New Fic: Talking To You

[lilwitchy.livejournal.com]

Title: Talking To You
Author: lilwitchy (p-u-k at gmx dot net)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Mine. Not! No money, no show, no deal. That’s me.
Spoilers: Season Two, Episode Eight Conversion
Author’s Note: tv_elf? I tried. I really did. This was written for tv_elf who wanted “an attempt at a plot, real attempt at the characters” and didn’t want “hurt/comfort.” Why anr thought I could do this I’ll never know. MANY thanks to mylittleredgirl for the beta.





Talking To You

You close the door behind you and look around your quarters with a tired sigh. It’s your last night on Atlantis, at least for while, and your stay has not been fun. When Dr. Weir looked into your eyes and warned you that you did not want to be her enemy, you did not take her seriously, but it is now clear to you that you underestimated her. Ever since the incident with Colonel Sheppard, the people on Atlantis have been less than cooperative. Reports suddenly take twice as long to reach you, conversations are always short, and strictly professional talks and meetings get rescheduled so much that it is impossible for you to plan ahead. None of this is serious, but it shows you that these people will not support you if you act against either of their leaders. The worst of it all is that you know Dr. Weir herself has nothing to do with any of this. The people of Atlantis are merely reminding you that they know what is going on and that they will not tolerate your behaviour without commenting on it.

You sit down and unwrap your sandwich. Eating in the cafeteria has become very uncomfortable for you. You wish you knew who overheard you and Weir talking outside the infirmary. It is too late now, though. You remind yourself that you are not trying to make friends, but to get the position that should be yours in the first place.

You bite into your sandwich and look at the chair across from you. It is empty, and with a dull ache in your gut you miss your wife (or your “ex-wife” as she refers to herself these days). It has been too long since you’ve had some good meaningless conversation over dinner.

So intent are you on your contemplation of the chair that it takes you a second to realize that there’s somebody there with you. There’s movement behind you and you freeze for a second. Your weapon’s too far away. You know that. If your opponent’s ability for stealth is any indication, his combat abilities far surpass your own. You’ve become used to using strategy and technology to fight, not your senses and physical strength. You can, however, sense your opponent’s ability. You don’t like the way you are feeling. You think it’s fear and you are not familiar with it. Not like this. You wish you had turned on the overhead lights, because already evening has clothed most of your room in black and shadows. Just as you mentally kick yourself, he steps around you and into the light. You recognize him immediately, even though he still looks strange. That knowledge does not help you at all. You are pretty sure your face doesn’t show any of your fear, but your insides are trembling. You think of your next actions when he suddenly growls, and you think your face might have betrayed you this time.

“How could you?” he hisses, and you can see his anger as it covers the distance between you both and tries to wrap itself around you. There is fury in his eyes. All you can do is stare at him. You no longer think you’re in danger, but now you simply don’t know what to tell the man. Colonel Sheppard’s skin still looks a lot like that of a blue lizard and the hands that just now slam onto your table still resemble claws. You wince.

You had not thought of his reaction when you decided to make those changes around Atlantis. Still, you stand by your decision. “I just did what should have been done a long time ago,” you finally defend yourself. You are still not used to fighting with words. It is not your first instinct, but you are not bad at it. “We both know this position should have been mine. I have the necessary experience and abilities. You don’t.” You gain confidence with each word and feel much more like yourself. The blue man hiding in your room rattled you before, but he doesn’t anymore. Soon you are leaning towards him over the table. “To answer you question: I could because I can.”

“What are you talking about?” He leans forward to stare into your eyes. Most of your confidence evaporates as you see his alien eyes staring at you, but you cannot back down. “What. Are. You. Talking. About?” He shoves each word at you as if to strike you. Your silence continues, since your words are stuck somewhere between your brain and your throat. You try to think of something to say but he is impatient. “All I want to know is how you could allow Elizabeth back into my room after I told her to station more guards outside my quarters? Answer me!”

Your answer comes automatically. “I’m not here to baby-sit your Dr. Weir, Colonel.” You are angry now.

“You were the highest ranking military officer on Atlantis, Colonel. You agreed to take over my role in Atlantis, Colonel. That makes protecting Elizabeth Weir one of your prime objectives. Colonel.” And suddenly you understand. You thought this was about trying to take away his position in Atlantis. You were wrong.

“You did something to her, didn’t you? When Weir cared enough to visit her poor blue Lieutenant Colonel, you did something to her. And now you’re blaming me. How convenient.” This is your chance. You know it. The alien influence excuse will probably be enough for Sheppard to get away with attacking a superior officer, but you have learned a few things about the dynamic between the two people leading Atlantis. The only way to get rid of John Sheppard is not to turn Elizabeth Weir against him (if that is possible at all), but to turn Sheppard against himself. “Whatever you did, Colonel, you can blame me all you like, but we both know who is responsible. Don’t we, John? First the window in her office and then? Tell me John, what did you do to her?” You look at him and can see him shrink. He scared you before, but now he just looks like a kicked puppy. You want to kick him again.

“Tell me, Colonel. What did you do?”

He looks at you with uncertainty in his eyes and suddenly those eyes seem much more human. His voice is weak when he replies. “You shouldn’t have let her go in there.”
You know you have him. You can practically see him crack. “Why? What happened to her?”

“I-“ he starts, but is interrupted when the door opens.

She walks in. “Colonel Caldwell, Sheppard’s miss- Oh.” She sees who is in the room with you and stops walking. “You’re here.” For a second she just looks at him, but then the smile that tries to creep over her features is scared away by a determined look. “Carson is frantic. What were you thinking?” She takes another step towards him and you think that she does not seem affected by whatever happened between her and Sheppard. They are both silent before she gently speaks to him. “What are you doing here, John?”

“I-“ He stops, and you think he is just as weak in her presence as he was a minute ago. You want to press on, make Sheppard tell you what he did, but you know as long as Dr. Weir is there you cannot act.

“The Colonel and I were just talking,” you say instead, and Weir suddenly focuses on you.

“And you thought having a chat was appropriate? Carson kept him in a coma for almost a week. His body is going through an enormous change. He just woke up and should be in the infirmary.” Now she is the one who is angry. You know you have to back down.

“We were just about to call Dr. Beckett.”

“I’m sure you were. C’mon John.” You see her lead him out of the room and once again ask yourself what the man has done to get her to trust him so unconditionally. You do not like that she is treating him like you were the one who attacked John Sheppard, and not the other way around. She is talking to him softly, but you cannot hear her exact words. Then they are gone, and the door closes automatically.

It is getting darker. It feels even darker than it really is. You go to the light switch, but decide you would rather be somewhere else then your quarters right now. You’ll take a walk, you think, but as soon as you are out the door you see them again. They are at the far end of the otherwise deserted corridor.

They are just standing there and you wonder what they are doing. Before you can decide whether you want to interrupt them or not Dr. Weir reaches for his arm. “You woke up from a coma and the first thing you did was go see Caldwell?” Her voice has that special tell me quality that you have often heard her use, and it works yet again.

“Sorry.” It surprises you that Sheppard really does seem sorry. You have always just seen him as the enemy. The one who got the position you were promised. The position you deserved. You realize that it’s not the man you dislike, but the opportunity that he has cost you. Hearing him apologize to Weir for not letting her know that he’d woken up makes you think that there’s something else to their relationship than what you thought.

“Just for that, I’m gonna tell Carson to keep you in that infirmary for as long as he likes.” Weir tells him.

“Okay.” You see Sheppard smile at her and she smiles back. She is obviously pleased with his reaction. “Let’s go.”

You watch them as they leave. Together. Even you see that there is something right about that.

FINI