Fic: 'Stopgap' (Stargate Atlantis, Jack/Elizabeth, PG, 1/1) Title: Stopgap Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Characters: Jack/Elizabeth Word Count: 810 Rating: PG Spoilers: 3x11 and 3x12 'The Return' Challenge: N/A Warnings: N/A Disclaimer: No one mentioned belongs to me. Summary: "If I'd known then what I know now..."
Stopgap
"If I'd known then what I know now..." Elizabeth said, more to her coffee cup than to him. She was clutching it in the death grip to end all death grips and he debated wresting it from her before it shattered. He got the impression she would shatter right along with it.
"Don't finish that," he warned. "You would've done it the same way, and you know it. Besides, if you hadn't, Daniel would've stolen a ship, gone to Pegasus, and rescued the Ancients himself. He's a little obsessed; it's probably not healthy." Jack thought he saw a ghost of a smile, albeit one that wasn't really directed at him. "Don't think about it."
Elizabeth lifted her head, raised her eyebrow at him in a look that got him every time. All right, so he was a hypocrite. She didn't have to say it, which was just as well, because it meant he didn't have to agree.
"Okay," he admitted, "you probably won't be able to stop thinking about it. But try not to think about it too much."
"It's a bit late for that," she said softly, and he couldn't help it, he felt a little guilty now. This whole thing wasn't his idea. And they both knew that assigning him to intergalactic diplomacy was not a good idea. Especially given that the Ancients weren't exactly on his Christmas card list.
He wanted to tell her it wasn't her fault, which it wasn't, but that was a platitude, and he was no good at those. Heartfelt sentiment absolving people of unnecessary guilt was Daniel's department, or Carter's, and Jack was usually there to say something pithy. Somehow he didn't think that would be appreciated in this scenario.
"How are the others doing?" he asked instead, which, judging by her expression the moment he said it, was probably a worse mistake than fumbling platitudes.
"We're not exactly..."
"Talking?" he said.
"Yes. That."
"Is that because of you, or because of them?" he said. He'd already dug himself in this deep, he might as well get to the bottom of that helpless expression.
Going out on a limb had been pointless, though, it seemed, because she chose to ignore his question and say simply, "Maybe it's just as well. I could use a break from the entire Stargate Program, anyway."
"In that case, you might want to rethink your choice in dinner guests."
"No offense, but when I think of Stargate command, you're not the first person that pops to mind."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment, I think."
He'd tried to say it lightly, but still Elizabeth sighed. "I'm sorry, Jack. The English language and I seem to be at odds today."
"Right, because that's exactly what you'd say if it were true. Far be it for Elizabeth Weir to say 'me no good with words.'"
Elizabeth laughed, and there was a genuine trace of mirth in it before the whole thing tapered off. "You were too good for that place," shes aid. "No wonder they got rid of you."
He knew that wasn't the entirety of it, knew it was barely scratching the surface, but this wasn't his forte, was even less his job, and she wouldn't want it coming from him anyway, so the remainder of it hung unspoken between them. He lay down his mug, the ground-filled dregs swishing back and forth as ceramic hit table. She'd been too distracted to brew anything quality, and he could taste the grit in his teeth.
"Elizabeth..."
It was nothing and they both knew it, and yet it seemed to be enough. Jack felt her head on his shoulder, her arm around his waist, her tears on his shirt, and the weight of an immeasurable sadness looming around them. It wasn't in either of them, not at the moment, but it hovered, waiting.
"Look, if you want to..." He didn't finish that thought, either. More and more, theirs was an existence governed by things unsaid.
Elizabeth stayed in his arms a long time. This was the comfort he wasn't allowed to give anyone else, which was fitting, since she wasn't expected to get comfort from anyone, just to take her rejection on the chin and fall into whatever role was next assigned to her as if anything that happened before barely mattered.
Jack could relate.
There was what they were told. And then there was knowing, a knowledge based on experience, intellect, and a feeling in the gut that couldn't be ignored. Being told by some contrary sons of bitches that instinct was bullshit, just because they said so, because they thought they knew better. It was all well and good for them, since they never had to deal with fallout. The Ancients would never see this proud, strong woman falling apart. They wouldn't care. But Jack did.