Take One Down (1 of 2), for grav_ity

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Title: Take One Down (Part 1 of 2)

Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Pairing: Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard
Rating: PG
Written for: Kate (grav_ity) for the swficathon
Request: "Elizabeth somehow made it through college without learning '99 Bottles of Beer,' and John decides it's because she never had a road trip, so he takes her on one. In a puddlejumper. Sex is optional, disaster would be fun. Nothing after 'Progeny.'"
Author: marastar
Beta: edoraslass, to whom is owed much gratitude and many hugs for actually checking GateWorld for the correct spelling of certain proper nouns *hugs*
Author's grovel note: My sincerest apologies to both grav_ity and anr for the ludicrous delay in posting this story, a sin for which I deserve no less than forty lashes with a wet noodle. I have no excuse, really, other than Kate’s request prompted much more writing than I have ever written for a fanfic, and I ended up with a much longer story than I normally would have. Then real life got in the way, and well, you know the rest. In any case, I hope that by breaking it up, Kate can get at least a part of the request she made until Part Two is completed. Thanks again for your patience!

*****

"So you never ..."

“No.” Her tone is curt. Definitive. Practically a period in itself.

“Really?" John pressed anyway. "I find that hard to believe.”

Elizabeth didn't even look up. “And why's that?”

“Because everyone has. Even Rodney. And I think there's a Satedan version that Ronan's been teaching the Athosians. I bet if you checked the Ancients’ archives –”

“Well, I haven’t.”      

Elizabeth still wouldn't look at him, but it was pretty obvious from all the scribbling she was doing at her desk that she'd assumed the conversation was over. Well, John thought, she's wrong.

“Exactly." He eased a little further down his seat, finding a more comfortable position. "Which is a bit ... abnormal. Don’t you think?”

That got her attention. Stylus poised in mid-air, Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, slowly rising to meet his. “I really fail to see how my not knowing some sort of drinking song is relevant to the task at hand. Namely,” she paused, waving a hand over the mass of folders scattered across her desk, “finishing off these performance reports which, as you are aware, are already three weeks overdue.”

He glanced up at the ceiling, as though dealing with a particularly green recruit, and sighed. “It's not a drinking song.”

“I see," she replied, cocking her head slightly. "Well, the title is certainly misleading." She turned back to her work. "Not to mention highly improbable."

“That's just what MacKay said.” John grinned, hoisting his feet on the edge of her desk. That earned him a Look, but not unlike the overdue reports, he'd learned to ignore them. In any case, he'd managed to change the subject. A small victory at least. “I don't get it. How you could not know that song?”

“Not everyone's led the exciting social life you have, John,” she replied archly, returning to her work.

“Well, no. Of course not.” He straightened his shoulders. “But still … not even in college? I mean, what about spring break?”

Elizabeth shot him a stern look. “For the last time, John: No. I did not ‘do’ spring break and I did not learn that song. And honestly, I really don’t see that I missed out on anything that important.”

“What? Are you kidding?” he choked.

Her lips twisted slightly, either out of amusement or annoyance. He really couldn't tell. “No.”

“A crappy car, an open road, and a bunch of tunes,” John said, counting each off with a finger. “Nothing but you, a few buddies, and a vague idea about where you’re headed.” He paused.  “Except if it’s spring break. Then you definitely know where you’re going.”

 “Let me guess,” she replied dryly. “The beach?”

 “Not just any beach. Daytona.” He said it with the kind of awe usually reserved for the Superbowl or ancilliary-powered weapons of mass destruction.

“I see.” She tried to suppress a grin, returning to her laptop. “Well, I managed to do without the Great College Road Trip and still emerged a relatively well-adjusted individual.”

“Uh, right.”

She stiffened, tapping the screen with increasingly indignant jabs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He shrugged. “Except, well, you’re not exactly the most relaxed person.”

She put down the laptop and crossed her arms. And he knew, without having to look, that it was highly unlikely he’d have to even glance at another performance report for the rest of the day. Which was oddly satisfying, considering it was probably about to cost him his job.

All in all though, it was worth it, John decided. Just to get out of dealing with those goddamn reports.

"That’s ridiculous," she said flatly. "I’m a very relaxed person."

He looked her over. Yep, there it was: rigid posture, hands folded in front, stony glare. For all her vast diplomatic experience, it seemed to have completely escaped Elizabeth's attention that her body language was projecting the exact opposite statement.

“Oh really? Well, tell me then, when was the last time you did something fun?” he challenged, lifting a finger to silence her as she opened her mouth. “And not including the game of solitaire you've been playing for the last few minutes just to ignore me.”

She glanced at the screen again, closed her mouth, and glared at him. “That’s not fair.”

He leaned back in his chair, knitting his fingers behind his head. “I rest my case.”

“I happen to be a very busy person,” she protested. “Atlantis takes a lot of work. The paperwork alone –”

"Yeah, yeah. Paperwork." He waved a hand dismissively. "Whatever."

Her cheeks, he noticed, had flushed a bright pink. It brightened her eyes and she looked ... well, pretty cute, actually.

John liked to think he noticed a lot of things others didn't. As a soldier, he had to. It was a matter of survival. But strangely enough, he hadn't noticed that. And for some reason, it suddenly bothered him that he had.

"Look," he said, assuming a pose more casual than he felt. “The reports are already late. What's a few more hours?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, pushing the computer away. “Okay. Ten minutes. But that's it. Back to work.”

“Right,” John replied, grabbing their mugs and heading for the canteen. But already, he had other ideas.

 *****

It was remarkably easy to kidnap the leader of an intergalactic expedition.

Given his status as military commander of Atlantis (and supposedly in charge of security), John should have probably viewed that fact as a source of concern, perhaps even alarm. But since the circumstances happened to suit him, and he seemed to be the one doing the kidnapping this time, he really didn’t give it all that much thought.

After all, it was for a good cause, and it wasn’t going to harm anyone. Although he doubted either point would actually make it in the report to Stargate Command when all was said and done. Which, knowing Elizabeth, would be a considerable amount of saying and doing.

“So let me get this straight,” she said, breaking his train of thought. “There is no mission to investigate M8R-943 – "  

“Actually, I like to call it ‘Blinky’ –" 

“ – no newly discovered civilization with advanced technology that we should try to establish relations with –"  

“Nope.”  

“ – and not a scrap of Ancient inscribed, painted, carved or otherwise written anywhere that would require translation?” She looked at him expectantly.  

“Right,” he affirmed cheerfully. “None of the above.”  

“So why, may I ask, are we here?” She gestured vaguely at the interior of the Puddle Jumper.  

“You realize that you’re talking in italics again,” he pointed out, adjusting a few controls. “It’s really not helping.”  

“ ‘Not helping,’ ” she echoed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You convince me – under false pretenses – that I need to be on a mission that doesn’t even exist. We are now more than four hours away from Atlantis, flying to God-knows-where for no real reason whatsoever. Or, at least, none that you’re willing to divulge, which can't be much better.”  

"Exactly," he replied. "Except for that last part." 

She ignored him. “And now you’re telling me that I’m ... not ... helping?”

Elizabeth drew out the last three words slowly, like she still couldn’t quite believe that insubordination on such a grand scale could possibly exist.  

“Well …” John paused, weighing his options: slightly pissed-off Elizabeth versus furious Elizabeth. A no-brainer, really. “No. Not really.”  

“Arrrgh!”  

“OK, OK,” he conceded, seeing as they would have to share the very limited space the jumper afforded for a few hours yet, and that he'd probably still need both his arms to fly it. “I surrender. I’ll tell you where we’re going.”  

She looked at him suspiciously. “OK. Where?”  

He considered it, looking intently at the star map that appeared on the main screen directly in front of them. “Riiight … there.” He pointed. 

She squinted. “What is that?”  

“A planet,” he replied proudly. “The ninety-ninth astronomical body from Atlantis, to be exact. Zalenka helped me find it." He turned to her and grinned. "Isn’t it great?”  

She looked at him blankly. “I don’t get it.”  

He sighed. “You’re not supposed to ‘get it,’ Elizabeth. It’s an adventure. A place you’ve never been before. A bright spot on the -” 

“John,” Elizabeth interrupted, looking at him gravely. “Please tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”

“What’s that?” he asked, trying for his best innocent-yet-charming look. 

“Well, apart from the kidnapping, a very misguided and desperate attempt to avoid finishing those performance reports.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about." He assumed his best poker face. 

She stared at him a moment longer, a mixture of incredulity and horror, like the eyes of a stray cat his sister once dumped on him, just before he'd tried to give it a flea bath.

“Oh my God,” Elizabeth moaned, dropping her face in her hands. “I’ve been abducted. By my own staff.”  

John sighed, then patted her shoulder. “I knew I should have gotten you drunk first.”

*****

Elizabeth considered herself to be a pretty resilient individual. She'd managed to bring African warlords to the negotiation table, made it through bureaucratic torture sessions with the I.O.A., even maintained a friendship with Rodney for something like five years. And that wasn't even counting all the times she'd been abducted and blackmailed and forced to decide who lived and who died.

One thing she wasn't going to survive, however, was listening to Journey for the four hundredth time. Or the truly painful off-key singing that accompanied it.

"John, do you think you could switch to something else?" she asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice. On the plus side, she'd managed to discover something that he actually didn't do well. She'd have to make a note of that.

Mercifully, the humming stopped. "Like what?"

 "I don't know." She looked up from her PDA, flashing him a tight smile. "Anything else."

"This is 'Wheel in the Sky,'" he explained. "It's a classic."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"OK, OK," he relented, reaching for his duffle bag. He rifled through it. "How about some CCR?" He glanced up. She ignored him. "Skynyrd?” he tried hopefully.

She shook her head, returning to her reports.

"Oh c'mon, Elizabeth." John tossed the bag to the floor. "It's Skynyrd. Not listening to 'Free Bird' is like -" he paused, searching for the right term, "- road trip blasphemy."

"I'm really not in the mood right now, John."

He crossed his arms. "Right. So what you are in the mood for involves reports and evaluations and whatever other boring office stuff you've got stored on that thing." He gestured dismissively at the device in her hand. "You know, it really wouldn't kill you to leave that behind sometimes. This is supposed to be fun."

Slowly, Elizabeth put down her PDA. This was really getting out of hand. "Fun?" she asked incredulously, turning to face him. "Fun?"

He looked at her, a puzzled look on his face. Like a puppy who pees on the rug and doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong when you scold him.

"You lied to me," she said, her voice gradually increasing in volume. "Forced me on this 'road trip' - as you so quaintly put it - trapped for hours on end in a Puddle Jumper, forced to listen to mullet rock while we make our way to some godforsaken planet for no real purpose whatsoever other than some juvenile attempt to avoid work. At the worst possible time too, when I have a million things to do back at Atlantis." She jabbed him with a finger. "When you have a million things to do back at Atlantis. And you want me to forget all that, just sit back and enjoy the ride?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yep. That pretty much sums it up."

She stared at him. There really wasn't any other way to make him understand. "Well, I can't," she said simply. "I just don't work that way."

"Yeah, I can see that," he replied, the beginnings of a grin immediately quashed by her glare. "Look, Elizabeth. I didn't do this to rile you up. I just thought you could use a little fun. Relax a bit." He turned towards her and leaned forward, his hands dropping between his knees. "Is it really so bad?"

She sighed. It really wasn't, all things considering. Still ... "That's not the issue, John, and you know it."

"OK," he admitted. "So maybe this wasn't one of my best ideas. But everyone was going a little stir-crazy back there, you know? Even you."

Elizabeth knew she was worn out. But who wasn’t? The I.O.A. was still scrutinizing the expedition in every conceivable way, from the performance of its staff to the progress of hundreds of scientific experiments to how much they were spending on everything from food to ammunition. As a result, most of the missions had been temporarily grounded until further notice, and everyone had grown restless with nothing to distract them from the bureaucracy's prying eyes.

"I've just been tired, that's all," she said, more defensively than she would have liked. "Like everyone else at Atlantis." She gave him a pointed look.

"Maybe," John said. "But then again, my team actually takes breaks. Most of the time they do it on their own, but sometimes you have to force it for their own good."

What was he trying to say, exactly? That she wasn't doing her job? "Well, I'm not one of your foot soldiers, John," she bristled. "I don't need you or anyone else telling me what to do. I can manage just fine."

She regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. They sounded harsh and superior, exactly the sort of thing she had always managed to rein in before. But it was too late, and if John needed any more proof of what he was trying to tell her, she'd just provided it.

She looked away, out into the vast blackness of the space that surrounded them. For the first time since they'd met, she couldn’t look him in the face.

"I know you can, Elizabeth," he said softly. "Better than anyone else. But then, that's not really the point either."

She didn't say anything.

"The point is," he continued, "everyone's on the expedition's got someone to look after them, someone who's going to tell them when they need to sit one out." He paused. "Everyone except you, that is."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Being in charge always meant being more isolated than everyone else. People didn't respect leaders who were weak; they couldn't see her upset or losing control. So she kept it professional. And if maintaining that focus meant keeping people at a distance, it was a small price to pay for the important work she was doing, the lives she was going to save. Elizabeth knew that. It had always been part of the deal.

"So?"

"So I'm doing it." He grinned. "Even though you're going to kick my ass the second we get back to Atlantis."

She nearly laughed at the thought, the urge almost overwhelming her before she managed to hold it in. It felt good though, to want to laugh. It felt good in a way that it hadn't for months now.

John was watching her, a bemused expression on his face. She couldn't quite read it.

"But the I.O.A. - and Stargate Command -" God, she couldn't even managed to finish a sentence now. And they were very good points that she was trying to make too.

"Yeah, I know," he said, as though resigned to the fact. "They're important. I get that. But what's the point of being here, in the Pegasus galaxy, if we don't stop and smell the roses sometime?"

He looked at her and smiled. And Elizabeth realized suddenly that he was giving her the exact same look he had all those years ago when she had offered him a spot on the expedition. Part cheek and part truth – enough of each to make you listen. He somehow always managed to win her over with that look, even if she didn’t know exactly why.

Back then, John had been a last-minute addition to the team, a pilot who just happened to have struck the genetic jackpot. She'd needed his abilities then, so much so that she'd glossed over the details, ignored the reprimands in his file, the dead-end assignments. She thought she knew what she was getting into with John Sheppard.

Only she didn't. Not really.

"Listen," he said gruffly, pushing the duffle bag out of the way with his foot. "Take over here. I'm going to take a nap in the back."

"Me? But I can't fly this thing."

"No problem," he assured her. "The jumper's practically on autopilot. And you read Ancient anyway, so knowing which button to press shouldn't be a problem."

"Do they even work for people without the Ancient gene?"

"Sure. It's like being in the car once the keys are in the ignition." He got up, stretched slightly, then brushed past her to the small benches in the back. "It's basically just the navigation and weapons control that are gene-locked anyway."

"Great," she said dryly. "I guess there's no danger of my crashing the jumper then."

"See that you don't," he called from the back, groaning a little as he leaned back and settled in. "I'm kinda partial to this one."

*****

Somewhere between the jolting thump-hiss and the sudden, horrible silence which followed, Elizabeth realized something was wrong. Very, very wrong. 

“Um, what was that?”  

“What?” John asked sleepily. 

The overhead lights flickered, and the screen blinked. “That.”  

“Probably just a power malfunction,” John replied unconvincingly. “I’ll look into it.” 

Returning to the pilot’s seat, John took a quick scan of the main screen. A small grid appeared in the centre, with a red dot flashing in its lower left quadrant. His knuckles whitened as they gripped the controls more tightly.

He tapped a few keys on the console, eyes darting back and forth between the screen and the comm. Tap tap tap and … nothing. 

“John … ?” 

He leaned forward and stared at the console, raking a hand through his hair. That definitely wasn’t good. Even when things were bad, he'd always managed to at least look her in the eye.

“I think it's busted," he said finally. 

Elizabeth felt her stomach drop. “What do you mean? What’s busted?” 

“The left engine. Blew out or something. I have no idea why.” He glanced at her cautiously, as though expecting some kind of shrill, angry outburst. She stared at him.

"Kind of the jumper equivalent of a flat tire,”  he offered, giving her a weak smile. 

She blinked rapidly, trying to think of some options. “Can it be fixed?”  

“Don’t know. I’d have to get to the engine first, and it’s out there.” He gestured to the vast black outside the window. "And even if I could get to it, I’m no mechanic. I just fly the damn things.”

"Can we turn around? Get back without it?"  

“Sure, but it’ll take us longer." He sighed again. "Like, weeks longer."  

“What about the comm link?” She tried to keep her voice calm and steady. “We could try to call Atlantis and have them send another jumper.”  

He scanned a few readings. “Can’t," he shook his head, pounding a hand on the console in frustration. “We’re out of range.”

She looked at the grid again, the angry red dot flashing. “Pull up a chart,” she suggested. “Maybe we can find a place to safely land and repair the engine.”  

“This thing might be able to find a planet with the right environment, but we don’t have access to the Ancients’ database,” he cautioned. “We won’t know anything about what we’ll be walking into. Could be a hostile civilization, or worse, Wraith territory.”  

“Well, what other options do we have?” she asked, fighting to keep a neutral tone.

“We could wait it out," he said hesitatingly. "See if Atlantis sends anyone on their own."

“So they're expecting us back soon?” Suddenly, things weren't looking so bleak.

“Well, no. Not really,” he hedged. “I mean, I talked to Zalenka about the planet, but I didn’t tell him that I was planning to go there.” He glanced at her. “You know … with you.”  

“Oh.” Her face fell. “It could take them hours to figure out where we are.”  

“Yeah,” he agreed, turning back to the screen. “I guess that means we’ve only got one option left.”  

Elizabeth glanced at the screen as the grid blinked out, replaced by a map with flashing blue, green and red coloured dots. She sucked in a breath.

“Let’s do it then, and hope the natives are friendly.”

Comments

[xfkirsten.livejournal.com]

I love it! Characterizations are spot-on, and I can totally picture the scenes playing out in my head. I really like where you're going with this one, and can't wait to read more!

[marastar.livejournal.com]

That really means a lot, since I usually gravitate more towards angst/introspection-type fanfic. I hardly ever write much dialogue, but this story seemed to call for it. Thank you!

[phantmgreeneyes.livejournal.com]

Loved it!! I can't wait to find out what happens next!

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Thanks! I hope Part Two lives up to your expectations.

[atlantis-babe34.livejournal.com]

keeeeep going!:D loving it!:D

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

*soaks up encouragement*

[atlantis-babe34.livejournal.com]

No problem :D

[calleigh-j.livejournal.com]

“I knew I should have gotten you drunk first.”

Hee hee. Love this story - if the two of them ever went on a road trip, it would actually be like this. Perfect!

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I had a great time thinking of all the road-trip scenarios, mainly because we almost never see Elizabeth leave Atlantis. Which is kind of tragic, really, because watching her and John fight over who's boss would be so much fun.

[marastar.livejournal.com]

I'm so glad you liked it! I had a hard time choosing between the requests, because both caused plot-bunny explosions in my head.

I hope Part Two lives up to your expectations! And thanks again for being so patient.

[vickysg1.livejournal.com]

I like it!

Can't wait for more!

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Thank you! The story definitely isn't over yet.

[soapbox-solo38.livejournal.com]

Lovely. ^^ The entrance conversation is so... easily interpreted differently that it had me wondering what would come later... which was a whole lot of fun. I like the 'flat tire', and the ninety-ninth planet. :) Go Sparky!

[It was remarkably easy to kidnap the leader of an intergalactic expedition.]

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

I had a great time writing that conversation. Not that I think Elizabeth never had any fun at college, but I always pictured her working for Habitat for Humanity in some developing country on her spring break, rather than getting loaded and prancing around in a bikini.

What John may or may not be picturing is another matter entirely. ;)

I'm so glad you liked the road-trip clichees ... I loved trying to work them in, and finding their outer-space equivalents.

[alianne.livejournal.com]

Heh. Lovely. John abducting Elizabeth. *g* Very cute little story so far.

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

I totally had to have John kidnapping Elizabeth. There was just no way she was going to go on a road trip for no good reason. Plus: OMGCHARMING! How could she possibly stay mad at him?

[ebinia.livejournal.com]

Oh I like it lots, hope the next one doesn't take too long!

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Me too! *cowers*

Thank you, though. All this wonderful encouragement really does help!

[ankareeda.livejournal.com]

Lovely beginning. :) You've got some really good lines: “I knew I should have gotten you drunk first.” Hehe! :D

[marastar.livejournal.com]

Hee! Oh, he so wishes she were drunk. At least once, so he could see what she's like under all that stoicism. Which, I think, also accounts for all that alien-liquor-made-them-do-it fic out there. *thinks evil NC-17 thoughts*

Love your icon!