ext_1675 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
laceymcbain.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2008-01-18 11:05 am
laceymcbain.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-01-18 11:05 am
Entry tags:
Widow's Walk by Synecdochic (PG)
Fandom: STARGATE ATLANTIS
Pairing: Weir/Zelenka, implied Sheppard/McKay
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
synecdochic
Author Website: venus in furs
Why this must be read: This author's exceptionally well-known for a couple of fics - you know the ones - but this little piece, written for an![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sga_flashfic challenge is probably one of my favourite Elizabeth pieces. It captures the difficulties of the position that she's in, how she can want someone to share that with and still know that ultimately she's alone in everything: the decisions she makes, the consequences, etc. She can't promise anything, and Zelenka's exactly the perfect counterpoint to that ... caring enough not to demand anything from her, offering comfort and more.
It's a beautiful character piece, and even if you typically don't read het pairings, you should read this.
Zelenka is the one to reach across the table and rest a hand on her wrist. His skin is cool and damp, but she takes comfort from the touch. "You have not slept, I think," he says, too gentle. "There is nothing more we can do tonight. Not until we know more." He flicks his eyes over to Lorne for confirmation; Lorne nods, once. "Perhaps we should sleep, and come back to the problem in the morning, more rested."
"Yes," Elizabeth says. She doesn't know how she's supposed to sleep with the weight of every bad decision pressing down upon her chest, but perhaps, she thinks, it's not only for her. No one in the city has slept much in the past week. "I think -- a few hours. Perhaps we'll know more by then." Perhaps Sheppard isn't dead; perhaps by the time she wakes they'll have come stumbling into the gateroom, laughing with relief or nursing new injuries, ripe with another victory against the odds.
She stops at the railing on her way out of the conference room. It might only be her imagination, but she thinks she can feel where her hands have worn a spot in the railing, a subtle dip and curve where they settle and rest.
Read the Story / Feedback the Author: Widow's Walk
Pairing: Weir/Zelenka, implied Sheppard/McKay
Author on LJ:
synecdochicAuthor Website: venus in furs
Why this must be read: This author's exceptionally well-known for a couple of fics - you know the ones - but this little piece, written for an
sga_flashfic challenge is probably one of my favourite Elizabeth pieces. It captures the difficulties of the position that she's in, how she can want someone to share that with and still know that ultimately she's alone in everything: the decisions she makes, the consequences, etc. She can't promise anything, and Zelenka's exactly the perfect counterpoint to that ... caring enough not to demand anything from her, offering comfort and more.It's a beautiful character piece, and even if you typically don't read het pairings, you should read this.
Zelenka is the one to reach across the table and rest a hand on her wrist. His skin is cool and damp, but she takes comfort from the touch. "You have not slept, I think," he says, too gentle. "There is nothing more we can do tonight. Not until we know more." He flicks his eyes over to Lorne for confirmation; Lorne nods, once. "Perhaps we should sleep, and come back to the problem in the morning, more rested."
"Yes," Elizabeth says. She doesn't know how she's supposed to sleep with the weight of every bad decision pressing down upon her chest, but perhaps, she thinks, it's not only for her. No one in the city has slept much in the past week. "I think -- a few hours. Perhaps we'll know more by then." Perhaps Sheppard isn't dead; perhaps by the time she wakes they'll have come stumbling into the gateroom, laughing with relief or nursing new injuries, ripe with another victory against the odds.
She stops at the railing on her way out of the conference room. It might only be her imagination, but she thinks she can feel where her hands have worn a spot in the railing, a subtle dip and curve where they settle and rest.
Read the Story / Feedback the Author: Widow's Walk
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