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: Alright alright! I know this is a day late again, and while as no one else posted, I've taken something that I wrote a while ago but never posted. So I hope you enjoy, this came to me while I was thinking about season 4 Sparky (SPOILERS here for Adrift/Lifeline and Sunday) and then somehow Mike Branton. This is told from his point of view. For the purposes of this story, Elizabeth is dead (sorry!).
No Pain To Compare
That day she left Atlantis we were all hit hard. She had been a great leader and even those who didn't know her as well as they might have known someone they worked next to, we all knew enough to realize it would be hard without her. She was a caring person with a great personality. She was strong. Elizabeth Weir had gained our respect.
In my case she had also gained my affections. It hit me hardest of my friends. As much as it hurt McKay, Teyla, Ronon, and Sheppard, I thought.
I had had feelings for our leader. It must have started from watching her from afar. A couple of times I had spoken to her. A few times I had given her a report. Now and then passed her on a hallway.
Then that Sunday I had gotten a chance. I had walked into her office. We had lunch together. She even dressed up for it. She had been smiling, and we talked about trivial things. The kiss was a sweet kiss.
Though she turned me down that day, I had still planned to convince her to take that personal risk. Thinking back to our lunch my heart constricted. I know my friends were confused about how I felt. They didn't understand why it was so hard for me. One time they told me off, saying I had no right to act the way I was acting. They said that we all cared about her, and I shouldn't be in the state that I was in.
But they just didn't get it. Yeah, maybe I didn't love her, but I had felt something. That didn't damn well give me the right to grieve? At least, that's what I thought at the time.
Then one evening I stepped out on to a balcony for a moment alone. Immediately I had felt like an intruder.
Atlantis' commanding military officer, John Sheppard, stood there with thick night air surrounding him. I had felt as though I didn't belong there, but that someone was missing.
He had turned his head to look at me and I had been surprised to see a tear-stained face, trying to look strong. It hadn't worked. His eyes had been haunted.
"Sorry, sir, I didn't know anyone was out here." I had stumbled across the words, numb at the emotion that so obviously held the Colonel. At that moment I hadn't known why he was like that.
He had just nodded his head and I had turned to leave.
The doors hadn't shut behind be yet when he spoke. But not to me, instead to the dusky sky, with the two moons just starting to show their light. I guessed he hadn't realized I was still standing near.
"God I hate this!" He had bitten out, loudly, fiercely. He had slammed his fists onto the railing and leaned hi s head against them. He let out a choked sob and the next thing he said made my thoughts stop for a second.
"I miss you so much, Elizabeth." It had been said softly and it was then I understood the emptiness of the balcony. The reason he was in so much grief, as obvious from just a stolen glance, was because she was supposed to be out here right now with him. He had been crying over our fallen leader. Suddenly everything my friends had been trying to tell me made so much more sense. I had cared about Dr. Weir, but clearly John Sheppard's pain was worse than mine. Way worse. How could I have been ignorant of that? And suddenly I not only felt ignorant, but selfish and insignificant. How foolish had I been to think I hurt as much as he did. My pain could never compare to his.
They had been best friends as well as co-leaders of the city. They had cared for each other a lot. And no matter what I had learned about her liking "When Harry Met Sally" more than "Annie Hall", he would always know her better. It couldn't have been more obvious, I had thought then, how much more than friendship they had both wished for and already had.
Maybe that was why she had turned me down. She never had finished that sentence.
The anger and sadness had just emanated from him. I had wanted to leave. It was all too much. To Atlantis he had shown how much he hated the fact that they had left Elizabeth, but his face – his eyes – had remained stoic.
While I had been watching him that night, I now saw the most despair I'd ever seen. Right then I vowed to stop complaining and to stop thinking I cared like the Colonel did.
I had made a small step forward, ready to leave, when he said one more thing I caught.
"I'm sorry, Elizabeth, for everything that's ever happened, for everything I never apologized for…"
I couldn't begin to be empathetic. I doubted he wanted anyone's sympathy though anyway. All I could do was hope he'd be alright. And if not for his sake, for hers. Because no doubt she was looking down on him, anguished by the fact that it was for her he was in such agony, and wholeheartedly forgiving him for all those things he never had apologized for.