Fic: The Visit (General)
Title: The Visit
Author: dearjoanwallace
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Recipient: seramercury
Spoilers: none
Summary: John visits with someone from his past.
Author's Note: This fic takes place after "The Siege Pt 3"
John Sheppard walked along the pathway leading to Saints Memorial Hospital, clutching a handful of freshly picked dandelions. He monitored his steps with a contemplative gaze. He drew a deep breath as his hand connected with a revolving door.
“Do you need any help, sir?” a perky little blond chirped from behind the information desk.
“I’m all set, thanks,” John replied.
“All right,” the blond acknowledged, flashing him a friendly smile. He forced himself to return the favor. He dropped that smile and returned his sights to his feet the moment she looked back to her computer.
John marched to the elevator and took it to the fourth floor. He was striding by the nurse’s station when a short and graying nurse rose from the desk. “Sir!” she called out to him, a weary edge in her voice. “May I help you?”
John heaved a sigh. “I don’t need any help,” he insisted. He started heading for room 421 when the nurse grabbed his arm.
“Who is it you’re here to see?”
A lump formed in his throat. John barely choked out the name. “Mary Shep…” He closed his eyes. “I mean,” he coughed, “Mary Randall.”
The tension in the nurse’s face released, and she let go of John’s bicep. “Oh,” she said. “I was told she didn’t have any family, except…”
John winced. “By any chance, is he around?”
“He just stepped out to get himself breakfast.”
John nodded slowly, taking in the information.
“She’s just down that hallway,” the nurse offered, pointing down the corridor, “Fifth door on your left, room 421.”
“Thank you,” John replied with a steady gaze and a nod. The nurse patted him on the shoulder, and he headed for the room. The hallway floated in his periphery, like a memory coming to life in a dream. He reached the distantly familiar door. Pausing a moment, he collected his thoughts. He squeezed the flowers in his grasp before pushing open the door into room 421.
Inside the sterile white chamber lay a pale, jet-haired beauty amidst a sea of machinery, her eyes closed. Tubes trailed from life support apparatuses - intravenous drips, dialyzer - and snaked across her pillow and down her bed to her arms. Her respirator crossed her slender torso as one thick silicone tube, connecting with smaller ones just above her chin and leading to her nose and mouth. Thick fabric tape held the pieces in place.
Tears welled in John’s eyes. The lump in his throat was returning too. He blinked hard and swallowed harder. “Hello, Mary,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and looked away. His bleary eyes focused next on the tuft of wildflowers in his hand. Raising them up, he said, “I brought you some dandelions.” A smirk stole across his face. “Remember when we were little, and you used to pick them from the front yard? I love how you would smell them until your nose turned yellow and how you would put them in your hair.” His lips stung at the memory of finding the flowers on the floor later, wilted and dying and folding back in on themselves. In fact, more than his lips hurt.
John scanned the room and locked onto a plastic cup. He snatched it, filled it with water from the bathroom sink, and put the flowers inside. He debated with himself as to whether he should put them by the window in direct sunlight or on the shaded bedside table. Why had he brought dandelions?
John settled for the bedside table and dropped himself into the chair beside it with a heavy sigh. He looked upon Mary’s pallid, motionless face. “So,” he spoke in a deep, somber voice, “It’s been a while. In fact, it’s been a year. I trust Derrick has been taking good care of you. In fact, I know that he is. He may have never liked me very much, but he has always been good to you.”
Pausing, John observed the beeping and the puffing of the respirator as the machine breathed for Mary. A chill swept across him. “I, um…” His eyes shifting side to side as he scanned his mind as he scrambled for the words to say. “Why don’t I tell you what I’ve been up to?” he offered. He raised his head and squared his shoulders. “A lot has happened this year, Mary. I wish I could tell you the half of it. I told you I took a new assignment. It’s nothing like Antarctica - you know how much I liked being stationed there - but I think I’m going to like this place better.
“I’m making new friends,” John continued. He ran a hand through his hair and looked to the floor. “You know better than anyone else how me and relationships go, but I’m not getting too close to any of them. I won’t.” His breath hitched in his throat. “I just can’t deal with anyone else…”
He drew a hand over his eyes and fought back the tears that threatened to spill. With a thumb and forefinger, he swept at the moisture that had prevailed. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose until the tears subsided.
Once he was in the clear, he took her chorded hand in his and squeezed it. “I wish I could take you with me. We need someone like you on the team. You would love Teyla, and you’d definitely give Rodney a run for his money. I think you’d get along with Elizabeth the best. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of you. I never thought I’d meet anyone else who’s so gentle and compassionate, and yet so strong…”
His voice trailed off as his gaze wandered out the window and connected with a figure heading for the front door. “Crap,” he murmured. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Believe it or not, where I’m stationed now is farther away than Antarctica. But I will return.”
He gave her hand another pulse before letting go. He stood, and leaning into her, their foreheads touched. He shut his eyes for that moment. As he opened them, he stepped back. With that, he ducked out of her room, catching a glimpse of the already withering dandelions on his way out the door.
Author: dearjoanwallace
Pairing: none
Rating: PG
Recipient: seramercury
Spoilers: none
Summary: John visits with someone from his past.
Author's Note: This fic takes place after "The Siege Pt 3"
John Sheppard walked along the pathway leading to Saints Memorial Hospital, clutching a handful of freshly picked dandelions. He monitored his steps with a contemplative gaze. He drew a deep breath as his hand connected with a revolving door.
“Do you need any help, sir?” a perky little blond chirped from behind the information desk.
“I’m all set, thanks,” John replied.
“All right,” the blond acknowledged, flashing him a friendly smile. He forced himself to return the favor. He dropped that smile and returned his sights to his feet the moment she looked back to her computer.
John marched to the elevator and took it to the fourth floor. He was striding by the nurse’s station when a short and graying nurse rose from the desk. “Sir!” she called out to him, a weary edge in her voice. “May I help you?”
John heaved a sigh. “I don’t need any help,” he insisted. He started heading for room 421 when the nurse grabbed his arm.
“Who is it you’re here to see?”
A lump formed in his throat. John barely choked out the name. “Mary Shep…” He closed his eyes. “I mean,” he coughed, “Mary Randall.”
The tension in the nurse’s face released, and she let go of John’s bicep. “Oh,” she said. “I was told she didn’t have any family, except…”
John winced. “By any chance, is he around?”
“He just stepped out to get himself breakfast.”
John nodded slowly, taking in the information.
“She’s just down that hallway,” the nurse offered, pointing down the corridor, “Fifth door on your left, room 421.”
“Thank you,” John replied with a steady gaze and a nod. The nurse patted him on the shoulder, and he headed for the room. The hallway floated in his periphery, like a memory coming to life in a dream. He reached the distantly familiar door. Pausing a moment, he collected his thoughts. He squeezed the flowers in his grasp before pushing open the door into room 421.
Inside the sterile white chamber lay a pale, jet-haired beauty amidst a sea of machinery, her eyes closed. Tubes trailed from life support apparatuses - intravenous drips, dialyzer - and snaked across her pillow and down her bed to her arms. Her respirator crossed her slender torso as one thick silicone tube, connecting with smaller ones just above her chin and leading to her nose and mouth. Thick fabric tape held the pieces in place.
Tears welled in John’s eyes. The lump in his throat was returning too. He blinked hard and swallowed harder. “Hello, Mary,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and looked away. His bleary eyes focused next on the tuft of wildflowers in his hand. Raising them up, he said, “I brought you some dandelions.” A smirk stole across his face. “Remember when we were little, and you used to pick them from the front yard? I love how you would smell them until your nose turned yellow and how you would put them in your hair.” His lips stung at the memory of finding the flowers on the floor later, wilted and dying and folding back in on themselves. In fact, more than his lips hurt.
John scanned the room and locked onto a plastic cup. He snatched it, filled it with water from the bathroom sink, and put the flowers inside. He debated with himself as to whether he should put them by the window in direct sunlight or on the shaded bedside table. Why had he brought dandelions?
John settled for the bedside table and dropped himself into the chair beside it with a heavy sigh. He looked upon Mary’s pallid, motionless face. “So,” he spoke in a deep, somber voice, “It’s been a while. In fact, it’s been a year. I trust Derrick has been taking good care of you. In fact, I know that he is. He may have never liked me very much, but he has always been good to you.”
Pausing, John observed the beeping and the puffing of the respirator as the machine breathed for Mary. A chill swept across him. “I, um…” His eyes shifting side to side as he scanned his mind as he scrambled for the words to say. “Why don’t I tell you what I’ve been up to?” he offered. He raised his head and squared his shoulders. “A lot has happened this year, Mary. I wish I could tell you the half of it. I told you I took a new assignment. It’s nothing like Antarctica - you know how much I liked being stationed there - but I think I’m going to like this place better.
“I’m making new friends,” John continued. He ran a hand through his hair and looked to the floor. “You know better than anyone else how me and relationships go, but I’m not getting too close to any of them. I won’t.” His breath hitched in his throat. “I just can’t deal with anyone else…”
He drew a hand over his eyes and fought back the tears that threatened to spill. With a thumb and forefinger, he swept at the moisture that had prevailed. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose until the tears subsided.
Once he was in the clear, he took her chorded hand in his and squeezed it. “I wish I could take you with me. We need someone like you on the team. You would love Teyla, and you’d definitely give Rodney a run for his money. I think you’d get along with Elizabeth the best. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of you. I never thought I’d meet anyone else who’s so gentle and compassionate, and yet so strong…”
His voice trailed off as his gaze wandered out the window and connected with a figure heading for the front door. “Crap,” he murmured. “Listen, I’ve got to go. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Believe it or not, where I’m stationed now is farther away than Antarctica. But I will return.”
He gave her hand another pulse before letting go. He stood, and leaning into her, their foreheads touched. He shut his eyes for that moment. As he opened them, he stepped back. With that, he ducked out of her room, catching a glimpse of the already withering dandelions on his way out the door.