Elizabeth Weir
Past, Present and Future
Pairing: Slight John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Season/Spoiler: None
Rating: PG-13
Beta: None
Past - Age 17
She didn't know why she bothered. If it wasn't for her mother's constant nagging and the fact that she was home most of the day, Elizabeth wouldn't get up to go to school.
'Up,' her mother said tersely walking into her room and yanking the covers off her and exposing her to the cold air. 'If you miss the bus again, I am not giving you a lift.'
Elizabeth groaned and turned over onto her front. School, she hated to admit, was boring. She wanted to skip it and go straight for university, although she had no idea what she wanted to do when she had finished learning, she just wasn't challenged in high school. She had tried hard to tell her mother this over the last two months, but as usual she was described as "just behaving like a teenager" and told to do her chores.
For this time, her dad had been away on business. He had returned yesterday and not wanting to spoil the great evening they always had together when he got back, she didn't bring the topic up.
'Get up,' her mum ordered as she left the room slamming the door behind her. Despite the closed door, Elizabeth could her complaining about a lazy daughter all the way down the stairs.
'Elizabeth,' her dad said poking his head in through the door, 'don't aggravate your mother please.'
'I'm up,' she said against the pillow. 'And cold,' he added and heard his chuckle as he closed the door. She shifted across the bed and dropped her knee off the side before placing her foot down and pushing her chest up so she was almost completely standing.
She showered and dressed slowly and appeared at the bottom of the stairs in time to see the bus pull up in front. As casually as she could, she wondered into the kitchen, picked up her school bag and turned to leave.
'And what about breakfast?'
'Do you want me to eat or go to school?'
The driver beeped to get attention, but Elizabeth didn't move, her mother's glare was nothing to be trifled with, but there was no way she was letting up on the question. It was obvious at some point that she'd done something to upset her mum and it had everything to do with school.
Silence prevailed and through all of it Elizabeth forced her face to stay static, no raised brow, no look of annoyance, just mild curiosity. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the bus move away from the curb and out of sight.
'Might as well have breakfast now, 'Beth,' her dad said calmly.
'I'm not hungry,' she told him her voice filled with contempt. 'As I can't seem to get it right, get up for the school bus in time but get told off for missing breakfast,' she paused at the door and practically ripped her coat from the cupboard, 'or get up for breakfast and get yelled at for missing the bus.'
She pulled the front door open, stepped out and gave it a hard enough yank to hear it slam as she vanished down the stairs and along the garden path.
Elizabeth arrived with twenty minutes of geography left. She didn't apologise to Mr Pince as she stomped into the room and dropped into the seat at the back. She didn't even acknowledge his good morning or the "nice of you to join us, Miss Weir" that followed it. She liked Mr Pince, he was kind and left Elizabeth to it, he recognised that she knew the answers and was bored by the lesson. He also had the respect for his students that they gave him.
It had been funny when she first met him, when one of his students had rudely interrupted the lesson by holding a conversation with the boy next to him. Mr Pince had stopped what he was doing, ignored them and sat down next to Penny (who was sitting next to Elizabeth).
"It's a lovely day," he had said rather loudly. "Don't you agree?"
When the boys up front had realised that he was copying them, they had looked embarrassed. "Let me explain," he said sounding a little pompous, but still friendly. "During my lessons, I will give you the same respect you give me. You will call me Mr Pince, therefore, I will call you Miss Price," he indicated to the shy girl in the corner, "and you Miss Weir," he added to Elizabeth. "All you have to do, to be treated with respect, is show me some."
The bell jarred Elizabeth out of her stupor and she looked up to find Mr Pince hooking his finger in her direction. She got up, ignoring all the other students as they left the room and made her way calmly to the front.
'Miss Weir,' he stated casually.
'Mr Pince,' she replied matching his tone.
'I respect that you might have your reasons for being late, and I will respect your privacy not to discuss it,' he said clearing the blackboard. 'But next time you ignore me, I might not be so kind about it.'
'Yes, sir,' she said.
'I thought your father came back from Germany yesterday,' he said placing the eraser on the side, 'I expected you to be the one with the biggest and most beautiful smile.'
She couldn't even take the moment to appreciate that he had complimented her. She just wanted to get this over with; like the rest of her slow and depressing day.
'Is there something in the school that's bothering you?'
'No, sir,' she said adding an uncharacteristic sigh to the end. Mr Pince raised his eyebrow.
'What lesson should you be heading to now?'
'French,' she said with more contempt.
'Ahh, well then you won't have a problem sitting down right there,' he indicated the closest desk, 'and telling me what's going on.'
Elizabeth didn't move. She considered for a moment suggesting that she should get to her next lesson, but Mr Pince had the uncanny ability to know the strength and weakness of every student in the school.
'Something wrong?'
'Not in the school,' she said keeping her tone even this time.
'How about with the school?'
She shook her head.
'A student,' she shook her head again, 'a teacher?' another no from her, 'the lessons,' she hesitated and shook her head again. 'You're a smart young woman, Elizabeth,' he said dropping his usual respectful use of last name. 'Anyone who teaches in this school, who cannot see that, does not deserve to teach.'
Elizabeth dropped her head in an attempt to hide the smile; it wasn't the compliment or acknowledgment of her cleverness. It was the list of teachers that suddenly appeared in her head that fit his description. Her French teaching being at the top of that list.
Thankfully, before he could speak on this matter and her sudden disrespect for certain members of the faculty, someone interrupted.
'Excuse me, Mr Pince,' a small boy clearly in his first year at the school said stepping into the room. 'Mr Weir is here to see his daughter,' she saw his eyes flick to her. Mr Pince thanked the boy and turned back to Elizabeth.
'Tomorrow, Miss Weir,' he said her name dangerously making sure she knew the respect had returned, 'I expect at least an answer to my good morning.'
'Yes, Mr Pince,' she said softly and turned to the door. She paused before opening it and turned back to face him. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I didn't mean to disrespect you.'
He simply smiled at her and she returned the smile and left the room.
She expected her dad to be waiting in the corridor by the entrance. But when she showed at the main desk to find out why he was there, the seats were empty save for a young girl and her mum.
'Smokers area with the teachers, Elizabeth,' the old and pleasant woman behind the desk said. She thanked her and stepped out the front door and turned to head along the front of the building. The teachers smoking area was around the side of the building and Elizabeth listened carefully as she approached, listening to hear what they were talking about. But it wasn't the conversation that she heard.
The screeching of tires reached her ears first, the scream of a boy sounding almost cowboy like. She imagined him standing up through the sun roof of a large car, screaming as his friend drove like a mad man around corners. They were close, and she heard the next cry of joy as she rounded the corner. The ringing of gun fire accompanied the voice and Elizabeth watched in horror as the boy in the car turned.
The gun swung around and the bullets pummelled against the stone of the school. Down the side of the building her dad and two teachers tried to move quickly out of the way, only to be struck by the bullets.
She moved, taking a few quick steps towards them, heard someone call her name from behind her just as a piece of fast moving metal struck her shoulder and propelled it back against the building. She hit her head against it and the pain resonated through her skull. She turned to see her dad's eyes fixed on her for a moment before they glazed over and she passed out.
~*~
Present - Age 38
She turned the corner and stepped into the infirmary with her head down. Every year on the same day she did this, pretending the day away in her palm computer and no one seemed to notice. Except of cause for Jack O'Neill who three years ago had watched her as she vanished quickly into a bathroom; she hadn't known he'd watched until he asked if she was okay later on. She had simply had too long to think about what day of the year it was.
For now though, she was intent on putting off her medical check up for just a few more days and hoping that she could slip through the day without any emergencies or anyone asking if she was okay. But apparently that wasn't going to happen
'Elizabeth,' John called to her as she passed by his current bed. She turned in time to see him pull his shirt over his head and dropped her head to avoid studying his chest. 'I wanted to ask about the training schedule.'
'What about it?' she asked trying to remember when there was a problem with scheduling training.
'You did read the memo from the IOA right?' he said examining her. She raised the small computer again and pretended to be checking for the memo. 'Are you okay?' he asked and she paused.
'Fine,' she said. 'Excuse me,' she added and walked quickly away.
She didn't stick around to find Carson, to talk her way out of her exam. She left the room quickly and headed to the nearest unoccupied space. She crossed to the window and dropped her forehead to the cool glass.
'Elizabeth?'
She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out in shock. She had thought she was quick enough to escape. She thought to control herself as she listened to John's footsteps and made use of the PDA in her hand and recalled the memo he had mentioned.
"All members of the expedition should be trained in hand to hand combat and the use of a side arm in case of attack from enemy forces."
'You okay?' he asked tentatively.
'I can't fire a gun,' she said as strongly as she could. 'I won't fire a gun.'
'How about a stunner and we tell them it was a gun?' he said with laughter in his voice. She knew when she failed to return the joke that he would realise she had something else on her mind. 'You know, this time last year, I was stuck on another planet with Lorne's team for four days. When I got back, Teyla came to see me, told me she was worried about you, that you had spent most of two days not really knowing what was going on.'
She let out a sigh; trust Teyla to spot that something was different.
'Remember a few months after Ronon got here? We had that meeting about the scientists being taught to fight and shoot,' she nodded at the moment and he continued. 'After, Ronon asked me why you would never pick up a weapon, wanted to know why you would let someone strap the stunner to you, but wouldn't actually take hold of it or use it.'
'What did you tell him?' she asked quietly fixing her eyes on the movement on the pier below.
'The truth, that you had spent your life trying to prove they weren't needed. That they were only there for the wrong reasons,' he paused, and she wondered if he was waiting to see if she'd turned. 'He asked if there was something that caused you to think that way,' she felt him shift at her side. 'I hadn't thought about it until then. Was there?'
Elizabeth straightened up attempting to compose herself but felt the tear slip down her cheek without permission. The door behind her opened and John instantly turned away from her.
'Not now,' he said tartly to the person who had entered.
'I need to ask Elizabeth something,' Rodney said shortly and she heard his footsteps.
'Not... now,' John said harshly and she could only imagine the piercing look he gave his friend. Rodney stammered a little trying to find a good reason to carry on his interruption, but failed, groaned out a "fine" and left.
Silence filled the room and Elizabeth continued her attempts to think of something else. She couldn't understand why 21 years later she couldn't get past this day without crying. Usually she managed most of it, enough of it to make it back to her room and cry herself to sleep. Somehow working in the midst of so many enemies and surrounded by so many military personnel, it made things worse.
'My father was killed,' she said and the sob escaped her throat unbidden, 'twenty-one years ago today.'
'Shot?' John asked simply and she nodded.
'These teenagers where joyriding, one of them with a gun who just shot around wherever he wanted,' she crumpled and suddenly realised she'd never told anyone about this. 'He wasn't even supposed to be there,' she sobbed as she dropped to sit on the floor in the corner of the room.
'Where?' John asked crouching down beside her, his hand resting on her raised knee.
'My school. He was probably there to find out why I was so moody, why I snapped at my mom that morning. If I hadn't been so difficult...' she let out a helpless cry and tried to turn away from him, but his arms wrapped quickly around her and she was pulled against his chest.
For the first time she talked about it, told him what had happened that morning, how she'd been kept back in her class when someone had told her he was there. How her mother had closed her off for days, broken down and cried all day.
Elizabeth had shown up at school every day after the event and sat quietly through class. Everyone had watched her, walked egg shells around her and all the teachers had tried to get her to go home. But she refused. For her mother's sake she had been strong.
He had been the only one of the three standing down the side of the building to die. The two injured teachers, Mrs Morris (math) and Mr Harmon (debate) had come to the funeral out of respect to Elizabeth. She remembered that day clearly, her uncle had held her close and whispered that it was ok to cry, while her mother couldn't even stand up from her grief and she and her aunt sat on their knees in tears.
She hadn't cried, not then, and not for six years after. Until her university graduation day when after all the awards had been handed out she hid in her room and cried because he wasn't there to see it.
The scar on her shoulder were she'd been struck was the only show that something had happened to her that day other than the loss of a parent. She never looked at it, avoided letting her eyes go there in the mirrors and the first time Carson had examined her she had turned her head away when he asked about it. He never did get an answer to that question.
The door had opened somewhere in the midst of Elizabeth's outpour of bad memories and when she finally acknowledged that someone else was in the room, it was because he made a comment about something she said.
'I know why the scar’s there now, love,' Carson admitted as he patted her knee.
She didn't lift her head from John's chest, it felt safe. He always had been a comfort for her. From his flirting moments to his disregard to her authority, she always knew he'd be there. She didn't love him, she cared for him, more that she wanted to admit and it scared her to think that one day he'd return to the city with a bullet in his chest, just where her dad had been shot and she'd have to stand tall in front of the expedition members and give his funeral.
They stayed in the room for hours only to leave when the darkening sky outside had made it impossible to see their hands in front of their faces. She dried her face, hoping no one would see the tear tracks and stepped blinking into the corridor.
Despite the fact that John's room was closer to the infirmary, he insisted on walking all the way to her room with her. It turned out to be a good idea as Rodney and Radek attempted to bombard her with work and he dismissed them and told them to try again day after next.
He whistled as she stepped out of the bathroom. 'Sexy lady,' his eyes dropping to her legs. She quickly moved to the bed and climbed in to cover her cotton pyjamas. She knew he was watching as she fussed with the blanket and when she got frustrated with the corner she couldn't quite reach he moved over and straightened it.
'Thank you,' she said just before he pushed her shoulders back to make her lay down. 'I don't need tucking in, John, I'm a full grown adult.'
'Ah, so you don't want a bedtime story either?'
'No,' she laughed at him; he always seemed to find a way to make her feel better, even if he didn't know it. 'I want to try,' she said and John's brow creased. 'Target practice with a gun.'
'You don't have to Elizabeth,' he said sympathetically, 'we can tell them you did, they won't know. What're they gonna do, turn up and demand to see you fire one?'
'Just once,' she said, 'to see if I can. Just...,' she hesitated and looked away from him.
'What?'
'I don't want anyone else in the room,' she said shyly. 'No chance of an accident.'
'Okay,' he said with a small smile. 'No one else. Goodnight Elizabeth.'
~*~
Future - Age 47
She crossed the corridor to the control room and stopped behind the technician. Two years ago, she had made a very big mistake in Atlantis, since that day, she had been stuck Earth side. At first, she'd hated it, withdrawn from everything Stargate related and attempted to fit back into her old life.
It hadn't worked, especially when John showed up at her door and asked why she never replied to his letters.
Today however, was a wonderful day. In little under 25 hours she'd be on board the Daedalus, driving the new captain nutty for the two day travel back to the city.
She was going home.
She had spent the last few days wondering just what John Sheppard, Colonel, not Lieutenant Colonel, had done to get her back. How badly had he messed up to make the IOA realise they had made a mistake by judging her decision after the mistake was made.
The day she had left, he had ranted for hours, followed her around while she was still there trying to find a reason why they couldn't see how stupid they were. Why they couldn't comprehend how hard it was to make the right call and how easy it was to see the right way out of a situation, when you're stuck safely behind a desk and only seeing the aftermath.
She knew Rodney had written letters, he always sent her a copy. The first one of which had been like a book, 75 pages long and detailing all the things Elizabeth had done right and weighing them against all the wrongs choices she had made in the past 10 years. She was thankful the ones that had followed had been kept down to less than five pages, although she wondered just how much he kept back.
She made a note to ask him as she watched John and Ronon step through the SGC's Stargate. They looked good, healthy and as she stepped into the gate room to greet them she took in the thin scar that ran down Ronon's neck just missing his tattoo.
She finally knew where she belonged in the world. It had only taken 30 years.
Pairing: Slight John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Season/Spoiler: None
Rating: PG-13
Beta: None
Past - Age 17
She didn't know why she bothered. If it wasn't for her mother's constant nagging and the fact that she was home most of the day, Elizabeth wouldn't get up to go to school.
'Up,' her mother said tersely walking into her room and yanking the covers off her and exposing her to the cold air. 'If you miss the bus again, I am not giving you a lift.'
Elizabeth groaned and turned over onto her front. School, she hated to admit, was boring. She wanted to skip it and go straight for university, although she had no idea what she wanted to do when she had finished learning, she just wasn't challenged in high school. She had tried hard to tell her mother this over the last two months, but as usual she was described as "just behaving like a teenager" and told to do her chores.
For this time, her dad had been away on business. He had returned yesterday and not wanting to spoil the great evening they always had together when he got back, she didn't bring the topic up.
'Get up,' her mum ordered as she left the room slamming the door behind her. Despite the closed door, Elizabeth could her complaining about a lazy daughter all the way down the stairs.
'Elizabeth,' her dad said poking his head in through the door, 'don't aggravate your mother please.'
'I'm up,' she said against the pillow. 'And cold,' he added and heard his chuckle as he closed the door. She shifted across the bed and dropped her knee off the side before placing her foot down and pushing her chest up so she was almost completely standing.
She showered and dressed slowly and appeared at the bottom of the stairs in time to see the bus pull up in front. As casually as she could, she wondered into the kitchen, picked up her school bag and turned to leave.
'And what about breakfast?'
'Do you want me to eat or go to school?'
The driver beeped to get attention, but Elizabeth didn't move, her mother's glare was nothing to be trifled with, but there was no way she was letting up on the question. It was obvious at some point that she'd done something to upset her mum and it had everything to do with school.
Silence prevailed and through all of it Elizabeth forced her face to stay static, no raised brow, no look of annoyance, just mild curiosity. Out of the corner of her eye she watched the bus move away from the curb and out of sight.
'Might as well have breakfast now, 'Beth,' her dad said calmly.
'I'm not hungry,' she told him her voice filled with contempt. 'As I can't seem to get it right, get up for the school bus in time but get told off for missing breakfast,' she paused at the door and practically ripped her coat from the cupboard, 'or get up for breakfast and get yelled at for missing the bus.'
She pulled the front door open, stepped out and gave it a hard enough yank to hear it slam as she vanished down the stairs and along the garden path.
Elizabeth arrived with twenty minutes of geography left. She didn't apologise to Mr Pince as she stomped into the room and dropped into the seat at the back. She didn't even acknowledge his good morning or the "nice of you to join us, Miss Weir" that followed it. She liked Mr Pince, he was kind and left Elizabeth to it, he recognised that she knew the answers and was bored by the lesson. He also had the respect for his students that they gave him.
It had been funny when she first met him, when one of his students had rudely interrupted the lesson by holding a conversation with the boy next to him. Mr Pince had stopped what he was doing, ignored them and sat down next to Penny (who was sitting next to Elizabeth).
"It's a lovely day," he had said rather loudly. "Don't you agree?"
When the boys up front had realised that he was copying them, they had looked embarrassed. "Let me explain," he said sounding a little pompous, but still friendly. "During my lessons, I will give you the same respect you give me. You will call me Mr Pince, therefore, I will call you Miss Price," he indicated to the shy girl in the corner, "and you Miss Weir," he added to Elizabeth. "All you have to do, to be treated with respect, is show me some."
The bell jarred Elizabeth out of her stupor and she looked up to find Mr Pince hooking his finger in her direction. She got up, ignoring all the other students as they left the room and made her way calmly to the front.
'Miss Weir,' he stated casually.
'Mr Pince,' she replied matching his tone.
'I respect that you might have your reasons for being late, and I will respect your privacy not to discuss it,' he said clearing the blackboard. 'But next time you ignore me, I might not be so kind about it.'
'Yes, sir,' she said.
'I thought your father came back from Germany yesterday,' he said placing the eraser on the side, 'I expected you to be the one with the biggest and most beautiful smile.'
She couldn't even take the moment to appreciate that he had complimented her. She just wanted to get this over with; like the rest of her slow and depressing day.
'Is there something in the school that's bothering you?'
'No, sir,' she said adding an uncharacteristic sigh to the end. Mr Pince raised his eyebrow.
'What lesson should you be heading to now?'
'French,' she said with more contempt.
'Ahh, well then you won't have a problem sitting down right there,' he indicated the closest desk, 'and telling me what's going on.'
Elizabeth didn't move. She considered for a moment suggesting that she should get to her next lesson, but Mr Pince had the uncanny ability to know the strength and weakness of every student in the school.
'Something wrong?'
'Not in the school,' she said keeping her tone even this time.
'How about with the school?'
She shook her head.
'A student,' she shook her head again, 'a teacher?' another no from her, 'the lessons,' she hesitated and shook her head again. 'You're a smart young woman, Elizabeth,' he said dropping his usual respectful use of last name. 'Anyone who teaches in this school, who cannot see that, does not deserve to teach.'
Elizabeth dropped her head in an attempt to hide the smile; it wasn't the compliment or acknowledgment of her cleverness. It was the list of teachers that suddenly appeared in her head that fit his description. Her French teaching being at the top of that list.
Thankfully, before he could speak on this matter and her sudden disrespect for certain members of the faculty, someone interrupted.
'Excuse me, Mr Pince,' a small boy clearly in his first year at the school said stepping into the room. 'Mr Weir is here to see his daughter,' she saw his eyes flick to her. Mr Pince thanked the boy and turned back to Elizabeth.
'Tomorrow, Miss Weir,' he said her name dangerously making sure she knew the respect had returned, 'I expect at least an answer to my good morning.'
'Yes, Mr Pince,' she said softly and turned to the door. She paused before opening it and turned back to face him. 'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I didn't mean to disrespect you.'
He simply smiled at her and she returned the smile and left the room.
She expected her dad to be waiting in the corridor by the entrance. But when she showed at the main desk to find out why he was there, the seats were empty save for a young girl and her mum.
'Smokers area with the teachers, Elizabeth,' the old and pleasant woman behind the desk said. She thanked her and stepped out the front door and turned to head along the front of the building. The teachers smoking area was around the side of the building and Elizabeth listened carefully as she approached, listening to hear what they were talking about. But it wasn't the conversation that she heard.
The screeching of tires reached her ears first, the scream of a boy sounding almost cowboy like. She imagined him standing up through the sun roof of a large car, screaming as his friend drove like a mad man around corners. They were close, and she heard the next cry of joy as she rounded the corner. The ringing of gun fire accompanied the voice and Elizabeth watched in horror as the boy in the car turned.
The gun swung around and the bullets pummelled against the stone of the school. Down the side of the building her dad and two teachers tried to move quickly out of the way, only to be struck by the bullets.
She moved, taking a few quick steps towards them, heard someone call her name from behind her just as a piece of fast moving metal struck her shoulder and propelled it back against the building. She hit her head against it and the pain resonated through her skull. She turned to see her dad's eyes fixed on her for a moment before they glazed over and she passed out.
~*~
Present - Age 38
She turned the corner and stepped into the infirmary with her head down. Every year on the same day she did this, pretending the day away in her palm computer and no one seemed to notice. Except of cause for Jack O'Neill who three years ago had watched her as she vanished quickly into a bathroom; she hadn't known he'd watched until he asked if she was okay later on. She had simply had too long to think about what day of the year it was.
For now though, she was intent on putting off her medical check up for just a few more days and hoping that she could slip through the day without any emergencies or anyone asking if she was okay. But apparently that wasn't going to happen
'Elizabeth,' John called to her as she passed by his current bed. She turned in time to see him pull his shirt over his head and dropped her head to avoid studying his chest. 'I wanted to ask about the training schedule.'
'What about it?' she asked trying to remember when there was a problem with scheduling training.
'You did read the memo from the IOA right?' he said examining her. She raised the small computer again and pretended to be checking for the memo. 'Are you okay?' he asked and she paused.
'Fine,' she said. 'Excuse me,' she added and walked quickly away.
She didn't stick around to find Carson, to talk her way out of her exam. She left the room quickly and headed to the nearest unoccupied space. She crossed to the window and dropped her forehead to the cool glass.
'Elizabeth?'
She had to bite her lip to stop from crying out in shock. She had thought she was quick enough to escape. She thought to control herself as she listened to John's footsteps and made use of the PDA in her hand and recalled the memo he had mentioned.
"All members of the expedition should be trained in hand to hand combat and the use of a side arm in case of attack from enemy forces."
'You okay?' he asked tentatively.
'I can't fire a gun,' she said as strongly as she could. 'I won't fire a gun.'
'How about a stunner and we tell them it was a gun?' he said with laughter in his voice. She knew when she failed to return the joke that he would realise she had something else on her mind. 'You know, this time last year, I was stuck on another planet with Lorne's team for four days. When I got back, Teyla came to see me, told me she was worried about you, that you had spent most of two days not really knowing what was going on.'
She let out a sigh; trust Teyla to spot that something was different.
'Remember a few months after Ronon got here? We had that meeting about the scientists being taught to fight and shoot,' she nodded at the moment and he continued. 'After, Ronon asked me why you would never pick up a weapon, wanted to know why you would let someone strap the stunner to you, but wouldn't actually take hold of it or use it.'
'What did you tell him?' she asked quietly fixing her eyes on the movement on the pier below.
'The truth, that you had spent your life trying to prove they weren't needed. That they were only there for the wrong reasons,' he paused, and she wondered if he was waiting to see if she'd turned. 'He asked if there was something that caused you to think that way,' she felt him shift at her side. 'I hadn't thought about it until then. Was there?'
Elizabeth straightened up attempting to compose herself but felt the tear slip down her cheek without permission. The door behind her opened and John instantly turned away from her.
'Not now,' he said tartly to the person who had entered.
'I need to ask Elizabeth something,' Rodney said shortly and she heard his footsteps.
'Not... now,' John said harshly and she could only imagine the piercing look he gave his friend. Rodney stammered a little trying to find a good reason to carry on his interruption, but failed, groaned out a "fine" and left.
Silence filled the room and Elizabeth continued her attempts to think of something else. She couldn't understand why 21 years later she couldn't get past this day without crying. Usually she managed most of it, enough of it to make it back to her room and cry herself to sleep. Somehow working in the midst of so many enemies and surrounded by so many military personnel, it made things worse.
'My father was killed,' she said and the sob escaped her throat unbidden, 'twenty-one years ago today.'
'Shot?' John asked simply and she nodded.
'These teenagers where joyriding, one of them with a gun who just shot around wherever he wanted,' she crumpled and suddenly realised she'd never told anyone about this. 'He wasn't even supposed to be there,' she sobbed as she dropped to sit on the floor in the corner of the room.
'Where?' John asked crouching down beside her, his hand resting on her raised knee.
'My school. He was probably there to find out why I was so moody, why I snapped at my mom that morning. If I hadn't been so difficult...' she let out a helpless cry and tried to turn away from him, but his arms wrapped quickly around her and she was pulled against his chest.
For the first time she talked about it, told him what had happened that morning, how she'd been kept back in her class when someone had told her he was there. How her mother had closed her off for days, broken down and cried all day.
Elizabeth had shown up at school every day after the event and sat quietly through class. Everyone had watched her, walked egg shells around her and all the teachers had tried to get her to go home. But she refused. For her mother's sake she had been strong.
He had been the only one of the three standing down the side of the building to die. The two injured teachers, Mrs Morris (math) and Mr Harmon (debate) had come to the funeral out of respect to Elizabeth. She remembered that day clearly, her uncle had held her close and whispered that it was ok to cry, while her mother couldn't even stand up from her grief and she and her aunt sat on their knees in tears.
She hadn't cried, not then, and not for six years after. Until her university graduation day when after all the awards had been handed out she hid in her room and cried because he wasn't there to see it.
The scar on her shoulder were she'd been struck was the only show that something had happened to her that day other than the loss of a parent. She never looked at it, avoided letting her eyes go there in the mirrors and the first time Carson had examined her she had turned her head away when he asked about it. He never did get an answer to that question.
The door had opened somewhere in the midst of Elizabeth's outpour of bad memories and when she finally acknowledged that someone else was in the room, it was because he made a comment about something she said.
'I know why the scar’s there now, love,' Carson admitted as he patted her knee.
She didn't lift her head from John's chest, it felt safe. He always had been a comfort for her. From his flirting moments to his disregard to her authority, she always knew he'd be there. She didn't love him, she cared for him, more that she wanted to admit and it scared her to think that one day he'd return to the city with a bullet in his chest, just where her dad had been shot and she'd have to stand tall in front of the expedition members and give his funeral.
They stayed in the room for hours only to leave when the darkening sky outside had made it impossible to see their hands in front of their faces. She dried her face, hoping no one would see the tear tracks and stepped blinking into the corridor.
Despite the fact that John's room was closer to the infirmary, he insisted on walking all the way to her room with her. It turned out to be a good idea as Rodney and Radek attempted to bombard her with work and he dismissed them and told them to try again day after next.
He whistled as she stepped out of the bathroom. 'Sexy lady,' his eyes dropping to her legs. She quickly moved to the bed and climbed in to cover her cotton pyjamas. She knew he was watching as she fussed with the blanket and when she got frustrated with the corner she couldn't quite reach he moved over and straightened it.
'Thank you,' she said just before he pushed her shoulders back to make her lay down. 'I don't need tucking in, John, I'm a full grown adult.'
'Ah, so you don't want a bedtime story either?'
'No,' she laughed at him; he always seemed to find a way to make her feel better, even if he didn't know it. 'I want to try,' she said and John's brow creased. 'Target practice with a gun.'
'You don't have to Elizabeth,' he said sympathetically, 'we can tell them you did, they won't know. What're they gonna do, turn up and demand to see you fire one?'
'Just once,' she said, 'to see if I can. Just...,' she hesitated and looked away from him.
'What?'
'I don't want anyone else in the room,' she said shyly. 'No chance of an accident.'
'Okay,' he said with a small smile. 'No one else. Goodnight Elizabeth.'
~*~
Future - Age 47
She crossed the corridor to the control room and stopped behind the technician. Two years ago, she had made a very big mistake in Atlantis, since that day, she had been stuck Earth side. At first, she'd hated it, withdrawn from everything Stargate related and attempted to fit back into her old life.
It hadn't worked, especially when John showed up at her door and asked why she never replied to his letters.
Today however, was a wonderful day. In little under 25 hours she'd be on board the Daedalus, driving the new captain nutty for the two day travel back to the city.
She was going home.
She had spent the last few days wondering just what John Sheppard, Colonel, not Lieutenant Colonel, had done to get her back. How badly had he messed up to make the IOA realise they had made a mistake by judging her decision after the mistake was made.
The day she had left, he had ranted for hours, followed her around while she was still there trying to find a reason why they couldn't see how stupid they were. Why they couldn't comprehend how hard it was to make the right call and how easy it was to see the right way out of a situation, when you're stuck safely behind a desk and only seeing the aftermath.
She knew Rodney had written letters, he always sent her a copy. The first one of which had been like a book, 75 pages long and detailing all the things Elizabeth had done right and weighing them against all the wrongs choices she had made in the past 10 years. She was thankful the ones that had followed had been kept down to less than five pages, although she wondered just how much he kept back.
She made a note to ask him as she watched John and Ronon step through the SGC's Stargate. They looked good, healthy and as she stepped into the gate room to greet them she took in the thin scar that ran down Ronon's neck just missing his tattoo.
She finally knew where she belonged in the world. It had only taken 30 years.