[just_muse_me] - 12.2.6
If you could travel back in time, would you? Why or why not? [ jmm:12.2.6]
If he could go back in time, John would be the perfect husband. He'd do his own laundry and be home by dinner, and he never would have kissed Paula, the prettier of Nancy Sheppard's siblings. He would make her lunch and buy her cable and do all the responsible things a husband does, like take out the trash and smoke a pipe... It would be sickeningly 1952 and they'd buy a golden retriever puppy when she was barefoot and barely a month pregnant. She'd wear a frilly apron and call him 'Hubby' and they'd live happy ever after...
"Shouldn't you be at home, man?" Mitch had asked, even while tossing him a beer.
"I can't face her right now." He took a long sip then, hoping it could cover his apprehension.
"I know what you mean," Mitch was saying, leading him out onto the back porch. Jenny's watching them from the kitchen, he knows.
"This is it, this is the end." And part of him hoped he meant it.
"For you and Nancy?"
"For me and you." It's clear by the porchlight Mitch knows it too.
The desert's surprisingly cold at night, and he clutches Nancy's letter like a lifeline. He won't open it, not when he knows what it says.
P.S. I want a divorce never sounded so cold.
That night he dreams, and that really shouldn't surprise him. But it isn't a nightmare like so many other nights, hands twisting in issue-sheets, boots wearing callouses in his heels - laced on tight in case of a sneak-attack.
He wakes feeling soft and loved, rubbing wetness from his eyes with a ringed hand. The dream was fuzzy though, and he can't remember what it was about.
"Up, lazy-bones. No more tears." His mom, shaking him awake. "You're gonna be late for school, Johnny-boy."
He blinks bleary eyes at his ceiling tiles, wondering how it is he can feel sand under his skin. And when the ceiling melts into tent poles, bowing in the next great dust storm, he really isn't surprised.
"Sheppy misses his mommy again."
"Shut up." That earns a pillow to the face. And that's the only warning before the whole place goes up.
"I think I've missed the point."
"Well, I'll say you have, Mr. Sheppard."
"Ah-uh." He's wagging a finger, clearly amused. "That's Captain Sheppard."
"Do you know why you're here, Captain?"
"No." He's still grinning like a moron. "I think I said that once before."
"So you did, my mistake." A file sails to the desk with a slap, his psychological profile sliding across the desk of its own accord. "I want your wings, Sheppard."
"Excuse me?"
"Not this time."
"Maybe this isn't a good time."
"No. Ask it again."
"Do you have any regret--"
"--No."
"You sure about that?" His knuckles are white, and he envies her calm.
"Hell no."
"That's okay."
"Like Hell it's okay!" He stands up to face her, the green flecking in his eyes with anger, pupils dilating and contracting with a fist.
"Please sit, Major."
"I don't think so." She's not looking at him, he just wants her to look at him. "Look at me!"
"John. You're scaring me." He sits like a bag of bricks.
"Don't call me that."
She's apologizing, he realizes with a sudden clench of fear. Why is she apologizing for anything.
"I kissed your sister."
"You what?" It's more of a laugh than a question.
"You heard me." Tell me to go, he wants to say. Tell me you hate me.
"Do you love her?"
"No! What the fuck?"
"Then I don't care." He cuts her off with a kiss, and they never talk about it again.
"Ask me again."
"How many times?"
"As many as it takes."
"John," she moans in his ear, erection dying in her fist.
"I'm.. sorry. Just, give me a minute." He scrubs a hand over his face, and he needs more than a minute. To her credit, she seems to get that, moving away with liquid ease.
"As long as you need." They both know it's bullshit.
"Ask me again!"
"Do you have any regrets?" Kate asks with a sigh, not even looking up from the paper. She knows the drill by now. She knows John Sheppard just needs this comfort of--
"Yes."
"What?" she actually asks, startled as she removes her glasses and looks up. His smile is betrayed by glassy hazel.
"Yes, I have regrets."
"If.. you could go back, would you...change anything?"
"Not a damn thing." She lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "What, surprised?"
"Not even a little." They both know, it's bullshit.
So ask John Sheppard again. If he could go back in time, would he change anything? He's seen alternate versions of himself, dead, alive; in stages in between. He's been to the distant outreaches of his origin galaxy, and he lives in a distant one. His best friends are aboriginals of Pegasus, and he never thought he'd be okay with having a "boyfriend."
So ask Colonel Sheppard if he has any regrets. He'll lie to you, but he sure as Hell isn't lying when he says he doesn't want any of it changed. He wouldn't save his mother, or his marriage. He wouldn't live in a four-poster house with a four-poster bed in a four-poster life. He won't carry on the Sheppard legacy of his father, or his grandfather, but he might just save the world. On a daily basis, even.
And when asked if he would go back, fix it all. Bring Mitch back, fuck up the snow-plow that killed his dog.. He knows it isn't his place. He knows these things make him who he is. And he will never, ever stop declining that outstanding invitation to drop in on the Atlantis MENSA meetings.
Muse: Colonel John Sheppard
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 979
If he could go back in time, John would be the perfect husband. He'd do his own laundry and be home by dinner, and he never would have kissed Paula, the prettier of Nancy Sheppard's siblings. He would make her lunch and buy her cable and do all the responsible things a husband does, like take out the trash and smoke a pipe... It would be sickeningly 1952 and they'd buy a golden retriever puppy when she was barefoot and barely a month pregnant. She'd wear a frilly apron and call him 'Hubby' and they'd live happy ever after...
"Shouldn't you be at home, man?" Mitch had asked, even while tossing him a beer.
"I can't face her right now." He took a long sip then, hoping it could cover his apprehension.
"I know what you mean," Mitch was saying, leading him out onto the back porch. Jenny's watching them from the kitchen, he knows.
"This is it, this is the end." And part of him hoped he meant it.
"For you and Nancy?"
"For me and you." It's clear by the porchlight Mitch knows it too.
The desert's surprisingly cold at night, and he clutches Nancy's letter like a lifeline. He won't open it, not when he knows what it says.
P.S. I want a divorce never sounded so cold.
That night he dreams, and that really shouldn't surprise him. But it isn't a nightmare like so many other nights, hands twisting in issue-sheets, boots wearing callouses in his heels - laced on tight in case of a sneak-attack.
He wakes feeling soft and loved, rubbing wetness from his eyes with a ringed hand. The dream was fuzzy though, and he can't remember what it was about.
"Up, lazy-bones. No more tears." His mom, shaking him awake. "You're gonna be late for school, Johnny-boy."
He blinks bleary eyes at his ceiling tiles, wondering how it is he can feel sand under his skin. And when the ceiling melts into tent poles, bowing in the next great dust storm, he really isn't surprised.
"Sheppy misses his mommy again."
"Shut up." That earns a pillow to the face. And that's the only warning before the whole place goes up.
"I think I've missed the point."
"Well, I'll say you have, Mr. Sheppard."
"Ah-uh." He's wagging a finger, clearly amused. "That's Captain Sheppard."
"Do you know why you're here, Captain?"
"No." He's still grinning like a moron. "I think I said that once before."
"So you did, my mistake." A file sails to the desk with a slap, his psychological profile sliding across the desk of its own accord. "I want your wings, Sheppard."
"Excuse me?"
"Not this time."
"Maybe this isn't a good time."
"No. Ask it again."
"Do you have any regret--"
"--No."
"You sure about that?" His knuckles are white, and he envies her calm.
"Hell no."
"That's okay."
"Like Hell it's okay!" He stands up to face her, the green flecking in his eyes with anger, pupils dilating and contracting with a fist.
"Please sit, Major."
"I don't think so." She's not looking at him, he just wants her to look at him. "Look at me!"
"John. You're scaring me." He sits like a bag of bricks.
"Don't call me that."
She's apologizing, he realizes with a sudden clench of fear. Why is she apologizing for anything.
"I kissed your sister."
"You what?" It's more of a laugh than a question.
"You heard me." Tell me to go, he wants to say. Tell me you hate me.
"Do you love her?"
"No! What the fuck?"
"Then I don't care." He cuts her off with a kiss, and they never talk about it again.
"Ask me again."
"How many times?"
"As many as it takes."
"John," she moans in his ear, erection dying in her fist.
"I'm.. sorry. Just, give me a minute." He scrubs a hand over his face, and he needs more than a minute. To her credit, she seems to get that, moving away with liquid ease.
"As long as you need." They both know it's bullshit.
"Ask me again!"
"Do you have any regrets?" Kate asks with a sigh, not even looking up from the paper. She knows the drill by now. She knows John Sheppard just needs this comfort of--
"Yes."
"What?" she actually asks, startled as she removes her glasses and looks up. His smile is betrayed by glassy hazel.
"Yes, I have regrets."
"If.. you could go back, would you...change anything?"
"Not a damn thing." She lets out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "What, surprised?"
"Not even a little." They both know, it's bullshit.
So ask John Sheppard again. If he could go back in time, would he change anything? He's seen alternate versions of himself, dead, alive; in stages in between. He's been to the distant outreaches of his origin galaxy, and he lives in a distant one. His best friends are aboriginals of Pegasus, and he never thought he'd be okay with having a "boyfriend."
So ask Colonel Sheppard if he has any regrets. He'll lie to you, but he sure as Hell isn't lying when he says he doesn't want any of it changed. He wouldn't save his mother, or his marriage. He wouldn't live in a four-poster house with a four-poster bed in a four-poster life. He won't carry on the Sheppard legacy of his father, or his grandfather, but he might just save the world. On a daily basis, even.
And when asked if he would go back, fix it all. Bring Mitch back, fuck up the snow-plow that killed his dog.. He knows it isn't his place. He knows these things make him who he is. And he will never, ever stop declining that outstanding invitation to drop in on the Atlantis MENSA meetings.
Muse: Colonel John Sheppard
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Word Count: 979