Series: The goddamn genderswap what still needs a name
Summary: It's Wednesday, John thinks; or maybe it's Tuesday, or maybe it's summer.
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Word Count: 624
Rating/Contents: PG-13, implied violence
A/N: So this is not what I was talking about earlier. It really doesn't have anything to do with anything, sort of a scene missing a story; I just really wanted to write Mer doing something unmistakeably badass.
It's Wednesday, John thinks; or maybe it's Tuesday, or maybe it's summer. John isn't sure that it matters; he isn't sure of the last time he slept or ate, either, but he is pretty sure that he's going to die before anybody gets the chance to ask him what day it is.
"Attention, inhabitants of this miserable shithole of a planet," John hears from outside the high, barred window, twinged with a metallic whine, as if through a loudspeaker. He lets his head fall back against the cold stone wall, shutting his eyes tight. His mind is playing tricks on him again. John's just glad there aren't little purple spiders all over the wall anymore; he never did figure out if they were real or not.
"What was that?" his cellmate, Arvid, asks. John doesn't answer. He's not a bad guy, when he's not aiding and abetting John's hallucinations; it's just that he prays unceasingly to his goddess for help, and listening to him just makes John depressed.
"You have five minutes to release Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," the voice says, "or I will blow your entire civilization into a fine brown mist."
John opens one eye, tentatively. "You hear that?"
"He is the one with the fluffy black hair and the horrible taste in movies," the loudspeaker clarifies helpfully.
"Oh, yes," Arvid responds. "I am relieved you hear it as well. You never did hear any of the hymns that were playing earlier."
"You now have four minutes to release Colonel Sheppard," the speaker points out. "If your concept of time does not include minutes, you should by now be able to extrapolate that it is just enough time to bend over and kiss your ass goodbye."
Arvid peers up at the window, though they both know there's no way to reach it. "Do you know who that is?"
"That," John says, around the emotion that's threatening to choke him, letting his eyes drift shut again, "is my goddess."
"John?" Meredith says through the speaker. "If you're near an outside wall, I need you to get away from it right now."
He reaches a hand to Arvid, who pulls him away just as a set of metal claws shoot through the wall, tearing a huge chunk of it away. Another joins it, kicking up a huge cloud of white, chalky dust.
Where the haze clears, Meredith is sitting in the middle of the pile of rubble that used to be the wall; she's encased in some sort of complicated contraption, a steel cage with arms and legs.
"What the hell, Mer?" John calls, swaying on his feet, because nothing else seems like an appropriate response.
"I don't know," she answers, unbuckling her seatbelt and hopping down. "I got drunk watching Gundam Wing and woke up next to a giant robot."
"Again?" he replies, but by then she's picked her way across the rubble and is launching herself into his arms. He doesn't let himself believe that any of this is real until he feels her pressed against him; he lists, almost loses his balance; but she's there to hold him up, pressing kisses onto his face, lingering over the places where his tears have washed the dust away.
It's an eternity before they part, and it passes in the blink of an eye. Meredith pulls away first, letting her forehead rest against his; but then something catches her attention and she pulls back farther, frowning. "What the hell is he doing?"
When he glances over his shoulder, Arvid is kneeling with his hands clasped together, muttering something and rocking back and forth. "I think he just converted," John says, and Meredith raises an eyebrow at him. "It's a long story."
"Come home," she says, swallowing hard. "Come home and tell me all about it."
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