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 who 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!

Note: Short little ficlet that has been bouncing around my head since I had my wisdom teeth. Oxycodone and I have deep philosophical differences, to put it mildly. It's kind of short and not terribly brilliant, but I hope you like it.

Oxycodone
By Myriad (Myriadragon)

"Have you been listening to a word I've been saying?" Rodney demanded.

"Huh? Of course I have," John said, though in truth his thoughts had been far away from Rodney's lab and the quantum-photon-quasar-whatever-the-heck-it-was he was working on. He'd been thinking of Elizabeth, wondering if Carson had actually managed to convince her not to go straight back to work after leaving the infirmary.

Of course, if Carson had just let him stay with her, he wouldn't be sitting here worrying about her. Yeah, it was just a dislocated shoulder—but those hurt like hell, and besides, Elizabeth would probably think it was nothing and try to go back to work as usual. If he just knew she was resting—

"You're ignoring me again," Rodney said petulantly.

"Come one, Rodney, you know I don't understand half the things you say anyway," John said. The lab door slid open and he shot to his feet, seeing Elizabeth in the doorway.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" she said quietly.

"Sure," he said quickly, half-running to the door.

"Hey!" Rodney protested as the door slid shut again.

"I see Carson didn't manage to make you go to bed," John said.

"Not immediately," Elizabeth said. She took a step back and wobbled slightly.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, fingers brushing the elbow of her uninjured arm.

"No," Elizabeth said honestly. She shook her head. "It's the drugs Carson has me taking. Oxycodon and I do not agree with one another. I just—I can't concentrate right now, I can barely stand up because it's thrown my balance off—" She stopped herself and sighed. "If I could just transfer command to you for a few hours while I wait for it to wear off—"

"Of course," John said quickly. He didn't like the way she was looking—her skin was too pale and her eyes kept losing focus. "Do you want me to walk you to your quarters?"

"No, it's—well, maybe." Elizabeth blinked rapidly. "I can lean against the wall if I need to."

"I'll walk with you," John said, and they started off down the hall. He decided it was better if they didn't talk; with Elizabeth fuzzy from the drugs, she needed to concentrate on walking.

They reached her room and she waved open the door, not caring enough to protest when he followed her in. Elizabeth went to her bed, sat, and carefully unlaced her shoes. She managed to pull the left one off, but the right one stayed firmly in place despite her tugs. John knelt and took her ankle in one hand, slipping the shoe off with the other.

"Thanks," she muttered, and he laughed quietly.

"I don't do so well with Oxycodone myself," John told her as she lay back. "Why do you think I hate the infirmary so much?"

"I thought it was—because you got bored," she said groggily.

"That, too." He laid a hand on her ankle. "Go to sleep, Elizabeth. Atlantis will still be here when the drugs wear off."

Elizabeth didn't answer. He smiled and squeezed her ankle before leaving her to her nap.