Originally posted by Anuna
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Okay, here I have part one. It's angsty, it's all John, it's very mental. it's also very Eri, who keeps inspiring me day in and day out. (I'm loving S6 discussion. It's so wonderful)
Ficlet, part one:
Ficlet, part one:
Spoiler:
In some most basic sense John always knew he would end up alone.
It wasn't frightening. It was a relief after knowing he could have screwed up somebody's life, even if that person claimed she understood, and loved him and didn't want to let go. It was Nancy who packed the bags and left but it was him who ended his marriage. He told her to go.
Loneliness brought relief.
He didn't complain about miles and miles of frozen wasteland, and flying over it. While it didn't give him purpose, he was away from doing significant harm. It was a safe status quo he could have kept, but life was never that simple.
The first thing she gave him back was the purpose – one that was wrapped with life and death responsibility, one that came with weight of the world, where every life they brought with them and every decision they made counted. The galaxy was crashing above their heads and they chances hung on a thin thread of daring hopes and brave escapes and that purpose he didn't fail. He saved lives and offered his own, because that was the right thing to do, that was the one thing he could do. In that purpose he was happy.
He knew about the purpose all along. Things he didn't notice, not right away, things that sneaked up on him and caught him off guard were the possible danger. He was content. He was happy. He built himself a home and found a family.
He had her too – not just a superior, and not solely a friend, but something more, someone indefinitely more important, more significant than that. Someone who got him.
Someone.
Her.
*
John was never afraid of death. If anything, it was the end of all thriving, the end of possibilities to make things worse; it meant he couldn't do any good but also he couldn't harm anyone any more. Giving his life to save another wasn't a tragedy. John savored life and living, but he firmly believed that his life came with a purpose and a price.
Death brought peace, but in this life he wasn't destined to have it.
*
John felt that uncomfortable shift within him when he saw her sitting near the large french door, overlooking the balcony and the ocean outside. It was always her favorite spot, solitary and sunny, a small piece of freedom for briefest of times within a day. Lately the days have been long; possibly longer to her than to him. She was always a person of purpose, much like him, and ever since she was back – ever since they got her back – she didn't have one.
John was always comfortable around her, and rationally he knew it was her, real her, flesh and blood and controllable, completely biological nanites. Rationally, he knew the sky wouldn't come crashing down on them. Nobody would take her away any more.
Hesitantly he came closer and she looked up at him and his lunch tray with a faint smile. John sat down, wondering if time could simply reset itself to some previous point; just sitting down and sharing the lunch and the sunshine as the last two years faded somewhere in the background of his mind. He probably should settle and accept the better outcome, and sleep peacefully, because she was safe and whole and be a happy man for it and for bringing her here. But at the same time he felt cheated and tricked, with that overwhelming, grave sense of loss still clutching at his chest, and she, Elizabeth, she couldn't tell him what to do with it now.
They said, be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
Eventually, the words died out. They fell flat and fall into the cracks between them and made them all the more obvious, and hurt more. She was gone and he had to say goodbye to her so many times, too many times a man should bear in a single lifetime. But in the silence he could settle, even for a little bit, and it felt easier than words and simpler than accepting. He looked at her, as long as he could bear it, and then looked away, to gaze out and onto the ocean. The sunlight was warm, the glow of it leaving him pacified, if only for a moment when he was truly and deceptively safe and in the quiet of the sunset they were gazing in the same direction.
It wasn't frightening. It was a relief after knowing he could have screwed up somebody's life, even if that person claimed she understood, and loved him and didn't want to let go. It was Nancy who packed the bags and left but it was him who ended his marriage. He told her to go.
Loneliness brought relief.
He didn't complain about miles and miles of frozen wasteland, and flying over it. While it didn't give him purpose, he was away from doing significant harm. It was a safe status quo he could have kept, but life was never that simple.
The first thing she gave him back was the purpose – one that was wrapped with life and death responsibility, one that came with weight of the world, where every life they brought with them and every decision they made counted. The galaxy was crashing above their heads and they chances hung on a thin thread of daring hopes and brave escapes and that purpose he didn't fail. He saved lives and offered his own, because that was the right thing to do, that was the one thing he could do. In that purpose he was happy.
He knew about the purpose all along. Things he didn't notice, not right away, things that sneaked up on him and caught him off guard were the possible danger. He was content. He was happy. He built himself a home and found a family.
He had her too – not just a superior, and not solely a friend, but something more, someone indefinitely more important, more significant than that. Someone who got him.
Someone.
Her.
*
John was never afraid of death. If anything, it was the end of all thriving, the end of possibilities to make things worse; it meant he couldn't do any good but also he couldn't harm anyone any more. Giving his life to save another wasn't a tragedy. John savored life and living, but he firmly believed that his life came with a purpose and a price.
Death brought peace, but in this life he wasn't destined to have it.
*
John felt that uncomfortable shift within him when he saw her sitting near the large french door, overlooking the balcony and the ocean outside. It was always her favorite spot, solitary and sunny, a small piece of freedom for briefest of times within a day. Lately the days have been long; possibly longer to her than to him. She was always a person of purpose, much like him, and ever since she was back – ever since they got her back – she didn't have one.
John was always comfortable around her, and rationally he knew it was her, real her, flesh and blood and controllable, completely biological nanites. Rationally, he knew the sky wouldn't come crashing down on them. Nobody would take her away any more.
Hesitantly he came closer and she looked up at him and his lunch tray with a faint smile. John sat down, wondering if time could simply reset itself to some previous point; just sitting down and sharing the lunch and the sunshine as the last two years faded somewhere in the background of his mind. He probably should settle and accept the better outcome, and sleep peacefully, because she was safe and whole and be a happy man for it and for bringing her here. But at the same time he felt cheated and tricked, with that overwhelming, grave sense of loss still clutching at his chest, and she, Elizabeth, she couldn't tell him what to do with it now.
They said, be careful what you wish for. You just might get it.
Eventually, the words died out. They fell flat and fall into the cracks between them and made them all the more obvious, and hurt more. She was gone and he had to say goodbye to her so many times, too many times a man should bear in a single lifetime. But in the silence he could settle, even for a little bit, and it felt easier than words and simpler than accepting. He looked at her, as long as he could bear it, and then looked away, to gaze out and onto the ocean. The sunlight was warm, the glow of it leaving him pacified, if only for a moment when he was truly and deceptively safe and in the quiet of the sunset they were gazing in the same direction.
Originally posted by Anuna
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My idea is that this ancient device Teyla is trapped in is somehow the cause of Kate's rescue.
That's my idea. *hides*
Spoiler:
Perhaps it's a twisted genie in the bottle scenario - where Teyla literally walks into that bottle and the genie is a weird, eccentric, not entirelly benevolent (ascended) ancient woman who tells her this device grants her one wish, one thing in her life changed. She can take her pick, and if she wants to be certain, she can even try out several scenarios - a limited number of them. Three? Five?
She tries to change the events that have made her life more difficult, or that brought her loss (losing Elizabeth and Charing), or things she wonders about (John), but all of those somehow turn out worse for the people she is trying to save (for example, Charin becoming ever more dependant on medicine, and feeling unhappy, because she believes her life should come to a natural end and that reaching that point is a blessing.)
Teyla begins to realize she shoudln't try to "fix" her life against her own wise choices (John) or other people's choices (Elizabeth's sacrifice, Charin's choice to die) will not bring her happiness. But she has to make a choice and change something, and then she chooses to save Kate (and while doing so, Teyla doesn't know if that will turn out right, but hopes it will, because Kate didn't die by her own choice, and frankly, IMO, it was a stupid, stupid move by PTB. Elizabeth's scarifice did have meaning and purpose and the way Adrift/Lifeline are written, it is Elizabeth's choice, so, not something Teyla should be changing. However, PTB should have brought her back in a grand, glorious, let's - save - our - leader scenario.
She tries to change the events that have made her life more difficult, or that brought her loss (losing Elizabeth and Charing), or things she wonders about (John), but all of those somehow turn out worse for the people she is trying to save (for example, Charin becoming ever more dependant on medicine, and feeling unhappy, because she believes her life should come to a natural end and that reaching that point is a blessing.)
Teyla begins to realize she shoudln't try to "fix" her life against her own wise choices (John) or other people's choices (Elizabeth's sacrifice, Charin's choice to die) will not bring her happiness. But she has to make a choice and change something, and then she chooses to save Kate (and while doing so, Teyla doesn't know if that will turn out right, but hopes it will, because Kate didn't die by her own choice, and frankly, IMO, it was a stupid, stupid move by PTB. Elizabeth's scarifice did have meaning and purpose and the way Adrift/Lifeline are written, it is Elizabeth's choice, so, not something Teyla should be changing. However, PTB should have brought her back in a grand, glorious, let's - save - our - leader scenario.
That's my idea. *hides*
Originally posted by Eri13
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I think it's a good idea!
Spoiler:
What I might suggest, in keeping in line with the way Ancient-y type things were done, is that this is 'genie' is not a real person/Ascended, but a program designed by the Ancients to look like a genie, doing just what you suggest. Since the Ancients could pretty much do anything with their tech, I don't think it's implausible to find there's a sort of quantum mirror thingy that works to shift portions of timelines.
Maybe the Genie is Janus (we could bring his actor back too!) since he loved to screw with timelines.
Maybe the Genie is Janus (we could bring his actor back too!) since he loved to screw with timelines.
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