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sga ♥ john & elizabeth
"dwell in possibility." - Emily Dickinson


Elizabeth Weir thinks a lot about possibilities. Namely, the ones that immediately affect their lives. There's a list of them somewhere, most likely a product of a sleepless night and a need to analyze the situation down to minute details. The list refers to constant threats like the Wraith and Replicators and occasional ones like the Genii.
The troubles they get themselves into on their own take up an entirely different column filled with alien devices, contagions, and civil wars.

Probabilities are in yet another category- one that she'd rather leave up to John and try not to think about. On a good day she'd give them a 50/50 chance of surviving the end of the year, sometimes the end of the day. It's not much- it never is- but it's something.

There are other possibilities that are far less depressing, like the pranks Ronon and John play on Rodney and that Teyla pretends to scold them for. It's likely that they'll come up with another one and she can admit to herself that if nothing else, they're always original and mostly harmless. Except for the fact that Rodney had ranted for half an hour the last time he'd found his lab full of assorted citrus fruits. Loudly.

There's the scenarios where everyone lives, at least for another day, and those are the ones she tries to focus on. Small victories add up, but sometimes it's hard to remember that, and she's lost in thought, looking for options and hoping they've missed something that will turn the odds in their favor. Her normal optimism seems to have deserted her for once, leaving a somewhat bleak opinion as to their chances.

"Do you ever stop to think that maybe we'll make it?"
She looks up as John makes his way into her office in his usual manner (quickly and noisily) and perches on a corner of her desk.

Elizabeth shoots him a curious glance, so he continues, "Don't you think that there's a possibility that we'll be alright?"

"You're awfully optimistic today," she replies, feeling a right to be worried. There is an army bearing down on them, and few options to speak of. Normally their roles in this conversation are reversed, they both know their parts; she has hope (faith) and he has realism (cold, hard facts and the knowledge that war is indeed, hell). Today, she's just tired.

"Rodney and Zelenka'll come up with something. If they don't, there's plan B."

"Which we don't have yet," she points out quietly.

"But we will. We don't give up, Elizabeth. Not ever. And if that's not enough then at least we'll go down fighting." The conviction in his voice is enough to make her look away, wishing she shared his optimism this time.

She knows it's true, she's committed to that, but- "We're running out of options, John."

"Look, if we give up now, they win by default. There's always a chance if we try," he adds, leaning a little closer to her side of the desk, intent on making her see his point.
"Have a little faith, Elizabeth." He smirks, the irony of him saying this to her apparently isn't lost on him.

She can't help but allow a small smile then. That tends to happen where he's concerned, she knows. He probably does too.

It takes a few moments to ease herself out of the feeling that this time might be the last time. They've all put too much into this city to surrender without exhausting every last option they have.

"We're going to need a new plan," she says at last, finally feeling like something of his bright outlook is sinking in and taking root. It's as much of a concession as she can afford to make, and maybe, just maybe they can do this.

He jumps from her desk then, all smiles and motion as he darts around to her side just long enough to pull her gently to her feet.
"We'll get one, I promise." He frowns, again tugging at her hand when she refuses to move. "Now would you please come on?"

"Where are we going?" she asks suspiciously.

"Mess hall," he answers, as if it's obvious and she should know by now, and leads her through the control room.

"And why are we doing that?"

"Now the first rule of brainstorming," he states, "is that you can't do it alone. Second is that you can't do it on an empty stomach."

Elizabeth can hear the smile in his voice but she looks at him anyway. He's rather obviously making this all up, but he's doing it for her benefit and waiting expectantly. Admittedly, she doesn't feel quite as bleak about their chances, and that it has a lot to do with him.
"Let's go then."

She smiles. According to someone very special to her, there's a good possibility that they'll make it after all.
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