Fic: For the Rain (3/4)
Title: For the Rain (3/4)
Author: peanutbutterer
Rating: PG13
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Main characters: John, Elizabeth, Cameron, Sam, Jack
Genre: AU
Summary: Agent John Sheppard is about to get a new partner - a woman he never thought he’d see again.
A/N: Special thanks to IR for her cheerleading (and putting up with me throughout this process, omg) and to ed_84 for her fantastic artwork!
Part One
Part Two
--
“A bomb?”
Elizabeth nodded. “According to Agent Ford, the two sisters, Vela and Ara Queen, are working together on this.”
Sam frowned and waved a dismissive hand. “But they’ve barely bothered to speak to each other in years. The separate cells make a point of keeping their distance - their paths do not cross.”
“It seems as if they’ve found a common goal,” Cameron observed, fingers drumming on the glass of the conference room table.
“And that goal would be?” O’Neill asked Elizabeth.
She shook her head. “Agent Ford didn’t know. All he could tell me was that it involved mass destruction.”
“Estranged sisters finally come together to tear apart,” Cameron mused. “Kinda poetic.”
John snorted. “Except for the impending doom.”
“Except for that.”
“Well, they’re not entirely trusting,” Elizabeth explained, leaning forward in her chair and lacing her fingers together. “It seems the target is unknown to the separate cells. One Queen holds the longitude, the other holds the latitude and they have no intention of bringing them together before the scheduled time. This way neither has the ability to make a move without the other.”
“Huh?” Cameron frowned. “That makes no sense. How is that even possible?”
Sam’s eyes widened. “They’re not really queens.”
“Um, they are Queens.”
“No, I mean in the hive.”
“The club?”
“No,” she corrected, “I mean in the chain of command. Someone’s above them.” At his blank expression she continued with a sigh, “It’s a metaphor, Cam.”
Elizabeth nodded. “There’s a third party.”
“Who?”
Sam glared at him in exasperation. “If we knew that we wouldn’t be doing this.”
John leaned back and looked briefly to the ceiling, trying to get back on track. “So in order to break up this party they have planned, we’ll need to gather the pieces.”
“That sounds about right.” O’Neill pushed his chair from the table and stood. “Get it done.”
“Sir, if I may,” Elizabeth spoke up. When O’Neill paused she continued, “I don’t know how reliable this intel is.”
John shot her a quick look of surprise. “You’re questioning Agent Ford?”
She hesitated, noting the tension in the room at her implication. “I know I have no history with him, but there was something about the way he handled himself that caused me concern,” she said carefully.
After a stretch of uncomfortable silence, O’Neill was finally the one to speak. “Well, until we have something better to go on, this is it.” His eyes darted from Elizabeth to the rest of his agents. “But be careful.”
--
“Cynthia Parker, Alterra Corporation,” Elizabeth introduced primly, adjusting her black-rimmed glasses and leaning over the table to scan the row of name tags.
“Here you are.” The buxom blonde in the folding chair rose and selected the correct tag, handing it to Elizabeth. “Enjoy the conference.”
“Oh I will,” she assured her with a bright smile. She pinned her alias on the lapel of her charcoal jacket and tugged at the hem of her matching skirt before smoothing a wisp of hair back into her bun. “Wormhole physics has always been one of the more intriguing theoretical sciences. I’ve been looking forward to this for months.”
“It’s true,” John confirmed, tucking his hands neatly into the pockets of his slacks and rocking ever so slightly on his heels, “she just won’t stop talking about it.” He smiled a goofy smile and stuck out his hand. “Tyler Price, Alterra Corp.”
“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Price,” the blonde cooed, blinking up at him and accepting his outstretched hand.
“Please, call me Tyler.” John ducked his head bashfully and let his hand linger in her grasp. “And the pleasure is most definitely mine.”
“So, Tyler,” she fluttered, drawing out his name as she stepped around the table to perch lightly on its edge and lean into his personal space, “what is it you do at Alterra Corp?”
“He’s my assistant,” Elizabeth supplied. She reached across the table and snatched John’s name tag. “Ready?” she asked brightly, thrusting it into John’s chest.
He shot a remorseful look at the blonde and shrugged his shoulders helplessly before accepting it. “As I’ll ever be, boss.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth called over her shoulder, tugging John down the hall. After a quick scan of her surroundings she tilted her head slightly and pressed her earpiece. “We’re in.”
Copy that, Sam answered, we see you.
Sam and Cameron, dressed in dark blue coveralls, appeared in the hallway near the end of the corridor. Cameron pulled out a large ring of keys and rifled through them before selecting one. With a brief nod to Sam, he unlocked a side door and they slipped quickly inside.
We’re in the maintenance corridor. We should reach the panel in one minute.
Elizabeth and John continued down the hall, the click of her narrow heels echoing loudly as they made their way past the doorway where Sam and Cameron had disappeared. Stopping in front of the elevator, Elizabeth leaned forward to press the up arrow before clasping her hands in front of her and settling in to wait. Beside her, John craned his head to the side and pawed uncomfortably at his smoothed hair. He scrutinized himself in the hallway mirror.
Elizabeth sighed. “You look fine,” she assured him.
John dropped his hand to his side, but his tone bordered on whiny. “I haven’t combed my hair down like this since I was three.”
She took a moment to consider him as the doors slid open. “It does make you look nerdy,” she acknowledged, the corner of her mouth quirking into a grin as she stepped inside and selected their destination.
Next time you can be the electrician, Bo, Cameron offered as the doors closed. I can do all the heroic stuff and you can keep your hair as spiky as you want.
“I don’t know,” John said thoughtfully, “you look so cute in coveralls.”
You’re not fooling anyone. We know you hate that you can’t see my ass in these things.
Elizabeth cut off any further retort. “How’s the feed?” she asked.
Almost done, Sam answered. We’ve overridden the elevator lock and can get you access to the floor. Our current loop should be able to buy you about six minutes to get in and out. You’ve got one secretary at the reception desk and a few neighboring associates in their offices.
“Only six minutes, John,” Elizabeth warned. “That means you’ll have to cut back on the flirting. You’ll just have to ask for her number without the subtle innuendos and charming lead-in.”
“I do like a challenge.”
The door opened with a ding and they stepped out into a reception area. The girl at the desk frowned. “Excuse me,” she said, pulling herself to her feet, “this floor is restricted access. You’re not allowed here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth said innocently, “we must have hit the wrong button.” She looked around the foyer. “This isn’t the way to the lecture hall?”
The secretary shook her head. “You need to be on the twentieth floor. This level is locked. How did you get here?”
“Magic fingers?” John guessed.
The woman visibly swallowed. “I’m sorry?”
“He does have a way with his hands,” Elizabeth confirmed.
John stepped up close to the desk and flashed a roguish grin. “Would you like me to demonstrate?” He dropped his hand onto the secretary’s and the woman’s eyes rolled back in her head. Elizabeth was behind her before she lost consciousness, catching the limp body and easing the woman gently into the chair.
John peeled the latex skin from his index finger, careful not to touch the exposed surface, and slipped it into his pocket. As Elizabeth typed on the keyboard, John leaned over the desk and plucked the girl’s badge off her lapel. “Meghan O’Riley,” he read aloud.
“Needs access to room 2418,” Elizabeth added.
Give me one second - done.
Elizabeth led the way down the corridor, John close on her heels. When they reached their destination he waved Meghan’s badge over the magnetic lock. The door clicked open.
The office was standard: a large wooden desk with a computer, a set of grey armchairs, one unnaturally green plastic plant, and a garish excuse for art hanging prominently on an otherwise bare wall.
Elizabeth slid into the high-backed chair behind the desk and clicked at the keyboard. A password prompt appeared on the screen. She removed her glasses, flipped the small switch on the earpiece and set them on top of the tower.
“So which do you think we’re more likely to use - the tear gas disguised as breath spray or the demagnetizing penny?” Elizabeth asked as the glasses whirred softly and John surveyed the room.
“You’re mocking McKay,” he said, checking behind the painting. “You realize, of course, I’m going to have to tell him.”
“I’m not mocking, I’m just... impressed at his preparedness.”
“No cool tech east of the Rockies?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Oh, you know. Cups and string.” The glasses beeped and she slipped them back on. A nine-digit number appeared at the bottom of the lens and she typed it into the computer. The moment she struck the final key the screen changed.
“Damn it.”
John, standing near the door to listen for movement, looked over his shoulder at her outburst. “What?” He crossed back to the desk. “Shit,” he cursed the moment he saw the screen. “How long do we have?”
“I’d guess no more than sixty seconds,” she answered, typing furiously on the keyboard.
Beside her, John leaned in closer. “Shit,” he repeated.
Elizabeth continued to work as time ticked away.
“Damn it, Elizabeth, figure it out.”
“I’m trying.”
Sam’s voice came over the comm. They’re going to realize we’ve looped the feed any minute now. You need to get out of there.
John hovered over her shoulder. “Do you want me to do it?”
She spared him a glance. “No.”
“I’m better at math than you.”
“You are not,” she defended.
“Sure I am. What’s seven factorial?”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed but she didn’t turn from the monitor.
“Five thousand forty,” John answered.
“That’s not fair,” she insisted. “You answered your own question.”
“That’s basic. You should have that memorized.”
Um, guys? How about you have this conversation after you get out of there.
Elizabeth hit the enter key. “Got it,” she said triumphantly.
John pulled a disc out of his pocket and slipped it into the drive. The moment the information began to transfer an alarm sounded.
“Fantastic,” John hissed. “Now we’re going to need an alternate exit strategy.” He dragged a file cabinet from the corner of the room and shoved it against the door.
You’ve got four armed guards on their way down the hall, two in the elevator. More mobilizing on the top floor. I’d give the first set about forty seconds until they’re on top of you.
The data finished copying and Elizabeth ejected the disc and slipped it into her pocket. “Done.” She watched as John wrapped his hands around the back of one of the visitor’s chairs. “Twenty four stories?” she asked in disbelief. She’d jumped a few times, but this high was just suicide. “You have a rope in that suit, Batman?”
“Maybe. I haven’t checked.” The chair slammed through the window on his third try, dusting the room in shattered glass. “But I did notice a molding running the length of the building,” he continued, knocking out the remaining fragments so that they could clear the frame. “Come on.”
She stepped tentatively past him, bracing herself against him as she found her footing on the ledge. “Four inches wide,” she said while balancing herself, “not even a challenge.”
John rolled his eyes and followed her as they shimmied along the ledge and made their way to the end of the building. When they came to the corner staircase John reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pen. “I bet now you wish you hadn’t mocked McKay,” he said as he turned the laser on and began to cut a large circle into the panel. “You’d better thank him for this.”
“Mostly I’m thankful for glass-walled stairwells.”
John finished the circle and pushed, causing the section to crash to the floor below. He went through first before offering Elizabeth his hand. She took it, following him through and landing with a crunch. They began a hurried descent down the stairs.
“Why can’t the bad guys work on the second story?” he asked breathlessly.
“This is good for you. Gets your heart rate going.”
“I think the alarms are enough to get my heart rate going. This just makes my calves hurt.”
When they finally reached the ground floor, they barreled through the emergency exit and into the street. Sam and Cameron were waiting in the idling van.
They jumped in and slammed the doors behind them. As Cameron peeled out onto the street, Sam swiveled in her seat to look at Elizabeth. “You did that in heels?” she asked with a hint of awe. “That’s classy.”
--
John swayed slightly to the music, hands slipping down the silk of Elizabeth’s long red dress. Her hair was spilling in tousled curls from a large clip, leaving her shoulders bare in the soft light of the chandelier. A string quartet played an unfamiliar melody and the richest of the rich, Seattle’s high society, mingled around them in tuxedos and gowns. John’s eyes followed Cameron as he wove through the crowd, drink tray held aloft. Dressed as a waiter, Cameron collected a pair of empty champagne flutes and slipped out of the room.
Got it, he told them.
Elizabeth and John broke apart, his hand brushing lightly down the side of her arm before finding the small of her back as he escorted her from the dance floor.
“Champagne, sir?” Cameron asked when they came upon him in the outer foyer.
John nodded and selected the closest glass. “Thank you.”
“And the lady?”
Elizabeth nodded and grabbed the stem of the remaining flute, her free hand toying with the large red gem that dangled from her neck.
“There’s a beautiful view from the balcony upstairs,” Cameron said with a smile. “Quite a night for stars.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll have to have a look for ourselves.”
Cameron bowed slightly and disappeared back into the party.
John followed Elizabeth up the central staircase, past the balcony and down a long hallway. When they were out of sight of the main thoroughfare, he stopped and placed his champagne on a hall table. Elizabeth peeled a thin layer of latex from the bowl of her flute and handed it to John before discarding the glass.
He nodded and they moved deeper into the hallway, rounded two corners and were approaching their next turn when Sam’s voice sounded in his ear. Two guards coming from the west.
John looked at Elizabeth worriedly, but she pointed him to a nearby door. He opened it and slipped into what appeared to be a small closet. When he started to make room for her, Elizabeth shook her head indicating that John should shut himself inside. A moment later, the guards turned the corner into the hallway.
John watched through the crack he maintained in the door as Elizabeth clutched her stomach and doubled over as if in pain. When the guards reached her she let out a low moan.
“Guests aren’t allowed here, ma’am,” the guard said gruffly. “You need to go back downstairs.”
She started to stand up, but then stumbled a little and fell forward toward the nearest guard. “I think I’m going to... oh, god, I’m going to be sick.”
“Come on, lets go,” the bigger guard instructed. He put a hand under her arm and turned her back toward the exit and out of John’s line of sight. “No, no, this way.” There was another moan from Elizabeth. “No - oh, Jesus - over here.”
When the sound of the three making their way down the hall had faded John peeked out from his hiding place.
You’re clear, Bo, Sam informed him.
He didn’t waste time getting to the study. Once there, he took the latex Elizabeth had given him and raised it to the light, locating the print. He then smoothed it over the electronic pad beside the door and pressed down with his thumb. The red light on the side of the device blinked out and a green light illuminated. John eased the door open and slipped inside.
It didn’t take him long to find the safe - they were always behind the paintings with hinges. He swung the canvas away and reached into his pocket, pulling out the small black box that Rodney had given him. John stuck the magnetized side against the metal door of the safe and pressed the button to activate it, watching as the digital numbers began to cycle. As the sixth digit flashed into place, the study door opened.
John drew his gun and spun around to find Elizabeth with her hands raised.
“It’s just me,” she said, walking toward him and slowly lowering her hands to her sides.
He slipped his gun back into its holster. “I thought you were watching the goons.”
“I got bored.” She jerked her thumb in the general direction of the hallway. “They’re unconscious in the closet.”
John shook his head and returned his attention to the safe. “Almost done.”
When Rodney’s device entered the eleventh digit, the lock clicked. John opened the safe and sifted through the contents - passports, wads of bills, envelopes, jewelry. He located the flash drive and grabbed it, swapping it out with a fake from his pocket. “Let’s go.”
As they exited the office John removed the latex from the pad before leading Elizabeth toward the staircase.
One guard around the next corner, Sam informed them. Ten seconds.
“Bogota?” Elizabeth asked with a grin.
Instead of answering, John snagged her by the wrist, snaked his free arm around her waist and backed her against the wall. He only had time to whisper, “Don’t slap me,” before pressing his lips to hers.
Of course, Sam said in their ears, the kissing couple diversion. How very James Bond.
You know, Penny, we don’t use that one as often as we should.
Spare me, Belle.
“Hey!” a suited man barked. “This area is off limits.”
John pulled slowly away from Elizabeth, taking only a moment note her bewildered expression before turning to face the guard. “Just looking for a little privacy.”
“Keep looking.”
He let a smile creep across his face and his eyes slipped guiltily to Elizabeth. “Couldn’t wait. Can you blame me?”
The guard jerked his head toward the exit. “Take it outside, man.”
John grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and dragged her toward the exit. “Now there’s an idea.”
--
“She was totally mocking it.”
Elizabeth shot him a withering glare and turned her focus to Rodney. “That is absolutely untrue. I was impressed. Really impressed.”
“Well, of course you were impressed,” Rodney said, still working intently on his calculations.
“That pen saved us,” she continued. John rolled his eyes and Elizabeth made sure Rodney wasn’t looking before sticking out her tongue. “And had it been night, the infrared contact lenses would have been invaluable.”
John pointed at her. “See! She’s doing it again!”
“I’m not doing anything! It was a compliment!”
“McKay, I think you should stop letting her use your tech.” When he didn’t respond, John prompted, “Rodney?”
“Uh oh.”
“What do you mean, ‘uh oh’?”
“What, you want a synonym? Not good. Oh darn. Dangnabit-”
“McKay.”
“I mean,” he pulled the flash drive out of his computer and tossed it on the desk, “that this is a problem.”
“How so?”
“I managed to decrypt the data you retrieved from the disc and this drive.” Rodney entered a few keystrokes and a satellite image of the Seattle area appeared. He gestured to the screen. “And I found the location of the bomb.”
John leaned forward to get a better look. “Uh oh.”
Elizabeth surveyed the image. She wasn’t very familiar with Seattle’s layout, but wasn’t that - “The airport?”
Rodney shook his head. “Maybe peripherally, but that’s not the main target.” He pointed to the map just south of SeaTac. “They’re going to hit the Federal Detention Center.”
--
Two hours later, John, Elizabeth, Sam and Cameron adjusted the last of their gear and quietly exited their van. Sam directed the infrared camera toward the building and checked her comm. “Rodney?”
We’re picking up four bodies inside.
“Not a lot of muscle for bomb-sitting duty,” Sam observed.
“You don’t know that,” Cameron countered. “McKay said nothing about the size of the muscle on the bodies. They could be four guys the size of the Hulk. Hell, one guy the size of the Hulk would be more muscle than all of us put together. I mean, I’m pretty well built, but Bo’s just plain scrawny.”
“I am not scrawny.”
Sam coughed to smother a laugh.
“I’m not!”
She grinned. “I wasn’t saying you were.”
John shook his head. “You spend too much time with Cam.” He checked his clip and slammed it home. “Let’s move out.”
--
“How are we doing?”
Rodney almost jumped from his chair when O’Neill spoke from directly behind him. He’d been listening to the team on the ground and hadn’t heard him come in. “Fine, sir. Just fine.”
O’Neill stepped closer until he was looming over Rodney and folded his arms over his chest. “Only four guys?”
“Could be four large guys.”
He just raised an eyebrow.
“Never mind.” Rodney took off his headset and hit a few keys. The audio from the comms began to pump through his desktop speakers.
They watched on the monitor as John and Elizabeth cautiously approached the targets from the north, and Sam and Cameron skirted the south corridor, making steady progress.
Team two in place, Sam advised.
John’s voice was a whisper. Team one is set.
O’Neill nodded and Rodney gave the authorization. “You have a go.”
The two men watched as, on his order, the teams entered the room and surrounded the guards.
Drop your weapons! I said drop your weapons! And step away! Now! Don’t touch-
Gunfire erupted a moment later. When it stopped, it was Elizabeth who spoke. We have them secured.
Rodney keyed his mic. “Great, now locate the bomb.”
We already did.
--
As Sam and Cameron bound the guards with quick-ties, John dropped to his knees near the large metal box. He removed a screwdriver from his vest went to work on the casing.
His hands were trembling slightly by the time he removed the final screw. Bombs were not high on his list of enjoyable activities - ranking somewhere between pinochle and being the target of a firing squad. As he lifted the lid and caught his first glimpse of the device, he heard Elizabeth let out a low whistle.
She touched her hand to her earpiece. “One of them activated the countdown before we could stop him. We now have three minutes, Rodney. Where are we in the evacuation?”
The FDC has successfully been evacuated and all flights to and from SeaTac have been suspended. All you have to do is disarm that bomb so we can avoid a nasty press conference. And, well, he added as an afterthought, so you don’t blow yourselves up.
“Your concern is truly heartwarming.”
You know how terrible press conferences are.
John sighed and turned to Cameron. “You all might as well get out of here. It doesn’t take four of us to hold a screwdriver.”
Cameron eyed him warily. “You want us out? What about you?”
“I’ll work better if it’s quiet in here.” He nodded to the tied-up guards. “No need for extra casualties.”
Cameron shifted uncomfortably and then cast a long look at Sam. She shook her head, but reached for the nearest guard. “Guess you get a pass today. Up!”
As Sam and Cameron shuffled the guards through the door, John looked at Elizabeth. “You too.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He was becoming more desperate as the clock continued to count down. “Look, stop arguing. I need you out of here. Now.”
“I’m not having this conversation again, John. If we’re partners, we’re partners. We stick together. You don’t do this alone.” She got down on her knees with him and peered at the device. “Now hand me those wire cutters.”
For the life of him, John had no idea how to handle this woman. Shaking his head, he passed her the cutters, muttering insufferable under his breath.
She looked up at him. “Oh, you’re only just beginning to know how stubborn I can be.” Pushing apart the wires, she pointed. “That looks like it could be the secondary trigger. And here,” she traced a long blue wire, “that could lead to the power source.”
John looked again at the ticking clock. Removing his gloves, he wiped his hands on his pants as he studied the tangle of brightly colored wires that spilled from the central panel. “So your vote is blue? I usually try to go for the green.”
“How should we decide; rock, paper, scissors?” He glared at her. “All right, all right; let’s go for your green.”
With painstakingly slow movements John separated the wires to isolate green while Elizabeth inserted the cutters. She looked up at him. “On three?” At his nod she began to count down. “One, two -” She cut the wire and the clock immediately went black.
“What the hell? I thought we were going on three?”
“I knew you’d flinch.”
“I’d flinch? Who’s the professional here? Who was it again that picked green and saved the day?”
Elizabeth paused a moment, examining the device more closely. “You might want to dial back the self-accolades, hotshot.” She drew her knife from her vest and wedged it into a small sliver in the cap they had assumed was the detonator. Levering the blade, she forced it open. “Looks like it wouldn’t have mattered. This isn’t anything more than an alarm clock and a bundle of wire.” She shook her head. “I knew it. I knew this was too easy.”
“Knew what?” John leaned in to get a closer look. “What are you talking about?”
Elizabeth tossed the cap onto the floor. “Ford. It must be a decoy.”
--
“Michael Kenmore,” O’Neill announced, the large screen behind him projecting the face of a man in his mid-thirties. “A known associate of Vela Queen, he was suspected of being her superior - possibly a leader of the entire Wraith organization. This was never substantiated. His laundry list of convictions includes assault, arson, and fraud. He is currently being held for trial on multiple counts of murder and kidnapping. Thanks to our phony bomb evacuation, Kenmore escaped federal custody.”
“Well, you’ve got to hand it to these Queen ladies,” Cameron said, tapping his pen on his chin. “That was a pretty solid plan.”
Sam sighed.
“What? I can’t give props to criminal masterminds?”
“It wasn’t them,” Elizabeth said, flipping though the file in front of her. “It was him. He was the third party. He set this whole thing up. He set us up.”
“Our priority now,” O’Neill continued, “is to find Kenmore and bring him back into custody.”
“What about Ford?” John asked, glancing briefly at Elizabeth. “Have we heard from him?”
“We’ve had no contact from Agent Ford since your meet. We’re operating under the assumption that he’s still too far in to make a safe drop.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “And what about the possibility that he’s in on this?”
“It’s something we’re going to have to consider.”
“So,” Cameron said, breaking the awkward silence that followed that revelation, “instead of bringing down the bad guy we actually released the bad guy - does that mean the barbeque is off?”
“Is Sheppard’s birthday still tomorrow?” O’Neill asked.
“I’d assume so, sir.”
“The cake has already been purchased?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then the barbeque is still on. We’ll have as many agents as possible attempting to locate Kenmore. When we spot him, we move.”
--
“So,” Teyla Emmagen began as she stepped into the kitchen, “I’ve been reading your mission reports.”
John didn’t turn around, instead continuing his search of the refrigerator. “Spy,” he accused.
“Occupational hazard,” she corrected.
He selected a beer and turned to Teyla. “Want one?” She nodded and he grabbed another before closing the door and stepping up to the counter. He opened the bottles and handed her one.
“You’re working surprisingly well with your new partner.”
John shrugged and took a pull of his beer.
“Considering,” she added and John flinched. At his reaction she smiled. “I thought it was her.”
John feigned confusion. “Her who?”
Teyla narrowed her gaze. “We worked together for how long? You can’t honestly believe you have secrets from me, John.”
He picked at the label of his bottle, refusing to meet her eyes. “Can’t a guy hope?”
“For as long as I’ve known you, John Sheppard, you have never been serious about a woman. There had to be a reason, and I now believe that she is it,” Teyla concluded. “She’s the one.”
John bristled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no ‘one.’”
“Mmm hmm.”
“You know how I told you I was disappointed you were promoted and couldn’t be my partner anymore?” he asked. When Teyla nodded he continued, “Well I lied.”
“I know.” She smiled. “‘Disappointed’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
John was about to respond when Elizabeth entered through the back door. Her eyes flitted between John and Teyla and she paused, clearly uncomfortable with the situation she found herself in. Finally, she lifted her hands, indicating the three empty beer bottles she was holding. “I drew the short straw.”
John ignored Teyla’s soft smile and focused his attention on Elizabeth. He waived a hand in Teyla’s direction. “Elizabeth, this is Teyla Emmagen, Regional Chief of International Operations and my former partner. Teyla, this is my temporary partner, Elizabeth Weir.”
“You’re alive,” Elizabeth said, shifting the bottles to one hand and extending the other.
Teyla raised her eyebrows as she shook Elizabeth’s hand. “Had you heard otherwise?”
Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “I just assumed no one survived being John’s partner.”
“It was a feat.” Teyla laughed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, finally.”
“Finally?”
John coughed into his hand and Teyla mercifully shifted her attention to the door. “Well, I believe I got what I came for,” she looked to John, and after watching him squirm for a moment indicated her beer. “I should get back and track down Rodney. Earlier he said something about flammable mascara. This, I have to see.”
She was out the back door before Elizabeth had a chance to respond.
John slumped onto a barstool and continued to pick at the label of his beer. “So,” he began.
“So,” Elizabeth echoed, crossing to the sink to deposit the bottles.
“You headed back to Chicago now?”
She paused and turned to face him. “Kenmore’s still at large.”
John shrugged. “Not really your problem.”
“I like to finish what I start.”
“Since when?” he blurted, feeling vulnerable and frustrated from his conversation with Teyla.
Elizabeth stepped toward him and braced her hands against the counter, looking at him calmly. “John,” she started slowly, “what is that supposed to mean? You’ve been acting like this since I first got here. What are you really talking about? I feel like I have a right to know at this point.”
John released a breath, noting that his arms had instinctively folded across his chest, protecting himself from her. Shaking his head he forced himself to focus, forced himself to really look at her, standing there in his kitchen, in his life - wavy brown hair, piercing green eyes - and he allowed himself to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Teyla was right.
“John?” she prompted.
He took a second to compose himself and finally voiced the thought that had been bothering him since the moment Jack O’Neill had first said her name. “You left.”
“Left?” Elizabeth was clearly confused. “The academy? I got assigned to the Midwest.”
“I’m not talking about the job, Elizabeth.”
She shook her head and her face melted into a rueful smile. “What did I leave? Us?” She pushed off the counter. “There was no ‘us’ John.”
“That’s not true,” he argued.
Her smile faded. “Don’t give me that. Both on the job and off - you didn’t need me. You didn’t care then; don’t insult me by pretending to care now.”
“You think I didn’t care?” She turned away and he stood, following her as she retreated to the far side of the room. “You were the one who wanted the relationship kept a secret. I didn’t meet your standards. I was never good enough for you.”
“It wasn’t a relationship,” she fired back, spinning to face him. “The fact that my involvement with you wasn’t public knowledge was for your benefit. And it worked out pretty nicely for you as I recall, so I don’t know why you’re so bitter about it.”
“Your ‘involvement’ with me? What -”
The patio door banged open. “Sorry to interrupt,” Cameron stepped into the kitchen, his eyes darting between the pair, “but you’re going to want to hear this.”
--
Part Four
Author: peanutbutterer
Rating: PG13
Pairing: John/Elizabeth
Main characters: John, Elizabeth, Cameron, Sam, Jack
Genre: AU
Summary: Agent John Sheppard is about to get a new partner - a woman he never thought he’d see again.
A/N: Special thanks to IR for her cheerleading (and putting up with me throughout this process, omg) and to ed_84 for her fantastic artwork!
Part One
Part Two
--
“A bomb?”
Elizabeth nodded. “According to Agent Ford, the two sisters, Vela and Ara Queen, are working together on this.”
Sam frowned and waved a dismissive hand. “But they’ve barely bothered to speak to each other in years. The separate cells make a point of keeping their distance - their paths do not cross.”
“It seems as if they’ve found a common goal,” Cameron observed, fingers drumming on the glass of the conference room table.
“And that goal would be?” O’Neill asked Elizabeth.
She shook her head. “Agent Ford didn’t know. All he could tell me was that it involved mass destruction.”
“Estranged sisters finally come together to tear apart,” Cameron mused. “Kinda poetic.”
John snorted. “Except for the impending doom.”
“Except for that.”
“Well, they’re not entirely trusting,” Elizabeth explained, leaning forward in her chair and lacing her fingers together. “It seems the target is unknown to the separate cells. One Queen holds the longitude, the other holds the latitude and they have no intention of bringing them together before the scheduled time. This way neither has the ability to make a move without the other.”
“Huh?” Cameron frowned. “That makes no sense. How is that even possible?”
Sam’s eyes widened. “They’re not really queens.”
“Um, they are Queens.”
“No, I mean in the hive.”
“The club?”
“No,” she corrected, “I mean in the chain of command. Someone’s above them.” At his blank expression she continued with a sigh, “It’s a metaphor, Cam.”
Elizabeth nodded. “There’s a third party.”
“Who?”
Sam glared at him in exasperation. “If we knew that we wouldn’t be doing this.”
John leaned back and looked briefly to the ceiling, trying to get back on track. “So in order to break up this party they have planned, we’ll need to gather the pieces.”
“That sounds about right.” O’Neill pushed his chair from the table and stood. “Get it done.”
“Sir, if I may,” Elizabeth spoke up. When O’Neill paused she continued, “I don’t know how reliable this intel is.”
John shot her a quick look of surprise. “You’re questioning Agent Ford?”
She hesitated, noting the tension in the room at her implication. “I know I have no history with him, but there was something about the way he handled himself that caused me concern,” she said carefully.
After a stretch of uncomfortable silence, O’Neill was finally the one to speak. “Well, until we have something better to go on, this is it.” His eyes darted from Elizabeth to the rest of his agents. “But be careful.”
--
“Cynthia Parker, Alterra Corporation,” Elizabeth introduced primly, adjusting her black-rimmed glasses and leaning over the table to scan the row of name tags.
“Here you are.” The buxom blonde in the folding chair rose and selected the correct tag, handing it to Elizabeth. “Enjoy the conference.”
“Oh I will,” she assured her with a bright smile. She pinned her alias on the lapel of her charcoal jacket and tugged at the hem of her matching skirt before smoothing a wisp of hair back into her bun. “Wormhole physics has always been one of the more intriguing theoretical sciences. I’ve been looking forward to this for months.”
“It’s true,” John confirmed, tucking his hands neatly into the pockets of his slacks and rocking ever so slightly on his heels, “she just won’t stop talking about it.” He smiled a goofy smile and stuck out his hand. “Tyler Price, Alterra Corp.”
“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Price,” the blonde cooed, blinking up at him and accepting his outstretched hand.
“Please, call me Tyler.” John ducked his head bashfully and let his hand linger in her grasp. “And the pleasure is most definitely mine.”
“So, Tyler,” she fluttered, drawing out his name as she stepped around the table to perch lightly on its edge and lean into his personal space, “what is it you do at Alterra Corp?”
“He’s my assistant,” Elizabeth supplied. She reached across the table and snatched John’s name tag. “Ready?” she asked brightly, thrusting it into John’s chest.
He shot a remorseful look at the blonde and shrugged his shoulders helplessly before accepting it. “As I’ll ever be, boss.”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth called over her shoulder, tugging John down the hall. After a quick scan of her surroundings she tilted her head slightly and pressed her earpiece. “We’re in.”
Copy that, Sam answered, we see you.
Sam and Cameron, dressed in dark blue coveralls, appeared in the hallway near the end of the corridor. Cameron pulled out a large ring of keys and rifled through them before selecting one. With a brief nod to Sam, he unlocked a side door and they slipped quickly inside.
We’re in the maintenance corridor. We should reach the panel in one minute.
Elizabeth and John continued down the hall, the click of her narrow heels echoing loudly as they made their way past the doorway where Sam and Cameron had disappeared. Stopping in front of the elevator, Elizabeth leaned forward to press the up arrow before clasping her hands in front of her and settling in to wait. Beside her, John craned his head to the side and pawed uncomfortably at his smoothed hair. He scrutinized himself in the hallway mirror.
Elizabeth sighed. “You look fine,” she assured him.
John dropped his hand to his side, but his tone bordered on whiny. “I haven’t combed my hair down like this since I was three.”
She took a moment to consider him as the doors slid open. “It does make you look nerdy,” she acknowledged, the corner of her mouth quirking into a grin as she stepped inside and selected their destination.
Next time you can be the electrician, Bo, Cameron offered as the doors closed. I can do all the heroic stuff and you can keep your hair as spiky as you want.
“I don’t know,” John said thoughtfully, “you look so cute in coveralls.”
You’re not fooling anyone. We know you hate that you can’t see my ass in these things.
Elizabeth cut off any further retort. “How’s the feed?” she asked.
Almost done, Sam answered. We’ve overridden the elevator lock and can get you access to the floor. Our current loop should be able to buy you about six minutes to get in and out. You’ve got one secretary at the reception desk and a few neighboring associates in their offices.
“Only six minutes, John,” Elizabeth warned. “That means you’ll have to cut back on the flirting. You’ll just have to ask for her number without the subtle innuendos and charming lead-in.”
“I do like a challenge.”
The door opened with a ding and they stepped out into a reception area. The girl at the desk frowned. “Excuse me,” she said, pulling herself to her feet, “this floor is restricted access. You’re not allowed here.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Elizabeth said innocently, “we must have hit the wrong button.” She looked around the foyer. “This isn’t the way to the lecture hall?”
The secretary shook her head. “You need to be on the twentieth floor. This level is locked. How did you get here?”
“Magic fingers?” John guessed.
The woman visibly swallowed. “I’m sorry?”
“He does have a way with his hands,” Elizabeth confirmed.
John stepped up close to the desk and flashed a roguish grin. “Would you like me to demonstrate?” He dropped his hand onto the secretary’s and the woman’s eyes rolled back in her head. Elizabeth was behind her before she lost consciousness, catching the limp body and easing the woman gently into the chair.
John peeled the latex skin from his index finger, careful not to touch the exposed surface, and slipped it into his pocket. As Elizabeth typed on the keyboard, John leaned over the desk and plucked the girl’s badge off her lapel. “Meghan O’Riley,” he read aloud.
“Needs access to room 2418,” Elizabeth added.
Give me one second - done.
Elizabeth led the way down the corridor, John close on her heels. When they reached their destination he waved Meghan’s badge over the magnetic lock. The door clicked open.
The office was standard: a large wooden desk with a computer, a set of grey armchairs, one unnaturally green plastic plant, and a garish excuse for art hanging prominently on an otherwise bare wall.
Elizabeth slid into the high-backed chair behind the desk and clicked at the keyboard. A password prompt appeared on the screen. She removed her glasses, flipped the small switch on the earpiece and set them on top of the tower.
“So which do you think we’re more likely to use - the tear gas disguised as breath spray or the demagnetizing penny?” Elizabeth asked as the glasses whirred softly and John surveyed the room.
“You’re mocking McKay,” he said, checking behind the painting. “You realize, of course, I’m going to have to tell him.”
“I’m not mocking, I’m just... impressed at his preparedness.”
“No cool tech east of the Rockies?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Oh, you know. Cups and string.” The glasses beeped and she slipped them back on. A nine-digit number appeared at the bottom of the lens and she typed it into the computer. The moment she struck the final key the screen changed.
“Damn it.”
John, standing near the door to listen for movement, looked over his shoulder at her outburst. “What?” He crossed back to the desk. “Shit,” he cursed the moment he saw the screen. “How long do we have?”
“I’d guess no more than sixty seconds,” she answered, typing furiously on the keyboard.
Beside her, John leaned in closer. “Shit,” he repeated.
Elizabeth continued to work as time ticked away.
“Damn it, Elizabeth, figure it out.”
“I’m trying.”
Sam’s voice came over the comm. They’re going to realize we’ve looped the feed any minute now. You need to get out of there.
John hovered over her shoulder. “Do you want me to do it?”
She spared him a glance. “No.”
“I’m better at math than you.”
“You are not,” she defended.
“Sure I am. What’s seven factorial?”
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed but she didn’t turn from the monitor.
“Five thousand forty,” John answered.
“That’s not fair,” she insisted. “You answered your own question.”
“That’s basic. You should have that memorized.”
Um, guys? How about you have this conversation after you get out of there.
Elizabeth hit the enter key. “Got it,” she said triumphantly.
John pulled a disc out of his pocket and slipped it into the drive. The moment the information began to transfer an alarm sounded.
“Fantastic,” John hissed. “Now we’re going to need an alternate exit strategy.” He dragged a file cabinet from the corner of the room and shoved it against the door.
You’ve got four armed guards on their way down the hall, two in the elevator. More mobilizing on the top floor. I’d give the first set about forty seconds until they’re on top of you.
The data finished copying and Elizabeth ejected the disc and slipped it into her pocket. “Done.” She watched as John wrapped his hands around the back of one of the visitor’s chairs. “Twenty four stories?” she asked in disbelief. She’d jumped a few times, but this high was just suicide. “You have a rope in that suit, Batman?”
“Maybe. I haven’t checked.” The chair slammed through the window on his third try, dusting the room in shattered glass. “But I did notice a molding running the length of the building,” he continued, knocking out the remaining fragments so that they could clear the frame. “Come on.”
She stepped tentatively past him, bracing herself against him as she found her footing on the ledge. “Four inches wide,” she said while balancing herself, “not even a challenge.”
John rolled his eyes and followed her as they shimmied along the ledge and made their way to the end of the building. When they came to the corner staircase John reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a pen. “I bet now you wish you hadn’t mocked McKay,” he said as he turned the laser on and began to cut a large circle into the panel. “You’d better thank him for this.”
“Mostly I’m thankful for glass-walled stairwells.”
John finished the circle and pushed, causing the section to crash to the floor below. He went through first before offering Elizabeth his hand. She took it, following him through and landing with a crunch. They began a hurried descent down the stairs.
“Why can’t the bad guys work on the second story?” he asked breathlessly.
“This is good for you. Gets your heart rate going.”
“I think the alarms are enough to get my heart rate going. This just makes my calves hurt.”
When they finally reached the ground floor, they barreled through the emergency exit and into the street. Sam and Cameron were waiting in the idling van.
They jumped in and slammed the doors behind them. As Cameron peeled out onto the street, Sam swiveled in her seat to look at Elizabeth. “You did that in heels?” she asked with a hint of awe. “That’s classy.”
--
John swayed slightly to the music, hands slipping down the silk of Elizabeth’s long red dress. Her hair was spilling in tousled curls from a large clip, leaving her shoulders bare in the soft light of the chandelier. A string quartet played an unfamiliar melody and the richest of the rich, Seattle’s high society, mingled around them in tuxedos and gowns. John’s eyes followed Cameron as he wove through the crowd, drink tray held aloft. Dressed as a waiter, Cameron collected a pair of empty champagne flutes and slipped out of the room.
Got it, he told them.
Elizabeth and John broke apart, his hand brushing lightly down the side of her arm before finding the small of her back as he escorted her from the dance floor.
“Champagne, sir?” Cameron asked when they came upon him in the outer foyer.
John nodded and selected the closest glass. “Thank you.”
“And the lady?”
Elizabeth nodded and grabbed the stem of the remaining flute, her free hand toying with the large red gem that dangled from her neck.
“There’s a beautiful view from the balcony upstairs,” Cameron said with a smile. “Quite a night for stars.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We’ll have to have a look for ourselves.”
Cameron bowed slightly and disappeared back into the party.
John followed Elizabeth up the central staircase, past the balcony and down a long hallway. When they were out of sight of the main thoroughfare, he stopped and placed his champagne on a hall table. Elizabeth peeled a thin layer of latex from the bowl of her flute and handed it to John before discarding the glass.
He nodded and they moved deeper into the hallway, rounded two corners and were approaching their next turn when Sam’s voice sounded in his ear. Two guards coming from the west.
John looked at Elizabeth worriedly, but she pointed him to a nearby door. He opened it and slipped into what appeared to be a small closet. When he started to make room for her, Elizabeth shook her head indicating that John should shut himself inside. A moment later, the guards turned the corner into the hallway.
John watched through the crack he maintained in the door as Elizabeth clutched her stomach and doubled over as if in pain. When the guards reached her she let out a low moan.
“Guests aren’t allowed here, ma’am,” the guard said gruffly. “You need to go back downstairs.”
She started to stand up, but then stumbled a little and fell forward toward the nearest guard. “I think I’m going to... oh, god, I’m going to be sick.”
“Come on, lets go,” the bigger guard instructed. He put a hand under her arm and turned her back toward the exit and out of John’s line of sight. “No, no, this way.” There was another moan from Elizabeth. “No - oh, Jesus - over here.”
When the sound of the three making their way down the hall had faded John peeked out from his hiding place.
You’re clear, Bo, Sam informed him.
He didn’t waste time getting to the study. Once there, he took the latex Elizabeth had given him and raised it to the light, locating the print. He then smoothed it over the electronic pad beside the door and pressed down with his thumb. The red light on the side of the device blinked out and a green light illuminated. John eased the door open and slipped inside.
It didn’t take him long to find the safe - they were always behind the paintings with hinges. He swung the canvas away and reached into his pocket, pulling out the small black box that Rodney had given him. John stuck the magnetized side against the metal door of the safe and pressed the button to activate it, watching as the digital numbers began to cycle. As the sixth digit flashed into place, the study door opened.
John drew his gun and spun around to find Elizabeth with her hands raised.
“It’s just me,” she said, walking toward him and slowly lowering her hands to her sides.
He slipped his gun back into its holster. “I thought you were watching the goons.”
“I got bored.” She jerked her thumb in the general direction of the hallway. “They’re unconscious in the closet.”
John shook his head and returned his attention to the safe. “Almost done.”
When Rodney’s device entered the eleventh digit, the lock clicked. John opened the safe and sifted through the contents - passports, wads of bills, envelopes, jewelry. He located the flash drive and grabbed it, swapping it out with a fake from his pocket. “Let’s go.”
As they exited the office John removed the latex from the pad before leading Elizabeth toward the staircase.
One guard around the next corner, Sam informed them. Ten seconds.
“Bogota?” Elizabeth asked with a grin.
Instead of answering, John snagged her by the wrist, snaked his free arm around her waist and backed her against the wall. He only had time to whisper, “Don’t slap me,” before pressing his lips to hers.
Of course, Sam said in their ears, the kissing couple diversion. How very James Bond.
You know, Penny, we don’t use that one as often as we should.
Spare me, Belle.
“Hey!” a suited man barked. “This area is off limits.”
John pulled slowly away from Elizabeth, taking only a moment note her bewildered expression before turning to face the guard. “Just looking for a little privacy.”
“Keep looking.”
He let a smile creep across his face and his eyes slipped guiltily to Elizabeth. “Couldn’t wait. Can you blame me?”
The guard jerked his head toward the exit. “Take it outside, man.”
John grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and dragged her toward the exit. “Now there’s an idea.”
--
“She was totally mocking it.”
Elizabeth shot him a withering glare and turned her focus to Rodney. “That is absolutely untrue. I was impressed. Really impressed.”
“Well, of course you were impressed,” Rodney said, still working intently on his calculations.
“That pen saved us,” she continued. John rolled his eyes and Elizabeth made sure Rodney wasn’t looking before sticking out her tongue. “And had it been night, the infrared contact lenses would have been invaluable.”
John pointed at her. “See! She’s doing it again!”
“I’m not doing anything! It was a compliment!”
“McKay, I think you should stop letting her use your tech.” When he didn’t respond, John prompted, “Rodney?”
“Uh oh.”
“What do you mean, ‘uh oh’?”
“What, you want a synonym? Not good. Oh darn. Dangnabit-”
“McKay.”
“I mean,” he pulled the flash drive out of his computer and tossed it on the desk, “that this is a problem.”
“How so?”
“I managed to decrypt the data you retrieved from the disc and this drive.” Rodney entered a few keystrokes and a satellite image of the Seattle area appeared. He gestured to the screen. “And I found the location of the bomb.”
John leaned forward to get a better look. “Uh oh.”
Elizabeth surveyed the image. She wasn’t very familiar with Seattle’s layout, but wasn’t that - “The airport?”
Rodney shook his head. “Maybe peripherally, but that’s not the main target.” He pointed to the map just south of SeaTac. “They’re going to hit the Federal Detention Center.”
--
Two hours later, John, Elizabeth, Sam and Cameron adjusted the last of their gear and quietly exited their van. Sam directed the infrared camera toward the building and checked her comm. “Rodney?”
We’re picking up four bodies inside.
“Not a lot of muscle for bomb-sitting duty,” Sam observed.
“You don’t know that,” Cameron countered. “McKay said nothing about the size of the muscle on the bodies. They could be four guys the size of the Hulk. Hell, one guy the size of the Hulk would be more muscle than all of us put together. I mean, I’m pretty well built, but Bo’s just plain scrawny.”
“I am not scrawny.”
Sam coughed to smother a laugh.
“I’m not!”
She grinned. “I wasn’t saying you were.”
John shook his head. “You spend too much time with Cam.” He checked his clip and slammed it home. “Let’s move out.”
--
“How are we doing?”
Rodney almost jumped from his chair when O’Neill spoke from directly behind him. He’d been listening to the team on the ground and hadn’t heard him come in. “Fine, sir. Just fine.”
O’Neill stepped closer until he was looming over Rodney and folded his arms over his chest. “Only four guys?”
“Could be four large guys.”
He just raised an eyebrow.
“Never mind.” Rodney took off his headset and hit a few keys. The audio from the comms began to pump through his desktop speakers.
They watched on the monitor as John and Elizabeth cautiously approached the targets from the north, and Sam and Cameron skirted the south corridor, making steady progress.
Team two in place, Sam advised.
John’s voice was a whisper. Team one is set.
O’Neill nodded and Rodney gave the authorization. “You have a go.”
The two men watched as, on his order, the teams entered the room and surrounded the guards.
Drop your weapons! I said drop your weapons! And step away! Now! Don’t touch-
Gunfire erupted a moment later. When it stopped, it was Elizabeth who spoke. We have them secured.
Rodney keyed his mic. “Great, now locate the bomb.”
We already did.
--
As Sam and Cameron bound the guards with quick-ties, John dropped to his knees near the large metal box. He removed a screwdriver from his vest went to work on the casing.
His hands were trembling slightly by the time he removed the final screw. Bombs were not high on his list of enjoyable activities - ranking somewhere between pinochle and being the target of a firing squad. As he lifted the lid and caught his first glimpse of the device, he heard Elizabeth let out a low whistle.
She touched her hand to her earpiece. “One of them activated the countdown before we could stop him. We now have three minutes, Rodney. Where are we in the evacuation?”
The FDC has successfully been evacuated and all flights to and from SeaTac have been suspended. All you have to do is disarm that bomb so we can avoid a nasty press conference. And, well, he added as an afterthought, so you don’t blow yourselves up.
“Your concern is truly heartwarming.”
You know how terrible press conferences are.
John sighed and turned to Cameron. “You all might as well get out of here. It doesn’t take four of us to hold a screwdriver.”
Cameron eyed him warily. “You want us out? What about you?”
“I’ll work better if it’s quiet in here.” He nodded to the tied-up guards. “No need for extra casualties.”
Cameron shifted uncomfortably and then cast a long look at Sam. She shook her head, but reached for the nearest guard. “Guess you get a pass today. Up!”
As Sam and Cameron shuffled the guards through the door, John looked at Elizabeth. “You too.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He was becoming more desperate as the clock continued to count down. “Look, stop arguing. I need you out of here. Now.”
“I’m not having this conversation again, John. If we’re partners, we’re partners. We stick together. You don’t do this alone.” She got down on her knees with him and peered at the device. “Now hand me those wire cutters.”
For the life of him, John had no idea how to handle this woman. Shaking his head, he passed her the cutters, muttering insufferable under his breath.
She looked up at him. “Oh, you’re only just beginning to know how stubborn I can be.” Pushing apart the wires, she pointed. “That looks like it could be the secondary trigger. And here,” she traced a long blue wire, “that could lead to the power source.”
John looked again at the ticking clock. Removing his gloves, he wiped his hands on his pants as he studied the tangle of brightly colored wires that spilled from the central panel. “So your vote is blue? I usually try to go for the green.”
“How should we decide; rock, paper, scissors?” He glared at her. “All right, all right; let’s go for your green.”
With painstakingly slow movements John separated the wires to isolate green while Elizabeth inserted the cutters. She looked up at him. “On three?” At his nod she began to count down. “One, two -” She cut the wire and the clock immediately went black.
“What the hell? I thought we were going on three?”
“I knew you’d flinch.”
“I’d flinch? Who’s the professional here? Who was it again that picked green and saved the day?”
Elizabeth paused a moment, examining the device more closely. “You might want to dial back the self-accolades, hotshot.” She drew her knife from her vest and wedged it into a small sliver in the cap they had assumed was the detonator. Levering the blade, she forced it open. “Looks like it wouldn’t have mattered. This isn’t anything more than an alarm clock and a bundle of wire.” She shook her head. “I knew it. I knew this was too easy.”
“Knew what?” John leaned in to get a closer look. “What are you talking about?”
Elizabeth tossed the cap onto the floor. “Ford. It must be a decoy.”
--
“Michael Kenmore,” O’Neill announced, the large screen behind him projecting the face of a man in his mid-thirties. “A known associate of Vela Queen, he was suspected of being her superior - possibly a leader of the entire Wraith organization. This was never substantiated. His laundry list of convictions includes assault, arson, and fraud. He is currently being held for trial on multiple counts of murder and kidnapping. Thanks to our phony bomb evacuation, Kenmore escaped federal custody.”
“Well, you’ve got to hand it to these Queen ladies,” Cameron said, tapping his pen on his chin. “That was a pretty solid plan.”
Sam sighed.
“What? I can’t give props to criminal masterminds?”
“It wasn’t them,” Elizabeth said, flipping though the file in front of her. “It was him. He was the third party. He set this whole thing up. He set us up.”
“Our priority now,” O’Neill continued, “is to find Kenmore and bring him back into custody.”
“What about Ford?” John asked, glancing briefly at Elizabeth. “Have we heard from him?”
“We’ve had no contact from Agent Ford since your meet. We’re operating under the assumption that he’s still too far in to make a safe drop.”
Elizabeth cleared her throat. “And what about the possibility that he’s in on this?”
“It’s something we’re going to have to consider.”
“So,” Cameron said, breaking the awkward silence that followed that revelation, “instead of bringing down the bad guy we actually released the bad guy - does that mean the barbeque is off?”
“Is Sheppard’s birthday still tomorrow?” O’Neill asked.
“I’d assume so, sir.”
“The cake has already been purchased?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then the barbeque is still on. We’ll have as many agents as possible attempting to locate Kenmore. When we spot him, we move.”
--
“So,” Teyla Emmagen began as she stepped into the kitchen, “I’ve been reading your mission reports.”
John didn’t turn around, instead continuing his search of the refrigerator. “Spy,” he accused.
“Occupational hazard,” she corrected.
He selected a beer and turned to Teyla. “Want one?” She nodded and he grabbed another before closing the door and stepping up to the counter. He opened the bottles and handed her one.
“You’re working surprisingly well with your new partner.”
John shrugged and took a pull of his beer.
“Considering,” she added and John flinched. At his reaction she smiled. “I thought it was her.”
John feigned confusion. “Her who?”
Teyla narrowed her gaze. “We worked together for how long? You can’t honestly believe you have secrets from me, John.”
He picked at the label of his bottle, refusing to meet her eyes. “Can’t a guy hope?”
“For as long as I’ve known you, John Sheppard, you have never been serious about a woman. There had to be a reason, and I now believe that she is it,” Teyla concluded. “She’s the one.”
John bristled. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no ‘one.’”
“Mmm hmm.”
“You know how I told you I was disappointed you were promoted and couldn’t be my partner anymore?” he asked. When Teyla nodded he continued, “Well I lied.”
“I know.” She smiled. “‘Disappointed’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
John was about to respond when Elizabeth entered through the back door. Her eyes flitted between John and Teyla and she paused, clearly uncomfortable with the situation she found herself in. Finally, she lifted her hands, indicating the three empty beer bottles she was holding. “I drew the short straw.”
John ignored Teyla’s soft smile and focused his attention on Elizabeth. He waived a hand in Teyla’s direction. “Elizabeth, this is Teyla Emmagen, Regional Chief of International Operations and my former partner. Teyla, this is my temporary partner, Elizabeth Weir.”
“You’re alive,” Elizabeth said, shifting the bottles to one hand and extending the other.
Teyla raised her eyebrows as she shook Elizabeth’s hand. “Had you heard otherwise?”
Elizabeth’s eyes danced. “I just assumed no one survived being John’s partner.”
“It was a feat.” Teyla laughed. “It is a pleasure to meet you, finally.”
“Finally?”
John coughed into his hand and Teyla mercifully shifted her attention to the door. “Well, I believe I got what I came for,” she looked to John, and after watching him squirm for a moment indicated her beer. “I should get back and track down Rodney. Earlier he said something about flammable mascara. This, I have to see.”
She was out the back door before Elizabeth had a chance to respond.
John slumped onto a barstool and continued to pick at the label of his beer. “So,” he began.
“So,” Elizabeth echoed, crossing to the sink to deposit the bottles.
“You headed back to Chicago now?”
She paused and turned to face him. “Kenmore’s still at large.”
John shrugged. “Not really your problem.”
“I like to finish what I start.”
“Since when?” he blurted, feeling vulnerable and frustrated from his conversation with Teyla.
Elizabeth stepped toward him and braced her hands against the counter, looking at him calmly. “John,” she started slowly, “what is that supposed to mean? You’ve been acting like this since I first got here. What are you really talking about? I feel like I have a right to know at this point.”
John released a breath, noting that his arms had instinctively folded across his chest, protecting himself from her. Shaking his head he forced himself to focus, forced himself to really look at her, standing there in his kitchen, in his life - wavy brown hair, piercing green eyes - and he allowed himself to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Teyla was right.
“John?” she prompted.
He took a second to compose himself and finally voiced the thought that had been bothering him since the moment Jack O’Neill had first said her name. “You left.”
“Left?” Elizabeth was clearly confused. “The academy? I got assigned to the Midwest.”
“I’m not talking about the job, Elizabeth.”
She shook her head and her face melted into a rueful smile. “What did I leave? Us?” She pushed off the counter. “There was no ‘us’ John.”
“That’s not true,” he argued.
Her smile faded. “Don’t give me that. Both on the job and off - you didn’t need me. You didn’t care then; don’t insult me by pretending to care now.”
“You think I didn’t care?” She turned away and he stood, following her as she retreated to the far side of the room. “You were the one who wanted the relationship kept a secret. I didn’t meet your standards. I was never good enough for you.”
“It wasn’t a relationship,” she fired back, spinning to face him. “The fact that my involvement with you wasn’t public knowledge was for your benefit. And it worked out pretty nicely for you as I recall, so I don’t know why you’re so bitter about it.”
“Your ‘involvement’ with me? What -”
The patio door banged open. “Sorry to interrupt,” Cameron stepped into the kitchen, his eyes darting between the pair, “but you’re going to want to hear this.”
--
Part Four