fic: Seeking, Not Finding, PG-13
TITLE: Seeking, Not Finding
SUMMARY: John roams through the base now, restless; seeking something that he'll recognise when he finds it.
CATEGORY: Angst, Episode epilogue.
SPOILERS: 2.16 - The Long Goodbye
CHALLENG: John&Teyla fanfic100, prompt #020 Colourless (table is here)
NOTES: This didn't quite turn out the way I wanted it to turn out. It was supposed to end happy (ish) and then took a sharp left turn into angst.
Seeking, Not Finding
Somehow, it's become a bit of a joke among the base.
The day Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir turned 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' - without the mind-blowing sex, of course.
John almost wishes he'd had the mind-blowing sex. Because sex? Almost always a good thing. Then again, sex would mean he and Elizabeth would have even more trouble looking each other in the eye than they already are - and that was after one kiss that wasn't even them.
John roams through the base now, restless; seeking something that he'll recognise when he finds it. Around him, everything feels colourless and bland, as though the incident drained him of energy and life. Even the prospect of going to Rodney's lab and fiddling with the technology holds no attraction right now.
As he walks by the marines who stand watch at the corridor intersections, he acknowledges their salutes with a brief nod. A week ago, they would have handed their weapons over to him without a qualm. Today, their fingers tighten around their weapons and their eyes are watchful.
He can't blame them. He wishes he could.
Instead, he's left with the lingering feeling that what Phoebus really stole from both him and Elizabeth was trust - the trust of their friends, the trust of their colleagues, their trust of each other.
As it is, Ronon looks at him with the hard, flat eyes of someone who's not going to be deceived again. Never mind that it wasn't John doing the betraying - the memory that lingers in Ronon is John's face and John's voice, even if the hands manipulating the strings were Thalen's.
John hasn't even tried speaking to Teyla yet.
She doesn't seem to want to speak with him.
He hopes that it's just guilt on her part for being willing to shoot him.
It isn't that he meant the words. It wasn't even him saying them. But it isn't that he didn't mean them, either. Thalen used whatever cards he had to try to keep her from killing him - including things that John took great care not to think about. Things like that damned kiss in the gym while he was under the influence of the retrovirus, and the way Teyla carefully made sure they ignored it - a pink elephant that leaped, fully-fledged into the room between them.
Maybe it's just ego, maybe it's something else, but John would have liked her to be just a little embarrassed about it. Not so much that she has to force herself to look him in the eye the way Elizabeth does, but enough to show that she felt...something.
Something more than friendly tolerance, anyway.
He starts down the corridor to the rec room, hearing the echoing sounds of a movie being played at a volume that goes beyond 'Maximum' and into 'Reverberate'. Good thing the Ancients built Atlantis as solid as alien cities come.
There's gunfire, laughter, and the scent of popcorn coming from the room, and John hastens his steps, hoping for company and a chance to move past what happened the other day. A little time spent with his people - the people of Atlantis.
He's at the door before he realises which movie they're watching, and one step in before they realise he's there.
Over a dozen heads turn to face John and eyes widen in shock then drop to the floor in embarrassment as Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie shoot up the 'Home Made' store. Someone in the room swears, a single blunt expletive drowned in the sound of bullets ricocheting off ceramic and plastic.
A brief scrabble for the remote ensues, but John hardly notices.
He's fighting his own private war right now, trying to dodge bullets of shame and memory and understanding.
They're mostly scientific personnel, with a handful of off-duty military, and one Athosian woman half-leaning into Major Lorne's side with an expression that was laughing and is now concerned. Over her shoulder, Lorne's face is carved out of stone - the open features went neutral the instant he realised it was his commanding officer at the door.
John looks them all over, noting names and faces, ranks and specialties, seeing who will meet his eye and who won't, but he doesn't say a word. He just turns on his heel and keeps walking.
He's not sure what he feels right now. There isn't quite a name for the cacophony of thoughts and feelings that are swirling through his head, from the angry mortification of 'We should confiscate that damned movie,' to the rib-squeezing ache of 'I guess that's one more reason why she doesn't want to speak about it .'
"Colonel!"
Hope rises for a moment before he quashes it. She uses his name more often now, but he's still a rank to her most of the time. Which is the way it should be.
It's just not the way he wishes it was.
John turns as she jogs up to him. "Teyla." His voice is even and courteous, the same as always.
"Colonel," she says. "I apologise. The movie has been mentioned in the past few days and I was curious so I asked Mark...and then others came in--"
"It's okay," John says, interrupting her before she can continue. There's a twinge in his palms as she calls the Major by his name, and his fingers twitch slightly. "I get that you'd be curious."
Her eyes fix on him in that way that disconcerts him, seeing more than he wants seen. "It was not like that, though," she says, "not like the movie."
And Teyla should know.
"Oh, I don't know," he says lightly. "Between us we shot Atlantis up pretty good." There's no hiding his bitterness. Good men and women were injured while he and Elizabeth - Thalen and Phoebus - carried out their own private war. Friends were used and discarded, loyalties stretched to breaking point, and secrets used as weapons.
But John isn't going to think about that - not given how she was nestled into the Major's side two minutes ago.
"Thalen was no more you than Phoebus was Elizabeth," she reminds him. "What he said and did was not you."
It's the perfect opening. He could broach the topic that he wants to see laid to rest; to at least acknowledge the presence of the pink elephant, just once, before returning to ignoring it.
He could.
John doesn't.
"Tell that to Ronon," he says bitingly.
Teyla winces, but her voice is steady as she replies, "Ronon is still recovering from his operation. The pain is a reminder that he is fallible."
What she doesn't say, but which John hears all the same, is that no man likes being reminded of his own errors. And Ronon has his pride.
John has his pride, too. "Would you have shot me?"
She pauses and he already knows the answer. "Yes." For two-thirds of the base, she would have sacrificed him - she would have sacrificed anyone. And John would have done the same if their positions were reversed. "Did you believe that I would?"
At that moment, staring his death in the face, John had only his rage and despair at Thalen, and the thought that the last thing he'd see would be Teyla pointing the weapon at him - and the last thing he'd hear would be Phoebus' laughter in Elizabeth's voice.
"I knew you would," he said. "But there's a difference between knowing and really knowing." John trails off. "It doesn't matter now." He sticks his hands in his pockets and jerks his head back at the rec room. "You should finish the movie. It's not bad as movies go."
Teyla nods and turns, and although his expression doesn't change, he watches her go and hates that she can leave him behind so easily - that he's not more than a commanding officer and friend.
Two steps away, she halts and turns back. "John. Did Thalen speak the truth when he said--" She breaks off. Her skin is usually a smooth tan colour, now there are ruddy hints in the hollows of her cheeks. For the first time that he remembers, Teyla looks really lost - without a plan, without a solution, without an alternative way out of the situation. "When he said you cared...?"
Her voice trails off into silence and John is left with a choice.
Truth or lie?
"It doesn't change anything," he says at last. It's an exit that allows them both to leave gracefully, without the bitterness of hope denied, the emptiness of closed doors, or the embarrassment of rejecting an unwanted interest. "You're still one of my team. That's all that matters."
And maybe she's a little disappointed - either with his answer or with his prevarication - because she hesitates before she nods. But her nod is, at least, easy. "Thank you, John."
John waits until her footsteps have vanished down the hall and the heavy chatter of on-screen shooting begins before he moves on.
He's still looking for something.
But now he knows he won't be finding it anytime soon.
- fin -
SUMMARY: John roams through the base now, restless; seeking something that he'll recognise when he finds it.
CATEGORY: Angst, Episode epilogue.
SPOILERS: 2.16 - The Long Goodbye
CHALLENG: John&Teyla fanfic100, prompt #020 Colourless (table is here)
NOTES: This didn't quite turn out the way I wanted it to turn out. It was supposed to end happy (ish) and then took a sharp left turn into angst.
Seeking, Not Finding
Somehow, it's become a bit of a joke among the base.
The day Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir turned 'Mr. and Mrs. Smith' - without the mind-blowing sex, of course.
John almost wishes he'd had the mind-blowing sex. Because sex? Almost always a good thing. Then again, sex would mean he and Elizabeth would have even more trouble looking each other in the eye than they already are - and that was after one kiss that wasn't even them.
John roams through the base now, restless; seeking something that he'll recognise when he finds it. Around him, everything feels colourless and bland, as though the incident drained him of energy and life. Even the prospect of going to Rodney's lab and fiddling with the technology holds no attraction right now.
As he walks by the marines who stand watch at the corridor intersections, he acknowledges their salutes with a brief nod. A week ago, they would have handed their weapons over to him without a qualm. Today, their fingers tighten around their weapons and their eyes are watchful.
He can't blame them. He wishes he could.
Instead, he's left with the lingering feeling that what Phoebus really stole from both him and Elizabeth was trust - the trust of their friends, the trust of their colleagues, their trust of each other.
As it is, Ronon looks at him with the hard, flat eyes of someone who's not going to be deceived again. Never mind that it wasn't John doing the betraying - the memory that lingers in Ronon is John's face and John's voice, even if the hands manipulating the strings were Thalen's.
John hasn't even tried speaking to Teyla yet.
She doesn't seem to want to speak with him.
He hopes that it's just guilt on her part for being willing to shoot him.
It isn't that he meant the words. It wasn't even him saying them. But it isn't that he didn't mean them, either. Thalen used whatever cards he had to try to keep her from killing him - including things that John took great care not to think about. Things like that damned kiss in the gym while he was under the influence of the retrovirus, and the way Teyla carefully made sure they ignored it - a pink elephant that leaped, fully-fledged into the room between them.
Maybe it's just ego, maybe it's something else, but John would have liked her to be just a little embarrassed about it. Not so much that she has to force herself to look him in the eye the way Elizabeth does, but enough to show that she felt...something.
Something more than friendly tolerance, anyway.
He starts down the corridor to the rec room, hearing the echoing sounds of a movie being played at a volume that goes beyond 'Maximum' and into 'Reverberate'. Good thing the Ancients built Atlantis as solid as alien cities come.
There's gunfire, laughter, and the scent of popcorn coming from the room, and John hastens his steps, hoping for company and a chance to move past what happened the other day. A little time spent with his people - the people of Atlantis.
He's at the door before he realises which movie they're watching, and one step in before they realise he's there.
Over a dozen heads turn to face John and eyes widen in shock then drop to the floor in embarrassment as Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie shoot up the 'Home Made' store. Someone in the room swears, a single blunt expletive drowned in the sound of bullets ricocheting off ceramic and plastic.
A brief scrabble for the remote ensues, but John hardly notices.
He's fighting his own private war right now, trying to dodge bullets of shame and memory and understanding.
They're mostly scientific personnel, with a handful of off-duty military, and one Athosian woman half-leaning into Major Lorne's side with an expression that was laughing and is now concerned. Over her shoulder, Lorne's face is carved out of stone - the open features went neutral the instant he realised it was his commanding officer at the door.
John looks them all over, noting names and faces, ranks and specialties, seeing who will meet his eye and who won't, but he doesn't say a word. He just turns on his heel and keeps walking.
He's not sure what he feels right now. There isn't quite a name for the cacophony of thoughts and feelings that are swirling through his head, from the angry mortification of 'We should confiscate that damned movie,' to the rib-squeezing ache of 'I guess that's one more reason why she doesn't want to speak about it .'
"Colonel!"
Hope rises for a moment before he quashes it. She uses his name more often now, but he's still a rank to her most of the time. Which is the way it should be.
It's just not the way he wishes it was.
John turns as she jogs up to him. "Teyla." His voice is even and courteous, the same as always.
"Colonel," she says. "I apologise. The movie has been mentioned in the past few days and I was curious so I asked Mark...and then others came in--"
"It's okay," John says, interrupting her before she can continue. There's a twinge in his palms as she calls the Major by his name, and his fingers twitch slightly. "I get that you'd be curious."
Her eyes fix on him in that way that disconcerts him, seeing more than he wants seen. "It was not like that, though," she says, "not like the movie."
And Teyla should know.
"Oh, I don't know," he says lightly. "Between us we shot Atlantis up pretty good." There's no hiding his bitterness. Good men and women were injured while he and Elizabeth - Thalen and Phoebus - carried out their own private war. Friends were used and discarded, loyalties stretched to breaking point, and secrets used as weapons.
But John isn't going to think about that - not given how she was nestled into the Major's side two minutes ago.
"Thalen was no more you than Phoebus was Elizabeth," she reminds him. "What he said and did was not you."
It's the perfect opening. He could broach the topic that he wants to see laid to rest; to at least acknowledge the presence of the pink elephant, just once, before returning to ignoring it.
He could.
John doesn't.
"Tell that to Ronon," he says bitingly.
Teyla winces, but her voice is steady as she replies, "Ronon is still recovering from his operation. The pain is a reminder that he is fallible."
What she doesn't say, but which John hears all the same, is that no man likes being reminded of his own errors. And Ronon has his pride.
John has his pride, too. "Would you have shot me?"
She pauses and he already knows the answer. "Yes." For two-thirds of the base, she would have sacrificed him - she would have sacrificed anyone. And John would have done the same if their positions were reversed. "Did you believe that I would?"
At that moment, staring his death in the face, John had only his rage and despair at Thalen, and the thought that the last thing he'd see would be Teyla pointing the weapon at him - and the last thing he'd hear would be Phoebus' laughter in Elizabeth's voice.
"I knew you would," he said. "But there's a difference between knowing and really knowing." John trails off. "It doesn't matter now." He sticks his hands in his pockets and jerks his head back at the rec room. "You should finish the movie. It's not bad as movies go."
Teyla nods and turns, and although his expression doesn't change, he watches her go and hates that she can leave him behind so easily - that he's not more than a commanding officer and friend.
Two steps away, she halts and turns back. "John. Did Thalen speak the truth when he said--" She breaks off. Her skin is usually a smooth tan colour, now there are ruddy hints in the hollows of her cheeks. For the first time that he remembers, Teyla looks really lost - without a plan, without a solution, without an alternative way out of the situation. "When he said you cared...?"
Her voice trails off into silence and John is left with a choice.
Truth or lie?
"It doesn't change anything," he says at last. It's an exit that allows them both to leave gracefully, without the bitterness of hope denied, the emptiness of closed doors, or the embarrassment of rejecting an unwanted interest. "You're still one of my team. That's all that matters."
And maybe she's a little disappointed - either with his answer or with his prevarication - because she hesitates before she nods. But her nod is, at least, easy. "Thank you, John."
John waits until her footsteps have vanished down the hall and the heavy chatter of on-screen shooting begins before he moves on.
He's still looking for something.
But now he knows he won't be finding it anytime soon.
- fin -