It's strange when you realize that there's someone you've known your entire life, someone who shares your genes, your upbringing, and you've never really known them at all. It's a weird feeling, kind of hollow and a little queasy in your stomach like the time you got so mad you spiked his juice with a squirt from Mom's plastic lemon and just about killed him. Or... well, okay. Maybe that's just me.
I spent most of my life in Meredith's shadow; I was glad to do it. He loves the glory, and I like things quiet. He deserved it, too. He's always been smart, so much smarter than I could ever hope to be, and ambitious. He loved publishing proofs, and I only did it to make him happy. Well, to make him shut up. Same thing, I guess, with Mer.
Life in Mer's shadow wasn't so bad, really. He was actually an amazing big brother for the most part. At the time, of course, I didn't think so. He made an artform out of making my boyfriends feel like collossal idiots, which was a favor I've never really thanked him for. The ones who couldn't take the heat, got out of the kitchen, and eventually I found Kaleb, who didn't even turn tail and run when facing down Hurricane Meredith, all but screaming his head off at the poor guy for knocking up his baby sister.
Still, it hurt to know I never in all that time knew him. It hurt even more to realize that complete strangers, people he'd known less than three years, knew him so much better than I probably ever would. They knew him, and they loved him in spite of -- or maybe because of -- his many flaws. But more than that, he loved them, too.
He loved them so much that it hurt him to see me with them, to think somehow I could or would make them think less of him. They listened to my embarrassing Meredith stories and laughed, not because they wanted to make fun of him, but because they loved him so much, and I was giving them more of him, parts of him they'd never have known otherwise. And I guess, maybe, they did the same for me. They showed me a side of my brother who was courageous, loyal and even vulnerable. I'd never realized that my big brother, my dorky childhood hero, could be vulnerable.
Then he came to my quarters, the night before my return trip to Earth on the Daedalus, and he hugged me. He hadn't done that since I was twelve and I was nursing my first big broken heart. Once I stopped crying long enough to tell him what happened, he ended up going to give Stevie McAllister a piece of his mind and getting his nose broken by Stevie's big brother Mike. When he left my quarters that night I think we were both in tears.
I realized on the long trip home that I owed John Sheppard a debt of gratitude. He'd given me my brother back that night, whether he realized it or not, and he'd been there for Meredith, been family to him when I wasn't. There was only one thing I could think of that I could do to return the favor. I could give my brother to him.
At first my only real plans were to take Meredith up on the promise of spending Christmas together, and casually invite his friends along. I had no idea what they did in the Pegasus galaxy for winter holidays, or if they even had winter on either Ronon's or Teyla's home planets, but surely John would recognize the intimacy of a family holiday for what it was -- a big, fat setup.
Anyone with eyes could see that John had it bad for Mer. You wouldn't expect it to look at them; they were just average guys. Well, John was slightly above average to look at, but Meredith was nothing special. I'm allowed to say that. I look just like him. Only with, you know, breasts and hips and more hair. Anyway, you don't always see two average guys, apparently buddies, and think to yourself how obvious it is that they're in love. Well, I don't. It took years of knowing Mer, watching him close himself off whenever he was attracted to someone, to recognize the signs that what John was feeling wasn't just one-way.
That was, of course, until the second time in four years that I answered the door to find Meredith standing there.
"I was in the neighborhood," he said quietly. "Well, Scotland's sort of in the neighborhood."
There was something about him, something broken, and the only person I know for certain that wants to fix it as badly as I do, just kind of hung back in the foyer at first, later refusing offers of coffee from Kaleb in favor of finger painting with Madison while Mer and I visited. I can still see John's eyes fixed on Meredith's face even as he traded chatter with my little girl, John's hand on Meredith's back as they headed back down the walk to the miltary escort vehicle that was waiting at the curb, lending him silent support that I'm sure he didn't even realize he needed or had.
I opened a new email window and typed four words before pausing to give my next words some more thought.
Just call me Cyrano.