Title: Belonging to Night
Summary: He doesn’t say anything but he’s there. He only hopes it is enough.
Characters: John, Teyla [Kanan]
Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan?
Spoilers: Kindred pt 1 & 2.
Rating: K
Summary: He doesn’t say anything but he’s there. He only hopes it is enough.
Characters: John, Teyla [Kanan]
Pairing: John/Teyla, Teyla/Kanan?
Spoilers: Kindred pt 1 & 2.
Rating: K
Spoiler:
He can see the sadness stealing the smile from her face, despite her efforts and it saddens him. They were supposed to be here to celebrate the lives of those who’d been lost and yet. He could understand her mourning this loss because it hadn’t had a chance to live. He felt her pain like a heavy weight on his own heart, unshiftable and unchangeable. She looked up, no doubt feeling the weight of his stare and the smile she sends in his direction is almost honest. She looks away before he can return it but he continues to watch her, to try and store every nuance of her face in his memory because he thinks that maybe this time she won’t be coming back to Atlantis.
The fire was dwindling away, though the flames still licked at the oxygen in the atmosphere, burning orange in the dark night. They highlighted her golden skin and it shimmered under the warm attention, her dark eyes glittered despite her maudlin mood, her hair glinting perfectly in the night. Her cheekbones are more prominent than he’s ever seen them and he knows it’s no trick of the light. The past month has been on them all, especially her. The memory of her son that never got to see the morning sunrise is still fresh in her mind, the pain still new to her heart and it shows. He’s not sure it shows to everyone but it shows to them. Ronon had come to him concerned as had Rodney but John didn’t know what to do. She’d retreated into herself and no matter what John said or did, she remained distant, shut off, pained and it hurt him to see her so.
As the fire burns low, he watches her bid farewell to one of the last awake of her people before she stood and began moving about, touching tables and plates, chairs and bowls. He doesn’t move as he watches her, knowing that she needs this time to herself. She knows he’s there and for now, it’s enough. Through the darkness he can hear her sigh, watches as she closes her eyes as she leans heavily against the chair in front of her. Still, he watches her, quiet but there.
The moon light that cools her face is a stark contrast to the warm glow of the firelight from moments before and as she angles her head in his direction, John gasps at the transformation. She looks pale and ill, cold and lost and he is about to stand up and go to her because he knows that she’s ready for him now but there is a rustle from one of the tents and John sinks back into the darkness. Kanan approaches and she starts slightly when he touches her shoulder and John narrows his eyes as that sensation rips across his heart again. He’s concerned by the fact that she didn’t hear him approach. She turns to Kanan then, the smile slow to form on her face and John is almost glad. He can hear the quiet murmurs between them, carefully quiet so as not to rouse those on the brink of slumber. When Kanan tilts his head, John can see the lingering remnants of what Michael turned him into, despite Carson’s assurances that they would one day finally disappear completely. It’s a site he can’t quite get used to.
He lowers his eyes to the dry leave scattered around his feet as Kanan reaches out and touches her arm. It’s a gesture John is familiar with because he’s done is far too often over the past couple of months. The stillness of the night chills him and he shivers, his body shuddering with more intensity than perhaps it should. He glances up again and frowns when he sees her paused mid-step, her hand still lingering on the chair supporting her. He finds her eyes instantly, staring into his and he’s almost sure he sees remorse there but it – and she – is gone before he can be totally sure.
He sighs painfully, covers his face with his hands and closes his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what it is he feels when he sees her with Kanan; the only thing he has to compare it to is the way he felt when she told him she was pregnant and that’s not something he wants to compare anything else to. The stars above shine harshly in the inky blue sky and it’s not long before their icy eyes herd him indoors, out of reach of their scathing gaze.
The visitors tent is smaller than the others, though no less comfortable. There are thick quilts covering the not-quite-double bed and he smiles thankfully at them, relishing in the thought of wrapping himself up in them. The walls flicker with the light of several fat candles placed strategically around the room. The fire at the end of the bed kindles lowly, enough to emit heat and light and John sighs. She’s thoughtful like that.
He strips down to his boxers and tee shirt, before sliding beneath the covers and immersing himself in their warmth. He sighs and closes his eyes but he knows sleep is far off for him. He can see the flicker of the candles on his eyelids and he tucks his head further into the pillows on the bed, trying to block out their light. John admires the Athosians’ traditions, he realises as he flops onto his back and watches the shadows twist about the ceiling. He admires that, after everything they have been through, they just buckle down and try to rebuild what they lost. He admires that, even though they’ve seen what Atlantis can offer them, they choose to live in tents with candles and basins of water they heat over fires. He can’t ever imagine living like that again but he knows that he would, if he had to. The close knit family unit of the Athosians startles John because he can’t imagine knowing everyone on Earth by name though he supposes it’s not a fair comparison because he knows everyone on Atlantis by name, as well as the remaining Athosians. He’s closer to those he considers friends more now than he ever has been. Seeing what happened to the Athosians startled them all into realising they needed to care about one another more. He made more of an effort to spar, drink and immerse Ronon in human culture, while learning more about the traditions of Sateda. He and Rodney spent more time playing chess and the scientist had even taken an interest in golf, while John had taken an interest in experiments he’d never understand. He enjoyed beating Rodney to the answer with his math equations, much to the scientist dismay.
And Teyla... well, he’d not really done anything that seemed to make a difference. He ferried her from Atlantis to the settlement far, far away from the Stargate as often as she wanted – and even when she didn’t. He spent time with her people, had helped rebuild some of their settlement and even joined in their evening meals. Whenever he’d sat down at the table, stew in hand, she’d turn her eyes to him, study him and smile in that sad way that tugged at the string of his heart. He hated seeing her hurting – especially when he couldn’t do anything about it.
He turns his head when he feels a cool draft hit him and sees Teyla hovering inside his tent, her hands ringing uncertainly around one another. He closes his eyes, pretending he doesn’t see her and gives her the choice to leave. He listens intently as her feet move across the floor and he cracks an eye open when she stops. She lingers beside his bed, uncertainty tinting her features and he pulls his arm out from under the quilt and reaches out to her hand. She jerks slightly but smiles down at him tiredly.
He searches her eyes as she wraps her slender fingers around his. The loaded stare makes something inside of him quiver and he shuffles over in the bed, drops her hand and holds the quilt back. She hesitates only for a moment before shedding her long coat and sliding in beside him. He waits until she situates herself on her back, her shoulder brushing his chest before he lowers the quilt, tucks it around her shoulders and wraps his arm around her waist.
She turns away from him as the first tears leak out of her eyes and he doesn’t say anything. She reaches for his hand and he gives it to her willingly, feeling something inside of him tear as she wraps herself around his arm. He moves closer to her back, crushing her to him as he slides his other arm under neck, wrapping around her from underneath. The sob catches him off guard and he tucks his head into her neck, trying to ward off his own tears.
He doesn’t say anything but he’s there.
He only hopes that it’s enough.
The fire was dwindling away, though the flames still licked at the oxygen in the atmosphere, burning orange in the dark night. They highlighted her golden skin and it shimmered under the warm attention, her dark eyes glittered despite her maudlin mood, her hair glinting perfectly in the night. Her cheekbones are more prominent than he’s ever seen them and he knows it’s no trick of the light. The past month has been on them all, especially her. The memory of her son that never got to see the morning sunrise is still fresh in her mind, the pain still new to her heart and it shows. He’s not sure it shows to everyone but it shows to them. Ronon had come to him concerned as had Rodney but John didn’t know what to do. She’d retreated into herself and no matter what John said or did, she remained distant, shut off, pained and it hurt him to see her so.
As the fire burns low, he watches her bid farewell to one of the last awake of her people before she stood and began moving about, touching tables and plates, chairs and bowls. He doesn’t move as he watches her, knowing that she needs this time to herself. She knows he’s there and for now, it’s enough. Through the darkness he can hear her sigh, watches as she closes her eyes as she leans heavily against the chair in front of her. Still, he watches her, quiet but there.
The moon light that cools her face is a stark contrast to the warm glow of the firelight from moments before and as she angles her head in his direction, John gasps at the transformation. She looks pale and ill, cold and lost and he is about to stand up and go to her because he knows that she’s ready for him now but there is a rustle from one of the tents and John sinks back into the darkness. Kanan approaches and she starts slightly when he touches her shoulder and John narrows his eyes as that sensation rips across his heart again. He’s concerned by the fact that she didn’t hear him approach. She turns to Kanan then, the smile slow to form on her face and John is almost glad. He can hear the quiet murmurs between them, carefully quiet so as not to rouse those on the brink of slumber. When Kanan tilts his head, John can see the lingering remnants of what Michael turned him into, despite Carson’s assurances that they would one day finally disappear completely. It’s a site he can’t quite get used to.
He lowers his eyes to the dry leave scattered around his feet as Kanan reaches out and touches her arm. It’s a gesture John is familiar with because he’s done is far too often over the past couple of months. The stillness of the night chills him and he shivers, his body shuddering with more intensity than perhaps it should. He glances up again and frowns when he sees her paused mid-step, her hand still lingering on the chair supporting her. He finds her eyes instantly, staring into his and he’s almost sure he sees remorse there but it – and she – is gone before he can be totally sure.
He sighs painfully, covers his face with his hands and closes his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what it is he feels when he sees her with Kanan; the only thing he has to compare it to is the way he felt when she told him she was pregnant and that’s not something he wants to compare anything else to. The stars above shine harshly in the inky blue sky and it’s not long before their icy eyes herd him indoors, out of reach of their scathing gaze.
The visitors tent is smaller than the others, though no less comfortable. There are thick quilts covering the not-quite-double bed and he smiles thankfully at them, relishing in the thought of wrapping himself up in them. The walls flicker with the light of several fat candles placed strategically around the room. The fire at the end of the bed kindles lowly, enough to emit heat and light and John sighs. She’s thoughtful like that.
He strips down to his boxers and tee shirt, before sliding beneath the covers and immersing himself in their warmth. He sighs and closes his eyes but he knows sleep is far off for him. He can see the flicker of the candles on his eyelids and he tucks his head further into the pillows on the bed, trying to block out their light. John admires the Athosians’ traditions, he realises as he flops onto his back and watches the shadows twist about the ceiling. He admires that, after everything they have been through, they just buckle down and try to rebuild what they lost. He admires that, even though they’ve seen what Atlantis can offer them, they choose to live in tents with candles and basins of water they heat over fires. He can’t ever imagine living like that again but he knows that he would, if he had to. The close knit family unit of the Athosians startles John because he can’t imagine knowing everyone on Earth by name though he supposes it’s not a fair comparison because he knows everyone on Atlantis by name, as well as the remaining Athosians. He’s closer to those he considers friends more now than he ever has been. Seeing what happened to the Athosians startled them all into realising they needed to care about one another more. He made more of an effort to spar, drink and immerse Ronon in human culture, while learning more about the traditions of Sateda. He and Rodney spent more time playing chess and the scientist had even taken an interest in golf, while John had taken an interest in experiments he’d never understand. He enjoyed beating Rodney to the answer with his math equations, much to the scientist dismay.
And Teyla... well, he’d not really done anything that seemed to make a difference. He ferried her from Atlantis to the settlement far, far away from the Stargate as often as she wanted – and even when she didn’t. He spent time with her people, had helped rebuild some of their settlement and even joined in their evening meals. Whenever he’d sat down at the table, stew in hand, she’d turn her eyes to him, study him and smile in that sad way that tugged at the string of his heart. He hated seeing her hurting – especially when he couldn’t do anything about it.
He turns his head when he feels a cool draft hit him and sees Teyla hovering inside his tent, her hands ringing uncertainly around one another. He closes his eyes, pretending he doesn’t see her and gives her the choice to leave. He listens intently as her feet move across the floor and he cracks an eye open when she stops. She lingers beside his bed, uncertainty tinting her features and he pulls his arm out from under the quilt and reaches out to her hand. She jerks slightly but smiles down at him tiredly.
He searches her eyes as she wraps her slender fingers around his. The loaded stare makes something inside of him quiver and he shuffles over in the bed, drops her hand and holds the quilt back. She hesitates only for a moment before shedding her long coat and sliding in beside him. He waits until she situates herself on her back, her shoulder brushing his chest before he lowers the quilt, tucks it around her shoulders and wraps his arm around her waist.
She turns away from him as the first tears leak out of her eyes and he doesn’t say anything. She reaches for his hand and he gives it to her willingly, feeling something inside of him tear as she wraps herself around his arm. He moves closer to her back, crushing her to him as he slides his other arm under neck, wrapping around her from underneath. The sob catches him off guard and he tucks his head into her neck, trying to ward off his own tears.
He doesn’t say anything but he’s there.
He only hopes that it’s enough.
&
=AWESOME
&
Forever
Never mind 8-)
..... that was... just... AMAZING doesn't seem to cut it...! I loved the angst, and especially the ending was great
All I'm sayin is that itunes BETTER DARN WELL get that ep up FIRST THING tomorrow... 
Jus kidding!
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