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03 January 2010 @ 07:05 pm
Distant Melodies  
Title: Distant Melodies
Author: tenacious_err
Rating: R
Warnings: Mentions of torture, but no graphic scenes involving it. A bad word.
Characters: John Sheppard/Elizabeth Weir
Spoilers: None.
Beta: anuna_81 ♥. Who gets many cookies and thanks. She helped me edit my style, which involved a lot of 'shut the hell up, already.' Except she's nice. ♥♥♥
Summary: She wants to sing to him, but she can't remember the words.

Author's Note: Written for hihoplastic because she is fantabulous. At first I just wanted to write because I'd had writer's block, so she prompted me, and then I decided to break out my writing style a little and try to be more visual than I usually am. It's a little ridiculous how much I played with the wording in this fic. I hope you like it, ♥ x infinity. :)

She learned an Athosian song once.

The song was about a man who was away hunting when the Wraith culled his village. It was left in chaos and ruins, with no one in sight. He went to his own hut, expected nothing to be inside, and was shocked to find his lover still there, safe.

“How did you survive?” he asked her.

“We are intertwined,” she replied. “Wherever you are, I will be too.”

Teyla sings it far better than she ever could, and it has since become muddled and forgotten.

She wants to sing it, but she can't remember the words. They remain only as soft, indistinguishable hums, left just out of reach.


“So, this is cliché,” John says as his fingers drum a steady rhythm against the dashboard of the jumper.

His voice seems unusually loud as it cuts across the silence that has settled between them.

She blinks. “Cliché?”

He shrugs. “Man, woman,” his hand waves between them as if she needs verification, “stuck in a puddle jumper together because of some technical defect that leaves basics like light and gravity on except it can't pilot.”

“That's a cliché?” she asks, eyebrows knitting together.

“Okay, maybe not the puddle jumper part, but the man and woman trapped together in a enclosed space for a currently indeterminate amount of time, that's pretty cliché. Happens all the times in movies.”

“Oh, really?” she smirks, “and what, exactly, happens in those movies, Major?”

He swallows at the question and she notices the rising red tint to his cheeks. Her smirk widens.

“Y'know,” he says, his voice slightly raised, “man and woman stuff.”

She snorts and nods slightly before turning her gaze back to the front of the jumper and the stars in front of them. Atlantis rescue teams are supposed to come shortly. She tries to think of it as an overdue break, but keeps catching her hand reaching up to her non-existent com device.

She barely registers John clearing his throat until he does it again and much louder.


“Um, yeah,” he begins, a hand rubbing over the back of his neck, “earlier I didn't meant to imply... I mean I didn't want you to think.... I don't...” he cuts himself off with a sigh.

“It's okay,” she assures him, a small smile invading her features.

“No,” he insists. There was a time when she never would have thought the charming John Sheppard could look so awkward. But she's learned a lot about him. This conversation isn't casual or sarcastic and as he clears his throat again to speak, she can't catch his eye. “Listen, Dr. Weir-”


“Elizabeth,” he continues, even more awkwardly than before, “I didn't mean to hit on you. I don't see you like that.”

His eyes widen as he stutters on. “Not that you're not- I mean you're totally- much more attractive than my previous commanders, but I don't want you thinking I see you in a demeaning... I mean, you're the man.” He rubs a hand over his forehead and lets out a grunt. “This isn't coming out right.”

“No,” she agrees dryly as her lips quirk briefly at the corners. “But Major-”


“John, I appreciate it. And for future reference, I'll let you know if you cross a line. I'm not one to let things boil.”

“Well... good,” he nods as he glances at her.

“And for the record, I may be 'the man' but I'm not a man, something that I am, in fact, aware of.” He snorts, the tension easing from his shoulders, and she smiles back at him. They continue to make small talk until a team comes with a jumper and takes them back to Atlantis.


The cell is bleak and dark. Not that she really expects a jail cell to be anything else.

She lets her head fall forward. Her arms are sore to the point of numbness as they hang over her head. Her feet barely touch the floor, but she can still feel the cold seeping into her bones. She wishes for a warm bed and – against her will – wishes for more.

She feels the sting of a bruise forming on the side of her cheek. So far she's just been backhanded.

Lorne's team is back in Atlantis by now, and John will be readying a rescue mission for her. She knows John won't sleep until he finds her, or until he's medically forced to. It's dangerous and stupid and she wishes things were easier, more black and white.

She knows if they hadn't slept together his actions would be no different.

But maybe that's part of the problem.


“I don't have to knock any sense into any heads?” John asks as he enters her office to retrieve her for dinner.

“The IOA is backing me,” she replies with a wry grin as she puts away a few things on her desk. “For the time being they approve of me. Until, of course, I make a real decision which is when I'm sure that will change.”

“Eh,” John shrugs, “we can always just stage a coup. Separate from Earth, become our own entity.”

She smiles, imagining Woolsey's face upon declaring independence.

“You should do that more often.”


“Smile,” he shrugs as if the statement is just a simple truth. Her cheeks tinge pink. She looks down.

“I smile,” she argues lightly.

She shuts down her office and heads out across the control room and towards the mess with him. The sun has already been long down. They've been doing this regularly for months now, and she knows exactly what he's doing. He gets her late so that she can't complain she has more to do and so that she'll be forced to stop working and go back to her room. It's coddling and suffocating and endearing all at once. Lately, the endearing quality is winning out over the others.

Sometimes she feels blind when it comes to John.

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “you smile about as often as Rodney gets along with people.”

“Rodney has a girlfriend now,” she points out.

“Don't remind me. There's absolutely no accounting for personal taste,” he mutters.

“You know, I've heard that a certain colonel falls into many women's personal tastes," she says, tapping a finger on her chin.

“Elizabeth!” he squeaks, surprised. The edges of her lips raise slightly but he's too preoccupied to notice.

“I'm just wondering why Rodney got a girl before you,” she continues, innocently.

“He didn't-” she raises her eyebrows at his choice of words and he quickly speaks over them, “it's not a race! Besides, I don't see you dating!”

“I lead Atlantis, I can't date a subordinate.”

“That means you can't date at all,” he points out skeptically. She shrugs. “Elizabeth, that's ridiculous. You didn't sign up to be a nun.”

“I have a responsibility.”

“To who? What responsibility could possibly not allow you to date?”

“I can't have my priorities split,” she argues. “The IOA-”

“Wants Atlantis to be more of a colony eventually, which means people will pair off, including you.”

“Eventually being the key word there. Right now Atlantis isn't sturdy enough-”

“It's never going to be sturdy enough, not completely. You know that.”

Somehow he's gotten the upper hand in this conversation, still anchored in his unexpectedly serious mood. She frowns, pushing down the urge to make a quick excuse and leave. “Who are you, Dr. Phil?”

“God no,” he replies and hands her a tray, “I have hair.”

“I wonder sometimes if that really is hair, or an alien creature that took up residence when we got here.”

“Hey!” he responds indignantly, but his grin gives away the truth she would have already known. “That's it, you don't get to eat my dessert tonight.”

She smiles.


She remembers. Lorne's hand on her shoulder as he yells out, "Ambush!" and pushes her down and behind a stone pillar. “Stay down, ma'am. Cadman – dial the gate!”

Cadman quickly scrambles to the DHD, only for it to dial before she even touches it. Lorne yells out harsh curses, but all she can hear is the whizzing and clanking of bullets overhead.

Lorne jerks back suddenly. She understands what has happened even before she sees the red spreading across his sleeve, soaking the Atlantis patch.

She hears grunts and feels a hand wrap firmly around her and drag her back and towards the gate. She can't see who's holding her, but she feels the cold press of metal against her skull. Wishes it wasn't familiar. Feels the tug of what if beside her.

Lorne stands and faces her, aiming his gun uncertainly at her.

He doesn't issue a warning of surrender or make eye contact with her. The distance isn't right and Lorne can't hit the man without hitting her too. He isn't that good of a shot.

His pale face and blood-stained shoulder are the last things she sees before she's dragged through the gate.


She wakes up to a small wet spot beside her. A few blinks later she realizes it's blood and bolts upright in bed, turning to where John is lying. The wound on his shoulder is reopened and the blood is creeping onto her bed sheet.

Quietly she slips out of bed and into the bathroom to retrieve gauze, something she never thought she would use regularly or become so well-acquainted with. There are a lot of things she never saw happening in her life, traveling to another galaxy to lead an expedition to the lost city of the Ancients not being the least of them.

“John,” she gently pushes against his good shoulder as she sits at his side.

He practically leaps to a sitting position, his arms tense at his side and his fists clenched. “John,” she repeats, waiting as he turns to focus on her and his shoulders slouch. “You're bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” his eyes move groggily around until they settle on his shoulder.

“Come here,” she murmurs, turning him to her as she discards the bloody wrapping on his shoulder into the trashcan by the bed and cleans the wound before applying the new bandage. “Like new,” she promises, though she doesn't look at him as she speaks. She can't.

“You okay?” he asks, still sleepy from over exhaustion and the drugs running through his system. It's a minor miracle that he was released from the infirmary in the first place, a small mercy on Carson's part.

He's the one who almost died, again, and of course he's asking if she's okay. As if she's the one who runs headfirst into danger on a daily basis.

Not that her job is easy, but nine times out of ten it's far less dangerous than his. And even on those occasions where it is just as dangerous as his, he's right there by her side – risking his life again. For Atlantis, for her, for his friends, for whatever comes up.

John isn't suicidal. She knows that. But the reckless disregard he shows for his own life in the face of others is at best humble and worst insane.

He's still looking at her but she just swallows and slides over him and back into bed. The blood stain isn't big, and she can change her sheets later. John's arm wraps firmly around her waist as he nuzzles his nose against her neck. “I like this.”

“Bleeding on my sheets?” she asks dryly.

“Sleeping with you.”

She closes her eyes, a retort about the sex they've been having on the tip of her tongue but she doesn't have the heart to release it. He's not talking about sex and they both know it, and she knows that those aren't words he would have said if he were less tired or less drugged. It doesn't seem fair to hear them, like she's prying a secret away from him.

They don't do this, don't sleep together in the same bed. They have sex occasionally. (Lately occasionally has become frequently.) They cuddle rarely, but they never just sleep. If she's honest with herself, she's not even sure why. This thing between them isn't forbidden – not exactly. It's not exactly applauded by the IOA either, but after a few talks with Woolsey about propriety and splitting the functions of Atlantis and making it more of a colony it isn't forbidden.

Then again, if she starts sleeping with him this will be real. In the seven days he was gone she did what she always does. She acknowledged how much he means to her and stopped sleeping and stopped eating and promised herself she would tell him when he got back. Then he returned, wounded but alive, and the fear of acknowledgment came back to swiftly bury her previous resolutions.

The irony that John has always been more comfortable with this thing between them isn't lost on her. But where she thinks and thinks and thinks he goes with the flow and with his instincts, and for that she envies him.

She tightens her grip on the arm around her and closes her eyes, feels as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep behind her.

She gets no rest.


She hears footsteps echoing against the floor and against her will she perks up.

The faces of her captors greet her. Her stomach drops.

They haven't actually spoken to her yet, haven't even given names. She suspects that's part of the torture, not allowing any more human interaction than they have to.

“Gentlemen,” she greets, just like any business meeting.

“Dr. Weir,” one of the men speaks, “we'd like some information.”

“Sorry, I'm fresh out,” she replies, John's voice echoing the words in her head.

They say nothing and one of them, a tall bulky blond man, steps into the cell with her and cracks his knuckles.

She closes her eyes.


His lips clash roughly with hers as she lets out a small gasp and feels him press her into the wall. She wants to melt into him, let him consume her, but this isn't what she came here for. Forcefully she puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back. It takes him a minute but he pulls back and swallows. “Elizabeth?”

“John, we can't do this anymore.”

“Okay,” he says, and her heart constricts because he thinks she's talking about sex in the middle of the day.

“No, I mean... ever. We can't do this at all.”

A thousand emotions flash across his face, all of them ending on hurt as he runs a hand through his hair. “What are you saying?”

“I'm sorry,” she says quietly. John just stares at her.


“I can't have my focus-”

John turns away from her and she flinches when he pounds the wall with his fist. “So that's it? A few good fucks and you move on?”

She lowers her head, his words far more painful than a physical blow ever could have been. “It wasn't like that,” she argues lightly, “it isn't like that...”

“Yeah, then what is it like?” he asks, turning to face her and despite the harshness of his words he looks uncertain. As if this really was just a fling, at least on her part. The fact that he can even consider that to be true hurts her more than she can define.

“It's...” she stops uncertainly, finding every word in every language she knows inadequate. Words are her strength, and he's taken them away from her. “It's complicated.”

He doesn't say anything, just turns to stand in front of the door with his back to her. “John...” she breathes quietly, desperately.

She's drowning and he isn't even looking at her.

“We're okay, right? You and I? I mean-”

“Yeah,” he mutters, “we're fine.”

The door opens and he leaves.

She closes her eyes.


It could be much worse.

The man hit her around and she can barely see out of one eye from where it's swelling, but otherwise she's okay. She doesn't think any bones are broken, and she's not bleeding.

She's in pain, but she's alive and she hasn't told the men anything. Not that they really asked. A few vague questions about Atlantis were mentioned at the start, but after that it was all about making her break. She didn't, and she hasn't, so they're probably regrouping to figure out how best to continue.

That at least gives her time to breathe and think as she stands in the cell. She imagines right about now Rodney is working on the DHD to figure out what planet she was brought to. She also imagines John is right over his shoulder, asking if he's come up with anything.

She imagines their bickering, sees and hears Rodney ranting about how he's doing what ten men combined couldn't as John rolls his eyes. It calms her and gives her strength.

She hears a clatter against the bars and raises her head in surprise to see one of the men from before. He opens the door briefly to throw in a tray of food.

She stares at the food as he locks the cell and leaves.

She swallows, looking away from the food and back towards the wall beside her, John's smile in her mind.


“Goddamn it!” John slams his fist against the desk. She doesn't flinch. Won't flinch.

“I'm sorry Colonel Sheppard, but this is a diplomatic matter and as such falls under my jurisdiction.”

“Well, Doctor Weir, your safety on this mission is my priority. We received intel that the rebels on the planet are planning on using you as a negotiation chip. I can't let that happen.”

“We cannot let our actions be dictated by a single group of terrorists,” she argues. There's no real heat in her voice. The words are just a hollow platitude, designed to fill the conversation and end it.

“Like hell we can't!” John erupts. “Look, Elizabeth, your safety is my top priority. I'm not letting you go to that planet.”

“That isn't your decision, and I'm going.”

John stands and paces her office, and lately all he's been is angry. As soon as he sees her it flashes in his eyes, and she wishes she couldn't read him so well – couldn't read the hurt that flashes just a second before.

She breaks a little.

“John, look, I'm sorry-”

“It isn't about that,” he insists, understanding what she didn't say, “this isn't about... any of that, it's about you. Just... take more guards at least, more than just Lorne's team. Let me come with you with more marines. Please.”

“No, John. My decision is final.”

He stares at her and she stares back.

“I'm sorry,” she says. He shakes his head and storms out of her office.

“I'm so sorry.”


She hears the gunfire and listens as footsteps once again echo down the hallway. “Elizabeth! Rodney, she's over here!”

John is pushing against the door as if he can open it by sheer force of will.

She can't look away from him as he stares at her. John, she tries to say, to assure, but she can't speak. Can't breathe.

Rodney is quickly by his side opening the cell door and then he tosses John the key and makes his way down the hallway.

“Hey,” John says, his eyes on her swollen eye and she hates the guilt that flashes across his face. It's narcissistic, that he thinks he can save everyone he loves – that he's somehow all powerful and able. “How you doing?”

“Oh, you know,” she croaks, her throat constricting from the time in the cell and dehydration and something else, “the decorations could use a little sprucing up. It's just impolite to not at least leave your prisoner something to look at.”

“You'll have to leave a comment with customer service,” he says as he unshackles her. She falls limply against him, and immediately she's agitated by her lack of strength. He doesn't seem surprised.

He lowers her to the floor and lets her sit, silently helping her stretch her legs and rubbing her arms to help restore circulation. There's nothing remotely sensual about the touching, but it's reassuring in a way she wishes it wasn't. In a way that terrifies her.

“C'mon,” he murmurs after awhile, standing and holding her hand as he helps her to her feet.

“What? You're not going to sweep me off my feet?”

“Getting too old for that,” he shrugs. She smirks at him. “Elizabeth,” he hesitates, “you, uh, you might want to close your eyes.”


“You weren't the only prisoner,” he says, eyes darkened.

She doesn't close her eyes, but later wishes she had. It turns out whatever group captured her had probably only been getting started with their forms of obtaining information.

Some of the bodies they retrieve aren't even recognizable.


After getting a clean bill of health she shows up at his door. He doesn't look at all surprised to see her and just ushers her into the room without a word. Before he has time to fully turn around from shutting the door she closes the distance between them and kisses him.

He lets out a sound of surprise and she feels as he pushes at her shoulders a little but she doesn't relent, just deepens the kiss and presses her body firmly to him, grinding her groin against his. He lets out a groan before he forcefully tugs himself out of her hold.


“I missed you,” she says quietly, as if it explains everything.

His hands slide into his pockets, eyes focused on a spot on the ground. “Yeah, me too.”

He doesn't ask her why. She knows he never will.

She swallows hard and nods, feeling her throat constricting again. She takes in a deep breath – like ripping off a band-aid – confesses, “I'm scared.”

She's so scared of everything when it comes to him. What he means to her, what she means to him, the fact that she could lose him – not only as a lover but as a friend and not just to death. She'd rather face down a Wraith armada than deal with what she feels for John. Which, of course, isn't even remotely fair to him.

“I don't really do relationships well,” he murmurs, his own fears echoing against hers. “Don't connect well with others. Never have. I guess there's not usually much to connect with on my half,” his self depreciating humor kicks in to cover the emotion in his voice.

That John thinks he's a screw up is one of her greatest pet peeves. He's never told her verbally before, but it isn't like it's a hard thing to pick up on. There are days where she wants nothing more than to forgo all her calm ideals about peaceful resolutions and go knock some sense into whoever burdened him and put those thoughts in his head.

She licks her lips before she moves forward and wraps her arms around him. He rests his chin against her head and reciprocates the hug. She lets out a sigh it feels like she's been holding in for weeks.

“I missed you,” she repeats, means something else, wishes she could figure out what it is.

He holds her tighter against him and curls one hand into her hair. “If you could not get kidnapped again, that would help.” She knows he intends it to come off jokingly, but it's strained. They both know she isn't talking about the time spent away from him while in the cell.

“You're one to talk,” she says, her voice slightly muffled by his chest, “I didn't get even get a hot alien to kidnap me.”

He chuckles slightly and she relaxes against him and feels his own tension easing. “I think all the hot aliens are female.”

“That's sexist,” she murmurs.

“Well you get the handsome knight in shining BDUs to come to your rescue, that makes up for it.”

She smiles against his chest before lifting her head to look at him. “Lorne didn't come to my rescue.”

His eyes narrow at her. “No, no he didn't. A handsome knight did.”

“Oh, right,” she agrees, smiling at him as he smirks back at her.

He leans down and her breath catches in her throat when he gently places a kiss on her forehead before moving down and kissing her lips slowly, intimately. He pushes her back towards the bed and his acceptance of her makes her heart constrict and swell all at once.

Her stomach flutters at the indefinable need she feels as his hands settle on her hips and he shoots her a dark look of pure want. It's disconcerting and overwhelming and she wants to run far, far away and rebuild the walls that have guarded her for so long. She doesn't.

It isn't a resolution but it is a start, and that's something.


She learned an Athosian song once.

She hums the melody of it softly as her fingers run through the graying hair on his chest and she watches its steady rise and fall in the moonlight of his room. He shifts so that they're lying face-to-face, bodies intertwined to fit on the small mattress. He blinks, bleary-eyed, and focuses on her.

For all of a second his eyes widen in surprise when he realizes she's there – either from her being gone for so long or from thinking she would leave him after one night. The expression is quickly replaced with an open, trusting smile. Her breath hitches as her hand fists against his chest.

“'Lizabeth?” she knows what he's asking, but she doesn't know how to answer. She wants to. Wants to tell him everything.

She wants to sing to him, but she can't remember the words.

She kisses him softly, slowly, then tucks herself closer into his chest. She feels him smile against her hair before his breathing evens out again and he falls asleep.

She thinks maybe John already knows them.
Current Mood: cheerfulcheerful
A: Purple Flowervixen_in_violet on January 4th, 2010 12:31 am (UTC)
Beautiful. Sad and wonderful at the same time.

And nice writing style. <3
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:33 am (UTC)
Thanks! Glad you liked it. :)
he is terrible, face-wise: blue eyesleanstein on January 4th, 2010 01:06 am (UTC)
This is utterly amazing. Just... wow. Thanks for this!
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:33 am (UTC)
Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. :)
icarus: Atlantis - Breathe b/wicarus_abides on January 4th, 2010 01:18 am (UTC)

This was beautiful. I loved the parallel storylines you had going on back and forth. And you write both of them so well :)
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:33 am (UTC)
Awwww. :)!

I'm glad you liked it and think I write them both well. :)
grow your own damn wings: Atlantis - Sparkysoapbox_solo38 on January 4th, 2010 01:41 am (UTC)
I was waiting for this to have a tragic ending. I think reading it up until her rescue with that impression added an extra edge because we got to see how happy - comparatively - they were until it all began to fall apart. You had several absolutely dead-on points, especially the ones about how fucking is different from just sleeping together and how John's self-centered if he thinks he can save everyone. That she wants to run away is also something that feels very true to who she is, and it hasn't shown up in a lot of the fics I've read.

And I like that we get a happy ending. I really do. ^^ Thank you for writing this.
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:35 am (UTC)
Thank you. Yeah, honestly I absolutely see Elizabeth as someone who isn't good at very close relationships and would want to run. I think between her and John they'd have a lot of issues to hurdle over, but that they'd they get there. They at least deserve a happy ending, so why not give them one? :)

I'm glad you liked it!
drewandiandrewandian on January 4th, 2010 01:48 am (UTC)
wow...this was terrific...beautiful, heartbreaking and then hopeful at the end. Great job!
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:35 am (UTC)
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it.
(Deleted comment)
Aly: {SGA} John/Elizabeth gateroomtenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:39 am (UTC)
Thank you so much.

And yeah, I mean in my personal interpretation of them they're both awkward in their own ways, but I don't see John ever purposefully pushing Elizabeth away, whereas I could see Elizabeth doing just that because she would be constantly questioning it. :)

I'm glad you liked it!
Spex: SYTYCD - Ade and Melissa - 04speckleberry on January 4th, 2010 04:20 am (UTC)
I loved this! It's so well written and bittersweet and sad, then it brings you back to smiling again and I love stories that have a happy ending, but leave you with the idea that their future is hopeful, but not certain.

Wonderful work!
Aly: {SGA} John/Elizabeth back to the starttenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:39 am (UTC)
Thank you! :D I'm glad you liked it! ♥
I'm not weird, I'm limited edition: my endless loveanuna_81 on January 4th, 2010 04:41 am (UTC)
You know I love this - it's tender, it's intimate, it's beautiful. I think you captured them both perfectly, with their insecurities and yet the need to be close to the other. And John indeed is the one who is more comfortable with things between them.

I heart this very very much, you know that. The 'shut up' parts werent because I don't like you or the story! Promise! I'm glad you still think I'm nice :)
Aly: {SGA} John/Elizabeth talk without a wordtenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:43 am (UTC)
Hee, thank you! And yeah, I mean I think between them they could screw up the relationship a thousand different ways, but John would never be the one to purposefully push her away - whereas I could see her doing that, even if she thinks it's necessary.

I know! And I know you'd never actually tell me to shut up, even if that's what I need to do. ;) And who knows, maybe I'll give an even more poetic style a go sometime. Or maybe I'll just write in my usual style of putting down dialogue and then remembering that I need other things to show what they're doing.

You're an awesome beta. ♥
I'm not weird, I'm limited edition: lovers walkanuna_81 on January 5th, 2010 07:37 pm (UTC)
And right back at you, you are an awesome beta too!

Hee, you're totally right. John is the listen - to - your - heart guy, he is more likely (among them) to act on his emotions. Also, he is much better in acting than talking *g* While Elizabeth, she is so rational and so in control and everything has to fit into neat little boxes on the shelf, not because she is anal - retentive, but because she wants to contor important stuff. Her own feelings? She is likely to pack them into a small box hidden on the shelf, and not open it, because that's the stuff she has no way of controlling. And letting go is risky and therfore scary.

Do give the poetic sytle another chance - you're doing it beautifully. :)
a_blackpanther: Homea_blackpanther on January 4th, 2010 04:55 am (UTC)
This is very beautiful and good, and heartbreaking, and i'm glad it eventually has a happy ending.

There's definitely something funny going on with the pronouns in the second to last paragraph.
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:44 am (UTC)
Thank you, I'm glad you liked it! :)

And thanks for that tip. I had to reread those sentences a few times to even catch it because I'm just too close to the writing, but I'm glad it's fixed now.
Vicky: [Atlantis] Joe/Torri - Friendship is a gvickysg1 on January 4th, 2010 02:08 pm (UTC)
Beautiful fic! I love the angst in there, and how they finally got together at the end.
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:44 am (UTC)
Thanks! I'm glad you liked it. :)
*touch my monkey*yaboiksar on January 4th, 2010 04:46 pm (UTC)
Wow, just beautiful.
Alytenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:44 am (UTC)
Thanks. ♥
evolution of the human soulwindandthestars on January 4th, 2010 07:10 pm (UTC)
This is wonderful! The perfect mix between the two story lines, nice and heartachey without being really angsty ♥
Aly: {SGA} John/Elizabeth good to heartenacious_err on January 5th, 2010 08:45 am (UTC)
Yeah, I'm a sucker for happy endings. I'm glad you liked it. :)
☮ + ♡ + ☺: sga - e; burn this cityhihoplastic on January 11th, 2010 04:53 pm (UTC)
AWWWW I LOVE THIS. So many things!!

The teasing in the beginning and the “Y'know,” he says, his voice slightly raised, “man and woman stuff.” and awkward!John and the teasing about the dating and them being BFFs before the angst comes and then the angst and john not sleeping and Elizabeth knowing he's not sleeping and Lorne not being able to save her and her trying to break it off and John being so hurt and getting back together and <333333 I love everything. It's so beautiful and poignant and angsty and wonderful and I love it and you and thank you so much!!!

Also, this “Well you get the handsome knight in shining BDUs to come to your rescue, that makes up for it.”

She smiles against his chest before lifting her head to look at him. “Lorne didn't come to my rescue.”

His eyes narrow at her. “No, no he didn't. A handsome knight did.”

You do John one-liners so well!! :D
Alytenacious_err on January 11th, 2010 11:44 pm (UTC)
♥! I am glad you liked it!

Also, that conversation is my favorite! So yay I'm really glad you liked that! :DDDD!
ankareeda: y_color_loveankareeda on April 15th, 2010 11:28 pm (UTC)
Wow that was absolutely amazing, touching and just beautiful! I love how you displayed their emotions, so vivid and tender! ♥

“I wonder sometimes if that really is hair, or an alien creature that took up residence when we got here.”


“Well you get the handsome knight in shining BDUs to come to your rescue, that makes up for it.”

She smiles against his chest before lifting her head to look at him. “Lorne didn't come to my rescue.”

His eyes narrow at her. “No, no he didn't. A handsome knight did.”

“Oh, right,” she agrees, smiling at him as he smirks back at her.

*lol* They're too cute for words. ♥