This one's a bit... interesting. But it was pretty fun to write, I must admit, even though a lot of it was setting up for later issues. There are some good and bad repercussions of the change here.

I got more reviews for last chapter, and as a reward, here's chapter 3. (No one said I was above bribery!) Keep it up!

Compromising Positions: Chapter 3
The Psychology of Flowers

Captain Montega, Lt. Miller, Lt. Sean, and Lt. Beyermaltsze stood before her, looking at her with some concern. They were within the temple at M51-237, but aside from she and they, no one else was present. They were alone.

"Are you alive?" Elizabeth heard herself ask dully, fixing them in her gaze.

Matthew Sean nodded vigorously, and Evan Montega smiled. "Yes ma'am," he offered.

"Am I?" Her voice was dead, despite the fact that at their words, joy suffused through her. It was incredibly frustrating that her dream self did not seem inclined to express it.

Appearing slightly uncomfortable, Jacob Miller reminded her, "Could you be standing here, talking to us, if you weren't?"

"No, I suppose not." To her triumph, Elizabeth felt her dream-self release a slow smile; but she soon realized that the smile was far too cold to mean anything good.

As if hearing her suspicions, dream-Elizabeth smiled even wider, and to Elizabeth's alarm, she raised her hand towards the men, who were backing away from her with expressions of revulsion carved onto their faces. "I know what I want," she spat. "And I intend to take it."

Then, the hand that was stretched out before her moved grotesquely, and Elizabeth's carefully manicured nails twisted themselves into claws while a slit opened up in her palm. Montega, Miller, Sean, and Beyermaltsze screamed together and convulsed, shriveling away into empty husks as dream-Elizabeth hissed with pleasure. Elizabeth struggled and screamed, trying to take back control and save the suffering men, but with each passing moment, dream-Elizabeth and her Wraith hand grew stronger.

"Dr. Weir, why are you doing this to us?" Beyermaltsze screamed through his agony, tears streaming down his ravaged face. "We trusted you, Dr. Weir! Stop, please!"

Dream-Elizabeth laughed. The four men finally died. And Elizabeth screamed her outrage.

"No! No! Someone help them! Anyone, please!"

With a spectacular crash, Elizabeth tumbled out of her cot and onto the floor. She lay there for a few heartbeats, dazed and disoriented, before a sob clawed its way out of her throat, followed quickly by another.

It wasn't real. It wasn't. But if that were really true, why did she feel so hideously guilty?

She was alive. She was alive and healthy and frankly feeling physically sound enough to swim laps around Atlantis just because she could. And where were they? Dead. Blasted into pieces so small that she couldn't even send anything home to their families. They had trusted her, and she had failed.

Elizabeth didn't even try to get up off the cold infirmary floor. Hugging her knees tightly to her chest, the woman simply huddled where she had fallen and let the tears stream shamelessly down her face, not even bothering to untangle herself from her sheet.

"'Lizabeth? Are you all right?"

It was John. Not one single person in Atlantis, other than him, had the balls to call her that. She hadn't seen him since she had walked out on him in the middle of breakfast.

Briefly, she debated answering him, but decided that she just didn't have the energy, much less the desire to. At the moment, she hated herself for what she had become, but couldn't bring herself to blame John. It was her that was the monster here, not him. Never him. Maybe, if she didn't answer, he would leave her alone.

She should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Oh my god… 'Lizabeth…" John breathed from somewhere above her. In an instant, he was kneeling in front of her and pulling her chin to face him with gentle hands.

She wouldn't…. couldn't look at him. Instead, she chose to look at the floor. It was so much easier that way…

"'Lizabeth… Look at me. Please." His voice was incredibly gentle. Gentler that she'd ever heard, at least.

But she couldn't. Chin and lips trembling, Elizabeth shook her head, still staring at the floor.

"'Lizabeth…" He was scolding her now, taking her face between both of his hands and brushing away a few tears with his thumbs. After a long moment and a silent battle of wills, Elizabeth reluctantly raised her puffy eyes to meet his cool hazel ones. She didn't see hatred there, or more importantly, pity. He just looked at her calmly, as if reading her feelings through her eyes, which impressed Elizabeth really. She had underestimated his perception, deceived by his distinct lack of social skills.

He was better than he admitted.

Still acting as if he were doing nothing more unusual than offering her a cup of coffee, John settled silently at her side and put an arm around her, pulling her into a comfortable hug. Passed caring, Elizabeth let him.

"You do know that Beckett's going to send us to Kate in the morning, right?" he sighed into her hair.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, considering what might happen if they were caught in this rather… compromising… situation, before finally relaxing into his grip, leaning her head into his shoulder, and closing her eyes. "I know," she responded miserably.

"Can you tell me what you first thought when Teyla first handed you that mirror, Elizabeth?" Kate Heightmeyer asked, leaning forewords, an expression of deep interest painted over her cherubic features.

Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her padded seat, hating being here. But like John had predicted the night before, Carson had insisted. It wasn't that she had a problem Dr. Heightmeyer. Quite the opposite in fact: she adored the woman. But Dr. Weir herself was a proud woman, and despite the fact that the rational part of her recognized that she desperately needed help in dealing with what had happened to her, the rest of her objected strongly to the indignity of being forced to come here and discuss her feelings. She was Dr. Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition. Neat, well put-together, no loose ends.

It was hard to admit, but she definitely had a loose end now, after M51-237. Probably more than one.

"Disbelief, first and foremost," Elizabeth said without pause, resigning herself to her fate. "Then… fear. Anger. Confusion. It's hard to die and then wake up almost fifteen years younger than you thought you were," she admitted, interlocking her fingers and gazing fixedly at them.

Kate nodded, completely at ease. "And afterwards, after you had time to process what had happened more fully?" she prompted.

Smiling sardonically, Elizabeth acquiesced and continued. "I was guilty, mostly. I mean, I literally watched four men get blown to pieces and suddenly I've been given a facelift on steroids, without a catch?" She laughed bitterly. "It's not fair. Especially to them. And I don't even know what happened! For all I know, they died to give me this and I…" The words seemed to stick in her throat. "I can't live with that, Kate. I can't. I don't even know what to feel anymore."

"Elizabeth… I know that I can't ever tell you exactly what happened to you, because I don't think I'll ever understand myself," Kate began earnestly, looking nearly as concerned as Elizabeth felt. "But I can tell you this. Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. You didn't ask for this," she insisted, seeing Elizabeth's skeptical expression. (How had she known that the shrink would say that to her? Oh yeah, they told everyone that.) She paused a moment, and then her demeanor softened. "It was out of your control. You were scared. Terrified, really. And now, you can't understand," came her observation. "You're used to command. To being in control. Or, at the very least, being something other than helpless. You're a strong woman Dr. Weir, but nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome."

Blinking a little at the amended approach, Elizabeth shot Kate a shy smile, admitting to herself that she did indeed feel a little better in spite of herself. But instinctively, she knew that her problems were far from over, and the expression quickly melted off her face to be replaced by one of brooding.

"Thoughts?" Dr. Heightmeyer queried, arching a blonde eyebrow.

"I just… worry what people will think of me," Elizabeth responded immediately. "The IOA especially. I'm under no delusions that they'd be more than happy to fire me, but it still concerns me that with this on top of everything else… they could easily make a case that I've been compromised, and not even my supporters at the SGC could object." She massaged her temples wearily.

"Knowing you, you'll be fine," Kate assured her. "You wouldn't give up on us that easily."

A thoughtful expression suddenly crossed the blonde doctor's face. Leaning forwards again, she observed solemnly, "But you've been feeling trapped and anxious for a while now, haven't you?"

Elizabeth just shifted uncomfortably.

"You know, Elizabeth, you rarely come to see me." Kate pointed out, smiling cordially and waving away her patient's apologetic expression. "But I can't help but wonder, do you have anyone that you can confide in? You are, of course, welcome to come and see me anytime, but I am curious as to how you cope with all the stresses of your life."

Elizabeth bristled a bit, but ended up simply sighing. "No, not really. I do have friends here that I greatly value, but even for them…" she trailed off before visually gathering her thoughts and proceeding. "I can't share much of a personal nature with anyone here on Atlantis, for obvious reasons. If I have a problem, I take care of it myself. That's the way it has to be. If I had to choose who my best friend is though," Elizabeth sighed, trying to sate the doctor's curiosity, "I suppose I'd have to say John, in a way. Most people… they just see me as Dr. Weir. I have a few friends who know me on the side as Elizabeth, and they're very important to me. But John… John can see me as both, one or the other, anything I need, really. And he doesn't expect me to be anything: only to do my job and do it well."

"Well that's good!" Kate responded happily.

Shaking her head, Elizabeth just slumped in her chair and ran a hand through her hair. "But there are some things… a lot of things, that I still can't share with anyone. Even John," she corrected softly. Then, under her breath she added bitterly, "Especially John."

The sharp click of a pen sounded from Kate's chair, and Elizabeth looked up to see her making a note on a clipboard, frowning slightly. She couldn't tell if the frown was directed at what she was writing, or merely a result of concentration. Needless to say, she hoped it was the latter.

"Do you wish you could?" she asked, looking up from her clipboard and locking eyes with Elizabeth. "Form relationships with the people in Atlantis that go beyond the professional, I mean?"

"Technically, I already have," Elizabeth pointed out. "But I see what you mean. I love being in Atlantis more than anything else, and if I had to choose between being here and having closer friends, I'd choose Atlantis in a heartbeat. I choose it every day I stay here. But frankly, some days, I just wish I didn't have to choose."

Dr. Heightmeyer opened her mouth to respond, but suddenly feeling very sure of herself, Elizabeth cut her off before she even began. "Dr. Heightmeyer, I know very well that the services you provide to the crew of Atlantis are more valuable than anyone else realizes," she said sternly. "You make life here bearable for all of us, and can always find a way to help. However, in the cases of all of the senior staff, I think you'll just have to accept that there's nothing you can do. Even you can't help us not be lonely."

A mischievous grin, the likes Elizabeth had never witnessed on this particular person before, split Dr. Heightmeyer's soft features. "Actually, Elizabeth, I think I can," she said smugly. "But I'll need a favor from you. How soon can you arrange for a wormhole back to Earth?"

Leafing through the folder in her hands distractedly, Elizabeth stifled a yawn as she walked purposefully down the hallway in search of John, ignoring the occasional stare from passerby. He was supposed to be taking inventory of the small arms lockers today, and so this is where she was looking for him. After she had sent Kate Heightmeyer back to the SGC at the doctor's request nearly two days ago, Elizabeth had taken a moment to give General Landry an unofficial heads-up as to her and John's position. The man had, of course, immediately requested that an official report of the entire incident be filed and a copy sent back to the SGC at Elizabeth's earliest convenience. Arriving on the Daedalus not four hours ago, a very shocked Col. Caldwell had immediately demanded the same thing. (The priceless expression on the man's face after clapping eyes on John and herself for the first time had considerably brightened Elizabeth's day.) It was an easy enough request; and now all that was missing was Col. Sheppard's mission report.

Nearing Small Arms Locker 12, Elizabeth could clearly hear John's voice from within. She quickened her pace, but slowed a little ways away as she registered his words.

"Flowers? For me? You shouldn't have!" His tone was flippant, and Elizabeth felt the sudden urge to grin, stopping just outside the door of the locker so the room's occupants couldn't see her. It wasn't eavesdropping. It was… observation.

"Hardly," another male voice answered back in a tone that was slightly condescending. "I beamed down from the Daedalus two hours ago and happened to see you talking with a very lovely young lady in one of the labs. These are for her. I can't seem to find her though, so I wondered if you could tell me where she might be."

"I work with quite a few women here in Atlantis," John pointed out, sounding bored. "Got a name for me?"

"No, but I can describe her. She wasn't military. Rather tall, curly brown hair, green eyes?"

Elizabeth groaned inwardly. He could only possibly be talking about her.

"Wait, are you telling me you brought flowers down from the botany lab on the Daedalus to give to a woman you haven't even had a conversation with?" John definitely sounded amused now, probably because he knew whom the man was talking about as well.

As for his unknown companion, he sounded suitably flustered. "Well… yes. But I really don't need a lecture from you right now. Can you, or can you not, tell me where I can find her?"

John was silent for several long moments, and Elizabeth felt like she had to physically tamp down her curiosity, wanting to wait and hear what he would say. Finally, he spoke, and his voice was dark and deadly serious. "Yes, I know exactly who you're talking about, although it's obvious you don't. However, she's a big girl and can take care of herself, so I won't stop you. I just have a bit of advice for you before you go chasing after her though, so I recommend you listen up. One: take those orange flowers out of the arrangement because she detests that color. Two: try not to humiliate her in a public place. And three:" John continued over the man's offended protests, letting more force leak into his tone, "Treat her with respect. Because if I find out you didn't, I will personally dial the 'gate to a Wraith-occupied planet and shove you through with nothing but a letter-opener. Am I clear?"

Elizabeth decided that this was the moment in which she should probably intervene. Walking in briskly as if she hadn't just been standing out in the hall, she said innocently, "John! There you are. I've been looking for you." Glancing from her military commander and the obviously irritated crewman holding an… interesting… arrangement of flowers and back, she asked, "Is everything all right?"

John really didn't have time to answer before the man in the Daedalus uniform perked up at the sight of her and threw himself into the conversation. "Ah, I knew you'd be around here somewhere," he said, sounding pleased. He then presented his flowers with a flourish and shot her a winning smile. "My name is Dr. Marcus Zimmerman of the Daedalus."

"He's new," John pointed out from somewhere behind him.

Biting back her own amusement for the sake of decorum, Elizabeth simply answered, "I can see that," before turning her attention back to Dr. Zimmerman. In all fairness, he wasn't an unattractive man. He was of average height and build with a pleasant face and a meticulously groomed head of dark hair. In Elizabeth's estimation, he was in his late twenties or early thirties.

Graciously, Elizabeth accepted the bouquet of rather sickly-looking flowers of pink, blue, and lurid orange and smiled at the man, tucking the folder under one arm. "Thank you, Dr. Zimmerman. That's very kind of you. My name's Elizabeth," she told him, certain that if the poor man really knew whom he was talking to, he would have soiled himself by now. Behind him, John's eyes were dancing with amusement and he was grinning like an idiot before Elizabeth shot him a look that said 'Be nice!'.

"The pleasure's mine, I assure you Elizabeth," Zimmerman replied warmly, completely ignoring John and her silent communication to him. Appearing politely interested, he sidled a little closer and asked conversationally, "So, have you been in Atlantis for very long?"

"From the original expedition," she responded, feeling sorry for Zimmerman despite (or perhaps because of) his feeble attempts at flirting with her.

Eyebrows raised, Zimmerman seemed suitably impressed. "That's no mean feat," he complimented her. "This is my first mission on the Daedalus, myself. Tell me Elizabeth, what do you do here? Do you work in the labs?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't," Elizabeth continued smoothly, aware that John had retreated into the back of the locker and seated himself on a crate, shoulders shaking with silent laughter but refusing to let his reaction phase her. "I lead the expedition."

"You… do?" Eyes wide, Zimmerman's voice faltered as he processed what she had just said.

"Oh yes," Elizabeth offered, her face still betraying nothing but polite interest. "I suppose that Col. Sheppard over here wouldn't have told you if you didn't ask, but surely you've heard my name, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, before, in one of your briefings," she deadpanned.

"I… of course I have, Dr. Weir," Zimmerman responded, his flirtatious manner replaced instantly by one of extreme discomfort and mild confusion as he realized how he had just treated the renowned leader of the Atlantis expedition. He had obviously (and correctly) assumed her to be older. "I'm… very glad you liked the flowers but… I'm afraid that I'm late for a meeting with a colleague. Another time, perhaps?"

"Of course," Elizabeth smiled patiently at him, dipping her head in farewell as the man made a hasty escape, obviously afraid that she was going to have him thrown in Atlantis' brig. "Give my regards to Col. Caldwell!" she called after him.

The locker was silent for a moment as Elizabeth placed the sickly bunch of flowers on a nearby shelf with an expression of mild disgust. Removing those heinous orange buds from the arrangement had been an excellent suggestion, but the package wouldn't have been improved much anyways.

"Oh my god!" John hooted from his perch on the crate, finally bursting into a fit of giggles. "Did you see that poor bastard's face when he realized who he'd been insulting and who he'd just hit on?"

"Yes, John. I was there," Elizabeth sighed, brushing her hands off on the pants of her uniform. She wasn't really as annoyed at him as she pretended. John's juvenile attitude was generally refreshing, but she didn't want to encourage him more than his new youthful energy already had. Although, if Elizabeth was being entirely honest with herself, she had begun to find it increasingly difficult to sit still in recent days as well.

Ignoring her attitude, John sprang to his feet and bounced up to her, grinning as he put her hands on her hips and gave him a look. Unsurprisingly, he ignored that too and instead clasped his hands under his chin, tilted his head to one side, and fluttered his eyelashes at her. The overall impression was one of a flirtatious schoolgirl.

"Oh Dr. Weir!" he squeaked out, obviously mocking the rather nasally tone of Dr. Zimmerman. "I've been cooped up in a metal box for weeks, and I think you're hot. Do you think this exotic fungus will help me get laid?"

A young lab tech that had been passing by in the hallway at that particular moment stumbled, turning a vibrent shade of scarlet, and scurried away, doing his best not to look at them.

"John!" Elizabeth scolded, mortified.

He smirked, straightening up and resuming his normal posture. "What? You were thinking it too!"

Elizabeth just rolled her eyes, letting it slide. "Your mission report from M51-237?" she asked, sticking out her hand.

"I gave it to Anna's team so they could compare it to the temple writings. If you'd like, we can go get it together and hear what they've come up with so far."

"I'd like that," Elizabeth admitted with the tiniest of smiles. She followed him out the door.

And that's that.

In response to a question that REALLY amused me, yes, Elizabeth is hot. I mean, she's attractive even as someone in her 30s, but now it isn't as if she's more or less hot, just different. I'm sure she's extremely attractive. As for being more or less awkward, I know she FEELS more awkward, but not only does she probably associate that particular appearance with a more awkward stage in her life, she's just been thrown into a differently aged body. I think that'd make me feel a little uncomfortable too.