So anyway, here's this fic. It's supposed to be the end of that weird Lizzie!freaked!out! and left John with a note thing.
Title: Push, Pull
Summary: The conclusion of Retreat and its companion piece Vacant
Disclaimer: Not mine, won’t ever be. Prolly better that way cos it’d be all about the ships and/or ship and then where would the rest of the fanbase be?
He would watch her face in the firelight of a festival and think she was pretty, even after she left him broken. His heart belonged to her. And because of it, he would follow anywhere she led, even if they were just the Doctor and the Colonel. He’d see the attempts and offers of suitors and negotiators as she played the demure sophisticated woman diplomat.
So he would play the cad, falling back on his former ways, and take up with whatever female that gave in to his empty flattery. Before coming to the Pegasus, he used to be good at being what he really wasn’t. He would give himself away freely. It always ended a million miles away from good. The result here was frequently more consequential. They often gained one more enemy. It was then that they became John and Elizabeth.
They had started a fire they couldn’t survive.
He could see the hurt he inflicted upon her. In a sick, twisted way he was grateful his debauched whoring got her to see him. And he could stare back and see his name engraved in her soul. He saw that they belonged to destinies greater than each other, no matter how twined they were, and the fire would douse a bit. He would know then the why and never question it again, until their existence was threatened.
He would fall back into the flames and they would consume but never destroy.
He’d study as her brow knitted with worry almost tighter than her wringing hands. He knew how to stop it all, if only she let him, if only in the capacity of a colleague. Despite their history, it was still his job to protect her, even if it meant from herself. He could steal her fret away to a place where he would take the fall and survive it only because she was there to patch him up. He would tell himself it was what either of them would have done for anyone else here.
But then he would see her blow off some steam with Teyla. There her strength would build and her mind would clear. She’d get compliments on her speed and grace, he could see her brittle and thin. He would go to her as a friend and though it was never his intent, end up as her anchor in an evaporating sea. He’d hold on to his only lifeline. In the violence of the storm, they were tossed and turned about yet saved by the sheer will to live.
It always ended a million miles from good. But in the end they had fewer enemies.
In the aftermath, he’d see her pick up the pieces and paste them back together with the delicate touch of an artist. Her work was never done until they were a complete mosaic. And working side by side their city rose again to its splendor. He’d watch as she peered over reports and maps of assessments far after the sun had faded from their sky. And he wondered what she’d look like with reading glasses.
Still pretty, he thought. And he remembered the day she left him with a note. He finally understood it was because he could love her completely. No matter who or what she was, he thinks he would love her. And it petrified her. It rattled him too.
She had cleared his blackened record in more than one way. She made him commit. Then she had run, defying all she implemented in him. So he tried to complete his circle of failure with his depravity and yet here he was, hanging around, struggling with what he had and what he wanted. He never fully devoted to anything but her.
He could feel the embers being fueled making it difficult to hide behind the Doctor and the Colonel again. It seemed that if they had to trudge through hell to get to heaven he’d suffer the cleansing and they’d survive if she guided them.
Even if it wasn’t the happy ending most wished for, they were a million miles from over.