No Good At Being Alone
PG, 355 words. Part of The Goddamned Genderswap, tag for The Last Man.
John's mouth tastes of sand and his fingers are shaking, but he slams the symbols on the DHD, spelling out home. His thoughts are racing. He thinks about Teyla, at the mercy of that son of a bitch, her child stolen for a pawn in his sick game. He thinks about Meredith, the old Meredith, with her long gray hair and her rumpled clothing and her sad, sad eyes.
He has to save them.
He pounds down the stairs and right through the gate, skidding to a stop on the other side, throwing his hands up in self-defense. He's about to speak, but the first thing he sees is Meredith, and his words all dry up. For a moment, he can see a flash of the woman she'll never be, the weariness hanging on her; but then she's moving towards him, her eyes lighting up.
Sam tries to hold her back, saying something quiet and urgent to her, but Meredith shoves past him. "I don't give a fuck if he is a clone!" she shouts, pushing the guards out of her way. "I'll keep him anyway!"
He moves and she moves and they're crashing into one another, kissing wildly, desperate in their need to touch, for proof. Mer is babbling in between kisses, saying missed you and please don't, not ever again, and John's pretty sure they're been embarrassing but he doesn't even care. He just keeps holding her, kissing her, tracking his thumb over the place on her bicep where her tattoo is, his mark on her.
It's hell to pull away from her, but he finally manages to, somehow, keeping her at arm's length but no further. "How long have I been gone?"
She blinks, looking vaguely startled. "Twelve days, eight hours, and, y'know," she waves her arm indistinctly, "change."
"Later, okay?" he says, wiping the tears from her face. "Believe me, we'll have a later, but right now, we're kind of on the clock."
"What are you talking about?" Sam breaks in.
"I know where Teyla is," he says. He gives Meredith one last kiss, the promise of something more.
John's mouth tastes of sand and his fingers are shaking, but he slams the symbols on the DHD, spelling out home. His thoughts are racing. He thinks about Teyla, at the mercy of that son of a bitch, her child stolen for a pawn in his sick game. He thinks about Meredith, the old Meredith, with her long gray hair and her rumpled clothing and her sad, sad eyes.
He has to save them.
He pounds down the stairs and right through the gate, skidding to a stop on the other side, throwing his hands up in self-defense. He's about to speak, but the first thing he sees is Meredith, and his words all dry up. For a moment, he can see a flash of the woman she'll never be, the weariness hanging on her; but then she's moving towards him, her eyes lighting up.
Sam tries to hold her back, saying something quiet and urgent to her, but Meredith shoves past him. "I don't give a fuck if he is a clone!" she shouts, pushing the guards out of her way. "I'll keep him anyway!"
He moves and she moves and they're crashing into one another, kissing wildly, desperate in their need to touch, for proof. Mer is babbling in between kisses, saying missed you and please don't, not ever again, and John's pretty sure they're been embarrassing but he doesn't even care. He just keeps holding her, kissing her, tracking his thumb over the place on her bicep where her tattoo is, his mark on her.
It's hell to pull away from her, but he finally manages to, somehow, keeping her at arm's length but no further. "How long have I been gone?"
She blinks, looking vaguely startled. "Twelve days, eight hours, and, y'know," she waves her arm indistinctly, "change."
"Later, okay?" he says, wiping the tears from her face. "Believe me, we'll have a later, but right now, we're kind of on the clock."
"What are you talking about?" Sam breaks in.
"I know where Teyla is," he says. He gives Meredith one last kiss, the promise of something more.