He certainly slept soundly every night they were together, and Teyla had confided that the rest of his team was carefully shortening his hours on watch when they were off-world, to give him more time to rest.

In other words, she was fairly sure he would have no idea what she was talking about and that she could expect playful retaliation at the earliest opportunity. Still, the pranking she would have to put up with was worth seeing the challenge in his eyes when he realized what she was doing. Caught in a situation where he could, but didn't have to invent a response, he gamely said, "Yes. It needs a little tinkering, but it could be viable."

"Barring?" she asked, playing on his skeptical tone. He gave her a mild glare, but continued to play along with the charade until the crewmember had left. When they were alone again, he poked her gently in her ribs, where she was most ticklish. In reaction, she let out an involuntary and completely undignified squeal.

"You're evil," he pronounced with a mischievous look in his eyes. She laughed, "It wasn't like we could talk about anything else."

He tilted his head, "Well…we could have talked about our little escapades."

"What escapades?" she asked innocently, even as she felt her cheeks heating up. She knew what he was talking about, and while most of the "escapes" ran along the lines of him ambushing her in the corridors between meetings and dragging her off to a quiet section of the city for a good meal, there were quite a handful that did merit her reaction. He smirked, his flyboy charm turned on full-force as he said airy, "Oh, I think you know. That time out on the balcony by the South—"

"You are impossible, John Sheppard!" She knew that she was definitely blushing in embarrassment right now. She knew precisely what he was talking about, and that particular memory was an incident that she'd prefer to have stay firmly between the two of them. His only reaction was to shrug innocently.

"Are you finished with your tea?" he asked. She snorted, "No."

"Finish up," he said, putting aside his own empty mug. She rolled her eyes, but did as he asked because there was no arguing with him when he got that tone of voice. The few times she had, he had either dragged her away from work anyway (with a combination of cajoling, coaxing and mock threats that involved Ronon, Carson, Caroline or a combination of the three) or stayed by her bedside in the infirmary and politely refrained from saying "I told you so" when she woke up with a migraine. While she wasn't sure what he could do if she didn't listen to him while they were both on Steven's ship, she wasn't willing to risk finding out. It would be highly embarrassing if any of the crew saw her being slung over John's shoulder and carried back to her quarters, or anything vaguely like that. It was just safer to go along with his requests.

If there was anything she learned that was constant about John, it was that he was always highly creative when he was properly motivated. She wasn't sure if it was her misfortune as Atlantis' auxiliary leader or her blessing as a woman that he was always properly motivated when it came to her well-being and safety. She set down her cup with an exaggerated flourish, "Done."

"Good." He leaned forward and closed her laptop before tucking it under his arm as he stood up. She surged to her feet, irritation in her voice, "What are you doing?"

She made a fruitless attempt to snatch her laptop back from him, but he easily dodged her lunge and gave her a Look that told her he knew she was only half-hearted protesting the forced end of her workday. They both knew her computer had an autosave function that kicked in very three minutes, backed up her data to a separate hard drive every fifteen minutes and merely hibernated when its top was closed. Plus, she hadn't even looked at the screen for the past twenty minutes, so he knew she wasn't actually working on anything vitally important to the expedition.

"I am escorting a tired diplomat back to her quarters," he said, graciously offering her an arm before he added with mock haste, "preferably without her attempting to strangle me."

She glared at him, but she knew he knew her heart wasn't in it. Both of them knew she would rather be in bed and sound asleep at this late hour, but her body just seemed to refuse to rest. With mock grumpiness, she accepted his arm and leaned against him as they walked out of the mess hall. She justified the unusual display of public affection with the fact that she was with her husband-to-be, and it was late, so there weren't that many crewmembers roaming the corridors. Arm and arm, they strolled leisurely down the sleek metal hallways, content in their silence. If it wasn't for the distinct lack of wide-open windows or for the shimmering sapphire view of hyperspace that was visible through the occasional transparent surface, she would have thought that they might have been back in Atlantis at the end of a long day, making their way back to their shared quarters after a quiet dinner.

However, for the duration of the journey, they were posted in separate, but adjoining quarters. So when they got to her door, she hesitated before she punched in the key code. She didn't quite want to ask him in, but she didn't want to be alone either. He took the decision out of her hands when he escorted her inside without a word. As the door slid shut behind them, he slipped away from her to put her laptop on her small desk.

He reached out and flipped on the desk lamp, "Go and get changed, all right?"

She moved toward her bags, "You'll stay?"

Pulling out her desk chair and sitting down, he shrugged casually, "At least until you're asleep."

"You don't have to," she told him, gathering her night clothes and moving toward the bathroom.

"I want to," he said quietly. She looked at him, lounging in the chair, and she could see the fatigue written in the lines on his face. Neither of them was as young as they used to be and they couldn't skimp on sleep as often as they did.

"All right," she said softly before she turned away from him and walked into the bathroom, the door sliding shut behind her. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her toothbrush and turned on the faucet. She wished he could occasionally relinquish control of the situation to his subordinates and learn that, at the end of the day, he couldn't carry the heavy responsibility of ensuring everyone's safety on Atlantis alone, that he didn't need to take on all the guilt for everyone they had lost over the years. As she began brushing her teeth, she nearly laughed at the irony of her thoughts. She was one to talk about giving up control to other people, even trusted friends, and she definitely had the habit of carrying the sole responsibility of running Atlantis on her shoulders.

'Hello pot,' she thought wryly to her reflection, 'your kettle is waiting for you outside.'

After a quick shower to wash away the day's stresses, she unlocked the door with a yawn and stepped out into her main living space. She stopped and took in the dimly-lit sight before her. While she had been in the bathroom, he had taken off his boots and stretched out on top of her comforter on her narrow bed, folding his arms behind his head as he dozed. When he heard her move back into the room, he opened his eyes and smiled lazily at her, "Hi."

It was then, seeing him so unguarded with her, that she was struck again by the realization that she wanted to fall asleep in his arms every night and wake up with him by her side every morning. She wanted him in her bed, not just as a lover, but as a partner, someone to comfort her and to love her for the rest of her life. She wanted to share with him all of life's joys and sorrows, and hold nothing back.

With a happy smile on her face, she walked over to the bed and sat down, tucking herself under the covers. He brushed his lips across her cheek before he sat up and rolled off of the bed cover.

"Wait…" she protested quietly, propping herself up on one elbow.

"Stay," he said firmly, going over to her desk and shutting off the light before returning to lay down beside her, staying on top of her covers. He ran gentle fingers through her hair and she nearly closed her ears and purred. He murmured quietly, "Go to sleep, Elizabeth. I'll stay here."

She made a noise of contentment as she slipped back under her covers and curled up next to him. A part of her mind relaxed and she realized that she hadn't been able to sleep because her body was too used to having him there to sleep without him. That could be a problem later on, but she put aside the concern to focus on the moment now. She was almost on the edge of sleep when she felt her bed shift a little and the warm body behind her disappeared. Turning sleepily around, she opened her eyes to see him sit up on the edge of her bed. As if sensing she was awake, he turned to look at her.

"Stay?" she asked quietly in the darkness, reaching out for him and settling a hand on his arm. He paused and then lay back down, this time slipping underneath the covers with her. Draping an arm across her waist, he pulled her close and she felt both of them relax. She snuggled closer to him while he shifted until they were both in a position where neither one of them would fall off of the narrow surface in the middle of the night.

"Good night," he whispered, brushing his lips over hers. She kissed him lazily before she told him, "Good night."

They tangled themselves together, skin on skin, finding comfort in the other's presence. Their lives had become as interwoven in their sleep as it was in their waking hours, and it had become as mindless and cherished as breathing for both of them to spend the night together.

Content with their place in the universe, they fell asleep in each other's arms.