NOTES: Written for the chocfic Characters-of-Colour Love-A-Thon to the prompt "Teyla/anyone/gen: alternatives - coulda, woulda, shoulda".
Ways And No Ways
There's a moment, with his hand on the swell of her belly, when John feels like the father of Teyla's child.
He's never been a father before.
It's life growing inside her, pragmatic and practical, but also mysterious and, in some inexplicable way that even Rodney doesn't deny, magical. A tiny human being who'll someday be a person of his own with his mother's courage and strength, her indomitable will and her ferocious tenderness.
John feels the sudden urge swell within him, not passion but protection, and knows what a man feels when the mystery of life is suddenly thrust in his face.
In his line of work, he's used to death. This is vastly different.
It's different because it's Teyla, holding his hand against her stomach, with no thought of the heat that flushes through his skin at the cool of her fingers. It's different because, under other circumstances, in another life, with a little more courage, John could have fathered her child, would have made the move and been accepted, should have had this moment with her without the shadow of the man she loves between them.
Kanan of Athos always intrudes, though; returning from whatever nebulous existence he now lives, stretching out shadowy hands to claim back the woman he loved - the woman John could love, would love, should love - but doesn't, can't, won't.
Mustn't.
The tidal flame recedes, leaving him cold and grey, like next morning's ash. John can feel the echoes of that moment trembling in him though, as Teyla turns her head away with tears for the man who should be here to feel his son moving beneath his hand.
This moment doesn't belong to John; he stole it from another man.
The thought stings.
He swallows hard, takes a step back, and looks for an exit, a way out of this lab.
Ultimately, there's no way out of their situation; given the choice, walking away from Teyla would cost John more than merely 'her love'.
His eye alights on the window pane and the stool sitting beneath it.
Coulda, woulda, shoulda. The possibilities of fathering Teyla's child are lost to John. Maybe it's for the best.
But he can do something in the now.
- fin -