Not mine. Don't own'em. Didn't create 'em. Stargate Atlantis and all related characters are the property of MGM.

Thanks to my long suffering beta reader: nebbyjen, also thanks to imskysmom & the rest of the SGAHC group for their comments, suggestions, and encouragement (and participating in the hurricane naming contest)

Tag for "The Storm" & "The Eye

AFTER THE STORM

Weir, McKay, Bates, and Sheppard were meeting in the conference room the second morning after the storm. Teyla had already given her report on the Athosian situation before leaving for the mainland to help as much as possible with the rebuilding process. Bates was just now finishing his report on the Manarian Genii spies.

"Thank you, Sergeant," said Weir at the conclusion of the report. "I know you have other responsibilities waiting for you."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Bates, eager to leave the meeting and continue with his debriefing of the Genii, Sora.

"Play nice, Bates," Sheppard reminded him. Generally speaking, he trusted his men, but Sora was at least partially responsible for the death of two of their fellow soldiers, even if she wasn't the one who pulled the trigger.

"Don't worry, sir." He paused in the doorway to the conference room. "Geneva Convention, hands off," he assured them.

Weir nodded her approval as Bates left the room.

"As soon as we're finished pumping out the east pier, we should send a team down to make a detailed survey of the structural damage," Rodney said, stretching his arm to indicate the area on the map and grimacing slightly as the stitches in his forearm pulled a bit.

Weir folded her jacket more snugly around her , curled her fingers around her mug and smothered a cough. The smell of pseudo-coffee was making her a little nauseous but she was grateful for the heat in her hands. She wondered if she would ever feel warm again after the drenching she and Rodney had received. There had been nominations for the name of Atlantis's first hurricane - well, the first one they had experienced. The drawing for the winning entry would be later that week. The pool had gotten quite large considering no one on Atlantis used currency. Most of the betting involved personal services or black market goods snuck through the gate during their trip from Earth. She made a mental note to have Bates go through the various offerings, just to be safe. She pulled her attention back to the meeting.

"I'll be pretty busy shuttling emergency supplies and Athosians back and forth to the mainland for a week or more, so I recommend you take Ford as well as four or five enlisted men for backup," Sheppard suggested, looking over McKay's list. "In addition to the people you've already picked."

"It's not as if you're going to find anything to shoot down there," complained the scientist sarcastically. He hated being saddled with extra military personnel. Ford was bad enough.

Weir piped in to forestall the inevitable argument, "You will be exploring a potentially unstable area, Rodney. It might be handy to have some extra muscle if you run into problems."

"Fine," McKay replied, crossing his arms and sitting back disgusted.

"And Major, I think two men plus Ford will be sufficient."

"Yes, ma'am." He was obviously as equally unhappy as McKay at the compromise.

From the miserable looks aimed in her direction, anyone else would have had a hard time believing these men risked their lives to save hers just two days earlier. "That's all for now, gentleman," she said, rising to encourage an end to the meeting. She cursed under her breath as she dropped her stylus for the fourth time that morning. Annoyed, she bent down to pick it up and found that the room tilted alarmingly when she straightened. She reached out a hand to steady herself; expecting the hard, unyielding surface of the table but felt something soft instead.

"Elizabeth?"

She realized the soft thing was Rodney's jacket and felt firm hands on her arms supporting her. The world stopped its tilting and left her sitting on the floor with her back against the wall with Sheppard and McKay to either side. McKay still had his hand on her right arm but Sheppard had released her left and was already talking to Beckett on the radio. Rodney briefly laid the back of his free hand against her cheek. She shivered at its chill and hugged her jacket around herself more tightly.

"She's burning up."

Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes. She didn't have time to be sick right now. There was too much work to do in the aftermath of the storm, helping the Athosians rebuild and replant crops, accessing and repairing damage to the city, preparing for the wraith. A tightening on her arm and a frantic 'Elizabeth' from Rodney brought her back from her drifting thoughts as she opened her eyes. "What?"

"Um, just stay awake, will you?" He exchanged a concerned glance with Sheppard. "At least until Beckett gets here."

"I'm here," the Scot announced entering the conference room and kneeling as the major moved aside slightly to make room. He took one look at Weir's glittery eyes, pulled out the thermometer from his bag, and slipped it into her ear. When it beeped, he removed it and grimaced at the reading.

"I was right, wasn't I?" said McKay. "It was that damn Kolya. He had us standing out in the middle of the storm for an hour." He turned to Sheppard. "Sadistic, militant bastard wouldn't even let us back inside when you cut the power. Did I remember to tell you how really really glad I am that you shot the son of a bitch?"

"Ditto," agreed Sheppard grimly.

Weir watched as Beckett ignored the ranting and pulled out his stethoscope. If Rodney's hand had been cold, the bell of the stethoscope was positively glacial. She concentrated on not shivering and following his simple instructions - breathing in and out.

"Well, m'dear," the physician said, sliding the stethoscope down from his ears to his neck, "looks like you're going to be my guest for a bit."

"Great," she replied, leaning her head back against the cool wall.

"Shall I call for a litter?"

He was actually giving her the option of saying 'no', she realized. Probably not something he would have normally done given the tight line of his mouth. He was being exceedingly perceptive. Morale was low. The Athosians were practically starting over from scratch, they had lost two men to the Genii, and the idea that something as commonplace as a hurricane or a handful of Genii soldiers could almost destroy Atlantis wasn't encouraging in light of an imminent attack by hundreds, perhaps thousands of wraith. No one needed to see their leader carried out on a stretcher today and Weir was damned if she wanted it either. "No. Thank you, Carson."

"Slowly now," cautioned Beckett. He put his hand under her left elbow while Rodney's grip on her right arm changed to one of support as she stood.

The world seesawed for minute before resuming its normal balance.

"Okay?" Carson asked, bending slightly to peer at her at eye level.

"Yes."

He nodded to Rodney who let go obediently, though his hand hovered a few inches below her arm, just in case. The Canadian backed off further when she made it to the conference room door without assistance.

"Have you finished inventorying the medical supplies?" Weir asked Beckett in a casual tone as they walked through the control room. McKay and Sheppard did their best not to look too concerned as they trailed behind.

"Aye. They made a right mess of things, too. It looks as though they did manage to take some supplies through the gate, but nothing we can't live without. Can I ask what you've decided to do with Sora?"

She raised an eyebrow at him as she carefully maneuvered down the control room steps, gripping the handrail tightly. "Personal or professional interest?" she asked, knowing Sora was responsible for the vivid black and blue marks on his face, giving him a somewhat raccoonish appearance.

"Just curious," he responded as they entered the hallway outside the control room and made their way towards the infirmary.

"We've been discussing the possibility of returning her to the Genii as a gesture of goodwill."

She turned a bit too fast in reaction to McKay's cry of "HA!" and Beckett put a hand on her back to steady her.

"Sorry," Rodney mumbled as both Beckett and Sheppard shot him a glare. They walked the rest of the short distance in silence.

"Here we are, then," said Beckett as they entered the infirmary. "Kelly?" he called. The nurse appeared instantly. They were all like that. It made him wonder if they had been magician's assistants in past lives. "Help Dr. Weir change, then settle her into a bed for the night. There's a good lass."

"Sure thing," she replied and gave Weir an encouraging smile as she took her arm and led her to a curtained area of the infirmary.

"You two," said Beckett, rounding on McKay and Sheppard, and pointing to each one in turn. "Make sure no one has any reason to disturb her."

"For how long?"

"Until I say otherwise."

Sheppard knew an evasive answer when he heard one. "She's going to be alright, though?" He lowered his voice even more and leaned in, "Right, Doc?"

"I have to run some tests," he said noncommittally. McKay and Sheppard looked at each other and back at him. McKay crossed his arms and Sheppard rocked back casually on his heels. They were obviously not going anywhere without more information. He sighed. "She's running a fever and I suspect there's fluid in her lungs. Chances are she'll get some worse before she gets better." He made shooing motions, "Now, off with the both of you. Go make yourselves useful and run interference so she can have some peace. I'll let you know when I have more information."

They could have used Weir's office, but by unspoken agreement they returned to the conference room to map out a plan of action. McKay used her laptop to pull up her daily planner, apparently she hadn't found it necessary to password protect it.

"Geeze, would you look at all that," Sheppard said, reading down the enormous to-do list. "I'm beginning to get the feeling that we don't pull our weight around here."

"Speak for yourself, Major." Rodney continued to scroll down the list. "How the hell did she expect to get all that done?" He hit the print button, sending the list to the wireless printer that made its home in the conference room.

There was a light knock on the door and Rodney instinctively lowered the laptop screen.

Sheppard gave him a clout on the shoulder. "We're not doing anything wrong," he reminded him.

"Oh, right," he said, flipping the screen back up as Sheppard opened the door to find Zelenka and Grodin.

"Yes, gentlemen?"

Peter leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Can we come in?"

Sheppard stood aside and allowed them to enter, closing the door behind them.

"What's going on?" Grodin asked.

"I don't know what you mean," Sheppard replied innocently, glancing at Rodney who was staring intently at the computer screen so he wouldn't have to make eye contact with their latest arrivals.

Zelenka pushed up his glasses and shrugged. "Either you tell us and we help now, or we find out on our own and our help is much later – and we will find out. You choose."

Rodney took the list off the printer and divided it into four, giving them each a part while Sheppard explained. They drafted Ford as their go-between at Zelenka's suggestion – "So that right hand will know what left hand, left foot, and right foot are doing." Radek had looked hard at McKay when he said 'left foot' and Grodin had a sudden coughing fit.

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Beckett looked back and forth between McKay and Sheppard. "Her condition is the same as it was half an hour ago, and the half hour before that, and the hour before that," he said, exasperated. He took them each by an arm and ushered them to the infirmary door. "I told you, I'd let you know if and when there's anything to report." He gave them both a firm shove into the hallway. "Any other time and I wouldn't be able to get you in the place," he muttered.

The two stood dumbly, watching the infirmary door snap shut on the doctor's last words.

Sheppard sighed. "Conference room?"

Rodney stared at the door a moment longer then dug into his pocket for the remainder of his list. "Right."

Beckett relented later that evening, allowing both men to sit with Weir in turns for a few hours, after giving them implicit instructions not to do or say anything that might wake her. Sheppard could swear the Scot was channeling Robert the Bruce as he promised dire consequences if either of them disturbed her. Though she slept restlessly, she didn't wake. Beckett had raised the head of the bed so she could breathe a little easier and propped up her sore knee with a pillow, easing that strain and doing whatever he could to make her as comfortable as possible.

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"Have you seen Dr. Weir?" asked Kavanagh.

"You just missed her," replied Sheppard, not even bothering to look up from the various reports, disks, CDs and DVDs he had spread all over the conference room table in a feeble attempt at organization.

"Really? Because I 'just missed her' yesterday too."

"What can I tell ya? She's a busy person."

"I heard a rumor she might be in the infirmary. Perhaps I should try down there."

"I wouldn't if I were you."

"Yes, well, you're not me."

"From your lips to God's ears," murmured Sheppard.

"Excuse me?" said Kavanagh.

"Is there a problem, Sir?" Ford asked as he entered the conference room and dropped another stack of reports on the table.

"Ford, shoot Kavanagh if tries to enter the infirmary," said Sheppard as he continued to paw distractedly through the reports.

"Yes, sir."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Lieutenant, have you ever disobeyed a direct order from a superior?" asked Sheppard, sorting Ford's latest submissions into the proper stacks.

"No, sir." He sounded offended by the mere suggestion.

"Do you think the first time you do so is likely to be on behalf of Dr. Kavanagh?

Ford looked the scientist up and down, disdain written all over his face. "No, sir," he replied with absolute certainty.

"There you go, Kavanagh."

Sheppard spared a glance as the scientist stalked out of the conference room. "Sneaky bastard!" he said, reaching to pick up a blue file from among the stack.

The scientist spun in the doorway to glare at him.

Sheppard held up the file and smiled innocently, "Found the sucker. It was hiding under the daily reports."

Kavanagh hesitated a moment, then turned and walked disgustedly out the door.

"Do you want me to follow him, sir?"

"Lieutenant, have you ever seen what a 9mm slug can do to the human body at close range?"

"Yes, sir, I have."

"Trust me, it's no comparison to the damage an angry Scot can inflict on you."

Ford snorted.

"I don't think we need to worry about him," he said dismissively. "There's no way he's getting past Beckett or his crew in one piece." He stood and stretched. "Lunch?"

Ford grinned in reply.

The lieutenant plowed through his food with the single-minded intensity of youthful appetite and left the mess hall to deliver some disks for Zelenka. Sheppard was still distractedly spooning peas into his mouth as he read through yet another report. Someone cleared their throat and he looked up to find one of the female scientists standing at his elbow. He couldn't recall her name but he remembered Weir pointing her out as the person who had stood up against Kavanagh's bullying when he and his team had been stuck halfway through the Stargate.

"Yes?"

"Um…" she hesitated.

He noticed a table of techs in the corner who were trying to act like they weren't interested in anything going on in his direction - and failing miserably. He turned his attention back to her.

"What can I do for you?"

"We would….I mean…I would like to know…" she hesitated again.

He waved her to Ford's vacated chair and gave her a charming smile. "What would you like to know?"

"Is Dr. Weir going to be okay, sir?" she asked, sitting.

News travels fast. "Dr. Weir is going to be fine," he assured her. At least I hope she is. From her relieved smile, he must have sounded convincing enough. She obviously couldn't wait to return to her table and spread the good news but wasn't sure how to extract herself gracefully. He gave her a wink. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir!"

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McKay watched from across the infirmary as Weir broke into yet another violent coughing fit. "She's worse, Carson!"

"Aye, it's not unexpected, Rodney."

"Can't you do anything?" He was relieved when the fit subsided and allowed her some uninterrupted painful shallow breaths.

"We have her on antibiotics. Give them some time to work. I'm putting her on oxygen and have given her something to ease the coughing and make her more comfortable. If you want to be helpful, see if you can get her to eat a little something," said the doctor, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before returning to his duties.

"What's the word?" asked Sheppard, entering the infirmary with a lunch tray for McKay.

"Beckett says we wait." He sighed. "Patience has never been my strong suit."

"Really?" said Sheppard, "I hadn't noticed." He realized how worried the scientist was when he didn't respond to jibe. It had occurred to him that McKay might have more than just professional respect and admiration for Weir, though he doubted if their resident genius realized it, or would act on it even if he did. "She's going to be okay, Rodney." He watched the man drag his eyes away from the bed in the corner.

"Right. Of course she is," he replied. Though his words sounded cheerful and positive, there was an undercurrent of worry.

"Call me, if you need me," he said, giving the scientist an encouraging slap on the arm.

Beckett looked on as Sheppard put a lunch tray down on a table and left the infirmary. He should have banned the both of them. Something about their presence though… Elizabeth definitely rested easier when they were around. He suspected there might still be a few Genii demons to be exorcised there. Their presence seemed to keep those demons at bay and that was a good enough reason to let them stay until she was feeling well enough to tackle the problem herself or with Heightmeyer's help. He watched as McKay tried to tempt Elizabeth with some soup.

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It was late now. Beckett had fallen asleep on his office couch, apparently before remembering to tell the nurse when to kick Rodney out of the infirmary. He was doing his best impression of a church mouse at the moment, reading through the latest mission reports on her laptop. Afraid that his keystrokes might disturb her, he was quietly making handwritten notations on a pad beside him. Sheppard had once teased him about his heavy-handed typing - "You pound on that thing like it's a cheap cut of meat, McKay. What'd it ever do to you?"

He flipped the page of the legal pad over to a fresh sheet, glancing at Elizabeth out of habit and was startled to find her awake and staring at him, if somewhat glassy-eyed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, obviously upset.

He glanced around looking for the nurse. She had just been taking the sick woman's temperature a few minutes ago but now, of course, was nowhere to be seen. "What's there to be sorry about?" he whispered in reply, hoping to reassure her. It wasn't as if she had a choice about being sick.

"I didn't tell you about Atlantis." She said, holding out her hand in appeal.

"It's alright," he said mystified. Rising from his chair, he reached out and patted her hand a little awkwardly. She clasped it in her own, drawing him closer so that she could rest her cheek on it. It felt as if she'd put it in a furnace.

"I knew you would try to talk me out of it. I knew you wouldn't be able to, and that we would fight. I didn't want to fight with you," she sighed, closing her eyes and drifting back to sleep.

Realization hit him like a ton of bricks. What was that guy's name? Simon. That was it. She must think he was Simon. Not that she had ever said anything directly to him about the guy. What little he did know was from reading her recent mission report for M5S-224. Sheppard may have partied with ghosts, but Elizabeth's Simon was still alive and well back on earth as far as he could tell. A dog person too…it figured.

He now found himself in an awkward position - standing with a laptop in one hand but unable to reach either the chair or floor because he was afraid to move his other hand and wake her. He was feeling more than a little foolish just standing there when Beckett appeared beside him, still groggy with sleep and a little bemused by his obvious predicament.

"It's all right, Rodney, she'll probably wake when put this on her anyway," he said quietly, indicating the cooling blanket the nurse was preparing. He gently extracted McKay's hand. "Off to bed with you now. It's late," he admonished, giving him a gentle but firm push toward the infirmary door.

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Beckett didn't have to say anything when he arrived in the conference room; his smile told them all they needed to know.

"She's better?"

"Much better," Beckett assured them. "Her fever's broken and her lungs are sounding clearer. She's not going to be a hundred percent for a bit, but she's definitely on the mend," he said. "You can come by for a short visit after dinner," he said before leaving.

McKay face split with an uncharacteristically large smile. Sheppard looked at him knowingly and smiled back.

"What?" asked the scientist.

"Nothing."

"I'm happy she's better."

"Me too," agreed the Major amiably.

"Right. So, back to work then?"

"Sure." Sheppard made an effort to suppress his smile.

Rodney gave him one more suspicious look before turning his attention back to the laptop. They worked for several hours before Sheppard finally spoke up.

"Time to go, Rodney."

"Oh? Already?"

"Yes, already. 'Already' as in you've checked your watch every fifteen minutes so you know it's okay to go see her."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Just come on, McKay," he said, closing the laptop and making for the door.

They found Weir awake and eating blue jello with a less than enthusiastic look on her face.

"My favorite," Rodney said excitedly.

Weir gave him a jaundiced glare, then burst into coughing fit, covering her mouth with her napkin.

"Lung butter," said Sheppard with sympathy.

"Oh, how wonderfully descriptive of you," Rodney said, looking quite disgusted.

"Yes," agreed Weir.

"Sorry," said the major, shooting them both a charmingly innocent look.

"So, I understand you've both been handling things in my absence?"

"With some help," said Sheppard.

"Would you like to catch me up?"

Rodney opened his mouth to reply but Sheppard stepped lightly on his foot and tilted his head ever so slightly to the left. McKay glanced that direction and saw Beckett standing out of Weir's line of sight, arms crossed, glaring at them. "Umm…tomorrow's soon enough, Elizabeth."

She looked at him suspiciously. "It's that bad?"

"Actually," Sheppard said, "We did a pretty darn good job, if I do say so myself. In fact, I've got a meeting I'm going to be late for if I don't get moving." He gave her blanket-covered toe a tweak and made for the infirmary door. "Enjoy your jello!" he called over his shoulder.

"So, everything's running smoothly?" she asked, putting aside the jello and leaning back into her pillow.

"Well, it's not perfect, but no major disasters," he proudly replied.

She rolled over on her side trying to find a more comfortable position and closed her eyes. "That's a first. Three days in a row without a disaster. Maybe I should have you two run the place permanently?"

"Let's not," he said.

"No?" she murmured sleepily.

"I have the distinct feeling we're close to reaching maximum entropy when it comes to running Atlantis."

Weir didn't respond.

He watched her sleep for a moment, then pulled the covers up a little higher around her shoulders before leaving.

She cracked a sleepy eye open in time to see him walk out the infirmary door.

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Beckett had already told her he was planning to release her in the morning. In the meantime, she tried to get a jump on things by going over what had been accomplished in her absence. Sheppard, surprisingly enough, seemed to be an excellent administrator when he put his mind to it. He sat by her bed, leaning back so his chair was on two legs, propping his feet up on another one, going over the status of various projects on the laptop that was perched precariously on his thighs. Ford was to his right, taking notes for them.

Sheppard glanced at his watch and looked warily towards Beckett's office. "Well, that's the big stuff and HE will have my hide if I overstay my welcome," he said, thumbing in the direction of the office and snapping the laptop shut.

"Just a moment, Major. There's a matter of an incident with Kavanagh that needs to be addressed…"

He matched her arched eyebrow with one of his own. "Yes?"

"He said you threaten to shoot him."

"Me? I never threatened to shoot him. Did I threaten to shoot Kavanagh, Ford?" he asked, turning to his second in command for support.

"No, sir. You did not."

Sheppard smiled inwardly. The kid was learning. He still doubted the young lieutenant would tell an outright lie, but he obviously saw no need to volunteer the information that Sheppard had threatened to have him do the actual shooting.

She looked at them doubtfully.

"Scout's honor," he assured her, holding up two fingers.

Weir gave him an amused but dubious look, "That's a peace sign, John."

"Oh, right."

There was a creaking in the vicinity of Beckett's office and Sheppard practically catapulted to his feet. "Gotta go." Ford quickly followed suit. The men beat a hasty retreat from the infirmary.

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"Light duty, Elizabeth - half days for the next week or so," Beckett reminded her as they walked to her quarters. Noticing the rebellious set of her mouth he added, "Which for anyone else would be a full day's work, according to the Fantastic Five."

Her lips quirked. "I thought the Major wasn't going to let Lieutenant Ford name things any more?"

"He made an exception in this particular case. Here we are, then," he said as they arrived at her door.

She palmed it open and took a step back in surprise. "What's all this?" she asked looking through the door. The place was crammed full of everything imaginable.

"The major didn't tell you? It's from the 'Name the Hurricane' contest.

"I don't remember entering that particular contest," she said suspiciously, stepping into her quarters and looking around in amazement.

"Apparently, the entrants got together and decided to turn it into the Weir recovery fund instead."

"Really?" she sat down rather abruptly on her bed, the only clear space available; still somewhat dazed by the enormous amount of goods stashed in every nook and cranny.

Beckett grinned, delighted by her reaction. "It seems you are quite beloved," he said. She looked at him and her eyes glittered, but not with fever this time. "As if there was any doubt," he added quietly before slipping out the door.