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40 Upper Brook Street, London
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July 2007
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John Sheppard [userpic]

John is sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee. He's spent a while watching the twins sleep. He knows Gilly would be ecstatic if he woke her up for snuggling, but he can't quite bring himself to do it. So instead he made coffee and has hidden out.

He feels weird, here. There's no echo of ocean, and everything is just...wrong.


"...Please?" he pleads, quietly.

She was in a perfectly decent mood today. She's not sure why just talking to her husband has ruined it -- that shouldn't be how it works.

"Fine," she says, moving closer.

He doesn't touch her, yet. "If you really don't want me around right now...."

Her silence stretches suspiciously long. "That's not it."

He doesn't seem to belive her, but he lets it go. "What, then?"

"It's just not fucking fair." She closes her hands around the teacup, not looking at him. "Everything was fine."

"I know, baby. I know it's not fair. But I am going to fix it, and you're all going to come home."

"I have nothing to do except sit around and argue with teenagers."

He shifts, turning to face her a bit better. "You're bored. Okay. So we'll find you something to do. The teenagers are here to help you, baby. You don't have to be here taking care of everyone all the time."

"'We', like you're going to be around enough to help."

He actually hesitates, then sighs and stares down into his coffee. "Right."

"...that was uncalled for."

"No. It's fine. You're right."

She makes a non-committal noise in response.

He sighs. "You're right, Donna. I'm not going to be here. That kills me. Kills me. I went so far as to seriously consider getting a transfer, just so I could be here."