Doppleganger Epilogue
Spoiler:
The knock at Teyla’s door came late and she had been expecting it. The news of what had transpired with Colonel Sheppard and his alien imposter had traveled quickly throughout Atlantis after his very public and brutal demise.
Standing in the hall as two technicians passed by, one telling the other the story with an enthusiastic voice and rapidly motioning hands, Teyla followed them silently listening, her heart in her throat.
When she had heard enough, she simply stopped pursuing them and laid back against the nearest wall of the hallway she was in, staring up at nothing in particular, only the images burned in her mind.
She silently scolded herself for her foolishness. She had known something was wrong, something was…off. Allowing her feelings and desires to overcome her judgment like that was something she had never done before and now the consequence was beyond anything she could have imagined.
So here she sat, at the edge of her bed staring out the moonlit window watching the waves crash against the edges of their city and the knock she knew would come was rapping gently against her door.
She rose and sighed deeply before waving at the crystals and allowing the door to open. The real John Sheppard stood before her, his hands awkwardly clasped together as he rocked back on his heels and said, “Hey,” in a sheepish voice.
“Hello John. Please come in.”
He followed her gesture and entered the dimly lit room standing just as awkwardly, if not more so, than he had been outside the door.
She let the door slide shut and turned slowly to face him, a tight smile upon her face.
“How are you?” he asked not quite meeting her eyes.
“I am fine, John. And you?”
“I’m good, a little freaked out still, but good. It’s not everyday you kill yourself and live to tell the tale,” he smiled and raked a hand through his messy hair.
She smiled a little wider. “I would imagine not.”
Silence.
John cleared his throat. “Listen, Teyla, that….thing….mentioned something about you just before…..just before I killed it.”
“I see,” she said quietly looking down at the floor. “And what did it say?”
Silence again.
John’s eyes finally rose and met hers straight on. “Just tell me Teyla……did he hurt you?”
Teyla’s mouth quivered and she used every last bit of strength to not break down right there. “No John, he did not,” she managed to say without a trembling voice.
John stepped towards her and his eyes caught at her bed from the corner of his view. Staring at it, he began to visualize that which sickened him to his very core. Part of him wanted to comfort her, support her, and the other part wanted to scream.
“How could you not know?” he said, his gaze still lingering at the bed.
She looked up, her expression changed. “What?”
He turned to her, pain in his eyes. “How could you not know it wasn’t me Teyla?”
Her eyes reflected his and she felt his desperation radiate from him like heat. “I-I made a mistake, John.”
His face tightened and twisted as he held back what he truly wanted to tell her. “I just would have thought you knew me better than that. I don’t know the things he said to you, but I know they couldn’t possibly be the things that I feel.” He started towards the door, overcome with dark jealously as he pictured the two of them together, burning at his deflated heart.
She grabbed his sleeve as he neared her. “John, please! I thought it was you!”
He stopped and stared at her, their faces close, the door just before him. His eyes pierced through hers and a desperate shine seemed to light them as he held back all the things he should have told her ages ago.
“Well, it wasn’t’,” he said intensely and he opened the door and left as tears filled his eyes.
Teyla slumped heavily against the closed door, her fingertips touching it gingerly as if he was still standing there before her and she wept.
Standing in the hall as two technicians passed by, one telling the other the story with an enthusiastic voice and rapidly motioning hands, Teyla followed them silently listening, her heart in her throat.
When she had heard enough, she simply stopped pursuing them and laid back against the nearest wall of the hallway she was in, staring up at nothing in particular, only the images burned in her mind.
She silently scolded herself for her foolishness. She had known something was wrong, something was…off. Allowing her feelings and desires to overcome her judgment like that was something she had never done before and now the consequence was beyond anything she could have imagined.
So here she sat, at the edge of her bed staring out the moonlit window watching the waves crash against the edges of their city and the knock she knew would come was rapping gently against her door.
She rose and sighed deeply before waving at the crystals and allowing the door to open. The real John Sheppard stood before her, his hands awkwardly clasped together as he rocked back on his heels and said, “Hey,” in a sheepish voice.
“Hello John. Please come in.”
He followed her gesture and entered the dimly lit room standing just as awkwardly, if not more so, than he had been outside the door.
She let the door slide shut and turned slowly to face him, a tight smile upon her face.
“How are you?” he asked not quite meeting her eyes.
“I am fine, John. And you?”
“I’m good, a little freaked out still, but good. It’s not everyday you kill yourself and live to tell the tale,” he smiled and raked a hand through his messy hair.
She smiled a little wider. “I would imagine not.”
Silence.
John cleared his throat. “Listen, Teyla, that….thing….mentioned something about you just before…..just before I killed it.”
“I see,” she said quietly looking down at the floor. “And what did it say?”
Silence again.
John’s eyes finally rose and met hers straight on. “Just tell me Teyla……did he hurt you?”
Teyla’s mouth quivered and she used every last bit of strength to not break down right there. “No John, he did not,” she managed to say without a trembling voice.
John stepped towards her and his eyes caught at her bed from the corner of his view. Staring at it, he began to visualize that which sickened him to his very core. Part of him wanted to comfort her, support her, and the other part wanted to scream.
“How could you not know?” he said, his gaze still lingering at the bed.
She looked up, her expression changed. “What?”
He turned to her, pain in his eyes. “How could you not know it wasn’t me Teyla?”
Her eyes reflected his and she felt his desperation radiate from him like heat. “I-I made a mistake, John.”
His face tightened and twisted as he held back what he truly wanted to tell her. “I just would have thought you knew me better than that. I don’t know the things he said to you, but I know they couldn’t possibly be the things that I feel.” He started towards the door, overcome with dark jealously as he pictured the two of them together, burning at his deflated heart.
She grabbed his sleeve as he neared her. “John, please! I thought it was you!”
He stopped and stared at her, their faces close, the door just before him. His eyes pierced through hers and a desperate shine seemed to light them as he held back all the things he should have told her ages ago.
“Well, it wasn’t’,” he said intensely and he opened the door and left as tears filled his eyes.
Teyla slumped heavily against the closed door, her fingertips touching it gingerly as if he was still standing there before her and she wept.
it would be interesting to see how John deals with the full ramifications...
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