i've loved you for a thousand years (i'll love you for a thousand more)
title: i've loved you for a thousand years (i'll love you for a thousand more)
pairing: john/elizabeth
rating: pg
disclaimer: nothing belongs to me
In the end, it takes almost a thousand years.
John feels it, too, even if he doesn't age. He's not sure how the old woman did it; he's fairly certain that it defied logic and science and all of the laws that he thought governed time and space. Honestly, though, he doesn't really give a damn. She told him that he could save them all - save her - and that was worth the chance.
He doesn't have to do it alone, either. Major Lorne is there, always just half a step to his left, watching his back and keeping him sane. John makes sure to remember that Evan lost people too, that this isn't just his personal mission. They carry the weight of Atlantis' screams together.
It's not exactly time that they have to travel through, but dimensions. They're all variations on a theme - his life, and the thousand different permutations. Every decision made, by every person, created a new path. The jumps are exhausting, and they screw with his head, and for reasons he doesn't quite understand, they have to stay in each different version for at least a year before they could jump again.
There are times he wasn't sure he wanted to leave.
It amazes him how many of those lives he shares with Elizabeth. Some are romantic - good God, the first morning he wakes up in bed with her he isn't sure whether to have a panic attack or just pull her close and breathe her in for as long as she'll let him - while others are more professional. It doesn't really matter, though. If he and Elizabeth are in the same circles, they gravitate toward each other. Her with that eyebrow raised, and John doesn't even try to keep the smirk off of his face. This is them. And for a man that isn't sure he believes in Fate, it's certainly making a compelling case.
There's always something just a bit off, though. It's Elizabeth, but it isn't the Elizabeth he's gone through hell and back with. It isn't the Elizabeth he's slowly opened up to. It isn't the Elizabeth he has (without even realizing it until three hundred and seventy-three years into this) fallen in love with. Somewhere along the line in whatever dimension they're in, a decision had been made that's changed her just a little. And though he still loves her, she isn't his. She belongs to the John that has evolved in the same storyline.
He and Lorne don't talk about the lives they fall into. They had tried, at first, but John isn't particularly good at the talking stuff, and neither really know how to share what they're going through. Each is carrying a familiar pain that the other understands, but they both shoulder it in silence, fighting their way back to the people they've lost.
When they finally land in that right spot, it takes John a minute to realize it. He's on Atlantis - which isn't always a given in this journey - but he's not in his quarters. He blinks a few times, taking the room in before his eyes land on the person standing in front of him. Red shirt, dark hair brushing across her shoulders, eyebrow raised as she waits for him to say something. His breath comes out shaky, just like his hands at his sides, and he feels his chest constrict.
"'Lizabeth?"
The catch in his voice brings concern to her face and she takes a step forward, one hand reaching out to rest on his arm.
"John? Are you alright?"
He's so busy staring at her, searching her eyes, soaking in her touch, that he doesn't immediately hear the footsteps crashing down the hallway. But then Evan is there, breathing heavily with a look of surprised joy on his face.
"We did it, Sheppard," he pants. "We're home. We're here."
Elizabeth frowns. "What's going on?"
He hears her, but he can't answer her question. He can't even properly process it. Because Lorne is right. John feels it in the pit of his stomach and the back of his head and the center of his chest, right down to his shaking fingers. This is it. They did it.
He steps forward then, pulling Elizabeth to him and pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens for just a moment before relaxing against him. There's some hesitation, but he doesn't let her go, one hand disappearing into her hair while the other wraps around her waist. He tries to keep his desperation in check, not wanting to scare her, but he wants to make sure that she understands. He needs her to know that she's his, that he means this, that she's everything. Words have always failed him, and he wouldn't trust them with something this important anyway. He keeps his mouth as gentle as he can, letting the kisses linger.
"John?" she asks, her voice nothing more than a whisper when he finally pulls back and presses his forehead against the side of her face.
He knows he's practically clinging to her, but her hold on him is just as tight, and he thinks, for the first time in a thousand years, that this is all going to be okay.
"Just..." He licks his lips, mouth bone dry. "Later, 'Lizabeth," he murmurs. "Later."
She knows him. Nodding, she lets him hold her closer.
pairing: john/elizabeth
rating: pg
disclaimer: nothing belongs to me
In the end, it takes almost a thousand years.
John feels it, too, even if he doesn't age. He's not sure how the old woman did it; he's fairly certain that it defied logic and science and all of the laws that he thought governed time and space. Honestly, though, he doesn't really give a damn. She told him that he could save them all - save her - and that was worth the chance.
He doesn't have to do it alone, either. Major Lorne is there, always just half a step to his left, watching his back and keeping him sane. John makes sure to remember that Evan lost people too, that this isn't just his personal mission. They carry the weight of Atlantis' screams together.
It's not exactly time that they have to travel through, but dimensions. They're all variations on a theme - his life, and the thousand different permutations. Every decision made, by every person, created a new path. The jumps are exhausting, and they screw with his head, and for reasons he doesn't quite understand, they have to stay in each different version for at least a year before they could jump again.
There are times he wasn't sure he wanted to leave.
It amazes him how many of those lives he shares with Elizabeth. Some are romantic - good God, the first morning he wakes up in bed with her he isn't sure whether to have a panic attack or just pull her close and breathe her in for as long as she'll let him - while others are more professional. It doesn't really matter, though. If he and Elizabeth are in the same circles, they gravitate toward each other. Her with that eyebrow raised, and John doesn't even try to keep the smirk off of his face. This is them. And for a man that isn't sure he believes in Fate, it's certainly making a compelling case.
There's always something just a bit off, though. It's Elizabeth, but it isn't the Elizabeth he's gone through hell and back with. It isn't the Elizabeth he's slowly opened up to. It isn't the Elizabeth he has (without even realizing it until three hundred and seventy-three years into this) fallen in love with. Somewhere along the line in whatever dimension they're in, a decision had been made that's changed her just a little. And though he still loves her, she isn't his. She belongs to the John that has evolved in the same storyline.
He and Lorne don't talk about the lives they fall into. They had tried, at first, but John isn't particularly good at the talking stuff, and neither really know how to share what they're going through. Each is carrying a familiar pain that the other understands, but they both shoulder it in silence, fighting their way back to the people they've lost.
When they finally land in that right spot, it takes John a minute to realize it. He's on Atlantis - which isn't always a given in this journey - but he's not in his quarters. He blinks a few times, taking the room in before his eyes land on the person standing in front of him. Red shirt, dark hair brushing across her shoulders, eyebrow raised as she waits for him to say something. His breath comes out shaky, just like his hands at his sides, and he feels his chest constrict.
"'Lizabeth?"
The catch in his voice brings concern to her face and she takes a step forward, one hand reaching out to rest on his arm.
"John? Are you alright?"
He's so busy staring at her, searching her eyes, soaking in her touch, that he doesn't immediately hear the footsteps crashing down the hallway. But then Evan is there, breathing heavily with a look of surprised joy on his face.
"We did it, Sheppard," he pants. "We're home. We're here."
Elizabeth frowns. "What's going on?"
He hears her, but he can't answer her question. He can't even properly process it. Because Lorne is right. John feels it in the pit of his stomach and the back of his head and the center of his chest, right down to his shaking fingers. This is it. They did it.
He steps forward then, pulling Elizabeth to him and pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens for just a moment before relaxing against him. There's some hesitation, but he doesn't let her go, one hand disappearing into her hair while the other wraps around her waist. He tries to keep his desperation in check, not wanting to scare her, but he wants to make sure that she understands. He needs her to know that she's his, that he means this, that she's everything. Words have always failed him, and he wouldn't trust them with something this important anyway. He keeps his mouth as gentle as he can, letting the kisses linger.
"John?" she asks, her voice nothing more than a whisper when he finally pulls back and presses his forehead against the side of her face.
He knows he's practically clinging to her, but her hold on him is just as tight, and he thinks, for the first time in a thousand years, that this is all going to be okay.
"Just..." He licks his lips, mouth bone dry. "Later, 'Lizabeth," he murmurs. "Later."
She knows him. Nodding, she lets him hold her closer.