Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard Appreciation/Ship/Discussion Thread

[Anuna]

by all means, please, enjoy your ship. I'm sincerely happy for those that will get a dose of thier favorite pairing. And perhaps someone was talking about joe's blog...and if they were then i do sincerely apologize. But if someone was talking about going into the anti shep/weir thread just to 'get into a rant mood' then that's a bit OTT adn doing nothing but fueling the fire, so to speak.

Hey Sky,

I don't think any of us has been visiting anti - our - ship threads. We are too busy squeeing and being nervous.

[Skydiver]

there were comments earlier today about visiting the 'nuthouse' and how folks did read it just to get in a rant mood.

As i said, upon reading it again, maybe they were talking about joe's blog...and then i do have to agree, that IS a nuthouse. And a site that i don't even visit.

However, it could also be read as visiting the anti thread. Which is how i read it on my first reading. If i was wrong, then i'm sorry.

[Fionnait]

by all means, please, enjoy your ship. I'm sincerely happy for those that will get a dose of thier favorite pairing. And perhaps someone was talking about joe's blog...and if they were then i do sincerely apologize. But if someone was talking about going into the anti shep/weir thread just to 'get into a rant mood' then that's a bit OTT adn doing nothing but fueling the fire, so to speak.

Hm, we were talking about Anti-Weir posts on Joe's Blog earlier, but I don't think anybody's been going over to the Anti-Threat to intentionally read Anti-comments... Sorry to anybody who misunderstood that conversation. Everybody has a right to his/her opinion and for a place to voice it.

Hey Sky,

I don't think any of us has been visiting anti - our - ship threads. We are too busy squeeing and being nervous.

Exactly. Busy squeeing.




Sparkys in the Anti-Threat???



BACK TO SQUEE MODE, FOLKS!

[Celcool]

by all means, please, enjoy your ship. I'm sincerely happy for those that will get a dose of thier favorite pairing. And perhaps someone was talking about joe's blog...and if they were then i do sincerely apologize. But if someone was talking about going into the anti shep/weir thread just to 'get into a rant mood' then that's a bit OTT adn doing nothing but fueling the fire, so to speak.

Nothing like that happened, I'm pretty sure. So why did we have to get yelled at when we're enjoying ourselves anticipating the sparky reunion?

A little more than 5 hours to go!

[Skydiver]

then i read it wrong, and i'm sorry.

back to your squeeing

[Anuna]

I think it was about Joe's blog. there are brave souls among us here.



J: God how I missed you!




J: I'm stealing you away! Come on!!!

[Southern Red]

there were comments earlier today about visiting the 'nuthouse' and how folks did read it just to get in a rant mood.

As i said, upon reading it again, maybe they were talking about joe's blog...and then i do have to agree, that IS a nuthouse. And a site that i don't even visit.

However, it could also be read as visiting the anti thread. Which is how i read it on my first reading. If i was wrong, then i'm sorry.

You misread. Thank you for your prompt attention. We are making the best of possibly the end of our ship forever. We choose to go out fighting. By that I mean we are going to go into that infamous blog and politely with conviction state our feelings about TMC. We are also encouraging others to post our personal thoughts on the episode thread. Everyone is going to be courteous, intelligent and mature. As 99.9% of us have always been. As far as I know we have been ignoring the existence of any other shipper group and probably will continue to do so.

It's the people lurking on here hoping to find something to report us about who are beneath contempt.

[Anuna]

And may I add, our ship might end on screen but not in our hearts.

[Fionnait]

Does anyone know how long it usually takes for new eps to be up at iTunes?

[mcat]

Wow, there are a lot of people on here right now.

Here, everyone, have some mints.

Oh, wait, those ones are for John & Liz.

Here we go.

[Wormhole]

by all means, please, enjoy your ship. I'm sincerely happy for those that will get a dose of thier favorite pairing. And perhaps someone was talking about joe's blog...and if they were then i do sincerely apologize. But if someone was talking about going into the anti shep/weir thread just to 'get into a rant mood' then that's a bit OTT adn doing nothing but fueling the fire, so to speak.

Already forgotten, now… where did I leave my piece of cake.



Is the excitement over yet?



Nope, still over four-five hours left.
*Passes out again.*

[Celcool]

Thanks mcat, I'm gonna have one mint.

Sparky can't be over just cuz these PTB have decided so. They have long lost all their credibility, any decent producer would do everything to exploit that amazing chemistry between Torri and Joe, it's rare, especially when it doesn't need much help from the writing to be that noticable, we're the biggest M/F ship on Atlantis here on GW and LJ, the poll proves it, it's the power of Sparky!

[Anuna]

Ditto to that, mcat!

I have a gift for ya all. Unbetad I'm afraid. I still hope you'll enjoy it. SR, this is what your prompt made me write. Have hankies at the ready.


Part one:

Spoiler:

“Miracles”

He stares in awe.

In his whole life he had never seen something quite like this. The figures above his head in amazing bright colors; they dance across the ceiling and over the walls, telling their stories with power and grace. For a moment he is sure he won’t be able to breathe ever again. It feels like his heart stopped beating for a moment or two.

“I take you like them?”

His mother crouches beside him, watching the face of her then year old son. He simply nods. His sister is running around, glancing towards the ceiling from time to time. When she stops next to him, he takes her small hand in his, pointing towards the painting of God touching Adam’s hand.

“Don’t you like them, Susie?” he asks, aware of the people inside the chapel, of their hushed voices and languages he never heard before. He can feel his mother’s eyes upon them. All those sensations. He wants the time to stop, so he could look at this giant canvas forever.

“How did he paint them?” asks Susie. Their mother starts explaining, something about Michelangelo, the painter, using a big platform and lying on his back while he painted. John doesn’t hear the words. He observes in wonder, for this is the most amazing thing he ever saw.

John Sheppard is ten years old.

Later that day his mom buys ice creams for three of them. It is late summer and the school will start in only two weeks. But right now time stands still for him and he is happy.

John is incredibly surprised that his mother decided to take him and his sister to Italy. She said she wanted them to see something special. Something to remember.

They are sitting next to the Fountain Di Trevi and he observes the water with fascination. Susie is chasing pigeons. He observes his mother and her calm hazel eyes. He observes a lot. She seems thoughtful.

“Mom?”

“Yes, love?”

“That was fantastic,” he sighs asking about the painter. He wants to know more about him. His mother tells him about his paintings and sculptures. His mother seems to know about so many things. “It’s like a miracle,” he says. His mother smiles.

“Do you like the fountain, John?” she asks. He nods. The ice cream runs down his fingers. The story about Michelangelo was far too interesting and he forgot about his ice cream. His mother stands up after wiping his fingers clean with a tissue; and then takes place at his side, hugging him from behind, resting her chin in his shiny black hair. “Do you like the water?”

“It’s sparkling,” he says. Sun rays reflect in droplets and for a moment he can see a rainbow. With excitement he looks at his mother. She kisses the top of his head.

“Remember my love,” she looks at him as if he was the whole universe. “Miracles are simple.”

John doesn’t know his mother borrowed the money for the trip from his father. He doesn’t know he will live with his father in less than a year.

He doesn’t know about his mother disease, and he doesn’t know she will die in less than a year.

oOo


He watches Elizabeth with worry plaguing his thoughts.

He never asked what happened but he senses something is over for her. She had to put something behind. John doesn’t know for sure, but he is smart enough to make a fair guess. Her eyes look heart broken and something inside of him tightens every time he catches her off guard, without the usual mask.

Today he drags her out to the balcony to observe the sea and share early morning coffee. He tells her she works too much. She laughs. He knows she needs it.

“Don’t you ever have fun?” he asks and she is smiling at him above the rim of her coffee cup, and something funny happens to his stomach.

Maybe he watches her too much, too often. He knows when she is too tired, too worried, too anything. He knows the way her curls frame her face and he knows her bright green eyes darken when she is sad.

“I do,” she replies and a smile escapes to her face. He smiles back.

“Oh like what? Playing solitaire on your laptop when you think nobody is watching?”

She gives him a pout and he thinks her eyes look beautiful.

He is a careful observer. Nobody knows he enjoys painting – Rembrandt, DaVinci, Vermeer, Dali. But Michelangelo is his favorite. He wonders if she ever saw Sistine Chapel. He is pretty sure she has. She probably knows lot more about painting, just like his mother did.

He realizes again how much he admires her, and wishes there was something he could do for her. Her eyes wander towards the water, and her face turns thoughtful again. He wants to give her something to enjoy, something to keep in memory. Something to make her happy. Something to remember.

Suddenly he has an idea.

“If you’re up to it, I can show you real fun,” he is tempting her with his best flyboy charm and puppy dog face. Sometimes she can resist him, sometimes she can’t. He never knows if he will succeed in his attempts to charm her.

She looks away from the water and turns her eyes back at him.

“Oh really?” her voice is soft but she is challenging him back.

“Oh yes,” he says and extends his hand. “You coming?”

She watches him and for a moment his heart stops. He doesn’t know why, it’s not like he is in tenth grade again and asking Caroline Dylan out. Maybe it’s because of the way she looks at him. There is something fragile inside her gaze and he wishes he could reach out and make everything better.

He realizes how much he doesn’t know about her, and at this moment he is afraid to ask.

And then she smiles and he can breathe again.

He flies them to the Mainland in a jumper. It’s a sunny day and he takes her to beach. He has to blackmail her, threatening he will hide all the coffee and make sure nobody smuggles any of it in science labs if she doesn’t wear her bathing suit. She goes to jumper to change into the bathing suit. He promptly drags her towards the water.

When she is done with giggling and shrieking he stops splashing her with fresh sea water and gets ready to give her the very first lesson in surfing.

She is naturally graceful, but she slips from the surfing board many times, drowning him under the water in the process. Every time her skin touches his, something flutters inside of him. They don’t surf much, but at the end of the day both are tired and happy.

They spend the evening watching the sunset over the ocean, vibrant colors bleeding across the water.

She stares as if this sunset is the most beautiful thing she ever saw.

“Did you have fun?” he asks. Her face is calm, her smile is sincere. Her eyes are bright when she looks back at him and removes an errand lock of hair from her face. For a moment she is looking at him as if he was the single ting in the universe. For a moment time stops.

“I did, she says and before he realizes, she leans over and plants a kiss on his cheek. His heart stops for the second time today, and he remembers that miracles are simple.


oOo

Five moons hang above this ocean but he can see only three of them.

It’s Christmas Eve and he isn’t sober. He isn’t drunk either. He is somewhere in between, torn, split into a half.

He is alone.

He lifts his gaze towards the skies and thinks of Sistine Chapel. He would love to see it again. He wishes he’d done that with Elizabeth.

She would like these moons and these stars. He is sure about that. She would enjoy standing here, at her balcony, looking at the moons. They are beautiful sight, shedding pale light over the gentle sky, but he can’t see the miracle.

He remembers what his mother told him, and he calls her voice from his memory, but it seems that his miracle is gone.

A door slides open and slow footsteps near him. He turns around. Teyla is smiling at him, but her eyes are worried. Her stomach is heavy and prominent and Jen said she will give birth within a month. She is walking slowly towards him, hugging her unborn child with one hand. She reaches for him with the other.

He briefly squeezes her hand. For several minutes they share comfortable silence.

“I must admit I expected to find you at the party,” she says still looking at the stars. “I don’t think I will ever get used to multiple moons.”

He shrugs. For a moment he doesn’t want to speak.

“I guess I’m not in the right mood to listen to Rodney’s singing,” he says in casual tone, aware that his mask is useless in front of Teyla. She glances over at him and her eyes seem to know everything.

She rubs her stomach.

“He is getting better with every year that passes. Last year…,” she stops and John knows why. Suddenly the silence is loaded with emotion he doesn’t know how to handle. He keeps staring towards the stars, and his hands are clutching the railing.

“So how are you?” he asks. She lowers her eyes. That is also a wrong topic, but it seems there aren’t many right topics in sight.

“Jen told me it’s a girl,” she says and John turns in surprise to observe her face.

“What made you change your mind?”

Teyla shrugged.

“I realized I could pick a name before my child is born. And so many people keep suggesting names,” she smiled with hint of sadness.

“Just don’t call her Meredith,” says John and he is almost able to grin over his own joke, but then Teyla’s face turns completely serious.

“I know a perfect name,” she says. “I will call her Elizabeth.”

For a moment John’s mind clears up and the wine he’s been drinking disappears from his blood. Something heavy settles in his heart and he realizes he probably lost her – forever. Teyla reaches for his hand again and looks at him with sadness.

“I know what is that you have lost. Because I have lost the same,” she says quietly and lets go of his hand, wiping away a tear.

His heart is heavy and his tongue feels weird in his mouth when he tries to speak. There is strange tight feeling in his throat.

“I think Elizabeth would be honored,” he says.

Frustration is good for writing.

There's a SECOND part to this!!!

[Anuna]

Part two.

Spoiler:

The valley is covered with snow. It’s dark and cold and his breath turns into white mist right in front of his face. The animal below him is walking slowly and carefully, and he holds onto horse’s mane.

The other horse and his rider are lot quicker and far more graceful. Maybe her horse can feel she has confidence. Maybe his horse can feel he doesn’t.

And she certainly didn’t lose that unique grace that came without effort, despite everything she’s been through.

She is talking about her childhood and laughing and turning around at times to smile at him and his clumsiness. He could fly just about anything but he never rode a horse before. Luckily for him, this animal has patience of a saint.

The sky looks like Van Gogh’s painting and her laughter echoes the silent valley covered with snow. Her cousin had no problem in talking her into midnight ride, and ever since they got her back, John wasn’t ready to leave her side if it was humanly possible.

He knows she would complain before everything, she would even tell him she can handle things herself. But she doesn’t and he is happy to follow her around.

His horse follows Elizabeth’s horse, following the path in the fresh snow. The pale moonlight is reflected in white surface and the world feels so peaceful. His ass hurts but he ignores the pain. His heart is so full, he can barely speak, but Elizabeth does it for both of them.

He never saw her like this – open and simple, happy and unguarded – and he treasures this moment, wishing he could make the time stop.

Then she pulls her horse to a halt and waits for him to join her. They are standing on the edge of the wood and there is one single moon above their heads. She laughs gently and her breath is frozen in thin air, caught in the moment of time. She turns around and looks at him, green eyes twinkling with something he can’t describe. Whatever it is, it makes his heart stop beating for a moment.

He didn’t have that feeling in a very long time.

She reaches out her hand and their fingers connect. His hand is cold, but hers is warm. He watches her fingers linking with his own and then he gazes into her eyes, and it feels like eternity, like universe, like everything he knows is inside her eyes.

“You okay?” she asks and the words sound a bit strange coming from her mouth. They brought her back home, but he is the one who’s been rescued.

He nods.

“Miracles… are simple,” he blurts out and she smiles.

“Where did that come from?” she asks surprised, and he holds her eyes and her hand. His fingers start to get warmer, like life seeping back into his body.

“That’s something my mom told me long time ago,” he says still looking into her eyes, realizing finally what is that he has found.

oOo

“How did he paint all that?”

Alexander is five years old and he doesn’t stop shooting questions. His eyes are large and full of wonder as he stares at the ceiling above his head.

John knows exactly how his son is feeling.

He starts explaining – all about big platform and Michelangelo lying on his back and how he insisted to paint the whole ceiling. He shows Alex his favorite painting – The creation of Adam. The boy frowns a little and asks why Adam is so naked. His mother arrives at that moment.

“My two favorite guys in the universe,” she says, placing a kiss into Alex’ curly dark hair and then kisses her husband.

“Our favorite girl in the universe,” replies John.

Alex keeps asking questions and both of them are answering best to their knowledge. After they leave Sistine Chapel, Alex keeps talking, the impressions pouring out in excited comments. Elizabeth says she would like an ice cream. John asks her if she would like to see Fountain Di Trevi. She agrees.

He lifts Alex onto his shoulders, risking the ice cream in his hair. Its late summer and the world moves slowly around them.

Some time later he observes his son running around, chasing pigeons just like Susie used to do. He promises himself he will visit his sister one of these days, before their leave is over.

Elizabeth sits next to him, leaning with her back against him and he leans his chin into her hair, and for a moment the world is peaceful and the time seems to stop. He closes his eyes and Elizabeth fills his senses. He can hear Alex laughing and calling them. He opens his eyes and watches the fountain, the water. A small rainbow appears and among shiny droplets he can see reflection of his mother’s face.

She was right. Miracles are simple.

Was that good, SR?

[Fionnait]

I have a gift for ya all. Unbetad I'm afraid. I still hope you'll enjoy it. SR, this is what your prompt made me write. Have hankies at the ready.

Just because I said I suck and have no idea about punctuation doesn't mean I won't beta at all, if you can't find a native speaker! *sulks*

But very lovely story, as always!