prowler_pilot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
prowler_pilot) wrote2006-01-18 01:25 am
prowler_pilot) wrote2006-01-18 01:25 am
Entry tags:
My Weir muse grabbed a P-90 and threatened me...
Title: Framed thoughts
Rating: PG
Classification: Weir introspection
Pairings: implied Sam/Jack, and as always, you're welcome to read Shep/Weir UST if you want.
Word count: 2210
Spoilers: Episode 2x02, ‘the intruder’
Summary: Frames, as well as hearts, should never be empty.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters or the city of Atlantis.
Author’s notes: This started as a Weir/Beckett post The Intruder ficlet. Then I thought that John fitted better in the story, so John it was. And then my attempt to plunge into Liz’s mind took unexpected turns which resulted in this fic being twice as long as I had planned.
To![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
alittletoolate, because she wonders how Weir thinks, too. And because she is who she is. I'll get you some p0rn in the future, hon. Just not now, because I would psychoanalize that, too, and I don't think that'd be good.
***
The door to Elizabeth Weir’s quarters opened with a sharp hiss and she took a single, long step inside.
Long enough to get her out of the range of the door sensors, and short enough to give her an adequate view of the room in its entirety.
Her gaze roamed the small space as she quickly re-accustomed herself to the sober, practical environment and the shades of blue and grey that dominated the Ancient architecture.
Everything was exactly how she had left it a month ago, a light layer of dust on the scarce furniture and her few belongings the only indication that she had ever been away.
One eyebrow rose warily at the thought of the extra work, and the first sigh since she had been greeted by her people on the East pier found its way to her lips.
She dumped her luggage on her bed, relieved in noticing that someone had been kind enough to provide fresh linen and moved over to her desk, not before she threw a longing look at the inviting pillow.
She would have to remember to plan her sleeping patterns on the Daedalus for her next return trip to Atlantis; as for now, she will have to deal with being one of the first humans to suffer interplanetary jet-lag.
Although she had a vague idea that the life threatening situation they found themselves in aboard the ship had probably more to do with her being totally devoid of energies than lack of sleep.
She picked up her PDA, feeling its familiar weight in her hands, while her eyes travelled a little, hesitantly, to the right.
The small display of pictures she had brought with her when she left for what she believed was going to be a one-way trip stared back at her from within their wooden frames: her dead parents; her and Sedge…
She smiled at the thought of her dog, relieved that she had left her in good hands after Simon had stated that Sedge was too much of a remainder of their relationship for him to keep her. She had appreciated the honesty, and the fact that she hadn’t come back to find her loved pet in a kennel.
General O’Neill himself had very enthusiastically offered to take care of Sedge, earning an eye-roll and an affectionate smile from Colonel Carter. Maybe she would be happy to be back in Washington. More likely she would miss the large backyard and the sharp scent of Colorado firs.
Elizabeth replaced the device on the desk and picked up the last photo, the one featuring her and Simon in a bar in Teheran, the time he’d wound up at the American Embassy during one of her longest stays abroad.
No matter how much she wanted to walk back to the Control Room, resume her duties and happily ignore the issue, the better-knowing part of her kept her rooted to the place.
There was no need of a Ph.D in Diplomatic Relations to know that issues, whatever their relative grade of importance, should never be left unsolved. It took one to be fully aware of the consequences that could be expected from the deliberate neglecting of said concerns.
Still, the temptation to turn and walk away was there. As zealous as she was in her work, she couldn’t say the same about her personal life.
Procrastination and indecision surfaced at times, familiar and somewhat liberating, and she would bask in them until she felt ready to be herself again.
Atlantis had denied her of these precious moments, and while a part of her felt empowered by the loss of the apparent weakness, the other was painfully aware of the growing confusion in her head. New, unknown fears, all she didn’t understand of Atlantis, close calls and questionable decisions that criss-crossed in her mind into an inextricable cobweb.
Elizabeth truly hoped that lack of time was an acceptable excuse for ignoring. She highly doubted it. She also told herself she wasn’t taking that path in her subconscious again, and that maybe sanity involved ignoring things sometimes.
She was getting an headache over something that had very little to do with the reason why she was standing at her desk with the corner of a picture frame digging into her palm, the wheels in her head turning so fast that the thought of it made her dizzy, and she wished, once again, that she had been gifted with a mathematical talent.
She knew she couldn’t isolate and give a name to every nuance she saw in a painting. That didn’t stop her from trying anyway.
She tapped the picture impatiently against her free palm, as if pondering over what to make of it.
She didn’t blame him.
She had explicitly told him to stop putting his life on hold for her on that recorded message.
A message that he shouldn’t have received more than a month before she had stepped back on Earth and into his arms.
Mathematics might not have been her forte like she sometimes wanted, but Elizabeth knew how to do 2 and 2 and get a 4.
She didn’t know which one of the two possibilities disturbed her the most, that he had jumped in bed with someone else the moment she gave him the green light, or that he’d done it much earlier, when he was still a constant in her thoughts and a rock to cling to in low moments.
She idly wondered if he’d ever cheated on her while she fought to have truces signed and prisoners released.
She was angry at him for having greeted her, kissed her and made love to her as if nothing had changed, as if it had been one of her usual assignments.
Mainly, she was angry at herself and at her presumptuous, or just hopeful belief that things could really be back as they were before, when she perfectly knew *she* for first, wasn’t the same woman that had left Earth over an year earlier.
For one foolish moment, she had had her guard down, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and sensations as she found herself on her homeworld again. And she had ended up paying for it with her humiliation.
She should have expected it.
Her direct experience and knowledge of men and romantic affairs was devastatingly limited, but the number of broken hearts she had been there to mend in high school, university, and various Embassies at the four corners of the planet spoke volumes.
Elizabeth was a silent learner, watching from afar and processing everything her brain came in contact with.
Thoroughly aware of the volubility that characterized the human kind, she had mastered her understanding of that trait and her innate skills to twist it to her advantage.
Yet, she had never stopped walking on eggshells around the people she was acquainted with, adopting a smokescreen of cool familiarity that seemed to satisfy those that weren’t close to her, or who didn’t stop to think whether there was an actual meaning behind her friendly words.
She tried not to linger in that track of thoughts herself.
She slid the picture out of the frame and fingered the smooth surface of the picture for a moment, her eyes somewhat sad as she looked at his familiar features for a last time and unsure of what to think of the fact that she’d probably never see him again.
She waved her hand in front of the blue crystal above her desk with two fingertips, and one of the glass panels slid aside with a soft whirring noise, letting the eager marine breeze and the salty smell of the ocean invade her room and her senses.
She welcomed the jovial attempts of the wind to play with her dark curls in a chasing game as she stuck her head out of the window, not caring if a few errant strands partially covered her vision.
She leaned heavily on the sill with crossed arms, protecting herself from the telltale early morning chill. Without further thought she loosened her grip on the picture, handing over to the wind the last image and feelings that represented her only bound to her past life on Earth.
As the small piece of paper twirled and fluttered downwards and landed smoothly and silently on the ocean, she thought that never before had Colorado Springs felt so far, and never before she had been so relieved about it.
Elizabeth inhaled a lungful of the fresh Atlantean air, relishing in the cool feeling of the dancing breeze on her face and in her throat after breathing the stale air of the Daedalus for eighteen days.
Air that moved through the vents in a vicious circle, like her thoughts in her small shared cabin on the ship.
She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at the calm surface of the ocean after the picture had been swallowed by the waves when a familiar frame appeared in a balcony a few floors below her.
Dr.Zelenka turned his eyes upwards and waved at her with his neck craned in a nearly unnatural way. His voice sounded far and muffled as he called her, almost completely drowned by the waves splashing against the city below.
Her earpiece, lying abandoned next to her palm, crackled to life just as she returned with a wave of her own what she had interpreted as a welcome back from the Czech.
“Elizabeth?” Despite the distance, the voice coming out of the device was clearly recognizable as McKay’s.
Elizabeth scrambled backwards and quickly fixed the machine to her ear.
“Yes Rodney? Is something wrong?” ‘Already’, she added to herself. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face a new threat of impending destruction just yet.
“No no no. Listen, you have to see this, it’s really…amazing I’d dare say. I think I’ve found some kind of Ancient Arcade.”
She faintly heard Zelenka complaining in background about having been the one who discovered the room, and from the sound of it they weren’t alone in there.
“Wait…Arcade as in…games?” She asked, momentarily puzzled.
That was an intriguing thought. So far they hadn’t found anything that suggested the Ancients had a social life that involved any kind of trivial entertainment.
Not that they had ever gotten around to explore the database or run a search for something that wasn’t entirely technology or strategy related.
“Yes! Yes, lots of games. We won’t be stuck with those crappy movies for long. Oh, this is…this is…Ronon, how many times have I told you not to touch anything until I’ve…Oh, come on, give me that back!”
“Rodney?” The demanding tone that left her mouth was tinged with gentleness and motherly patience, the one she had mastered to steer her leading scientist back on topic when his thoughts and words started to stray from the main path. Which happened far too often than any senior member liked.
“Ah, yes, yes, Elizabeth…come down, quick. Never in my wildest dreams…Ronon, what did I just say? You…”
Elizabeth tapped the earpiece, effectively interrupting the communication, and shook her head even as a corner of her mouth quirked up without her brain’s consent.
She grabbed her PDA and the pen device, and without a second glance at the empty frame laying discarded on the table she rushed into the corridor, almost bumping into her military commanding officer in the process.
“Maj--Colonel?”
“I take it Rodney has already informed you?” He panted slightly. “I was on my way down, it looks like Carson managed to start one up. I can’t wait to get my hands on one of those things.” Elizabeth smirked in amusement, amazed at his capability to keep up his attitude after he had just risked never to set foot on Atlantis again. And from what she had heard over the earpiece, the others sounded pretty excited about the news, too.
She reminded herself it was all about ignoring.
Only Teyla she could picture with a patient, resigned smile matching her own, her stance always dignified even as she leaned slightly forward, her eyes reflecting mature, controlled curiosity.
But generally speaking, there hadn’t been much to be enthusiast about at Atlantis in the past months, and the good mood boost was a welcome change, even if it was caused by some alien version of a videogame and turned her closest collaborators into middle-school kids.
“Let’s go for a ride then.” His eyes lit up at her blatant go ahead and she decided not to say anything when he grasped her hand and pulled her towards the nearest transporter, his stride long and anxious and carefully self-conscious as he made sure he wasn’t dragging her.
She had missed Atlantis. The pulsing, lively city and the solid relationships with her people that seemed to fade when they were tucked into expensive business suites and dress blues.
And she remembered then, that it was *them*. Her people, that wiped the cobweb away with a simple wave of their hands when it threatened to envelop and choke her completely.
She thought that maybe she could have John take a picture of the city from a puddle jumper for her.
Frames, as well as hearts, should never be empty.
Rating: PG
Classification: Weir introspection
Pairings: implied Sam/Jack, and as always, you're welcome to read Shep/Weir UST if you want.
Word count: 2210
Spoilers: Episode 2x02, ‘the intruder’
Summary: Frames, as well as hearts, should never be empty.
Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters or the city of Atlantis.
Author’s notes: This started as a Weir/Beckett post The Intruder ficlet. Then I thought that John fitted better in the story, so John it was. And then my attempt to plunge into Liz’s mind took unexpected turns which resulted in this fic being twice as long as I had planned.
To
alittletoolate, because she wonders how Weir thinks, too. And because she is who she is. I'll get you some p0rn in the future, hon. Just not now, because I would psychoanalize that, too, and I don't think that'd be good.***
The door to Elizabeth Weir’s quarters opened with a sharp hiss and she took a single, long step inside.
Long enough to get her out of the range of the door sensors, and short enough to give her an adequate view of the room in its entirety.
Her gaze roamed the small space as she quickly re-accustomed herself to the sober, practical environment and the shades of blue and grey that dominated the Ancient architecture.
Everything was exactly how she had left it a month ago, a light layer of dust on the scarce furniture and her few belongings the only indication that she had ever been away.
One eyebrow rose warily at the thought of the extra work, and the first sigh since she had been greeted by her people on the East pier found its way to her lips.
She dumped her luggage on her bed, relieved in noticing that someone had been kind enough to provide fresh linen and moved over to her desk, not before she threw a longing look at the inviting pillow.
She would have to remember to plan her sleeping patterns on the Daedalus for her next return trip to Atlantis; as for now, she will have to deal with being one of the first humans to suffer interplanetary jet-lag.
Although she had a vague idea that the life threatening situation they found themselves in aboard the ship had probably more to do with her being totally devoid of energies than lack of sleep.
She picked up her PDA, feeling its familiar weight in her hands, while her eyes travelled a little, hesitantly, to the right.
The small display of pictures she had brought with her when she left for what she believed was going to be a one-way trip stared back at her from within their wooden frames: her dead parents; her and Sedge…
She smiled at the thought of her dog, relieved that she had left her in good hands after Simon had stated that Sedge was too much of a remainder of their relationship for him to keep her. She had appreciated the honesty, and the fact that she hadn’t come back to find her loved pet in a kennel.
General O’Neill himself had very enthusiastically offered to take care of Sedge, earning an eye-roll and an affectionate smile from Colonel Carter. Maybe she would be happy to be back in Washington. More likely she would miss the large backyard and the sharp scent of Colorado firs.
Elizabeth replaced the device on the desk and picked up the last photo, the one featuring her and Simon in a bar in Teheran, the time he’d wound up at the American Embassy during one of her longest stays abroad.
No matter how much she wanted to walk back to the Control Room, resume her duties and happily ignore the issue, the better-knowing part of her kept her rooted to the place.
There was no need of a Ph.D in Diplomatic Relations to know that issues, whatever their relative grade of importance, should never be left unsolved. It took one to be fully aware of the consequences that could be expected from the deliberate neglecting of said concerns.
Still, the temptation to turn and walk away was there. As zealous as she was in her work, she couldn’t say the same about her personal life.
Procrastination and indecision surfaced at times, familiar and somewhat liberating, and she would bask in them until she felt ready to be herself again.
Atlantis had denied her of these precious moments, and while a part of her felt empowered by the loss of the apparent weakness, the other was painfully aware of the growing confusion in her head. New, unknown fears, all she didn’t understand of Atlantis, close calls and questionable decisions that criss-crossed in her mind into an inextricable cobweb.
Elizabeth truly hoped that lack of time was an acceptable excuse for ignoring. She highly doubted it. She also told herself she wasn’t taking that path in her subconscious again, and that maybe sanity involved ignoring things sometimes.
She was getting an headache over something that had very little to do with the reason why she was standing at her desk with the corner of a picture frame digging into her palm, the wheels in her head turning so fast that the thought of it made her dizzy, and she wished, once again, that she had been gifted with a mathematical talent.
She knew she couldn’t isolate and give a name to every nuance she saw in a painting. That didn’t stop her from trying anyway.
She tapped the picture impatiently against her free palm, as if pondering over what to make of it.
She didn’t blame him.
She had explicitly told him to stop putting his life on hold for her on that recorded message.
A message that he shouldn’t have received more than a month before she had stepped back on Earth and into his arms.
Mathematics might not have been her forte like she sometimes wanted, but Elizabeth knew how to do 2 and 2 and get a 4.
She didn’t know which one of the two possibilities disturbed her the most, that he had jumped in bed with someone else the moment she gave him the green light, or that he’d done it much earlier, when he was still a constant in her thoughts and a rock to cling to in low moments.
She idly wondered if he’d ever cheated on her while she fought to have truces signed and prisoners released.
She was angry at him for having greeted her, kissed her and made love to her as if nothing had changed, as if it had been one of her usual assignments.
Mainly, she was angry at herself and at her presumptuous, or just hopeful belief that things could really be back as they were before, when she perfectly knew *she* for first, wasn’t the same woman that had left Earth over an year earlier.
For one foolish moment, she had had her guard down, her mind a whirlwind of emotions and sensations as she found herself on her homeworld again. And she had ended up paying for it with her humiliation.
She should have expected it.
Her direct experience and knowledge of men and romantic affairs was devastatingly limited, but the number of broken hearts she had been there to mend in high school, university, and various Embassies at the four corners of the planet spoke volumes.
Elizabeth was a silent learner, watching from afar and processing everything her brain came in contact with.
Thoroughly aware of the volubility that characterized the human kind, she had mastered her understanding of that trait and her innate skills to twist it to her advantage.
Yet, she had never stopped walking on eggshells around the people she was acquainted with, adopting a smokescreen of cool familiarity that seemed to satisfy those that weren’t close to her, or who didn’t stop to think whether there was an actual meaning behind her friendly words.
She tried not to linger in that track of thoughts herself.
She slid the picture out of the frame and fingered the smooth surface of the picture for a moment, her eyes somewhat sad as she looked at his familiar features for a last time and unsure of what to think of the fact that she’d probably never see him again.
She waved her hand in front of the blue crystal above her desk with two fingertips, and one of the glass panels slid aside with a soft whirring noise, letting the eager marine breeze and the salty smell of the ocean invade her room and her senses.
She welcomed the jovial attempts of the wind to play with her dark curls in a chasing game as she stuck her head out of the window, not caring if a few errant strands partially covered her vision.
She leaned heavily on the sill with crossed arms, protecting herself from the telltale early morning chill. Without further thought she loosened her grip on the picture, handing over to the wind the last image and feelings that represented her only bound to her past life on Earth.
As the small piece of paper twirled and fluttered downwards and landed smoothly and silently on the ocean, she thought that never before had Colorado Springs felt so far, and never before she had been so relieved about it.
Elizabeth inhaled a lungful of the fresh Atlantean air, relishing in the cool feeling of the dancing breeze on her face and in her throat after breathing the stale air of the Daedalus for eighteen days.
Air that moved through the vents in a vicious circle, like her thoughts in her small shared cabin on the ship.
She didn’t know how long she’d been staring at the calm surface of the ocean after the picture had been swallowed by the waves when a familiar frame appeared in a balcony a few floors below her.
Dr.Zelenka turned his eyes upwards and waved at her with his neck craned in a nearly unnatural way. His voice sounded far and muffled as he called her, almost completely drowned by the waves splashing against the city below.
Her earpiece, lying abandoned next to her palm, crackled to life just as she returned with a wave of her own what she had interpreted as a welcome back from the Czech.
“Elizabeth?” Despite the distance, the voice coming out of the device was clearly recognizable as McKay’s.
Elizabeth scrambled backwards and quickly fixed the machine to her ear.
“Yes Rodney? Is something wrong?” ‘Already’, she added to herself. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face a new threat of impending destruction just yet.
“No no no. Listen, you have to see this, it’s really…amazing I’d dare say. I think I’ve found some kind of Ancient Arcade.”
She faintly heard Zelenka complaining in background about having been the one who discovered the room, and from the sound of it they weren’t alone in there.
“Wait…Arcade as in…games?” She asked, momentarily puzzled.
That was an intriguing thought. So far they hadn’t found anything that suggested the Ancients had a social life that involved any kind of trivial entertainment.
Not that they had ever gotten around to explore the database or run a search for something that wasn’t entirely technology or strategy related.
“Yes! Yes, lots of games. We won’t be stuck with those crappy movies for long. Oh, this is…this is…Ronon, how many times have I told you not to touch anything until I’ve…Oh, come on, give me that back!”
“Rodney?” The demanding tone that left her mouth was tinged with gentleness and motherly patience, the one she had mastered to steer her leading scientist back on topic when his thoughts and words started to stray from the main path. Which happened far too often than any senior member liked.
“Ah, yes, yes, Elizabeth…come down, quick. Never in my wildest dreams…Ronon, what did I just say? You…”
Elizabeth tapped the earpiece, effectively interrupting the communication, and shook her head even as a corner of her mouth quirked up without her brain’s consent.
She grabbed her PDA and the pen device, and without a second glance at the empty frame laying discarded on the table she rushed into the corridor, almost bumping into her military commanding officer in the process.
“Maj--Colonel?”
“I take it Rodney has already informed you?” He panted slightly. “I was on my way down, it looks like Carson managed to start one up. I can’t wait to get my hands on one of those things.” Elizabeth smirked in amusement, amazed at his capability to keep up his attitude after he had just risked never to set foot on Atlantis again. And from what she had heard over the earpiece, the others sounded pretty excited about the news, too.
She reminded herself it was all about ignoring.
Only Teyla she could picture with a patient, resigned smile matching her own, her stance always dignified even as she leaned slightly forward, her eyes reflecting mature, controlled curiosity.
But generally speaking, there hadn’t been much to be enthusiast about at Atlantis in the past months, and the good mood boost was a welcome change, even if it was caused by some alien version of a videogame and turned her closest collaborators into middle-school kids.
“Let’s go for a ride then.” His eyes lit up at her blatant go ahead and she decided not to say anything when he grasped her hand and pulled her towards the nearest transporter, his stride long and anxious and carefully self-conscious as he made sure he wasn’t dragging her.
She had missed Atlantis. The pulsing, lively city and the solid relationships with her people that seemed to fade when they were tucked into expensive business suites and dress blues.
And she remembered then, that it was *them*. Her people, that wiped the cobweb away with a simple wave of their hands when it threatened to envelop and choke her completely.
She thought that maybe she could have John take a picture of the city from a puddle jumper for her.
Frames, as well as hearts, should never be empty.