Title: What's in a Name?
Author: LurkerLa
Rating: K
Pairing: John/Elizabeth - what else?
Spoilers: None
Summary: Sometimes, Elizabeth felt that she could measure her life by nicknames.
Author's Note: I want to be sure to let y'all know that I actually like all of the various nicknames mentioned within this fic - I know people who go by most of them. So I don't mean to imply anything bad about any of the names; it's just how I think Elizabeth would see them. Oh, also, I think the title sucks and is way too cliché, so if anyone has a better idea, let me know.

Feedback and constructive criticism are always appreciated.

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Sometimes, Elizabeth felt that she could measure her life by nicknames.

As a child, she'd been Little Lizzy, so as not to confuse her with her next door neighbor, a girl three years older who was also called Lizzie.

Her family had continued to call her that until Little Lizzy started second grade, at which point she informed them in no uncertain terms that she was not little and should be called just plain Lizzy.

When she started middle school, she decided Lizzy was a name for a child or a cheerleader. She needed something a little cooler, a little sleeker. Liz was the way to go. Her parents resisted the change, and to this day her brothers still called her Lizzy (Lizard-Breath when they were feeling mean), but outside the family, she refused to answer to anything but Liz.

By the time she'd finished high school, a bad relationship that resulted in her being called "Liz the Ice Queen" had soured her on that nickname. Deciding that college was a place to reinvent herself, she started going by Beth.

Beth lasted until her junior year and her advanced poli-sci class with Dr. Albert Roth, a dignified, somewhat old fashioned man, formerly of the U.S. State Department. From the first day of class he'd called her nothing but Elizabeth. She'd corrected him at first, but when he didn't respond she took to ignoring it.

By the start of her senior year, Dr. Roth had become her favorite professor. She'd chosen him to guide her senior honors thesis, which required them to meet several times a week. It was during one of these meetings that she'd finally asked him why he never called her Beth.

He'd looked up from her notes, raising an eyebrow at her. "Beth is a soft name," he said. "You aren't soft."

Elizabeth was offended at first, and despite the passage of nearly four years, she felt that same sting she'd felt when her ex-boyfriend started calling her an ice queen. But the feeling didn't last long, as Dr. Roth soon continued.

"You are a strong woman, Elizabeth, and you deserve a strong and dignified name. I know you will go far in life. I look forward to hearing about the successes of Elizabeth Weir."

It took some time for her to accustom herself entirely to Elizabeth. It had been her name her entire life, yet until recently she'd rarely heard it. But slowly she did grow used to it, and whether it was the name, the way people reacted to it, or Dr. Roth's words, she did feel a new sense of strength and dignity.

In the years that had passed since she graduated, she'd grown so comfortable with Elizabeth that it was actually something of a shock when her family called her Lizzy.

When she first started dating Simon, he'd tried to give her a nickname. Of all the names she'd been called in her life, she hated his choice the most. She was definitely not a Liza, she told him emphatically. For the remainder of their relationship, she'd always been Elizabeth.

Once she'd been given command of Atlantis, she'd been certain that she would be Elizabeth for the rest of her life. Given that the expedition was likely to be one way, she'd believed that she wouldn't even hear her brothers call her Lizzy anymore. And if she were honest with herself, she would admit that she would miss that; she would even miss being called Lizard-Breath during their annual snowball fights.

But she hadn't counted on one John Sheppard, irreverent flyboy with a habit of disobeying orders.

The first time he called her Liz, it had been during a rare break in work, when several of the senior expedition members had gathered to watch a movie. She'd responded with a raised eyebrow – a trick she'd been practicing since Albert Roth first used it on her – and John had immediately subsided.

A few days later, he found her on the balcony. In the process of telling her about the resources of the planet he'd just visited, he'd slipped in a Lizzy. She'd frowned at him, and he quickly reverted to Elizabeth.

They were having coffee in the mess one morning when he tried out Beth. She didn't even have a chance to correct him before he wrinkled his nose, shook his head, and said, emphatically, "Elizabeth."

When Elizabeth felt a slight thrill go through her at the sound of her name, she knew she was in trouble.

From that point on, it became a game for him. He tried as many variations of her name as he could think of, from the somewhat childish Libby to the slightly old fashioned Betsy. When she quelled him after each attempt, he immediately responded with her full name.

Elizabeth had to admit that she enjoyed the game, if only because of the secret pleasure she got from hearing him say her name.

The nickname he eventually adopted for her happened so slightly that she didn't even notice it. He started by slurring the first syllable, something she put down to pure laziness.

By the time he was calling her 'Lizabeth, she could do nothing but accept it.

She failed to realize when he dropped the "a" in her name, shortening it to Lizbeth, until one day when, as she was walking down a corridor, she overheard Rodney correct him.

"It's Eliz-a-beth," her head scientist said.

"That's what I'm saying," John replied.

Rodney sighed, and Elizabeth had to smile. She knew for a fact that Rodney often dropped the first "E" when he was talking to her – simply because he spoke too quickly to be bothered with it – so she wasn't surprised that John wasn't taking him seriously.

She came around the corner and found herself in the same room with the men. Rodney's back was to her, and it was obvious he was unaware of her presence. John, on the other hand, caught her eye and acknowledged her with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

Rodney sighed, and said slowly, as if to a child, "Elizabeth. E-liz-a-beth."

John just shrugged, and moved past the other man. As he passed by Elizabeth, he said, so quietly that she was the only one who could hear him, with so much feeling that it nearly brought tears to her eyes, "Lizbeth."

That was it, the moment she was gone. She'd never call him on the nickname, if only he would continue to say it that way, in that tone that somehow seemed to be only for her, that carried a wealth of emotion and meaning.

When John had called her Lizzy she felt young; hearing Liz made her feel awkward; Beth made her feel weak; Libby, Betsy, Liza, Lisa, Lissa, Bits and all the other various names he'd come up with just made her feel ridiculous.

When he called her Lizbeth, she felt loved.