Author's Note: Most of this one was written around 0445 this morning after an hour's worth of sleep so it's not my fault if it's kind of cracky and weird! I really had no intention of doing this ep, because it seems everyone in the fandom hates it, but I wanted kind of get in to how different it could have been if McKay had been a girl. Plus, it gave me an opportunity to leave some more mysterious clues about Meredith's past. Mwa hahaha. calikelley is an amazing beta, but she's only human and I'm suffering from insomnia or something so any remaining mistakes are mine! Comments are love. Also, may do a companion piece to this featuring a bit of Mer/Ronon if anyone's interested.
John wants to be annoyed.
Really, he does. He's still recovering from a cold so he doesn't feel well and all he wants to do is sleep, thank you very much. He thinks he probably should have told her to go back to her own room because she's a bear when she's sick and she'll most likely murder him if she catches this—even if she did insist on sleeping here—but after the whole Lucius bullshit, he's not going to let her out of his God damned sight for at least a month.
Maybe more.
Probably more.
Still, the whole twisting and turning thing on a bed not meant for two people has to stop.
"Meredith," he hisses, clearing his throat when it comes out as barely above a whisper. "Hey, knock it off."
He's rewarded with an elbow to the gut and a whimper. An actual whimper. Most days, he forgets that she's even capable of making those noises, so stuffy nose and sore throat forgotten, he pushes himself up on an arm and looks down at her.
She's still fast asleep but her face is contorted into a deep, crooked frown, lines etched across her pale forehead. Her wild, curly hair is matted to her cheeks and just as he reaches out to smooth it away, she startles, hands flailing wildly as she bolts upright.
Her chest is heaving and any other night, he would probably tease the shit out of her because hello, no bra, but tonight's not the night. Instead, he scoots over, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to draw her closer when she gasps and then the tremors start.
"Hey," he soothes, pressing his lips to her hair. "Hey, it's okay."
She's quiet, save for the short little gasps that escape her and her fingers are clutching his chest hair in a way that's actually kind of painful. He doesn't brush her away though. He just pulls her closer.
Her face is pressed against his neck and he can feel the warmth of her breath tickling his skin.
"Easy," he says, running his hand down the length of her back. His neck feels suspiciously wet and he's really starting to get freaked out now. "Talk to me, Mer," he whispers, pulling away just enough to brush his lips over her cheek. "Bad dream?"
She nods but doesn't speak.
John sighs. This isn't exactly his forte because a bad dream isn't an enemy he can shoot. There's nothing he can do to make it go away, but he tightens his arms around her and hopes that maybe it'll help. "Might help if you tell me about it," he says.
"It won't," she says, her voice a little wavery and weak.
"Try anyway."
She shakes her head and presses her face harder against his neck, her breathing hitching just a little. "Just um… hold me? For a minute?"
He thinks about calling her an idiot for sounding so unsure of herself when she asks but he doesn't. Instead, he pulls her so she's practically sitting on his lap, head tucked under his chin.
She'll hate herself in the morning for this.
They sit like that for awhile, Meredith tucked safely in John's arms. John's legs have fallen asleep but he doesn't complain and he doesn't try to move her because she needs this. He thinks she's close to falling asleep again because her body has started to relax, the tension leaving her back and shoulders but before he can move to a position more conducive to sleeping while she's still attached, she jerks awake again, the top of her head cracking against his jaw.
"Sonofabitch!" He curses. Jesus Christ, she has a hard head.
"Sorry!" She shrieks, pulling away to rub at the sore spot. He gets a good look at her tearstained face and suddenly, the possibility of a God damned broken jaw is forgotten.
"Hey," he says again. "Talk to me, Mer."
"No," she says stubbornly, shaking her head for emphasis as she moves to climb from the bed. He reaches for her, fingers encircling her wrist as he pulls her back. "Stop it!" She orders, smacking at him with her free hand, struggling against him. "Stop it, John!"
"No," he says, and this time, he's being the stubborn ass. "Not until you tell me what the hell's going on!"
She's been wound up before, but not like this. Nothing other than the threat of his impending death has had her looking this terrified.
He tugs her back again because this is getting a little ridiculous but the look of sheer panic on her face stops him and without thinking of the consequences, he drops her hand.
She stumbles backwards, landing hard on her ass. He's on his feet in a minute, thinking the lights on as he leaps off the bed, pulling her into his arms.
The little gasping breaths that might be sobs have started again and she wraps her arms around his neck, breathing harshly in his ear.
"I was scared," she whispers, and just like that, he's feeling a little homicidal.
"When? What happened?"
"It's just… it's just he's so big, and I swear to God John, I'm not normally afraid of him because I know he won't hurt me but he wasn't himself and you weren't here and, and, and…" she trails off, shaking against him.
"Did he hurt you?" John asks because he has to. "Meredith? Baby, look at me," he says and he tries to pull away enough to meet her eyes, but she wraps her arms tighter around him. "Did he hurt you?"
"No," she says, and he can feel her shaking her head against him. "God, no, he didn't hurt me but he wasn't himself and I didn't know… God, I didn't know!"
John sags against the wall, hands tracing soothing patterns on her back as he holds her. While she hasn't said exactly what she's talking about, he thinks he already knows. He certainly remembers that kick-to-the-crotch feeling when she'd babbled on about Ronon holding her to a wall while Lucius "talked" to her like it was the greatest God damned thing in the world.
"You're safe now," he says, because he thinks she needs to hear it.
She nods against him and pulls away, swiping discreetly at her face. "Of course I am," she says. "I… I'm sorry I woke you up. We should… uh, which is to say you should go back to bed. You still sound awful."
He knows what she's doing, of course. She's embarrassed. "I'm fine," he tells her and it's mostly the truth. His head is starting to ache again, but he thinks that's probably more from her skull cracking against his jaw than anything.
"You're sick," she frowns, pushing at his chest when he tries to hug him to her again. "And if you get me sick, I might have to castrate you."
He hates when she gets like this, all huffy and angry to cover what she thinks is a weakness but it's so totally her and he knows that even if he could, he'll never try to change her.
"Bed," he says then because it's what she's expecting.
Nudging her off his lap, he pushes himself to his feet and holds a hand out for her, surprised when she actually takes it. Pulling her up, he crushes her against his chest, nuzzling the soft skin on her neck as he breathes in the scent that is 100% Meredith McKay.
"You okay now?" He asks.
"Of course," she says, tilting that stubborn chin up just a notch. "Of course. Bed."
"Bed," he agrees, nudging her towards it as she tugs him along.
They collapse in a heap, John on bottom with Meredith pressed against his side, her face hidden against his shoulder. He thinks he can feel her heart hammering against his side and once again, he's cursing Lucius under his breath.
Meredith swears nothing happened, that John got there just in time, but never in a million years will he be able to forget what it felt like to walk in on that perverted fuck, his hand gripping her shoulder as he leered at her.
It took every ounce of willpower John had to keep from murdering him right then and there.
"You're okay," John whispers, but this time, it's meant for him than her. "You're okay."
He just wonders how many other times something like this happened and nobody got there in time.
He wonders if something like this was what Carter was talking about.
"Meredith…" he says, sounding distinctly horrified because he has to know. He doesn't want to know, but he has to.
She tenses against him, fingers gripping his chest hair as she presses her face even harder against his neck. "Stop," she whispers. "Stop, okay?"
The way she responds tells him everything he needs to know and he just pulls her tighter, nosing her hair as he closes his eyes. There's no way he's going to sleep tonight; not with this new information he has to process.
This isn't about Lucius or Ronon anymore. It's not even about John leaving her in a city full of fucking whack jobs. It's about something that happened a long time ago in another God damned galaxy and suddenly…
Well, suddenly everything makes a whole lot of sense.
He just kind of wishes it didn't.