| Nothing Important Happened Today 0726 It's going to be a bad day. Elizabeth knows this because she has yet to even open her eyes and already there is a dull headache throbbing just above her brow. It only worsens as she raises her head to look at the clock, and Elizabeth indulges in a soft moan when she realizes that she has only half an hour to get ready for her first briefing of the day � her alarm didn't sound. It's going to be a bad day. 0759 Elizabeth slides into her seat, just barely beating McKay, who's the last to arrive. She takes a sip of her coffee � a breakfast substitute this morning � and can't stop herself from making a face as the liquid hits her tongue. Not only is it already lukewarm but it's very weak, like almost-flavoured water. It means one of three things: one, it's the last of the java; two, it's not Earth coffee at all but a Pegasus galaxy variant; or three, Sergeant Murphy has been drafted to help out in the mess hall again. In any case, it means that she's not getting any coffee this morning. A quick glance around the room tells Elizabeth that John is the only one who saw her less-than-professional slip, though he does nothing more than raise a questioning eyebrow; Rodney is fussing with his laptop, Teyla watching over his shoulder, and Ford is� staring blankly into space. Her wandering gaze stops on the young man and Elizabeth watches him even as Rodney begins recapping the reason the team is going off-world today. The lieutenant's eyes are glassy and unfocussed, and even from across the table she can see the faint tremble of his hand as he raises it to his mouth to cover a cough. "Are you alright, Lieutenant?" she asks, frowning, not caring that she's interrupted Rodney in the middle of a sentence. Ford straightens in his chair as the other three members of his team look over at him. "Yes ma'am." Elizabeth narrows her eyes. "I'd like to hear that from Dr. Beckett. Head down to the infirmary. Major," she turns to address John, "your mission is postponed until Lieutenant Ford's been checked out. Until then, you're all dismissed." Rodney looks annoyed, but that's a common enough occurrence that she ignores him. Teyla and John flank Ford, presumably to escort him to the infirmary. Elizabeth escapes to her office, where she has a bottle of aspirin hidden away to help with her headache. 0843 "It appears that Lieutenant Ford is suffering from nothing more than the common cold," Beckett informs her, John, and Teyla; they are gathered around Ford, who is sitting miserably on a gurney. "But since they were all off-world just two days ago, I'd recommend that Major Sheppard's entire team remain on Atlantis for the next few days, as a precaution." John's eyes flick from her to Carson and back again. "We don't have to stay in the infirmary, do we?" "No, Major. I'd simply rather not risk any of you falling ill away from Atlantis, just in case." "Major, I'm postponing your mission until Dr. Beckett clears you all for off-world duty." John doesn't look too happy about being grounded but at least he doesn't complain. Her head is still pounding and she's in no mood to argue with him. "I'll let McKay know. I'm sure he'll be happy enough playing with Ancient technology for a few days." Elizabeth nods. "I'll be in my office if you need me." 0907 "Elizabeth?" She raises her head to see John standing in the doorway. "I brought you tea," he says, looking a little embarrassed, and Elizabeth smiles for the first time that day. "Thank you," she says appreciatively, accepting the mug. She inhales the spicy scent before taking a sip, closing her eyes and sighing blissfully. It's really good tea; Athosian, if she's not mistaken. "I needed that," she says, opening her eyes just in time to see him place a small plate on her desk. "Cookies?" she asks, looking at them with interest. "Chocolate chip," he confirms. "The last chocolate chips on Atlantis, as a matter of fact, so enjoy them while they last." She smiles again. "Thank you," she repeats, amused when he glances away. "No problem. I'll see you later." He tosses her a half-wave as he passes through the door. Elizabeth turns back to her laptop, reaching for a cookie. 1115 Bates' report is, as always, short and to the point, something for which Elizabeth is very grateful. Mostly it's just an update on Atlantis' security details; the only thing that requires her approval is his suggestion that non-military personnel be trained in some self-defence basics. "Just in case," Bates explains. "You never know when there might be an incident here on Atlantis or if someone might be required off-world." "He's got a point," John seconds, though unnecessarily � she's already decided to approve the request. "It might even be a good idea to train them on how to use firearms." "Agreed." John looks surprised that she acquiesces so easily and she wonders if he expected her to put up a fight. "Draw up a schedule with proposed instructors and get back to me. Anything else?" Both men shake their heads and she stands. "Dismissed." Bates nods as he passes by, but John lingers. "You do realize that you'll have to take the self-defence classes too, right?" he asks with a glint in his eye, as though he finds the possibility amusing. "Are you volunteering?" she tosses back without missing a beat. He looks taken aback by her easy acceptance. "Sure," he says, falling into step beside her as she leaves the briefing room. "1400? Training room on the east side?" "See you there," she says casually, and grins to herself when his self-assured smile slips the tiniest bit at her nonchalant tone. 1252 "Heads up!" Elizabeth looks up just in time to catch the football that's sailing straight at her. In front of her, John is grinning unabashedly, while Sergeant Murphy � apparently the intended target of the football now cradled in the crook of her elbow � is coming toward her, looking mortified. "Sorry, Dr. Weir." "Hey, where'd you learn to catch like that?" John asks, moving closer. "Large family," she informs him. "Brothers, uncles, cousins. We get together every summer for a game." She feels a brief pang of nostalgia; back on Earth, it must be approaching July. She tosses the ball to Murphy. "Take it to a less public hallway," is all she says, and manages to keep the smile provoked by John's snappy salute and "Yes, ma'am!" off her face until she's around the corner. 1433 It takes nearly half an hour but John finally has her pinned to the mat in the training room. Elizabeth doesn't mind; she knows that she's not good enough to take him and that she managed to hold her own for so long surprises her. She hopes he wasn't going easy on her, but the way he's panting for breath above her makes her think that's probably not the case. John collapses onto his back by her side and they lie quietly, catching their breath. Eventually she rolls onto her side, propping herself up on one arm so she can look down at him. "Still think I need to take the self-defence training?" "Point taken," he concedes, and Elizabeth tries not to look too smug. He jumps easily to his feet � she has to wonder how he still has that much energy � and holds out a hand. Elizabeth takes it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. "Dare I ask about your shooting ability?" "Passable, but not great," she admits. She's not especially fond of guns and hasn't so much as touched one outside of a firing range. Only the nature of her career and her few months as commander of the SGC ensured that she's kept fairly up-to-date with her weapons training. "Maybe we can work on it," he offers, releasing her hand, and she nods. "Maybe." She doesn't say anything else and he lets the subject drop. "Lunch?" he suggests, reaching for a towel. "I've already eaten." It had helped with her headache, too, which is all but gone now. "Raincheck?" He smiles. "Sure." He tosses her a bottle of water and she swallows a few mouthfuls before they gather their things and head for their respective quarters so they can shower. 1611 "Rodney?" McKay's head snaps up from the various alien devices littering his workstation. "Elizabeth!" he exclaims. He sounds surprised to see her, as if he weren't the one who'd paged her a few minutes ago, asking her to come by. "Come here." He waves her closer and Elizabeth approaches the table cautiously. "One of the exploration teams found this yesterday," Rodney tells her, holding up a perfectly round sphere that looks like it's made out of some kind of shiny metal. "What does it do?" "Huh? Oh, we don't know yet. But look at the writing." He hands her the metal ball. It's lighter than she expects and covered with what she assumes is some sort of alien script. She can't decipher any of the words or even tell in which direction the writing should be read. "So what does it say?" "We don't know that either." He must see her impatience because he rushes to explain. "That's why it caught our attention. It's not Ancient or any derivative of their language from what any of us can tell. So what's it doing in an Ancient lab?" Suddenly Elizabeth is much more interested in the device. "Are you sure it's safe?" she asks, recalling the nanovirus that claimed the lives of five of her expedition team. They still don't know who created it. "Of course." Rodney pauses, blinks, and seems to reassess his answer. "Well, as sure as we can be considering that we don't have the slightest idea what it is." Elizabeth fights the urge to roll her eyes. "Just be careful, okay?" she requests. A small crack on the surface of the ball catches her attention and she runs her thumb over it, surprised when the words surrounding the thin line begin to glow a faint blue. "Rodney?" she asks, holding it up. "What does this mean?" "Hmmm?" He looks up from his computer screen and frowns. "I don't know. It's never done that before. What did you do?" "Nothing!" she protests, almost defensively, and then notices something new. "It's humming." "What?" "It's humming. Can't you hear it?" The hum is starting to become a whine, an ever-increasing high-pitched reverberation that reminds her of something that's about to overload. She's about to put it down when the ball sparks, burning her hand. "Ow!" she yelps, reflexively dropping the sphere as she cradles her injured left hand to her chest. Only belatedly does she realize that perhaps dropping a piece of alien technology to the floor is not the best of ideas, but the ball seems none the worse for wear as it sits innocently next to Rodney's worktable. "Elizabeth!" Rodney is next to her in a matter of seconds. "Are you okay?" She pulls her hand away from her chest and examines the palm, which now bears a bright red welt. It still hurts. "Nothing that won't heal," she says optimistically, then reconsiders the source of her injury. "Just confirm that I'm not going to be taken over by an extraterrestrial consciousness or something, okay?" She's read the SGC mission reports. Cantaloupe-sized alien metal spheres are not to be trusted. "Yes, yes, of course. Kisuni!" he yells right next to her ear, and Elizabeth flinches. "Get working on that thing." He points to the object on the floor. "I'll be back soon. Have something for me by then. You." He's pointing at Elizabeth now. "Infirmary. Now. That's a bad burn." She raises an eyebrow, amused. "Whatever you say, Rodney." 1637 Carson is wrapping her hand in soft white gauze. "Keep it clean and dry for the next several days," he instructs. "Come check in with me in two days so I can make sure it's not infected." "Yes, Carson," she agrees placidly � she's learned that she's likely to get out of here faster if she just agrees to whatever he says � and turns to the man hovering nearby. "You see, Rodney? Everything's fine." He looks slightly reassured. "If you're sure, then I'll head back to the lab and figure out what that thing is." She waves a hand. "Go." 1922 Despite her injured hand Elizabeth manages to get on top of most of the reports in her inbox. She might even take half a day tomorrow and join the exploration team as they continue to map the unused sections of the city. She needs to get out of her office for a little while, away from the never-ending paperwork. Elizabeth heads for the mess hall; she hasn't eaten in several hours and not only is she starving but her on-again, off-again headache has returned. She's just sitting down at a table when she sees John enter the room, limping slightly. She waves him over and he nods, pointing at the line to indicate that he's getting some food, and she nods back and starts to eat her dinner. "What happened to your hand?" he asks as he slides into the seat across from her. "Rodney." He doesn't seem to require any further explanation, and she gestures at his ankle. "What about you?" "Teyla." He grimaces and she grins; the whole city knows about their sparring matches and it's no secret that John routinely gets his ass kicked by the Athosian woman. It's something of a source of pride to the female military personnel, and the basis for at least three betting pools that Elizabeth (unofficially) knows about. "I had a thought," John says, pointing his fork at her, and Elizabeth opens her mouth to say something but, really, it's too easy. She prefers a challenge. He continues, oblivious. Perhaps deliberately so. "Have you noticed how restless everyone is lately?" he asks, and Elizabeth nods, thinking of her own half-formed plan to go exploring tomorrow. "I think we've all been stuck on Atlantis too long. We need a break, spend a day over on the mainland. I think people need to get away from the city." The thought of walking on soil, of feeling the heat of the sun, of being surrounded by foliage, is infinitely more appealing than trekking through endless grey corridors. "That's a good idea," she agrees, wondering why no one thought of it before now. "We'd have to do it over several days so we can send people in shifts." She raises an eyebrow. "And we only have a handful of pilots with the ATA gene. You'd have to shuttle personnel back and forth each day." "We'll do it." He waves away her concerns. "So is that a yes?" She smiles. "That's a yes." He grins back at her. "Good, because I've already been setting up a football tournament." He points at her again. "I'm drafting you for my team." She really should be annoyed by his assumption that she would approve his idea, but somehow she's not. She must be getting used to his ability to read her and talk her into things. Elizabeth thinks maybe she ought to be concerned about that. "You've never even seen me play." "I've seen enough," he asserts, and Elizabeth decides not to argue. It won't be the same as her annual family get-together but it sounds like fun nonetheless. They finish their meals mostly in silence. She's on her feet and ready to leave when John asks what her plans are for the evening. "Nothing much," she replies; she had vague plans of reading but she's not really in the mood now. "I heard a couple people have a viewing marathon going on in the rec room and was thinking of stopping by to see if they're showing anything good. Interested?" How her expedition members even had time to coordinate among themselves to bring such a large selection of movies and TV shows on their hard drives is still something of a mystery to Elizabeth. Last she's heard, they have close to thirty movies and several hundred episodes of assorted programs, all high quality. A compression program of Rodney's had, apparently, given them more space to store the files and they have since all been transferred to Atlantis' mainframe in order to be accessible to anyone who wants to watch. "Sounds good," Elizabeth tells him. It can't hurt to see what's playing; if it's truly bad, she doesn't have to stay. She sits back down and waits for him to finish eating. 2027 The so-called rec room is fairly full when they arrive. There had originally been only a couch and an Ancient version of a big-screen TV when they first arrived on Atlantis, but over the past several months it has since acquired two more couches, a dozen mismatched chairs, and a handful of mattresses strewn across the floor, doubtlessly "borrowed" from unoccupied quarters. Most of the tables are empty crates turned upside down. Her team is nothing if not resourceful. After a few seconds of watching the screen Elizabeth is able to identify the show as an episode of The X-Files. She's not a huge fan of the series but enjoys watching it occasionally, so she decides to stay. John pulls rank and kicks a couple of Marines off one of the couches, and they grumble good-naturedly as they find a new place to sit. Elizabeth gives him a disapproving look but sits in the newly vacated spot. John gracelessly drops down beside her, making the couch bounce. The room is filled with random commentary from the people gathered there, discussing everything from how this episode fits with previous ones to plot holes to out-and-out errors. There's an occasional entreaty of, "Quiet! This is the best part!" but mostly everyone seems content to let people talk their way through the show. Elizabeth settles herself into the couch, her arm and thigh pressed comfortably against John's, her head resting against the back of the sofa, her gaze alternating between the screen and the group scattered throughout the room. She smiles at some of the comments and friendly ribbing and enjoys the occasional burst of laughter. It's not often that she gets to see her people so relaxed and she finds it relieves a bit of the tension she's unknowingly been carrying around with her. She makes it through two and a half episodes before the day catches up with her. The chatter has died down to an intermittent murmur and Elizabeth can feel herself drifting off, sinking into the couch and leaning more heavily against John as her body succumbs to sleep. Just for a moment she thinks she feels his hand, gentle and warm, on her knee. Not such a bad day after all, is her last thought. --end-- back to Atlantis fanfic |