Author's Notes: This is my first Atlantis fic, so any constructive criticism is more than welcome. Spoilers for Hide and Seek, Hot Zone, and very slight for The Gift.
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The first time he wrote to her, he knew she'd never get the letter. If she did, it would be entirely blacked out, anyway. He wrote to her anyway.
Meredith,
I saw something beautiful today.
He then went on to describe in his most descriptive words what Atlantis rising had looked like, what the members of his team were like, and that he missed her desperately, love, your brother.
The next time he wrote to her he described how the prickly scientist had saved them all, and his entire worldview was shattered—but that was okay, because if Atlantis could make a person as self-centered as McKay into a decent, brave person, then his worldview deserved to be shattered. Love, your brother.
He wrote to her several more times, eventually daily, describing things that had happened, knowing that she would never see the words, but they were out and not in, so it wasn't like he'd have to see Heightmeyer or anything because he was fine. He'd just be better if she were here, too, and by the way, how's Grandpa doing?
He told her how his worldview wasn't done shattering. McKay was suddenly a genuinely good, yet flawed, human and not a giant, man-eating monster. Teyla was developing a wicked sense of humor (probably too much time around certain scientists and Majors), and Sheppard was, well, Sheppard. He couldn't help but add that Dr. Weir shared a first name with his own mother, and already, after only months, felt more maternal than Beth ever had, not that that was hard. And he wasn't bitter about that, of course not—Dad had been paternal enough for three parents, after all.
After a particularly harrowing, sleep-deprived day, he knew he had to write to her again, but the pen was repulsed from the paper like two magnets facing the wrong way. He put it down and put the back of his fist against his head and pretended he couldn't feel it shaking.
Meredith,
I watched five people die today and nearly died myself.
He had to put the pen down again. 993. Of course it wasn't prime—nine was a multiple of three, what had he been thinking?
Right, he had been distracted by his job of trying to keep the scientists safe. And, oh boy, had he failed miserably.
He picked up the pen again, only to put it down. There were some words on the paper, that was enough for now. He took a deep breath and went to bed for his desperately-needed sleep, figuring he could write again tomorrow.
I think I might be homesick—don't worry, just a little.
It was ironic. He had been so excited to come to Atlantis, it never occurred to him that he may be homesick while he was there. But, of course, Atlantis shattered his worldview. Again.
Not a month prior, the idea of working with a scientist would have made him groan, but now he found himself going to McKay on his off-time, asking if the scientist needed an extra pair of hands. More often than not, McKay did, and suddenly he was strangely interested in science. Not the heavy-duty stuff, but he was learning from McKay and, scarily enough, enjoying it. McKay was a good teacher, no matter how much he insisted he wasn't and that he hated it. He was more of an inadvertent teacher—knowledge seemed to just fall out of his mouth and on to anyone close enough for it to reach.
I miss you. Has Katie had her baby yet? It's strange, not knowing if I'm an uncle or not. Give Colin a good hard punch for me the next time you see him.
It was killing him not to know about his grandpa. He was scheduled to leave for a home about two months ago, if he converted his Atlantis time correctly. Grandma would be having a hard time with the transition, of course, and Dad probably would be, too.
Tell Grandpa I say 'hi', would you?
He wasn't going to mention the nanovirus again. It wasn't like he hadn't been faced with his own death before. And it wasn't like seeing McKay talking about his own sister had freaked him out a bit.
I know you won't get these letters, Meredith, but I just want you to know that I won't let us drift apart. I promise I'll come home—in one piece—to see your next show.
Even though she'd never read that, it still made him feel a bit better—as though putting the words on paper made them true. He was suddenly glad he'd had the foresight to bring this notebook, no matter how stupid it had seemed at the time.
Love, your brother.
He shut the notebook carefully, letting the mottled white-and-black composition book cover eclipse the script, before getting up. Maybe McKay would have something for him to do.