Good Morning Part Two

[mcbeckla]

Chapter 4 In His Dreams…
John Sheppard woke up in a tangle of sheets, sweat and arousal. He lay staring into the dark room, breathing heavily as his thoughts struggled to catch up with the fact that he was lying in his bed. The pillow under his head was soft and cool on his cheek, and his sheets were wrapped around his legs . He stretched out and freed his body from the sheets, and then let his body sag deeper into the mattress.

He’d been dreaming, an extremely vivid dream as his body could testify. He felt a strange bittersweet ache as he realised he was awake. And alone.

He’d been having an extremely stimulating dream about Elizabeth Weir of all people.

Not that John didn’t have erotic dreams, just that Weir wasn’t usually in them. He also couldn’t recall ever having a dream that had felt as real. Most of his dreams were hazy concoctions involving the smooth, soft skin, good legs and other areas of some perfect female who would look at him with large, pleading, doe eyes and generally not say very much. They did not involve clever, petit, dark haired, women who could sometimes look straight into him with clever green eyes. Did he say clever? Yes his dreams did not usually require intelligence.

Dreams also didn’t involve his boss. As a rule, he tried to avoid having erotic dreams about his commanding officers, it helped that most of them had been burly, hairy Air Force types and that biceps just didn’t do it for him.

It didn’t take a lot of effort for his thoughts to slide back into the dream. He could almost still taste Weir and feel how she had pressed her body against his...

He jumped out of bed. Don’t go there, John-boy, he thought. He’d have to give his sub-conscious a good talking-to. A damn good talking-to. Having steamy, erotic dreams about Elizabeth Weir were not to be encouraged. He would not think about Elizabeth Weir in that way. Never. Ever.

The city systems had sensed that he was awake and had softly lit the room. He stepped into the shower, and turned the setting to cold, gasping as the needles of icy water struck his skin. Luckily showers hadn’t figured in his dream, although it would have been extremely entertaining to pin Weir against the wall of the shower and....

He leant his forehead against the shower stall and groaned. This. Was. Not. Good. Think of something else. Anything. McKay’s last briefing about some vacuum-energy thing to do with ZPMs. Weir had sat opposite Sheppard, her eyes wide and unfocused. He’d wondered at the time what was occupying her thoughts. He was almost one hundred percent certain she hadn’t been listening, but somehow she had managed to ask the right questions when McKay had finally stopped. She had caught his eyes looking at her, and a small smile had flirted with her lips before she had refocused her gaze. Oh god, he remembered - her lips, softly parted and the way her tongue had…

Perhaps a session with Teyla in the gym would help work off some of this frustration. He made a mental note to book one with her when they met at the briefing later.

Stepping out the shower, he reached for a towel and dried himself off. The sensation of the towel on his skin reminded him of Weir’s small, pale hands moving slowly across his body. He couldn’t touch his skin it seemed, without feeling the memory of her. He looked at his hands, she had felt so incredibly real, her skin soft and toned, her ass…

Crap! The Wraith, think of the Wraith, and their pale, clammy skin and their bad breath.

He stood in front of the mirror, examining his face. At least his head didn’t feel like it was going to explode or his eyes feel like they were dangling in front of his face on 10 inch stalks. He’d never had a hangover like the one he’d had yesterday. He’d never touch Athosian gin again. His hair, as usual was sticking out and his face was a field of bristle. He supposed he should shave. He stroked the skin just below his right ear.

Damn! The dream was back, he could feel whisper of Weir’s breath as she softly moaned in his ear…

Throwing on his clothes he left the room and headed down the corridor toward the transporter. He needed to go and do something. His puddlejumper, he was sure, needed some maintenance. And if it didn’t, he’d give it some maintenance anyway. It was still early for Atlantis, there were not many people about and the corridor was deserted. The soft, white light of early morning shone through the stained glass windows, scattering colors on the marbled floor. The transporter doors opened as he approached them and he stepped in, his eyes searching for and finding the hangars on the interactive map of the city.

“Hold on!” a voice called.

Oh crap. He leant against the transporter walls and closed his eyes. For a crazy second he was tempted to send the transporter on its way. He opened his eyes.

Weir burst into the transporter, ever so slightly out of breath, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted as she panted slightly. Damn, she looked good. Damn he couldn’t think like that. Damn. He felt his body tighten at the sight of her. Damn.

Suddenly, there was not enough oxygen in the transporter.

When she saw it was him, she stopped dead, her green eyes wide and huge. She looked shocked and pale - not the reaction he usually got from her. Usually, she smiled at him and, well, they had this thing with their personal space he and Weir. Today, she was as far away from him as she could get without actually leaping out of the transporter.

No wonder, he thought, it wasn’t every day she came across her ranking military officer staring at her like he’d never seen a woman before in his life and panting in the transporter.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. But he was panting, he was sure of it.

“Doctor?” he tried to find some composure and settled for the tried and trusted method of being irrelevant and annoying, quirking an eyebrow at her and tipping his head slightly away from her. He tried a smirk, but that seemed to be beyond him.

“Major?” She was suddenly brisk and formal. “You were going somewhere?”

“Hmmm…” he said. “Er yes, the hangars. The puddlejumpers need some maintenance”

She frowned. “I thought they had a thorough inspection yesterday?” Her hand shot out, finding the control panel. She was heading for the command centre, he noted. He felt the slight jerk at the transporter kicked in.

“Er yes” He’d forgotten that. “But… erm… the air intake valve for the atmospheric engines on puddlejumper one was a little… erm… choked”

She looked at him suspiciously before turning her attention to a close scrutiny of the wall. He felt like he was 13 and had been caught, doing what 13 years old do...What a sleazebag he was, having thoughts like that about his boss. What kind of man did that make him? She was more than his boss, she was his friend. She was more than just a body, she had a fine mind and all he could think about this morning was pressing her against the side of the transporter.

Scum, he was scum.

Guilt plaguing him, he suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. He started to hum the song that had been playing in his head all morning.

Weir’s head snapped round, “Major?” she squeaked.

“Doctor?” he said hoarsely. What the hell was up with her? She was as jumpy as a roomful of kittens.

“That tune…” she started.

“Fly me to the moon?”

“Yes”

“It was stuck, you know” he made a circular motion with his hand, “in my head”

“Oh” she turned back around.

Her next words took him by surprise. “Major, have you brushed your hair this morning?”

His eyebrows shoot through his forehead and hit the roof. His hair? She was talking about his hair? What was wrong with his hair? He was proud of his hair, he had a lot of it.

“Yes” he said, cautiously, looking at her closely. “Why?”

“It’s a mess,” she said primly, pursing her lips. “And while you’re at it, you could do with a good shave.”

The doors opened showing the quiet of the early shift command centre in front of them, and Sheppard was left his jaw hanging down somewhere near the floor as she walked out.
Chapter 5 Skinny Dipping with Carson and Teyla
Elizabeth had calmed herself somewhat by the time she reached her desk. Catching Major Sheppard in the transporter, only moments after waking up from that dream had nearly derailed her sensibilities. He’d seem to dominate the whole transporter, he and that hair of his.

She groaned, as she remembered the vivid feeling of his hair running past her fingers, as she had pressed herself against his body… what had she been thinking of?

Dreaming, about Major Sheppard. Major Sheppard of the smirk, of the bed head and the ability to flirt with everything that breathed. Correction, she thought, he could flirt with things that were completely and utterly dead.

But Sheppard was more than a messy-haired, smirking flyboy though.

At least the rash on her face had cleared up. It was the strangest thing, she hadn’t had a rash like that since high school, when she and Kevin Jenkins had spent a good hour tussling on her parent’s sofa, and it hadn’t been arm wrestling they had occupied their attention.

Kevin Jenkins. What a great kisser he had been. Elizabeth smiled to herself. John Sheppard, what a great kisser he was…in the dream. Despite herself she let her mind wander… It was a pity that she was his boss and his friend…. that thought brought her up with a start. What were her and Sheppard to each other? Were they friends? She held her coffee mug and looked out over the steam into her room. She would have answered yes to that question before this morning, but the dream had upset her emotional applecart. Intergalactic bed head indeed! She snorted and half giggled at the mental imagery.

Who wouldn’t be attracted to Sheppard? She put her coffee mug down and leant her forearms onto the desk, gazing out through the window onto the balcony and sea beyond. She’d noticed, more than she meant to notice, a good number of the women responding to his undoubted good looks and charm. She’d thought herself above all of that and that she’d been immune to all of that. That somehow the two of them had forged a relationship that went beyond the shallowness of sexual attraction and was based on mutual respect and admiration. They may not always agree on the best action to take, she and Sheppard but she knew he was a good man and like her, always strived to do what was right.

She sighed. This morning had not been cool. She was a grown woman, used to experiencing dreams of that nature, just not necessarily about her ranking military officer. Although, if she were honest, it probably wasn’t the first smutty dream involving Sheppard she’d had, especially in the early days when they’d been getting to know each other. However, she was used to the vagaries of her sub-conscious, she knew that feelings of that nature needed an outlet and she’d always managed to live with them, like she managed to live with other basic needs, like eating and breathing. Instead she had reacted like a sexually repressed schoolgirl this morning that had been locked up with a sex beast. She cringed.

Bugger, she would have to apologise to him. Time to work. She picked up her mug and drank some of the now lukewarm coffee, grimacing at the taste. She flipped the cover of the lap-top open and started to work. With some effort, she opened the latest report about mainland grain production, she rubbed her eyes blearily and tried to focus on the figures on the screen.

Two hours later, the sound of voices in the briefing room next door roused her from last week’s recycling plant maintenance figures. She checked her watch, the daily briefing wasn’t due to start for another five minutes. She could hear McKay as he walked into the room

“And then I was skinny dipping. Right off the West Pier. Carson, me and Teyla. Although to be accurate, we weren’t completely naked as such. But we did take most of our clothes off…”

“That’s nothing” said a voice, Ford. “I was skateboarding in the corridors. It was the weirdest dream. It just felt so …”

Elizabeth stopped reading the recyling plant figures.

“Vivid?” Rodney replied, “I’ll bet, it went on for hours! Teyla ended up getting tangled up in some sort of Atlantis seaweed, and we had to spend a bit of time helping her disentangle herself. That was fun.” Elizabeth could almost see the smile on Rodney’s face.

“In your dreams Rodney”, Elizabeth thought. “Where did your subconscious dig that up from?”

“You don’t get out much do you?” said Ford, sounding a little jealous. Elizabeth smiled to herself and got up to walk into the briefing room.

“Who doesn’t get out much?” Sheppard had entered the room, carrying a mug of coffee.

“McKay” said Ford. “We were just talking about the weird dreams we had last night”

Weir walked into the briefing room, just in time to catch Major Sheppard turning white.

“Dreams?” he said hoarsely. Then he caught sight of Elizabeth across the table and jumped like a scalded cat. She could almost hear the yowls of the said cat echo around the briefing room.

Elizabeth hoped, fervently, that no-one would ask her about her dreams. She could imagine the conversation…

“Well yes, I dreamt that Major Sheppard sang “Fly me to the Moon” and then pressed me against a wall…” having said that Sheppard had the most exquisite expression of guilt and horror on his face and she suddenly found herself immensely curious to find out what he did dream about.

“I.. er…don’t dream” he said at last, flopping into a seat.

Elizabeth was curiously disappointed, it seemed the Major didn’t have a vivid an imagination as the rest of his team. Or her for that matter. That train of thought wasn’t to be encouraged, however, so she was grateful when Carson Beckett spoke over the radio.

“Go ahead Carson” she spoke into her radio mic.

“Doctor Weir, can you come to the infirmary please?” Elizabeth could see the little frown of worry, furrowing Carson’s forehead through the tone of his voice.

“Is there something wrong Carson?” she said, frowning herself.

“I need to speak to you, I’ve had reports of strange dreams from all over the city”

“Really?” She looked at Sheppard and his two team members, who were suddenly extremely attentive.

“Is Rodney there?” Beckett asked,

“Yes, Carson,” Rodney replied.

“Tell me Rodney, did you dream you were skinny dipping off the West Pier, with..”

“Teyla?” Rodney’s voice raised an octave.

“I also had the same dream Dr McKay” Teyla’s calm voice enunciated across the airwaves.

Sheppard spat his coffee across the table.

The Infirmary

They were all in the infirmary. Sheppard was standing a little apart from the rest of the group, leaning against the wall, arms folded, face impassive, eyes guarded. He hadn’t said anything since she had taken off from her chair, but she had she had been acutely aware of him, could feel the energy burning off his body, all the way through the corridors of the city to where they were standing now.

Most of Atlantis, it seemed, had experienced very vivid dreams last night. Not only that, a big proportion of those who had dreamed had had the same dreams. Teyla, Carson and McKay had all been skinny dipping off the West Pier. Ford had been skateboarding in the corridors and Zelenka and Grodin had been playing strip poker in the mess hall with two female scientists. Grodin had lost apparently, and had been down to his socks. All four participants had corroborated that fact.

Which meant, that possibly….

She was not going to go there. The thought that Sheppard had had the same dream as her made her squirm, she rubbed the back of her neck to try and cool herself after yet another rush of heat.

Elizabeth thanked her lucky stars that nobody had asked her what she had dreamt about last night.

“What did you dream about last night Doctor Weir?” asked Carson.
Chapter 6 What Teyla wore
Elizabeth didn’t look too well, Rodney thought as he watched all the colour leave her face after Carson asked her what she had dreamt about. Elizabeth looked as horrified as if she’d been suddenly faced by a Wraith who hadn’t had a decent human life in a few millennia.

“Nothing” she blurted out, after a few second’s pause “absolutely nothing. I don’t dream.”

Rodney didn’t believe her for a minute. Whatever she had dreamt it had obviously been completely terrifying. She had also repeated exactly what Sheppard had said during the briefing. Come to think of it, Sheppard had also had that look of panic when asked that question earlier.

“Interesting” Rodney mused aloud. “Major Sheppard also claimed to not have dreamt last night”

Turning to him, Rodney saw that Sheppard had stopped sulking against the wall and was now paying Elizabeth a lot of attention. Looking at Elizabeth, Rodney could see that she was availing the floor of her full and undivided attention.

“Are you sure that you didn’t dream, or is that you won’t remember it?” Rodney found himself now intensely curious. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Rodney” Elizabeth lifted her head up from the floor, but was unable to stop Rodney’s flow,

“Did both of you not dream?” Rodney continued. “Or did you both have the same dream but you can’t remember?”

“McKay” Sheppard growled clenching his fists. Somewhere in the back of Rodney’s mind a warning light flashed, but Rodney had been good at ignoring that particular facet of his personality, especially when he thought he was onto something. Carson, however, had also noticed.

“Rodney” Carson warned. “I’d shut up if I were you…”

“What?” Rodney turned to him “Perhaps they had a nightmare? Did you have a nightmare?” he turned to Elizabeth. “ After all, the dreams that have been described by almost everyone in Atlantis have been good, except perhaps for Peter’s unfortunate losing streak.”

Elizabeth was glaring at him, so was Sheppard. Everyone else in the room was looking at either Elizabeth or Sheppard.

“No Rodney” Elizabeth spoke through clenched teeth. “I did not have a nightmare. I didn’t dream.”

“Neither did I” frothed Sheppard. “And I can’t see why you’re persisting with this line of thought McKay!”

“Major,” Rodney looked at Sheppard, and pitied, as he did daily, the man’s puny brain. How he had passed the Mensa test Rodney hadn’t been able to fathom, unless of course he was some kind of idiot savant. “This could be extremely important, if you and Dr Weir are the only two people who did not dream last night it could give us some insight as to what is causing this.”

“And why would that be?” Sheppard scowled.

“Well, firstly, the whole of Atlantis experienced some kind of memory loss and then everyone has been dreaming en masse, I would say that was pretty unusual even by standards in the Pegasus galaxy…”

There was a sudden silence.

“Could the two be related somehow?” Elizabeth said. “Carson, could the Athosian gin be causing some sort of mass hallucination effect?”

Beckett thought for a moment. “It’s possible. I haven’t started my analysis yet Dr Weir, I’m afraid, my time was spent yesterday attending to the sick and hungover.” He glared at Rodney.

“What?” Rodney exclaimed, defensively. “I thought that I had been poisoned! I’m sure my kidneys were permanently damaged by that concoction.”

“I didn’t notice you holding back on the drinking of that concoction.” Sheppard sneered.

Elizabeth, Rodney was pleased to note, shot the snarky Major a stern look. “None of us did Major” she said pointedly.

Sheppard blushed. He actually blushed. Rodney couldn’t believe it, he was about to point it out to all and sundry, his mouth was open, the message was passing from his brain to his vocal chords, when Elizabeth glared at him, her eyes flashing red. Or so he imagined. He shut his mouth.

“Carson,” Elizabeth moved toward the door, the conversation was obviously over as far as she was concerned “Can you and Rodney please analyse the Athosian gin and report back to me anything that might explain this situation.”

“Dr Weir” Teyla had been quiet for most of the time, just merely watching the exchanges amongst her colleagues, Rodney could never figure out whether she just found these types of conversations beneath her or whether they were just going over her head. Teyla could be an enigma sometimes. “I seem to remember my father describing a similar incident after a wedding celebration but I cannot recall all the details. May I travel to the mainland and make enquiries?”

Weir smiled at the shorter woman, “Of course Teyla, anything you can tell us would be very useful. Major Sheppard will take you over, won’t you Major?” Rodney noticed that Sheppard looked a bit put out at this. What was with him? Normally, prising Sheppard away from his beloved puddlejumpers was like getting Rodney away from a glowing ZPM.

“Yeah sure,” Sheppard rubbed the back of his neck, making his hair stick up more than usual. “Just give me a few minutes Teyla.”

“Thank you Major” the Athosian smiled at him, and nodded her head. “I will meet you in the bay in one hour.”

Sheppard nodded. Weir and Teyla left the room, Sheppard and Ford following soon after, leaving Carson and Rodney alone to start their analysis.

Which they were engrossed in doing and just about to run the gin through the liquid chromatograph when Teyla burst into the infirmary half-an-hour later.

Which was unusual, because Teyla didn’t usually burst in anywhere, she usually entered a room quietly, and with a fair amount of grace. However, this time she came running into the room.

“Dr McKay” she said breathily. “I must speak with you” she held up what appeared be a bra, with a long, green thing trailing from it.

“Teyla” Rodney said, his heart racing just a little more than was normal. “Is that your…”

“Brasserie?” squeaked Carson.

“Well recognized Doctor,” Rodney said sarcastically. “I remember it” said Rodney, “You were wearing that..”

“In the dream, yes” said Teyla. “I also remember what you were wearing Dr McKay” she said pointedly, giving him a look that made him shrivel, in more ways than one.

“Or not wearing, as the case may be” smirked Carson.

“You were hardly well dressed yourself”

“Doctors” Teyla looked irritated, “This is one of my undergarments, granted. But it is this I wish to draw to your attention” She held out the long green thing.

“What is it?” said Rodney

Carson took the end of the thing in his hand. “I don’t know Rodney,” he said, “but it looks a lot like …”

“Seaweed” exclaimed Rodney. “It looks like seaweed! But..” he looked at Carson and then Teyla. “How did seaweed get attached to your…”

“Undergarment” Carson interjected helpfully.

“But that was a dream” spluttered Rodney. “Wasn’t it?”

There was an appalled silence in the room.