Title: Change
Summary: There were a lot of things John Sheppard wished he could change.
Characters: John
Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan.
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Missing

When she'd shown up at his door, he'd thought things would change. He really had. He'd actually allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe she'd overcome whatever fear it was that had held them both back for so long.

But things hadn't exactly gone to plan.

John remembered sitting beside her as she'd told him how glad she was that her people had been found and were safe and well – if perhaps missing a few memories – but that she hoped he'd be there for her the way he had been for the last month or so of her pregnancy. He hadn't said anything as she'd apologised for him not being there for the birth of her son, Doran, but that he must understand it was the father's place – Kanan's place – to be beside her in the birthing room. He'd nodded, agreeing but it didn't mean he didn't feel the bitter taste of resentment creeping up the back of his throat. But the look in her eyes; well, that was saying something to him that words could not. And that was when he'd started to hope.

"John," she'd said. "I... I am glad you are here."

It was then he'd leaned closer to her, circling her body with his arms. She'd even leaned into him and returned the small kiss he'd placed on her hair with one on his throat. And then she'd leaned back, lowered her eyelids and he'd been lost to her. His lips sought hers and she did not pull back but she didn't exactly reciprocate either. Until, that was, his tongue teased her lips apart. Then she'd responded in kind, her own hands coming up to his face and pulling further into her, crushing him to her so much that he thought he would break her or she would break him.

He wasn't sure what words passed between their lips as layers of clothing began to be removed. It didn't matter to either of them. It was when his lips were making their way down her throat that he'd frozen as the words began to matter.

"I am marrying Kanan."

And John had jumped away from her and stood on the opposite side of the room staring, mouth agape, at her in complete and utter shock. Small tears had leaked from her eyes at some point and he cursed himself for not noticing them before.

Of course she wouldn't tell him to stop because he knew that she had wanted that just as much as he had. Either that or she was a damn good actress, he thought bitterly as he watched her. He'd somehow clothed himself while she'd lain there, immobile, her hands covering her face, pulling at her hair, teeth chewing a lip that was plump and bruised from the ferocity of their kisses.

He hadn't moved – he couldn't – until she had tried to bypass him on the way to the door some time later. He remembered the way that neither of them moved for a long time; the room was black when she'd tried to leave, while it had been ablaze with the azure glow of sunset when she'd arrived. Her body brushed against his as she tried to reach the door and he took a step to the side, allowing her to move, ignoring the burning in his skin where hers had touched his.

She'd made it outside the door before he'd turned and murmured her name. She'd paused, turned to him with dark eyes that were alight with unshed tears but held little of anything else. He studied her face, wondering if he'd ever be able to see her in the same way again. She tilted her chin outward then and he'd shaken his head, slowly, his own eyes devoid of emotion as the doors had slid shut. That had been the last time he'd seen her before she'd left for Athos with her son and Kanan.

John lashed out at the wall in his hotel room and watched as the blood oozed from the wound and he shook his head angrily, ludicrous hot tears burning the back of his eyes. He scraped his hand through his hair and sighed as he felt some of the rage leave him.

He couldn't blame her, really. He guessed it was only rational that she marry a man of her own people but he'd thought they'd had something; something that was more than a few glances, worth more than a stolen kiss from a woman he realised he barely knew because the Teyla he knew would never do that. Her honour wouldn't let her.

He grunted as he moved to the bathroom and washed away the drippings of blood and bandaged it with gauze from the room's first aid kit. He paused on his way back to the bed and stared at his reflection; dark circles deepened his eyes, despite the amount of sleep he'd had; his hair was almost unruly, refusing to stand on end due to its length; his skin was dry and taught across his features, making him appear drawn and gaunt. He sighed again and saw the mist appear on the cool bathroom mirror.

There were a lot of things John Sheppard wished he could change.

And falling for Teyla was one of them.