![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[For Arya]
Feb. 17th, 2014 05:38 pmJohn had, over the years, done many, many stupid things in the name of keeping Atlantis safe and her inhabitants alive. Trying to nuke a Hive ship as part of a suicide mission in order to save Earth only seemed like the next logical thing to do, but even then Atlantis came to the rescue. She seemed to do that a lot.
And now, as he stood on an Atlantis balcony looking at the Golden Gate bridge, an uncomfortable feeling crept down his spine. It seemed so wrong. They'd been back to Earth a few times over the years, but somehow, along the way, it was like Ronon said: Atlantis had become his home. Having her sitting on Earth only made things weird. Plus, it was likely that the city would be crawling with scientists and soldiers (people who didn't really belong) over the next few weeks. They'd brought Atlantis back to save the Earth, but at what cost? All John knew was that he wasn't giving the city up ever again.
Everyone else left the balcony as the ocean winds chilled. Rodney and Keller, Ronon and Amelia, Teyla, Woolsey, they trickled away and left John overlooking San Franciso. He stayed, picturing the millions of people living their city lives, unaware of the giant alien city resting on the ocean mere miles away. Eventually a call from Lorne startled John out of his daze. He gave the Earth city one last look, then headed back toward the doors, back into his real home.
Except it didn't look much like Atlantis when he walked through the doors - in fact, it looked like he was in some kind of concrete bunker. And when he turned around to go back through the balcony doors, they were gone, replaced by a doorway leading into some sort of kitchen that looked familiar.
He took a few steps in, hand on his sidearm as he looked around. It looked and smelled harmless, and through another door he could hear some kind of children's TV show playing, with a kid laughing and singing along. With one last glance around the kitchen, John left the way he came, heading down the concrete hallway toward a huge set of double doors. One push through them led to the outside, bright light almost blinding him as he half stumbled down a few stairs and onto a path way. There were buildings around the area, palm trees, and in the air, salt? The ocean, somewhere nearby.
John took two steps onto the path, and he felt a faint tug of memory. A few more steps, and he could almost...
He barely made it ten feet from the door before he collapsed, clutching his head as an influx of memories - of five years of his goddamn life that he'd somehow completely forgotten - came flooding back.
And now, as he stood on an Atlantis balcony looking at the Golden Gate bridge, an uncomfortable feeling crept down his spine. It seemed so wrong. They'd been back to Earth a few times over the years, but somehow, along the way, it was like Ronon said: Atlantis had become his home. Having her sitting on Earth only made things weird. Plus, it was likely that the city would be crawling with scientists and soldiers (people who didn't really belong) over the next few weeks. They'd brought Atlantis back to save the Earth, but at what cost? All John knew was that he wasn't giving the city up ever again.
Everyone else left the balcony as the ocean winds chilled. Rodney and Keller, Ronon and Amelia, Teyla, Woolsey, they trickled away and left John overlooking San Franciso. He stayed, picturing the millions of people living their city lives, unaware of the giant alien city resting on the ocean mere miles away. Eventually a call from Lorne startled John out of his daze. He gave the Earth city one last look, then headed back toward the doors, back into his real home.
Except it didn't look much like Atlantis when he walked through the doors - in fact, it looked like he was in some kind of concrete bunker. And when he turned around to go back through the balcony doors, they were gone, replaced by a doorway leading into some sort of kitchen that looked familiar.
He took a few steps in, hand on his sidearm as he looked around. It looked and smelled harmless, and through another door he could hear some kind of children's TV show playing, with a kid laughing and singing along. With one last glance around the kitchen, John left the way he came, heading down the concrete hallway toward a huge set of double doors. One push through them led to the outside, bright light almost blinding him as he half stumbled down a few stairs and onto a path way. There were buildings around the area, palm trees, and in the air, salt? The ocean, somewhere nearby.
John took two steps onto the path, and he felt a faint tug of memory. A few more steps, and he could almost...
He barely made it ten feet from the door before he collapsed, clutching his head as an influx of memories - of five years of his goddamn life that he'd somehow completely forgotten - came flooding back.
