Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard Appreciation/Ship/Discussion Thread

[Probie]

Your American brother does indeed know who you are. He always wanted a little sister. And if you ever met your crazy uncle, you could tell him he's stupid in French. LOL
.

So all my American family knows me. The french crazy girl who wants to find a new family, live in another country and already think how her bedroom in her new house will be....well...It's a good thing.
Mon oncle est bête? Why? My favorite word in french (I use it every day lol) is "ganais". It's "stupid" in french but only in my region. So my future uncle is a "ganais".lol

It's bad day for all of you. BIG HUG to everybody.

[Scary Kitty]

Good afternoon, Sparkies! Happy Fluffy Thursday!

Big, big, BIG hugs to SR, Eri, drew, and everyone else who's having a no good, very bad, rotten day. *HUGS*

And the scene with the three most gorgeous women of SGA.
And the scene where John is carrying Elizabeth
And the scene where Elizabeth uses her languages knowledge
And the scene with Ronon and Teyla in the infirmary.
And.....
I'm convinced by my own arguments.lol

Damn, I think I wanna go watch Echoes now!

Just dropping in to say I'm part of the "hopeless romantic" club. If John's gonna go out in a blaze of glory, I would be okay with it, if it meant he and Elizabeth together in ascension. Insert romantic ascended glowy Sparky visual here.....

Ascended!Sparky!smut.

What? C'mon, we were all thinking it! LOL!

And ZOMG, Eri! I am flailing at that fic! Aaaahhhh! So good!

[drewandian]

Eri I love the fic! well done!

thanks SK....my whole day hasn't been bad...just one particular part of it...which reminds me...I need to PM Anuna....I need her opinion on something....

[Southern Red]

Here you are. It's a different spin for me, I wanted to try something new:

Spoiler:

There Are No Words

There are no words.

That’s the first thing that runs through his mind; there are no words. Just touch, sight, sound…but he cannot speak.

His fingers stroke the cool glass and his breath puffs in a cloud around his head.

He is aware of something buzzing around him and of people shouting. Someone grabs him and he’s pulled away, his fingers squeaking over the thick pane. He fights them for a moment until some incoherent jumble of explanations let him know this isn’t a goodbye or an illusion or a dream.

It’s real. And they’re coming back.

They’re coming back and they’re not leaving her behind again.

--\--

Nothing goes right; the stasis wasn’t right and the nanites aren’t right and it can’t be fixed.

“Not yet, not yet,” is all he hears until all the answers and all the faces look the same, speak the same, given him the same excuse.

To them, John says nothing.

--\--

There is time; there are still missions, still things to be done and pieces of Pegasus to put back together again. Every journey is different but every return the same: gateroom, his room, hers.

That stasis chamber is ironic, because he remembers it from years ago and now she sits there just the same, but different. Different in appearance, for the face behind the glass is younger and so heartbreakingly familiar, but the same in purpose as the old one was: sleeping.

Waiting.

Silent.

He says nothing.

--\--

The wraith almost grab him; but Teyla is sharp and Ronon is quick and he is determined that he won’t lose, not like this.

The blade slits his throat anyhow. And now he can’t speak, even if he wishes.

--\--

He remembers the woman before him. There are nightmares about her, too, though they don’t tear at his heart because it’s not exactly her face he sees, but that of a man, broken, whose eyes are scared but whose lips give consent.

The blue eyes are unchanged and the blonde hair curls the same, but her smile doesn’t wear the same sparkle; that is the effect of knowing more than anyone should of worlds beyond worlds.

Rodney re-introduces them, though it’s not necessary and he knows the only polite answer John is able to give is a smile and a nod.

Jeannie’s eyes train on the bandage below his throat but she says nothing about it. He wonders why she’s here.

Rodney answers for him.

“She’s figured out a way to program hers. Now they can repair things. Organically. But…it’s only been tried on non-essential parts of the body. Not…”

John wants him to finish. Rodney knows this but he offers no more. Silence is all he can give because that’s where the hope lies and not the reality.

--\--

The chamber is quiet and dark. He moves up to the chamber, fingers tapping lightly on the glass. He wants to tell her that answers come tomorrow but it doesn’t make sense to; he can’t say it, she can’t hear it, and neither is helped by it.

Tomorrow determines the length of the silence. He is scared senseless about what it might bring. But there is nothing more they can do and he already knows what life is like without her.

It is quiet.

--\--

Forty-eight hours in and Keller’s face is pinched. Carson’s clone studies the monitor once more, shaking his head and Jeannie is so exhausted the shine is gone from her eyes.

One, maybe two. That’s all that’s left.

Woolsey shakes his head.

“It’s not enough. They want them all.”

John feels the burning grown in his chest; Ronon has his arms crossed, watching the figure on the table with a blank expression.

“It might…she could be brain dead if we try to go deeper.”

“All of them.”

“It’s enough,” Rodney responds. “One or two, what difference does that make? No one has to know. She doesn’t have to know. There are no more replicators. We took care of them, remember? It’s enough.”

Woolsey watches him in silence. Hesitates.

“No,” John rasps hoarsely. The group turns to him. His voice has been forgotten, after nearly three months. “No.”

“What? But…”

A hand goes up and he shakes his head. He trains eyes on Ronon, Teyla, Richard.

On Rodney.

He needs Rodney to agree. They’ve disagreed on how to handle this situation from day one, but right now, he needs Rodney to agree.

There is silence.

The replicators are gone. There’s nothing left of them. It’s not a threat.

But she would know. And I’d never hear her voice. Not her real voice.

There is no answer from Rodney, which they all realize is strange. He leaves them, retreating in silence.

He bows his head as Jennifer nods hers, understanding. Carson frowns at them through the glass, his hands starting to shake. He’ll need his own stasis soon.

Neither of them needs to say what should be said. None of them watching need to hear it. It’s a slim line; a thin hope.

A lifeline.

But he’s been held by it for so long it doesn’t matter how thin it’s become.

At least it’s there.

--/--

The heartbeat is steady; the monitor the only thing that fills the room with sound.

Teyla has left; Ronon didn’t enter. Only he and Rodney, facing each other, across the rise and fall of the chest. And Jeannie, head in hand, her eyes weary.

No guarantees, is the answer. It may be never.

There never were guarantees. He and Rodney knew that.

So did she. From the very beginning.

--/--

The stasis chamber is empty.

His fingers brush the cool glass, leaving sweat trails across the clear surface. The lights are all down now; there is no need for them.

He puts his head on the chamber and a part of him wants to beat it with his fist until the glass shatters. Until it’s broken and unusable so that no one else can lay where she once did, twice. So that no one can take her place.

But he can’t do that; the voice that speaks reason speaks again and he won’t abandon it. That is not who he is and she would not want that.

The door behind him slides open. Ronon walks in.

It has to be Ronon. Ronon says the least and truthfully there is not much to be said.

Alive.

Dead.

No more words.

--/--

The eyes follow him in silence though they speak in his head. Some are screaming, others crying. He wonders why.

Some just want to know what it’s going to be like, now.

No one will ask.

They never have and they never will.

--/--

There is nothing that calls in the night, but the wind breaks the quiet. Below, in the inky blackness, the water laps with its rhythmic slap-slap-clap on the metal of the pier.

Her color is wrong. It’s not red.

But the green is pretty. A new designation, for a diplomat.

When she turns to face him, he notices it matches her eyes.

She catches sight of him, her hair blowing back from her face. There is something surreal about the image; he’s seen this several times in his mind but now it’s real.

Her eyes trail down to his throat and there is a crease in her forehead, wrinkled and human and whole. There is nothing where she’s looking; a scar matching the one on the other side. Two halves of an inhuman thing; first and last, beginning and end. He’d survived them both.

As he moves towards her she smiles nervously, the edges of her mouth crinkling slightly. He loves to see the crinkle; there is nothing artificial about it as there is nothing artificial about her.

She clears her throat; it hasn’t been used in so long, the voice. But when she speaks it comes out, soft and clear and strong and exactly as he remembers.

“Hello, John.”

He says nothing. He can speak, but he says nothing. He remembers a moment when she did the same, many years ago. He’d stammered a hello, but she’d said nothing.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around her, drawing her close. She is warm, and her heart beats against him. His eyes sting and his throat hurts and there are a million emotions flooding his chest: gladness, regret, apology, sorrow.

Joy.

A million things to say, but nothing can be said.

For there are no words.

*flails* That was just amazing. I like the new style but the angst may kill me. Why oh why couldn't this be canon?

So all my American family knows me. The french crazy girl who wants to find a new family, live in another country and already think how her bedroom in her new house will be....well...It's a good thing.
Mon oncle est bête? Why? My favorite word in french (I use it every day lol) is "ganais". It's "stupid" in french but only in my region. So my future uncle is a "ganais".lol

It's bad day for all of you. BIG HUG to everybody.

"Ganais" is a good word for a certain part of your American family but you don't have to meet them.

[Probie]

Here you are. It's a different spin for me, I wanted to try something new:

Spoiler:

There Are No Words

There are no words.

That’s the first thing that runs through his mind; there are no words. Just touch, sight, sound…but he cannot speak.

His fingers stroke the cool glass and his breath puffs in a cloud around his head.

He is aware of something buzzing around him and of people shouting. Someone grabs him and he’s pulled away, his fingers squeaking over the thick pane. He fights them for a moment until some incoherent jumble of explanations let him know this isn’t a goodbye or an illusion or a dream.

It’s real. And they’re coming back.

They’re coming back and they’re not leaving her behind again.

--\--

Nothing goes right; the stasis wasn’t right and the nanites aren’t right and it can’t be fixed.

“Not yet, not yet,” is all he hears until all the answers and all the faces look the same, speak the same, given him the same excuse.

To them, John says nothing.

--\--

There is time; there are still missions, still things to be done and pieces of Pegasus to put back together again. Every journey is different but every return the same: gateroom, his room, hers.

That stasis chamber is ironic, because he remembers it from years ago and now she sits there just the same, but different. Different in appearance, for the face behind the glass is younger and so heartbreakingly familiar, but the same in purpose as the old one was: sleeping.

Waiting.

Silent.

He says nothing.

--\--

The wraith almost grab him; but Teyla is sharp and Ronon is quick and he is determined that he won’t lose, not like this.

The blade slits his throat anyhow. And now he can’t speak, even if he wishes.

--\--

He remembers the woman before him. There are nightmares about her, too, though they don’t tear at his heart because it’s not exactly her face he sees, but that of a man, broken, whose eyes are scared but whose lips give consent.

The blue eyes are unchanged and the blonde hair curls the same, but her smile doesn’t wear the same sparkle; that is the effect of knowing more than anyone should of worlds beyond worlds.

Rodney re-introduces them, though it’s not necessary and he knows the only polite answer John is able to give is a smile and a nod.

Jeannie’s eyes train on the bandage below his throat but she says nothing about it. He wonders why she’s here.

Rodney answers for him.

“She’s figured out a way to program hers. Now they can repair things. Organically. But…it’s only been tried on non-essential parts of the body. Not…”

John wants him to finish. Rodney knows this but he offers no more. Silence is all he can give because that’s where the hope lies and not the reality.

--\--

The chamber is quiet and dark. He moves up to the chamber, fingers tapping lightly on the glass. He wants to tell her that answers come tomorrow but it doesn’t make sense to; he can’t say it, she can’t hear it, and neither is helped by it.

Tomorrow determines the length of the silence. He is scared senseless about what it might bring. But there is nothing more they can do and he already knows what life is like without her.

It is quiet.

--\--

Forty-eight hours in and Keller’s face is pinched. Carson’s clone studies the monitor once more, shaking his head and Jeannie is so exhausted the shine is gone from her eyes.

One, maybe two. That’s all that’s left.

Woolsey shakes his head.

“It’s not enough. They want them all.”

John feels the burning grown in his chest; Ronon has his arms crossed, watching the figure on the table with a blank expression.

“It might…she could be brain dead if we try to go deeper.”

“All of them.”

“It’s enough,” Rodney responds. “One or two, what difference does that make? No one has to know. She doesn’t have to know. There are no more replicators. We took care of them, remember? It’s enough.”

Woolsey watches him in silence. Hesitates.

“No,” John rasps hoarsely. The group turns to him. His voice has been forgotten, after nearly three months. “No.”

“What? But…”

A hand goes up and he shakes his head. He trains eyes on Ronon, Teyla, Richard.

On Rodney.

He needs Rodney to agree. They’ve disagreed on how to handle this situation from day one, but right now, he needs Rodney to agree.

There is silence.

The replicators are gone. There’s nothing left of them. It’s not a threat.

But she would know. And I’d never hear her voice. Not her real voice.

There is no answer from Rodney, which they all realize is strange. He leaves them, retreating in silence.

He bows his head as Jennifer nods hers, understanding. Carson frowns at them through the glass, his hands starting to shake. He’ll need his own stasis soon.

Neither of them needs to say what should be said. None of them watching need to hear it. It’s a slim line; a thin hope.

A lifeline.

But he’s been held by it for so long it doesn’t matter how thin it’s become.

At least it’s there.

--/--

The heartbeat is steady; the monitor the only thing that fills the room with sound.

Teyla has left; Ronon didn’t enter. Only he and Rodney, facing each other, across the rise and fall of the chest. And Jeannie, head in hand, her eyes weary.

No guarantees, is the answer. It may be never.

There never were guarantees. He and Rodney knew that.

So did she. From the very beginning.

--/--

The stasis chamber is empty.

His fingers brush the cool glass, leaving sweat trails across the clear surface. The lights are all down now; there is no need for them.

He puts his head on the chamber and a part of him wants to beat it with his fist until the glass shatters. Until it’s broken and unusable so that no one else can lay where she once did, twice. So that no one can take her place.

But he can’t do that; the voice that speaks reason speaks again and he won’t abandon it. That is not who he is and she would not want that.

The door behind him slides open. Ronon walks in.

It has to be Ronon. Ronon says the least and truthfully there is not much to be said.

Alive.

Dead.

No more words.

--/--

The eyes follow him in silence though they speak in his head. Some are screaming, others crying. He wonders why.

Some just want to know what it’s going to be like, now.

No one will ask.

They never have and they never will.

--/--

There is nothing that calls in the night, but the wind breaks the quiet. Below, in the inky blackness, the water laps with its rhythmic slap-slap-clap on the metal of the pier.

Her color is wrong. It’s not red.

But the green is pretty. A new designation, for a diplomat.

When she turns to face him, he notices it matches her eyes.

She catches sight of him, her hair blowing back from her face. There is something surreal about the image; he’s seen this several times in his mind but now it’s real.

Her eyes trail down to his throat and there is a crease in her forehead, wrinkled and human and whole. There is nothing where she’s looking; a scar matching the one on the other side. Two halves of an inhuman thing; first and last, beginning and end. He’d survived them both.

As he moves towards her she smiles nervously, the edges of her mouth crinkling slightly. He loves to see the crinkle; there is nothing artificial about it as there is nothing artificial about her.

She clears her throat; it hasn’t been used in so long, the voice. But when she speaks it comes out, soft and clear and strong and exactly as he remembers.

“Hello, John.”

He says nothing. He can speak, but he says nothing. He remembers a moment when she did the same, many years ago. He’d stammered a hello, but she’d said nothing.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around her, drawing her close. She is warm, and her heart beats against him. His eyes sting and his throat hurts and there are a million emotions flooding his chest: gladness, regret, apology, sorrow.

Joy.

A million things to say, but nothing can be said.

For there are no words.

[Eri13]

Thanks, all. I appreciate it.

I know. Angst. I didn't want to write angst, but blame Breaking Benjamin. I've been listening to "Anthem of the Angels" for the last two days.

[Scary Kitty]

Thanks, all. I appreciate it.

I know. Angst. I didn't want to write angst, but blame Breaking Benjamin. I've been listening to "Anthem of the Angels" for the last two days.

Oh, I'll quite cheerfully blame Breaking Benjamin! Because that is one damn awesome fic!

[Erin87]

Eeee! I can see the new avi! They're so cute! *pets John and Lizzie*

Erin I love your new avi....

I was listening to my MP3 player while I was walking today and heard a song that made me think "aw this is so sparky!" .... and of course now I can't remember what song it was....
EDIT: I remembered what it was!!!! No One by Alicia Keys

Thank you.

Here you are. It's a different spin for me, I wanted to try something new:

Spoiler:

There Are No Words

<snip for space>

Oh... Eri, that was fantastic! I liked the style; it really kinda sucks you in.

[pkprd869]

Eri great ficlet. Drew I do like the lyrics. Alicia Keys has a great voice. Not big on the hip-hop overdubbing; I think the song would be great with just her voice and her piano. Erin congrats on your promotion. All my sparky homies having a rough one, have a sparky beer. My last three nights have been rough. Broken machinery, and the production crew (I'm maintenance) needs to understand liquid steel goes through the mold and not on it. And we had a ladle (ours are only 90 tons) burn through. That was a fun fire to put out.

[Tanie]

Great fic Eri... oh but the angst! *sigh*

[SMB_BOOKS]

ooOOoo I wonder if I could make a sig or something outta that visual....hmmmmm

OOOHHHH - yes please!

Here you are. It's a different spin for me, I wanted to try something new:

Spoiler:

There Are No Words

There are no words.

That’s the first thing that runs through his mind; there are no words. Just touch, sight, sound…but he cannot speak.

His fingers stroke the cool glass and his breath puffs in a cloud around his head.

He is aware of something buzzing around him and of people shouting. Someone grabs him and he’s pulled away, his fingers squeaking over the thick pane. He fights them for a moment until some incoherent jumble of explanations let him know this isn’t a goodbye or an illusion or a dream.

It’s real. And they’re coming back.

They’re coming back and they’re not leaving her behind again.

--\--

Nothing goes right; the stasis wasn’t right and the nanites aren’t right and it can’t be fixed.

“Not yet, not yet,” is all he hears until all the answers and all the faces look the same, speak the same, given him the same excuse.

To them, John says nothing.

--\--

There is time; there are still missions, still things to be done and pieces of Pegasus to put back together again. Every journey is different but every return the same: gateroom, his room, hers.

That stasis chamber is ironic, because he remembers it from years ago and now she sits there just the same, but different. Different in appearance, for the face behind the glass is younger and so heartbreakingly familiar, but the same in purpose as the old one was: sleeping.

Waiting.

Silent.

He says nothing.

--\--

The wraith almost grab him; but Teyla is sharp and Ronon is quick and he is determined that he won’t lose, not like this.

The blade slits his throat anyhow. And now he can’t speak, even if he wishes.

--\--

He remembers the woman before him. There are nightmares about her, too, though they don’t tear at his heart because it’s not exactly her face he sees, but that of a man, broken, whose eyes are scared but whose lips give consent.

The blue eyes are unchanged and the blonde hair curls the same, but her smile doesn’t wear the same sparkle; that is the effect of knowing more than anyone should of worlds beyond worlds.

Rodney re-introduces them, though it’s not necessary and he knows the only polite answer John is able to give is a smile and a nod.

Jeannie’s eyes train on the bandage below his throat but she says nothing about it. He wonders why she’s here.

Rodney answers for him.

“She’s figured out a way to program hers. Now they can repair things. Organically. But…it’s only been tried on non-essential parts of the body. Not…”

John wants him to finish. Rodney knows this but he offers no more. Silence is all he can give because that’s where the hope lies and not the reality.

--\--

The chamber is quiet and dark. He moves up to the chamber, fingers tapping lightly on the glass. He wants to tell her that answers come tomorrow but it doesn’t make sense to; he can’t say it, she can’t hear it, and neither is helped by it.

Tomorrow determines the length of the silence. He is scared senseless about what it might bring. But there is nothing more they can do and he already knows what life is like without her.

It is quiet.

--\--

Forty-eight hours in and Keller’s face is pinched. Carson’s clone studies the monitor once more, shaking his head and Jeannie is so exhausted the shine is gone from her eyes.

One, maybe two. That’s all that’s left.

Woolsey shakes his head.

“It’s not enough. They want them all.”

John feels the burning grown in his chest; Ronon has his arms crossed, watching the figure on the table with a blank expression.

“It might…she could be brain dead if we try to go deeper.”

“All of them.”

“It’s enough,” Rodney responds. “One or two, what difference does that make? No one has to know. She doesn’t have to know. There are no more replicators. We took care of them, remember? It’s enough.”

Woolsey watches him in silence. Hesitates.

“No,” John rasps hoarsely. The group turns to him. His voice has been forgotten, after nearly three months. “No.”

“What? But…”

A hand goes up and he shakes his head. He trains eyes on Ronon, Teyla, Richard.

On Rodney.

He needs Rodney to agree. They’ve disagreed on how to handle this situation from day one, but right now, he needs Rodney to agree.

There is silence.

The replicators are gone. There’s nothing left of them. It’s not a threat.

But she would know. And I’d never hear her voice. Not her real voice.

There is no answer from Rodney, which they all realize is strange. He leaves them, retreating in silence.

He bows his head as Jennifer nods hers, understanding. Carson frowns at them through the glass, his hands starting to shake. He’ll need his own stasis soon.

Neither of them needs to say what should be said. None of them watching need to hear it. It’s a slim line; a thin hope.

A lifeline.

But he’s been held by it for so long it doesn’t matter how thin it’s become.

At least it’s there.

--/--

The heartbeat is steady; the monitor the only thing that fills the room with sound.

Teyla has left; Ronon didn’t enter. Only he and Rodney, facing each other, across the rise and fall of the chest. And Jeannie, head in hand, her eyes weary.

No guarantees, is the answer. It may be never.

There never were guarantees. He and Rodney knew that.

So did she. From the very beginning.

--/--

The stasis chamber is empty.

His fingers brush the cool glass, leaving sweat trails across the clear surface. The lights are all down now; there is no need for them.

He puts his head on the chamber and a part of him wants to beat it with his fist until the glass shatters. Until it’s broken and unusable so that no one else can lay where she once did, twice. So that no one can take her place.

But he can’t do that; the voice that speaks reason speaks again and he won’t abandon it. That is not who he is and she would not want that.

The door behind him slides open. Ronon walks in.

It has to be Ronon. Ronon says the least and truthfully there is not much to be said.

Alive.

Dead.

No more words.

--/--

The eyes follow him in silence though they speak in his head. Some are screaming, others crying. He wonders why.

Some just want to know what it’s going to be like, now.

No one will ask.

They never have and they never will.

--/--

There is nothing that calls in the night, but the wind breaks the quiet. Below, in the inky blackness, the water laps with its rhythmic slap-slap-clap on the metal of the pier.

Her color is wrong. It’s not red.

But the green is pretty. A new designation, for a diplomat.

When she turns to face him, he notices it matches her eyes.

She catches sight of him, her hair blowing back from her face. There is something surreal about the image; he’s seen this several times in his mind but now it’s real.

Her eyes trail down to his throat and there is a crease in her forehead, wrinkled and human and whole. There is nothing where she’s looking; a scar matching the one on the other side. Two halves of an inhuman thing; first and last, beginning and end. He’d survived them both.

As he moves towards her she smiles nervously, the edges of her mouth crinkling slightly. He loves to see the crinkle; there is nothing artificial about it as there is nothing artificial about her.

She clears her throat; it hasn’t been used in so long, the voice. But when she speaks it comes out, soft and clear and strong and exactly as he remembers.

“Hello, John.”

He says nothing. He can speak, but he says nothing. He remembers a moment when she did the same, many years ago. He’d stammered a hello, but she’d said nothing.

He steps forward and wraps his arms around her, drawing her close. She is warm, and her heart beats against him. His eyes sting and his throat hurts and there are a million emotions flooding his chest: gladness, regret, apology, sorrow.

Joy.

A million things to say, but nothing can be said.

For there are no words.

WOWEE - that is awesome! I was hanging on your every word, hoping for a happy ending. Nicely done!

Good afternoon, Sparkies! Happy Fluffy Thursday!

Big, big, BIG hugs to SR, Eri, drew, and everyone else who's having a no good, very bad, rotten day. *HUGS*



Damn, I think I wanna go watch Echoes now!



Ascended!Sparky!smut.What? C'mon, we were all thinking it! LOL!

And ZOMG, Eri! I am flailing at that fic! Aaaahhhh! So good!

Heck ya I waas thinking that!

[drewandian]

SMB I will give it a try...probably tomorrow or Saturday...but I make no promises, as I'm still figuring out all the graphic arts stuff....

[Scary Kitty]

*hugs pkprd869* Ack, another not happy day!

Heck ya I waas thinking that!

Maybe with making Atlantis's power system go haywire, which drives McKay nuts trying to figure it out as a bonus! LOL!

[pkprd869]

SK I feel much better now. Since there's so many sparky hopeless romantics, I made this for you.

Spoiler:

Wishing

John Sheppard stopped to fill his canteen in the village well after another run. He sat down on the steps outside his small hut. After a long drink of water John leaned back and looked up at the stars. He was getting lonely; not just for Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon. John really missed Elizabeth Weir.

Wishing, that I could see you every day
Wishing, that I could steal your heart away

Elizabeth stepped outside of her office to the balcony over looking the ocean. Her thoughts kept drifting to John. Elizabeth was determined to find and rescue the military commander of Atlantis. John did save her from Kolya and the Genii. But Elizabeth knew her conviction was driven by more than loyalty among comrades. Her driving force was stronger than that.

Dreaming, of the time I can hold you tight
Wishing, that the time would come tonight

While he looked at the stars, John smiled at an old memory. His grandparents would sit outside with him as a child and look for shooting stars. A few times he actually saw one. But John was not wishing for a new puppy, a GI Joe, or a remote controlled airplane. John was looking to make a wish to see one person.

I’ve been hoping all along things would turn out right
If I could find a wishing star then I could spend the night

Coffee, something Elizabeth rarely drank. She switched to tea years ago. But when things turned horrible, coffee provided her instant relief. Elizabeth pulled out her father’s pocket watch. 3:12 am the watch read. Elizabeth let out a sigh of frustration. She knew Rodney and Zalenka were working as fast as possible. She knew status updates would only slow them down. Elizabeth missed John’s calm and confident strength in these situations.

Wishing, that I could see you every day
Wishing, that I could steal your heart away

John finished his water and went back inside his hut. He stretched and got ready for bed. John was getting tired of fighting monsters all alone. He liked to villagers well enough; they were simple people with simple lives. Ascension did not appeal to him, but John understood why people tried to do it. And the villagers had no will to fight. John smiled thinking about Elizabeth. She may not be a soldier, but she will stand up and defend what she believes is right.

Dreaming, of the time I can hold you tight
Wishing, that the time would come tonight


Elizabeth finished her coffee and decided a walk would ease her mind. She never got to see as much of the city as she wanted. The scientists and military did most of the exploring. But she knew a little spot where a small fountain resided. Elizabeth slipped of her boots and sock. She slipped her feet in the cool water and closed her eyes. Elizabeth felt immediately relaxed and inhaled deeply then opened her eyes. She looked up to see a shooting star. Elizabeth smiled knowing John would use his boyish charm and convince her to make a wish. Elizabeth closed her eyes again and made her wish.

I’ve been hoping all along things would turn out right
If I could find a wishing star then I could spend the night

John looked out the window while laying in bed. A falling star streaked across the night sky. He grinned thinking of how he could tease Elizabeth into making a wish. John wondered what Elizabeth’s wish would be. He closed his eyes and made a wish. John went to sleep content his wish would come true.

Wishing, that I could see you every day
Wishing, that I could steal your heart away

OT

Spoiler:

I think I found my house. 3 bed/3 bath with attached 2 car garage. And a walk-in closet. The rear deck has a large above ground pool. I'm not a fan of pools, but we could have a sparky pool party. Hmm, Lizzie in bikini *thoughts of baseball and coldshowers*

[drewandian]

SK I feel much better now. Since there's so many sparky hopeless romantics, I made this for you.

Spoiler:

Wishing

John Sheppard stopped to fill his canteen in the village well after another run. He sat down on the steps outside his small hut. After a long drink of water John leaned back and looked up at the stars. He was getting lonely; not just for Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon. John really missed Elizabeth Weir.

Wishing, that I could see you every day
Wishing, that I could steal your heart away

Elizabeth stepped outside of her office to the balcony over looking the ocean. Her thoughts kept drifting to John. Elizabeth was determined to find and rescue the military commander of Atlantis. John did save her from Kolya and the Genii. But Elizabeth knew her conviction was driven by more than loyalty among comrades. Her driving force was stronger than that.

Dreaming, of the time I can hold you tight
Wishing, that the time would come tonight

While he looked at the stars, John smiled at an old memory. His grandparents would sit outside with him as a child and look for shooting stars. A few times he actually saw one. But John was not wishing for a new puppy, a GI Joe, or a remote controlled airplane. John was looking to make a wish to see one person.

I’ve been hoping all along things would turn out right
If I could find a wishing star then I could spend the night

Coffee, something Elizabeth rarely drank. She switched to tea years ago. But when things turned horrible, coffee provided her instant relief. Elizabeth pulled out her father’s pocket watch. 3:12 am the watch read. Elizabeth let out a sigh of frustration. She knew Rodney and Zalenka were working as fast as possible. She knew status updates would only slow them down. Elizabeth missed John’s calm and confident strength in these situations.

Wishing, that I could see you every day
Wishing, that I could steal your heart away

John finished his water and went back inside his hut. He stretched and got ready for bed. John was getting tired of fighting monsters all alone. He liked to villagers well enough; they were simple people with simple lives. Ascension did not appeal to him, but John understood why people tried to do it. And the villagers had no will to fight. John smiled thinking about Elizabeth. She may not be a soldier, but she will stand up and defend what she believes is right.

Dreaming, of the time I can hold you tight
Wishing, that the time would come tonight


Elizabeth finished her coffee and decided a walk would ease her mind. She never got to see as much of the city as she wanted. The scientists and military did most of the exploring. But she knew a little spot where a small fountain resided. Elizabeth slipped of her boots and sock. She slipped her feet in the cool water and closed her eyes. Elizabeth felt immediately relaxed and inhaled deeply then opened her eyes. She looked up to see a shooting star. Elizabeth smiled knowing John would use his boyish charm and convince her to make a wish. Elizabeth closed her eyes again and made her wish.

I’ve been hoping all along things would turn out right
If I could find a wishing star then I could spend the night

John looked out the window while laying in bed. A falling star streaked across the night sky. He grinned thinking of how he could tease Elizabeth into making a wish. John wondered what Elizabeth’s wish would be. He closed his eyes and made a wish. John went to sleep content his wish would come true.

Wishing, that I could see you every day
Wishing, that I could steal your heart away

OT

Spoiler:

I think I found my house. 3 bed/3 bath with attached 2 car garage. And a walk-in closet. The rear deck has a large above ground pool. I'm not a fan of pools, but we could have a sparky pool party. Hmm, Lizzie in bikini *thoughts of baseball and coldshowers*

aw...love the fic! *sigh*

and yay for the house!

Spoiler:

we had a pool in our yard growing up (well most of my life, my parents only just sold the house a year ago) it was great to have....

I'm tryin' to find a recording of No One that's just Alicia and her piano...no luck yet but I SWEAR I've heard it before, so I'll keep lookin'....