Author's Chapter Notes: This time I tried an AU that was inspired by my own deprived life and an unwanted wedding invitation I received. Consequently the story is an attempt to release my own depression without maddening the people that have to live with me. Nevertheless I promise a happy ending, so to all Sheppard-Weir-shippers out there: HELL YEAH!
Something else I have to add is that this thing has not been betaed, but I reeeaaallllly would like my stories to be betaed. I’d love to beta as well, so if anybody’s interested in further unpaid work and/or a beta-reader, please tell me!
Something else I have to add is that this thing has not been betaed, but I reeeaaallllly would like my stories to be betaed. I’d love to beta as well, so if anybody’s interested in further unpaid work and/or a beta-reader, please tell me!
WEDDINGS AND OTHER CATASTROPHES
Disclaimer: I’m a poor creature. I own less than nothing.
Rating: R, not sure though
1. On the First Sight aka Destiny?
“Ring, ring, ring” I hate that noise. Who on earth cursed me with that damned phone? Lt. Col. John Sheppard resignedly thought, rolling his eyes. Cell phones had the unpleasant tendency to come to life at the least convenient time. Like now. John had just returned from his last mission and was now standing in front of the big lifts in the ground floor of the huge UN-building. The doors of one of the lifts had opened a second before his phone had decided to get annoying.
Could be something important though. Finally surrendering John answered. “Sheppard”
“You BASTARD!” Should’ve probably checked the display for who was calling. John dryly thought. I trusted it would take her longer to track me down. John pondered almost admiringly as the very familiar female voice continued loudly. ”I can’t believe it! How could you? How the hell dare you do that to me! … “ Note for later: always know who’s calling you before carelessly answering. “…You f… son of a ...”
The mad tirade of nasty accusation carried on while John observed other people joining him in the lift, the doors closed again and the lift started moving upwards. Having reached the third floor the lift opened again and in a flash the audio harassment sunk into oblivion for John.
The opening doors revealed one of the most beautiful women John Sheppard had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Good God! Long legs, gorgeous curves and stunning green eyes. Stunning green eyes that were directed at him with a look of irritation, offence and something utterly different John couldn’t quite identify. Damn, caught gaping like an idiot. Great start with a woman. John inwardly congratulated himself to his clever ways with women concurrently to the female in question’s rather unimpressed entering of the lift.
All at once John’s attention was turned back when the screaming voice coming out of the phone reached new volume levels. “Damned! Would you please listen to me?! BASTARD!”
“Umm, ah … “. Thanks to the sight of the beautiful brunette John wasn’t able to focus sufficiently to come up with something halfway sensible enough to safe his sorry ass from the chastisement.
“Sometimes you’re a pain in the ass.” The voice stated in now a dangerously quiet matter-of-fact way.
“I love you, too.” This time surrendering to his lack of concentration John answered in a sweet sing-sang-voice.
“Go to hell.” Was the last sentence followed by shrill peeping.
“Bye, bye baby.” Can’t wait to get home.
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Elizabeth Weir could remember that there had been easy times in her life. Days and weeks filled with love, laughter and happiness. The last month, however, had shown another side of life. Now Elizabeth’s only hope lay in the prospect of these terrible four weeks to end after one last UN-conference about security-arrangements on negotiation-missions in unsafe territories.
In less than twenty-four hours I’ll be finally home and away from all of this. Was the positive thinking Elizabeth watched the doors of the lift opening with. She was stopped, however, from stepping directly into the lift by a man, a quite handsome man actually. Military, Air Force apparently. And trying to live up to each and every cliché associated to that. The man was very visibly checking her out like it was the most normal thing on earth. Granted, he was hot and at any other time Elizabeth might have even smiled at his expression, but at the moment she didn’t have the nerve for something like that.
Deciding for a tactic of ignorance Elizabeth entered the lift. And then he started talking.
I love you, too? Had Elizabeth got that right? Bye, bye baby? Elizabeth had gotten it right. That guy was downright undressing her mentally while not only speaking on the phone to his girlfriend, wife or whoever but also telling this girl loving fluff?
Men! Damned! It’s always comforting to know other people’s lives are happy when your own life has become hell from one second to another. Loving couples suck when you yourself have just broken up. Screw that. Loving couples suck. Full stop.
Elizabeth was relieved she had to leave the lift already in the sixth floor again. Mr. Air Force had hung up and the atmosphere had become excruciatingly uneasy. Leaving the lift, though, and intensely feeling his gaze following her Elizabeth couldn’t help but turn around quickly to meet his eyes for one last second.
Hazel eyes/I’m probably never gonna see him again/ Dazzling hazel eyes that belong to a taken man/Good thing I’m leaving now/Damn, he’s hot.
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“So you’re here for Col. Sumner?”
“Excuse me?” Distracted, that was the one and only correct word to describe John Sheppard’s state of mind after the gorgeous brunette had left the lift with this one last glance. Distraction had made him miss the right floor, the right door and now the address of nobody less than an Air Force General. Eight weeks Afghanistan were a walk in the park compared to this.
“I was asking if you happen to be the replacement for Col. Sumner who is not here, obviously.” The slow-motion-repetition of Gen. O’Neill’s question was accompanied by a raised eyebrow undoubtedly inquiring: How the hell did you ever make it Lt. Col.?!
“Umm, yes, sir. The Colonel was very sorry he couldn’t attend this conference himself, but he sends his best wishes.” John answered, badly hoping he was not communicating the irony Col. Sumner had sent him away with. If the look on Jack O’Neill’s face, however, hadn’t told him already how awfully he’d screwed up, the General’s mumblings about “His best wishes? My ass … “ would have eventually.
Despite his not so quiet complaints Jack sat down next to John which gave the latter finally the possibility to take a look around in the big conference room. John didn’t even know half of the people that were gathered around the oval table. Wonder why the good Col. Sumner suddenly had something better to do than this. John reflected sarcastically.
While John’s mind was already wandering back to the absent unknown beauty one of the present unknown people stood up and started to speak. “Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen. I would like to welcome you all … “. Small guy, bald head? This may take a while. Sigh. What John feared to become one of those never-ending sermons in which the orators always told more about themselves than about the actual object of the speech was – fortunately – interrupted by one of the side doors that was noisily opened all of a sudden.
Together with everyone else in the room John whirled his head around and was fairly dazed to face THE woman. That’s not possible. Her of all people!!! In flight school, after John had crashed his first helicopter without further damage on him or the vehicle his teacher had called him a lucky son of a bitch. But this, John realized smugly, went far beyond luck, this had to be destiny.
Whereas a tremendously thrilled John Sheppard had to stop himself from jumping out of his chair for joy the ecstasy of the small guy who’d gotten interrupted was kept within limits.
“Dr. Weir … ”
Dr. Weir? Intelligent, beautiful … perfect. John painfully bit his lip before his whole face had the chance to become a smile of the size of Antarctica. Focus, Sheppard!
Unaware of John’s internal struggle the bald head continued, becoming more sarcastic and mean with each pointed glance and word: “ … how nice of you to join us! We’d almost feared you’d left us overnight, too.”
What is the guy talking about? John frowned, suspecting that bald head was hinting at something particularly, although Dr. Weir remained explicitly indifferent. Never breaking the eye contact to bald head the doctor plastered on the most polite smile and walked to the last empty seat on the opposite of John. “Mr. Woolsey, how could I miss my last opportunity of the pleasure of a conference with you?”
“Do you think …” The guy, Woolsey, attempted to shoot back, but was – again – effectively cut off. This time from the voice next to John, Gen. O’Neill.
“Why don’t we all cool … and sit down and do what we’re here for? I’m not getting any younger here, you know.” Conspicuously O’Neill arranged the files in front of him.
Although it was rather evident that Woolsey wasn’t exactly happy, he apparently decided to go for professionalism and focused back on his blabber.
The wonderful Dr. Weir, on the other hand, threw O’Neill a grateful glance after sitting down. In the process she accidentally met the hazel eyes of the man next to the General. Mr. Air Force? This is a small, sick and sad world.
Sticking to her tactic of ignorance the eye contact once more remained brief, but intense. Nevertheless Elizabeth determinedly concentrated on Woolsey’s boring speech and put on her well-trained poker face to hide her initial surprise.
Three hours later, Elizabeth was grateful to have managed to get through the conference without further shared glances, because somehow she wasn’t able to shake the slight feeling that the mask of coolness that had served her so well over the years could be seen right through by these striking hazel eyes. Even if there was no palpable indication – he had, just like Elizabeth, constructively participated in the meeting - that the man on the opposite of her had noticed anything, something in Elizabeth feared he could have sensed her true – and for a good reason hidden – feelings.
Now, since the meeting was nearing its finale, Woolsey started his second sermon, this time about thank you, good bye and farewell. After he had finally found an - ultimate - ending everybody gathered their files and belongings. And yet again John Sheppard was startled after having been … distracted. John had spent the better part of Woolsey’s last speech planning a course of action of how to convince Dr. Weir that he was the dream of her sleepless nights. Somewhere between those life-altering exchanged looks he had been able recognized what this unknown thing was he’d seen in her eyes the first time they’d met: A deep buried sadness, maybe tiredness and the worry that someone might notice those concealed emotions. Not for one second within the three hours of the meeting the stunning green eyes had looked the way they’d done back in the lift. It didn’t take a lot for John to realize that at the moment Dr. Weir was wearing a mask. And John could tell that she was used to the success of this mask, not only because it was clear to him that she was avoiding his eyes. She was acting … normal, for the lack of a better word, talking and laughing just like everyone else. Her mask must be the only way for her to feel safe. Déjà vu, John thought sadly. With each passing hour John wanted to know more about what had happened to make such a wonderful creature seem so incredible sad. He wanted to be there for her, gather her in his arms and tell her that now, with him, everything would be alright.
Getting a little ahead of yourself, white knight, aren’t you? John sighed, trying to make up a way between noble contenance and an instant proposal. Showtime. Now or never, John thought as he was leaving his seat in order to approach her. But before John knew what was happening the General next to him had risen as well, muttered darkly something about “Goodbye and my best wishes to Sumner” and rounded the table so that he was now standing in front of John’s dream girl, talking to her silently. John didn’t know what they were saying, he couldn’t hear a word, he merely could be certain that this had been his chance. Past tense.
As O’Neill quickly led Dr. Weir out of the room with his hand on the small of her back, John realized disappointedly, there was little else for him to do except for following her with his eyes.
So much for destiny. Life’s a bitch.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
So, what do you think? Want me to continue?
Disclaimer: I’m a poor creature. I own less than nothing.
Rating: R, not sure though
1. On the First Sight aka Destiny?
“Ring, ring, ring” I hate that noise. Who on earth cursed me with that damned phone? Lt. Col. John Sheppard resignedly thought, rolling his eyes. Cell phones had the unpleasant tendency to come to life at the least convenient time. Like now. John had just returned from his last mission and was now standing in front of the big lifts in the ground floor of the huge UN-building. The doors of one of the lifts had opened a second before his phone had decided to get annoying.
Could be something important though. Finally surrendering John answered. “Sheppard”
“You BASTARD!” Should’ve probably checked the display for who was calling. John dryly thought. I trusted it would take her longer to track me down. John pondered almost admiringly as the very familiar female voice continued loudly. ”I can’t believe it! How could you? How the hell dare you do that to me! … “ Note for later: always know who’s calling you before carelessly answering. “…You f… son of a ...”
The mad tirade of nasty accusation carried on while John observed other people joining him in the lift, the doors closed again and the lift started moving upwards. Having reached the third floor the lift opened again and in a flash the audio harassment sunk into oblivion for John.
The opening doors revealed one of the most beautiful women John Sheppard had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Good God! Long legs, gorgeous curves and stunning green eyes. Stunning green eyes that were directed at him with a look of irritation, offence and something utterly different John couldn’t quite identify. Damn, caught gaping like an idiot. Great start with a woman. John inwardly congratulated himself to his clever ways with women concurrently to the female in question’s rather unimpressed entering of the lift.
All at once John’s attention was turned back when the screaming voice coming out of the phone reached new volume levels. “Damned! Would you please listen to me?! BASTARD!”
“Umm, ah … “. Thanks to the sight of the beautiful brunette John wasn’t able to focus sufficiently to come up with something halfway sensible enough to safe his sorry ass from the chastisement.
“Sometimes you’re a pain in the ass.” The voice stated in now a dangerously quiet matter-of-fact way.
“I love you, too.” This time surrendering to his lack of concentration John answered in a sweet sing-sang-voice.
“Go to hell.” Was the last sentence followed by shrill peeping.
“Bye, bye baby.” Can’t wait to get home.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Elizabeth Weir could remember that there had been easy times in her life. Days and weeks filled with love, laughter and happiness. The last month, however, had shown another side of life. Now Elizabeth’s only hope lay in the prospect of these terrible four weeks to end after one last UN-conference about security-arrangements on negotiation-missions in unsafe territories.
In less than twenty-four hours I’ll be finally home and away from all of this. Was the positive thinking Elizabeth watched the doors of the lift opening with. She was stopped, however, from stepping directly into the lift by a man, a quite handsome man actually. Military, Air Force apparently. And trying to live up to each and every cliché associated to that. The man was very visibly checking her out like it was the most normal thing on earth. Granted, he was hot and at any other time Elizabeth might have even smiled at his expression, but at the moment she didn’t have the nerve for something like that.
Deciding for a tactic of ignorance Elizabeth entered the lift. And then he started talking.
I love you, too? Had Elizabeth got that right? Bye, bye baby? Elizabeth had gotten it right. That guy was downright undressing her mentally while not only speaking on the phone to his girlfriend, wife or whoever but also telling this girl loving fluff?
Men! Damned! It’s always comforting to know other people’s lives are happy when your own life has become hell from one second to another. Loving couples suck when you yourself have just broken up. Screw that. Loving couples suck. Full stop.
Elizabeth was relieved she had to leave the lift already in the sixth floor again. Mr. Air Force had hung up and the atmosphere had become excruciatingly uneasy. Leaving the lift, though, and intensely feeling his gaze following her Elizabeth couldn’t help but turn around quickly to meet his eyes for one last second.
Hazel eyes/I’m probably never gonna see him again/ Dazzling hazel eyes that belong to a taken man/Good thing I’m leaving now/Damn, he’s hot.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“So you’re here for Col. Sumner?”
“Excuse me?” Distracted, that was the one and only correct word to describe John Sheppard’s state of mind after the gorgeous brunette had left the lift with this one last glance. Distraction had made him miss the right floor, the right door and now the address of nobody less than an Air Force General. Eight weeks Afghanistan were a walk in the park compared to this.
“I was asking if you happen to be the replacement for Col. Sumner who is not here, obviously.” The slow-motion-repetition of Gen. O’Neill’s question was accompanied by a raised eyebrow undoubtedly inquiring: How the hell did you ever make it Lt. Col.?!
“Umm, yes, sir. The Colonel was very sorry he couldn’t attend this conference himself, but he sends his best wishes.” John answered, badly hoping he was not communicating the irony Col. Sumner had sent him away with. If the look on Jack O’Neill’s face, however, hadn’t told him already how awfully he’d screwed up, the General’s mumblings about “His best wishes? My ass … “ would have eventually.
Despite his not so quiet complaints Jack sat down next to John which gave the latter finally the possibility to take a look around in the big conference room. John didn’t even know half of the people that were gathered around the oval table. Wonder why the good Col. Sumner suddenly had something better to do than this. John reflected sarcastically.
While John’s mind was already wandering back to the absent unknown beauty one of the present unknown people stood up and started to speak. “Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen. I would like to welcome you all … “. Small guy, bald head? This may take a while. Sigh. What John feared to become one of those never-ending sermons in which the orators always told more about themselves than about the actual object of the speech was – fortunately – interrupted by one of the side doors that was noisily opened all of a sudden.
Together with everyone else in the room John whirled his head around and was fairly dazed to face THE woman. That’s not possible. Her of all people!!! In flight school, after John had crashed his first helicopter without further damage on him or the vehicle his teacher had called him a lucky son of a bitch. But this, John realized smugly, went far beyond luck, this had to be destiny.
Whereas a tremendously thrilled John Sheppard had to stop himself from jumping out of his chair for joy the ecstasy of the small guy who’d gotten interrupted was kept within limits.
“Dr. Weir … ”
Dr. Weir? Intelligent, beautiful … perfect. John painfully bit his lip before his whole face had the chance to become a smile of the size of Antarctica. Focus, Sheppard!
Unaware of John’s internal struggle the bald head continued, becoming more sarcastic and mean with each pointed glance and word: “ … how nice of you to join us! We’d almost feared you’d left us overnight, too.”
What is the guy talking about? John frowned, suspecting that bald head was hinting at something particularly, although Dr. Weir remained explicitly indifferent. Never breaking the eye contact to bald head the doctor plastered on the most polite smile and walked to the last empty seat on the opposite of John. “Mr. Woolsey, how could I miss my last opportunity of the pleasure of a conference with you?”
“Do you think …” The guy, Woolsey, attempted to shoot back, but was – again – effectively cut off. This time from the voice next to John, Gen. O’Neill.
“Why don’t we all cool … and sit down and do what we’re here for? I’m not getting any younger here, you know.” Conspicuously O’Neill arranged the files in front of him.
Although it was rather evident that Woolsey wasn’t exactly happy, he apparently decided to go for professionalism and focused back on his blabber.
The wonderful Dr. Weir, on the other hand, threw O’Neill a grateful glance after sitting down. In the process she accidentally met the hazel eyes of the man next to the General. Mr. Air Force? This is a small, sick and sad world.
Sticking to her tactic of ignorance the eye contact once more remained brief, but intense. Nevertheless Elizabeth determinedly concentrated on Woolsey’s boring speech and put on her well-trained poker face to hide her initial surprise.
Three hours later, Elizabeth was grateful to have managed to get through the conference without further shared glances, because somehow she wasn’t able to shake the slight feeling that the mask of coolness that had served her so well over the years could be seen right through by these striking hazel eyes. Even if there was no palpable indication – he had, just like Elizabeth, constructively participated in the meeting - that the man on the opposite of her had noticed anything, something in Elizabeth feared he could have sensed her true – and for a good reason hidden – feelings.
Now, since the meeting was nearing its finale, Woolsey started his second sermon, this time about thank you, good bye and farewell. After he had finally found an - ultimate - ending everybody gathered their files and belongings. And yet again John Sheppard was startled after having been … distracted. John had spent the better part of Woolsey’s last speech planning a course of action of how to convince Dr. Weir that he was the dream of her sleepless nights. Somewhere between those life-altering exchanged looks he had been able recognized what this unknown thing was he’d seen in her eyes the first time they’d met: A deep buried sadness, maybe tiredness and the worry that someone might notice those concealed emotions. Not for one second within the three hours of the meeting the stunning green eyes had looked the way they’d done back in the lift. It didn’t take a lot for John to realize that at the moment Dr. Weir was wearing a mask. And John could tell that she was used to the success of this mask, not only because it was clear to him that she was avoiding his eyes. She was acting … normal, for the lack of a better word, talking and laughing just like everyone else. Her mask must be the only way for her to feel safe. Déjà vu, John thought sadly. With each passing hour John wanted to know more about what had happened to make such a wonderful creature seem so incredible sad. He wanted to be there for her, gather her in his arms and tell her that now, with him, everything would be alright.
Getting a little ahead of yourself, white knight, aren’t you? John sighed, trying to make up a way between noble contenance and an instant proposal. Showtime. Now or never, John thought as he was leaving his seat in order to approach her. But before John knew what was happening the General next to him had risen as well, muttered darkly something about “Goodbye and my best wishes to Sumner” and rounded the table so that he was now standing in front of John’s dream girl, talking to her silently. John didn’t know what they were saying, he couldn’t hear a word, he merely could be certain that this had been his chance. Past tense.
As O’Neill quickly led Dr. Weir out of the room with his hand on the small of her back, John realized disappointedly, there was little else for him to do except for following her with his eyes.
So much for destiny. Life’s a bitch.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
So, what do you think? Want me to continue?