*slinks into the room slowly*

I am SO SORRY for the delay. Really, I am! Life happened. Therefore, extra-long chapter. It's not a particularly lighthearted chapter, but a chapter is a chapter is a chapter, right? Even if it doesn't involve red panties. (Again, sorry for being such a lousy updater!)

Thanks for all those great reviews. Enjoy!

Compromising Positions: Chapter 7
Orange Juice

Elizabeth rarely had the chance to see John so uncomfortable as when they were eating dinner with the President, so the night was an occasion. Certainly she herself wasn't completely at ease, but unlike John, she was trained in diplomacy, and was somewhat in her element. Compared to the sticky diplomatic situations she'd been in before, the dinner was an absolute cakewalk, and she visibly acted as such. John, however, seemed stiff and nervous, and honestly didn't say much.

(In retrospect, that was probably a good thing.)

"Tell me Dr. Weir. Is it hard to live so far from home?" Hayes asked at one point over the salmon that was being served, sipping at his wine. (He was a diplomat by nature as well, it seemed, and had hardly batted an eye at her altered appearance. He had never met John in person before, and therefore didn't react much to him either.)

"Not at all, Mr. President," Elizabeth responded seriously. "Atlantis is my home."

"It's even a bit strange, coming back to Earth," John supplied.

Hayes appeared intrigued. "There's nothing you miss?"

"My mother, and possibly strip malls," Elizabeth admitted, wrinkling her nose. "John misses 9-hole golf though," she threw in, tipping her head at the man in question.

"We only have a driving range," John explained. Hayes appeared properly horrified.

All in all, the evening went far more smoothly than Elizabeth could have hoped for. She made a point of subtly emphasizing the positive aspects of Atlantis and all they had achieved there, as well as the fact that the Atlantis expedition was a family. She and Hayes had always gotten along well, but even so, it was a relief to her that he responded so well to them, and even to John, with whom he seemed to share an appreciation for the 'fine sport' of golf, despite the Lt. Colonel's obvious discomfort with the entire situation. After a few hours of conversing, mostly on Elizabeth and Hayes' parts, (and with only a really very excellent specimen of crème brule providing interruption) they had managed to conclude the dinner and part ways without any major catastrophe occurring, which was a minor miracle in and of itself.

In fact, by the time the driver had dropped John off at his hotel, which was only about a block and a half away from Elizabeth's apartment building, Elizabeth felt that there was at least a 50/50 chance now that one or the other of them might actually get to keep their job. It wasn't a victory, but it was close enough. She would take what she could get, because in between the serious ass-kickings she received on all sides from the Wraith, Replicators, and God-knows-what-else, Elizabeth wouldn't turn up her nose on actual progress, ever. Especially following the unfortunate incident with John's artificially vermillion hair.

And that, she mused as she crawled into her pajamas, was a life lesson she could take to the bank.

Elizabeth shivered slightly beneath her white button-down coat as she treaded lightly down the sidewalk, tugging her little red knit hat down around her ears. It had snowed a little bit the night before, which she had observed in between fitful bouts of sleep, and now everything in sight was lightly dusted with an all-consuming pallor that was quickly turning into slush under the glare of the morning sun. It soaked into the hem of her jeans, causing them to cling to her ankles most unpleasantly, and the slick sidewalk made her glad for the firm rubber treads of her boots. She wasn't used to cold, having experienced only the temperance of Atlantis' artificial climate for… a while. It was refreshing, in a masochistic sort of way, seeing as she was completely miserable, but Elizabeth simply gritted her teeth and sped up a little until the front of the hotel John (and, incidentally, her mother) was staying at peeked out from the next corner.

True to her word, Elizabeth darted, shivering slightly, into the heat of the outdated lobby at exactly 7:00 a.m. in a rush of cold air. Much to her surprise, John was on time as well, standing in the far end of the lobby. Even more surprising, he appeared to be deep in conversation with none other than Elizabeth's mother.

So help her God, if that man said one word about that dove tattoo to her mother, she would feed him to the Wraith herself, already nicely trussed-up and basted in something scalding hot and preferably abrasive.

"Mom!" she called out cheerfully, putting a little hop into her step and waving the catch the woman's attention. Logic told her that maybe if she interrupted their conversation sooner rather than later, she could prevent any embarrassing stories being told by either party; but she couldn't really lie to herself. They'd get told anyways.

Hearing her voice, her mother whipped around immediately, and her twinkling eyes widened at the sight of her. "Elizabeth, is that really you?" she gasped, her tone caught halfway between laughter and tears.

"I'm real if you are," Elizabeth promised with a wry, surreptitious grin at John, who had immediately stood off to the side. She then pulled the woman up into a tight embrace, closing her eyes with the familiarity and comfort of the sensation. She'd really, really missed her mother. Sure, she was a grown woman with incredible responsibilities, but that didn't make missing her any easier. Not to mention that the last time she'd seen her, she hadn't actually seen her. It was nice to know that this was (probably) real.

"Sweet pea, just look at you! When you said 'lab accident', I didn't imagine this at all!" Elizabeth's mother exclaimed, pulling back slightly and reaching up to pull of Elizabeth's stocking cap, letting her dark hair fly loose and regarding her for a moment with a growing smile. "You look happy. I had missed seeing you this happy," she told her fondly.

Elizabeth smiled and held the woman's soft hand tenderly to her cheek. "See? What did I tell you? Besides, I'll always be happy to see you, Mom," she insisted. "I missed you. And I see you've even met Colonel Sheppard," she added lightly, taking her hat back and pulling it firmly back in place.

The older woman turned with surprise and appraised John with seemingly new eyes. "I hadn't caught his name. So… this is the John you've told me so much about? I thought he was older," she observed with eyebrows raised skeptically. It was an expression identical to one that Elizabeth had once worn often, before she realized the futility of skepticism.

John just flashed her the crooked flyboy grin that had disarmed many a specimen of female in his time as a response. "Lt. Colonel John Sheppard at your service, ma'am." The hand he stuck out for her mother to shake was strong and steady. "Thirty-seven years old. I moisturize."

It was hard for Elizabeth to swallow the laughter that bubbled into her throat at that last comment, and she emitted a strange strangled sound instead. "He only wishes he aged that gracefully, mother," she protested, rolling her eyes. "He was in the same lab accident as I was. Although, to be fair, his hair always has and, I think, always will, defy gravity."

Her mother just nodded slowly, eyes slightly wider than they had been before, while John just shot Elizabeth a look. "It's… good to finally meet you, Colonel Sheppard. You may call me Katherine," she said politely, finally taking his offered hand and shaking it.

"Yes ma'am. And you may call me John," he returned, smiling again. "It's wonderful to finally meet the woman who is responsible for shaping the great and powerful Elizabeth Weir."

At last, Katherine let her amusement show, and her pool-deep eyes crinkled along the smile-lines as her expression softened. "Great and powerful? Elizabeth, what on Earth have you been doing to get a military man to say that?" she teased.

"Incredible things, Mrs. Weir. Incredible things," John answered, before Elizabeth could say anything, suddenly quite solemn. Her mother nodded in response, as if she had expected nothing less, and Elizabeth could see that the two had already reached an understanding, just as she had predicted they might. It was relieving, if a bit unsettling and awkward on her part.

"I believe you promised me breakfast, dear?" Her mother prompted then, her warm features once again filling Elizabeth's chest cavity with sudden warmth.

"You bet!" she responded with alacrity. She wasn't sure if John could have possibly looked happier at any other set of words.

After living so long off of the cooking of the mess hall, Elizabeth had almost forgotten just how good Earth food could be when she had gone to dinner with the President. She had been pleasantly surprised then, but there was a lot to be said for comfort food as well, especially in the morning. For the first time in who knows how long, she didn't have an aversion to eating so strong that John had to pester her to do so, and she was actually quite eager for her food to arrive. What could she say? Breakfast was the time for crepes, and she wasn't the one to deny the will of the breakfast gods. She ate with unwonted gusto.

The conversation was fabulous as well, of course. Elizabeth had a lot of catching up to do with her mother, and John was getting along with the both of them incredibly well. Six months ago, if someone had told her that she would be sitting down with her mother and John Sheppard at her favorite breakfast café in Washington, discussing the time that she had, as a toddler, grown hysterical because she accidentally crushed a butterfly, all the while the pair of them looking as if she were twenty… well, she probably would have fed them to Steve, depending on her mood. (Well, probably not. Ethical issues and all. But then again, she would have been more than a little bemused.) It was astonishing to her how one mission could have changed so much, so quickly. As heinously guilty as it made her to admit it, decrying as she did the gruesome facts of her men's deaths, she was almost… happy, with the way things had turned out otherwise. Certainly, she was in danger of losing her post in Atlantis and had had her body altered against her will but… she was with her mother again. And, oddly enough, she was with John, who was unquestionably her best friend. He had been ever since they had been thrown in this boat together, although probably for much longer, if Elizabeth was being entirely honest with herself.

"Hey 'Lizabeth, I'm going to make a run to the Starbucks next door. I gotta say I missed it. Want me to bring you something?" John asked suddenly, startling Elizabeth out of her musings.

"Oh John, would you?" Elizabeth gasped, brightening considerably.

"Anything to pander to that caffeine addiction of yours," laughed John. "Would you like anything, Katherine?" he asked politely, turning towards Elizabeth's mother, who was dabbing at her prim mouth with her napkin.

"No thank you dear," the woman replied sweetly, turning her sparkling eyes to her daughter as he left, weaving through the homey little tables, disappearing from view as Elizabeth fondly watched him go.

For a short while, a relative silence enveloped the table and Elizabeth continued to happily tuck in to her crepes, which she hadn't been able to consume at the incredible rate that John had, but she had attacked respectably nonetheless. She had just started sipping at her little glass of orange juice when her mother decided to ask the question out of the blue. "So, can I be expecting any grandchildren anytime soon?"

Elizabeth spewed orange juice across the table.

"Wha-what? I… what?" she spluttered fecklessly, cringing at the harsh acidity of the juice as she did her utmost to mop up the mess.

"Well, unlike you, I'm not getting any younger," her mother pointed out dryly, smirking a little at her reaction and reaching for a few napkins to help her.

"Mom! I don't have… I'm not even… Mom!" Elizabeth choked out in protest, still distraught and flustered by a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and shame. "Why would you even… Do I look pregnant?"

Now that she thought about it, maybe eating all those crepes hadn't been such a good idea.

"No, goodness no! I just wanted to know if it was in your plans, sweet pea," her mother reassured her quickly, appearing faintly horrified (although somewhat amused) at the way her words had been interpreted. "Relax. Let me dream."

Reluctantly, Elizabeth made a valiant attempt to do so. "I… hadn't really… thought about it…" she stammered delicately, supremely uncomfortable, cheeks burning. "I… I don't even have a boyfriend, Mom."

Elizabeth's mother seemed a little confused for a moment, before she blinked the expression away to be replaced by one of dawning understanding. "Let's be honest sweet pea, that won't last long," she remarked with a little smile.

Frowning slightly, Elizabeth was about to ask what she meant when John strode back into the room and carefully placed a paper cup at her side. "Extra black with creamer but no sugar," he informed her. "I didn't know if you wanted something besides your usual."

"It's perfect John, thank you," she said gratefully, burying her head in it before he could notice her stiffness or burning cheeks.

If he did, he didn't say anything. After they had finished their breakfast, John had informed her that he needed to run some errands that day before they were to leave the next morning, but it was possible that he would be free again in the evening once he was done, if she wasn't sick of him by now. Elizabeth's mother had jumped right in at that point, saying that of course Elizabeth wasn't sick of him, and that she and Elizabeth would be back at Elizabeth's apartment after dinner, so he should most certainly come right on over. Elizabeth, of course, didn't mind in the least, just as her mother had said she didn't, but now knowing her mother's opinion about grandchildren, she didn't feel like doing much at all around the male species at the moment, besides crawling into a hole. Still, she found herself smiling happily at him and telling him to come over whenever he liked and to make sure to remember to pick up some popcorn for Teyla. He had smiled at her and left, as she and her mother did the same. Mother and daughter ended up spending the day shopping for clothes and makeup and other necessities that were hard to come by in Atlantis.

Introspectively, she honestly didn't know what had gotten into her. Elizabeth had never been a glutton for punishment before she had met John. Of course, she had never met anyone quite like him. A strange mix between a hard military man, a flyboy, a twelve-year old, and a man full of wisdom and pain beyond his years. Elizabeth supposed that she respected him, mostly. Most especially for all of the pain he carried with him, and tried to hide with his bravado. The sarcasm, the incessant snarky outlook on life, the act of what Rodney called the 'Captain Kirk': it was all designed to shield him from more pain, and bury what pain he already bore deep within him. If nothing else, it was something Elizabeth understood. She didn't pity him—he didn't want or need her pity—but respected the fact that they were the same in many ways: keeping all of their friendships just far enough away from romance to keep their hearts safe after being hurt, but taking those same few friendships and pouring all of the passion in the world into them. For what were they without the ability to change the lives of others for the better?

Both he and Elizabeth lived their lives for this purpose. She supposed it was one of the many reasons that they were such good friends, and had become so almost without realizing it.

"Elizabeth, dear, would you prefer the blue, red, or green in this pattern?"

Elizabeth smiled at her mother's voice, still lost in thought. "Red."

A timid knock sent a startled Elizabeth nearly flying off the seat of the couch as it woke her from the near half-sleep that she had been lulled into, watching Singin' in the Rain with her mother. It was her favorite childhood movie; one that the two of them always watched together, but Elizabeth could never truly stay awake for if she was feeling sleepy. Seeing as how it was past eight and Elizabeth hadn't had any coffee for hours after exhausting herself with the day's activities, she was indeed feeling incredibly tired. However, the announcement of a visitor, as gentle as it was, proved enough to startle her into alertness.

"I thought John said when he called earlier that he couldn't come. Something about needing to visit a friend in the hospital?" Her mother commented from the armchair she had settled herself in.

"Yes, I thought he did too," Elizabeth agreed with a yawn, getting to her feet and straightening her pajama pants before padding to the door. A quick glance through the peephole showed her that it was indeed John who was standing outside of her apartment. "But it's him all right."

"Hey Elizabeth, I'm sorry to bother you so late," John said quickly, once Elizabeth had opened the door for him. He looked a little pale, in her opinion, and the hand that he raised to run through his hair like he always did when he was nervous was more shaky and halting than was usual. "Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?" The normal playful tone of the voice he used with her was gone.

Elizabeth nodded seriously, latching onto his mood and recognizing the tone of his voice as a cue that he needed to speak about something that was probably classified. "Of course, John. In here." She beckoned him inside and closed the door behind him. Padding over to her mother, she leaned down and placed a kiss to her curly temple. "We need to talk where you can't hear us, Mother. But we'll only be a moment, I promise," she told her.

Receiving Katherine's nod of understanding, Elizabeth turned up the volume of the musical and slipped into her bedroom, which was the only other room in her apartment with a door that wasn't the bathroom, John trailing behind. Neither of them spoke until she pressed the door closed behind them.

"Do you know James McKendricks? From genetics?"

"Yes. He's our foremost expert on studying the evolution of ascension. A nice man as well, though I haven't personally spent much time with him. Why?" Elizabeth asked.

"Did you know he has a wife, here on Earth?"

"No, but it's not unusual among the expedition," Elizabeth defended, frowning.

John's frown deepened. "Her name is Lorena Jewel McKendricks. Maiden name Cassidy. She and I..." He hesitated. "Well, we dated in college. It didn't work out, but we're still close friends. James too," he explained. "Though I've never found much time for him in Atlantis. What I didn't know though, I suppose that was because neither of them told me, was that she's pregnant with a baby McKendricks."

A slow smile spread across Elizabeth's face. "Why John, that's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "I'll be sure to authorize weekly visits for James to Earth as soon as the midway station is operational!"

Looking at her with an unfathomable mixture of happy and sad, John shook his head. "Oh 'Lizabeth. You don't understand. I said that she and I are friends, right?"

"Ri-ight," she replied, making the word two syllables in emphasis of her confusion.

"Lorena was the friend I was visiting in the hospital this afternoon, 'Lizabeth," John said, even more softly. "Her car was hit head-on by another truck. The guy just passed out at the wheel and drifted right across the median."

"Oh my god…" Elizabeth breathed, her vibrant green eyes widening and stinging. "Is… is she all right?"

"No. No, she's not all right. She died two hours after I got there."

Stone slowly settled over Elizabeth's features. There it was again. She was going to have to be the one to tell somebody that someone they loved was dead. What was worse, this wasn't sending a letter or video to the family of someone who died bravely in her service, sacrificing themselves for the greater good. This was telling one of her people that a member of their family was killed not fighting for a good cause, but as an innocent victim. It wasn't fair to anyone in her expedition, who all sacrificed so much daily, that this should happen. It just wasn't, because they, of all people, didn't deserve it. She paced frustratedly.

John's voice broke the quiet that had settled over the pair of them as he sidled a little closer. "But… her child survived. A little girl. And Lorena… Lorena was conscious just long enough to speak with me. She said that I was the girl's godfather, and that she and James had already chosen a name for her, months ago. Elizabeth Maya McKendricks. Apparently, James had told her that his job was very dangerous, but that he owed his life, and the others all owed their lives as well, to one Dr. Elizabeth Weir. They decided that they wanted their girl to be Elizabeth as well."

A hand was pressed tightly to Elizabeth's mouth at this point, and moisture was beginning to pool at the corners of her eyes. Dr. James McKendricks was, to be honest, just another member of her expedition. She hadn't had any more or any less contact with him than she had with any number of those on Atlantis and yet… here she was, being told by John that this man had named his little girl after her. Had the tragedy of Lorena McKendricks' death not occurred, would she even have ever known about little Elizabeth's name? How much she meant as a leader to a man she was barely on a first name basis with? It was seriously touching, and Elizabeth couldn't decide whether she felt like smiling or crying.

Apparently, her traitorous body felt more like crying.

Hot tracks of moisture spilled from her eyes against her will, caught up in the raw sadness of the situation. Her vision was therefore somewhat blurred, but Elizabeth's eyes didn't waver from John's face, and even she could see that he was struggling with losing his friend. More tentatively than she thought the situation called for, Elizabeth stepped forwards, suddenly filled with an inexplicable fear that John would push her away. He rarely let anyone see him struggle with emotion, and Elizabeth was afraid that she didn't mean enough to him to let her see him do so, boss or no.

As it turned out, this fear wasn't completely unfounded. As Elizabeth laid a cool hand on John's cheek, he let out an almost completely inaudible hiss and tried to face away from her. But Elizabeth would have none of it. "John… look at me John," she instructed in a gentle voice, slightly muted with the choking of the tears, running the hand from his face down to his stiff shoulder. A sort of calm was filling her. "I understand John. You don't have to hide."

John was motionless for the span of several heartbeats, but when he moved, he moved so quick that he elicited a squeak of surprise out of her. The snap from refusal to even make eye contact and scooping her up in a bear hug so tight she was lifted off her feet and she could barely move was startling, to say the least, but Elizabeth didn't struggle against it. John didn't move either. He just… held her. One arm trapped awkwardly between her stomach and John's chest, Elizabeth was fairly uncomfortable, but didn't dare try to break away. If this was what John needed, she was more than happy to provide it, and allowed herself to relax somewhat into his embrace. She even found it to be somewhat enjoyable.

After what seemed a short eternity, John released her, and Elizabeth found her feet again. "I… Sorry, Dr. Weir," John muttered sheepishly.

"Don't be, Colonel Sheppard," Elizabeth replied smoothly. "I needed that anyways." In a gentler voice, she asked, "Will you be all right?"

John nodded quickly. "I just… Can I have a minute?"

"Sure, John," Elizabeth replied without hesitation, filled with a strange sense of déjà vu that she simply resigned herself to. "Come out when you're ready."

With that, the woman crept back into the living room, where her mother was still faithfully focused on the actors that were singing and tap-dancing across Elizabeth's flatscreen and settled down onto the couch without a word. Her mother shot her a concerned glance, but Elizabeth returned with a sad smile and a shake of her head, pointedly returning her attention to the movie and hoping that she wouldn't comment on the redness surrounding her eyes and nose. Her mother didn't need to be burdened with John's grief and her sadness.

It was fifteen minutes before John finally emerged from Elizabeth's bedroom, expression carved from marble. It was a side of John that Elizabeth had seen before, albeit it less severe this time, but she disliked it just as much as she always had. She knew that he would leave as soon as he told her goodbye, but she didn't want that. It might have been inappropriate, but she didn't care. She didn't want John to leave. She didn't. Some deep part of her—feminine intuition perhaps—sensed that while he was aching and in pain, she was capable of soothing it. She wanted to help him, and if she was right, it wouldn't take much to do it.

"John, come here," she whispered, gesturing for him to come over and trying to keep the interaction discreet. She knew her mother could hear her, but she had found over the years that sometimes, it was best to pretend that people who could hear you couldn't. It made almost any situation less awkward.

"Elizabeth. I was just about to leave. I'm sorry for imposing," John apologized as he moved to her sleepy perch on the couch, carefully edging behind Katherine's armchair so as not to disturb her movie experience. (Elizabeth had to give the woman props for her ability to make herself seemingly melt into the background.)

Shaking her head, Elizabeth placed a hand on John's forearm and pulled her legs (clad in a white set of pajama pants adorned with little slices of miscellaneous citrus) up close to the rest of her body, leaving the rest of the couch bare. "Stay John. Please," she implored, searching out his darkened eyes with her own. "Just till the movie's over." Seeing her 2IC's hesitation, she tightened her grip on his arm. "Please. I… I've been having nightmares again John and I… I would appreciate it if you would stay another hour. Especially after… after McKendricks," she confessed. She hadn't intended to share this with him, but Elizabeth's gut feeling told her that John shouldn't be alone at the moment. If nothing else, Elizabeth was good at reading people: a skill that had served her well in the past and continued to do so now. She was counting on John's reflexive attitude of protectiveness towards her to enable her to protect him herself.

"About the four marines, or Kolya?" John queried after a moment, listing her usual nightly terrors: acquiescing and sitting down next to her on the couch. His voice was low enough that Elizabeth was fairly certain her mother couldn't hear, but just to be safe, she squirmed about a bit until she was more upright and leaned in closer to him.

"Me hurting our people, the Wraith, the orb, the Replicators, it's all the same after a while. And it doesn't matter really," Elizabeth sighed. A wry smile then twitched across her lips. "I'm sure you would agree, John."

"Aw, me? I'm not scared of anything, remember?" John joked with her feebly, smile not reaching his eyes but voice rising back to normal volume. It was clear that he was trying to cheer her up. "I'm the knight in shining Kevlar!"

Sensing that the lightening of John's mood wasn't entirely false, Elizabeth joined in wholeheartedly, eyes pleading him to let go of his guilt, even for a little while. "Really? Nothing?" she asked coyly. "Even big scary bugs?" she hinted with an overt gesture to her neck and the grin still slapped on her face, referencing the Iratus incident.

Eyes widening in mock hurt, John retorted, "Well, if we're reduced to mentioning incidents that have been agreed as things never to be mentioned again, I'd have to say that I still like the freckles."

Elizabeth promptly elbowed him in the ribs for his trouble, and shushed his whining, dissolving into silent laughter as her mother looked at John, aghast, and told him that he was a brave man for mentioning such a thing. Taking it like a man, John solemnly replied that he'd be happy to lend her a bulletproof vest if she ever wanted to do so herself. Katherine had just rolled her eyes and returned to the movie, and John and Elizabeth had followed her example. Elizabeth grabbed his hand and squeezed it, just to be sure, and only when he squeezed it back was she satisfied that John felt a little better.

Of course, thirty minutes later, Elizabeth was back into her slumbering state, curled into a ball in her corner of the couch. Certainly she had a lot of catching up to do on sleep, and she was somewhat emotionally exhausted, but that movie had soothing powers that she could probably hand over to Area 51 for study!

"I haven't seen her like this in years, you know," her mother's voice curled around her ears in that ethereal way that words were warped through the filter of almost-sleep.

John's familiar tenor answered back almost immediately. "Yeah, it was pretty unsettling for the first few days. You should've seen her face when we first handed her a mirror. But she's still our Elizabeth, just with hair that's a bit more wild."

"I'm not talking about her appearance, Colonel Sheppard," her voice came again, causing Elizabeth to stir a bit before settling back into a more comfortable position with her face turned out of the arm of the couch, where it had previously been buried. "Wherever you are, and whatever you're doing; it means the world to my Elizabeth. I can see it in just the way she glows from the inside out. I can see it when she looks at you. She's free."

The ending credits of the movie joined Katherine's voice tickling around Elizabeth's ears, but it was long enough before John replied that Elizabeth very nearly plunged all the way into her slumber.

"She deserves to be happy," came the whisper. "And making other people happy makes her happy. She does more good than you know, Mrs. Weir. For all of us."

"She doesn't do it alone. And for that, I thank you."

"Mrs. Weir, I—"

"I think I'll be leaving now, Colonel Sheppard," her mother interrupted. "I'll see you both in the morning, before you leave. Take care."

The door closed, the weight on the couch shifted as John did, the chipper tunes emanating from her television died down to nothing, and Elizabeth exhaustedly started to drift off again, fuzziness enveloping her. That is, until she felt herself being lifted into the air. Startled, she whimpered and jerked slightly, perfectly willing to spring awake.

"Hush, Elizabeth. Go back to sleep," John told her quietly.

Elizabeth wasn't about to argue. She surrendered to the welcoming arms of slumber before John even put her down, dreaming, of all things, of the taste of orange juice.

Emotionally bipolar much? Yeah. Tell me about it. For where would the fun be without the sappy, obnoxious, and clichéd emotional drama? (Well, that, and I've been in a mood lately. I tend to take out my moods on innocent characters, generally resulting in agony or death.)

And on that chipper note, review if you dare! MUAHAHAHAHAH!