halfamoon | Fic: "you already know how this will end" (2/2) (Teyla, SGA)

Title: you already know how this will end (2/2)
Author: Sarah T.
Website: alien corn
Rating: PG-13
Notes: This is an (authorized) sequel to

spike21's story Sequelae. It probably won't make too much sense if you haven't read hers first (plus, hers is well worth reading). Thanks to her for betaing. Written for

halfamoon 2009. (~15K words.)
Summary: "You never used to be this realistic."

Her hut was lit only by the dim glow of the hearth-fire, which just picked out a glint here and there of the surface of some precious item. She had lost everything she had collected on Atlantis, and had not meant to acquire more artifacts, but a few things had crept into her heart against her wishes. They would all have to be left behind, too. She would not give Michael any more hostages than she had to.

Tagan was sleeping in her hammock. Teyla walked straight to her and stopped, staring down into her innocent, careless little face. She had always known that Tagan would not have a tranquil childhood, but she had hoped for a little longer peace for her.

“What’s going on?” Kanaan asked softly from his shadowed corner. “I heard noise in the settlement.”

“I have retrieved the raw materials for Colonel Sheppard’s treatment,” she said.

“That should be a cause for joy.”

“Yes.”

“Yet you don’t look happy,” he observed.

She took a deep breath. “I am leaving the settlement. I am afraid you will have to look after Tagan alone for some time.”

His voice remained neutral. “Are you leaving with Colonel Sheppard?”

She swallowed. They had never discussed John. She was not sure what Athosian gossip had told Kanaan in the old days—whether he knew enough to be jealous of John specifically or simply as a representative of her old life, the freedom, the excitement, the glories of the city. But whatever he felt, he had never shown it. And he was a friend and a partner. He deserved a kinder answer than the one that had first risen hotly to her lips.

“No. I am going to the hybrids.”

“To secure Colonel Sheppard’s treatment?”

There was no denying his intelligence. “Yes.”

He said nothing for a while. Then: “It was a bad bargain.”

She touched Tagan’s cheek. “It was the only one open to me.”

“I’ve always wondered why the hybrids have never tried to impress our men into their service. As I recall, they even released Jinto when he was swept up in one of their raids two years ago, though he was of age.”

Kanaan did see a great deal when he was moved to. She hoped it was not anger at her that moved him now. She did not think she could endure it. “I showed Michael some kindness when he was a prisoner in Atlantis.”

“And this is how he returns it?”

No, the anger was at Michael, but that was wrong, too. She said, very low, eyes fixed on Tagan’s smooth and unmarked skin, “I showed him great cruelty as well.”

Kanaan was quiet again for a long time.

“How long will you be gone?” he finally asked.

“Seven years.”

“He wishes you to give up Tagan entirely?” he demanded.

“Far from it. He wishes me to bring her. But I will not take her aboard a hiveship.” She took a deep breath. “She will still be a child when I return. If I cannot visit, I hope she will remember me.”

“Her mother? I will not let her forget you.”

“I do not ask you not to seek another’s company. It is difficult to care for a child alone.”

“You set me free to do that a long time ago. I do not want another.”

“To love without hope is terrible,” she said. “I would want better for you.”

“I have our child,” he said. “I want nothing better than that.”

Her child. She had not wanted motherhood, and it had been frustrating for her in so many ways. But Tagan was the one person who had a true claim to her, and she was being forced to sacrifice it before she was even old enough to understand what was happening. Teyla felt a fierce tenderness and regret looking down into the hammock at those eyes closed trustingly in sleep. She gathered the child up gently and moved to her own chair.

“You should go rest. I will watch her for some time.”

She could see he wanted to ask to stay, but instead he rose. As he passed her on his way out, he silently rested his fingers on her shoulder.

“It could be hours before he wakes up,” Rodney said, hands busy at what looked something like an IV. “You don’t have to wait the whole time.”

Teyla did not answer, but instead sat down next to John, who lay quietly on his bed, shrouded beneath several blankets. Someone had changed him into spare Athosian garb, ill-fitting muddled greys and browns. His cheeks were sunken and deathly pale beneath the several days’ scruff that covered his skin unevenly like a fungus. He did not seem at all conscious of his surroundings, though she was not sure how much of that was his own weakness and how much the work of the healers.

Rodney looked at her, and then at Ronon, who had simply crossed his arms. “Okay,” he said, “but there might be some bodily fluids involved. Hopefully less than last time, since he’s already had it once…”

He was trying to protect John’s dignity, Teyla realized. She put her hand on his shoulder. “John is among friends now, Rodney. He has nothing to be ashamed of.”

He looked up at her, biting his lip, then away to the IV. “All right. Let’s see if I can set up this line. Hold still, Colonel, it’s your resident genius to the rescue for the eighty-seventh time.”

The white liquid began draining into John’s arm. Rodney immediately ducked down for a little plastic basin the healers must have given him and clutched it in his hands, comically tense, but there was no visible reaction from John. Teyla leaned back, prepared to wait for some time. Ronon, she knew, would prefer to stand, and could do so for hours.

But hours were not required. The change that passed over John was remarkable. Within minutes, she could see color threading up through his throat and blooming into his cheeks. The hanging wrinkles that dominated his face softened and seemed to fill in. His breathing grew round and full. Even the way he was lying changed: from limp and helpless in the grip of his illness to relaxed and easy. Athosian medicine was practical and well-adapted to their needs, and Teyla was glad that her own people had had a chance to tend to him, to give him back the care he had offered them in his own rough ways, but nonetheless there were times when Earth medicine could be nothing short of miraculous. Still, she waited, withholding her joy.

“I could really go for a turkey sandwich right now,” he said suddenly, without opening his eyes.

Teyla’s heart leapt.

“John?” all three of them said at once, bending together towards him.

“Yes, it’s me.” Now he opened his eyes, twinkling green up at them. “Geez, it’s like a convention in here or something. Save Ferris.”

“Very funny,” Rodney said. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone just drained molten lead from my veins.”

“I think it worked. Thank you, Jennifer Keller.”

Yes, Teyla thought, and sent silent gratitude to whoever else had helped them on Earth. She suspected they had paid more than Rodney quite realized.

“Yeah. Good old Jennifer.”

John was trying to sit up. With his laughing eyes, now his stubble looked merely roguish. Rodney grabbed his arm. “Hey, hey! Watch it, Colonel Incurable Optimist. You need to take the whole dose of this.”

“When did you become a medical doctor again?” John asked, but submitted, lying back.

“You remember how long this takes. Just try to keep still til it’s finished.”

John patted his knee and smiled at him, one of his rare little private smiles. “Okay, buddy. Take it easy.”

As she had been more than once before, Teyla was grateful that Rodney’s dramatics were filling the space amongst them. Her heart was hammering against her chest and her throat was closed so tightly she did not think she could even swallow without shedding tears. She had worked this miracle, she and Ronon and Rodney. It had to be worth it.

“You look good,” Ronon said.

“I feel good,” John said. “I think I’m still a little high, though.”

“The healers were caring for you before. They gave you some of our pain remedies. A lot of them, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” John rubbed his hand over his face. “Speaking of which, how did you guys end up getting the Iratus larvae?”

“Teyla traded for them,” Ronon said quickly.

“Ah, I should’ve known. Trust Teyla to take care of things. What did you have to trade?”

Now those eyes were twinkling at her, and each glint was like a glare. She almost had to turn away.

“Nothing of great importance,” she got out somehow.

“I see,” he said, and immediately shifted his attention over to Ronon. “Seriously, can a man get some kind of protein and carb concoction here before he starves to death?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Rodney said. “We’ve gotten so far without a visit to scenic Lake Vomit, and I’d really like to keep it that way.”

“He can have some soup,” Ronon said. “Clear soup. Good for hangovers.”

“Well….all right.”

“Come on then.” Ronon tugged at Rodney’s arm.

“What? No, I’m staying here. I have to supervise…” He waved at the IV as best he could with Ronon’s hand on his arm.

“Teyla can do that. You’re going to help carry the soup.”

“What, are you bringing in a whole cauldron?” Rodney peered up at Ronon. “Fine. If you insist. If he pukes, it’s not me on cleanup.”

He handed Teyla the basin with a look of pity. She wanted to rise, too, but Ronon said, “You’ll be fine, right?”

There was nothing she could say except, “Of course.”

As soon as they left, John pushed himself back up into a sitting position. He looked at her brightly, perhaps more brightly than he ever had before. It was clear that she was as much a sight for his eyes as he was for hers. She actually felt herself coloring.

“So,” he said.

She occupied herself with straightening his blanket. “Yes?”

“I learned something interesting recently.”

“You did?”

“Something the healers said. Now, it might have just been a hallucination, but I don’t think so. I hardly ever hallucinate anything good.” He was watching her carefully now. “As you know better than anybody.”

“What was it?”

“From what they said, I gathered that you and Kanaan aren’t actually…you know, a couple.”

She hesitated. It would be easy to lie here, but also dishonorable. “We are not.”

“Okay, then.” He leaned forward eagerly. “I know I should probably wait longer, at least til I’ve finished this IV, but I figure I’ve already waited around nine years too long. Teyla—”

“John, do not—”

He laid his fingers on her arm. “No, it’s okay, Teyla. I have to. When I thought I was dying, back on Earth, all I wanted was to see you again. I mean, all of you, but especially you. Of all the things I fucked up, which is some pretty stiff competition, you were the worst. At least I could go and see Rodney, try to—but you. I couldn’t stand the thought that I would die on Earth and you would never even know how I felt.”

He had leaned even further towards her, and Rodney’s contraption was listing. “John—your IV.”

“Oh. Yeah.” But he did not subside. Instead, he grasped her hand. Gently, so gently she did not have a defense against it. “But now, well, I’m not going to die. I’m not in the Air Force anymore, which means I’m not anybody’s commander. I’ve got a pretty good guarantee that I’m not ever going back to Earth, which is that they’ll shoot me on sight. And it sounds like homewrecking is not going to be an issue. So there’re no more excuses not to say it. I love you, Teyla.”

His eyes were shining with that purity of faith that she had always known had lain beneath his cynicism, his diffidence, just waiting for its chance. “I know,” she said, feeling how weak a response that was.

“And I always kind of thought that you—you know. Might have been interested, if things were different. Well, they’re never going to get any more different than they are now. What do you say?”

If she did not take some comfort here, she would never be able to endure the coming years.

If she did, she did not know how she would ever be able to go.

Sending her here to “make sure she got what she paid for”; had that been Michael’s most refined form of cruelty?

At the thought, she jerked upright with anger. Damn him. She would. She would.

“John,” she said, “I—”

Then her strength gave out on her, and she toppled into his arms. Startled, he still moved to cradle her, as though she were the sick one. The Athosian cotton was soft beneath her cheek. The healers had bathed him as well, and he smelled of the Athosian soap, thick and pine-green. She inhaled it as he stroked her hair, tenderly, with his free hand. He and she had had to be so wary of touch before, channeling stronger longings into sparring and the rough comradeship of field missions. Gentleness had seemed more dangerous than anything else. And so it was still.

She recovered herself enough to say, “I cannot—I cannot make you promises right now, John. It is very complicated.”

“What’s complicated?” he asked against her temple.

She shut her eyes. “It is better not to speak of it yet. But…” She drew in breath. “I love you, too. I have for so long…I would not admit it to myself, but I have been waiting for you to come back. I think I would have always waited. As foolish as that was, as much as life was passing me by…”

“I know,” he whispered. “We were all stuck. It was pathetic, but now…now I’m glad.”

There were footsteps outside the tent. Ronon said loudly, “I still think we could give him some bread. It’ll only take five minutes.”

“No bread,” Rodney snapped. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s not a … huge, strapping giant like some people. He can’t digest a four-course meal at once!”

She felt John’s fingers tighten on her arms like a question. She answered it by pushing herself upright. A quick pain flashed across John’s eyes, but he nodded, giving her fingers a short squeeze before she could free them.

“You’re sitting up again!” Rodney sputtered as he ducked into the tent. “Teyla, you were supposed to be looking after him! What would you have done if we’d been gone another ten minutes, taken him sparring?”

“Don’t worry, Rodney,” John said, giving her what was rarer even than his smiles, a little surge of pure affection narrowing his eyes, “I’m sure she’s done me good.”

Behind Rodney, Ronon made a little chuffing noise. Teyla did not meet his eyes.

Two days later, Alairi stood in the door of the hut at midnight, looking worried. “A hybrid has come, Teyla. He wishes to speak to you.”

She rose from where she had been kneeling before the fire to warm her hands. “Bring him here quickly. Let him speak to no one, and tell no one that he has come. Then go rest. Leave the gate unguarded.”

He frowned, but did not question her. The burst of pure gratitude she felt for his loyalty made her heart ache, and she wondered if she would ever deserve all the trust her people had placed in her over the years.

After Alairi left, she turned back to the fire. Michael was a guest, she thought in disgust, and put a kettle on to boil. She could not think of anyone she would less wish to share tea with, and hoped that he would not want to take the time.

The past two days had passed much more quickly than Teyla would have liked. She spent most of the time sitting in John’s hut or walking with him and the others as he recovered his strength. Despite what she could see were Ronon’s efforts, they were rarely left alone together, but John seemed content to take matters as they were.

This time was precious to her. Rodney and Ronon were each in high spirits in his own way, and John himself was easy, and charming, and free. It was startling to look at him and recognize the original of the grim parody of this self which he had presented to the world for so long. It made her heart ache for the John of the middle years and regret every moment of impatience or anger she had ever had for him. But he was not simply boyish now. The way he scattered little bursts of affection to each of them without shame or self-consciousness—she doubted even the young John had been like that. That was the way of a man who had suffered his way through to seeing the true value of things. It gladdened her heart to see him reach a safe harbor in maturity rather than in the worse things she had feared for him. As they laughed and reminisced about the old days, it was easy to forget the coming future.

Then, each night, she came home to her shadowed hut and prepared for Michael’s arrival, packing a few necessary things, planning the political transition, holding Tagan as she slept for hours on end. In those hours, she could think of nothing else.

Now that Michael had come, she felt grim and ready. She had pressed Tagan to her heart one last time, laid her bantos rods on the table before Halling’s fire, and written formal messages for the Council and her team, which she now set upon her own table. Her departure would be simple and straightforward. She would not give Michael the satisfaction of seeing her hesitate or suffer.

After a few minutes, she heard the rustle of cloth and looked up from her kettle. Michael was standing just inside her doorway, hands folded in front of him, watching her from the depths of the hood of his jacket. His face was unreadable. “Hello, Teyla.”

“Michael,” she greeted him. “You have come a long way. Will you have some tea?”

“Thank you.” He pushed the hood back and took the seat she indicated across from her. She was glad that she had the kettle, the tea leaves, the ritual to keep her hands and eyes busy. He seemed fascinated by her preparations, leaning forward to watch her movements. “Is this an Athosian welcome?”

“We offer this tea to all strangers, welcome or not.”

He caught her tone and smirked. “I see.” When the tea was ready, though, he accepted the cup from her earnestly, tasted it, and raised his eyebrows. “Delicious. You should bring this with you.”

Michael’s praise was enough to lend a bitter tang to anything, but she sipped determinedly at her own cup. She did not know how often she might have it in future. “How is your arm?”

He set down his cup, rested his arm on the table, and drew back his sleeve. She caught a glimpse of ugly blue wounds twisting from wrist almost to elbow, and bit back a little gasp. “Don’t worry. They will be healed in a day or two,” he said, quickly letting the cloth cover them again.

His attempt at a reassuring smile irritated her. “We will leave tonight. At once. Quietly.”

“No farewells to make?”

“I have made them already.”

He leaned back and sent his eyes around the room, as though he were an old friend. “This is very…cozy. I have not yet furnished your chambers aboard the hiveship. I thought you would prefer—”

“Teyla?” She rose automatically as Kanaan stepped into the hut, Tagan dozing on his shoulder. “She is restl—”

He broke off as he saw her visitor. Michael rose too, but did not even acknowledge Kanaan; instead, he bent his gaze on Tagan, smiling, taking two steps nearer. “Is this your child? What is her name?”

Neither she nor Kanaan answered. The smile wavered, and Michael shrugged.

“No matter. Are you sure you won’t bring her? She’ll be better off with the hive than here, I promise.”

“Her father will care for her,” Teyla said, voice like flint. Kanaan was rigid, shielding Tagan with his arm. She wanted to pull the blanket up higher, to hide the little dark head from Michael’s sight.

“Ah, her father.” He surveyed Kanaan briefly, and now there was contempt in the line of Michael’s mouth. “If you truly think that is for the best.”

“It is none of your concern, Michael.”

His lip twisted further. “Far be it from me to meddle. Don’t let me interrupt your errand,” he added to Kanaan.

She hoped desperately that Kanaan’s natural reserve would prevent a scene, and that the same time that he would keep his dignity in the face of Michael’s scorn.

“I have no errand with you,” he said quietly, justifying her hopes. “Teyla, you are determined?”

“Yes.”

“I love you,” he said just as quietly as before, but something about it made her focus on him for a moment. The flickering hearthlight lent him a kind of mystery he had never had in her eyes.

“I know,” she said. “I wish…”

“No, you don’t.” He bowed his head to her with a sad smile. “Goodbye.”

After he had gone, she sat down without thinking. Her hand curled loosely around her cup as she stared into the fire.

Michael moved slowly to his seat. He, too, seemed to be lost in thought. Then, suddenly, he shook himself. “That was your choice, Teyla? Colonel Sheppard, Ronon, even Dr. McKay I could understand, but that?”

She snapped out of her reverie. “You are drinking my tea, Michael.”

“Still,” he said. “Your child is beautiful. So little and—“

“Enough of this.” She set the cup down hard enough to crack it. “Let us go.”

“As you wish.”

She doused the fire slowly, methodically, as he stood by the entrance looking out. He offered to take her pack, but she pulled it on herself, ignoring his outstretched hand. The cloth fell heavily into place behind her.

Outside, the air was soft and mild. It was late enough that the camp was largely dark, but she could still hear its music of murmured conversation and snatches of laughter. She led the way easily despite the dark, and Michael, who had pulled up his hood again, was surefooted behind her. They reached the gate without incident.

“Dial it,” she said grimly.

Michael moved to the control panel. She watched as the chevrons lit and locked with their heavy mechanical clang, as they had so many times for her in the past, but never so clearly spelling out her fate as now. It was all starting to feel very remote and dreamlike, as she counted the clangs and watched the gate flare into its eerie glow, until--

“What the hell is going on here?”

She turned to see Ronon, John, and Rodney standing a few feet away. Ronon had his stunner drawn; John and Rodney had only handguns. Her heart sank. She did not want this to end in violence.

Michael flashed her a savage, hurt look. “So, you betray me again after all.”

The unfairness of it stung. She had given everything she had to keep it from coming to this. “I had nothing to do with this, Michael.”

“That’s right, she didn’t,” John said. “Didn’t think her leaving was of any great importance. She was wrong.”

“Geez,” Rodney said, “I thought for sure Kanaan was crazy. But it is him.”

Kanaan. She should have been angry, but she could not bring herself to be.

“Yes,” Michael said smoothly, settling into the cool mask he had always tried to wear around them. “I don’t know why you’re surprised. Unlike some I could mention, I have always been here. As for what’s going on—” He glanced over at Teyla, and there was a glitter of malice in his eyes. He still didn’t believe her. “Why don’t you ask her?”

She lifted her chin defiantly. He could not shame her now, and the thought was oddly comforting. She came to his side, putting herself in the line of fire, and put her hand on his arm, hoping no one could see how her fingers shook. He blinked in surprise and gazed at her as if he were trying to puzzle her out, but she turned away from him.

“I am leaving with Michael,” she said. “I must ask you not to interfere.”

“This was your trade,” Ronon said, not making it a question.

“Yes. It was he who procured the Iratus larvae to treat John. He nearly died doing it.”

John had gone paler than he had been when he came to the settlement. Rodney burst out, “Wow. It turns out it’s you who’s crazy!”

“No crazier than you leaving your entire life behind to bring him here,” she said, “or you, Ronon, about to go on a futile suicide mission for the larvae.”

Perhaps, she thought, perhaps they all were; perhaps there was something in John that inspired an insane devotion.

“Teyla,” John said, and he sounded as heartsick as she had ever known him, “I can’t let you do this.”

He had left her, left all of them, and he still thought he had the right to decide. It was exasperating and heartbreakingly sweet at once. “It is not your choice.”

“But you don’t…you don’t care about him. Do you?” He swallowed. “I know I was gone for a long time…”

“I do not,” she said. “I had already refused him. But this was the price he set on your life. I would have done much worse.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have done this.”

“I love you,” she said. It seemed very easy to say now, even though she saw Rodney’s eyes go wide. In the corner of her eye, Michael went very still. “Do you think you alone may sacrifice for those you love?”

“You won’t be able to go with him if we kill him,” Ronon observed.

She could feel Michael shift his weight. She wondered about how much of Ronon’s failure to grow up was her fault, letting his dedication to her keep him with the Athosians, always in second or third place. “Michael came here unarmed and at my invitation,” she said fiercely, linking her arm with his. “If you kill him, you will shame me and the Athosians beyond endurance. None of you will be welcome here ever again.”

“But we can’t just let you go, Teyla,” Rodney blurted, his face a moon of distress.

“You have to,” she told him. “Can you not see how—” Her voice broke on her unexpectedly. “How hard you are making this for—” She squeezed her eyes nearly shut, determined not to weep in front of Michael.

“Teyla—” he breathed, and his hand rose to her shoulder, an awkward pat. His fingers were trembling, too. She twisted her head away, but endured his touch.

They stayed locked in that pose for what felt like minutes, but could not have been more than a few seconds, before--

“Lower your weapons, all of you,” Michael said, releasing her.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Rodney said. “You’re enjoying every second of this.”

“Not at all,” he said coldly. “I had imagined I would, but you can have no idea how little pleasure this is actually giving me.”

“What are you talking about?” Ronon growled.

Michael ignored him. “Teyla.” She opened her eyes to look at him. “This—this is breaking your heart. I can feel it.”

She nodded, confused.

“I was so angry when you came to me, I thought I didn’t care, but it seems I do, after all.” That quick, painful smile again, and his eyes wandered to the gate. “I want you by my side, but not like this. Not because you love another. Not because you think it is your duty to him. I want you to—to—”

He fell silent, flushing.

She felt a huge, rushing giddiness; she was being borne up over a great void. She had been helpless before Michael’s anger, Michael’s malice—how strange that she could be saved by Michael’s pride. “Oh. I see.”

“Do you?”

“Do you what?” Rodney said. “Can someone please translate from the epic?”

She studied his expression, mouth drawn up in embarrassment, eyes on the ground again. Not just Michael’s pride. Michael’s—

“He has changed his mind,” she told him. She brushed two fingertips over Michael’s cheekbone, felt his faint shiver. “He does not want me to come.”

“Then he should probably be moving along,” Ronon said.

“Yes,” Michael recovered himself and shot a venomous look at Ronon. “I’m not particularly interested in further conversation with you. But—a word in private, Teyla.”

“No.”

“Yes,” she said, though she was afraid of what he might say. “There can be no harm in it.”

She followed Michael a few steps away, just out of earshot of the other men. “Michael…”

“I want you to promise me something,” he said.

That was a strange request at this date. A strained laugh escaped her. “If I can.”

“It is nothing so very great.” He sighed. “You must have noticed by now that you are different from the other Athosians.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are not aging as humans normally age. Your Wraith DNA will extend your life for quite some time beyond the human span.”

It was true that she had wondered at times, looking in the mirror, but—”My people have no legend of this.”

“Your people do not generally live long enough for it to be noticeable,” he said. “And you have activated certain biological pathways that none have dared to in generations. No matter what your friends die of, you are going to outlive them. When that time comes, you will need a friend. And a people who will not see you as strange to them. When that time comes—call me again.”

“If it is true.”

“It is. I have good reason to know it.” They stood facing each other awkwardly for a minute. “Why couldn’t you have lied, betrayed me again?” he burst out. “You would have made it easy for me to hurt you.”

She thought of hospital beds with restraints, nuclear explosions blossoming on the surface of the world beneath her, a cowboy hat.

“What we did to you was unforgivable, Michael,” she said. “I have only been trying not to add any more guilt to my burden.”

He shuddered all over, then caught her hand and drew it to his mouth, kissing the palm. “Oh, my queen,” he whispered. “If you only understood—but you will. I know it.”

He let her hand go as quickly as he had taken it and then backed away. He did not take his eyes off her until he had stepped through the gate.

She looked back at the little group waiting for her. Older, more battered than the last time they had been together, but still hers. She moved silently to John and laid her head on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her and squeezed her tight.

“I can’t believe Kanaan got us out of bed for nothing,” Rodney said. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be sleeping til noon.”

“Complicated,” John murmured into Teyla’s hair. “That was one way of putting it.”

“You do not agree?” she said, shifting to a more comfortable spot nestled against his chest. They had all gone back to Teyla’s hut for tea. Just as they had settled in, Halling had burst in in a panic and had been soothed. Kanaan had come in with Tagan, clearly expecting a scolding, but, thinking of what it must have cost him to turn to her team for help, Teyla had merely kissed her sleeping child tenderly and pressed Kanaan’s head to her own for a long time. The Athosians had taken Tagan off to bed after that, Halling’s hand on Kanaan’s shoulder. A half an hour later, Ronon had hauled Rodney out by the ear as he admonished, “Don’t keep him up all night!”

Ronon’s advice had made sense. They had quickly taken advantage of Teyla’s soft and well-appointed bed.

He moved on to her earlobe. “I can think of other ways I’d describe the scenario.”

“I am sorry. I did not want to burden you any more than I had to.”

“You mean, with helping?” His tone was a little wounded, but he was still nuzzling along the folds of her ear.

“I did not think you could.”

“Hey! We did, didn’t we?”

“Well…” She paused. “You were there.”

“Hey,” he protested, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned from you, it’s that sometimes just being there is help.”

She had to laugh. “True enough.” She put a hand on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin beneath the hair. “It certainly is pleasant to have you here now.”

“Pleasant, huh?”

She ignored his mock dismay. “Now that you have your life back, what do you intend to do with it?”

“Well,” he said, rolling them over a little so he could meet her eyes, “I intend to spend a great deal of it doing exactly what I’m doing now.”

“That sounds very good to me.”

“And then…there’s still a chance we can recover Atlantis, you know.” He kissed her again, and began moving against her with a more forceful intent. “It’d be a nice side project while we’re working here.”

Something else she had not let herself think of. “Careful,” she said teasingly as he mouthed at her collarbone. “Would Rodney approve?”

“To be honest,” he said, “I’m kind of more concerned about whether you do.”

John in her bed. The possibility of Atlantis in the sky again, only this time in the hands of her people. It was more than she could have hoped for a week ago, much less given herself permission to. “I do,” she said, and wrapped her arms around him. “I do.”