We, the Sparky Army, decree 2008 to be the Year of the Spark. We pledge to post a new sparky story or chapter of a sparky story every day from January 1, 2008 to December 31, 2008. Though the Powers that Be have removed Elizabeth Weir from the regular cast of Stargate Atlantis, we feel that she remains an integral part of the show, and that the relationship between her and John Sheppard is too obvious to be ignored. We hope that you, and anyone might happen to read these works, agree.

And if that isn't official enough for you, we don't know what is. Seriously, guys, we're just trying to have some fun--and show TPTB that Sparky is the way to go. So sit back and enjoy the 366 stories coming your way!

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Disclaimer: Not mine…if they were, I'd be rich, TPTB wouldn't be and Sparky shippers and Elizabeth fans would be happy!
Note from author (Stargatecrazy): This is mainly from Elizabeth's point of view but it isn't first person (so when she isn't awake we don't know what's going on). It is mainly John and Elizabeth but there is a nice dose of Carson and Rodney. (Not much of Teyla or Ronon though because I find them harder to write-sorry) Enjoy this angst filled fic. (Yes more angst!)

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Dark Dreams

By Stargatecrazy

--Fear is the dark room inside you where negatives are developed.

She entered his quarters. There was a small slit of light coming from where the curtains just failed to meet. The rest of the room was hidden in shadow. There was no sound. Nothing, except for the quiet drip of liquid. It was so quiet she wondered if she was even hearing it at all.

Dreading what was coming, she carefully stepped around the bed in the middle of the room. She headed towards the noise. Closing her eyes she took the final step and breathed in deeply.

She could smell it now. She could smell the destruction. She could feel a sense of evil on the floor in front of her. With one more breath she opened her eyes. There he was. Laid in his own blood and decay. His wrists were slit and the Atlantean point of origin symbol had been cut into his chest. The blood from his injuries pooled on the floor beneath him.

On the wall written, in what could only be blood, were the words, 'The fear of death is more to be dreaded than death itself but the fear of a friend's death is to be dreaded severely.'

She looked down at her hands. They were covered in the scarlet fluid. The blood. His blood. And in her right hand she held a dagger covered in the same crimson liquid. She did the only thing she could in that situation, she screamed.

She woke covered in a cold sweat. Her hands gripped the soaked bed sheets and her skin tone was a couple of shades paler than it should have been. Frantically she turned her hands over checking them for any trace of her nightmare. There was nothing.

This was the fifth night in a row. For five nights she had seen the dead body of John Sheppard. For five nights she had feared that her nightmares might come true. For five nights she had feared that she would kill him. For five nights Elizabeth Weir had not had a proper night's sleep…

As the memory of the dream flooded back to her, like it always did, Elizabeth threw back the covers of her bed and ran into her bathroom. For the fifth time in those five nights she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. It was here where John found her, five minutes later after receiving no response from her radio. She was still bent over the toilet heaving for all she was worth.

"Elizabeth! What's happened?!" John crouched down next to her and held Elizabeth's hair from her face as he gently rubbed her back.

Eventually there was nothing left for Elizabeth to throw up and she sat with her back against the toilet, silent tears flowing down her cheeks, not even acknowledging John's presence.

"Elizabeth?" John whispered.

The concern in his voice almost made Elizabeth heave again. John got up from his place next to her on the floor and got her a glass of water which Elizabeth took gratefully.

"I…" John looked back at Elizabeth as she started to speak. "I keep having nightmares John. Not the normal ones everyone has about the Wraith but….I…I walk into your quarters….and….and" she started to choke on her tears.

"Shh," John sat down next to her again and for the second time that night gently rubbed her back. "It's okay Elizabeth. It's alright."

He reached over and pulled her to him. Elizabeth leant her head on his chest and forced herself to hold back more tears.

"As I walk into your quarters," she carried on. "I hear dripping and walk to the other side of your bed and...you're...on the floor…in a pool of…blood with…your wrists slit and an Ancient letter – it looks like the Atlantean point of origin symbol - calved into your chest. I look down at my….my….hands….they're covered in blood too. On the wall…there are words written in the blood…..and when I…when I….look down at my hands again….there…there's a dagger in them covered in blood too. I killed you John….me. I…"

She burst into tears again. John sat with her as long as she needed. Softly whispering words of comfort and brushing her curls away from her face when they fell against her cheeks. Seeing her this way made his heart break and he wished there was more he could do to comfort her.

John looked back down at Elizabeth and noticed that she'd fallen asleep in his arms. He smiled to himself. Maybe he could get Carson to prescribe her some sleeping pills. If sleeping pills would help. It upset him that she wasn't sleeping properly and having nightmares. Nightmares so terrible that it made her physically ill. But what upset him the most was the fact that he was involved in Elizabeth's torment. It made him feel as if it was his fault.

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Sorry it's a short start. The chapters differ in size but are mostly large! So yey! Lol. And I promise. This does get better!