FF: Learning to Fly - The Road to Hell 3/3 PG-13 (Sheppard/Weir)
*
They'd been doing this so long it didn’t surprise her when she heard the knock on the door followed by the soft whoosh signaling John had entered her room. Elizabeth looked up from the report she was writing at her desk, coolly appraising him. "We need to talk."
"Look, I'm sorry about this morning, but I thought you should rest," he responded curtly.
"This is about more than this morning John." She set her laptop aside, turning her chair to look more fully at him. "What's going on with you? You've been acting strangely all day."
"I'm fine," John sighed, leaning against the wall, even though he knew she expected him to sit down. He didn't want to sit down. At the moment he didn't want to be anywhere near this conversation even if he had been expecting it.
"You snapped at Rodney."
"He deserved it."
"John-"
"Elizabeth, I really don't want to get into this right now. For once, can we respect my wishes, and just leave this alone?"
He regretted the words instantly when she flinched, the comment cutting deeper than intended. "You think I don't," she faltered, off-center. "You think I don't respect you?"
"I didn't mean it like that-"
"Then how did you mean it?" She asked, her tone razor edged.
He ran a hand roughly over his face. "It's been a long couple of days."
"That's not an answer."
"Well, I don't have an answer you're gonna like," John exploded, shoving off the wall in agitation.
Responding in kind, Elizabeth pushed out of the chair, bringing them back to equal height. "Who cares if I like the answer? Talk to me." She held his gaze in a battle of wills, watching as undefined emotions crossed over his face. Anger maybe? Pain? Exhaustion? Her tone softened, but only just. "I can't help you if you won't let me in."
He laughed mirthlessly. "You can't help me. That's the problem. You're just as stuck as I am."
"John-"
"No, this was a bad idea. I need to get out of here…" He started for the door but her voice stopped him short. Battling against disappointing her and facing his own demons, he barely turned to acknowledge her.
"John." She waited until he turned more, finally met her eyes. "You're going to calm down and we're going to talk about this."
"And if I say no?" His tone bordered on mutinous and it was then she realized just how far gone he really was.
"You're implying you have a choice," she answered, her tone just as dangerous. "You've pushed your limits way too far. We either talk about this now and you explain what's going on, or… we don't talk."
He crossed his arms in stiff-lipped defiance, giving her all the answer she needed.
Jaw set, she mimicked his pose. "It didn't have to be like this."
He'd known this was coming since the moment he'd flipped her alarm off that morning. He'd told himself then, and every minute after, that he would deal with it. Would take the punishment. Would take anything to stop the noise in his head, the feelings that raged inside him without explanation.
Surprisingly she didn't order him to the wall, or to his knees, but settled on the edge of the bed. "Come here."
John felt a rush of panic as he realized just what she intended. Normally, when she'd had the occasion to punish him, it was detached, almost impersonal. The leather of a belt, the wood of a paddle between them. This time, as he dropped his pants and sprawled uncomfortably over her lap, there would be nothing separating them. Just Elizabeth's hand and his flesh. And while they'd had their share of spanking for fun, he was under no illusions that this was going to be enjoyable.
He felt the tension in her body, the rigid posture she held as she raised her hand, and braced for the fist swat. Skin connected with skin making his ass sting. He gritted his teeth, but held still, even as she followed up with a second swat to the other cheek. Another followed, and another. John clenched his fist in the bed cover, his jaw nearly breaking as he fought the shame flushing his face, the wetness in his eyes.
He didn't count how many swats he received. Only his pride kept him from calling out, begging forgiveness. Elizabeth shifted lower, swatting the backs of his thighs, then back up, enflaming his entire backside. Finally, when he thought he could take it no longer, she stopped.
Her hand dropped to his ass, rubbing lightly, almost tender as she stroked the red flesh, tracing the welts her palm had left. Elizabeth's voice was raw as she ordered, "Get dressed and go back to your room."
Silently he shifted off her lap, his legs nearly giving under the strain and numbness, and scraped his boxers up over his ass. He headed for the door, scrubbing viciously at his face, his red rimmed eyes, and reached for the panel. His hand faltered of its own accord. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to reach up again, and again his hand dropped. His body heavy, he leaned against the door.
"John?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered brokenly.
She stepped behind him, her hand on his shoulder. "Talk to me."
"It's not fair," he whispered harshly.
"What?"
"They get to walk around, and be open, and no one cares… they get to live together…"
It took a minute to work out, but finally Elizabeth understood. Understanding broke her heart. "Carson and Rodney," she whispered. "You're jealous."
"I guess so," John sighed painfully, finally naming the noise and emotion that had been running through him since the night before, and if he was honest, long before that. "I just… I can't even take care of you without people talking."
"So turning off my alarm this morning, canceling my meetings…?"
"I don't know, Elizabeth… I think I just wanted to show I had some piece of you…"
"Oh, John." She felt her chest constrict as she reached out for him, turning him away from the door. "What do you want?" She asked quietly. "More people know about us now than is really safe. If the SGC or IOA find out you know we won't be able to stay on Atlantis."
"I know," he said miserably. "But hiding all the time - doesn't it bother you?"
"Of course it bothers me, but what's the alternative? Losing our home?" That thought was as frightening to him as losing Elizabeth. "You think it doesn't bother me when women stare at you or flirt with you? Every new female recruit from Earth looks at you like some sort of Holy Grail. You think I don't want to scratch their eyes out for even thinking about you?"
Memories flashed through his mind - a dark club, an over eager blonde and the possessive streak Elizabeth usually kept well hidden raging into the open. Even now his blood surged as he pictured the look on her face that night. The protective, almost predatory stance that called to him even now.
"There's no happy ending to this - not right now," she continued almost desperately. "If we come forward we risk losing each other, losing Atlantis - is that what you want?"
"No."
"Then our only choice is to remain quiet and trust our friends." He nodded silently. She reached out, taking his hands in her own. "If you felt like this, why didn't you talk to me sooner? Why did you have to push so hard?"
"I don't know - I just…" he faltered. "It's hard to admit- "
She had understood for so long that he was a man of action and not words, but it was moment like this when that division became crystal clear. And recognizing that now she let her actions speak more than her words. "Come to bed."
"But I thought - "
She tugged his hands, drawing him closer. "Come to bed," she repeated.
With bone deep relief he did as she asked, following silently to bed.
*
A lifetime of rising with, and often before, the dawn had ingrained in Teyla a type of inner time piece that made it damn difficult to sleep in. Still exhausted and half-asleep, she trudged down to the practice room, hoping to get a few minutes of peace and quiet to meditate before the rest of the city sprang into life.
She had just settled onto the mat, her legs folded in repose, when the gym door slid open.
"Thought I might find you here."
Teyla sighed in barely concealed annoyance. "I believe this is known as 'stalking' on Earth, Ronon." She'd gotten familiar with the term after a well-meaning, but over-zealous scientist had started showing up wherever she went and Sheppard had taken notice.
"So?" He leaned against the wall, eyeing her casually.
She gave him a look of her own. "If you are going to be here, you are going to do something productive."
"You wanna spar?"
"I wish to meditate. You may join me, or you may leave."
Her tone made it obvious that he would lose any argument he chose to make. Pushing gracefully off the wall, he dropped into a cross-legged pose, mirroring her own. "So what do we do?"
"Close your eyes, clear your mind, focus on your body. Focus on each breath you take."
She closed her eyes, following her own instructions. Slowly, she felt her body relax, felt the lingering images of Michael and the feelings of terror that came with them recede back under her control. She let the oxygen fill her lungs as she breathed deeply. She let the sound of silence soothe her mind…
Ronon's heavy snore filled the room, jerking her out of her meditative state. Glaring, she shot a vicious look the Satedan's way only to feel it shift into an amused half-smile. Asleep he looked almost peaceful, all of the tightly coiled energy and possibility for violence concealed and contained in slumber.
She turned back around, closing her eyes once more as she attempted to meditate.
At least this way she knew he was getting some decent rest.
*
Grey light filtered into the room, harkening the dawn and yet another day in the Pegasus Galaxy. The nightstand started to chirp as Elizabeth's alarm broke the stillness of the morning. John groaned and burrowed closer under the covers.
"John?"
"I know, I know," he mumbled. "We have to get up."
She stretched underneath him and glanced at the still chirping alarm. "John?"
"Huh?" He opened his eyes, meeting her sleepy, hooded gaze.
"Turn off the alarm."
For once, he didn't need to be asked twice.
Finis.
Next: Free Falling