Reflection
on
a broken mirror
Author: wanderingsmith
Oct 2008
Summary: John sees something he never wants to see again - UST
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me
for this.
AN: started this back in August... many thanks to chiarahhue,
anuna_81 and n7cdrshepard for all their varied help and encouragement
getting this satisfactory! :D
..surely in your eyes is where all our honor is kept. - Lois
McMasters
Bujold, A civil campaign
You've won yourself a twisted poor modern knight, to wear your favour
on his sleeve. But it's a twisted poor world we were both born into.
That rejects us without mercy and ejects us without consultation. At
least I won't just tilt at windmills for you. I'll send in sappers to
mine the twirling suckers, and blast them into the sky... - Lois
McMasters Bujold, Borders of infinity
You pour out honour like a fountain, all around you - Lois McMasters
Bujold, Shards of honour
"..So you believe them about this terrorist attack?" Elizabeth watched
her just-returned lead team, wondering why there was an odd 'vibe'
coming from them. Feeling her tension focus in and climb with how
pale and shocky John seemed, even though they all insisted, and Carson
confirmed, that they hadn't been injured.
"Yeah," John answered quietly, "They didn't ask for help, didn't deny
there were dissidents. I think they were honestly trying to keep us
safe when they hustled us out."
Elizabeth could see Teyla shooting him careful mothering looks and was
even more disturbed that he wasn't meeting anyone's eyes; not even
hers. "Alright. So I guess we'll wait for them to contact us. Unless
there's anything else?" Not that she expected whatever was going on to
be brought up at this point...
General head shakes lead to everyone getting up and Elizabeth was as
reassured as she was further worried when John automatically followed
her to her office. He didn't say anything as he slouched into his usual
chair though, not even looking up at her as she sat down. It just
wasn't like him to be so still -let along so quiet-, and she felt
uncalled-for dread build in her.
She knew that he wasn't the happy-go-lucky pilot he sometimes
remembered to pretend to be, knew that he struggled with the things
they'd had to do; choices and sacrifices that had no 'good'
answers. Choosing lesser evils left lasting scars in the soul, in
one's sense of self; and self-worth.
That he managed to keep the ache hidden day-to-day called on her to
honour his strength by allowing herself to take the façade at
face value; or seem to. And if in giving that respect she was
herself put under strain.. so must it be. But that just made it
wrench even deeper when she saw him like this. She just couldn't,
*wouldn't*, leave him to twist in pain alone.
So she swallowed the worry and spoke quietly, careful not to make light
of his need to present the world with reliable firmness, but knowing
that she was his friend, and that if he had allowed himself to stay
with her rather than make her hunt him down, then almost certainly he
*did* want to talk, at least at some level, "John? Is something wrong?"
He jerked slightly; and *that* wasn't like him either, to be so deeply
lost in his thoughts so quickly. Even when he looked up, he didn't
focus on her, just looked in her general direction and stuttered, "Err.
No.."
"You look.. shell-shocked." she frowned worriedly and let the unspoken
question hang before him; let her worry for him hang before him.
They'd wordlessly developed this relationship to work with their
feelings mostly hidden, with only a baseline allowed through -enough to
live on, enough to not explode or shrivel up-, but not so much that the
distance between them became a strain. Well, not too often,
anyway.
John winced, throwing one apologetic look toward her before looking
away again. She'd feel worse for the slight, almost unconscious,
emotional blackmail of letting her feelings show if he hadn't used the
same on *her* in the past. If she didn't know as well as he did
that they weren't perfect, and needed, sometimes, to let out some of
the things that they buried daily.
Showing he knew, had probably known all along, that he needed to talk
about whatever had affected him, he started slowly; his quiet making it
very hard for her not to reach out to him.
"You know how they used to say that somewhere in the world there was
someone who looked just like you?" When his flow seemed ready to peter
out, she nodded encouragingly and he picked up again with patently
faked cheer, "And they just meant Earth! With two galaxies of planets
now..."
His twitching hands wanted to tell more of the story, but his voice
faded again, so Elizabeth tried to guess what could have him so thrown,
"Did you meet your twin?" That could certainly be disturbing if the
other had a life you either envied or hated...
John shook his head, speaking in a jerky monotone now, "Our guide. When
he was getting us out of the town after the explosions. We found.. his
wife. Dead." The last word was a whisper as he looked up, focusing
haunted eyes on her, seeming to look at every inch of her face as she
froze with a premonitory chill. Fear, sorrow and pain still had threads
in the quiet of his voice when he finally finished the explanation.
"For a second... I was sure it was you." This time she wasn't surprised
when he looked away; back to sitting too still.
Elizabeth got up slowly, stiff with sympathetic pain; she knew enough
of what he was feeling, even without seeing it in his expression.
She came around to stand next to him, hesitatingly squeezing his
shoulder, fighting the need to offer more.. and not sure what she could
*say*. John glanced up, still not meeting her eyes as he twitched under
her touch, tense, trying to hold himself unmoving even as his head
twitched toward her hand before jerking back upright, "I'll be fine.
Just.. a little shook up."
That simple statement -his willingness to *speak* it- inherently gave
away more feelings than... Unable to think of a way to help him within
the bounds of their relationship, Elizabeth just nodded, understanding
perfectly why he was shaken; and why he'd followed her. "Why
don't we go over your personnel evaluations?"
John smiled bleakly at his hands, unmoving in his lap, and nodded,
obviously grateful for the pride-saving reason to stay. She had a
feeling he would have remained even without it.. but probably not as
long, and they'd have both been a little too aware of why.
Sitting back down and looking at the report on her screen, Elizabeth
forced a teasing grin onto her lips, "Unless you'd like to help me go
over Rodney's latest project requests?" Humour had always served
them well to lighten surfacing too-deep sentiments.
She'd expected a groan or a shudder of revulsion -however faked-, but
he surprised her by shrugging without commentary, "Sure. Pass me a
viewer with half." She could hardly refuse the never-before
received offer, but she was just as glad when Ronon showed up, half an
hour later.
Silently trying to read while looking up worriedly at an equality
silent John every few minutes was tense work; the evaluations would
have at least engaged them -distracted them-. She took the viewer
back without comment as her friend was convinced to go to practice with
his teammate, watching him walk away with a jerky version of his usual
swagger.
Later that night, when she found
herself staring at an un-cooperatively
blank screen while her mind replayed the same scenario of grief and
loss over and over, Elizabeth decided she would be more useful
elsewhere and took her tablet to the cafeteria, grimly pleased with her
guesswork when she found John sitting at a window table in the deserted
darkness. Sitting down next to him without waiting for acknowledgment,
she laid the computer down between them and pulled up Rodney's
requests. It would work as an excuse for *her* too.
John looked at her affectionately, seeming a little better, at least,
than earlier; he was looking *at* her now. Although the fact that
he'd opted to stay up instead of going to bed after a long day gave its
own message of fear; or nightmares. "You don't have to do this."
She ignored the implication in the gentle words as she split the screen
so they could each take a section to go over. Playing dumb, she
gave him an absent, bland, "Do what?" She didn't hold much hope
he'd drop it, but it was worth a try. Maybe he'd had enough of
emotions for the day...
He put his hand, warm and gentle, over the one she'd left on the table
as she moused over her screen with the other, "Take care of me."
Or not.
Elizabeth forced herself to breathe normally, the all-too-simple touch
making her feel momentarily protected, like a cloaked arm thrown around
her shoulders. There was a reason they usually avoided letting
their skins touch.. they'd both given themselves away at one time or
another; honouring the choice to leave feelings unspoken was best done
by honouring distance too. But whether he just needed the
closeness tonight, or.. whether he wanted to change the status quo...
well, she'd deal with tomorrow when it came.
For tonight, she hesitated, then chose to answer honestly, meeting his
tired look with her own loneliness bared, "Yes, actually, I do." *Not*
being able to take care of him actually hurt sometimes; *knowing* he
was somewhere, lonely and in pain...
He hesitated too, before lacing their fingers together and giving her a
sad smile of 'I've been there' understanding. Then he started
reading his assigned text, ignoring the way she watched him for a few
seconds more. They'd gotten good at ignoring; it allowed them to
keep these crumbs to survive on.
John tried to concentrate on the gibberish on the screen, honestly
wanting to help. He wasn't a child, he *could* work; he just hated the
'sit at a computer and read' thing. And when his mind was filled with
pain and fear that he couldn't do anything about... Rodney's pomposity
became a mixed blessing fast; distractions only work as long as you can
make yourself focus on *them*.
Instead, John kept seeing the guide's wife laying on the blood-stained
ground, seeing a mirror of his life breaking as he stood frozen;
shattering into pieces he could do nothing about.
Seeing Citizen Sirval crouched over the woman he loved, shaking with
utterly silent sobs, he kept getting double vision, kept seeing himself
from some anonymous third perspective, crouching over.. John's eyes
closed as he swallowed the wave of imagined grief that hit him.
Seeing himself crouching over Elizabeth. Damn he hated these incidental
hammers life found to attack with.
"John?"
He opened his eyes as she turned her hand in his and squeezed. Meeting
eyes as worn-out as he felt, he nodded acknowledgment of the concern
and got back to reading. He still wondered sometimes, what kept her as
silent as him; even as their feelings reached the point that they
couldn't be hidden. Nor denied. It had taken a year to even
contemplate the fact that Elizabeth might just be as afraid of a
relationship as he was; afraid of the destruction that seemed to be the
only result for him. And maybe for her too?
Still. Whenever death came too near either of them, like now, John was
tempted, and he was sure she had been too, just a little, to take the
risk and try to get them closer... but neither of them had ever taken
the leap.
And after a while, he'd realized that the non-tactile friendship
between them meant too much to him to be risked. That between losing it
to his cursed luck and losing Elizabeth to death... there was no
difference. He'd break. Slow or fast; fading out or self-destructing
with a bang. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, so why
risk shortening their time together by even an instant? He'd only
be hastening the agony.
Sometimes -especially when another nightmare was added to his roster-
John wondered if there was really a point to this life in the end. A
point to this barren, endless existence.
But then she would walk up to him and the nightmare would be pushed
aside; he'd find himself smiling without knowing why, feeling lighter
and more aware. Would fall into step besides her and *know*, to the
bone, that he was alive.
And he was cared for.
Because he wasn't blind, he could feel Elizabeth's affection for him as
much as he felt his love for her. But only children thought love was
all it took, and only those who didn't really care, only *thought* they
loved, were casually willing to risk the existing love just to get sex
when they knew themselves to not be able to maintain that relationship.
There were moments when he worried that she might not know how he
felt. Might not know that she wasn't alone; would never be truly
alone so long as he had strength in his body to give to her. But
however strained she looked, however exhausted and heartsick, when her
eyes met his... he told himself he could see them settle a little; see
her acknowledge his care and let herself accept it.
It wasn't much, but in the end, the *point*, was just to *live*. To
take every breath and fight to stay as close as they could to each
other; to stay alive for each other. And if that left him, left *them*,
lonely for too much of their time... so be it; they were *needed*, had
a struggle to continue, people to protect, and they could only do that
properly *together*.
Fight on: they made *each other* do it. A silent demand for strength
and loyalty and honour that they laid on each other with every look,
word and touch. And were drawn to fulfill to their last breaths.
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