Contemplation
The night brought loneliness. He was surrounded, but so alone.
John turned on his bed to lie on his stomach, right hand hidden under the pillow, palm against the bed. Snoring came from the bunk above his, from the one on the left and the one on the right. A loud cacophony of breath.
He missed Rodney's snores. At times so loud, they'd wake him up. The whining sounds he made when he was uncomfortable. You only had to pat him a little and he would settle down, or wake up suddenly and glare at you, demanding to know what your problem was.
He missed Ronon's vicious kicks. Ok, maybe he didn't miss the kicks per say, just the idea of them. The lack of space that came with the big man offset by the sense of complete security he provided.
He missed Teyla's quiet slumber. Her moans too if he had to be honest. She was ever so free in sleep, stretching languidly, allowing herself to be small and delicate. Restful, giving permission to relish in the pleasure of relaxation.
He missed Atlantis' gentle hum.
Only under the cover of darkness would he allow himself to be so pathetic as to cling to the thoughts of his friends' slumber. He wondered if they knew these things about him. Wondered if they ever watched over him when he slept.
John turned over thinking he probably wouldn't get any rest tonight. Every day brought new challenges to his peace of mind. Overcome by rage at first, it had now settled into resentment. His roommates helped him. They shared stories of their own arrival, coming to grips with a new sense of self. They all had the same worries now. The Assemblage day was approaching. Soon, Oblee would come to explain the process. John listened but never spoke to them and they had come to realise he would not welcome friendly advice. They shared with him and respected him in his silence as well as in the screams they heard sometimes, coming from the forest.
He hadn't trained for this. He had trained for torture, for interrogation. He had trained to sustain pain, never give under duress.
He hadn't trained for resistance against happy women who were only trying to be reunited with their partner. He didn't know what to do. He didn't believe in gratuitous violence. This procedure was a threat to him, but Oblee was not. She was a kind woman who couldn't see the error of her ways.
She wanted Banee back so fiercely that it blinded her. The others had tried to explain how it affected them before he was brought here. Screaming in fury. Crying in despair. Speaking in calm acceptance. She couldn't understand, wouldn't understand.
It was a familiar concept, longing for someone you cared for. All of the occupants of the house longed for loved ones. Mostly, they longed for their selves, lost in a barrage of doubts.
John hovered between two states. One of confidence in his self-worth and one of complete belief in the futility of the life he had led.
Tonight, he clung to confidence. His life has meant something. The last two years alone had been full of experiences. Some had enriched his person, some had robbed it of its vigour, but all had meant something. Tonight, he knew who he was and longed to be with the people who could accept it.
Closing his eyes, he willed sleep to come, unaware that light years away in a darkened room someone watched over him as he lay in complete stillness.