FF: Learning to Fly - The Life She Planned 1/2 PG (SGA)
Title: The Life She Planned
Author: Manda
Show: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: Sheppard/Weir
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Intruder
Warnings: This is generally BDSM/Femdom. If this squicks or offends, please don’t read.
A/N: Okay - here’s the next installment of my Sparky fic. No smut in this one, just plenty of plot to set up the smut to come. (Seriously, no pun intended - I’m not even that juvenile)
Summary: We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
*
The champagne sparkled in her glass. It was a luxury, and under other circumstances, one she would have shunned due to the tax payer cost, but tonight she was simply going to drink and be merry.
Tomorrow, they left for Atlantis.
It had been too long since she'd been in a dress - discounting of course her failed dinner attempt with Simon - and so she had taken the opportunity to splurge, as women were wont to do occasionally. Nylons, heels, and a little black dress that put the title to shame. She was wearing make-up, honest to god mascara and lipstick, not just the functional lip balm she carried with her at all times. Her hair had been trimmed and highlighted, just enough to freshen it up since she'd decided to let it grow out some.
If Rodney's reaction (dropping the crab puff he had halfway to his mouth) had been any indication, then she didn't look half bad. Elizabeth took a deep breath, then took a deep drink of champagne, wondering just how long she had to stay at the party to feign civility.
"Evening Elizabeth."
She smiled at the sound of a familiar Scottish brogue behind her. "Hello Carson."
The chief surgeon smiled and gave her a blatant once over. "My don't you look lovely."
"Not so bad yourself." The white lab coat and Atlantis uniform he regularly wore had been traded in for a coal black suit and blue shirt. He didn't wear a tie, but compared to some of the rather frumpy looking scientists congregated around them in tweed and polyester, he looked like a supermodel.
"I think the idea that I'd be spending the next long while in that uniform had me overcompensating a bit tonight."
Elizabeth laughed and took a sip of champagne. "You're not the only one." Her eyes drifted over to where Rodney, dressed in a rather well fitting sport coat and slacks himself, was gesturing wildly to a group of rapt scientists as he explained something. "Sometimes he's just... adorable."
"Aye, that he is."
Where Elizabeth's tone had been amused, almost motherly, Caron's had slipped subtly lower. Elizabeth eyed him casually, but Carson didn't seem to notice, his gaze still on the wildly gesticulating scientist. Elizabeth cleared her throat softly, breaking Carson's stare. Embarrassed, Beckett attempted to change subjects as quickly as possible. "So, uh, it was nice of the IOA to throw this little get-together before we left. A lovely little send off."
"I think they thought it was the least they could do considering everyone here signed on willingly to enter a galaxy with life-sucking aliens."
"Tell me about it. I almost didn't sign up again myself. If I'd'a known before what I know now..."
"You wouldn't have believed it then. I hardly believe it now," she mused.
"It'll make one hell of a story for our grandchildren."
Elizabeth's eyes drifted across the room, filled to the brim of people, her people, ready to take on the unknown once more. "One hell of a story indeed."
*
Two weeks earlier…
President Henry Hayes poured himself another scotch. It was only one in the afternoon, and it was a weekday, but at that moment, he really didn't care.
"So... that's the whole story, huh?" He took a drink, and then poured a fresh glass for his companion. Elizabeth Weir smiled and took it gratefully. It was her third, but at that moment, she really didn't care.
She’d practically stepped straight from the Stargate onto a plane bound for Washington D.C. where the President had personally cleared a block of time from his schedule to hear her report. Together, they had spent the better part of the morning locked away in Hayes' personal study as Elizabeth related the events that had transpired since her team's departure for the Pegasus Galaxy.
Most of the information he already knew, but Hayes had wanted to hear it again, from her mouth. Wanted to see her eyes when she told him about walking through the Gate; discovering the lost city; fighting for their lives against the Genii and the Wraith. Henry Hayes was a man who loved a story, and it just didn't get any better than this.
Halfway through Elizabeth's rendition he had seen the toll the months of stress had taken, especially when she started talking about the lives that had been lost. That's when he'd pulled out the scotch. It had flowed steadily since then and he had to give the doctor credit - she drank like a pro, or more aptly, like a politician.
"That's the whole story Mr. President," Elizabeth lied, picturing John's face, his body, the night before. There were some things no one was going to hear about. Her desperation the previous night being top on that list, with her mostly unethical sexual relationship with a subordinate coming a close second. Thankfully the flush from the scotch hid the heat that rose on her face from the memory.
Hayes let out a low whistle and settled back into his chair across from her. "Life-sucking aliens. Hmph. And I thought the Goa’uld were bad.” He clucked his tongue derisively. “So, how soon can you have the new personnel ready to go back?"
"Excuse me?" Elizabeth blinked several times. It could have been the scotch, but she was pretty sure he had just said...
"When will you be ready to go back?"
"You're not firing me?"
There was a moment of dead silence as Hayes regarded her seriously before the President broke into riotous laughter. "Why the hell would I fire you?"
"I just thought... with everything that happened..." She had a list, an entire list of reasons why she should be fired. She could recite every one, but Hayes didn’t seem to care.
"Elizabeth - after what you just told me, I can't imagine anyone else who could have handled what the universe threw at you. And I certainly can't imagine anyone more qualified than you to go back and continue to lead the expedition. The ingenuity, courage, and strength your team showed during the attack on Atlantis is a direct reflection of your leadership. You’re as much a hero as this Major Sheppard you keep telling me about, and you have my full and complete support. "
"Mr. President, I don't know what to say..." Elizabeth stumbled. This conversation was definitely not going where she had expected it to. She had expected to be fired, or at the very least sent back only in an advisory capacity. There’d been too many lives lost, too many near misses.
"Look - can you imagine if someone had replaced George Hammond or Jack O'Neill eight years ago when the Stargate program was first starting? We'd all be speaking Goa’uld right now. I'm certainly not going to make that mistake here with you. And if anyone else starts giving you trouble, you just make sure to mention my name a few times."
She had planned on taking her what was meted out for her and being grateful she’d made it back in one piece, even if her career was over. She never considered this might be how things turned out.
Because there didn't seem like anything else left to say, Elizabeth downed the rest of her scotch. "Thank you, sir."
"No, Dr. Weir, thank you."
*
"Dr. Weir? Dr. Weir?"
Elizabeth blinked, clearing the memory from her mind, and plastered on a smile. She took in the large glasses, the receding hair line, and plaid tie in a glance, trying desperately to place the name. Scientist... specialist in immunology... went to Berkeley... "Yes, Dr. Monroe, isn't it?"
The doctor beamed, clearly pleased to be remembered by the expedition leader. "Yes, that's right. I just wanted to thank you again for choosing me for this mission. I can't tell you what it means to me. This is the opportunity of a life time."
Elizabeth's smile was even more forced as she responded, "Yes, it is, isn't it."
"I was so shocked when I got the call from Dr. Beckett saying you’d had a last minute opening. And then when he explained where we were going, what we we’re going to do, well… I'd hate to be one of the guys still on the waiting list! But then again, I guess since they don't know exactly what they're missing out on, they can't be too upset."
Elizabeth smiled pleasantly, but didn't answer.
She could still see Simon chopping vegetables in the kitchen, their kitchen, asking for more time. Could still feel the burn of the candle she'd pressed out between her fingers when he'd told her he wasn't going. That he'd found someone new. Suffice it to say, nothing about her trip back to Earth had gone as she'd thought it would.
Dr. Monroe shifted awkwardly as her silence stretched on. "So, uh, I was gonna go get another drink..." He glanced at her newly filled glass of champagne and gave up the pretense altogether. "Excuse me."
Elizabeth let out a sigh and made a mental note to seek the doctor out sometime later - much later - and make amends. They were coming back with more people, but not so many she could afford to isolate anyone. Suddenly, she was wishing for something harder than the bubbly champagne in her glass. Unfortunately, the rather large bottle of Grey Goose she'd purchased to take back with her was already carefully wrapped and stowed on the Daedalus.
"Thinking up a way to tunnel out of here?"
Elizabeth laughed softly at Rodney’s spot on assessment. “Trying to decide just how much trouble I’d be in for pulling a fire alarm and putting this party out of its misery.”
“They’d probably give you a medal,” McKay mumbled around a mouthful of food. Amused, Elizabeth reached over to brush the trail of crumbs that had collected on his lapel. “Seriously - terrible DJ, bad lighting, and the convention hall of the Colorado Springs Ramada Inn? We’re leaving to face certain death once more in a galaxy far, far away. The least the IOA could have done was spring for some decent egg rolls.”
“You seem to be enjoying the crab puffs well enough.”
“A lone, shinning beacon in the pathetic excuse for a buffet we’ve been served.”
Rodney’s tone was so sincere, his face so serious, Elizabeth couldn’t help the rush of laughter that rose from her chest. “You know, if the whole astrophysicist thing doesn’t work out, I can see a career for you as a food critic.”
Rodney cocked his head to the side, as if considering the idea, then burst out laughing as well.
Elizabeth downed the rest of her champagne, then set the empty glass on the nearest table. “Rodney, how would you like to dance?”
McKay looked around confused. “You mean, you and me?”
“Yes,” she answered patiently.
“Why?”
Elizabeth gave him an exasperated look. “Because I’m a woman, and you’re a man, and we’re both dressed up, at a party that has the possibility to be moderately enjoyable if we just give it a try.”
“Ok,” he said slowly, looking at her like she’d grown another head. “But I should warn you, I’m not very good.”
Elizabeth cast an expansive look around the room to the throng of people huddled by walls and the buffet. Only a few of the bravest were actually dancing, poorly, and those were mainly military personnel. “I think we’ll be fine.”
“Ok, but if I break your foot, you’re the one who gets to tell Sheppard.”
Because there was simply no good response to Rodney’s comment, Elizabeth nodded, and took the hand he offered as they walked onto the make-shift dance floor.
*
John edged around the food table, picking idly at the hors devours. An arm, clad in Air Force blue, cut across his reach and he turned to find General Landry smiling at him. "General."
"Colonel." Landry's tone was pleasant, but distant, and John wasn’t sure if it was because they just didn't know each other well enough, or if Landry had read his personnel file one too many times. God knew every other commanding officer he'd run across in the last few years had been decidedly icy with him right from the start. With one notable exception. "Are you enjoying the party?"
"Yes, sir, it was nice of the IOA to send us off like this."
"Yes, it was. Everything set for your departure tomorrow Colonel?"
"Yes, sir. Busses arrive here at the hotel at 0700 sharp. We'll depart at 0800 for the base. Daedalus is scheduled to leave at 1200."
"You anticipate any problems?"
John cast a speculative look around the room. More than one shy and staid scientist had gotten past their nerves, likely with the aid of the free alcohol, and had begun to dance. Badly. "Only with the hangovers."
Landry laughed for the first time. "I'm sure you'll be able to handle it." The general turned to go, but John called him back.
"Sir, I uh, I wanted to thank you again for the promotion." Landry raised an eyebrow, but John continued on before he could be interrupted. "I know I don't have the best record, and I've had my moments on Atlantis, but I do appreciate the support you're giving me in making me the military commander. I promise I won't let you down."
Landry looked utterly bemused. "Well, Colonel, I appreciate the sentiment, but unfortunately, it's a bit misplaced."
"Sir?"
"Colonel, if I'd had my way - hell, if the Joint Chiefs had had their way - Colonel Caldwell would have your job right now. You want to thank someone for your promotion, you should thank Dr. Weir."
"Dr. Weir?"
"That woman knows how to get what she wants. You should feel honored Colonel, she pulled out the big guns for you. Invoked the President's name a couple of times."
"I see," John mumbled.
Landry eyed Sheppard suspiciously. His first thought when Weir had insisted John be made military commander was that the two were doing it. Nothing since then had dissuaded him from that assumption. Until now.
John looked so lost, utterly confused as to why Weir would insist on his promotion, that Landry had to question his original take on the situation. Sheppard certainly didn't seem like the type that took hand outs or liked nepotism in any form, and he certainly wasn't acting like a man who felt entitled to the silver oak leafs on his shoulder for services rendered. Perhaps he'd been wrong after all.
"Good luck Colonel."
"Thank you, sir," John answered slowly, still obviously confused.
So that was it. That was the answer he'd been wracking his brain for for two weeks - ever since he'd gotten the incredibly surprising news that not only was he going back to Atlantis, but he was going back as Lt. Col. John Sheppard - military commander. Now he finally knew why: Elizabeth Weir.
He'd assumed, of course, that she'd been in on the decision, but not that she'd made the decision, or, more accurately, strong-armed the decision.
Part of him burned, angry beyond belief that she had stepped in, gotten him a promotion that no one else thought he deserved. But the other part of him could still picture the look on her face when Landry had pinned on the silver oak leafs during the small ceremony that had been held, the immense look of pride that he had practically felt even across the room. It was pure dichotomy, and he had no idea what to do about it.
One thing was for certain - she would never admit it. Not in a million years. And that little piece of knowledge made the decision for him. There was no point in being angry when Elizabeth would never acknowledge what had happened. And there was no point in thanking her for something she'd never admit to. His only choice was to let it go and hope some day she'd finally tell him. Knowing Elizabeth, she’d take her own sweet time doing it.
John took a swig off his beer, then thinking better of it, drained the rest. His eyes scanned the crowd looking for her. Even with the mass of bodies he still found her almost immediately. She was a hard woman to miss, especially dressed the way she was.
It had taken just about all the control John had not to drop the beer he'd been holding when Elizabeth had walked in. He'd always found her beautiful, sexy, but seeing her like this had just about done him in. Naked she was gorgeous, but wrapped in satin and silk and dressed to the nines, he couldn’t find a word to adequately describe her. Now, dancing with Rodney - would wonders never cease? - he couldn't help the immediate bite of jealousy against the scientist currently leading her around the dance floor, or the one that would be accompanying her back.
Simon-Fucking-Wallace.
John had done everything in his power to ignore the fact Elizabeth would be bringing someone back with her. He'd also done everything he could to escape any mention of the man, which was why he had kept as far away from Weir as possible during their time on Earth and had almost entirely avoided the civilian crew selection process. The one glance at the man’s file John had forced himself to take had left him feeling woefully inadequate. Cultured, well educated; the type of guy who picked up War and Peace for a little light reading. He was everything John wasn’t.
"What has you so deep in thought then?" Carson asked as he bit into a crab puff. When John didn't respond immediately, Carson turned and followed his gaze through the crowd to where Rodney and Elizabeth were dancing. "Ah."
“’Ah,’ what?” John retorted with a scowl.
“Nothing,” Carson defended. “It’s just, well, you’re staring at her very hard for a man who’s kept to the other side of the room all night.”
John gave him a withering look, then changed course. "Wonder why she's dancing with Rodney," John said far too casually.
Carson eyed him curiously, but took the bait. "Why do you ask that?"
"Well, her boyfriend for one thing."
"She has a boyfriend?" Carson's tone was pure surprise and had John ratcheting his head around to stare at the doctor.
"You didn't know? He's going to be on your team."
"I don't have the faintest clue what you're talking about."
"Her boyfriend... Simon... he's a doctor..." John said slowly, as if Carson had suddenly gone stupid.
"Simon? Simon Wallace?"
"Yeah," Sheppard answered impatiently.
"He's not on the final list Colonel. He turned down the offer." Carson continued, clearly confused.
"He turned it down?" John's voice rose. Carson couldn't tell if it was from anger or surprise.
"Aye, he turned it down two days ago. Elizabeth had me keeping the position open for him, but she came in day before last and told me to choose one of the alternate's on the wait list... oh my..." Understanding dawned and the doctor felt an immediate pang of hurt for the Atlantis leader. Simon Wallace hadn't just turned down Atlantis, he'd turned her down as well. "What a bloody stupid bugger."
"You said it Doc."
"Poor lass."
John nodded, his jaw set. "Something tells me Elizabeth wouldn't want this particular piece of information getting around."
“No one will be hearing it from me,” Beckett vowed solemnly. He knew all too well how the rumor mill could function in the city and was in no rush to make anyone else grist for the machine. Least of all Elizabeth.
Both men watched her, laughing and dancing with Rodney, the picture of elegance. If John hadn’t known better, he would have thought she didn’t have a care in the world. It occurred to him then how much about Elizabeth he really didn’t know. How much he so desperately wanted to learn.
Now, because of one man’s stupidity, he might actually get the chance, if his own denseness didn’t screw it up too badly.
Part 2