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 --and show TPTB that Sparky is the way to go. So sit back and enjoy the 366 stories coming your way!
AN (sparkly): OK, so this is short and I'm sorry, it was pretty much a backup fic. But I like it... And we have some more angst!
We had all taken what had happened to her hard. But the expedition members were strong. And those who knew her well respected her decision to get left behind. Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon had found comfort in each other. I, however, had opted out of solace. It wasn't what I did. I chose to think and grieve alone. I'd stand out on the balcony, silently crying.
I kept visualizing her...her curls, green eyes, her smile…Eventually months went by. We learned that she was dead. I barely smiled anymore. Sometimes I'd have angry outbursts. I still couldn't get over it.
One day McKay caught me in her old quarters, which I had yet to reassign to anyone. I was just sitting there, desperately clutching a picture of her, as if if I lost the photo, let it slip even the tiniest bit from my grip, I'd lose Elizabeth completely. Not that she wasn't already gone.
Rodney looked annoyed. I guess he was tired of my attitude, my withdrawal. He was dealing with it now and it didn't surprise me that he was finally confronting me there in her room.
"Why?" he asked, slightly tearfully. "Why do you torture yourself? Why can't you get over it?"
"Rodney…" was all I could get out.
"No, why do you care so much?"
I put my head in my hands. He said softer, "It wasn't your fault you know."
That didn't help, but maybe if my friends understood, I could become better. Be the strong military commander I needed to be. I realized I was hurting my friends and only hurting myself by not talking to them. Maybe if they understood…Maybe if I just stopped being so damn stubborn!
And so I answered his question.
Why did I care so much?
"Because I loved her."