Loved and Lost
Written for the sga_lfws tourney; Prompt was "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all"; we had to write two fics, different genres, same prompt.
He looks at the woman sprawled on her stomach, sleeping soundly next to him, hair spread behind her on the pillow, sheet pulled up to her waist, baring her back to him.
He strokes her back lightly with his fingertips, her skin is soft and smooth and he smirks when his touch causes goose bumps to rise on her arms and back. His smirk becomes a full blown grin when she groans and opens one eye to glare at him, wiggling a little under his feather light touch.
“Morning, sunshine!” he quips. He leans down to kiss her gently, coaxes a smile from her.
“John,” she whines. “It’s supposed to be our day off. What happened to you wanting me to get more sleep?”
“I never said we have to get out of bed. I just don’t want to waste a beautiful day, that’s all.” John offers Elizabeth his most charming grin.
She raises an eyebrow at him and sighs. “You’re hopeless; you do realize that, don’t you?” She props herself up on one elbow and shakes her head when his eyes travel down to admire the view she’s just given him.
They’ve been sleeping together for years, but it’s only been a few months that Elizabeth’s been staying the night in John’s quarters. They still haven’t “gone public” with their relationship, nor have they defined it, not exactly, but John would like nothing more than to announce to the entire city that he’s in love with Elizabeth and wants to spend the rest of his life with her.
Telling her, on the other hand, terrifies him.
She rolls over onto her back, reaches up and pulls his face down to hers. She kisses him hungrily, swallows his moan.
He deepens the kiss, trying to tell her with his kiss and his hands what he can’t say with words.
They finally pull apart, panting slightly, and he buries his nose in her hair, suckles gently at her earlobe and neck. He breathes deeply, smells lavender and vanilla and Elizabeth. He rolls over and pulls her to him.
She snuggles closer to him, her fingers tangle in his chest hair and she sighs contentedly.
He knows the risks they take on a day to day basis. He understands that at any moment this can all be taken from him. Moments like this, however, make all those risks worthwhile.
“Elizabeth?” his voice is rough with emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him.
“Hmmmm?” she murmurs sleepily.
“I love you.” he almost-whispers. He feels her smile against his shoulder and expects a cheeky answer in response.
“I love you too.” she answers and he breathes out a sigh, drops a kiss on her head.
He realizes they may be taking a huge chance here, but right now there isn’t anywhere he’d rather be.
--/--/--
John settles the Jumper into the bay and powers down the system. He can hear Ronon and Rodney as they gather their things and start to leave the Jumper, but he just sits and stares ahead unseeingly.
“Sheppard, you comin’?” Ronon asks, uncharacteristically quietly.
John turns and looks at him; he looks lost, haunted, confused.
“Huh? Oh, yeah - “he stands, gathers his things and trudges out of the Jumper behind Ronon.
They walk through the control room, John merely shadows Ronon and avoids meeting Teyla’s eyes; tries to ignore her concerned look when she stops them to ask about the mission. He lets Rodney and Ronon fill Teyla in and escapes to his quarters as soon as he can without drawing any more attention to himself.
He slips into his room before the door has a chance to completely open; swipes a hand over the crystals to close the door and leans against it heavily as it closes behind him.
He left her there with the Asurans.
He left her to be tortured and probed for information - information he knows she will not give up easily or willingly.
He left her there to be killed. It doesn’t matter that she ordered him to go; he should have stayed. He should have fought to get her out of there too.
He drags himself up and away from the door and heads into the bathroom to shower, thinking the hot water will do him some good and help him clear his mind. He has to start putting together a plan for a search and rescue. He’s not foolish enough to think that they’ll keep her there; he knows they’ll move her as soon as they have the chance. It’s up to him to find her and bring her home.
He turns the water on as hot as he can stand it and turns to face the mirror. His eyes are empty and shadowed. He hardly recognizes his reflection in the mirror and it startles him. Any hopes he’d had of keeping his relationship with Elizabeth a secret are quickly being dashed.
He steps into the shower and lets the hot water pelt his shoulders and back for a while before reaching for the shampoo and washing his hair. He grabs the soap, lathers up and rinses off, standing under the spray longer than really is necessary, hopes the water will wash away some of the guilt he feels for leaving Elizabeth behind.
He turns off the water and towels himself dry, and as he turns back toward the sink, catches a glimpse of Elizabeth’s brush sitting on the counter top. He feels a lump form in his throat and heads toward his bedroom with a sigh.
He pulls on a pair of boxers and his eyes fall on the book Elizabeth had been reading, sitting there on his dresser, bookmark about three quarters of the way in.
She’ll never know how it ends.
Again, John feels his chest tighten painfully and he turns away from the book that’s lying there, taunting him. He takes a deep breath and drags himself over to the bed, more or less collapsing onto it. He can feel the exhaustion and weariness seeping into his bones and tries to fight it.
His head hits a pillow and he’s inundated by the scent of lavender and vanilla - Elizabeth’s shampoo. It’s suddenly become impossible to breathe; his chest tightens painfully and a lump forms in his throat. He tries to swallow around it and can’t.
The anger and guilt bubble up, threatening to overcome him as his fist collides with the offending pillow. He’s suddenly full of pent up energy and hauls himself off the bed. He looks around the room; he can see little bits of Elizabeth everywhere he turns.
With a roar he drags his arm across the dresser, scattering everything to the floor. His anger fuels him and he moved onto his drawers, pulling them out of the dresser and throwing them to the floor. The clothes tumble out of the drawers into a pile and his eyes fall on a small box that he’d had hidden there, under his t-shirts.
John falls to his knees and picks up the small box, gasping for air. He feels pressure in his chest, like bands tightening around him. His heart is pounding in his ears; it feels like it’s going to explode in his chest.
He opens the box slowly, his vision blurs as he looks at the diamond and sapphire ring nestled in the felt. It sparkles back at him brightly, mocks him. The ring represented hope, chances taken, love that seemed to get them through anything.
Now it represents everything he’s left behind; everything he’s lost.
He thought once that Tennyson had hit the nail on the head when he wrote “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”. Now he’s not so sure; he is pretty sure, though, that Tennyson had never lost that love to an evil, seemingly unstoppable alien enemy.
He had basked in Elizabeth’s love.
Now he had nothing to keep him company at night; nothing but his guilt and determination to get her back.
He looks at the woman sprawled on her stomach, sleeping soundly next to him, hair spread behind her on the pillow, sheet pulled up to her waist, baring her back to him.
He strokes her back lightly with his fingertips, her skin is soft and smooth and he smirks when his touch causes goose bumps to rise on her arms and back. His smirk becomes a full blown grin when she groans and opens one eye to glare at him, wiggling a little under his feather light touch.
“Morning, sunshine!” he quips. He leans down to kiss her gently, coaxes a smile from her.
“John,” she whines. “It’s supposed to be our day off. What happened to you wanting me to get more sleep?”
“I never said we have to get out of bed. I just don’t want to waste a beautiful day, that’s all.” John offers Elizabeth his most charming grin.
She raises an eyebrow at him and sighs. “You’re hopeless; you do realize that, don’t you?” She props herself up on one elbow and shakes her head when his eyes travel down to admire the view she’s just given him.
They’ve been sleeping together for years, but it’s only been a few months that Elizabeth’s been staying the night in John’s quarters. They still haven’t “gone public” with their relationship, nor have they defined it, not exactly, but John would like nothing more than to announce to the entire city that he’s in love with Elizabeth and wants to spend the rest of his life with her.
Telling her, on the other hand, terrifies him.
She rolls over onto her back, reaches up and pulls his face down to hers. She kisses him hungrily, swallows his moan.
He deepens the kiss, trying to tell her with his kiss and his hands what he can’t say with words.
They finally pull apart, panting slightly, and he buries his nose in her hair, suckles gently at her earlobe and neck. He breathes deeply, smells lavender and vanilla and Elizabeth. He rolls over and pulls her to him.
She snuggles closer to him, her fingers tangle in his chest hair and she sighs contentedly.
He knows the risks they take on a day to day basis. He understands that at any moment this can all be taken from him. Moments like this, however, make all those risks worthwhile.
“Elizabeth?” his voice is rough with emotions that are threatening to overwhelm him.
“Hmmmm?” she murmurs sleepily.
“I love you.” he almost-whispers. He feels her smile against his shoulder and expects a cheeky answer in response.
“I love you too.” she answers and he breathes out a sigh, drops a kiss on her head.
He realizes they may be taking a huge chance here, but right now there isn’t anywhere he’d rather be.
--/--/--
John settles the Jumper into the bay and powers down the system. He can hear Ronon and Rodney as they gather their things and start to leave the Jumper, but he just sits and stares ahead unseeingly.
“Sheppard, you comin’?” Ronon asks, uncharacteristically quietly.
John turns and looks at him; he looks lost, haunted, confused.
“Huh? Oh, yeah - “he stands, gathers his things and trudges out of the Jumper behind Ronon.
They walk through the control room, John merely shadows Ronon and avoids meeting Teyla’s eyes; tries to ignore her concerned look when she stops them to ask about the mission. He lets Rodney and Ronon fill Teyla in and escapes to his quarters as soon as he can without drawing any more attention to himself.
He slips into his room before the door has a chance to completely open; swipes a hand over the crystals to close the door and leans against it heavily as it closes behind him.
He left her there with the Asurans.
He left her to be tortured and probed for information - information he knows she will not give up easily or willingly.
He left her there to be killed. It doesn’t matter that she ordered him to go; he should have stayed. He should have fought to get her out of there too.
He drags himself up and away from the door and heads into the bathroom to shower, thinking the hot water will do him some good and help him clear his mind. He has to start putting together a plan for a search and rescue. He’s not foolish enough to think that they’ll keep her there; he knows they’ll move her as soon as they have the chance. It’s up to him to find her and bring her home.
He turns the water on as hot as he can stand it and turns to face the mirror. His eyes are empty and shadowed. He hardly recognizes his reflection in the mirror and it startles him. Any hopes he’d had of keeping his relationship with Elizabeth a secret are quickly being dashed.
He steps into the shower and lets the hot water pelt his shoulders and back for a while before reaching for the shampoo and washing his hair. He grabs the soap, lathers up and rinses off, standing under the spray longer than really is necessary, hopes the water will wash away some of the guilt he feels for leaving Elizabeth behind.
He turns off the water and towels himself dry, and as he turns back toward the sink, catches a glimpse of Elizabeth’s brush sitting on the counter top. He feels a lump form in his throat and heads toward his bedroom with a sigh.
He pulls on a pair of boxers and his eyes fall on the book Elizabeth had been reading, sitting there on his dresser, bookmark about three quarters of the way in.
She’ll never know how it ends.
Again, John feels his chest tighten painfully and he turns away from the book that’s lying there, taunting him. He takes a deep breath and drags himself over to the bed, more or less collapsing onto it. He can feel the exhaustion and weariness seeping into his bones and tries to fight it.
His head hits a pillow and he’s inundated by the scent of lavender and vanilla - Elizabeth’s shampoo. It’s suddenly become impossible to breathe; his chest tightens painfully and a lump forms in his throat. He tries to swallow around it and can’t.
The anger and guilt bubble up, threatening to overcome him as his fist collides with the offending pillow. He’s suddenly full of pent up energy and hauls himself off the bed. He looks around the room; he can see little bits of Elizabeth everywhere he turns.
With a roar he drags his arm across the dresser, scattering everything to the floor. His anger fuels him and he moved onto his drawers, pulling them out of the dresser and throwing them to the floor. The clothes tumble out of the drawers into a pile and his eyes fall on a small box that he’d had hidden there, under his t-shirts.
John falls to his knees and picks up the small box, gasping for air. He feels pressure in his chest, like bands tightening around him. His heart is pounding in his ears; it feels like it’s going to explode in his chest.
He opens the box slowly, his vision blurs as he looks at the diamond and sapphire ring nestled in the felt. It sparkles back at him brightly, mocks him. The ring represented hope, chances taken, love that seemed to get them through anything.
Now it represents everything he’s left behind; everything he’s lost.
He thought once that Tennyson had hit the nail on the head when he wrote “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”. Now he’s not so sure; he is pretty sure, though, that Tennyson had never lost that love to an evil, seemingly unstoppable alien enemy.
He had basked in Elizabeth’s love.
Now he had nothing to keep him company at night; nothing but his guilt and determination to get her back.