[fic] [swficathon] [SGA] You Might Need Somebody
Title: You Might Need Somebody
Fandom: SGA
Author: calleigh_j
Written for: claraon
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: Set after 3.06 'The Real World'
Pairings: John/Elizabeth UST
Word Count: 1,618
Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the title
Summary: He worries about her
Feedback/Concrit: Is made of win and very much appreciated
Author's Note: claraon asked for an impromptu meeting, water, and UST - I hope you enjoy it! Hugs to alianne for being an awesome beta
The Mess Hall is empty and dark when Elizabeth steps inside. She waves her hand over the sensor that controls the lights, and blinks a little when the room is suddenly bright; much brighter than the hallways, which remain dimly lit throughout the night. At the far side of the room is a table bearing various items of food and drink, left out for those working the night shift, or those like Elizabeth who are just working late. Elizabeth crosses the room, pausing to push in a couple of chairs left sticking out by their last occupants, and picks up a couple of bottles of water. It seems that even she can have too much caffeine sometimes, and she’s feeling the tension in her forehead like a constant reminder of just how much she still has to do, how much she always has to do no matter how late or how hard she works.
As she turns away from the table, she stops, attention caught by the view from the large windows. It’s beautiful outside; dark sea, dark sky, peaceful in a way life inside the city rarely is. But staring at the view won’t finish all the paperwork still piled on her desk, so she drags her gaze away and heads determinedly back towards her office. She looks at her watch and grimaces. So many times back on Earth she remembers wishing that there could be, just occasionally, more than twenty-four hours in the day so she could get done everything she needed to. On Atlantis, they get more than twenty-four hours every day, and still it’s never enough time.
Inside the doorway, she waves at the sensor again to turn the lights off and stands still for a second, eyes readjusting once again to the change in brightness. With the hallway seeming dark still and her mind immersed in thoughts of exactly how many hours she would need to finish all her work, she doesn’t see the figure come around the corner until it’s too late and they’ve collided. The force makes her lose her balance and though she doesn’t actually fall, she drops both bottles of water.
“Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”
It’s John. Of course it’s John; she doesn’t know anyone else, with the possible exception of Ronon, who would be running these particular corridors at this time of night. Other people are around, mostly scientists and those working the graveyard shift, and for that reason any other people who might have the urge to run in the middle of the night usually picked the more remote routes, so as not to disturb anyone. John, on the other hand, runs the most populated corridors and though he’s refused more than a few times to tell her why he runs here at night when during the day he keeps to the piers and the empty passageways, she suspects he just wants to keep an eye on ‘his’ people.
“I was just getting some water,” Elizabeth replies, bending down to pick up the bottles.
“Late night?” he asks pointlessly, running a hand through his hair.
“I’d be more surprised if I was having an early night,” Elizabeth jokes, uncapping one of the bottles and offering it to John. He takes it with a nod of thanks and takes a couple of long swallows.
“I’ll walk you back to your office,” he offers as he lowers the bottle and screws the lid back.
“Sure.”
It’s not far from the Mess Hall to her office, and on nights like this, when everything seems just a little bit too hard for her to cope with, she thanks whichever Ancient designed this portion of the city and decided that their leader, the person who first occupied her office, shouldn’t have to walk far to get food or drink. They walk in silence, strides synchronising so completely within a few steps that Elizabeth doesn’t think anyone listening would be able to tell that there was more than one person.
John walks her right to her desk and Elizabeth can’t help but be charmed by his gesture. He makes to set the water she gave him down but she stops him.
“It’s fine; I have this bottle.”
“Are you sure? I could get you another one.”
“John, it’s fine,” she repeats.
“Okay. Thanks. Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Night, John.”
“Get some sleep - we need Elizabeth in the control room in the morning, not a sleep-deprived zombie-esque version,” he teases.
“I could say the same thing about you,” Elizabeth teases back.
Determined to get at least one thing crossed off her ‘To do’ list now before she goes through her nightly ritual of adding to the list, before she leaves, everything new for tomorrow, Elizabeth focuses her attention straight back on her work. It isn’t until John speaks up again that she even realises he hasn’t left her office yet.
“It’s just paperwork, right?”
Elizabeth looks up at him, startled both by his non-departure and his question.
“What?”
“It’s just paperwork keeping you up, right?” he asks, “I mean, you’re not...you’re not still having trouble sleeping, are you?”
For a second, Elizabeth wonders how he knew about her sleeping difficulties, given that the only people she’d talked about it with were Carson and Kate, but honestly, she’s not all that surprised he noticed. He’s more observant than he’d like people to think.
In the weeks immediately following her...experience with the nanites, Elizabeth had had trouble sleeping. She’d lain awake in the dark, unwilling to close her eyes, fearing that she would wake up back in some padded cell with people trying to convince her that Atlantis was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. When she finally did sleep, she’d dreamt of running through the warren-like corridors of the SGC, searching for a way out, but always ending up where she started, no matter which direction she went in. The dreams were slowly fading, but still she couldn’t quite shake the memory of the padded cell and the doctors and the drugs.
“I’m doing okay,” she replies, forcing a smile onto her face.
John looks at her disbelievingly from the doorway, raising an eyebrow in what she suspects is an imitation of her.
“I’m okay,” she insists, “Really, I am. I’m getting a good three or four hours sleep, and the dreams have almost stopped.”
The look on his face when she mentions the dreams reminds her that she hadn’t mentioned them to anyone besides Kate, and even to Kate she’d only spoken about them in the vaguest of terms, so that Kate didn’t worry that she was bottling everything up inside.
“Dreams?” he echoes concerned, coming back into the room but stopping short of taking his usual seat on the edge of her desk.
“I had some dreams,” Elizabeth explains cautiously, “After the nanites.”
“Dreams about what?” John persists, stepping closer to the desk.
Elizabeth groans inwardly: this was exactly the conversation she’d been trying to avoid by not saying anything about the dreams.
“John, I appreciate the concern,” Elizabeth says evasively, “But really, I’m fine. It was just a couple of dreams.”
Again, the raised eyebrow appears: he’s not impressed with her scant explanation, and if their positions were reversed, she’s certain she would be just as sceptical. His expression softens a little as he steps around the desk to stand in front of her chair and she holds his gaze until he looks away.
“Elizabeth, you can talk to me,” he says, still persistent but warmer now.
“I’m okay, John, I promise,” Elizabeth says firmly, pushing herself up out of her chair so she’s standing directly in front of him.
“I worry about you, Elizabeth,” John says softly, “We all do. The city needs you at your best. Everyone relies on you to be the cool head in a crisis, to be the person anyone can go to if they have a problem. If there’s something bothering you, you should talk to someone about it.”
It’s Elizabeth’s turn to raise an eyebrow now.
“I should talk to someone? This, coming from you?”
In her tone is a mixture of amusement and affection. The source of the amusement is obvious; the fact that John, of all people, is suggesting she talk to someone about her problems. The source of the affection is a little more vague and not something Elizabeth wants to think too deeply about.
“I know I’m not exactly the poster child for sharing,” he says sheepishly, “But you’re more important to the city than I am. I need...we need you to be okay.”
“I’m okay,” she says once more, “John, I swear I am, and I’m sorry if I gave you cause for concern. It took me a little time to get over what happened with the nanites, but I’m fine now.”
He looks at her for a long moment and something in her eyes seems to satisfy him.
“Okay,” he says finally, stepping out from behind the desk and crossing the office to the doors. Stopping for a second just inside the room, he adds, “You know you can always talk to me if there’s something wrong, right?”
“Thank you, John,” Elizabeth replies sincerely, sitting down in her chair again, “Oh, and John?”
He’s out of the office now, but stops and turns when he hears her voice.
“You’re important to the city, and you’re important to me. Don’t forget that.”
He stares at her, looking a little surprised, and then smiles and nods. He heads off at a jog, going in the general direction of his quarters. Elizabeth smiles to herself and turns back to her work. Somehow, it doesn’t look quite as bad as before.
Fandom: SGA
Author: calleigh_j
Written for: claraon
Rating: G
Warnings/Spoilers: Set after 3.06 'The Real World'
Pairings: John/Elizabeth UST
Word Count: 1,618
Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the title
Summary: He worries about her
Feedback/Concrit: Is made of win and very much appreciated
Author's Note: claraon asked for an impromptu meeting, water, and UST - I hope you enjoy it! Hugs to alianne for being an awesome beta
The Mess Hall is empty and dark when Elizabeth steps inside. She waves her hand over the sensor that controls the lights, and blinks a little when the room is suddenly bright; much brighter than the hallways, which remain dimly lit throughout the night. At the far side of the room is a table bearing various items of food and drink, left out for those working the night shift, or those like Elizabeth who are just working late. Elizabeth crosses the room, pausing to push in a couple of chairs left sticking out by their last occupants, and picks up a couple of bottles of water. It seems that even she can have too much caffeine sometimes, and she’s feeling the tension in her forehead like a constant reminder of just how much she still has to do, how much she always has to do no matter how late or how hard she works.
As she turns away from the table, she stops, attention caught by the view from the large windows. It’s beautiful outside; dark sea, dark sky, peaceful in a way life inside the city rarely is. But staring at the view won’t finish all the paperwork still piled on her desk, so she drags her gaze away and heads determinedly back towards her office. She looks at her watch and grimaces. So many times back on Earth she remembers wishing that there could be, just occasionally, more than twenty-four hours in the day so she could get done everything she needed to. On Atlantis, they get more than twenty-four hours every day, and still it’s never enough time.
Inside the doorway, she waves at the sensor again to turn the lights off and stands still for a second, eyes readjusting once again to the change in brightness. With the hallway seeming dark still and her mind immersed in thoughts of exactly how many hours she would need to finish all her work, she doesn’t see the figure come around the corner until it’s too late and they’ve collided. The force makes her lose her balance and though she doesn’t actually fall, she drops both bottles of water.
“Elizabeth, what are you doing here?”
It’s John. Of course it’s John; she doesn’t know anyone else, with the possible exception of Ronon, who would be running these particular corridors at this time of night. Other people are around, mostly scientists and those working the graveyard shift, and for that reason any other people who might have the urge to run in the middle of the night usually picked the more remote routes, so as not to disturb anyone. John, on the other hand, runs the most populated corridors and though he’s refused more than a few times to tell her why he runs here at night when during the day he keeps to the piers and the empty passageways, she suspects he just wants to keep an eye on ‘his’ people.
“I was just getting some water,” Elizabeth replies, bending down to pick up the bottles.
“Late night?” he asks pointlessly, running a hand through his hair.
“I’d be more surprised if I was having an early night,” Elizabeth jokes, uncapping one of the bottles and offering it to John. He takes it with a nod of thanks and takes a couple of long swallows.
“I’ll walk you back to your office,” he offers as he lowers the bottle and screws the lid back.
“Sure.”
It’s not far from the Mess Hall to her office, and on nights like this, when everything seems just a little bit too hard for her to cope with, she thanks whichever Ancient designed this portion of the city and decided that their leader, the person who first occupied her office, shouldn’t have to walk far to get food or drink. They walk in silence, strides synchronising so completely within a few steps that Elizabeth doesn’t think anyone listening would be able to tell that there was more than one person.
John walks her right to her desk and Elizabeth can’t help but be charmed by his gesture. He makes to set the water she gave him down but she stops him.
“It’s fine; I have this bottle.”
“Are you sure? I could get you another one.”
“John, it’s fine,” she repeats.
“Okay. Thanks. Goodnight, Elizabeth.”
“Night, John.”
“Get some sleep - we need Elizabeth in the control room in the morning, not a sleep-deprived zombie-esque version,” he teases.
“I could say the same thing about you,” Elizabeth teases back.
Determined to get at least one thing crossed off her ‘To do’ list now before she goes through her nightly ritual of adding to the list, before she leaves, everything new for tomorrow, Elizabeth focuses her attention straight back on her work. It isn’t until John speaks up again that she even realises he hasn’t left her office yet.
“It’s just paperwork, right?”
Elizabeth looks up at him, startled both by his non-departure and his question.
“What?”
“It’s just paperwork keeping you up, right?” he asks, “I mean, you’re not...you’re not still having trouble sleeping, are you?”
For a second, Elizabeth wonders how he knew about her sleeping difficulties, given that the only people she’d talked about it with were Carson and Kate, but honestly, she’s not all that surprised he noticed. He’s more observant than he’d like people to think.
In the weeks immediately following her...experience with the nanites, Elizabeth had had trouble sleeping. She’d lain awake in the dark, unwilling to close her eyes, fearing that she would wake up back in some padded cell with people trying to convince her that Atlantis was nothing more than a figment of her imagination. When she finally did sleep, she’d dreamt of running through the warren-like corridors of the SGC, searching for a way out, but always ending up where she started, no matter which direction she went in. The dreams were slowly fading, but still she couldn’t quite shake the memory of the padded cell and the doctors and the drugs.
“I’m doing okay,” she replies, forcing a smile onto her face.
John looks at her disbelievingly from the doorway, raising an eyebrow in what she suspects is an imitation of her.
“I’m okay,” she insists, “Really, I am. I’m getting a good three or four hours sleep, and the dreams have almost stopped.”
The look on his face when she mentions the dreams reminds her that she hadn’t mentioned them to anyone besides Kate, and even to Kate she’d only spoken about them in the vaguest of terms, so that Kate didn’t worry that she was bottling everything up inside.
“Dreams?” he echoes concerned, coming back into the room but stopping short of taking his usual seat on the edge of her desk.
“I had some dreams,” Elizabeth explains cautiously, “After the nanites.”
“Dreams about what?” John persists, stepping closer to the desk.
Elizabeth groans inwardly: this was exactly the conversation she’d been trying to avoid by not saying anything about the dreams.
“John, I appreciate the concern,” Elizabeth says evasively, “But really, I’m fine. It was just a couple of dreams.”
Again, the raised eyebrow appears: he’s not impressed with her scant explanation, and if their positions were reversed, she’s certain she would be just as sceptical. His expression softens a little as he steps around the desk to stand in front of her chair and she holds his gaze until he looks away.
“Elizabeth, you can talk to me,” he says, still persistent but warmer now.
“I’m okay, John, I promise,” Elizabeth says firmly, pushing herself up out of her chair so she’s standing directly in front of him.
“I worry about you, Elizabeth,” John says softly, “We all do. The city needs you at your best. Everyone relies on you to be the cool head in a crisis, to be the person anyone can go to if they have a problem. If there’s something bothering you, you should talk to someone about it.”
It’s Elizabeth’s turn to raise an eyebrow now.
“I should talk to someone? This, coming from you?”
In her tone is a mixture of amusement and affection. The source of the amusement is obvious; the fact that John, of all people, is suggesting she talk to someone about her problems. The source of the affection is a little more vague and not something Elizabeth wants to think too deeply about.
“I know I’m not exactly the poster child for sharing,” he says sheepishly, “But you’re more important to the city than I am. I need...we need you to be okay.”
“I’m okay,” she says once more, “John, I swear I am, and I’m sorry if I gave you cause for concern. It took me a little time to get over what happened with the nanites, but I’m fine now.”
He looks at her for a long moment and something in her eyes seems to satisfy him.
“Okay,” he says finally, stepping out from behind the desk and crossing the office to the doors. Stopping for a second just inside the room, he adds, “You know you can always talk to me if there’s something wrong, right?”
“Thank you, John,” Elizabeth replies sincerely, sitting down in her chair again, “Oh, and John?”
He’s out of the office now, but stops and turns when he hears her voice.
“You’re important to the city, and you’re important to me. Don’t forget that.”
He stares at her, looking a little surprised, and then smiles and nods. He heads off at a jog, going in the general direction of his quarters. Elizabeth smiles to herself and turns back to her work. Somehow, it doesn’t look quite as bad as before.