fic: Shades of Life: Grey
TITLE: Shades of Life: Grey
AUTHOR: Shane Vansen
EMAIL: the_fourth_dimension@ hotmail.com
CATEGORY: Sheppard/Weir friendship/pre-relationship, h/c
SPOILERS: The Storm/The Eye, Conversion, Critical Mass, and there's a vague end-of-S2 tone to it. Probably fits post-Michael or as an Allies missing scene.
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: "When's the last time you slept?"
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Part one of stagesoflove challenge: 5 colours. Thanks to both elvinborn and quietlybemused for the beta.
John knocked on the door, rubbing the back of his neck idly while he waited for Elizabeth's permission to enter. The question he'd intended to ask faltered on his tongue as he got a good look at her; she was huddled against the headboard, her arms wrapped around her knees. "You look like hell," he greeted her instead.
A wry, if faint, smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Thanks," she said, amusement colouring her voice but not doing anything to erase her obvious exhaustion.
John made himself comfortable on the edge of her bed, abandoning his plan of discussing their next steps. "When's the last time you slept?"
The almost-smile returned for just a moment as her eyes shifted to the window. "I can't remember." She glanced back at him. "Probably means it's been too long, huh?"
The decisions she'd had to make recently were wearing her down, he could tell. In recent months, and especially after the incident with Caldwell and Kavanaugh, she'd been a lot quieter, more withdrawn. Little by little this place was chipping away at her, and it saddened John to see her idealism eroding.
As tired as she was, however, he knew this wasn't the time to offer platitudes. He already supported her decisions, already made sure she knew that he did. There wasn't anything more he could do to ease her conscience.
He could help her sleep, though - if only indirectly. "Have you talked to Beckett? Maybe he could prescribe something."
With a snort, she unwrapped one arm from around her legs and extended it towards him, a small pill bottle dangling from her fingers. John looked from the bottle to her face. "Have you taken any?"
She looked away again. "No."
"Why not?" he asked cautiously.
Bringing her arm back to its original position, she shrugged. John thought he understood anyway.
"They help," he offered. Elizabeth looked back up, eyes curious, and he answered her unspoken question. "After the storm," he admitted quietly. "And after the iratus bug thing." The first had eaten away at his conscience, for all the men he'd killed; the second had shaken him to the core, leaving him questioning everything about himself.
Elizabeth tilted her head, studying him, before nodding slowly. John stood, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder before heading for the door.
"John?" He paused, turning back to face her. "Thank you."
He nodded. "Sleep well, Elizabeth."
--end--
AUTHOR: Shane Vansen
EMAIL: the_fourth_dimension@ hotmail.com
CATEGORY: Sheppard/Weir friendship/pre-relationship, h/c
SPOILERS: The Storm/The Eye, Conversion, Critical Mass, and there's a vague end-of-S2 tone to it. Probably fits post-Michael or as an Allies missing scene.
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: "When's the last time you slept?"
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Part one of stagesoflove challenge: 5 colours. Thanks to both elvinborn and quietlybemused for the beta.
John knocked on the door, rubbing the back of his neck idly while he waited for Elizabeth's permission to enter. The question he'd intended to ask faltered on his tongue as he got a good look at her; she was huddled against the headboard, her arms wrapped around her knees. "You look like hell," he greeted her instead.
A wry, if faint, smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Thanks," she said, amusement colouring her voice but not doing anything to erase her obvious exhaustion.
John made himself comfortable on the edge of her bed, abandoning his plan of discussing their next steps. "When's the last time you slept?"
The almost-smile returned for just a moment as her eyes shifted to the window. "I can't remember." She glanced back at him. "Probably means it's been too long, huh?"
The decisions she'd had to make recently were wearing her down, he could tell. In recent months, and especially after the incident with Caldwell and Kavanaugh, she'd been a lot quieter, more withdrawn. Little by little this place was chipping away at her, and it saddened John to see her idealism eroding.
As tired as she was, however, he knew this wasn't the time to offer platitudes. He already supported her decisions, already made sure she knew that he did. There wasn't anything more he could do to ease her conscience.
He could help her sleep, though - if only indirectly. "Have you talked to Beckett? Maybe he could prescribe something."
With a snort, she unwrapped one arm from around her legs and extended it towards him, a small pill bottle dangling from her fingers. John looked from the bottle to her face. "Have you taken any?"
She looked away again. "No."
"Why not?" he asked cautiously.
Bringing her arm back to its original position, she shrugged. John thought he understood anyway.
"They help," he offered. Elizabeth looked back up, eyes curious, and he answered her unspoken question. "After the storm," he admitted quietly. "And after the iratus bug thing." The first had eaten away at his conscience, for all the men he'd killed; the second had shaken him to the core, leaving him questioning everything about himself.
Elizabeth tilted her head, studying him, before nodding slowly. John stood, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder before heading for the door.
"John?" He paused, turning back to face her. "Thank you."
He nodded. "Sleep well, Elizabeth."
--end--