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Maybe it was the pressure. Had to be.
He did like Nancy; they got along swell, laughed at the same jokes and both liked Ferris wheels. If it had to be anybody, might as well be her.
It did have to be somebody; his father was quite specific on the picket fence, doting wife, and two-point-five children thing. Picture perfect for their reputation, a nuclear family - though for John, it felt more radioactive than most. As he stood in that church, watching Nancy walk up in her perfectly white dress, he tried to convince himself that the lump in his throat and butterflies in his stomach were for all the right reasons and none of the wrong ones.
Thank God there was a script for these things. Saying the wrong thing with everybody watching would just make a bad day worse.
The vows went smoothly enough, and the reception went even better. John hung around the refreshments table, hoping beyond hope that if he filled up enough on cake and booze, what was coming would also be easier than he feared.
The cake and booze failed him.
All too soon, John and Nancy were alone in a hotel room. Husband and wife, expected to do husband and wife things. As he stood, frozen by the closed door, Nancy sighed.
"You gave me the ceremony, you don't have to do anything else," she said, walking to the bathroom as if this were a business transition rather than a relationship. "I'll stick to my side of the bed, you stick to your side, and we'll let the rumour mill make their own conclusions."
"Thank you," John stuttered, digging through his bag for sleep clothes.
Something weighed heavy in Nancy's eyes when she came back out, nightgown covering everything and toothbrush in hand. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"What do you mean?" He worried she was going back on her promise already.
"This. Us. Being married."
No. "Of course."
"Hmm," she smiled, but it didn't meet her eyes. "Whatever you say, honey."
They settled into bed, backs to each other, and tried to feel like newlyweds instead of captives in a hostage situation.
He tried to be what she needed to be; but like wasn't love. One would assume that, over the years, he would just get used to it. That he would be able to kiss her without discomfort, that walking arm-in-arm wouldn't feel like being held at gunpoint. Scratch that - he was in the Air Force, being held at gunpoint was less intimidating than public displays of affection.
He yearned for deployment, and then felt hollow and guilty for wanting to get as far away from his wife as possible. The other soldiers laughed and reminisced about the wives and families they left behind, John's stories falling flat whenever he was pushed to join in.
Performative. It was all performative. What was wrong with him?!
When he came back from deployment to divorce papers on the counter, some part of him was relieved. Relieved that he could stop playing pretend, stop dragging Nancy down with him.
"I know you like me," Nancy said, a sad smile in her eyes. "But I need someone who is in love with me."
"I hate that I couldn't love you like you wanted," John responded, and signed the papers without dispute.
Patrick wasn't as happy with the divorce as Nancy and John had been, refusing to see how it granted both spouses freedom. John freedom to be alone, Nancy freedom to find someone she deserves. Because she sure as hell didn't deserve to be stuck with John. Angry, Patrick shut out John, all but saying he was no longer part of this family.
Good enough for John; he didn't have to find anyone else to take Nancy's place. He was free to be alone with the skies, which was all he ever wanted.
And when the chance to go to another galaxy was offered, it sounded like it'd be everything he was looking for. He had close friends, new technology, somewhere that felt like home.
All for it to come crashing down when he met that alien priestess. He hadn't ever felt what people refer to as attraction, never found someone hot or anything like that, before he met Chaya. Every cell in his body was calling out to her, to never be parted from her. Everything he never felt with Nancy.
Was this it? Did he really just need to find the Right Person, and he'd be fixed? The thought terrified him; by this point, he didn't want to be fixed. He was happy the way he was. Would he be happy with Chaya? Would he be able to give her everything he tried and failed to give Nancy?
The thought made him want to throw up. So, maybe not completely fixed. It didn't help that McKay treated her like a potential terrorist, making John feel like he had to choose between the best friendship he had ever had, and the chance to be everything people wanted him to be.
What people? No one here ever expected that of him, excepting McKay, who for some reason interpreted every polite nod and friendly conversation with the opposite sex as Captain Kirk behavior. Everyone who had pressured John before was millions of lightyears away, and had no say in his life.
But that pressure accumulates, internalizes. If a relationship with Chaya would make him feel normal, complete, human, then how detrimental would it be not to try?
How detrimental would it be to force himself to try?
He got up the courage to set up a picnic on the pier, spreading out the best of their food-stores on the least scratchy blanket. Chaya seemed pleased by the decadence, and amused by the way John tripped over his words.
The night ended with a kiss; a frightening, confusing, electric shock of a kiss. Did he like it? He couldn't tell.
And of course he ran into McKay on his way back to his quarters. Everything in him felt like he had done something wrong, something explicit, something that would get him in trouble. McKay's accusatory tone did little to dissuade John's fears. Finally, John was able to escape the conversation and hide away in his quarters.
The next day, McKay accused Chaya of being one of the Ancients. She didn't deny it.
All the information compiled together in John's mind; Chaya being an Ancient, the way he felt around her, the way he felt when he used Ancient technology. He wasn't in love with her; his ATA gene was reacting to Chaya's biology. Tears of relief choked him as he realised he was never fixed, because he was never broken.
He was fine alone. His friends, Atlantis, flying - that was all he needed, all he would ever need.