She's never heard of the Kardashians. "Twilight" jokes are lost on her. The first time she sees an iPhone, she assumes it's Ancient tech, and he has to turn aside to cover the way it knocks the breath out of him.
Elizabeth has been gone for almost eight years, and now that she's found them John's prepared to catch her up on all the important stuff she's missed, the births and marriages and divorces. But it's the small, stupid things, the things neither of them even cares about, that throw him for a loop. She missed so much. He missed so much. It's not a matter of catching up. They're strangers now.
He covers that sucker-punch of regret with a smirk and a crack about her lack of tech-savvy. They're having dinner in the mess hall. The stares of the marines prickle on the back of his neck, but no one comes over. He slides around to her side of the table, shoulder to shoulder, and shows her the games on his phone, bragging about his high scores.
"What's this one?" she points.
"That one, you play a space pilot, trying to fly through an asteroid field." He demonstrates, and immediately crashes three times. "You'd think I'd be better at this."
"I don't know. I'd say that's about par with your puddlejumper success rate," she says.
He pouts, and she laughs at him. He's eight years older, and the sound still goes through him like the first sip of whiskey.
"There's a multiplayer version in the rec room," he says. "Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Weir?"
He wishes he hadn't asked, because her smile fades. "I should go. It's getting late."
"Stay," he blurts. When her eyes fly to his, he stumbles on, "They've got those guest quarters for you. We should talk more about this treaty tomorrow."
She shakes her head. "I need to get back. My people will be worried." She stands and squares her leather jacket. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, though, Colonel."
Her people. Her small army of nanite hybrids and wraith orphans are becoming a major player in Pegasus. That's the reason she's allowed courtesies like her own visitors' quarters on Atlantis. Not because of who she used to be, but because the IOA wants to suck up to her like they would to any powerful alien leader.
Their walk back to the gate is slow. They don't talk about anything other than the terms of the trade between Atlantis and Elizabeth's people. She pauses outside the rec room. There's some reality show blaring out from the big screen TV.
"What are they watching?" she asks, leaning against the doorway.
"I have no idea."
She frowns. "Is that RuPaul?"
"Who?"
"At least I'm not totally out of touch." She smiles wryly and ducks her head. The TV throws flickering blue glints in her hair.
The young marines in the rec room would have been in about sixth grade back on Earth the first time John sat next to Elizabeth on one of those couches, watching her watch some dumb movie and wishing he could put his arm around her. How is it that everything has changed, but that's still all he wants?
She feels his gaze and turns her eyes to his. "John, don't look at me like that," she begs in a whisper.
"Elizabeth -"
She turns away, arms crossed tightly, and it's only then that he realizes he's reached for her.
They don't speak again until they reach the gate. "Thank you again, Colonel," she says, hands clasped in front of her. "It's been wonderful catching up. I look forward to finding ways we can work together."
"Me too. Governor Weir."
They shake hands, her palm warm against his, and then they dial the address she gave and she's gone.
Elizabeth has been gone for almost eight years, and now that she's found them John's prepared to catch her up on all the important stuff she's missed, the births and marriages and divorces. But it's the small, stupid things, the things neither of them even cares about, that throw him for a loop. She missed so much. He missed so much. It's not a matter of catching up. They're strangers now.
He covers that sucker-punch of regret with a smirk and a crack about her lack of tech-savvy. They're having dinner in the mess hall. The stares of the marines prickle on the back of his neck, but no one comes over. He slides around to her side of the table, shoulder to shoulder, and shows her the games on his phone, bragging about his high scores.
"What's this one?" she points.
"That one, you play a space pilot, trying to fly through an asteroid field." He demonstrates, and immediately crashes three times. "You'd think I'd be better at this."
"I don't know. I'd say that's about par with your puddlejumper success rate," she says.
He pouts, and she laughs at him. He's eight years older, and the sound still goes through him like the first sip of whiskey.
"There's a multiplayer version in the rec room," he says. "Wanna put your money where your mouth is, Weir?"
He wishes he hadn't asked, because her smile fades. "I should go. It's getting late."
"Stay," he blurts. When her eyes fly to his, he stumbles on, "They've got those guest quarters for you. We should talk more about this treaty tomorrow."
She shakes her head. "I need to get back. My people will be worried." She stands and squares her leather jacket. "Thank you very much for your hospitality, though, Colonel."
Her people. Her small army of nanite hybrids and wraith orphans are becoming a major player in Pegasus. That's the reason she's allowed courtesies like her own visitors' quarters on Atlantis. Not because of who she used to be, but because the IOA wants to suck up to her like they would to any powerful alien leader.
Their walk back to the gate is slow. They don't talk about anything other than the terms of the trade between Atlantis and Elizabeth's people. She pauses outside the rec room. There's some reality show blaring out from the big screen TV.
"What are they watching?" she asks, leaning against the doorway.
"I have no idea."
She frowns. "Is that RuPaul?"
"Who?"
"At least I'm not totally out of touch." She smiles wryly and ducks her head. The TV throws flickering blue glints in her hair.
The young marines in the rec room would have been in about sixth grade back on Earth the first time John sat next to Elizabeth on one of those couches, watching her watch some dumb movie and wishing he could put his arm around her. How is it that everything has changed, but that's still all he wants?
She feels his gaze and turns her eyes to his. "John, don't look at me like that," she begs in a whisper.
"Elizabeth -"
She turns away, arms crossed tightly, and it's only then that he realizes he's reached for her.
They don't speak again until they reach the gate. "Thank you again, Colonel," she says, hands clasped in front of her. "It's been wonderful catching up. I look forward to finding ways we can work together."
"Me too. Governor Weir."
They shake hands, her palm warm against his, and then they dial the address she gave and she's gone.
...
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