Title: Lights Out 
Author: A.j. 
Rating: PG 
Spoilers: '38-Minutes' episode addition, John/Lizzie 
Notes: Um. I'm brain dead and this seemed like a really good idea. So. Yeah. 
 
Summary: It's 3am and she can't sleep. 
 
*** 
 
Her quarters were quiet and dark except for her desk lamp. Supply reports, 
complaints, and a single copy of Lt. Ford's mission review were spread across 
the makeshift table currently serving as her desk. 
 
The clutter felt good. Felt real. 
 
God, she needed sleep. 
 
Too bad that wasn't happening for awhile. 
 
Today was... definitely not something she'd want to repeat. Ever. How the 
hell had she ended up doing this again? Oh, right. She'd volunteered. Mostly. 
 
Dropping the stylus with exaggerated care, Liz ground the heels of her hands 
into her eye sockets. Thirty-seven hours without sleep.  
 
Thirty-seven. Heh. 
 
Oh, hell. If she kept this up, Beckett was going to either relieve her of 
command or tranq her and make her get up and do it all over again. 
 
Lord in heaven. She'd almost lost six people. *Six people*. 
 
It was no wonder she couldn't seem to get her body to let go. A set of 
rumpled sheets attested to her attempt, but every time she closed her eyes, 
she kept seeing the open gate. Or the jumper sliced in half, bodies drifting 
in space. 
 
Or John with some huge contorted spider sucking his life out. 
 
Liz sighed and dropped her head to the desk with a quiet thump. No, she 
definitely wasn't getting sleep any time soon. 
 
Not with her body shaking like this. 
 
Slowly, she stood, her spine cracking as she straightened. A walk would do 
her good. Settle her nerves. Wear her out. Something. 
 
Scooping up her discarded jacket, Liz made for the door, not even noticing 
when the lights flickered and blinked out behind her. 
 
*** 
 
Forty-five minutes later, she found herself standing outside the doors to the 
med bay. Inside, the lights were dim, but she could see a duty nurse doing 
strange pen tricks at her desk. Given that they'd only been there a few weeks 
and that her only patient was probably asleep - the paperwork long filled out 
and filed - Liz didn't feel the need to chew her out. 
 
After all, she was the trespasser here. 
 
Not that she was all that sure why she was here... 
 
Okay, that was a total lie and even her sleep-starved brain wouldn't let it 
pass. She was here to check up on Major John Sheppard. And there wasn't 
anything wrong with that. At all. Really. 
 
And she officially needed to get over herself. 
 
The doors made their normal swishing sound, apparently anticipating her 
decision to enter, and the decision was out of her hands. She waved to the 
suddenly alert nurse and motioned at the only occupied bed. 
 
The woman - Susan? Suzie? - shook her head and gave an aggrieved smile before 
waving her on. "Go for it. He's been quiet for a bit, but I doubt he's 
asleep." 
 
"Oh?" Blinking, Liz made out the woman's nametag. 'Lewis'. Suzanne Lewis. 
Thirty-two. Practicing RN for UN health units for the last six years. 
Certified in trauma, triage, and women's health. Hailed from Fairfax, 
Virginia. 
 
"Yeah." The younger woman tugged on her ponytail and snickered. "Ford came in 
bearing one of his special cans of Jolt cola. I think the only reason Major 
Sheppard isn't crawling on the ceiling is the earlier paralysis." 
 
She really tried not to wince. 
 
Showing some rather impressive perception, Suzie patted her on the arm and 
pointed at the now-still doors. "Hey, I'm going to get some tea. Would you 
mind keeping an eye on the patient for a few minutes? Johannes was supposed 
to spell me about twenty minutes ago." 
 
"Sure. Take your time." 
 
The nurse smiled and walked out. The rubber of her shoes making a slight 
squeaking noise. 
 
Cautiously, Liz edged around the partition and made her way back toward Major 
Sheppard's bed. Someone had pulled the privacy curtain, so all she could make 
out from this distance was the slight outline of something lumpy. 
 
Taking care to be as quiet as possible, she ducked her head around the 
curtain... and came face to feet with a very awake Major. 
 
"Er. Hi." 
 
"Hey, Dr. Weir. How goes?" Nope, definitely not asleep. She could barely make 
his eyes out with the lighting low as it was. He was still on his back, 
propped slightly up by the bed and pillows. His IV bag was half-used. All in 
all, he looked about as fit as one would expect. 
 
She tried a smile. It probably came out more like a grimace, but what could 
you do? "Oh, you know." 
 
"Shouldn't you be asleep or something?" 
 
"Probably. But after the third dream about demented ducks pecking me to death 
with straws, I decided to give up the ghost." 
 
"Huh. Your head's weirder than mine." 
 
Elizabeth smiled at him, feeling her shoulders loosen a little. More serious, 
she tilted her head. "So how are you really doing?" 
 
The grimace that flashed across his features said more than he probably 
wanted. "Oh, you know. With the lack of numb comes pins and needles like you 
wouldn't believe." 
 
"I'm sorry." Whoa. That came out... way more serious than she'd meant. But he 
knew what she was talking about. 
 
"Hey. I know. Me too." 
 
"I..." She stopped. She'd know this was why she'd ended up here. Wow, was she 
bad at lying to herself this week. She shuffled her feet and crossed her arms 
before looking at him dead on. "I'm sorry we had that disagreement earlier." 
 
Sheppard shook his head. 
 
"No. I need to apologize to you." Her head started to shake a negative 
response, but that was belayed by the hand he held up. "I'm not kidding, Dr. 
Weir. I shouldn't have called you into question like that. It was thoughtless 
and I was being an ass." 
 
"Major Sheppard, I'd be remiss if I didn't encourage your censor." Limbs 
feeling suddenly heavy, she leaned back against the second gurney, causing it 
to squeak under her sudden weight. She ran a hand over her forehead, puzzled 
to feel the slight curling of strands. Damn humidity. "I'm not perfect. And 
I'm going to need someone to point that out to me eventually. And I think 
you're going to need the same treatment." 
 
"Formal tonight, huh?" 
 
She sighed again. "Lack of sleep." 
 
"Well, you do have a point." His voice sounded resigned and more than a bit 
pained. "Neither of us is perfect. And if this is going to work, we're going 
to have to do it together, aren't we?" 
 
She nodded and tugged at her collar. "I think so." 
 
He shrugged. Paused. And grinned. "Well, in that case..." 
 
"No!" Voice louder than expected, she did a quick recon of the area. Seeing 
that the nurse was still gone, she turned to glare at him again. "Whatever 
you're going to say? No." 
 
"Hey! You don't even know what I was going to ask!" 
 
She glared, eyes narrowing. "You're using the exact same tone my brothers did 
when they wanted to trick me out of bookmobile money." 
 
He snickered. "You have brothers?" 
 
"Two." 
 
"Evil?" 
 
"Pure." Nickel-stealing wastrels. No matter that James was the father of 
three and Robert was making more money than their father. They were still 
bastards. "But they fear the power of the noogie." 
 
"Heh. No. Seriously." 
 
"Fine, what?" 
 
"Since we're going to probably be spending a lot of time together..." He 
raised a suggestive eyebrow and snorted when she raised her own. "...I think 
we should stick with 'John' and 'Elizabeth' in off hours, okay? It's weird to 
hear you call me 'Major Sheppard' in the dark." 
 
She sighed and nodded. As requests went, it was a small thing. And really? 
Her brain had been calling him 'John' since they were introduced. "Sounds 
good." 
 
"Can I call you 'Liz' then?" 
 
"No." 
 
"Aww, why?" Dear, lord. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, but the pout was 
even cuter in low light. If she'd been sure it wouldn't suffocate him, she 
would have smacked him with the extra pillow. 
 
Slowly, so he could understand the importance of her words, she responded, 
"Because it's not my name?" 
 
His teeth flashed, and it occurred to her that she'd smiled more in the last 
ten minutes than she'd done in the last week. There was just something about 
Major Shep- JOHN that made it downright impossible to keep a straight face 
when he wasn't in serious-mode. 
 
Yeah, he and Jack O'Neill really were from the same swath of existential 
cloth. 
 
God help them all. 
 
"Aww..." Ack. Dimples!? 
 
"*NO*." 
 
He grinned wider. Still, he nodded his head and waved her on. "Fine, fine. 
You go to bed and get some sleep. You look dead on your feet. And I know of 
which I speak because I kind of *was* dead earlier." 
 
It somehow was funnier when he said it. She smiled. For real this time. It 
was interrupted by a yawn, the likes of which her face had not felt since 
grad school. She nodded and edged back towards the curtain. Just as she 
passed by the white sheet of cloth, she turned back over her shoulder and 
waved. "Night, John."  
 
His own grin was mischievous, bordering on downright evil. "Night, Lizzie." 
 
- fin -