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sga_flashficTitle: Times And Seasons
Author: Tielan
Summary: Elizabeth places a call to set her mind - and heart - at ease.
Word Count: ~1,600
Spoilers: 3.06 - The Real World
Notes: I've had this idea since I saw The Real World. This challenge just provided impetus.
Times And Seasons
Love isn't like a tap you can turn off, a switch you can flick, a ZPM you can remove.
Sometimes, even after disappointment, it's hard to forget what went before.
Which is why Elizabeth arranged for this phone call.
It's night in Atlantis; the gateroom is full of shadows, as the city lies sleeping. She made very sure that she picked a night when Rodney's running extended tests on a device whose brief she hasn't yet had a chance to read, and a night when John's running the weekly card games in the rec room.
She rakes her hands through her hair and stares blankly at her computer screen, composing speeches in her head, thinking of what she wants to say and how she can say it without sounding like an idiot. Her palms are hot against her face, and she turns them over, laying the backs of her fingers against her cheeks to cool her flush.
Fifteen years of negotiation and diplomacy, and right now, Elizabeth wonders if she could stammer her way through hello.
As the time for the contact draws closer, her fears flood her. She wonders if she should have made the request in the first place, sending the message quietly with Caldwell. She wonders if it was a stupid thing to do, if she's going to make a fool of herself.
Well, the last goes without saying, maybe. There's no easy way to do this.
But she has to know.
Just shy of midnight, she takes a deep breath and goes out to the control room. "Sergeant Miller? Please set up the weekly report transmission and the connection I requested from before, and dial Earth."
The technician might be a little surprised at the request, but after another glance at her face, he does as she asks without question. The shimmering blue of the open wormhole flickers through the room, and the SFs on duty downstairs look up at her in query. She reassures them with a gesture, and they nod and go back to their beat.
"Stargate Command, this is Atlantis."
"Dr Weir." General Landry's voice comes through her earpiece, not through the control room speakers. "How are things in the city?"
"Busy, General," she says, forcing herself through the small talk that's usual fare for these contacts. "As usual. The weekly report is being sent now."
There's a moment of silence. "Sergeant Harriman confirms." There's a split second hesitation. "I understand that the unusual timing of this transmission has another purpose?"
"Yes," she says, stifling the instinct to apologise for the trouble. "If you're willing to grant my request."
"Well, it's a little unusual...but we have the connection you asked for." She can't see him, but she can imagine his expression, the shrewd eyes staring at the open wormhole, as if he can see her face through the glittering surface of the event horizon. "You're sure about this?"
No. "Yes." Elizabeth takes a deep breath. "Thank you for allowing me to do this. I understand there are costs--"
"Just make it fast," Landry tells her. "Sergeant Harriman is making the contact now."
Her palms are sweaty. She wipes them on her trousers and turns back towards her office. The communications line runs directly to her earpiece, and from her microphone straight through to the SGC. From the SGC, the connection will run privately through to the phone system in the SGC, and from there, out to--
"Simon Wallace's surgery, Tania speaking."
Elizabeth forces her voice to calm. "Good afternoon, Tania. Is Dr. Wallace taking calls right now?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Just..." Elizabeth swallows. "An old friend. Can you put me directly through to him?"
"One moment please." Tania's voice is light and brisk, the businesslike tones of a medical secretary who deals with everything from patients in hypochondriac panic, to bureaucratic red tape.
As the on-hold music plays it's tinny rounds in Elizabeth's head, she realises that, even more than before, she doesn't know what to say. How do you explain, 'I had an induced hallucination in which you were dead, and for all that I knew it wasn't true, it felt real and I needed to hear your voice?' How do you explain it to someone you haven't spoken to in nearly a year? How do you say it and not sound like you belong in an asylum?
"Dr. Wallace here. Can I help you?"
Simon's quiet tones fill the earpiece, and Elizabeth doesn't see the control room, the Stargate below. She's remembering the distracted look in his eyes, the absent-minded way he'd answer the phone, his attention on something else until he heard her voice on the line and his attention would shift to her.
"Hello?"
Quiet and stubborn in his own way, clinging to the things he knew, unwilling to take a step into the beyond. Giving up on her, even if she'd been gone without a hope of return. It hurts to know that she was put aside in less than a year when she missed him and his solidarity so much in those first few months.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
Elizabeth's fingers brush across the top of her desk - her office, her city, her people.
She'd loved this man - he'd been her anchor when she needed a home to return to after negotiations that left her drained and exhausted. He'd been her safe haven when she came in from the storm. All the terrible clichés of the anchor and the wanderer had been utterly, completely right for Simon Wallace and Elizabeth Weir.
Somewhere - unmarred by the fact that he gave up on them so fast, untainted by the fact that he let her believe that things were okay between them for the better part of three weeks before he told her there was someone else - she still loves him, remembers him with affection and care. In the dream, his death was like a cold shadow, stealing across her sunlight.
Bad enough to lose Atlantis, worse to also lose what she had given up to gain Atlantis in the first place.
"Hello." She manages that much at least, although her voice croaks through her throat.
"Can I help you?"
He'd loved the woman she'd been on Earth.
Elizabeth turns and surveys the gateroom and the people within it. She thinks of the city beyond this room, six piers stretching out into the sea from this central space. Four hundred people who look to her for leadership and guidance.
If Simon had come to Atlantis, could he have loved Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition? How would he have dealt with John and Rodney - the two of them so confrontational, yet her closest friends and allies in the city? What would he have thought of Teyla's gentle formality, Carson's quiet genius, and Ronon's rough protectiveness?
What would he have thought of the woman she's become?
There are tears in her eyes, blending the shadows beyond into wavering watercolours.
Elizabeth is relieved that he's alive - that she can hear his voice, but she knows it's over between them. What's done is done and cannot be undone. These negotiations are over and this chapter of her life is closed, complete with poignant epilogue.
"No," she manages, grateful for the lump in her throat that makes it difficult to speak. Without it, he'd recognise her voice. As it is, she hopes he's busy enough not to realise who's called him, just to hear his voice. "You can't help me. I'm sorry to waste your time, Dr. Wallace." So formal, so careful, so final. "Thank you." A tap of the earpiece changes the channel to the SGC control room band. "Please end the call, Sergeant."
"Yes, ma'am."
There are a few moments of silence before General Landry asks, "Dr. Weir?"
Elizabeth's already used those few precious seconds to regain her self-possession. "General. Thank you for allowing me that call."
"You're welcome, although I understand it's been a rough couple of days."
"You could say that."
"Be assured that we're going to take it out of you sooner or later."
She smiles a little. Expecting anything less from the Air Force would be stupid. "Have a good afternoon, General."
"And a good evening to you, Doctor."
Sergeant Miller terminates the wormhole to Earth. Elizabeth gives him a nod before she retreats back to her office. If the Sergeant has questions inside his head for the unscheduled contact, he doesn't ask them. Maybe he'll speculate about them later when he's off-duty.
She hopes not. The last thing she needs or wants is to be the talk of the city for a call to an old flame.
A movement outside her office catches her eye. She expects John, or possibly Rodney, alerted by some sixth sense that the Stargate was opened. Instead, Ronon rests his shoulder against the doorjamb, lean and casual. His head tilts, questioning her presence here. "Still working?"
"No," she says as she stands up. "Just finished."
His grin flashes, a brilliant light in the intense features. "So, you going to come for a run?"
Elizabeth bites back a laugh. Ronon's invitation is so casual: easy if she comes, easy if she doesn't. She appreciates the attempt to draw her out - not many people in the expedition bother. "Not tonight," she tells him. "It's past my bedtime."
Another shrug sends his dreadlocks bouncing across the well-muscled lines of his shoulders. "Tomorrow?"
She grins. He gets full marks for persistence. "Maybe." A quick glance and nod at the sergeant and she heads for the corridor to the personnel quarters.
"I'll ask," he warns, keeping easy stride with her.
"And I expect you to," she returns, before indicating the direction of his usual running route. "Go."
Ronon flashes another grin at her, then starts off on his run, his hair bounding around his throat and shoulders as he goes, his movements brisk and energetic as he vanishes around the corner.
Elizabeth smiles as she walks to her room.
Love isn't something that you can just switch off. But to everything there is a season and a time; and the time and season for Simon Wallace in Elizabeth's life has come and gone.
It's really over.
- fin -
Final Notes: I was seriously pissed off when they had Simon dump Elizabeth the way he did. Drifted apart? Fine. Decide he doesn't want to go to Atlantis? Fine. Let her believe things are okay for two weeks before announcing he's met someone else? So Very Tacky. So I consider this my closure. Sort of. *sulks*
Author: Tielan
Summary: Elizabeth places a call to set her mind - and heart - at ease.
Word Count: ~1,600
Spoilers: 3.06 - The Real World
Notes: I've had this idea since I saw The Real World. This challenge just provided impetus.
Times And Seasons
Love isn't like a tap you can turn off, a switch you can flick, a ZPM you can remove.
Sometimes, even after disappointment, it's hard to forget what went before.
Which is why Elizabeth arranged for this phone call.
It's night in Atlantis; the gateroom is full of shadows, as the city lies sleeping. She made very sure that she picked a night when Rodney's running extended tests on a device whose brief she hasn't yet had a chance to read, and a night when John's running the weekly card games in the rec room.
She rakes her hands through her hair and stares blankly at her computer screen, composing speeches in her head, thinking of what she wants to say and how she can say it without sounding like an idiot. Her palms are hot against her face, and she turns them over, laying the backs of her fingers against her cheeks to cool her flush.
Fifteen years of negotiation and diplomacy, and right now, Elizabeth wonders if she could stammer her way through hello.
As the time for the contact draws closer, her fears flood her. She wonders if she should have made the request in the first place, sending the message quietly with Caldwell. She wonders if it was a stupid thing to do, if she's going to make a fool of herself.
Well, the last goes without saying, maybe. There's no easy way to do this.
But she has to know.
Just shy of midnight, she takes a deep breath and goes out to the control room. "Sergeant Miller? Please set up the weekly report transmission and the connection I requested from before, and dial Earth."
The technician might be a little surprised at the request, but after another glance at her face, he does as she asks without question. The shimmering blue of the open wormhole flickers through the room, and the SFs on duty downstairs look up at her in query. She reassures them with a gesture, and they nod and go back to their beat.
"Stargate Command, this is Atlantis."
"Dr Weir." General Landry's voice comes through her earpiece, not through the control room speakers. "How are things in the city?"
"Busy, General," she says, forcing herself through the small talk that's usual fare for these contacts. "As usual. The weekly report is being sent now."
There's a moment of silence. "Sergeant Harriman confirms." There's a split second hesitation. "I understand that the unusual timing of this transmission has another purpose?"
"Yes," she says, stifling the instinct to apologise for the trouble. "If you're willing to grant my request."
"Well, it's a little unusual...but we have the connection you asked for." She can't see him, but she can imagine his expression, the shrewd eyes staring at the open wormhole, as if he can see her face through the glittering surface of the event horizon. "You're sure about this?"
No. "Yes." Elizabeth takes a deep breath. "Thank you for allowing me to do this. I understand there are costs--"
"Just make it fast," Landry tells her. "Sergeant Harriman is making the contact now."
Her palms are sweaty. She wipes them on her trousers and turns back towards her office. The communications line runs directly to her earpiece, and from her microphone straight through to the SGC. From the SGC, the connection will run privately through to the phone system in the SGC, and from there, out to--
"Simon Wallace's surgery, Tania speaking."
Elizabeth forces her voice to calm. "Good afternoon, Tania. Is Dr. Wallace taking calls right now?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"Just..." Elizabeth swallows. "An old friend. Can you put me directly through to him?"
"One moment please." Tania's voice is light and brisk, the businesslike tones of a medical secretary who deals with everything from patients in hypochondriac panic, to bureaucratic red tape.
As the on-hold music plays it's tinny rounds in Elizabeth's head, she realises that, even more than before, she doesn't know what to say. How do you explain, 'I had an induced hallucination in which you were dead, and for all that I knew it wasn't true, it felt real and I needed to hear your voice?' How do you explain it to someone you haven't spoken to in nearly a year? How do you say it and not sound like you belong in an asylum?
"Dr. Wallace here. Can I help you?"
Simon's quiet tones fill the earpiece, and Elizabeth doesn't see the control room, the Stargate below. She's remembering the distracted look in his eyes, the absent-minded way he'd answer the phone, his attention on something else until he heard her voice on the line and his attention would shift to her.
"Hello?"
Quiet and stubborn in his own way, clinging to the things he knew, unwilling to take a step into the beyond. Giving up on her, even if she'd been gone without a hope of return. It hurts to know that she was put aside in less than a year when she missed him and his solidarity so much in those first few months.
"Hello? Is anyone there?"
Elizabeth's fingers brush across the top of her desk - her office, her city, her people.
She'd loved this man - he'd been her anchor when she needed a home to return to after negotiations that left her drained and exhausted. He'd been her safe haven when she came in from the storm. All the terrible clichés of the anchor and the wanderer had been utterly, completely right for Simon Wallace and Elizabeth Weir.
Somewhere - unmarred by the fact that he gave up on them so fast, untainted by the fact that he let her believe that things were okay between them for the better part of three weeks before he told her there was someone else - she still loves him, remembers him with affection and care. In the dream, his death was like a cold shadow, stealing across her sunlight.
Bad enough to lose Atlantis, worse to also lose what she had given up to gain Atlantis in the first place.
"Hello." She manages that much at least, although her voice croaks through her throat.
"Can I help you?"
He'd loved the woman she'd been on Earth.
Elizabeth turns and surveys the gateroom and the people within it. She thinks of the city beyond this room, six piers stretching out into the sea from this central space. Four hundred people who look to her for leadership and guidance.
If Simon had come to Atlantis, could he have loved Elizabeth Weir, leader of the Atlantis expedition? How would he have dealt with John and Rodney - the two of them so confrontational, yet her closest friends and allies in the city? What would he have thought of Teyla's gentle formality, Carson's quiet genius, and Ronon's rough protectiveness?
What would he have thought of the woman she's become?
There are tears in her eyes, blending the shadows beyond into wavering watercolours.
Elizabeth is relieved that he's alive - that she can hear his voice, but she knows it's over between them. What's done is done and cannot be undone. These negotiations are over and this chapter of her life is closed, complete with poignant epilogue.
"No," she manages, grateful for the lump in her throat that makes it difficult to speak. Without it, he'd recognise her voice. As it is, she hopes he's busy enough not to realise who's called him, just to hear his voice. "You can't help me. I'm sorry to waste your time, Dr. Wallace." So formal, so careful, so final. "Thank you." A tap of the earpiece changes the channel to the SGC control room band. "Please end the call, Sergeant."
"Yes, ma'am."
There are a few moments of silence before General Landry asks, "Dr. Weir?"
Elizabeth's already used those few precious seconds to regain her self-possession. "General. Thank you for allowing me that call."
"You're welcome, although I understand it's been a rough couple of days."
"You could say that."
"Be assured that we're going to take it out of you sooner or later."
She smiles a little. Expecting anything less from the Air Force would be stupid. "Have a good afternoon, General."
"And a good evening to you, Doctor."
Sergeant Miller terminates the wormhole to Earth. Elizabeth gives him a nod before she retreats back to her office. If the Sergeant has questions inside his head for the unscheduled contact, he doesn't ask them. Maybe he'll speculate about them later when he's off-duty.
She hopes not. The last thing she needs or wants is to be the talk of the city for a call to an old flame.
A movement outside her office catches her eye. She expects John, or possibly Rodney, alerted by some sixth sense that the Stargate was opened. Instead, Ronon rests his shoulder against the doorjamb, lean and casual. His head tilts, questioning her presence here. "Still working?"
"No," she says as she stands up. "Just finished."
His grin flashes, a brilliant light in the intense features. "So, you going to come for a run?"
Elizabeth bites back a laugh. Ronon's invitation is so casual: easy if she comes, easy if she doesn't. She appreciates the attempt to draw her out - not many people in the expedition bother. "Not tonight," she tells him. "It's past my bedtime."
Another shrug sends his dreadlocks bouncing across the well-muscled lines of his shoulders. "Tomorrow?"
She grins. He gets full marks for persistence. "Maybe." A quick glance and nod at the sergeant and she heads for the corridor to the personnel quarters.
"I'll ask," he warns, keeping easy stride with her.
"And I expect you to," she returns, before indicating the direction of his usual running route. "Go."
Ronon flashes another grin at her, then starts off on his run, his hair bounding around his throat and shoulders as he goes, his movements brisk and energetic as he vanishes around the corner.
Elizabeth smiles as she walks to her room.
Love isn't something that you can just switch off. But to everything there is a season and a time; and the time and season for Simon Wallace in Elizabeth's life has come and gone.
It's really over.
- fin -
Final Notes: I was seriously pissed off when they had Simon dump Elizabeth the way he did. Drifted apart? Fine. Decide he doesn't want to go to Atlantis? Fine. Let her believe things are okay for two weeks before announcing he's met someone else? So Very Tacky. So I consider this my closure. Sort of. *sulks*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 01:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-29 01:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 01:30 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-29 01:18 am (UTC)Weir the neurotic, self-centered bitch
Date: 2006-09-28 01:33 pm (UTC)Re: Weir the neurotic, self-centered bitch
Date: 2006-09-28 02:22 pm (UTC)On a canon note:
If you watch the episode, Simon clearly knows that Elizabeth is leaving and will be gone for an unspecified period of time. He just doesn't know the specifics of her assignment, which puts him in the exact same position as every other family member of every other person on the Atlantis expedition. The tape is left by Elizabeth to explain the *classified* portion, ie, she makes a special request from the *President* so that she *can* tell Simon "where she is going."
On a manners note:
This is the tackiest feedback comment I've ever seen. It doesn't even comment at all on Elizabeth's actions or characterization *in the story*, it just uses it as an excuse to bash the character for something she did in an episode. Here are some tips for talking to people on lj: (1) If you have something to say about "Rising," the episode, get a livejournal, don't spam the comments of other people's stories. And (2) if you hate Elizabeth so much, don't read stories about her.
Apology
Date: 2006-09-28 04:40 pm (UTC)Re: Weir the neurotic, self-centered bitch
Date: 2006-09-29 01:23 am (UTC)If the first, then it doesn't belong in the comments of a fanfic. And I'd be interested in knowing if you spammed anyone else's Elizabeth fanfic, or if mine rated a special consideration.
If the second, then I'm not really in the habit of avoiding writing something that a fan somewhere will object to. Interpretation of canon actions is inevitably going to differ from person to person.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 01:42 pm (UTC)Terri:
Yeah, I see where you're coming from, but even when he DOES know the score, he's still a bit of a coward for not coming right out and going, Dude, I thought we were completely over, I've moved on, I'm doing the galaxy-wide job transfer thing, good bye..
Personally, I choose to think that the dead animal on his head has affected Simon's mental processes...
Either that, or it's those AU flashbacks he gets of being yet another of Carter's dead alien boyfriends...
Correction:
Date: 2006-09-28 01:43 pm (UTC)Simon
Date: 2006-09-28 04:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-29 01:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 02:34 pm (UTC)That pissed me off too. Tho I did love how in her Real World fantasy he was dead. Issues there, ya think? Great job and love Ronon at the end :)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-29 01:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 02:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 02:40 pm (UTC)"I was seriously pissed off when they had Simon dump Elizabeth the way he did. Drifted apart? Fine. Decide he doesn't want to go to Atlantis? Fine. Let her believe things are okay for two weeks before announcing he's met someone else? So Very Tacky. So I consider this my closure. Sort of. *sulks*"
Yes, yes, yes and another hell yeah!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 03:33 pm (UTC)Aw, I was kind of wondering if anyone would write a story about this after "The Return," because yeah, it never did seem like *Elizabeth* got closure, there. This was sad.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 04:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 08:34 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 08:45 pm (UTC)I really love that you gave Weir some closure; a fact that I think she desparately needed in order to move on. Ronon at the end trying to pull her out, whether it be shippy or family, was a godo bonus. Something tells me he notices a lot more than given credit for. A trait they both share.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-28 09:24 pm (UTC)Now the roles are reversed. As other people pointed out, Elizabeth went out on a limb to get Landry to approve the call in "Rising" to Simon in the first place. She couldn't write, she couldn't call - the most she could do is send a message. Coming back, she immediately wanted to share Atlantis with Simon, not in some skanky pining away sort of way but in a "hey, come with me and be a part of this adventure, there's a place for you in it" way which is more than a lot of men have been able to offer their wives/girlfriends etc.
This story is a great coda for "The Real World." Elizabeth still cares enough to make sure Simon is still alive because his memory is precious. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-29 12:05 am (UTC)Um, hunh? In "Rising" she gets the President to grant Simon security clearance to learn about the Stargate program so she can make the video tape. In this fic, Laundry puts the call through to Simon, and there's an implication he has to agree to it, though nothing is said about Elizabeth invoking any higher powers or not to make the call happen.
I imagine we're all getting confused, dealing with unwelcome trolls and all.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-29 01:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-04 05:04 am (UTC)Wow. This is a perfect tie-in to The Real World. PERFECT.
So awesome. *applauds it and then eyes Ronon's backside as goes to do that running thing*