Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard Appreciation/Ship/Discussion Thread

[gateraid]

Sheppard: Wuh? Where's your red shirt?

Weir: I couldn't find one so I swiped one of yours. Shhh, nobody will notice

[JT-2]

Sheppard: Wuh? Where's your red shirt?

Weir: I couldn't find one so I swiped one of yours. Shhh, nobody will notice

That scene has to be the longest Sparky eye!sex stare in the whole show. Gotta love Carl Binder... he let them go out with a bang.

[gateraid]

Sheppard: Wuh? Where's your red shirt?

Weir: I couldn't find one so I swiped one of yours. Shhh, nobody will notice

Or:

Sheppard: These controls look different to the last time I was in here - did you redecorate?

Weir: Just a little

Sheppard: There was nothing wrong with the old ones

Weir: That's what you said last year, but you loved the new design eventually

Sheppard: *grumbles*

[Scary Kitty]

Good morning, Sparkies! Happy Canon Monday!

It's possible. I'm not really sure why they dropped him after CM. Maybe they felt his arc had played out at that point? I guess he would have had to do some serious talking to get another position on Atlantis after his LFP shenanigans.

Which no doubt is how Kav wound up at the ass-end of space on the Midway Station. It was the only place left that they could keep him out from underfoot of everyone he'd pissed off. Then they had to blow up Midway and there went their nice dumping ground.

What I noticed about that shot (aside from you ladies all being pervs hypocrites loyal fans) was that Joe must've actually been method acting being unconscious, based on Rachel & Rainbow's faces. I hope Paul wasn't method acting with the defibrilator

Why yes, we are loyal. VERY loyal.

All I can say is, Rachel must be a lot stronger than she looks. The way she dragged him through after Rainbow let go didn't leave much room for him to help her. Luckily she didn't have to bear his weight very far. He probably outweighs her by 50 pounds or more. Joe is very thin, but it's all muscle. And the height makes someone that size unwieldy.

So, now it's time to discuss. We're off to a nice start, but does anyone have a question that is plot related?

There has been much speculation about what John really meant to say, but I'm wondering why he backed off when he knew he was going to live. Why not just tell Weir what he had planned to? If it was to thank her for believing in him or something of that nature, wouldn't that be pretty harmless? And she seemed to understand him to the point that he didn't need to actually verbalize it. Is that the reason so many fans saw ship where none was intended?

I have to agree that it was something personal, either for him or for Elizabeth. Maybe it was just to thank her for giving him the chance; it's mostly harmless but still personal in a way, I think moreso for him.

But oh my yes, the way they handled it, by having Weir just know and not letting him say it, screamed that there was something underlying the whole thing. And as JT-2 pointed out, add that to The Storm/The Eye, and you've got a perfect recipe for a ship storm of epic proportions. Go Sparky!

That scene has to be the longest Sparky eye!sex stare in the whole show. Gotta love Carl Binder... he let them go out with a bang.

Twice, if you think about it. As irritating as Ghost in the Machine was, that last shot of John staring at the gate like his heart's just been ripped out, while everyone else walks away, is pure Sparky!angst gold.

[Southern Red]

That scene has to be the longest Sparky eye!sex stare in the whole show. Gotta love Carl Binder... he let them go out with a bang.

All of the jumper scenes in Lifeline were one big eyesex fest. Even Rodney commented about John believing her but not him while he was looking back and forth at them gazing into each other's eyes.

[JT-2]

I have to agree that it was something personal, either for him or for Elizabeth. Maybe it was just to thank her for giving him the chance; it's mostly harmless but still personal in a way, I think moreso for him.

But oh my yes, the way they handled it, by having Weir just know and not letting him say it, screamed that there was something underlying the whole thing. And as JT-2 pointed out, add that to The Storm/The Eye, and you've got a perfect recipe for a ship storm of epic proportions. Go Sparky!

The unintended ship! (until Carl Binder started writing it on purpose)

Twice, if you think about it. As irritating as Ghost in the Machine was, that last shot of John staring at the gate like his heart's just been ripped out, while everyone else walks away, is pure Sparky!angst gold.

Very true. At least Sparky went out with high drama instead of just disappearing altogether.

All of the jumper scenes in Lifeline were one big eyesex fest. Even Rodney commented about John believing her but not him while he was looking back and forth at them gazing into each other's eyes.

Rodney's expressions seem like "Hey, what's going on? What's the deal with the staring? Do you 2 always do this?" Oh, Rodney.

[Scary Kitty]

All of the jumper scenes in Lifeline were one big eyesex fest. Even Rodney commented about John believing her but not him while he was looking back and forth at them gazing into each other's eyes.

I'm surprised that episode wasn't rated R with all the eyesex going on.

The unintended ship! (until Carl Binder started writing it on purpose)

We're the Little Ship that Could!

Very true. At least Sparky went out with high drama instead of just disappearing altogether.

And who says it went out? Even after Elizabeth was gone, we still saw John doing the woobie face anytime something happened that reminded us of her. Always on screen, baby.

Rodney's expressions seem like "Hey, what's going on? What's the deal with the staring? Do you 2 always do this?" Oh, Rodney.

Well, Rodney always did seem to have that curious blend of cluelessness and insider information...

[JT-2]

We're the Little Ship that Could!

I always enjoy being the underdog. Although that's only in one sense, as we're surely the largest het group in SGA fandom. But we're the underdogs as far as TPTW go. That's what makes it even more fun.

And who says it went out? Even after Elizabeth was gone, we still saw John doing the woobie face anytime something happened that reminded us of her. Always on screen, baby.

And of course there's Vegas with its awesome parallelism that was also surely unintended but on screen so therefore it's canon.

Well, Rodney always did seem to have that curious blend of cluelessness and insider information...

Yup! It's easy for him to go either way in fic - either clueless or insider. Either way would work.

[ShipperWriter]

Whew! Another work day done.

So we deserve a hot Sparky angsty treat:

Spoiler:

Takes place between "Progeny" and "The Real World"

As Elizabeth started to drift back to consciousness, she was acutely aware of the warm body pressed up against her back and the protective hand covering her hip. She sighed in bliss. The last thing she remember about last night was talking on the balcony, staring out into the black waters of the Lantean ocean. She wasn’t sure exactly how they had wound up in her quarters, naked, spooned against each other, but considering how relaxed she felt for the first time in a long time, she didn’t really care that much.

She heard a groan behind her as a pair of newly familiar lips pressed themselves to the nape of her neck. “Morning,” a husky voice murmured sleepily.

Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile and shut her eyes. “Morning,” she greeted in the same manner.

He sighed, and just as she felt the hand on her hip grip her even more the body behind her began to move away.

Blindly, she reached for his hand, moaning as she stroked his forearm. “No, no, just a few more minutes,” she ordered weakly as her head snuggled into the pillow even further.

He made a sound that was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Elizabeth,” he slowly enunciated as he temporarily gave up on the idea of getting up, “I have work to do. And so do you.”

“It can wait,” she whispered as she began to drift off again. “Just a few minutes.”

The handsome voice behind her scoffed in amusement, then lifted his hand from her reach and grasped her shoulder, gently turning her over on her back.

She groaned, then blinked her eyes open and saw the familiar ceiling above her. “All right, fine,” she replied in defeat. “I’m awake. Are you happy now?”

The agonizingly slow kiss he placed at the base of her neck assured her that he was.

She moaned, her lower body arching upwards under the white sheet. “I thought you said we had work to do?”

“We do. Well,” he clarified with a smirk, “I do.” And he started his work, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck towards the area the sheet still covered.

She giggled, craning her neck back. “You are horrible.”

He smiled at her, then leaned back on his elbow and stared appreciatively at her. “But seriously. We can’t hide in here all morning.”

She shrugged as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “We’re the bosses. I say we can.”

John smirked, stretching his arms as he sat up.

Elizabeth stole a glance at that well defined chest that she had gotten to know so well last night and sighed. She had run her hands over every square inch, knew exactly where each muscle bulged. She could say the same for the area that the white sheet conveniently covered.

She glared playfully at him and pulled the sheet almost up to her neck. “Do you have to go?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If we drop off the grid, Elizabeth, people will know something’s up. And we can’t risk that.”

Though in agreement, Elizabeth nodded in disappointment. Judging by the look on John’s face, the feeling was mutual.

After a few seconds, though, his hazel eyes looked back at her, sparkling with an idea.

“How about I make you a deal?” he offered, placing his strong hands on the pillow her head lay on and bracing himself over her.

She glanced sideways, looking at his wrists, then back up to him. “Go on.”

“I gotta take a shower,” John stated, eyes raking over her bed head. “It normally takes me about … oh, seven minutes.”

Elizabeth stared quizzically at him. “Okay,” she replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

He smiled cockily at her. “If you come join me, I’ll make it fifteen minutes.”

She quickly did the mental math and then chuckled. “Eight minutes? That‘s all you need?”

He shrugged as best he could in his current position. “It’s all I can afford,” he replied huskily as he began to bend his elbows, slowly lowering his face to hers.

She met him halfway and kissed him, gently nipping at his bottom lip as her hands ran down the sides of his chest and swiftly brushed past the developing bulge in his boxers.

John let out a hiss, then turned his eyes back to hers. “Okay,” he acquiesced, narrowing his eyes as her green orbs smiled at him. “Twenty minutes.”

“That’s better,” she whispered as her hands wound around the back of his neck, pulling him down again. The kiss this time was much more tender, less frantic than the previous arousing kisses. Her hand lingered on his face as it swept down his cheek. The stubble wasn’t all that noticeable; only if you stared hard enough would you observe that he hadn’t shaved yet. “I like the scruffiness,” she teased with a smile.

John returned the smile, then grimaced. “Oh, crap,” then pushed himself up and sat on the bed, rubbing his cheeks.

Elizabeth sat up next to him, concerned hands bracing his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“My razor’s in my quarters,” he replied simply, glancing back at her and her bare shoulders.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “So what?”

“Elizabeth, if people see me like this, they’re gonna know that I didn’t make it home last night,” John answered, reaching down to the floor for his uniform pants.

She nodded, conceding the point at he stood up, buttoning his pants and walking across to the chair where his black tee shirt had been flung carelessly the night before.

As John pulled his shirt down, she folded her legs, bringing her knees up to her chin. The sheet still covered her breasts, and her hair was starting to get in her face. As she pushed a strand back, her eyebrow lifted. “John? Won’t people be suspicious if they see you leaving my quarters?”

Without missing a beat, he held up a LSD as he finished tying his boot laces. “Got it covered.” He left the jacket on the chair, then turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not letting one wandering moron get in the way of my shower,” he replied as he leaned over, giving her one last kiss before leaving.

She smiled shyly at him. “Hurry back.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised as he stood up and made his way towards the door, checking the LSD before he swiped his hand over the controls.

As soon as he left and the doors shut, she stood from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her lithe body as she made her way to the bathroom, grabbing a silk ivory robe that rested on a protruding hook from the wall. Once she traded the sheet for the robe, tying it securely in the front, she reached into the shower and flipped it on, giving the water a chance to heat up before John made his way back.

As she stood up, the reality of last night hit her in a form of a slight headache. Part of it descended from the neurons that started firing as the possibly ramifications occurred to her in her hazy state, and the other part was the constant headache she experienced daily as the Expedition leader.

She berated herself silently for allowing it to happen, but she didn’t feel a great deal of remorse. As she slowly started to remember the way they fit together, something John had once said suddenly surfaced -- “like chocolate and peanut butter”. They were delicious on their own, true, but any time Elizabeth would eat a Reese’s cup, she saw sparks fly.

The memory made her lick her lips as she considered adding a few items to the next requisition order that Daedalus brought them.

As she let the water run, she wandered across the bedroom to her dresser, pulling out a few articles of clothing for the day and laying them on the chair where John’s jacket still resided. As the fog lifted, she recalled no alcohol last night. She felt a bit disappointed, knowing that if this ever got out, there were no inhibition impairing substances to blame it on.

But she didn’t regret it. She had needed to be close to someone. She needed to wake up in the morning, feeling snug and secure in his strong arms. She needed the knowledge that she could still make a man respond to her, like the way John’s body had reacted last night. She wanted it to be him more than anything.

A fleeting moment of peace drifted over her. Then the headache turned into a full blown migraine.

She groaned and began to walk to her nightstand, searching for the medicine Carson had prescribed for when her headaches occasionally worsened.

The door opened behind her again and John snuck in, quickly closing them. “Well, now that that’s been taken care of -- Elizabeth!”

A blackness surrounded her as she fell to the floor.

-=-=-=-=-=-

John tapped his earpiece frantically as he glanced around the room, crouching next to Elizabeth‘s unconscious body. “Beckett. Medical emergency. Doctor Weir’s quarters.”

“What seems to be the problem, Colonel?” Carson’s Scottish brogue quickly asked.

John froze. What was he going to say, “Oh, I just wandered into her quarters and found her unconscious”?

“Elizabeth’s unconscious,” he replied as he maneuvered his arms under her.

“Oh good Lord. Is she breathing?”

“Yes,” he replied after a quick glance.

“Any signs of bleeding?”

“No.”

The question and answer continued until John arrived at the infirmary doors, carrying Elizabeth’s still body in his arms.

Once she was in a bed and Carson had put her under the scanner, he turned and glared at Sheppard. “Colonel, I need you to be honest and think carefully. Have you been in contact with anyone else besides Doctor Weir this morning?”

He shook his head, a frown forming in the process. “No. Why?”

Without giving a direct reply, Carson nodded at a medic who was dressed -- in a hazmat suit?

“Put him in isolation.”

“Carson, what the hell?”

“Elizabeth’s brain is teeming with nanites. She must’ve been infected when Niam attacked her in the jumper.”

As the medic led John into an isolation room, the colonel looked behind him and grimaced. “So why did they just now wake up?”

“I have no idea. The main thing right now is making sure you haven’t been infected as well.”

Slowly, John closed his eyes and exhaled. I just had sex with Elizabeth, he recanted silently. They could be allover me.

He faintly heard Carson yelling to someone to put an isolation tent around the bed that Elizabeth lay in, as well as bringing a portable scanner to check out John.

An hour later, John was thankful that Carson didn’t have to pry into exactly where he had touched Elizabeth. If he had been truthful, they would have both blushed.

He stood in the room, separated from Elizabeth by plastic sheeting, as Beckett and McKay scoured over the computer screens, their attention fully on her.

John breathed in to try and calm himself. “What’ve you got, Doc?”

Behind him, Carson sighed. “It’s gettin’ worse.” As John turned to look at the two doctors, Carson’s reply confirmed his fears. “It’s not just her brain anymore. They’re spreading throughout her body.” Glumly, he turned to look back at John. “We’re losing her.”

Nodding in defeated understanding, John couldn’t help but turn back to the sight of Elizabeth, laying helplessly in the isolated bed with a nasal canula helping to supply her oxygen. He felt conflicted and guilty. Why was it that he got off clean, but Elizabeth had to pay the price?

He crossed his arms. He didn’t like feeling helpless; he was a man of action, not one to sit back and watch as something he couldn’t even see took over the body of someone so close to him.

His hazel eyes glared through the plastic tent, willing with all his might that her familiar eyes would open, that this was just a snafu that was easily fixed.

But nothing happened.

For once in his life, John Sheppard didn’t know what to do. And it scared the hell out of him.

Hee hee.

[Southern Red]

Whew! Another work day done.

So we deserve a hot Sparky angsty treat:

Spoiler:

As Elizabeth started to drift back to consciousness, she was acutely aware of the warm body pressed up against her back and the protective hand covering her hip. She sighed in bliss. The last thing she remember about last night was talking on the balcony, staring out into the black waters of the Lantean ocean. She wasn’t sure exactly how they had wound up in her quarters, naked, spooned against each other, but considering how relaxed she felt for the first time in a long time, she didn’t really care that much.

She heard a groan behind her as a pair of newly familiar lips pressed themselves to the nape of her neck. “Morning,” a husky voice murmured sleepily.

Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile and shut her eyes. “Morning,” she greeted in the same manner.

He sighed, and just as she felt the hand on her hip grip her even more the body behind her began to move away.

Blindly, she reached for his hand, moaning as she stroked his forearm. “No, no, just a few more minutes,” she ordered weakly as her head snuggled into the pillow even further.

He made a sound that was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Elizabeth,” he slowly enunciated as he temporarily gave up on the idea of getting up, “I have work to do. And so do you.”

“It can wait,” she whispered as she began to drift off again. “Just a few minutes.”

The handsome voice behind her scoffed in amusement, then lifted his hand from her reach and grasped her shoulder, gently turning her over on her back.

She groaned, then blinked her eyes open and saw the familiar ceiling above her. “All right, fine,” she replied in defeat. “I’m awake. Are you happy now?”

The agonizingly slow kiss he placed at the base of her neck assured her that he was.

She moaned, her lower body arching upwards under the white sheet. “I thought you said we had work to do?”

“We do. Well,” he clarified with a smirk, “I do.” And he started his work, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck towards the area the sheet still covered.

She giggled, craning her neck back. “You are horrible.”

He smiled at her, then leaned back on his elbow and stared appreciatively at her. “But seriously. We can’t hide in here all morning.”

She shrugged as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “We’re the bosses. I say we can.”

John smirked, stretching his arms as he sat up.

Elizabeth stole a glance at that well defined chest that she had gotten to know so well last night and sighed. She had run her hands over every square inch, knew exactly where each muscle bulged. She could say the same for the area that the white sheet conveniently covered.

She glared playfully at him and pulled the sheet almost up to her neck. “Do you have to go?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If we drop off the grid, Elizabeth, people will know something’s up. And we can’t risk that.”

Though in agreement, Elizabeth nodded in disappointment. Judging by the look on John’s face, the feeling was mutual.

After a few seconds, though, his hazel eyes looked back at her, sparkling with an idea.

“How about I make you a deal?” he offered, placing his strong hands on the pillow her head lay on and bracing himself over her.

She glanced sideways, looking at his wrists, then back up to him. “Go on.”

“I gotta take a shower,” John stated, eyes raking over her bed head. “It normally takes me about … oh, seven minutes.”

Elizabeth stared quizzically at him. “Okay,” she replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

He smiled cockily at her. “If you come join me, I’ll make it fifteen minutes.”

She quickly did the mental math and then chuckled. “Eight minutes? That‘s all you need?”

He shrugged as best he could in his current position. “It’s all I can afford,” he replied huskily as he began to bend his elbows, slowly lowering his face to hers.

She met him halfway and kissed him, gently nipping at his bottom lip as her hands ran down the sides of his chest and swiftly brushed past the developing bulge in his boxers.

John let out a hiss, then turned his eyes back to hers. “Okay,” he acquiesced, narrowing his eyes as her green orbs smiled at him. “Twenty minutes.”

“That’s better,” she whispered as her hands wound around the back of his neck, pulling him down again. The kiss this time was much more tender, less frantic than the previous arousing kisses. Her hand lingered on his face as it swept down his cheek. The stubble wasn’t all that noticeable; only if you stared hard enough would you observe that he hadn’t shaved yet. “I like the scruffiness,” she teased with a smile.

John returned the smile, then grimaced. “Oh, crap,” then pushed himself up and sat on the bed, rubbing his cheeks.

Elizabeth sat up next to him, concerned hands bracing his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“My razor’s in my quarters,” he replied simply, glancing back at her and her bare shoulders.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “So what?”

“Elizabeth, if people see me like this, they’re gonna know that I didn’t make it home last night,” John answered, reaching down to the floor for his uniform pants.

She nodded, conceding the point at he stood up, buttoning his pants and walking across to the chair where his black tee shirt had been flung carelessly the night before.

As John pulled his shirt down, she folded her legs, bringing her knees up to her chin. The sheet still covered her breasts, and her hair was starting to get in her face. As she pushed a strand back, her eyebrow lifted. “John? Won’t people be suspicious if they see you leaving my quarters?”

Without missing a beat, he held up a LSD as he finished tying his boot laces. “Got it covered.” He left the jacket on the chair, then turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not letting one wandering moron get in the way of my shower,” he replied as he leaned over, giving her one last kiss before leaving.

She smiled shyly at him. “Hurry back.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised as he stood up and made his way towards the door, checking the LSD before he swiped his hand over the controls.

As soon as he left and the doors shut, she stood from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her lithe body as she made her way to the bathroom, grabbing a silk ivory robe that rested on a protruding hook from the wall. Once she traded the sheet for the robe, tying it securely in the front, she reached into the shower and flipped it on, giving the water a chance to heat up before John made his way back.

As she stood up, the reality of last night hit her in a form of a slight headache. Part of it descended from the neurons that started firing as the possibly ramifications occurred to her in her hazy state, and the other part was the constant headache she experienced daily as the Expedition leader.

She berated herself silently for allowing it to happen, but she didn’t feel a great deal of remorse. As she slowly started to remember the way they fit together, something John had once said suddenly surfaced -- “like chocolate and peanut butter”. They were delicious on their own, true, but any time Elizabeth would eat a Reese’s cup, she saw sparks fly.

The memory made her lick her lips as she considered adding a few items to the next requisition order that Daedalus brought them.

As she let the water run, she wandered across the bedroom to her dresser, pulling out a few articles of clothing for the day and laying them on the chair where John’s jacket still resided. As the fog lifted, she recalled no alcohol last night. She felt a bit disappointed, knowing that if this ever got out, there were no inhibition impairing substances to blame it on.

But she didn’t regret it. She had needed to be close to someone. She needed to wake up in the morning, feeling snug and secure in his strong arms. She needed the knowledge that she could still make a man respond to her, like the way John’s body had reacted last night. She wanted it to be him more than anything.

A fleeting moment of peace drifted over her. Then the headache turned into a full blown migraine.

She groaned and began to walk to her nightstand, searching for the medicine Carson had prescribed for when her headaches occasionally worsened.

The door opened behind her again and John snuck in, quickly closing them. “Well, now that that’s been taken care of -- Elizabeth!”

A blackness surrounded her as she fell to the floor.

-=-=-=-=-=-

John tapped his earpiece frantically as he glanced around the room, crouching next to Elizabeth‘s unconscious body. “Beckett. Medical emergency. Doctor Weir’s quarters.”

“What seems to be the problem, Colonel?” Carson’s Scottish brogue quickly asked.

John froze. What was he going to say, “Oh, I just wandered into her quarters and found her unconscious”?

“Elizabeth’s unconscious,” he replied as he maneuvered his arms under her.

“Oh good Lord. Is she breathing?”

“Yes,” he replied after a quick glance.

“Any signs of bleeding?”

“No.”

The question and answer continued until John arrived at the infirmary doors, carrying Elizabeth’s still body in his arms.

Once she was in a bed and Carson had put her under the scanner, he turned and glared at Sheppard. “Colonel, I need you to be honest and think carefully. Have you been in contact with anyone else besides Doctor Weir this morning?”

He shook his head, a frown forming in the process. “No. Why?”

Without giving a direct reply, Carson nodded at a medic who was dressed -- in a hazmat suit?

“Put him in isolation.”

“Carson, what the hell?”

“Elizabeth’s brain is teeming with nanites. She must’ve been infected when Niam attacked her in the jumper.”

As the medic led John into an isolation room, the colonel looked behind him and grimaced. “So why did they just now wake up?”

“I have no idea. The main thing right now is making sure you haven’t been infected as well.”

Slowly, John closed his eyes and exhaled. I just had sex with Elizabeth, he recanted silently. They could be allover me.

He faintly heard Carson yelling to someone to put an isolation tent around the bed that Elizabeth lay in, as well as bringing a portable scanner to check out John.

An hour later, John was thankful that Carson didn’t have to pry into exactly where he had touched Elizabeth. If he had been truthful, they would have both blushed.

He stood in the room, separated from Elizabeth by plastic sheeting, as Beckett and McKay scoured over the computer screens, their attention fully on her.

John breathed in to try and calm himself. “What’ve you got, Doc?”

Behind him, Carson sighed. “It’s gettin’ worse.” As John turned to look at the two doctors, Carson’s reply confirmed his fears. “It’s not just her brain anymore. They’re spreading throughout her body.” Glumly, he turned to look back at John. “We’re losing her.”

Nodding in defeated understanding, John couldn’t help but turn back to the sight of Elizabeth, laying helplessly in the isolated bed with a nasal canula helping to supply her oxygen. He felt conflicted and guilty. Why was it that he got off clean, but Elizabeth had to pay the price?

He crossed his arms. He didn’t like feeling helpless; he was a man of action, not one to sit back and watch as something he couldn’t even see took over the body of someone so close to him.

His hazel eyes glared through the plastic tent, willing with all his might that her familiar eyes would open, that this was just a snafu that was easily fixed.

But nothing happened.

For once in his life, John Sheppard didn’t know what to do. And it scared the hell out of him.

Hee hee.

Well, now that's a new twist on TRW. Personally, I wouldn't have let him out of my room. He could use my razor.

[ShipperWriter]

Well, now that's a new twist on TRW. Personally, I wouldn't have let him out of my room. He could use my razor.

I think that was actually a line of dialogue I had floating around, but it never got in the story.

Besides, I was also thinking of canonicity (if that's even a word, but you catch my drift). If John was the one that found Elizabeth after the nanites started working, I wanted to make it more dramatic. But couldn't you imagine John being dripping wet, explaining to Carson how he found Elizabeth in her shower?

Although, it could be argued that John got wet when he got her out of the shower ... but if that had been the case, his clothes wouldn't be wet, just his hair ...

Oy. Too much thinking. Maybe I'll just write another version with that plotline.

[mandogater]

I have to agree that it was something personal, either for him or for Elizabeth. Maybe it was just to thank her for giving him the chance; it's mostly harmless but still personal in a way, I think moreso for him.

But oh my yes, the way they handled it, by having Weir just know and not letting him say it, screamed that there was something underlying the whole thing. And as JT-2 pointed out, add that to The Storm/The Eye, and you've got a perfect recipe for a ship storm of epic proportions. Go Sparky!

I'm going to project here a bit, but as someone who is as bad if not worse than John about expressing his feelings that was absolutely going to be something personal.

For me the Good Ship Sparky didn't set sail during The Storm/The Eye but more like dropped ancor and dared anybody to deny it.

[mandogater]

Whew! Another work day done.

So we deserve a hot Sparky angsty treat:

Spoiler:

Takes place between "Progeny" and "The Real World"

As Elizabeth started to drift back to consciousness, she was acutely aware of the warm body pressed up against her back and the protective hand covering her hip. She sighed in bliss. The last thing she remember about last night was talking on the balcony, staring out into the black waters of the Lantean ocean. She wasn’t sure exactly how they had wound up in her quarters, naked, spooned against each other, but considering how relaxed she felt for the first time in a long time, she didn’t really care that much.

She heard a groan behind her as a pair of newly familiar lips pressed themselves to the nape of her neck. “Morning,” a husky voice murmured sleepily.

Elizabeth allowed herself a small smile and shut her eyes. “Morning,” she greeted in the same manner.

He sighed, and just as she felt the hand on her hip grip her even more the body behind her began to move away.

Blindly, she reached for his hand, moaning as she stroked his forearm. “No, no, just a few more minutes,” she ordered weakly as her head snuggled into the pillow even further.

He made a sound that was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Elizabeth,” he slowly enunciated as he temporarily gave up on the idea of getting up, “I have work to do. And so do you.”

“It can wait,” she whispered as she began to drift off again. “Just a few minutes.”

The handsome voice behind her scoffed in amusement, then lifted his hand from her reach and grasped her shoulder, gently turning her over on her back.

She groaned, then blinked her eyes open and saw the familiar ceiling above her. “All right, fine,” she replied in defeat. “I’m awake. Are you happy now?”

The agonizingly slow kiss he placed at the base of her neck assured her that he was.

She moaned, her lower body arching upwards under the white sheet. “I thought you said we had work to do?”

“We do. Well,” he clarified with a smirk, “I do.” And he started his work, leaving a trail of kisses down her neck towards the area the sheet still covered.

She giggled, craning her neck back. “You are horrible.”

He smiled at her, then leaned back on his elbow and stared appreciatively at her. “But seriously. We can’t hide in here all morning.”

She shrugged as she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. “We’re the bosses. I say we can.”

John smirked, stretching his arms as he sat up.

Elizabeth stole a glance at that well defined chest that she had gotten to know so well last night and sighed. She had run her hands over every square inch, knew exactly where each muscle bulged. She could say the same for the area that the white sheet conveniently covered.

She glared playfully at him and pulled the sheet almost up to her neck. “Do you have to go?”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If we drop off the grid, Elizabeth, people will know something’s up. And we can’t risk that.”

Though in agreement, Elizabeth nodded in disappointment. Judging by the look on John’s face, the feeling was mutual.

After a few seconds, though, his hazel eyes looked back at her, sparkling with an idea.

“How about I make you a deal?” he offered, placing his strong hands on the pillow her head lay on and bracing himself over her.

She glanced sideways, looking at his wrists, then back up to him. “Go on.”

“I gotta take a shower,” John stated, eyes raking over her bed head. “It normally takes me about … oh, seven minutes.”

Elizabeth stared quizzically at him. “Okay,” she replied, unsure of where he was going with this.

He smiled cockily at her. “If you come join me, I’ll make it fifteen minutes.”

She quickly did the mental math and then chuckled. “Eight minutes? That‘s all you need?”

He shrugged as best he could in his current position. “It’s all I can afford,” he replied huskily as he began to bend his elbows, slowly lowering his face to hers.

She met him halfway and kissed him, gently nipping at his bottom lip as her hands ran down the sides of his chest and swiftly brushed past the developing bulge in his boxers.

John let out a hiss, then turned his eyes back to hers. “Okay,” he acquiesced, narrowing his eyes as her green orbs smiled at him. “Twenty minutes.”

“That’s better,” she whispered as her hands wound around the back of his neck, pulling him down again. The kiss this time was much more tender, less frantic than the previous arousing kisses. Her hand lingered on his face as it swept down his cheek. The stubble wasn’t all that noticeable; only if you stared hard enough would you observe that he hadn’t shaved yet. “I like the scruffiness,” she teased with a smile.

John returned the smile, then grimaced. “Oh, crap,” then pushed himself up and sat on the bed, rubbing his cheeks.

Elizabeth sat up next to him, concerned hands bracing his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“My razor’s in my quarters,” he replied simply, glancing back at her and her bare shoulders.

She shrugged nonchalantly. “So what?”

“Elizabeth, if people see me like this, they’re gonna know that I didn’t make it home last night,” John answered, reaching down to the floor for his uniform pants.

She nodded, conceding the point at he stood up, buttoning his pants and walking across to the chair where his black tee shirt had been flung carelessly the night before.

As John pulled his shirt down, she folded her legs, bringing her knees up to her chin. The sheet still covered her breasts, and her hair was starting to get in her face. As she pushed a strand back, her eyebrow lifted. “John? Won’t people be suspicious if they see you leaving my quarters?”

Without missing a beat, he held up a LSD as he finished tying his boot laces. “Got it covered.” He left the jacket on the chair, then turned around and sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not letting one wandering moron get in the way of my shower,” he replied as he leaned over, giving her one last kiss before leaving.

She smiled shyly at him. “Hurry back.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised as he stood up and made his way towards the door, checking the LSD before he swiped his hand over the controls.

As soon as he left and the doors shut, she stood from the bed, wrapping the sheet around her lithe body as she made her way to the bathroom, grabbing a silk ivory robe that rested on a protruding hook from the wall. Once she traded the sheet for the robe, tying it securely in the front, she reached into the shower and flipped it on, giving the water a chance to heat up before John made his way back.

As she stood up, the reality of last night hit her in a form of a slight headache. Part of it descended from the neurons that started firing as the possibly ramifications occurred to her in her hazy state, and the other part was the constant headache she experienced daily as the Expedition leader.

She berated herself silently for allowing it to happen, but she didn’t feel a great deal of remorse. As she slowly started to remember the way they fit together, something John had once said suddenly surfaced -- “like chocolate and peanut butter”. They were delicious on their own, true, but any time Elizabeth would eat a Reese’s cup, she saw sparks fly.

The memory made her lick her lips as she considered adding a few items to the next requisition order that Daedalus brought them.

As she let the water run, she wandered across the bedroom to her dresser, pulling out a few articles of clothing for the day and laying them on the chair where John’s jacket still resided. As the fog lifted, she recalled no alcohol last night. She felt a bit disappointed, knowing that if this ever got out, there were no inhibition impairing substances to blame it on.

But she didn’t regret it. She had needed to be close to someone. She needed to wake up in the morning, feeling snug and secure in his strong arms. She needed the knowledge that she could still make a man respond to her, like the way John’s body had reacted last night. She wanted it to be him more than anything.

A fleeting moment of peace drifted over her. Then the headache turned into a full blown migraine.

She groaned and began to walk to her nightstand, searching for the medicine Carson had prescribed for when her headaches occasionally worsened.

The door opened behind her again and John snuck in, quickly closing them. “Well, now that that’s been taken care of -- Elizabeth!”

A blackness surrounded her as she fell to the floor.

-=-=-=-=-=-

John tapped his earpiece frantically as he glanced around the room, crouching next to Elizabeth‘s unconscious body. “Beckett. Medical emergency. Doctor Weir’s quarters.”

“What seems to be the problem, Colonel?” Carson’s Scottish brogue quickly asked.

John froze. What was he going to say, “Oh, I just wandered into her quarters and found her unconscious”?

“Elizabeth’s unconscious,” he replied as he maneuvered his arms under her.

“Oh good Lord. Is she breathing?”

“Yes,” he replied after a quick glance.

“Any signs of bleeding?”

“No.”

The question and answer continued until John arrived at the infirmary doors, carrying Elizabeth’s still body in his arms.

Once she was in a bed and Carson had put her under the scanner, he turned and glared at Sheppard. “Colonel, I need you to be honest and think carefully. Have you been in contact with anyone else besides Doctor Weir this morning?”

He shook his head, a frown forming in the process. “No. Why?”

Without giving a direct reply, Carson nodded at a medic who was dressed -- in a hazmat suit?

“Put him in isolation.”

“Carson, what the hell?”

“Elizabeth’s brain is teeming with nanites. She must’ve been infected when Niam attacked her in the jumper.”

As the medic led John into an isolation room, the colonel looked behind him and grimaced. “So why did they just now wake up?”

“I have no idea. The main thing right now is making sure you haven’t been infected as well.”

Slowly, John closed his eyes and exhaled. I just had sex with Elizabeth, he recanted silently. They could be allover me.

He faintly heard Carson yelling to someone to put an isolation tent around the bed that Elizabeth lay in, as well as bringing a portable scanner to check out John.

An hour later, John was thankful that Carson didn’t have to pry into exactly where he had touched Elizabeth. If he had been truthful, they would have both blushed.

He stood in the room, separated from Elizabeth by plastic sheeting, as Beckett and McKay scoured over the computer screens, their attention fully on her.

John breathed in to try and calm himself. “What’ve you got, Doc?”

Behind him, Carson sighed. “It’s gettin’ worse.” As John turned to look at the two doctors, Carson’s reply confirmed his fears. “It’s not just her brain anymore. They’re spreading throughout her body.” Glumly, he turned to look back at John. “We’re losing her.”

Nodding in defeated understanding, John couldn’t help but turn back to the sight of Elizabeth, laying helplessly in the isolated bed with a nasal canula helping to supply her oxygen. He felt conflicted and guilty. Why was it that he got off clean, but Elizabeth had to pay the price?

He crossed his arms. He didn’t like feeling helpless; he was a man of action, not one to sit back and watch as something he couldn’t even see took over the body of someone so close to him.

His hazel eyes glared through the plastic tent, willing with all his might that her familiar eyes would open, that this was just a snafu that was easily fixed.

But nothing happened.

For once in his life, John Sheppard didn’t know what to do. And it scared the hell out of him.

Hee hee.

Wonderful story, SW!!!

[ShipperWriter]

I'm going to project here a bit, but as someone who is as bad if not worse than John about expressing his feelings that was absolutely going to be something personal.

For me the Good Ship Sparky didn't set sail during The Storm/The Eye but more like dropped ancor and dared anybody to deny it.

I agree with you there. I was rewatching "Sateda" and there's a scene where John and Teyla are in the mess on the Daedalus, and John is clamming up when he's trying to explain how much he cares for them, how they're really the only family he has. And of course, since Teyla is psychic and she's read the script beforehand, she's correctly guessing all his answers. Compare that with any of his conversations with Elizabeth ... was there ever a time he was at a loss for words? Not that I can remember.

Anyhow, I was reading on stargate wikia earlier cause I was bored and quoted this. This is from the entry for Elizabeth Weir, under "Relationships", subheading "John Sheppard":

Sheppard was clearly deeply affected by Elizabeth's loss when he was forced to leave her behind on Asuras, and his grief when he learned that she was dead- having first heard a second-hand account from the Organic Asuran duplicates of his team and subsequently witnessing her return and sacrifice to defeat the remaining Asurans- was particularly pronounced, hinting at the strong bond between them that was never given the chance to develop into something more.

Well, they're on the right track, but hinting??? Nuh uh.

My 1,300th post!!! Yippee!!!

[ShipperWriter]

Wonderful story, SW!!!

Thank you, mandogater!

All right, an oldie but a goodie. Anybody wanna caption it???