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His Girl Friday	By : Starbug Category: Stargate: SG-1 > Stargate Atlantis Views: 4243 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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�Look Elizabeth, you really need to know how to use a weapon.� Sheppard stood holding the Beretta, �You can't rely on me being there to save you next time.�

�But I don't like guns.� Weir protested, �I've spent my life professional trying to stop them from being used.�

�And in a perfect universe, they wouldn't be needed.� Sheppard pointed at a line of empty cans he had set up on a rock a few feet away and pulled the trigger; the first target flipped up into the air, �But this is not a perfect universe,� He motioned towards the dead bear-like creature that had attacked their camp the day before, �as yesterday proved.�

�I don't supposed 'I just don't want to' is a valid excuse?� Weir asked hopefully as she slowly made her way over.

�No.� Sheppard handed the gun over, �And neither is a note from your parents excusing you from gym.�

�Ok, but don't say I didn't warn you...� Weir reluctantly lifted the weapon, pointed it in the general direction of the target. Closing her eyes, she pulled the trigger. The shot went wide, missing the target entirely and hitting a nearby rock, the ricocheted, forcing them both to duck as it passed back their way.

�Well, the first thing you need to do is keep your eyes open. And your posture needs improvement.� Sheppard stood directly behind her, holding her body against his own. �Your legs need to be further apart for balance.� Weir felt his foot move between her legs and move them apart, then is hands moved to her thighs, straightening them. Without breaking contact they slid up to her waist. �You also need to straighten up to keep your centre of gravity stable. You should lean slightly over the front foot to compensate for Recoil.�

The feel of his hands on her hot body sent a shiver down her spine, making her pupils dilate. The feeling intensified as his hands moved up further, one snaking round to her flat stomach, pulling it back, pressing their bodies together tightly. Surprisingly soft finger continued to roam across Weir's body, adjusting her stance ever so slightly, and leaving a burning sensation wherever they touched skin. The moved up to her neck and held her head straight. Sheppard rested his chin on her shoulder, his soft breath right next to her ear.

�Take a deep breath, and let half of it out: it'll keep your hand steady.� His voice seemed almost a purr in her ear, �Then squeeze the trigger smoothly.�

Breathing deeply, Weir somehow managed to stop herself from gasping as Sheppard's hands slid along her arms, covering her hands as they held the gun.

�Just visualize what you want, and go for it.� His voice was barely above a whisper, �Then take a deep breath, and do it.� Weir didn't even notice she'd pulled the trigger until a bullet hole appeared dead centre on the distant target and it flipped up high into the air. Sheppard smiled, �Bull's-eye!�

Weir remained motionless for a few seconds, unable to even breath: she wasn't sure if it was the lingering affects of the concussion, or the painkillers she was on, but suddenly she felt a lot hotter than she had just a few minutes before. Forcing herself to take a step forward, she flicked the safety catch on.

�We're running low on water.� She managed to keep her voice level, �We should go collect those canteens you dropped yesterday.�

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The walk down to the river was made in silence, neither of them wanting to discus what had almost happened between them. In many respects, the attraction had always been there, from the moment they first met in Antarctica. In fact, it went back before then: Weir didn't remember it, but they had first met over a month before General O'Neill's visit. finding it almost impossible to get hair dye, Weir had decided to stop colouring her hair for the first time since collage, and her dark roots where just starting to show through, something that made her stand out in a crowd, even somewhere like McMurdo Station. He hadn't been surprised when she'd brushed past him in a corridor at the base, deep in conversation with a scientist he would later learn was Rodney McKay: there were always people coming and going at the airbase, so he wasn't surprised that she hadn't given him a second thought.

The second time had been when he'd been assigned to fly supplies between the McMurdo and the Ancient Outpost berried under the ice. He'd been running through the last of the pre-flight checks when he heard the rear passenger door open and felt a blast of frozen air hit him in the back of the neck. He'd turned round, intending to snap the thoughtless passengers head off when he saw who it was; even buried under layers of thick, thermal clothing and with her face half-hidden by the wool lining of her coat's hood, there had been no mistaking who it was. While he hadn't been cleared on just who she was or what exactly was going on in the middle of the Antarctic wilderness, he knew enough to know that what ever it was it was important, and it was probably best not to upset someone with enough pull to get their own helicopter in a part of the world where transport was always at a premium. She'd only nodded to him before pulling out a stack of paperwork and started reading.

Despite her slightly aloof attitude back then, or perhaps because of it, he'd been intrigued, and had done a little digging, trying to work out just who she was and what she was doing in Antarctica. He hadn't found much; his rather chequered service record had somewhat limited the information he'd been able to get, and given the rather limited access to the satellite-communications system they had in McMurdo, he hadn't been able to simple Google 'Dr Elizabeth Weir'. So he had given up, at least for the time being, and went back to trying to enjoy what he was sure would be his last tour of duty; the Air Force hadn't been working out too well for him back then, but it let him indulge his passion for flying, so he was willing to stick with it, at least for a little longer.

Then he had met General O'Neill and had been forced to dodge an accidentally launched Drone, and his life had gotten that little bit more complicated.

�You sure this waters safe?� Weir ask as they approached the river.

�It had better be.� Sheppard looked round, �I don't see any other signs of a reliable source around here.�

�Then we'll have to come back in a few days and do some washing.� Weir looked round until she found a small pool of relativity still water, �I don't know about you, but I only brought a few changes of cloths with me, and they're all getting a little dirty.�

�Agreed.� Sheppard searched round until he found the abandoned canteens and hoisted them onto his back, �Let's go: I don't want to be caught out in the open if another one of those bear-things shows up.�

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They arrived back at the Jumper a little after midday, and Sheppard knew instantly that something was wrong, although it took him a long time work out what it was; none of their equipment was missing or out of place, but something was definitely out of place.

�John!� Weir pointed to the tree line; the carcase of the bear-like creature was missing, but three long spears and a machete like knife where thrust into the ground in its place.

�Into the Jumper, now!� Sheppard's tone of voice invited no argument, and Weir all but ran to the hopeful safety of the downed transport.

Sheppard inched towards the weapons, P90 at the ready, eyes darting around for the first sign of trouble. He reached them without incident, and looked round for any traps of signs that they were being watched, but couldn't see of hear anything. He slowly circled the weapons; they seemed basic, just wooden shafts with rough iron blades tied on with something that looked like animal hide. Tentatively taking hold of one of the spears, he pulled it out of the ground and took a closer look: the shaft felt like it was made out of something very similar to bamboo, but lighter and stronger. Lifting it with one arm, he noticed that it was perfectly balanced, unmistakably designed for the kill and not ornamentation.

The machete was also built to be used; the blade had been sharpened to a razor edge, the back edge much heavier than the front. He held it tentatively, getting a feel for the weapon, then hurled it towards the nearest tree. The blade struck the wood with a heavy thump, splitting the wood perfectly.

�John!� Weir appeared at the hatchway, Beretta held tightly in both hands, �What was that?�

�I don't think this planet is as uninhabited as we were lead to believe.� Sheppard retrieved the machete and gathered up the spears, �And that means we could have the Wraith on our heads at any moment.� He looked at the Jumper; it was half buried in the ground, its entire front third hidden under a fallen tree, �We need to shut down everything that uses power; the radio, our computers, everything. Then we need to try and disguise the Jumper, see if we can make it look like some kind of hut or cabin, at least from the air.�

�But if we shut down the radio, we'll never be able to contact the others.� Weir protested, �How will they ever be able to find us?�

�It's been a week; if Atlantis was going to mount some kind of search and rescue mission on their own, we probably would have heard from them by now. Now I know for a fact that McKay looked over every bit of information the database had on this system, hoping to find another ZPM, so they'll know to look for us here. But if they know the Wraith are here to stay, then they'll probably wait for the Daedalus to get back before attempting anything, but we both know that they will come looking for us, one way or another. We just need to make sure we're still alive when they get here.�

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It took almost a week, but in the end, they managed to cut enough branches to cover the Jumper, the small hand-saw in the survival kit allowing them to cut some of the smaller branches into logs that they piled up along the sides, hiding the ships circular hull. Sheppard was more than a little surprised when Weir weaved a sunshade out of strips of bark that could be attached above the hatch to make a basic porch.

�Something I learnt at Summer Camp one year.� She explained, �And it's something I can do with my arm still in this damn cast.�

�I'm impressed.� Sheppard nodded appreciatively, �Anything else you learnt at camp that might be useful?�

�Well, I was good at Archery, but that would be a little difficult now.� Weir shrugged, then rolled her eyes when she saw the blank expression on her companions face, �I never learnt to compensate.�

�What?� Sheppard thought for a second, then realisation slowly dawned, �Oh, right, gotcha.�

�But, I was on my High School Varsity Track & Field team.� Weir lifted one of the spears, got a feel for its weight and balance, then expertly hurled it at a target Sheppard had been trying to hit all day, striking dead-centre, �State Javelin champion, two years running.�

�Why did you stop?�

�I decided I wanted to go into politics, so studying for that took up more and more of my time, much to my Coach's dismay.�

�You know, even after almost three years, you still manage to surprise me on a semi-regular basis.�

To Be Continued...

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His Girl Friday