different enough (elizabeth/jennifer keller)

title: different enough
by: quasiradiant
rating: pg
pairing: elizabeth/jennifer keller
wordcount: ~1400.
for: viciouswishes in the elizabeth weir round at sg_femslash.
summary: some things never change.



Shadows start to lengthen over the water.

A thousand planets in this galaxy, she thinks. She's only seen two or three of them, and one of them was covered in mud. But there's something beautiful about them, something exotic and bright and different.

Not so different, though. Not when there are planets like this one, where beaches of mica-bright sand stretch all the way to the horizon and the sea breeze smells like cocoa butter and salt. Not when there are places exactly like the ones she came from.

Jennifer shakes her head, concentrates on the task at hand. Elizabeth slipped away after the end of their ceremonial meal. And now that the rest of them are ready to go, she's still missing.

Every time they call her on the radio, she says, “Just give me one more minute, okay?”

John had turned and looked at her from the jumper's pilot seat and said, “She'll kill me. You have to go, Dr. Keller.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “You don't think she'll kill me?” Her flak vest itched and she didn't want to venture back out into the sun.

John shook his head. “She can't,” he said. “You're a girl. And,” he said, “um, she likes you?”

Now Jennifer pushes her hair back from her face and looks down the beach. She can feel Rodney and Ronon watching her back from the jumper hatch.

She tries to think like Elizabeth, tries to think of where she'd go to be alone. There's a group of trees down a few hundred feet away. She decides that it's as good a place as any to check.

The sand pushes up between her toes. She carries her shoes, tied together by their laces, in one hand. The sun slants into her eyes, and she thinks of summers on the Jersey Shore. She smiles and shades her face with her free hand.

Elizabeth is sitting with her back against a tree, her crutches laid neatly beside her. She doesn't look up as Jennifer approaches, just keeps her eyes closed and her face tilted up towards the light that's angling down through the leaves.

“Hey,” Jennifer says. “Been looking for you.”

“Let me guess: John made you come find me,” Elizabeth says. She smiles a little to herself and opens her eyes.

“For somebody with such a big gun, he sure is afraid of you,” Jennifer says. “And I have too strong a sense of self-preservation to ask why.”

Elizabeth looks up at Jennifer through her eyelashes. Her hair, long enough now to cover the scars that criss-cross her scalp, moves in the breeze. “It's just been,” she finally says, “such a long time since I've seen, well, anything that wasn't the Atlantis infirmary. I was going nuts.”

Elizabeth looks out over the water. The waves lap softly and easily against the shore. “I needed,” Elizabeth says, “some time to myself.”

Jennifer sits down next to Elizabeth, legs tucked underneath her. The sand is warm and soft under her fingers. “I think I'm insulted. I think the infirmary's an excellent place to spend time.”

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “You would.”

“Hey,” Jennifer says, poking at Elizabeth's thigh with one sandy finger. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Elizabeth says, “I swear. I'm just so, so fucking sick of being taken care of twenty-four hours a day.”

Elizabeth's eyes darken and her mouth hardens. Mood swings like these have become more regular than Jennifer's comfortable with. Rage and some kind of profound sadness lurk just under Elizabeth's newly scarred exterior. She's a survivor, she survives, and that's just the problem, Jennifer thinks.

It's not easy to be the survivor when you missed fifteen of your people's funerals. That she was in a coma is no excuse, in Elizabeth's mind.

“I'm just so sorry,” Elizabeth had cried into Jennifer's shoulder one night, long after every other patient had slipped off to sleep. “I'm just so, so sorry.”

Jennifer tries to remind herself that only Elizabeth's physical health is her concern. Everything else, well, that's up to Elizabeth and Kate Heightmayer. It has to be.

Elizabeth's a patient, and feeling anything more for her than just doctorly concern would be inappropriate. Entirely inappropriate.

Jennifer tries to remind herself.

Jennifer shrugs. “I personally thought the negotiation today went quite well.” She looks at Elizabeth out of the corner of her eye. Elizabeth's jaw is hard and set. “Nobody was trying to take care of you there, were they? I didn't. John didn't. Rodney certainly didn't,” Jennifer says, but Elizabeth doesn't laugh.

Elizabeth sighs. Darkness falls fast on this planet and already the thick night is falling hard onto their shoulders and eyelashes. “I'm sorry. I, I just,” Elizabeth starts, but doesn't finish. “I'm sorry,” she says again for the thousandth time.

“Elizabeth,” Jennifer says. “You just don't have anything to be sorry for.” Her hand is on Elizabeth's knee. She imagines she can feel the pins, the metal plates, through Elizabeth's skin and slacks. “It's okay. I know that the infirmary's not the most exciting place to spend a few months. Or the best decorated.” Jennifer smiles. “And while I've tried to get Nurse Regan to stop singing...”

“Oh, I think she's just trying to impress you,” Elizabeth says. “I think she has a little crush on you.” Elizabeth smiles, her dark mood gone like sand in a breeze.

Jennifer blushes. They've spent months together, now, day in and day out, and Elizabeth's learned just exactly how to get under her skin. “She does not.”

Elizabeth grins. “She does. I can tell.”

They both hear John whine through their radios. “Ladies! Should we just leave you here?”

Jennifer taps her radio. “Give me a damn minute,” she says. She raises her eyebrows at Elizabeth, questioning, and finally Elizabeth nods and sighs. “Give us a couple of minutes to get back to the jumper, okay?” Jennifer asks.

John grumbles and the radio falls silent.

“We've gotta go,” Jennifer says. “I'm sorry.”

Elizabeth shakes her head. “Can't hide forever, can I?”

Jennifer pushes herself up and stretches a hand out to help Elizabeth up. Their hands touch and Elizabeth's grip is sure, and Jennifer pulls. Their faces nearly touch. Between them, their hands are clasped and Elizabeth's weight rests hard against Jennifer's chest.

Elizabeth's eyes are big and sad. “It's just,” she says again.

Jennifer shakes her head. “Elizabeth, you once told me that you'd trust your life in my hands.” She smiles and neither of them pulls away. “I'm not quite done taking care of you yet, okay? I'm trying to be worthy of that trust.”

Just an inch, Jennifer thinks. She'd just have to lean forward an inch and her lips would touch Elizabeth's and everything would change.

Or maybe nothing would. She came all the way to another galaxy and there are still long, smooth beaches and coral-pink sunsets. There are still palm trees and sea breezes.

There are still unattainable women with pretty eyes and strong jaws and sharp tongues.

She smiles slowly and maybe sadly. “Lemme get those for you,” she says, and holds Elizabeth's hand as she reaches down to grab Elizabeth's crutches.

Elizabeth starts off down the beach, crutches only slightly unsure in the sand. Jennifer walks a step or two behind her, close enough to help. Elizabeth's back is long and straight, and one day, her legs will learn to bear weight again, Jennifer knows.

Elizabeth stops abruptly and looks back over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says, “I may have gotten something wrong.”

Jennifer says, “Uh, okay.” John's whining in her ear again. She ignores him. She meets Elizabeth's eyes. “What?”

“It might not be Regan,” Elizabeth says, “who's got the crush.” She grins.

“Might not--” Jennifer starts, but then stops. She can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “Oh,” she says. “I see.”

“Just thought I'd let you know,” Elizabeth says and then turns back towards the jumper in the distance.

“'Bout time,” Jennifer hears John say through her radio. “We thought you were dead.”

“Shove it up your ass, Sheppard,” Jennifer says. “That's not funny.”

She hears him sigh. “Just get over here. We're ready to head home.”

“Yes, sir,” Jennifer says.

It is a lot like home, Jennifer thinks. Then she looks at Elizabeth, picking her way carefully up the beach.

She smiles. A lot like home, yes. But maybe just different enough.