Just Lost One, Gunning for Eternity
Author's Pre-Story Note: Not exactly sure how the logistics work, but hey; it's fic. And sounds cuter than it really is.
Note II: A reminder that separate pieces are not in the same AU; thus 'Ten' is not in the same universe as 'Nine', and so forth.
Note III: Good heavens, I really haven't done this in a while, have I? Must finish this up, so I feel like I have actually accomplished something.
Nine Alternate Universes and One Standard Sparky Story
Number 9
One Wish Left
Second Strike
Thrice Around
Five Chances
On the Seventh Day
Eight-Petaled Flowers
Title: Nine Lives
AU: Raining on Sunday
Rating: PG
Pairing: Sparky, SJ
Summary: A chance encounter, a downpour, and a kitten.
The ninth time he saves someone from death while off-duty, he’s walking along the flooding streets and trying to see through the haze of rain that’s been pounding the city for two days. The boots he’s wearing are soaked thanks to the inches of water covering the cement, and the rain slicker isn’t doing much to help either. With the advent of night everyone has fled to their drier homes, leaving him the only traveler down Fifth and Kepler… or so he thinks.
Beams of light split the drizzling darkness, illuminating the thick streams of water flowing into gutters that will soon be overwhelmed. With a muted roar the sports car fords the intersection, gunning through the yellow light; John pays the reckless driver little heed but glances up to make the most of the headlights scouring his path. Another shape separates itself from the darkness as the car swings back into its correct lane, which would not be a problem- except that instead of being safely on the sidewalk, this shape is in the middle of the street.
Acting without thought, Sheppard pushes off the sidewalk and splashes through the growing water, oblivious to the fact that what little clothing and skin used to be dry is no longer so. Only the increasing proximity of the sports car and the frozen woman crouching in the road matter now, because the driver hasn’t seen her and he knows what will come next if some deity doesn’t intervene.
His arms wrap around her and pull back, dragging her out of harm’s way as the car flashes by, a yellow streak in the thick rain. Over the rushing water and fading growl of the engine he thinks he hears a muffled protest, but he doesn’t stop until they are back on the sidewalk and taking shelter under a store overhang.
“Are you okay?” Words sharp with the adrenaline pounding through his veins, he takes deeps breaths and slowly lets her go, studying her pale face, the straggled strands of wet, dark hair. Had she not noticed the car heading directly for her?
“Yes, thanks to you.” Her voice is shaky, but she flashes him a grateful smile that is stunning even through the downpour. It’s her voice that betrays her, the minute inflections she places on some syllables and the careful weight she seems to give even such a normal response.
“Elizabeth… Weir, right?” She looks surprised, but he hasn’t forgotten the sound of her voice. The party had been a little over half a year ago, a casual get-together for Halloween that he had been invited to as a friend of a friend visiting the city; the one thing he remembers most clearly is watching her walk through the door and not being able to look away for the rest of the night. In fact, every eye in the room had been riveted on her: the male ones with a veneer of lust, and the female ones with envy.
“John, pick your jaw up off the floor and go talk to her, f’r Christ’s sake.” O’Neill has an amused expression on his face that says this is the normal reaction in Elizabeth’s presence- made all the funnier because she is all the way across the room.
He glances at the other man and takes a swing of his beer, trying to keep his gaze from wandering back to the stunning woman currently chatting away with a witch and a Klingon.
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow, sir.”
“Drop the ‘sir’, Sheppard; we’re not on duty- and while we’re on that topic, did ya have to wear your dress blues?”
“It was the only thing I brought, beside civvies.” The Major replies, eyeing O’Neill’s own costume; the crown is perched precariously on his gray head, his purple tunic is a bit ruffled, and John thinks he can see a hint of lipstick on his cheek. “No Simpsons?”
“Carter said she’d lock me out of the house and burn my DVDs if I came as Homer.”
“Huh. Well, sir, I’m going to go get another drink.”
“Talk to the woman, would you? She’d probably appreciate some intelligent conversation that she can understand.” Sheppard follows O’Neill’s nod to the two Einsteins currently babbling at Elizabeth, and smiles.
But when she passes by him, pulled by a Dorothy towards the refreshments, he doesn’t try to catch her laughing gaze.
“Yes…” There’s a wary note in her voice that he can’t blame her for. “And you are?”
“John. Sheppard,” he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Air Force Major. I was at Heightmeyer’s Halloween party.” There’s a moment when he sees the connection being made and a barely visible tension eases in her hunched shoulders.
“Ah; Jack’s guest. Nice to meet you, then.”
“Could I ask why you were-“
“In the middle of the street?” She opens up the thick parka she has been holding closed and lifts out a scraggly, wet, and definitely unhappy kitten. It blinks huge blue eyes at John, who stares back. “Because this one’s owners left him in a cardboard box, and my meeting didn’t end soon enough for me to get here and stop him from floating out.” Her chin jerks in the direction of the street. “That’s why.”
Sheppard looks and sees a pulpy mass that might have been a box at some point, drifting on the water.
“That’s a good reason.” He says, finally. She gives him a tight smile, completely different from the one of just a moment ago, and tucks the tabby against her body. It’s then that he notices how soaked they are, and the lack of a car he might assume is hers. Her next shiver confirms his suspicion.
“You walked through this weather?”
“It’s what you’re doing now,” she points out, water still trickling down her face.
“Yeah, but I only live a block away,” he replies.
“My rental car broke down, and there weren’t any cabs around. If I had come a few minutes later…” Elizabeth trails off into silence as they both imagine what could have happened to the scrawny kitten.
“Cold?” Dumb question; John berates himself mentally as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Of course she’s cold. Her flash of a smile tells him that she is quite aware of the fact that he’s as drenched as she is.
“I’m okay.”
“All right. But the cat looks cold.” As if to support that statement, a pitiful wail rises from the folds of her jacket. They grin at each other, and he makes a snap decision. “You could come up to my place.”
When she glances up, eyes narrowing with only the slightest hint of suspicion, he shrugs a shoulder in a placating gesture and grins again when the kitten peeps over her collar to peer at him. “Just for a cup of hot chocolate, tell me all those stories you’ve been threatening to blackmail O’Neill with, get warm before I drive you to your place; nothing, really. Honest.”
“You don’t have to-”
“You don’t know my friends. If they ever found out that I let a beautiful woman slosh her way home in the dark…” His mock terror prompts a smile, and she gives in when the tabby begins trembling.
“What’s his name?” John asks, as they start walking.
“Mm. Haven’t picked one yet. What’s so amusing?”
“Just- I have this friend, Aiden, who’d probably call him “Survivor” or “Water Cat”. I’ve forbidden him from naming anything, but that doesn’t keep him from trying.”
And later, when the as-of-yet-unnamed kitten is clambering about his apartment in front of the heater and getting tangled in the blankets, they’re sitting on the floor and laughing like old friends as their hot chocolate slowly cools and their wet clothes dry.