Your Heartbeat
1/2
By: Azurian Dreamer
Rating: K+
Spoilers: Rising, The Siege, The Hive, Epiphany
Summary: What do you do with unfounded betray? Does it disappear when you find you were never betrayed, or does it lie inside you, rotting without a target? In response to Epiphany. Slight Sheppard/Weir. Not much though. Planned as a two part story.
After the initial shock of cold, unrelenting rock slamming into his fist wore off, he was calm. Collected. He knew his team would get him out.
After the first twenty-four hour period passed, he panicked for a moment before remembering Rodney was on the case. Rodney would crack whatever code held the barrier closed simply for bragging rights.
After the first week, John was irritated. They did send him some fun water and power bars ("how much had it pained McKay to give those up?" he wondered), but he was still trapped inside a damp stinking cave.
Four days later, the supplies ran out. He left the cave; very seriously irked at the people he called friends.
A month passed. He had a place he could call home if he wanted. He didn't want the place he'd fallen into, though. He wanted his room on Atlantis. He wanted to finish War and Peace. He wanted to be a part of something…bigger again. He missed people. He'd never missed people before.
After two months (and the final bag of supplies), he gave up hope. After three, he began hating them. They'd left him behind. You never leave a man behind.
When his fourth month of exile came to a close, he forced himself to forget the things he loved the most about the people who'd abandoned him: Sparring with Teyla, taunting Rodney, wondering how Ronan would handle airport security. The way Elizabeth's eyes crinkled around the corners when she tried to be serious while telling him off.
Theses things he forgot. But sometimes, when he dreamt, Elizabeth was still convincing him to come to Atlantis with her. She was still telling him off for something or another. She was still embracing him, eyes wet with tears from mourning him.
Five months passed and John began to settle into his new life. It was slower than he was used to. Moments passed, one to another, in a stifling procession, but he was learning how to flow with it.
Another month and they finally came for him.
The blade scraped against his skin in a familiar, soothing rhythm.
He'd been so angry with them. He'd though…well, he'd thought she at least cared enough to dig him out of whatever mess he found himself in. He'd been wrong. They'd abandoned him, betrayed him. He'd resented them for not doing for him what he would have done for any of them. He carried his anger, his hurt for a long time. Learning that they hadn't really left him didn't make his feelings go away.
He flinched, nicking his skin before finishing with the remainder of his beard. When he rinsed the suds from his face and stared in the mirror, he saw the same anger just below the surface. He'd hoped it would follow his facial hair down the drain, but it was still there, reinforced by six months of simmering.
It may have been only a short while for them. They'd not had the time to miss him, to feel guilty over leaving him, but John still couldn't forgive them for not living the same time he had.