ext_1855 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
dirty-diana.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
sga_flashfic2005-03-13 02:50 pm
dirty-diana.livejournal.com) wrote in sga_flashfic2005-03-13 02:50 pm
Entry tags:
Untitled by dirty diana, enclosed spaces challenge
Because I can never resist a good cliche. 583 words, Sheppard/Weir. beta thanks to the fabulous ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sffan.
In the end, she had thought that she'd be stronger than this. She'd thought they'd both be stronger.
But then the door closed, and there was nothing else.
The door closed, and Elizabeth trembled.
"You cold?" John asked her. He was calm, patient when he spoke. The anger only showed when he allowed it to, around the corners of his eyes.
She'd thought she'd be stronger.
"You should try and get some sleep," he told her quietly.
She shook her head.
"I'll keep watch." There was the anger again, barely controlled, the end of each word a hard, guttural sound. "But you need sleep. That's an order."
"Order?" she repeated, rubbing absently at her wrists, where the bonds had cut her skin.
"Sure," he answered, and she wondered how he could smile. "Unless you want to debate whether being captured by the enemy is a military situation."
"They're not our enemies." It was a reflex, without thinking. "It was a misunderstanding."
"Elizabeth."
She stopped talking. She couldn't really see him, in the darkness. She thought there was a torch burning, somewhere behind two feet of stone door, and the light crept through the cracks and hurt her eyes. All she could see were shapes, and shadows, the rough outline of John as he sat right beside her, protectively, between her and the door. And traces of movement, as he tapped one hand against his knee, over and over. She thought they might be underground. He couldn't sit still.
"I'm just glad it wasn't the Genii."
It was hard to tell sometimes, when John was joking. "Because they would have started torturing us by now?" Her voice was oddly light.
"Because it would have pissed me the fuck off. Excuse me," he added, out of habit.
She swallowed another inverted laugh, bubbling in her chest out of nowhere, and tried to breathe.
The floor was damp. She rubbed her hands together, to keep the blood flowing in her fingertips.
"It's a tactic," she said finally. "They'll have demands. Negotiations. But probably not for days." She sighed. "Otherwise..."
"We'd already be dead."
"Yes." When she closed her eyes, she could still hear him moving.
"Guess we better get comfortable, then."
"Yes." And she jumped, before realising that there was nothing hiding in the dark, only his hand on her knee.
"Sleep," he said.
It was an order. Elizabeth closed her eyes.
When she woke up, his hand was on her hip. She shifted, her body bumping into his. He was warm.
"You cold?" he asked her gently.
"No," she murmured, blinking her eyes and trying to fall into consciousness.
In the end, she'd thought that they'd both be stronger than this. She was weak in all her limbs, a day of hunger gnawing at her, and making her dizzy. She shivered when he touched her.
"Major, the next time that I say that I'd like to participate in an off-world mission..."
He smiled grimly. "I'll drag you into your office and tie you to your chair. No problem."
"Thank you."
Between the cracks in the stone, light flickered. Elizabeth laid her head on John's shoulder. She'd never really thought about dying out here, a million light-years from home. But she thought about it now.
"We can't." There was certainty in her voice, but none in her fingers. His mouth tasted of dust, and blood, and salt. She just wanted to be warm.
"No," he agreed.
In the end, she had thought they'd both be stronger.
sffan.In the end, she had thought that she'd be stronger than this. She'd thought they'd both be stronger.
But then the door closed, and there was nothing else.
The door closed, and Elizabeth trembled.
"You cold?" John asked her. He was calm, patient when he spoke. The anger only showed when he allowed it to, around the corners of his eyes.
She'd thought she'd be stronger.
"You should try and get some sleep," he told her quietly.
She shook her head.
"I'll keep watch." There was the anger again, barely controlled, the end of each word a hard, guttural sound. "But you need sleep. That's an order."
"Order?" she repeated, rubbing absently at her wrists, where the bonds had cut her skin.
"Sure," he answered, and she wondered how he could smile. "Unless you want to debate whether being captured by the enemy is a military situation."
"They're not our enemies." It was a reflex, without thinking. "It was a misunderstanding."
"Elizabeth."
She stopped talking. She couldn't really see him, in the darkness. She thought there was a torch burning, somewhere behind two feet of stone door, and the light crept through the cracks and hurt her eyes. All she could see were shapes, and shadows, the rough outline of John as he sat right beside her, protectively, between her and the door. And traces of movement, as he tapped one hand against his knee, over and over. She thought they might be underground. He couldn't sit still.
"I'm just glad it wasn't the Genii."
It was hard to tell sometimes, when John was joking. "Because they would have started torturing us by now?" Her voice was oddly light.
"Because it would have pissed me the fuck off. Excuse me," he added, out of habit.
She swallowed another inverted laugh, bubbling in her chest out of nowhere, and tried to breathe.
The floor was damp. She rubbed her hands together, to keep the blood flowing in her fingertips.
"It's a tactic," she said finally. "They'll have demands. Negotiations. But probably not for days." She sighed. "Otherwise..."
"We'd already be dead."
"Yes." When she closed her eyes, she could still hear him moving.
"Guess we better get comfortable, then."
"Yes." And she jumped, before realising that there was nothing hiding in the dark, only his hand on her knee.
"Sleep," he said.
It was an order. Elizabeth closed her eyes.
When she woke up, his hand was on her hip. She shifted, her body bumping into his. He was warm.
"You cold?" he asked her gently.
"No," she murmured, blinking her eyes and trying to fall into consciousness.
In the end, she'd thought that they'd both be stronger than this. She was weak in all her limbs, a day of hunger gnawing at her, and making her dizzy. She shivered when he touched her.
"Major, the next time that I say that I'd like to participate in an off-world mission..."
He smiled grimly. "I'll drag you into your office and tie you to your chair. No problem."
"Thank you."
Between the cracks in the stone, light flickered. Elizabeth laid her head on John's shoulder. She'd never really thought about dying out here, a million light-years from home. But she thought about it now.
"We can't." There was certainty in her voice, but none in her fingers. His mouth tasted of dust, and blood, and salt. She just wanted to be warm.
"No," he agreed.
In the end, she had thought they'd both be stronger.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I really like your Sheppard here, the line about the Genii and the tying to the chair, and there's something so weirdly sexy about him tasting of dust.
no subject
no subject
no subject