Fic: SGA AUs I'd Never Even Think of Writing 4/10 : Mr. & Mrs. Smith
I wanted to post this one last, but I feel so bad about not getting these out sooner like a promised. I blame it on being sick and very tired.
Title: SGA AUs I'd Never Even Think of Writing: Mr. & Mrs. Smith
Category: AU, action/adventure, drama, a little humor
Characters: John, Teyla, and a lot of weapons
Rating: PG-13 (for a bad word or two)
4. Mr. and Mrs. Smith:
“Shit,” John said, as a vase on the side bar above him shattered, raining bits of blue porcelain all around him. He slid lower down against the side bar, fumbling in his pocket for the extra shotgun shells he’d stashed there. Another round of automatic fire turned the wall opposite John into piece-meal, plaster and dust filling the air.
He loaded a few shells into his shotgun and got to his knees. He peeked around the half wall that separated the dining room from the living room and kitchen. From the direction of the shots he’d guess that Teyla was parked somewhere just passed the kitchen island, maybe behind the fridge. He aimed and fired, putting a significant hole in the island and sending a spray of wood everywhere. He wasn’t going to kill her this way, but he could flush her out.
Another burst of bullets sent him ducking back again.
“Teyla!” he yelled. “Let’s talk about this.”
Her voice was calm as she answered: “There is nothing to talk about, John. We both have a job to do; only one of us will succeed.”
John shielded himself as a picture frame exploded and showered him with falling glass. Somehow, he didn’t imagine this was what the priest had in mind when he had them promise to have and to hold. Probably the phrase ‘till death do you part’ didn’t extend to contract killers. Their life spans could be significantly shorter; Teyla certainly wanted to shorten his. John thought marriage was hard enough without his boss instructing him to kill his own wife. He wondered if Teyla would agree. She was putting a little more gusto in her assignment than he thought was strictly necessary. He understood that a job had to be done, regardless of the costs, but she didn’t have to be so damn enthusiastic about the assignment.
“Come on, Teyla,” he called, “you don’t want to do this.”
There was no reply.
“Teyla? Honey?”
John took a chance and glanced over the half wall, and was thrown back as the butt of a shotgun connected with his face. He fell back, coming within an inch of ramming his head into the floor as Teyla lowered her weapon and took aim. From his spot on his back he scissored his legs out, sweeping Teyla’s feet out from under her. She landed hard but managed to roll into a crouched position. She threw her rifle out of his reach and pulled a knife out of a sheath in her boot. She grinned at him in a way that, if he weren’t sure she wanted to kill him, would’ve made him think he was getting some tonight. There was something feral and incredibly sexy about that smile, one he hadn’t seen in their last three years of marriage. Too bad he was getting his ass handed to him and was probably going to be made into a human pin-cushion soon.
John ducked away as Teyla swung the knife at him. She whirled with the momentum and hit him in the back. He grunted in pain as the hilt connected with what felt like a kidney. He kept his head and allowed himself to fall, rolling to come up to his feet again. He blocked a kick, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid an elbow to the temple as she came in close. He avoided a few swipes and managed to grab her knife hand, twisting it away from himself and trying to ram it on the nearest hard surface.
Teyla nearly kneed him in the stomach for his pains but the knife dropped out of her hand as it smacked against the side of the china cabinet. John managed to kick it under the cabinet before she could grab it. She made a noise that sounded like a growl, and grabbed John by the front of his t-shirt, shoving him back into the china cabinet. He heard the glass in the doors crack but, thankfully, remain otherwise intact. If he lived through this, picking glass out of his back would be one experience he wanted to do without.
She let go and lunged for her knife. John grabbed her by the leg and yanked back, sending both of them sprawling to the floor.
She kicked away from him and got to her feet as he did the same.
“This is going to happen, John,” Teyla said as they circled each other. “Why draw out the process any longer?”
“There are easier ways of ending a marriage,” John replied dryly. It wasn’t really the time for sarcasm but he couldn’t help himself.
Teyla smiled, obviously recognizing his tone. “But none of them will leave me with the house, the dog, and both bank accounts. Besides, what is it they say about the thrill of the chase?”
John maneuvered away as she spun and aimed a roundhouse kick at his head. He dodged it and threw a punch, which she ducked under and threw one of her own. He blocked it and said, “That’s about love, not murder.”
“Ask any cop: murder is a crime of passion.”
“But this isn’t murder, it’s business.”
She grinned again. “I am glad you are finally seeing it my way.”
John turned and made a break for it, vaulting over the half wall that separated the kitchen and dining room. Teyla was fast on his heels, but if he could reach his Glock, hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets, he might just make it out alive.
He dove for the cabinet next to the refrigerator, flung the door open, and his hand had just closed on the Glock when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked next to his ear.
John froze. He was dead. A minute or two here or there made no difference. His current state of being didn’t take away from the fact that he was a dead man who just hadn’t stopped breathing yet.
“Teyla,” he said slowly, “you don’t want to do this.” Hell, just because he was dead didn’t mean he couldn’t have a few last words.
“How do you know what I want, John?” Teyla’s voice was calm.
“Because I know you. Let’s just talk this out.” John spared a glance over his shoulder. His wife’s face was impassive, but Teyla always did have the best poker face around.
“I think the time for talking has passed, John. I am sorry.”
John rolled over onto his back and held up his hands in a placating gesture, showing her that his hands were empty. “Don’t do this, Teyla. I know you, and I know you don’t want to do this.” I hope, he added silently. “You don’t want to kill me, but you think you don’t have any other options.”
Teyla raised an eyebrow but didn’t disagree. John took that as a good sign.
“I think I have an idea, a way we can both get out of this alive.” He smiled a little. “It’s crazy, but I think it just might work.”
Teyla stared at him for a long time. John could practically hear the last few seconds of his life ticking away.
Finally, she smiled and propped the shotgun against her shoulder. “What did you have in mind?”
Title: SGA AUs I'd Never Even Think of Writing: Mr. & Mrs. Smith
Category: AU, action/adventure, drama, a little humor
Characters: John, Teyla, and a lot of weapons
Rating: PG-13 (for a bad word or two)
4. Mr. and Mrs. Smith:
“Shit,” John said, as a vase on the side bar above him shattered, raining bits of blue porcelain all around him. He slid lower down against the side bar, fumbling in his pocket for the extra shotgun shells he’d stashed there. Another round of automatic fire turned the wall opposite John into piece-meal, plaster and dust filling the air.
He loaded a few shells into his shotgun and got to his knees. He peeked around the half wall that separated the dining room from the living room and kitchen. From the direction of the shots he’d guess that Teyla was parked somewhere just passed the kitchen island, maybe behind the fridge. He aimed and fired, putting a significant hole in the island and sending a spray of wood everywhere. He wasn’t going to kill her this way, but he could flush her out.
Another burst of bullets sent him ducking back again.
“Teyla!” he yelled. “Let’s talk about this.”
Her voice was calm as she answered: “There is nothing to talk about, John. We both have a job to do; only one of us will succeed.”
John shielded himself as a picture frame exploded and showered him with falling glass. Somehow, he didn’t imagine this was what the priest had in mind when he had them promise to have and to hold. Probably the phrase ‘till death do you part’ didn’t extend to contract killers. Their life spans could be significantly shorter; Teyla certainly wanted to shorten his. John thought marriage was hard enough without his boss instructing him to kill his own wife. He wondered if Teyla would agree. She was putting a little more gusto in her assignment than he thought was strictly necessary. He understood that a job had to be done, regardless of the costs, but she didn’t have to be so damn enthusiastic about the assignment.
“Come on, Teyla,” he called, “you don’t want to do this.”
There was no reply.
“Teyla? Honey?”
John took a chance and glanced over the half wall, and was thrown back as the butt of a shotgun connected with his face. He fell back, coming within an inch of ramming his head into the floor as Teyla lowered her weapon and took aim. From his spot on his back he scissored his legs out, sweeping Teyla’s feet out from under her. She landed hard but managed to roll into a crouched position. She threw her rifle out of his reach and pulled a knife out of a sheath in her boot. She grinned at him in a way that, if he weren’t sure she wanted to kill him, would’ve made him think he was getting some tonight. There was something feral and incredibly sexy about that smile, one he hadn’t seen in their last three years of marriage. Too bad he was getting his ass handed to him and was probably going to be made into a human pin-cushion soon.
John ducked away as Teyla swung the knife at him. She whirled with the momentum and hit him in the back. He grunted in pain as the hilt connected with what felt like a kidney. He kept his head and allowed himself to fall, rolling to come up to his feet again. He blocked a kick, but wasn’t quick enough to avoid an elbow to the temple as she came in close. He avoided a few swipes and managed to grab her knife hand, twisting it away from himself and trying to ram it on the nearest hard surface.
Teyla nearly kneed him in the stomach for his pains but the knife dropped out of her hand as it smacked against the side of the china cabinet. John managed to kick it under the cabinet before she could grab it. She made a noise that sounded like a growl, and grabbed John by the front of his t-shirt, shoving him back into the china cabinet. He heard the glass in the doors crack but, thankfully, remain otherwise intact. If he lived through this, picking glass out of his back would be one experience he wanted to do without.
She let go and lunged for her knife. John grabbed her by the leg and yanked back, sending both of them sprawling to the floor.
She kicked away from him and got to her feet as he did the same.
“This is going to happen, John,” Teyla said as they circled each other. “Why draw out the process any longer?”
“There are easier ways of ending a marriage,” John replied dryly. It wasn’t really the time for sarcasm but he couldn’t help himself.
Teyla smiled, obviously recognizing his tone. “But none of them will leave me with the house, the dog, and both bank accounts. Besides, what is it they say about the thrill of the chase?”
John maneuvered away as she spun and aimed a roundhouse kick at his head. He dodged it and threw a punch, which she ducked under and threw one of her own. He blocked it and said, “That’s about love, not murder.”
“Ask any cop: murder is a crime of passion.”
“But this isn’t murder, it’s business.”
She grinned again. “I am glad you are finally seeing it my way.”
John turned and made a break for it, vaulting over the half wall that separated the kitchen and dining room. Teyla was fast on his heels, but if he could reach his Glock, hidden in one of the kitchen cabinets, he might just make it out alive.
He dove for the cabinet next to the refrigerator, flung the door open, and his hand had just closed on the Glock when he heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun being cocked next to his ear.
John froze. He was dead. A minute or two here or there made no difference. His current state of being didn’t take away from the fact that he was a dead man who just hadn’t stopped breathing yet.
“Teyla,” he said slowly, “you don’t want to do this.” Hell, just because he was dead didn’t mean he couldn’t have a few last words.
“How do you know what I want, John?” Teyla’s voice was calm.
“Because I know you. Let’s just talk this out.” John spared a glance over his shoulder. His wife’s face was impassive, but Teyla always did have the best poker face around.
“I think the time for talking has passed, John. I am sorry.”
John rolled over onto his back and held up his hands in a placating gesture, showing her that his hands were empty. “Don’t do this, Teyla. I know you, and I know you don’t want to do this.” I hope, he added silently. “You don’t want to kill me, but you think you don’t have any other options.”
Teyla raised an eyebrow but didn’t disagree. John took that as a good sign.
“I think I have an idea, a way we can both get out of this alive.” He smiled a little. “It’s crazy, but I think it just might work.”
Teyla stared at him for a long time. John could practically hear the last few seconds of his life ticking away.
Finally, she smiled and propped the shotgun against her shoulder. “What did you have in mind?”