"Home" tag - "Ghosts and Memories"
Title: Ghosts and Memories
Author: Me *grins and waves*
Rating/Pairing: G/None
Characters: Liz and John
Summary: A tag for "Home" in which really nothing much happens. It was written as a lead in for an AR-series of stories to be posted on Forsaken Atlantis in which the Atlantis expedition wasn't rescued by Earth at the end of Season One, but having since created Stargate Metaverse, which makes the former comm defunct, and having never really got into a rhythm with writing SGA fiction, I'm dubious that more will ever come of it. So, since on it's own it's not particular AU/AR, why not post it here? ;)
Ghosts and Memories
Entering the cafeteria, Elizabeth Weir catches sight of her military commander sitting at a table in a far corner, as far away anyone else as he can get while remaining in the room. Not that he would notice if anyone sat down nearby, she thought with a frown. John is clearly oblivious to the world around him, lost in his thoughts - or memories, perhaps. It’s an unusual state for the Major, even at home on Atlantis, and it spawns a tickle of concern in her stomach as she fills her tray.
None of them have really spoken much about the fabricated realities they’d experienced on M5S-224, but she knows John’s included dead people, and that troubles her. Elizabeth had built her own fabrication around home and the man she loved. John had been more aware in his ‘reality’. He’d had some control. So why would he choose to surround himself with the dead, she wonders pensively. Were there none but ghosts waiting for him back home? Stealing her resolve, Elizabeth decides it’s something she needs to know. And something he needs to talk about, she tells herself as she approaches his slumped figure.
“John,” she greets, hovering beside the table. When he gives no indication of noticing her presence, she repeats with increasing concern, “John?”
This time he starts slightly, before glancing up and acknowledging her with a quick nod. “Elizabeth,” he drawls, “Have a seat.”
Elizabeth smiles warmly as she sits, but her expression quickly shifts into worry as John’s attention seems to drift away again almost immediately. “John.”
It takes only once this time. His focus snapping back to her, he grins sheepishly and straightens up a bit in his chair.
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asks gingerly. It’s an innocent enough question, yet dangerous, as well, at least when directed at the man across from her. To most people, John Sheppard seems amiable and laid-back, but the real John seems to her more like a skittish rabbit, ready to withdraw into its hole if anyone draws to near.
“Sure,” John replies, shrugging casually. “At least according to Beckett, anyway. You?”
Elizabeth smiles, resisting the urge to fidget as his gaze fixes on her in that penetrating way of his - the one that makes her feel like he is reading her inside and out. At least he keeps to himself whatever it is he sees when he does that, she thinks, as aloud she replies, “I’m fine, too.”
An awkward silence follows, prompting Elizabeth to delve into her food stray. John watches her eat for minute or two, then drifts away back into his thoughts.
“John?” she prods. His gaze shifts up in response, and he smiles distractedly. “You sure you’re alright?
“Hm, yeah,” he replies absently, “just thinking.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth responds, jumping on the opening, but John’s focus has already returned inward. “John?”
“Yeah?” His gaze lifts, almost reluctantly.
“Thinking about…?” she prods.
“Oh,” John mumbles, seeming to suddenly realize she wants communication. “Yeah, um, I was just thinking about the self-destruct.”
Elizabeth brow furrows, as she curiously prods, “Oh?”
“Do you think it’s really necessary?” he asks.
There is an almost plaintive tone to the question that makes one of Elizabeth’s eyebrow want to rise, but she keeps her expression neutral as she replies, “You know as well as I, John, that we cannot allow the Wraith to take the city, should it come to that; we cannot allow them access to earth.”
John nodds affirmatively, even as he says, “But… What if this gate didn’t give them access to earth?” He pauses, then adds hopefully, “Would we really need to destroy the city then?”
The furrow in Elizabeth’s brow deepens, as she replies, “I suppose not.” She doesn’t really like the thought of leaving Atlantis in the hands of Wraith, whether or not it gains them access to Earth, but she wants to see where John is headed with this. “But this gate does give them access to…”
“Yes, yes,” John interrupts, and Elizabeth thinks with a tickle of amusement, that he’s been spending too much time with Rodney. “But if it didn’t…” he stops abruptly and sucks in a deep breath, during which Elizabeth would swear she can actually see his mind working behind his eyes, gathering his thoughts, strengthening his resolve. “Could we take it with us?”
Elizabeth frowned questioningly, feeling like she’d missed part of the conversation during his pause. “Take what with us?”
“The control crystal,” John explains. ‘The one that allows our gate to dial earth… Couldn’t we take it with us?” he asks again, his eyes lighting up. “Then there’s no risk to Earth and no need to destroy Atlantis.” He rubs his hands together and grins, clearly pleased with his deduction.
Elizabeth sighs. She hates to refute his plan, especially until she comprehends the sudden impetus for coming up with it. There is clearly something there, some flicker of careful guarded emotion in his eyes - hope, longing, need, she isn’t sure which; it is too mercurial for her to read. Still… “I don’t know, John…”
Anger flares up in his eyes. Cold and hard, it stops her short. She stares at his eyes, slightly stunned, as they bore into her until she can almost physically feel the hole they are burning through to her soul. But then, abruptly, he drops his gaze to his hands, which have balled into fists, and sucks in a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then releases it, his hands relaxing at the same moment.
“Look,” he says, lifting his gaze back up. The anger is gone, replaced by more mercury too fluid to read, but Elizabeth catches the frustration lacing his tone as he continues, “Atlantis is our home. We can’t destroy her, not if we don’t have to…” He pauses for another steadying breath as the frustration dips dangerously close to plaintive whining. When he starts again, his voice is steady, calm, the voice of the military commander she knows so well, and yet not at all. “As long as she’s still standing, there’s a chance we could take her back.”
Elizabeth nearly rolls her eyes at that.
“I know the odds wouldn’t be great,” John says in reply to her dubious expression, “but it would be something. Something that is better than nothing.” His gaze locks on her. “She’s my home, Elizabeth.”
His eyes are hard, again, but not cold. This time they are full of a passionate resolve that tell her they have to find a way, because John Sheppard never leaves anyone behind; he isn’t going to start with Atlantis.
“Alright,” she acquiesces. “We’ll find a way.”
The hardness melts from his eyes. “Okay,” he says with a nod and leans back languidly, the tension visibly draining from his body and seeming to take his energy with it, but his smile is vibrant.
She smiles back, more reserved at first, but then it grows to match his. They would find a way, she declares silently. They have to! Because Earth is just ghosts and memories; Atlantis is home.
The End (for now)
Author: Me *grins and waves*
Rating/Pairing: G/None
Characters: Liz and John
Summary: A tag for "Home" in which really nothing much happens. It was written as a lead in for an AR-series of stories to be posted on Forsaken Atlantis in which the Atlantis expedition wasn't rescued by Earth at the end of Season One, but having since created Stargate Metaverse, which makes the former comm defunct, and having never really got into a rhythm with writing SGA fiction, I'm dubious that more will ever come of it. So, since on it's own it's not particular AU/AR, why not post it here? ;)
Ghosts and Memories
Entering the cafeteria, Elizabeth Weir catches sight of her military commander sitting at a table in a far corner, as far away anyone else as he can get while remaining in the room. Not that he would notice if anyone sat down nearby, she thought with a frown. John is clearly oblivious to the world around him, lost in his thoughts - or memories, perhaps. It’s an unusual state for the Major, even at home on Atlantis, and it spawns a tickle of concern in her stomach as she fills her tray.
None of them have really spoken much about the fabricated realities they’d experienced on M5S-224, but she knows John’s included dead people, and that troubles her. Elizabeth had built her own fabrication around home and the man she loved. John had been more aware in his ‘reality’. He’d had some control. So why would he choose to surround himself with the dead, she wonders pensively. Were there none but ghosts waiting for him back home? Stealing her resolve, Elizabeth decides it’s something she needs to know. And something he needs to talk about, she tells herself as she approaches his slumped figure.
“John,” she greets, hovering beside the table. When he gives no indication of noticing her presence, she repeats with increasing concern, “John?”
This time he starts slightly, before glancing up and acknowledging her with a quick nod. “Elizabeth,” he drawls, “Have a seat.”
Elizabeth smiles warmly as she sits, but her expression quickly shifts into worry as John’s attention seems to drift away again almost immediately. “John.”
It takes only once this time. His focus snapping back to her, he grins sheepishly and straightens up a bit in his chair.
“Are you alright?” Elizabeth asks gingerly. It’s an innocent enough question, yet dangerous, as well, at least when directed at the man across from her. To most people, John Sheppard seems amiable and laid-back, but the real John seems to her more like a skittish rabbit, ready to withdraw into its hole if anyone draws to near.
“Sure,” John replies, shrugging casually. “At least according to Beckett, anyway. You?”
Elizabeth smiles, resisting the urge to fidget as his gaze fixes on her in that penetrating way of his - the one that makes her feel like he is reading her inside and out. At least he keeps to himself whatever it is he sees when he does that, she thinks, as aloud she replies, “I’m fine, too.”
An awkward silence follows, prompting Elizabeth to delve into her food stray. John watches her eat for minute or two, then drifts away back into his thoughts.
“John?” she prods. His gaze shifts up in response, and he smiles distractedly. “You sure you’re alright?
“Hm, yeah,” he replies absently, “just thinking.”
“Oh?” Elizabeth responds, jumping on the opening, but John’s focus has already returned inward. “John?”
“Yeah?” His gaze lifts, almost reluctantly.
“Thinking about…?” she prods.
“Oh,” John mumbles, seeming to suddenly realize she wants communication. “Yeah, um, I was just thinking about the self-destruct.”
Elizabeth brow furrows, as she curiously prods, “Oh?”
“Do you think it’s really necessary?” he asks.
There is an almost plaintive tone to the question that makes one of Elizabeth’s eyebrow want to rise, but she keeps her expression neutral as she replies, “You know as well as I, John, that we cannot allow the Wraith to take the city, should it come to that; we cannot allow them access to earth.”
John nodds affirmatively, even as he says, “But… What if this gate didn’t give them access to earth?” He pauses, then adds hopefully, “Would we really need to destroy the city then?”
The furrow in Elizabeth’s brow deepens, as she replies, “I suppose not.” She doesn’t really like the thought of leaving Atlantis in the hands of Wraith, whether or not it gains them access to Earth, but she wants to see where John is headed with this. “But this gate does give them access to…”
“Yes, yes,” John interrupts, and Elizabeth thinks with a tickle of amusement, that he’s been spending too much time with Rodney. “But if it didn’t…” he stops abruptly and sucks in a deep breath, during which Elizabeth would swear she can actually see his mind working behind his eyes, gathering his thoughts, strengthening his resolve. “Could we take it with us?”
Elizabeth frowned questioningly, feeling like she’d missed part of the conversation during his pause. “Take what with us?”
“The control crystal,” John explains. ‘The one that allows our gate to dial earth… Couldn’t we take it with us?” he asks again, his eyes lighting up. “Then there’s no risk to Earth and no need to destroy Atlantis.” He rubs his hands together and grins, clearly pleased with his deduction.
Elizabeth sighs. She hates to refute his plan, especially until she comprehends the sudden impetus for coming up with it. There is clearly something there, some flicker of careful guarded emotion in his eyes - hope, longing, need, she isn’t sure which; it is too mercurial for her to read. Still… “I don’t know, John…”
Anger flares up in his eyes. Cold and hard, it stops her short. She stares at his eyes, slightly stunned, as they bore into her until she can almost physically feel the hole they are burning through to her soul. But then, abruptly, he drops his gaze to his hands, which have balled into fists, and sucks in a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then releases it, his hands relaxing at the same moment.
“Look,” he says, lifting his gaze back up. The anger is gone, replaced by more mercury too fluid to read, but Elizabeth catches the frustration lacing his tone as he continues, “Atlantis is our home. We can’t destroy her, not if we don’t have to…” He pauses for another steadying breath as the frustration dips dangerously close to plaintive whining. When he starts again, his voice is steady, calm, the voice of the military commander she knows so well, and yet not at all. “As long as she’s still standing, there’s a chance we could take her back.”
Elizabeth nearly rolls her eyes at that.
“I know the odds wouldn’t be great,” John says in reply to her dubious expression, “but it would be something. Something that is better than nothing.” His gaze locks on her. “She’s my home, Elizabeth.”
His eyes are hard, again, but not cold. This time they are full of a passionate resolve that tell her they have to find a way, because John Sheppard never leaves anyone behind; he isn’t going to start with Atlantis.
“Alright,” she acquiesces. “We’ll find a way.”
The hardness melts from his eyes. “Okay,” he says with a nod and leans back languidly, the tension visibly draining from his body and seeming to take his energy with it, but his smile is vibrant.
She smiles back, more reserved at first, but then it grows to match his. They would find a way, she declares silently. They have to! Because Earth is just ghosts and memories; Atlantis is home.
The End (for now)