NOTE: Written for the Beya Community Prompt Battle – Prompt used: 'run away'. Set in S5 (no major spoilers).

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The massive barren landscape stretched out below the hillside over looking the abandoned river. John scanned the littered riverside as he peered around the small remaining part of the wall behind which he crouched. The view was not good. He pulled back behind his scanty shelter, rechecking his weapon once again though he had checked it only moments before. His hands slid over the metal of the P90, feeling without looking for the familiar placement of the switches and curves of the weapon that had saved his life more times than he could or wish to count. But, today it would not save him and though he knew that the outcome of today will be unlikely to be anything positive he would still fight. He ran his fingers back to the firing position and waited.

Above the clouds rumbled and he glanced up at the weight of water that now began to fall. Just what he needed, yet it felt appropriate. He had always thought that final stands should always be in the rain, like in any good movie. Sad, yet courageous last moments in the hero's life and he goes out in ablaze of glory in the pouring rain; like the heavens mourn his loss. Yep, if he was on his way out, it should be raining. He tilted his head back further, resting the back of his head against the damp moss covered wall and let the rain fall on his face.

Beside him he felt Ronon shifting his weight, but there are no words between them. They have said them all before and there was no need to say them again. They would die fighting beside each other. Brothers dying a heroic death.

Dave's image materialised in John's mind's eye. He had not written to his brother as he had promised. Life, as usual, had run away from him. But, in truth, had he really been planning to write that letter? After his father's funeral he and Dave had reconnected somewhat and it had helped quell some of the sorrow and loss from what had happened before. Dave had asked if John could visit for Christmas and John had said he would try, but was he really planning to ever go back there? In a way it was easier to never return. To leave as he had done all those years ago; he liked to think of himself as having marched out of that old memory filled family home with his head held high back when he was younger, striding forth to adventures and away from a dissatisfying life. But, now as he opened his eyes and let the rain water drip from his eyelashes, he realised that perhaps he hadn't so much as left, as he had run away. And now, there was no going back, no going home again after today.

This life he lived in Atlantis fitted him just right, as did his friendship with Ronon. Theirs was a life of constant change with the prospect of death an everyday event. And here now, he was facing perhaps his very end and it didn't feel like he had expected it to. Was he too used to life and death situations? Too used to running from what he really cared about? Was he running from life just as fast as he had been running from death all these years in Atlantis?

From the distance came the roar of the creatures. The sound echoing across the blood soaked flood plain below and vibrating up to the ruins that were his and the other handful of survivor's tiny pitiful shelter. It had been an innocent babysitting mission of a group of scientists that he and Ronon had actually volunteered for just to get away from the administrative tyrant that was Woolsey. How typical that John's death would come this way; a last stand with no one to know what happened to them. The attack had been too quick and too far from the Stargate to call for help. There was no rescue coming and they were almost out of bullets; few bullets and masses of those Bigfoot things. They ate bullets into their bodies like fly bites and only once half a clip went into one did it fall. That was simple maths than anyone could do.

Ronon stirred again beside him, his breath rate catching telling John that the creatures had found them. John peered around the wall again and saw for himself the approaching front of teeth, claws and thick heavily muscled bodies now headed for the foot of the hillside. It wouldn't take them long to get up here.

He pulled back and made eye contact with the two remaining scientists, they were both pale enough to pass out long before the attack reached them. But, then John had seen enough human slaughter today that he knew his own face would not be any pretty picture to see. His fingers slid to check his weapon again and he stopped the nervous habit, resting his head back again and took a deep breath to steady himself. He looked up at far the horizon and prayed for the sight of a Jumper, though there was no logical reason why one might be there. He wanted to survive, wanted to run from death, wanted to live. He told himself then that he would stop his running. He would write that letter to his brother and promise to visit him in the Christmas season. He would… What would he do? What was there for him other than work? He couldn't really see himself with a family, living in a normal house with a white picket fence. Would he travel and fight among the stars for the rest of his life? Surely there was more to life than that. More than dying on a planet with no name with no one to really miss you?

His thoughts ran to Torren then. The kid had become a permanent part of all their lives. John would never see Torren grow up. That was a painful thought. He had resented the child for so long before he was born. It wasn't right and he knew it. Holding Torren had resolved much of that resentment. John enjoyed holding the boy, talking to him and there was nothing as amazing as when a baby smiled up at you. And in those moments John imaged himself as Torren's father. Of course much of that was because Teyla was Torren's mother.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to imagine sitting cuddled up with Teyla, Torren in his arms. It was a picture that made him feel sad, sad that he would never have that. He had missed his opportunity, had avoided and ignored the potential he had felt between them. At least if she had turned him down, then he could have moved on, but he still felt captured in limbo; caught between his anger at himself at not having made a move before Kanaan and Torren, and the other part of him that told him he was right to stay away. Teyla could have a normal Athosian life with Kanaan and their child. They could live a life she wanted, not one in which she was married to a man from another galaxy who had major emotional issues. But, that logical reasoning hadn't helped the desire and heartbreak that lingered in him still. Like with his family, Nancy and his brother and even his career before the mission to Atlantis; he had run away from her. Why?

"I'm in love with Teyla." John found himself saying out loud into the rain. The words were shockingly honest for him to admit, the sudden realisation and confession made sadder by the situation. Or was it that he was about to die that made him brave enough to finally admit it?

Ronon snorted softly and John looked round at him, blinking rapidly through the falling water. Ronon nodded as if he wasn't surprised and clapped a hand onto John's closest shoulder. The understanding and mutual knowledge of what was about to descend on them was clear in Ronon's eyes. John nodded in return and Ronon returned his gaze out over the edge of the wall, his eyes scanning for the enemy that was so close now John could hear their footsteps shifting loose rocks free as they climbed the hillside towards them. It was time.

John moved away from the damp wall, crouching low on his toes, moving in tight behind the wall and peered around the edge. They were almost at the top of the hill. John rested his P90 on top of a rock jutting out from the wall and sighted down towards the direction of the creature's grunting and snorting as they ascended towards them.

"You should tell her." Ronon uttered through the noise and rain.

John kept his eyes focused on the hillside. "Teyla? It's a little late don't you think?" He replied with dark humour.

"We might get out of this." Ronon said with amusement of his own.

John laughed lightly. "Maybe." The grunting was growing louder. "Besides she's got Kanaan and Torren. It wouldn't be right." He found himself adding.

Ronon rested the butt of his stunner, set to kill, on the top of the wall and John smelt the strange static smell off the gun as the rain hit it. "It might help you."

John looked over at Ronon briefly, surprised at the philosophic words from the big warrior. Maybe John was running away from that confession as well. If he never faced the truth then he could run from the promise of her forever. If he went back to Earth, or she went to live with the Athosians again, he would forever remain in that place of limbo. Or if he died today.

The roar vibrated around them as the creatures crested the hillside and John began to squeeze off shots, placing them carefully and unhurried. Ronon's weapon discharged over and over again by his left ear and through the sound of death and falling bodies John promised himself that if by some miracle he survived this that he would stop running away.

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