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VVVVVVVVVV

HOLD HIM

John Sheppard hurt. Yeah, he'd hurt a lot before, but this was the worst he could remember. His footsteps hitched, and he favored his right leg. His sweat was cold. With every step he took, pain jolted up through his whole gut, and he felt like he might faint. Or throw up.

But then he would look behind him. He did it every ten seconds, under the guise of security, but in truth he did it because the sight there would banish the pain from his mind. It was Teyla, Ronon's arms. She was holding her baby. And thank God--she was okay.

The group tumbled out into the hangar bay, and the nearly-silent Kanaan directed them to a dart.

"I will fly it," Kanaan suggested.

"Um, no," John grunted, frowning at him. "I think not." He pointed at the group, the gun in his other hand sagging. "You guys stay right here. I'll get in and scoop you up in a...sec." He fought against a swoon and limped around the sharp alien craft toward the pilot's seat.

"John," Teyla called after him, and he dimly sensed Ronon put her down. Her feet pattered against the metal of the hangar bay as she followed him, and John absently thought of scolding her for being in a standing position.

Oh, right. He muttered sarcastically to himself. Like you should talk.

"John," she said again. He managed to turn around. She looked up at him earnestly.

"My baby should not be put into a Wraith holding tank."

"Right," John nodded, cursing his sluggish brain for not thinking of that. "Okay. Well, we'll...um, I can put him somewhere behind me. I'm sure we can find a comfortable--"

"No," she shook her head and stepped close to him. "You hold him."

"I--" He couldn't get his objection out before she gently pushed the infant into his arms. He quickly slung his gun over so it hung by its shoulder strap, and took the tiny child. Everything within him suddenly quieted at the feel of the fragile weight. The agony faded, giving way to a soft, deep wonder. His guard was battered--and so he suddenly couldn't fight it when tears stabbed his eyes. He lifted his gaze and met Teyla's--and then he could not look away from her. He studied every curve of her face, and the shine in her eyes, the way her hair fell across her forehead.

"Teyla," he tried, but his words choked. She smiled, then reached up, took his face in her hands, leaned up and pressed her cheek against his. Her still-gently-bulging belly pushed against him, and her soft fingers were warm against his cold skin. The baby lay in a soft cocoon between them. John's eyes drifted closed and he leaned into her. He tried not to, but in that moment, his strength was spent, and he needed her so badly...

"I am glad to see you too, John," she whispered. She turned her head and pressed her lips to his forehead just above his eyebrow. The next moment, she eased away from him, turned and headed back to the others.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, John's eyes followed her, then drifted back down to the child in his arms. Fighting to rally for just one more task, he turned to board the dart.

FIN