Fic: Equilibrium [1/2] by alyse (NC-17, John/Rodney/Teyla)
Title: Equilibrium
Author: alyse
Rating: NC-17
Category: Threesome (John/Rodney/Teyla)
Spoilers:Set in early Season 2, spoilers through to Runner
Words: 16,600
Summary: Teyla has her team - what's left of them.
Notes: Written for carolyn_claire for posting the 1000th story to Wraithbait. Thanks to Leah for the beta.
~*~
Among those with whom Teyla's people traded , the Olem had a reputation as a dignified people. Dignity was a trait that Teyla could appreciate, at least under other circumstances. She feared, however, that she'd been a little misled; right then dignity seemed as alien a concept as many of the Atlanteans' little rituals.
Before they'd come through the Ring of the Ancestors, at the pre-mission briefing - for that was what Colonel Sheppard called it now, 'pre-mission briefing' and not 'team briefing' and the distinction hadn't passed her by - she'd tried to explain that Olem society was a little more... stratified than most planets they'd visited, but that the Olem also had a reputation for being fair traders. The Colonel hadn't said anything but had simply smiled at her, the look on his face screaming 'Genii' even if he wasn't quite foolish enough to voice it.
The smile then hadn't reached his eyes.
The smile he wore now did. It was amazing what the man could say simply with a smile. The smile this morning might have had a slightly mocking edge, but the one now was softer, more innocent. It said, quite plainly, that he was exercising great restraint and would not comment on her current predicament. Not that he needed to comment - in truth the smile said all that needed to be said.
"So..."
It appeared that her judgement about him not needing to comment was about as accurate as the Olem's reputation, and she swallowed a sigh. The amount that the man could convey with a single word was as amazing as any of his looks. She indulged herself for a moment, closing her eyes against his open amusement and requesting patience from the Ancestors.
"The Olem..."
The man could even let his posture convey his amusement, all cocked hip and fluid lines. 'Smirking', as Doctor McKay put it, and for a word she'd never heard before meeting the Atlanteans, it had now become as familiar to her as any word in her native tongue.
She sighed again and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with as much equanimity as she could muster.
"Kinda... weird rituals, don't you think?"
That innocent look, the one he aimed at her now, hadn't fooled her for a long time.
"I do not believe that this is a ritual, Colonel."
"No, no. Of course not." This time the smirk appeared clearly on his face rather than being merely hinted at by his stance. "Kind of a one off... thing."
She didn't answer him. She knew enough by then to understand that when he was in this kind of mood, indulging him would only prolong the agony. But then it wasn't necessary for her to indulge him; there was always at least one other person willing to play along.
As though reading her mind, Doctor McKay snorted with amusement on her other side.
She suppressed the urge to sigh again. She could understand their amusement even if she would like to think that she would have been better at hiding it had the roles been reversed. However, understanding that amusement and being subjected to it were two very different things. Had she been a less patient person, she might even have been considering whether to demonstrate her lack of amusement to them.
Her fingers twitched by her side as, for a single second, she indulged herself again, imagining the weight of her sticks in her hands and the startled yelp the Colonel always let out when she caught him off guard and hit him where he sat.
The momentary urge passed as she found her centre again, drawing her calm around her like a cloak. In her time as her people's negotiator, she had been asked to partake of some strange rituals indeed; more harvest festivals, it seemed sometimes, than could be accounted for by harvests. But in most cases she had not been singled out for such rituals and, on the odd occasions that she had been, she had been treated with dignity.
The Olem meant no disrespect but this... This was not dignified.
"We should..." Doctor McKay waved his finger around vaguely and when she stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye he was resolutely not looking in her direction. "Go. Mingle. Do... ritually stuff."
"We get to do ritually stuff too?"
She closed her eyes again. They were enjoying this too much, and the sun had barely risen. There was a whole day ahead of them, a whole day where she had to smile and play nice, as the Colonel would say. A day of pretending that she was something other than she was and trying her hardest not to kill either of them and leave their bodies for the scavengers.
"I hardly think that's necessary, Colonel. We're not exactly lacking in..."
Again Doctor McKay trailed off and she knew, before she'd even opened her eyes, that he would still be resolutely not looking in her direction. Some small, petty part of her said that she would feel better if that were down to embarrassment rather than, as she suspected, an unusual desire not to laugh in her face.
Doctor McKay had also recently become acquainted with her sticks and he was usually quicker to learn his lesson than the Colonel, even if he was considerably less quiet about it.
She was probably being uncharitable. Doctor McKay might be vocal about the things he didn't like, and slow to put himself directly in harm's way, but he was not a coward and not easily cowed. The truth was, they were all a little raw at the moment, and if the Colonel showed it by drilling his men relentlessly and exchanging barbs with Doctor McKay that were a little more barbed than usual, then Doctor McKay demonstrated it by being a little less abrasive than usual.
A little.
She stole a quick glance at the man standing on the other side of her. Colonel Sheppard's face was twisted into one of those expressions that he seemed to reserve for McKay. It was part amused, part curious and part encouraging. As though either of them needed any more encouragement.
"Ritual... objects?" offered Sheppard, his tone a little too bright and cheerful.
There was a snort behind them and the Colonel's smile faltered for a moment. It returned to his face, but not to his eyes. She thought that perhaps she understood. If she turned and looked, the face behind her would not be the one she wished to see.
Instead of turning, she straightened her back and looked ahead. They had already been over this - repeatedly - but perhaps it was time to remind her team of why they were there.
"The Olem -" she began.
"Have tava roots," continued Doctor McKay, his attention again fixed on his handheld device and sounding as bored as he looked, although that was preferable to him studiously avoiding looking in her direction. "Yes, yes. We know. We're here to trade for... root vegetables."
He made the words sound distasteful, as though he could not bear them in his mouth when, in fact, he had acquired a taste for the roots themselves if the way he wolfed them down at meals was any indication. It might not have been. There had been times when she'd simply watched him and wondered if he tasted anything that he ate or whether it simply slid down into his stomach without ever touching the inside of his mouth or throat.
"Of course, that little fact doesn't entirely explain why this desire to trade their tava roots with us has resulted in them requiring Teyla to acquire..."
For once he appeared to think before he spoke, and this time it was Colonel Sheppard swallowing a snort of amusement. She sighed, not bothering to hide it this time.
"The Olem are a traditional people," she began, still clinging to the remnants of her patience. She ignored Doctor McKay's snort and what sounded suspiciously like a muttered traditional perverts. "They have... their ways. And their ways involve a separation between the roles of the men of the village and the roles of the women. We should respect that."
Doctor McKay finally tucked his device back into one of the many pockets of his vest, the move snappish and fully indicative of the fact that he was about to work himself up to a full examination of why the Olem's ways were 'backwards, primitive and, oh, did I mention insane?'
He did not disappoint.
"And we're also supposed to respect the fact that the Olem won't actually negotiate with us - or rather, with you, since Elizabeth has decided, quite sensibly in my opinion, not to let Colonel Sheppard negotiate with anyone, ever again -"
"Hey!"
"Unless you're wearing something that appears to have come out of The 120 Days of Sodom."
She didn't understand the cultural significance of this reference, but she didn't need to. The meaning behind the words was amply conveyed by McKay's tone.
There was another snort from beside her and, really, she was not sure which of them was worse.
"Negotiating is believed, by the Olem, to fall within the responsibilities of their men. They take such responsibilities seriously, and they take their ways seriously. Consequently, to negotiate with me, they must treat me as an honorary man."
"Which means that in order to negotiate with them you have to wear what could best, and most charitably, be described as a strap-on. Let's not dress this up to be anything other than incredibly weird."
The snort of laughter that Colonel Sheppard let out this time was higher pitched but no less irritating, and she didn't need to look at him to know that his hand would be pressed firmly over his mouth in an attempt to hide it. She sighed again and resisted the urge to bang McKay's head against the tree behind him until he came to his senses. Or stayed quiet for more than five minutes, whichever came soonest.
But they were only on the Olem's planet until nightfall before they returned to Atlantis and she doubted that either event would happen before then, no matter how much effort she put into it.
"For them to accept me as a man, I must appear to be a man."
"Yes, because we all wander around with..." Words failed him, for which she was profoundly grateful, and he gestured towards her groin with something approaching embarrassment - a rare thing for him. "That sticking out of our trousers."
She could not resist.
"There is no reason to feel threatened, Doctor McKay."
He spluttered to a halt and stared at her speechlessly. If she turned around just then she was sure that Colonel Sheppard would have found that his shoelaces had come undone, something innocuous to explain why he'd had to double up and hide his face from their hosts, who waited for them... solemnly.
"I'm not... I didn't... I'm not!"
She gave him a sweet smile, with barely a hint of teeth behind it.
"Of course not, Doctor. Which is why we are going to stop... 'discussing' this, and not keep our hosts waiting any longer than necessary."
"Good plan."
McKay merely looked between them, still speechless, while Colonel Sheppard adjusted his vest and swallowed the last of his amusement down. When the Colonel met her eyes again, his were bright with mirth - and she had missed that recently - but his expression was entirely affable.
"Okay, guys. Let's go... negotiate."
"I'm not..."
"Rodney..."
"There's no reason... I'm not jealous. That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."
"Rodney, let it go."
"I notice you didn't say anything."
"Rodney..."
She ignored them, and strode off towards their hosts, her face already assuming her most diplomatic and serene expression. She did not get the last word very often, but she fully intended to enjoy each and every situation in which she did to its maximum.
She tried not to notice the weight in front of her, or how it moved when she did, picking up the rhythm of her steps and pressing against her, a constant reminder of her manly status.
Perhaps it was no wonder that Atlantean men were so distracted all of the time, if this was what they had to contend with.
~*~
Doctor Weir had once described dealing with the Colonel and Doctor McKay when they were in one of these moods as being akin to trying to herd ca'ats. It was another cultural reference that Teyla hadn't quite understood and Doctor Weir's rather embarrassed attempts to explain the saying had not enlightened her any.
She had no qualms about raising the subject with her team mates - it had been obvious from Doctor Weir's explanation that the phrase was neither complimentary nor overly insulting, but merely exasperated and probably all too accurate. It would not hurt to remind her team mates that perhaps they should curb the worst tendencies of their joking behaviour.
Aiden had laughed, hiding it rapidly behind his hand when Colonel - then Major - Sheppard raised an eyebrow in his direction. Doctor McKay had once again not been attending closely to her, and proceeded to launch into an explanation of ca'ats that seemed to consist of extolling their virtues as he saw them. Independent, self-interested and loud and demanding when wanting to be fed.
She had understood the attraction the creatures held for him even before Colonel Sheppard's muttered comment about people growing to be like their pets. However, she felt that perhaps they could have emphasised to her the ability of ca'ats to be easily distracted by bright, shiny objects. Or even objects that were not as shiny.
"Gentlemen."
Doctor Weir's voice was calm but there was that tiny crease between her brows that said that she was rapidly losing patience with them. Teyla could understand why. They were as fidgety as children who had been into the food stores and gorged on sweet things.
Thankfully Colonel Sheppard took note, straightening slightly in his chair and treating Doctor Weir to a look of complete innocence. It did not fool Teyla and she doubted that Doctor Weir was fooled either.
"I take it then that the negotiations went as well as could be expected?"
"Yes, yes..." Doctor McKay was deep into his third cup of coffee, something that might go some way to explain why he was so fidgety. "As I believe we've already said. Tava beans negotiated for, natives appeased, no one shot, mutilated or injured in anyway, although I do think I'm going to get blisters from that hike back to the Gate, and is it any wonder when these boots never fit properly? Now, was that all? Because time is precious, as I'm sure you already know, Elizabeth, and I need to see what havoc has been wrecked in the labs while I've been absent, and that might be a slightly higher priority than rehashing what was, after all, a, well, not exactly routine but hardly dangerous mission and if I may say so a considerable waste of our talents."
He barely paused for breath before diving back into his cup of coffee while simultaneously eyeing up the carafe in the middle of the table speculatively.
"It's the 'not exactly routine' bit that's worrying me, Rodney," Elizabeth interjected gently, moving the carafe closer to her, which put it out of Doctor McKay's immediate reach. She made the move so smoothly, topping up her own barely diminished cup, that if Teyla hadn't caught her eye just then she would have taken an oath that it had been entirely innocent.
"What?" Momentarily thwarted, Doctor McKay failed to notice the glare sent in his direction by Colonel Sheppard, his gaze fixed firmly on the vessel that now stood out of his reach.
"Honestly, Elizabeth. It went fine."
Colonel Sheppard's most innocent look failed to work on Doctor Weir this time as well.
"Fine?"
"Fine, great, dandy. Nothing went wrong. Is that enough information?" Doctor McKay's nails beat a fast rhythm on the hard surface of the table. "And can you pass the coffee?"
She ignored him, raising her eyebrow a little sceptically at the Colonel. It appeared that Teyla was not the only one who had picked up that habit.
"'Fine.' Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me everything?"
"Elizabeth, I'm wounded."
"Huh."
"I wouldn't keep anything back that you... needed to know about."
The eyebrow rose a little more.
"What about the things that you don't think I need to know about? Do I get to make a judgement about what I should or should not know? This isn't exactly reassuring, John."
Doctor McKay spoke around his sandwich. "I promise that Colonel Sheppard didn't offer anyone nuclear weapons this time."
"Well, that's... not exactly very reassuring, Rodney."
"No weaponry of any sort."
"What McKay is trying to say," Colonel Sheppard interrupted, straightening in his chair from his customary slouch and glaring at Doctor McKay in a way that finally got the man's attention, at least until McKay inhaled and appeared to swallow sandwich crumbs the wrong way, "is that the negotiations went absolutely fine. Teyla handled the Olem with aplomb-"
"Do you even know what aplomb means?" interrupted McKay, who appeared to have recovered from his temporary coughing fit. The Colonel ignored him and ploughed on.
"- and we didn't promise them anything that we weren't supposed to. And some of us," another glare at McKay, "even managed to keep our mouths shut this time about our ability to build nuclear weapons."
"And what aren't you telling me?"
It was not surprising that Doctor Weir was not reassured by their guilty expressions as they glanced at each other. It was time to step in.
"The Olem's customs in regards to negotiating are a little... different from our own."
Doctor Weir rubbed that small crease between her brows wearily.
"Please tell me that no nudity was involved this time."
"Oh, come on, Elizabeth. That was one time, and it was so not our fault," Sheppard protested. She gave him a look. "No nudity was involved, I swear."
"Well, not exactly."
This time Teyla joined the Colonel in expressing her displeasure at Doctor McKay's interruption with a look.
"Not exactly?"
"No one was required to remove any clothing, Doctor Weir," she hastened to interject, before McKay could add to Doctor Weir's stress. "The Olem merely have rather... defined roles for the men and women within their society. As it is the men who negotiate, I needed to wear a symbol of manhood before I could be permitted to barter."
"A symbol of manhood..."
This time Doctor Weir's expression was one of interest rather than near dread, as her natural curiosity about the beliefs and customs of others took hold.
Teyla timed her reply carefully.
"I believe that Doctor McKay referred to it as a 'strap-on'."
Said Doctor McKay's coffee was spat across the desk. She sat back, not bothering to hide her own smirk as she turned her head to share her amusement with Aiden.
Ronon's face stared impassively back at her.
It still came as a shock, and it still hurt more than she could have imagined, but she swallowed the pain down and turned her attention back to the three clustered at the other end of the table.
"I'm... sorry?" Doctor Weir was saying, her eyes wide and her gaze sliding slowly between the Colonel and Doctor McKay, as though seeking confirmation that this was a joke at her expense.
Teyla regretted her comment now, although she'd never quite understood the Atlanteans' embarrassment when it came to sharing pleasure. Thankfully, Colonel Sheppard stepped in at that point, barely managing to hide his amusement, and she was able to relax, letting the familiarity of the banter and the man's mannerisms to soothe away the sharp edges of her grief.
She was pragmatic - she'd had to be, growing up under the constant shadow of the Wraith - and, for all that her loss of Aiden was raw and sharp edged, she still had the remaining members of her team. Perhaps, in time, she would grow to view Ronon as such.
"That would be the 'symbol of manhood'," Colonel Sheppard was saying. "The Olem called it a... danny."
"Danaii," she corrected.
"... Oh." It was obvious that Doctor Weir didn't quite know whether to be severe with them or give way to her own amusement. "That... must have been... odd?"
She looked at Teyla, as though now seeking her reassurance. When her path had first crossed that of the Atlanteans, she hadn't known what to make of Doctor Weir and her slow, sometimes cloying concern, but in time it had become clear that however polished the act was, underneath there was genuine feeling, even if sometimes it was a little brittle.
She understood that brittle feeling too well.
"I have... seldom been in a stranger situation, this is true. But the Olem are good people and had no intention of making me feel uncomfortable. This was a concession they were willing to offer us so that they could still comply with their requirements while meeting ours. I think that they should be respected for that."
"I'm sure you're right." There was no hiding the small smile that was now playing around Elizabeth's lips as she weighed up Teyla's words in the same way she weighed everything. "But I would imagine that it must have been quite a... strange experience, nonetheless."
"I... have not been asked to do such a thing before, that is true. But the Olem have much to offer us and it was a simple request to comply with. I look forward to the future benefits trading will bring both our peoples. The Olem are famed for their skills in weaving, pottery and leatherwork, and those talents will never come amiss."
That piqued Colonel Sheppard's interest.
"I didn't see any kiln works, or signs of industry like that, although I guess they'd have to have them. It seemed mostly farming. Did we miss something?"
She was not surprised by how much the Colonel had taken in during their sojourn in the village, even though none of that had shown on the surface. He was very adept at observing while appearing to not pay any attention whatsoever.
"No energy readings of note," Doctor McKay offered around yet another mouthful of coffee. Sheppard acknowledged this with a small nod, and she was aware enough of the undercurrents that underpinned so many of the Atlanteans interactions with others to determine that the Colonel's first concern had been what had been hidden away.
"You missed nothing, Colonel. Such activities are small in nature and are located at the women's village."
"The women have their own village?" Once again, Doctor Weir's tone conveyed her fascination.
"Yes, further from the Stargate, deeper in the woods."
"And which we weren't allowed to visit, being men and not having symbols of womanhood..." Colonel Sheppard's voice trailed off as his face assumed one of those strangely mobile expressions of his, all confusion and amusement and chagrin at once.
"Huh." McKay paused with his cup at his lips, staring into space. "The women are the ones who make leather goods? That puts a whole new slant on some things."
Colonel Sheppard ducked his head in response but not before she caught sight of his telltale smirk.
"I think we're getting a little off topic again, gentlemen," Elizabeth said briskly, sharing a look with Teyla that spoke volumes. "And Teyla, while I appreciate that the Olem may have other aesthetic goods that they can offer us, we really need to concentrate on locating sources of local produce to supplement the stores that the Daedalus brings us rather than becoming too reliant on them. We're not quite at the point where we need to think longer term than that."
"I was not thinking of the Atlanteans' needs, Doctor Weir," she reminded the other woman gently. "My people do need such goods and we would be willing to trade with the Olem for them."
She held Weir's gaze, thankful that the other woman didn't immediately offer such items from the Atlanteans' own stocks. The Athosians had their pride and had never looked to others to provide what they could barter for honestly, and it appeared that Doctor Weir was finally grasping that.
"Of course. Just let us know when you would like to use the Gate, so that we can schedule a return trip. And, who knows. It may be that there comes a time that we need to widen our own trading pool."
It was a small concession, and she took it in the spirit in which it was offered, inclining her head gracefully.
"And I'm sure that if that day ever comes, Elizabeth, you will step... manfully into the breach. And if you need a manhood, I'm sure Teyla would lend you hers. Since the Olem decided that as new bosom-buddy trading partners, she'd need it again and gave it to her."
Doctor Weir raised an eyebrow at McKay, but it hardly dampened his smirk. Or Colonel Sheppard's, who leant closer to McKay and murmured something that sounded like, "Bosom buddies?"
She couldn't resist, and wondered anew how much influence they were having on her own behaviour.
"I'm sure that if Doctor Weir needs to enter into negotiations with the Olem, that they will bestow upon her a... manhood fitting of her status." She held Elizabeth's gaze so that it was clear that she was not the one being mocked. A small smile curled one corner of Doctor Weir's mouth, which was the only indication she needed that her message had been received and understood.
Colonel Sheppard swallowed down what could only have been the beginnings of a laugh before turning to Doctor Weir, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I don't know. I thought Teyla's was... um..."
"Oh, for God's sake," McKay interrupted, his face drawn into a familiar scowl. "I was not, repeat not in any way, shape or form intimidated by Teyla's fake penis."
The Colonel's smirk merely deepened as he leant closer to Doctor Weir, his body language suggesting that he was sharing a confidence even though his face was turned towards McKay and his eyes never left McKay's face. "It was quite impressive."
"Not that impressive," rumbled Ronon from beside her, the first observation he'd made throughout the briefing.
Four pairs of eyes turned in his direction, to meet an expression that was most definitely a smirk.
It appeared that Colonel Sheppard's influence was spreading.
"Okay..." Doctor Weir said, drawing the word out slowly as she once again met Teyla's eyes, the look in her own clearly signalling her amusement. "Once again, we're veering off topic and once again, thank you for sharing your observations with me, gentlemen." She almost made the words sound genuine - almost - but the expression on her face gave her away, equal parts amusement and exasperation.
The dismissal was clear, and she inclined her head again, rising smoothly to her feet as her team did likewise, McKay gulping down the last dregs of his coffee and eyeing the pot longingly.
She watched him bustle out, brow already creased and hands already twitching as he worked out what needed to be done, muttering under his breath about who was likely to need reprimanding for work carried out in his absence and whose work could wait to be reviewed. She knew him well enough by now to not even need the words that spilled so readily from that attractively crooked mouth to know what was going on his head. There was a strange comfort in that, even if it did feel some days like herding ca'ats.
The Colonel, as always, trailed out in McKay's wake, hands in his pockets and a smile still playing around his lips. That expression was as familiar to her by now as McKay's ever present frown.
Doctor Weir followed them, datapad clutched in one hand, her expression sliding towards to distraction even as she turned her head towards Teyla for a brief goodbye smile. By the time Doctor Weir had reached the doorway, she was fully engrossed in the reports scrolling across the screen. The back of her neck shone palely in Atlantis' light as she navigated her way smoothly out of the room despite the fact that her attention was focused downwards.
All that remained was the unfamiliar.
Ronon Dex was watching her. She did not know him well enough yet to read the expression on his face, to know what thoughts, if any, spun through his head. The only thing that she was sure of was that they would be nothing like the thoughts that went through Aiden's head - had gone through Aiden's head.
She could not imagine what thoughts raged in Ford's head now. For all that she'd touched the minds of the Wraith, it had been like looking through an ill-made window; distorted and unreal, muted by distance and completely alien.
The hunger had been real though, had curled through her and gripped her, coming through like the cold frost and freezing her where she pressed too closely to the glass. That hunger would be in Aiden now, eating out his soul piece by piece, never to be entirely sated.
Never to be entirely human.
Dex was still watching her, his expression growing curious. It brought her back from the dark place she'd been inside her head. "Yes?" she asked, keeping her voice low and even.
He shook his head, like an animal shaking out its pelt, the move unconscious and speaking of the power that lurked within him.
"Got time?"
"Of course," she said, thinking longingly of following her team mates - her other team mates - but not permitting any of that to show. "Was there something you needed?"
"To fight," he said simply. His directness was something that was easy to get used to, almost a relief after days of having to couch things diplomatically and considerably less clearly. "You up for it?"
She once again raised her eyebrow, and caught the answering smirk.
"Of course."
It would be a relief to let go for a while, to answer his directness with a directness of her own. There was an ease to be found in losing herself in the rhythm of battle, and she longed for it suddenly, for something with its own clear and simple rules.
And perhaps, she told that small part of her that whispered of responsibility, she would learn more about this man who could never take Aiden's place.
~*~
The subtle shift in Dex's body told her which way he would lunge. She turned, twisted and his foot grazed her side instead of taking her down as intended.
Dex learnt from his mistakes, she allowed him that much; at least on the battlefield. She was still reserving judgement on his ability to learn off it.
He rocked from side to side, eyes watching her from beneath a tangle of hair. She placed her weight on her back leg, tightened her grip on her fighting sticks and waited him out.
She didn't have to wait long, and this time there was no warning. She wasn't quite quick enough to avoid the foot that connected, hard, against her thigh. She stumbled, and he was on her, his grip tightening on her arms as he attempted to catch her off balance and throw her to the mat.
She let him, using the momentum the move gave her to roll smoothly away. She took a certain grim satisfaction in kicking him in the face as she did so, and felt no need to pull the blow back at the last instant as she did with Colonel Sheppard. When he rose to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, it came away red. He was still watching her, but more warily now, and she took a certain grim satisfaction in that too. She doubted that he would be quite so quick to underestimate her in future.
She shifted her stance again, a subtle invitation to him to try something else. She felt the stretch of it along her thigh but she let no discomfort show on her face. She would show no weakness to this opponent; she was not so foolish as to expect any quarter and she would give none.
It ached though; Dex was obviously not one to pull his blows either and she would have to finish this quickly before her muscles stiffened and slowed her down or it would be her body on the mat.
The knowledge made her reckless, far more reckless than was her wont. She launched into a flurry of blows that she would have chastised the Colonel for making. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her more than she realised.
The moves left her left flank open and he took the opportunity it offered, landing a blow before she could dance away. She stumbled, recovered, continued; blow after blow after blow.
He blocked most of them, leaving his arms to take the brunt as he tried to land his own blows. He seemed to prefer to fight with his body rather than with the sticks, using it both as offence and defence, and she incorporated that knowledge into the fluidity of her moves.
She had always preferred to use her wits, and they didn't let her down. She landed a blow across his hand, loosening his grip, and was already moving before he could recover. His stick was kicked across the room, his legs kicked out from under him - and while that hurt, she moved smoothly through the pain - and her staff was at his throat before he could react.
She stood over him, chest burning with exertion, holding his gaze steadily while the sweat slid down her back, and waited for him to yield.
Or perhaps not. He may not have yet had his fill of battle but for once he seemed inclined to caution and, after holding her gaze for long moments, he nodded once, briefly, and she could finally relax.
The muscles in her thigh were cramping, but she refused to limp as she moved away, setting her face as still as stone as she inclined her head gracefully to acknowledge him.
She was not foolish enough to take her eyes from him as she wiped her face and neck with a towel, and tried not to resent the way he rose easily to his feet. He was too proud to have yielded to her unless she had won their bout fair and square, as the Colonel would say, and she was too proud to let him, and so she read no more into it.
He was still watching her, a light in his eye and his head tilted inquisitively. She raised her chin proudly, and raised her eyebrow as well, another thing she may have picked up from Sheppard.
"Yes?" She kept her voice cool.
"You fight well."
She wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be flattering - and the idea that Dex would choose to flatter her was a disturbing one. She refused to give him the satisfaction, still holding his eyes calmly as she replied, "As do you."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "You teaching the Atlanteans those moves?"
She nodded, wiping the towel over her neck and still not taking her eyes off him. He reminded her sometimes of the reptiles on Athos - deceptively slow looking until they struck. They were the one element of her home that she found she did not miss after the move to a new world.
"Good. They could use it."
If he wanted to irritate her, he failed. It had been a long time since she had risen to childish insults, and she had no intention of doing so now.
"It is a fair trade. They have taught my people many things."
For some reason this seemed to amuse him, his lips curling up as he peered at her from beneath lowered brows.
"Yeah."
There was a tone to his voice that she couldn't quite place, something that may have been mocking and knowing all at the same time. Or perhaps she was misjudging him, casting her own unease in his direction and finding it reflected back at her. She didn't dignify him with an answer, but she wasn't foolish enough to turn away from him entirely while she reached into her bag for a cloth to wipe the sweat from her face and neck. She was aware, however, of his eyes tracking her movements as he stood there, managing to loom without ever moving a muscle.
When she rose to her feet again, his eyes had left her and were focused on the opening to her bag. She couldn't help it; she dropped her own eyes in that direction, relying on her other senses to warn her if he moved towards her.
It was not difficult to guess what had caught his attention.
"I did not need that in order to win this time." She could not help her tone, which was arch and too knowing, especially given what was resting on top of the contents of her bag.
He smirked, and it was beyond strange seeing Colonel Sheppard's expression on his face. "Never said you did."
She cocked her eyebrow, made her expression as playful as her tone had been. "Even the Olem do not view ability in battle as belonging solely to the men."
He moved closer to her, and she could smell the slight tang of sweat rising from his body. It wasn't unpleasant, but it felt subtly wrong somehow. The Athosians and the Atlanteans both had a different scent - the Athosians of the sweet spices rubbed into the seams of their garments when made, an ancient blessing. And the Atlanteans always had a faint trace of something else, some mixture that reminded her of the scent in their labs, harsh and chemical and strange. The first time she'd used their soap, she'd smelt that same scent rising from her own skin. It had left her feeling on edge and uneasy, as though she'd lost the last connection to her people and had taken on the Atlantean mantle entirely. Until she had been able to wash away the last trace of it, the separation from her people had hurt anew.
Ronon, however, smelt of nothing but himself and that merely reminded her of what else had been lost.
"Can't afford to."
He was still too close to her but she didn't back away. She seldom backed away from a challenge if the odds were in her favour, and sometimes when they were not.
He was still looking into her bag, and she watched a small smile curl the corners of his mouth. She didn't give him the satisfaction of asking, though, any more than she had been willing to give him the satisfaction of beating her while sparring. She waited him out instead. She had always been patient, and these days her patience was well honed.
He rocked back on his heels, a subtle shift in position that once again told her to expect a jab. "Don't think you could have won with that anyway." There was a light in his eyes still, some invitation extended to her to share this joke, and Ronon seldom made jokes. Yet. She suspected that he was in many ways as reserved as the Colonel, although the Colonel showed his reserve by making jokes and Ronon by making none. "It's not as impressive as mine."
She didn't smile, didn't twitch, just raised one eyebrow, haughty as any leader.
This time his smile was broader, and it distracted her enough that the sudden tap of his sticks against the ones still loosely held in her hand came as a surprise.
"Hasn't got the reach."
She allowed herself a small smile of amusement of that, acknowledging a blow well aimed and inclined her head again as he moved back, just enough to give her room to breathe. "I have enjoyed our sparring today. Thank you."
He didn't answer, but she was growing used to that. Instead, he nodded again and turned away, hefting the sticks in his hand as though balancing their weight. Perhaps he was; like her he seemed seldom still, always aware of what was to hand and what could be used.
She dropped her eyes to her bag again as he left, eyeing it thoughtfully before wrapping her sticks in her towel and stowing them carefully inside.
~*~
Continued in Part Two.
Author: alyse
Rating: NC-17
Category: Threesome (John/Rodney/Teyla)
Spoilers:Set in early Season 2, spoilers through to Runner
Words: 16,600
Summary: Teyla has her team - what's left of them.
Notes: Written for carolyn_claire for posting the 1000th story to Wraithbait. Thanks to Leah for the beta.
~*~
Among those with whom Teyla's people traded , the Olem had a reputation as a dignified people. Dignity was a trait that Teyla could appreciate, at least under other circumstances. She feared, however, that she'd been a little misled; right then dignity seemed as alien a concept as many of the Atlanteans' little rituals.
Before they'd come through the Ring of the Ancestors, at the pre-mission briefing - for that was what Colonel Sheppard called it now, 'pre-mission briefing' and not 'team briefing' and the distinction hadn't passed her by - she'd tried to explain that Olem society was a little more... stratified than most planets they'd visited, but that the Olem also had a reputation for being fair traders. The Colonel hadn't said anything but had simply smiled at her, the look on his face screaming 'Genii' even if he wasn't quite foolish enough to voice it.
The smile then hadn't reached his eyes.
The smile he wore now did. It was amazing what the man could say simply with a smile. The smile this morning might have had a slightly mocking edge, but the one now was softer, more innocent. It said, quite plainly, that he was exercising great restraint and would not comment on her current predicament. Not that he needed to comment - in truth the smile said all that needed to be said.
"So..."
It appeared that her judgement about him not needing to comment was about as accurate as the Olem's reputation, and she swallowed a sigh. The amount that the man could convey with a single word was as amazing as any of his looks. She indulged herself for a moment, closing her eyes against his open amusement and requesting patience from the Ancestors.
"The Olem..."
The man could even let his posture convey his amusement, all cocked hip and fluid lines. 'Smirking', as Doctor McKay put it, and for a word she'd never heard before meeting the Atlanteans, it had now become as familiar to her as any word in her native tongue.
She sighed again and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze with as much equanimity as she could muster.
"Kinda... weird rituals, don't you think?"
That innocent look, the one he aimed at her now, hadn't fooled her for a long time.
"I do not believe that this is a ritual, Colonel."
"No, no. Of course not." This time the smirk appeared clearly on his face rather than being merely hinted at by his stance. "Kind of a one off... thing."
She didn't answer him. She knew enough by then to understand that when he was in this kind of mood, indulging him would only prolong the agony. But then it wasn't necessary for her to indulge him; there was always at least one other person willing to play along.
As though reading her mind, Doctor McKay snorted with amusement on her other side.
She suppressed the urge to sigh again. She could understand their amusement even if she would like to think that she would have been better at hiding it had the roles been reversed. However, understanding that amusement and being subjected to it were two very different things. Had she been a less patient person, she might even have been considering whether to demonstrate her lack of amusement to them.
Her fingers twitched by her side as, for a single second, she indulged herself again, imagining the weight of her sticks in her hands and the startled yelp the Colonel always let out when she caught him off guard and hit him where he sat.
The momentary urge passed as she found her centre again, drawing her calm around her like a cloak. In her time as her people's negotiator, she had been asked to partake of some strange rituals indeed; more harvest festivals, it seemed sometimes, than could be accounted for by harvests. But in most cases she had not been singled out for such rituals and, on the odd occasions that she had been, she had been treated with dignity.
The Olem meant no disrespect but this... This was not dignified.
"We should..." Doctor McKay waved his finger around vaguely and when she stole a glance at him out of the corner of her eye he was resolutely not looking in her direction. "Go. Mingle. Do... ritually stuff."
"We get to do ritually stuff too?"
She closed her eyes again. They were enjoying this too much, and the sun had barely risen. There was a whole day ahead of them, a whole day where she had to smile and play nice, as the Colonel would say. A day of pretending that she was something other than she was and trying her hardest not to kill either of them and leave their bodies for the scavengers.
"I hardly think that's necessary, Colonel. We're not exactly lacking in..."
Again Doctor McKay trailed off and she knew, before she'd even opened her eyes, that he would still be resolutely not looking in her direction. Some small, petty part of her said that she would feel better if that were down to embarrassment rather than, as she suspected, an unusual desire not to laugh in her face.
Doctor McKay had also recently become acquainted with her sticks and he was usually quicker to learn his lesson than the Colonel, even if he was considerably less quiet about it.
She was probably being uncharitable. Doctor McKay might be vocal about the things he didn't like, and slow to put himself directly in harm's way, but he was not a coward and not easily cowed. The truth was, they were all a little raw at the moment, and if the Colonel showed it by drilling his men relentlessly and exchanging barbs with Doctor McKay that were a little more barbed than usual, then Doctor McKay demonstrated it by being a little less abrasive than usual.
A little.
She stole a quick glance at the man standing on the other side of her. Colonel Sheppard's face was twisted into one of those expressions that he seemed to reserve for McKay. It was part amused, part curious and part encouraging. As though either of them needed any more encouragement.
"Ritual... objects?" offered Sheppard, his tone a little too bright and cheerful.
There was a snort behind them and the Colonel's smile faltered for a moment. It returned to his face, but not to his eyes. She thought that perhaps she understood. If she turned and looked, the face behind her would not be the one she wished to see.
Instead of turning, she straightened her back and looked ahead. They had already been over this - repeatedly - but perhaps it was time to remind her team of why they were there.
"The Olem -" she began.
"Have tava roots," continued Doctor McKay, his attention again fixed on his handheld device and sounding as bored as he looked, although that was preferable to him studiously avoiding looking in her direction. "Yes, yes. We know. We're here to trade for... root vegetables."
He made the words sound distasteful, as though he could not bear them in his mouth when, in fact, he had acquired a taste for the roots themselves if the way he wolfed them down at meals was any indication. It might not have been. There had been times when she'd simply watched him and wondered if he tasted anything that he ate or whether it simply slid down into his stomach without ever touching the inside of his mouth or throat.
"Of course, that little fact doesn't entirely explain why this desire to trade their tava roots with us has resulted in them requiring Teyla to acquire..."
For once he appeared to think before he spoke, and this time it was Colonel Sheppard swallowing a snort of amusement. She sighed, not bothering to hide it this time.
"The Olem are a traditional people," she began, still clinging to the remnants of her patience. She ignored Doctor McKay's snort and what sounded suspiciously like a muttered traditional perverts. "They have... their ways. And their ways involve a separation between the roles of the men of the village and the roles of the women. We should respect that."
Doctor McKay finally tucked his device back into one of the many pockets of his vest, the move snappish and fully indicative of the fact that he was about to work himself up to a full examination of why the Olem's ways were 'backwards, primitive and, oh, did I mention insane?'
He did not disappoint.
"And we're also supposed to respect the fact that the Olem won't actually negotiate with us - or rather, with you, since Elizabeth has decided, quite sensibly in my opinion, not to let Colonel Sheppard negotiate with anyone, ever again -"
"Hey!"
"Unless you're wearing something that appears to have come out of The 120 Days of Sodom."
She didn't understand the cultural significance of this reference, but she didn't need to. The meaning behind the words was amply conveyed by McKay's tone.
There was another snort from beside her and, really, she was not sure which of them was worse.
"Negotiating is believed, by the Olem, to fall within the responsibilities of their men. They take such responsibilities seriously, and they take their ways seriously. Consequently, to negotiate with me, they must treat me as an honorary man."
"Which means that in order to negotiate with them you have to wear what could best, and most charitably, be described as a strap-on. Let's not dress this up to be anything other than incredibly weird."
The snort of laughter that Colonel Sheppard let out this time was higher pitched but no less irritating, and she didn't need to look at him to know that his hand would be pressed firmly over his mouth in an attempt to hide it. She sighed again and resisted the urge to bang McKay's head against the tree behind him until he came to his senses. Or stayed quiet for more than five minutes, whichever came soonest.
But they were only on the Olem's planet until nightfall before they returned to Atlantis and she doubted that either event would happen before then, no matter how much effort she put into it.
"For them to accept me as a man, I must appear to be a man."
"Yes, because we all wander around with..." Words failed him, for which she was profoundly grateful, and he gestured towards her groin with something approaching embarrassment - a rare thing for him. "That sticking out of our trousers."
She could not resist.
"There is no reason to feel threatened, Doctor McKay."
He spluttered to a halt and stared at her speechlessly. If she turned around just then she was sure that Colonel Sheppard would have found that his shoelaces had come undone, something innocuous to explain why he'd had to double up and hide his face from their hosts, who waited for them... solemnly.
"I'm not... I didn't... I'm not!"
She gave him a sweet smile, with barely a hint of teeth behind it.
"Of course not, Doctor. Which is why we are going to stop... 'discussing' this, and not keep our hosts waiting any longer than necessary."
"Good plan."
McKay merely looked between them, still speechless, while Colonel Sheppard adjusted his vest and swallowed the last of his amusement down. When the Colonel met her eyes again, his were bright with mirth - and she had missed that recently - but his expression was entirely affable.
"Okay, guys. Let's go... negotiate."
"I'm not..."
"Rodney..."
"There's no reason... I'm not jealous. That's the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."
"Rodney, let it go."
"I notice you didn't say anything."
"Rodney..."
She ignored them, and strode off towards their hosts, her face already assuming her most diplomatic and serene expression. She did not get the last word very often, but she fully intended to enjoy each and every situation in which she did to its maximum.
She tried not to notice the weight in front of her, or how it moved when she did, picking up the rhythm of her steps and pressing against her, a constant reminder of her manly status.
Perhaps it was no wonder that Atlantean men were so distracted all of the time, if this was what they had to contend with.
~*~
Doctor Weir had once described dealing with the Colonel and Doctor McKay when they were in one of these moods as being akin to trying to herd ca'ats. It was another cultural reference that Teyla hadn't quite understood and Doctor Weir's rather embarrassed attempts to explain the saying had not enlightened her any.
She had no qualms about raising the subject with her team mates - it had been obvious from Doctor Weir's explanation that the phrase was neither complimentary nor overly insulting, but merely exasperated and probably all too accurate. It would not hurt to remind her team mates that perhaps they should curb the worst tendencies of their joking behaviour.
Aiden had laughed, hiding it rapidly behind his hand when Colonel - then Major - Sheppard raised an eyebrow in his direction. Doctor McKay had once again not been attending closely to her, and proceeded to launch into an explanation of ca'ats that seemed to consist of extolling their virtues as he saw them. Independent, self-interested and loud and demanding when wanting to be fed.
She had understood the attraction the creatures held for him even before Colonel Sheppard's muttered comment about people growing to be like their pets. However, she felt that perhaps they could have emphasised to her the ability of ca'ats to be easily distracted by bright, shiny objects. Or even objects that were not as shiny.
"Gentlemen."
Doctor Weir's voice was calm but there was that tiny crease between her brows that said that she was rapidly losing patience with them. Teyla could understand why. They were as fidgety as children who had been into the food stores and gorged on sweet things.
Thankfully Colonel Sheppard took note, straightening slightly in his chair and treating Doctor Weir to a look of complete innocence. It did not fool Teyla and she doubted that Doctor Weir was fooled either.
"I take it then that the negotiations went as well as could be expected?"
"Yes, yes..." Doctor McKay was deep into his third cup of coffee, something that might go some way to explain why he was so fidgety. "As I believe we've already said. Tava beans negotiated for, natives appeased, no one shot, mutilated or injured in anyway, although I do think I'm going to get blisters from that hike back to the Gate, and is it any wonder when these boots never fit properly? Now, was that all? Because time is precious, as I'm sure you already know, Elizabeth, and I need to see what havoc has been wrecked in the labs while I've been absent, and that might be a slightly higher priority than rehashing what was, after all, a, well, not exactly routine but hardly dangerous mission and if I may say so a considerable waste of our talents."
He barely paused for breath before diving back into his cup of coffee while simultaneously eyeing up the carafe in the middle of the table speculatively.
"It's the 'not exactly routine' bit that's worrying me, Rodney," Elizabeth interjected gently, moving the carafe closer to her, which put it out of Doctor McKay's immediate reach. She made the move so smoothly, topping up her own barely diminished cup, that if Teyla hadn't caught her eye just then she would have taken an oath that it had been entirely innocent.
"What?" Momentarily thwarted, Doctor McKay failed to notice the glare sent in his direction by Colonel Sheppard, his gaze fixed firmly on the vessel that now stood out of his reach.
"Honestly, Elizabeth. It went fine."
Colonel Sheppard's most innocent look failed to work on Doctor Weir this time as well.
"Fine?"
"Fine, great, dandy. Nothing went wrong. Is that enough information?" Doctor McKay's nails beat a fast rhythm on the hard surface of the table. "And can you pass the coffee?"
She ignored him, raising her eyebrow a little sceptically at the Colonel. It appeared that Teyla was not the only one who had picked up that habit.
"'Fine.' Why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me everything?"
"Elizabeth, I'm wounded."
"Huh."
"I wouldn't keep anything back that you... needed to know about."
The eyebrow rose a little more.
"What about the things that you don't think I need to know about? Do I get to make a judgement about what I should or should not know? This isn't exactly reassuring, John."
Doctor McKay spoke around his sandwich. "I promise that Colonel Sheppard didn't offer anyone nuclear weapons this time."
"Well, that's... not exactly very reassuring, Rodney."
"No weaponry of any sort."
"What McKay is trying to say," Colonel Sheppard interrupted, straightening in his chair from his customary slouch and glaring at Doctor McKay in a way that finally got the man's attention, at least until McKay inhaled and appeared to swallow sandwich crumbs the wrong way, "is that the negotiations went absolutely fine. Teyla handled the Olem with aplomb-"
"Do you even know what aplomb means?" interrupted McKay, who appeared to have recovered from his temporary coughing fit. The Colonel ignored him and ploughed on.
"- and we didn't promise them anything that we weren't supposed to. And some of us," another glare at McKay, "even managed to keep our mouths shut this time about our ability to build nuclear weapons."
"And what aren't you telling me?"
It was not surprising that Doctor Weir was not reassured by their guilty expressions as they glanced at each other. It was time to step in.
"The Olem's customs in regards to negotiating are a little... different from our own."
Doctor Weir rubbed that small crease between her brows wearily.
"Please tell me that no nudity was involved this time."
"Oh, come on, Elizabeth. That was one time, and it was so not our fault," Sheppard protested. She gave him a look. "No nudity was involved, I swear."
"Well, not exactly."
This time Teyla joined the Colonel in expressing her displeasure at Doctor McKay's interruption with a look.
"Not exactly?"
"No one was required to remove any clothing, Doctor Weir," she hastened to interject, before McKay could add to Doctor Weir's stress. "The Olem merely have rather... defined roles for the men and women within their society. As it is the men who negotiate, I needed to wear a symbol of manhood before I could be permitted to barter."
"A symbol of manhood..."
This time Doctor Weir's expression was one of interest rather than near dread, as her natural curiosity about the beliefs and customs of others took hold.
Teyla timed her reply carefully.
"I believe that Doctor McKay referred to it as a 'strap-on'."
Said Doctor McKay's coffee was spat across the desk. She sat back, not bothering to hide her own smirk as she turned her head to share her amusement with Aiden.
Ronon's face stared impassively back at her.
It still came as a shock, and it still hurt more than she could have imagined, but she swallowed the pain down and turned her attention back to the three clustered at the other end of the table.
"I'm... sorry?" Doctor Weir was saying, her eyes wide and her gaze sliding slowly between the Colonel and Doctor McKay, as though seeking confirmation that this was a joke at her expense.
Teyla regretted her comment now, although she'd never quite understood the Atlanteans' embarrassment when it came to sharing pleasure. Thankfully, Colonel Sheppard stepped in at that point, barely managing to hide his amusement, and she was able to relax, letting the familiarity of the banter and the man's mannerisms to soothe away the sharp edges of her grief.
She was pragmatic - she'd had to be, growing up under the constant shadow of the Wraith - and, for all that her loss of Aiden was raw and sharp edged, she still had the remaining members of her team. Perhaps, in time, she would grow to view Ronon as such.
"That would be the 'symbol of manhood'," Colonel Sheppard was saying. "The Olem called it a... danny."
"Danaii," she corrected.
"... Oh." It was obvious that Doctor Weir didn't quite know whether to be severe with them or give way to her own amusement. "That... must have been... odd?"
She looked at Teyla, as though now seeking her reassurance. When her path had first crossed that of the Atlanteans, she hadn't known what to make of Doctor Weir and her slow, sometimes cloying concern, but in time it had become clear that however polished the act was, underneath there was genuine feeling, even if sometimes it was a little brittle.
She understood that brittle feeling too well.
"I have... seldom been in a stranger situation, this is true. But the Olem are good people and had no intention of making me feel uncomfortable. This was a concession they were willing to offer us so that they could still comply with their requirements while meeting ours. I think that they should be respected for that."
"I'm sure you're right." There was no hiding the small smile that was now playing around Elizabeth's lips as she weighed up Teyla's words in the same way she weighed everything. "But I would imagine that it must have been quite a... strange experience, nonetheless."
"I... have not been asked to do such a thing before, that is true. But the Olem have much to offer us and it was a simple request to comply with. I look forward to the future benefits trading will bring both our peoples. The Olem are famed for their skills in weaving, pottery and leatherwork, and those talents will never come amiss."
That piqued Colonel Sheppard's interest.
"I didn't see any kiln works, or signs of industry like that, although I guess they'd have to have them. It seemed mostly farming. Did we miss something?"
She was not surprised by how much the Colonel had taken in during their sojourn in the village, even though none of that had shown on the surface. He was very adept at observing while appearing to not pay any attention whatsoever.
"No energy readings of note," Doctor McKay offered around yet another mouthful of coffee. Sheppard acknowledged this with a small nod, and she was aware enough of the undercurrents that underpinned so many of the Atlanteans interactions with others to determine that the Colonel's first concern had been what had been hidden away.
"You missed nothing, Colonel. Such activities are small in nature and are located at the women's village."
"The women have their own village?" Once again, Doctor Weir's tone conveyed her fascination.
"Yes, further from the Stargate, deeper in the woods."
"And which we weren't allowed to visit, being men and not having symbols of womanhood..." Colonel Sheppard's voice trailed off as his face assumed one of those strangely mobile expressions of his, all confusion and amusement and chagrin at once.
"Huh." McKay paused with his cup at his lips, staring into space. "The women are the ones who make leather goods? That puts a whole new slant on some things."
Colonel Sheppard ducked his head in response but not before she caught sight of his telltale smirk.
"I think we're getting a little off topic again, gentlemen," Elizabeth said briskly, sharing a look with Teyla that spoke volumes. "And Teyla, while I appreciate that the Olem may have other aesthetic goods that they can offer us, we really need to concentrate on locating sources of local produce to supplement the stores that the Daedalus brings us rather than becoming too reliant on them. We're not quite at the point where we need to think longer term than that."
"I was not thinking of the Atlanteans' needs, Doctor Weir," she reminded the other woman gently. "My people do need such goods and we would be willing to trade with the Olem for them."
She held Weir's gaze, thankful that the other woman didn't immediately offer such items from the Atlanteans' own stocks. The Athosians had their pride and had never looked to others to provide what they could barter for honestly, and it appeared that Doctor Weir was finally grasping that.
"Of course. Just let us know when you would like to use the Gate, so that we can schedule a return trip. And, who knows. It may be that there comes a time that we need to widen our own trading pool."
It was a small concession, and she took it in the spirit in which it was offered, inclining her head gracefully.
"And I'm sure that if that day ever comes, Elizabeth, you will step... manfully into the breach. And if you need a manhood, I'm sure Teyla would lend you hers. Since the Olem decided that as new bosom-buddy trading partners, she'd need it again and gave it to her."
Doctor Weir raised an eyebrow at McKay, but it hardly dampened his smirk. Or Colonel Sheppard's, who leant closer to McKay and murmured something that sounded like, "Bosom buddies?"
She couldn't resist, and wondered anew how much influence they were having on her own behaviour.
"I'm sure that if Doctor Weir needs to enter into negotiations with the Olem, that they will bestow upon her a... manhood fitting of her status." She held Elizabeth's gaze so that it was clear that she was not the one being mocked. A small smile curled one corner of Doctor Weir's mouth, which was the only indication she needed that her message had been received and understood.
Colonel Sheppard swallowed down what could only have been the beginnings of a laugh before turning to Doctor Weir, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I don't know. I thought Teyla's was... um..."
"Oh, for God's sake," McKay interrupted, his face drawn into a familiar scowl. "I was not, repeat not in any way, shape or form intimidated by Teyla's fake penis."
The Colonel's smirk merely deepened as he leant closer to Doctor Weir, his body language suggesting that he was sharing a confidence even though his face was turned towards McKay and his eyes never left McKay's face. "It was quite impressive."
"Not that impressive," rumbled Ronon from beside her, the first observation he'd made throughout the briefing.
Four pairs of eyes turned in his direction, to meet an expression that was most definitely a smirk.
It appeared that Colonel Sheppard's influence was spreading.
"Okay..." Doctor Weir said, drawing the word out slowly as she once again met Teyla's eyes, the look in her own clearly signalling her amusement. "Once again, we're veering off topic and once again, thank you for sharing your observations with me, gentlemen." She almost made the words sound genuine - almost - but the expression on her face gave her away, equal parts amusement and exasperation.
The dismissal was clear, and she inclined her head again, rising smoothly to her feet as her team did likewise, McKay gulping down the last dregs of his coffee and eyeing the pot longingly.
She watched him bustle out, brow already creased and hands already twitching as he worked out what needed to be done, muttering under his breath about who was likely to need reprimanding for work carried out in his absence and whose work could wait to be reviewed. She knew him well enough by now to not even need the words that spilled so readily from that attractively crooked mouth to know what was going on his head. There was a strange comfort in that, even if it did feel some days like herding ca'ats.
The Colonel, as always, trailed out in McKay's wake, hands in his pockets and a smile still playing around his lips. That expression was as familiar to her by now as McKay's ever present frown.
Doctor Weir followed them, datapad clutched in one hand, her expression sliding towards to distraction even as she turned her head towards Teyla for a brief goodbye smile. By the time Doctor Weir had reached the doorway, she was fully engrossed in the reports scrolling across the screen. The back of her neck shone palely in Atlantis' light as she navigated her way smoothly out of the room despite the fact that her attention was focused downwards.
All that remained was the unfamiliar.
Ronon Dex was watching her. She did not know him well enough yet to read the expression on his face, to know what thoughts, if any, spun through his head. The only thing that she was sure of was that they would be nothing like the thoughts that went through Aiden's head - had gone through Aiden's head.
She could not imagine what thoughts raged in Ford's head now. For all that she'd touched the minds of the Wraith, it had been like looking through an ill-made window; distorted and unreal, muted by distance and completely alien.
The hunger had been real though, had curled through her and gripped her, coming through like the cold frost and freezing her where she pressed too closely to the glass. That hunger would be in Aiden now, eating out his soul piece by piece, never to be entirely sated.
Never to be entirely human.
Dex was still watching her, his expression growing curious. It brought her back from the dark place she'd been inside her head. "Yes?" she asked, keeping her voice low and even.
He shook his head, like an animal shaking out its pelt, the move unconscious and speaking of the power that lurked within him.
"Got time?"
"Of course," she said, thinking longingly of following her team mates - her other team mates - but not permitting any of that to show. "Was there something you needed?"
"To fight," he said simply. His directness was something that was easy to get used to, almost a relief after days of having to couch things diplomatically and considerably less clearly. "You up for it?"
She once again raised her eyebrow, and caught the answering smirk.
"Of course."
It would be a relief to let go for a while, to answer his directness with a directness of her own. There was an ease to be found in losing herself in the rhythm of battle, and she longed for it suddenly, for something with its own clear and simple rules.
And perhaps, she told that small part of her that whispered of responsibility, she would learn more about this man who could never take Aiden's place.
~*~
The subtle shift in Dex's body told her which way he would lunge. She turned, twisted and his foot grazed her side instead of taking her down as intended.
Dex learnt from his mistakes, she allowed him that much; at least on the battlefield. She was still reserving judgement on his ability to learn off it.
He rocked from side to side, eyes watching her from beneath a tangle of hair. She placed her weight on her back leg, tightened her grip on her fighting sticks and waited him out.
She didn't have to wait long, and this time there was no warning. She wasn't quite quick enough to avoid the foot that connected, hard, against her thigh. She stumbled, and he was on her, his grip tightening on her arms as he attempted to catch her off balance and throw her to the mat.
She let him, using the momentum the move gave her to roll smoothly away. She took a certain grim satisfaction in kicking him in the face as she did so, and felt no need to pull the blow back at the last instant as she did with Colonel Sheppard. When he rose to his feet and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, it came away red. He was still watching her, but more warily now, and she took a certain grim satisfaction in that too. She doubted that he would be quite so quick to underestimate her in future.
She shifted her stance again, a subtle invitation to him to try something else. She felt the stretch of it along her thigh but she let no discomfort show on her face. She would show no weakness to this opponent; she was not so foolish as to expect any quarter and she would give none.
It ached though; Dex was obviously not one to pull his blows either and she would have to finish this quickly before her muscles stiffened and slowed her down or it would be her body on the mat.
The knowledge made her reckless, far more reckless than was her wont. She launched into a flurry of blows that she would have chastised the Colonel for making. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her more than she realised.
The moves left her left flank open and he took the opportunity it offered, landing a blow before she could dance away. She stumbled, recovered, continued; blow after blow after blow.
He blocked most of them, leaving his arms to take the brunt as he tried to land his own blows. He seemed to prefer to fight with his body rather than with the sticks, using it both as offence and defence, and she incorporated that knowledge into the fluidity of her moves.
She had always preferred to use her wits, and they didn't let her down. She landed a blow across his hand, loosening his grip, and was already moving before he could recover. His stick was kicked across the room, his legs kicked out from under him - and while that hurt, she moved smoothly through the pain - and her staff was at his throat before he could react.
She stood over him, chest burning with exertion, holding his gaze steadily while the sweat slid down her back, and waited for him to yield.
Or perhaps not. He may not have yet had his fill of battle but for once he seemed inclined to caution and, after holding her gaze for long moments, he nodded once, briefly, and she could finally relax.
The muscles in her thigh were cramping, but she refused to limp as she moved away, setting her face as still as stone as she inclined her head gracefully to acknowledge him.
She was not foolish enough to take her eyes from him as she wiped her face and neck with a towel, and tried not to resent the way he rose easily to his feet. He was too proud to have yielded to her unless she had won their bout fair and square, as the Colonel would say, and she was too proud to let him, and so she read no more into it.
He was still watching her, a light in his eye and his head tilted inquisitively. She raised her chin proudly, and raised her eyebrow as well, another thing she may have picked up from Sheppard.
"Yes?" She kept her voice cool.
"You fight well."
She wasn't sure whether that was supposed to be flattering - and the idea that Dex would choose to flatter her was a disturbing one. She refused to give him the satisfaction, still holding his eyes calmly as she replied, "As do you."
He grunted in acknowledgement. "You teaching the Atlanteans those moves?"
She nodded, wiping the towel over her neck and still not taking her eyes off him. He reminded her sometimes of the reptiles on Athos - deceptively slow looking until they struck. They were the one element of her home that she found she did not miss after the move to a new world.
"Good. They could use it."
If he wanted to irritate her, he failed. It had been a long time since she had risen to childish insults, and she had no intention of doing so now.
"It is a fair trade. They have taught my people many things."
For some reason this seemed to amuse him, his lips curling up as he peered at her from beneath lowered brows.
"Yeah."
There was a tone to his voice that she couldn't quite place, something that may have been mocking and knowing all at the same time. Or perhaps she was misjudging him, casting her own unease in his direction and finding it reflected back at her. She didn't dignify him with an answer, but she wasn't foolish enough to turn away from him entirely while she reached into her bag for a cloth to wipe the sweat from her face and neck. She was aware, however, of his eyes tracking her movements as he stood there, managing to loom without ever moving a muscle.
When she rose to her feet again, his eyes had left her and were focused on the opening to her bag. She couldn't help it; she dropped her own eyes in that direction, relying on her other senses to warn her if he moved towards her.
It was not difficult to guess what had caught his attention.
"I did not need that in order to win this time." She could not help her tone, which was arch and too knowing, especially given what was resting on top of the contents of her bag.
He smirked, and it was beyond strange seeing Colonel Sheppard's expression on his face. "Never said you did."
She cocked her eyebrow, made her expression as playful as her tone had been. "Even the Olem do not view ability in battle as belonging solely to the men."
He moved closer to her, and she could smell the slight tang of sweat rising from his body. It wasn't unpleasant, but it felt subtly wrong somehow. The Athosians and the Atlanteans both had a different scent - the Athosians of the sweet spices rubbed into the seams of their garments when made, an ancient blessing. And the Atlanteans always had a faint trace of something else, some mixture that reminded her of the scent in their labs, harsh and chemical and strange. The first time she'd used their soap, she'd smelt that same scent rising from her own skin. It had left her feeling on edge and uneasy, as though she'd lost the last connection to her people and had taken on the Atlantean mantle entirely. Until she had been able to wash away the last trace of it, the separation from her people had hurt anew.
Ronon, however, smelt of nothing but himself and that merely reminded her of what else had been lost.
"Can't afford to."
He was still too close to her but she didn't back away. She seldom backed away from a challenge if the odds were in her favour, and sometimes when they were not.
He was still looking into her bag, and she watched a small smile curl the corners of his mouth. She didn't give him the satisfaction of asking, though, any more than she had been willing to give him the satisfaction of beating her while sparring. She waited him out instead. She had always been patient, and these days her patience was well honed.
He rocked back on his heels, a subtle shift in position that once again told her to expect a jab. "Don't think you could have won with that anyway." There was a light in his eyes still, some invitation extended to her to share this joke, and Ronon seldom made jokes. Yet. She suspected that he was in many ways as reserved as the Colonel, although the Colonel showed his reserve by making jokes and Ronon by making none. "It's not as impressive as mine."
She didn't smile, didn't twitch, just raised one eyebrow, haughty as any leader.
This time his smile was broader, and it distracted her enough that the sudden tap of his sticks against the ones still loosely held in her hand came as a surprise.
"Hasn't got the reach."
She allowed herself a small smile of amusement of that, acknowledging a blow well aimed and inclined her head again as he moved back, just enough to give her room to breathe. "I have enjoyed our sparring today. Thank you."
He didn't answer, but she was growing used to that. Instead, he nodded again and turned away, hefting the sticks in his hand as though balancing their weight. Perhaps he was; like her he seemed seldom still, always aware of what was to hand and what could be used.
She dropped her eyes to her bag again as he left, eyeing it thoughtfully before wrapping her sticks in her towel and stowing them carefully inside.
~*~
Continued in Part Two.