Fic: Someday
Title: Someday
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Summary: Eight years later, they're not on the same side anymore.
Hello Sparktober! I haz not a tumblr but here is a little fic. It is something of a sequel to this wee comment thing ( part 1, part 2). This is very sappy angst.
"If you ever pull another stunt like that, you'll never see Atlantis again," he tells her.
John is in one of the tents Elizabeth's army travels in, the one that serves as her office. His posture is relaxed, but inside he's shaking with fury, and she can probably tell. He's not sure why they go with tents, given that so many of them are part machine, or where they get the soft, maroon fabric that seems to keep out the elements better than certain roofs he's known. There's a lot he doesn't know about these people, chiefly because their leader won't tell him.
She leans back against the heavy wooden desk (yes, an oak desk, in a tent - what is she, Napoleon?) and crosses her arms. "I don't like your tone, Colonel. And I certainly don't recall pulling any stunts you Lanteans need to concern yourselves with."
"Oh really? How about taking our supplies and then vanishing for three months?"
"We didn't take your supplies. You traded them to us."
"To an ally. Not a vanishing act."
"The Lantean State is not one of your lieutenants. We don't report to you."
"You don't think you owe us even a heads up?"
"If my people need to vanish, we'll vanish," Elizabeth snaps, "And everyone who doesn't like it can fend for themselves. Believe me, it can be done. And no, Colonel, I don't believe we owe Atlantis one goddamn thing."
The three marines behind him are shifting uneasily. Elizabeth's expressionless nanite guards haven't moved, but they somehow give the impression that they're on alert.
"Everyone out," John says.
"What -"
"Governor, you cannot allow -"
Elizabeth silences her people with a hand. "Give us the room, please."
Their two entourages file out. She turns away, fingering a corner of her desk. "You shouldn't have come here."
"I thought you were dead," he says. "Three damn months."
She won't look at him.
"You know I'm in love with you."
"Oh God, John, please don't."
"I'm sick of all this. I'm sick of fighting a war I'll never win, and losing friends, and all of it, and the only thing I want, the only thing, is to see you every day. So will you please come home?"
She smiles, her eyes glassy. "Atlantis isn't my home, John."
"Then I'll come here. I'll come to you."
His offer startles her, and for a second there's something in her face that makes his heart beat faster, but she recovers. "You don't mean that."
And the truth is, he doesn't, not yet, but the day is fast coming when he will. "Say the word, and I'll start training my successor."
There are tears on her cheeks. She laughs and swipes at them. "Back on Atlantis I used to dream of you talking to me like this, when I'd fallen asleep reading romance novels."
He grins. "My dreams about you didn't involve much talking." Somehow they've drifted closer, and he reaches up and brushes a tear from her cheek.
"John," she whispers, and kisses him.
God. Yes. This. Finally.
But there are two halves of an uneasy alliance waiting outside, and reluctantly, they both pull back.
"Someday," he says, and though he knows she won't believe him, adds, "Someday soon."
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Summary: Eight years later, they're not on the same side anymore.
Hello Sparktober! I haz not a tumblr but here is a little fic. It is something of a sequel to this wee comment thing ( part 1, part 2). This is very sappy angst.
"If you ever pull another stunt like that, you'll never see Atlantis again," he tells her.
John is in one of the tents Elizabeth's army travels in, the one that serves as her office. His posture is relaxed, but inside he's shaking with fury, and she can probably tell. He's not sure why they go with tents, given that so many of them are part machine, or where they get the soft, maroon fabric that seems to keep out the elements better than certain roofs he's known. There's a lot he doesn't know about these people, chiefly because their leader won't tell him.
She leans back against the heavy wooden desk (yes, an oak desk, in a tent - what is she, Napoleon?) and crosses her arms. "I don't like your tone, Colonel. And I certainly don't recall pulling any stunts you Lanteans need to concern yourselves with."
"Oh really? How about taking our supplies and then vanishing for three months?"
"We didn't take your supplies. You traded them to us."
"To an ally. Not a vanishing act."
"The Lantean State is not one of your lieutenants. We don't report to you."
"You don't think you owe us even a heads up?"
"If my people need to vanish, we'll vanish," Elizabeth snaps, "And everyone who doesn't like it can fend for themselves. Believe me, it can be done. And no, Colonel, I don't believe we owe Atlantis one goddamn thing."
The three marines behind him are shifting uneasily. Elizabeth's expressionless nanite guards haven't moved, but they somehow give the impression that they're on alert.
"Everyone out," John says.
"What -"
"Governor, you cannot allow -"
Elizabeth silences her people with a hand. "Give us the room, please."
Their two entourages file out. She turns away, fingering a corner of her desk. "You shouldn't have come here."
"I thought you were dead," he says. "Three damn months."
She won't look at him.
"You know I'm in love with you."
"Oh God, John, please don't."
"I'm sick of all this. I'm sick of fighting a war I'll never win, and losing friends, and all of it, and the only thing I want, the only thing, is to see you every day. So will you please come home?"
She smiles, her eyes glassy. "Atlantis isn't my home, John."
"Then I'll come here. I'll come to you."
His offer startles her, and for a second there's something in her face that makes his heart beat faster, but she recovers. "You don't mean that."
And the truth is, he doesn't, not yet, but the day is fast coming when he will. "Say the word, and I'll start training my successor."
There are tears on her cheeks. She laughs and swipes at them. "Back on Atlantis I used to dream of you talking to me like this, when I'd fallen asleep reading romance novels."
He grins. "My dreams about you didn't involve much talking." Somehow they've drifted closer, and he reaches up and brushes a tear from her cheek.
"John," she whispers, and kisses him.
God. Yes. This. Finally.
But there are two halves of an uneasy alliance waiting outside, and reluctantly, they both pull back.
"Someday," he says, and though he knows she won't believe him, adds, "Someday soon."