FIC - The Bad Lands, [R], T/J, Team, 1/1
Title: The Bad Lands
Author:
Lacenire
Part: 1/1
Rating: R
Characters: Teyla/ John, Team
Genre: Action/ Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: Violence, Blood
Spoilers: None
Word Count: 4869
Archiving: Lacenire LJ, STFever, STFever LJ, JTConvergence, Wraithbait, Atlantisfic, Atlantica
Disclaimers: I do not own Teyla or any of the characters from Stargate Atlantis. My stories are written for entertainment purposes only and not for monetary gain, so please do not sue me.
A/N: This is my response to a prompt from
majorsamfan for the
Teylafen ficathon. The prompt called for the team to be stuck off-world, Teyla whumping, and someone singing. I hope it meets the criteria and expectations of
majorsamfan!
A special thank you to my beta reader, the indomitable
Sanssong! She did a marvelously thorough job. Any mistakes or errors are all my own and were most definitely added after the beta-ing process.
Summary: On a routine mission to establish contact with an advanced society, Teyla and the rest of the team step through the Gate and are somehow shunted way off course to an inhospitable world.
The charred, desolate landscape stretched for what seemed like miles in every direction. Teyla looked back the way she had come and noted the few landmarks so that she could find her way back to her teammates, and the Gate. She had been walking for five hours, stopping only twice to drink some of her meager supply of water and to take a single bite from one of only two energy bars she had taken with her.
She followed the rapidly disappearing smoke trail of the disabled Dart that had emerged from the Gate six hours earlier. She could just barely make out the last wisps of the grey smoke that they had seen venting from one of its engines as it spiraled down to earth. The disappearing smoke trail was encouraging because it meant that the engine had not ignited and destroyed the remains of the Dart.
Despite this sign, Teyla still hurried as fast as her tired legs would carry her. That disabled Dart was the key to their survival. McKay had made it clear that without the onboard computer and de-materializer crystals, they would be stranded forever on this godforsaken planet.
As she trudged along, getting closer and closer to her goal, Teyla reflected on the events that had led to their current dilemma. It was difficult to believe that almost a week had passed since they emerged from the Gate…several million light years off course! That day had almost spelt disaster for them all, and resulted in serious injuries to herself and all her teammates.
The team had been assigned what was to have been a routine mission to make contact with a society which M.A.L.P images had indicated was very advanced. They had thought that the inhabitants of MQX5814 would have made good allies, since the images showed that the Wraith had not ravaged that planet; and they were obviously technologically advanced.
All was going according to plan. They had dialed the address and stepped through the Gate; that is when everything went awry. She and her teammates had emerged from the Gate into a ravaged wasteland and a situation that would have spelt certain death, if not for Ronon’s super-honed senses.
The Gate was perched on a precipice!
Ronon had emerged from the event horizon first, and had thrown himself to one side to avoid a plunge into a crevasse. He had quickly turned to grab her as she emerged, pulling her to one side before she could react to the sheer drop confronting her. There was no time for recovery as he barely caught McKay before he plunged over the edge.
That was where it all went wrong. Rodney saw his peril and chose to cling to Ronon in his fright. She had realized that Ronon could not disengage himself in time to save John, so she had launched herself across the event horizon of the Gate, timing it to coincide with John’s emergence from the Gate. Her plan was to use her momentum and body weight to propel him away from the sheer drop. It almost worked.
Teyla closed her eyes as the pain of those events riveted through her body; it was as if they had just happened minutes ago rather than days ago. She could still see John’s body emerging from the Gate, still feel the pain of the brief contact of her arms with his torso, and still feel him slip through her arms, as she tumbled to the ground on the other side of the Gate. As if from afar, she saw Ronon forcefully push Rodney away, and launch himself out over the crevasse after John, the two of them disappearing into its depths.
*~*~*
Teyla paused and once more took note of the landmarks leading back the way she had traveled. She could feel the tears threatening to pour forth, yet she could not afford to be weak, her teammates were depending on her. John needed her to be strong. Firming her resolve once more, she resumed her walking and her reflections.
She recalled scrambling to the edge of the crevasse to look down, frightened beyond belief by what she thought she would find. Incredibly Ronon had caught John with one hand and somehow managed to wedge his long body between the walls of the sheer drop. The two of them dangled precariously no more than four feet down, John hanging limply like a rag doll.
She did not know how he did it, but somehow Ronon had managed to heave John’s limp body upwards, towards where she and Rodney lay on their bellies looking over the rim of the crevasse. She had had to command Rodney to grab her legs as she reached down to grasp John’s arm and pull him up the rest of the way, all the time hearing the rock face crumbling around where Ronon perched.
She had no idea where the strength came from, but somehow she had managed to drag John the rest of the way up. She could feel her shoulder dislocating from his deadweight but she refused let go. He offered no assistance, and that frightened her more than the excruciating pain she was experiencing as his full body weight pulled against her shoulder. She heard the popping sound of her shoulder bone being pulled out of the socket, and yet she held on for dear life until he was safely over the ledge.
What would her life have been worth if she had let go…how would she have lived without him?
Teyla stopped walking again, doubling up from the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The thought of what had almost happened nearly incapacitated her.
*~*~*
How Ronon had climbed out of that hole with a broken leg was a mystery and a cause for admiration. She saw then the kind of strength he had, both physical and character. She saw how he had survived being hunted for seven years, all alone, with no one else to rely on.
She had scrambled over to the edge, her dislocated arm dragging at her side, to see if she could help him despite her injury. He had shouted for her to get out of the way, and then he had thrown his upper body out of the hole and pulled himself the rest of the way out.
She recalled how Rodney had hovered from one injured person to the other, his own temple bleeding from a cut inflicted by a sharp stone he had fallen upon when Ronon had pushed him away, before trying to catch John. In the end she had told him to help her carry John further away from the Gate and the crevasses located in that area.
She had then sent him back to help Ronon who was hopping towards them, while she painfully removed her jacket and bundled it under John’s head. She took in the rapidly rising bruise on his forehead and her limited medical knowledge identified the cause of his stupor as a concussion. She knew that the best they could do was to keep him warm until the shock wore off, but yet she was anxious and afraid that he would never awaken.
The following days had been terrible. Rodney had returned to the Gate and after a brief time had returned to inform them that the D.H.D. had apparently fallen into one of the crevasses and so there was no way to dial Atlantis.
Worse yet, he had figured out that they had been shunted way off their intended course, so there was almost no chance of a successful rescue in the near future. The people in Atlantis would have no way of knowing where they had disappeared to; the only way they would get off the planet is if they figured out a way to save themselves.
Ronon had pulled her arm back into its socket, and fashioned a sling to support it. She had tried not to cry out in pain, somehow knowing that the sound would disturb John despite the fact that he was still unconscious. Sweat had broken out on her brow and she bit down on the piece of wood Ronon had given her. In the end, when she felt the arm slip back into its proper alignment, she had felt much better and sank to her knees in relief that the pain was over.
She had then helped Ronon set his leg. He had remained stoic throughout the setting process and she suspected that if she had not been there he would have been able to do it himself. There was very little that could be done for John’s injuries so they had set up one of their field tents and tried to make him comfortable, and administer liquids. A quick assessment of their supplies had shown that they would not be able to give John as much as he would need; they would all need to ration their supplies since there was no telling how long they would be stranded. She refused to think that they would die on this godforsaken planet.
*~*~*
The sound of the Gate activating, some days later, had caught them all off guard. She and Rodney had run towards it, only to dive to the ground when a Wraith Dart emerged and flew off into the distance, spewing smoke from one of its engines. They had scrambled back to the crude camp they had set up and located a pair of field glasses with which to track the path of the Dart. That was when she had seen the ‘graveyard’ of derelict airships.
Several generations and models of Darts had crashed on the planet. A quick scan in all directions had revealed the remains of some ships including the still gleaming hull of others. The one that had come through the Gate was rapidly descending towards ground, with the pilot unsuccessfully attempting to control the landing.
She and Rodney tracked the Dart using their field glasses, and saw the large cloud of dust that rose up when it finally hit the ground. The plume of dark grey smoke continued to rise from the wreckage, but no additional smoke was seen. They both surmised that the ship had not exploded, but prior experience with Dart crashes convinced them that the wrecked ship was probably unsalvageable and the Wraith occupant dead.
She and Rodney had eventually left their vantage point and returned to the camp to discuss the latest development. They quickly filled in Ronon and talked about the graveyard of Wraith Darts. Rodney quickly surmised that their misfortune was not a random event, but part of the defensive system employed by the inhabitants of MQX5814.
He explained that the culture they had observed via the M.A.L.P. was advanced enough to have reprogrammed the Gate to shunt all organic matter to a new location. It would explain why the M.A.L.P. was able to go to the planet, but not them or the Dart. It would also explain the ‘graveyard’ of generations old Wraith Darts. They had felt no ill effects from the shunting process, but according to Rodney, the Darts were different and seemed to have been disabled by the process. It was the reason why so many crash remains were seen off in the distance.
It did not take long for Rodney to figure out that if the on-board computer and de-materializer crystals were still intact, they could reconfigure them to perform the actions of the missing D.H.D. Alternatively, they could use the Dart’s built-in D.H.D., if it was still intact, and one of the power generators to dial the Gate.
She had not waited for a fruitless argument to erupt, she had simply informed both men that she would make the long trek to the Dart wreckage and remove the components that were needed.
Ronon had looked murderous, but with a broken leg, could say nothing. Rodney had simply looked relieved that she had volunteered, since he did not want to go off on his own in a strange world of unknown dangers.
“Watch your back,” Ronon had said. “Wraith are notoriously difficult to kill, and the one that came through the Gate was very much alive. Don’t trust that he’s dead, until you see his body,” he finished cryptically.
She understood more clearly than most how important that caution was. She understood the hunger that drove The Wraith, she knew how hardy they were. The past Dart wreckages showed that the ships had exploded after emerging from the Gate, the ship that she was making her way towards, had not. There was no way of knowing if the Wraith pilot had survived until she saw its body.
*~*~*
‘There it is,’ Teyla thought, as she crested the final hillock and saw the wrecked Dart.
It had broken into two large sections and scattered around were smaller bits and pieces that had probably come from the wings and tail sections of the airship.
She paused, and took another mouthful of her meager supply of water, all the time surveying the area surrounding the wreckage. Satisfied that there was no movement in the area, she tucked away her water bottle and walked the final meters to the wreckage. She headed directly to the cockpit, intent on satisfying herself that the Dart’s pilot had been killed in the crash.
The pilot Wraith was sprawled over the operations console, its face frozen in a caricature of a horrible death. She could see the arm hanging limply from the body and the brownish stains of ages dried blood from freely bleeding wounds. It all indicated that the Wraith would have died from its injuries, yet she knew in an instant that it had died from something more sinister. Its skin was desiccated and stretched over its bones like stiff parchment, and there was only one thing she knew of that could do that to someone in such a short space of time.
There was a living Wraith in the area!
Teyla made the connection and sensed the Wraith, an instant before its reaching hand grazed her shoulder as she spun away. She cursed herself for having let down her guard; or maybe it was the fatigue from her hours-long trek to the wreckage. In any event, she had barely enough time to try to raise her P90 before it sprang towards her and batted the gun out of her hands. It flew across the clearing and lodged between the two larger pieces of the Dart wreckage.
Teyla did not waste time trying to retrieve her gun; instead she ducked under the Wraith’s swinging arm and delivered a sound punch to its abdomen. The Wraith doubled over briefly, but having recently fed upon the dying Wraith pilot, it was able to recover quickly and follow through with a back handed blow of its own that sent Teyla sprawling to the ground, where she hit her head against a projecting stone.
Teyla struggled to remain conscious and to rise to face the Wraith. It must have realized her difficulty, because it advanced slowly towards her, savoring the sight of a prospective victim’s last attempts at defiance. She shook head, trying to clear the buzzing that the Wraith’s blow, and the stone, seemed to have inflicted on her. She could hear it advancing, and yet she could feel the blackness closing in on her, threatening to swallow her.
The thought of John came unbidden to her as she was about to give into the darkness. She had realized that she could not rise in time to defend herself from the Wraith, and her subconscious mind was seductively whispering that she should give in to the darkness so she wouldn’t feel anything when the Wraith sucked the life from her. Somehow, as she was sinking back down to earth, she heard his voice in her mind:
“Don’t you dare give up on life…on living…on us!”
She knew then that she couldn’t just give in; she had to fight until the last breath in her body was exhausted.
The thought came almost too late, as she felt the heavy body of the Wraith straddle hers. It reached down to grab her clothing and dragged her body upright so that it could look into her eyes as it drained her life. It was reaching towards her with its feeding palm when she struck out, neatly severing the offending limb and causing the Wraith to scream out in pain.
‘Ronon would be proud,’ she thought, as she launched herself at the Wraith and slashed at its throat with the knife she had recovered from the concealed position in her boot.
The sharp blade opened the Wraith’s throat from ear to ear, sending its viscous blue blood spraying into the air and between the splayed fingers of the creature as it attempted to staunch the flow with its intact hand. Before long it sank to its knees gasping, and soon lay still.
Teyla paused only long enough to confirm that it was in fact dead, before limping back to the downed ship to the complete the task of removing the parts they needed to get off the planet. She ignored the blood running down the side of her head, caused by a cut from the stone she had fallen against. She ignored the painful throbbing in her ankle and the arm she had dislocated when they had come through the Gate. She had fallen badly, when the Wraith had backhanded her, and she could feel both limbs stiffening up.
She worked as quickly as possible, following the concise instructions that Rodney had given her. She kept her senses open to detect the presence of any additional Wraith, but did not pause in her task. She knew that the battle she now fought was not with a Wraith, but with her own body.
It was battered and bruised and already she could feel her fingers and arm stiffening so much that it was doubtful she would be able to defend herself if another Wraith came to the wreckage. She needed to complete the removal of the components before her body gave out and she could no longer perform the fine motor skills required to utilize the tiny screw drivers and other tools Rodney had given for the task.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she detached one then the other section of the wreckage to salvage the parts they needed to dial an alternative Gate address. Her hair kept falling forward into her eyes as she bent over the console removing the parts. Teyla pushed back the offending strands for what seemed like the hundredth time, before continuing her task.
A wave of dizziness passed over her, and the Allan Key set she was attempting to use slipped from her slick, bloodied fingers, to the floor of the cockpit. Shaking her head, trying to clear the fuzzy feeling creeping over her, she bent down to pick up the ring of L-shaped tools so she could complete the task.
*~*~*
“…so according to the principles of quantum physics, the pha---”
“Shhh!” Ronon said, sitting up sharply and scanning the darkness that surrounded their camp.
“What do you mean shhh, don’t tell me---”
“Shut up McKay!” Ronon shouted, causing Rodney to snap his mouth shut, as he finally realized that something had attracted Ronon’s attention.
“Guard Sheppard!” he said cryptically, as he struggled to his feet.
Rodney stared after Ronon’s retreating back, and when he could no longer see Ronon’s figure, he nervously drew his gun and scrambled over to Sheppard’s pallet.
“Uhhgh…” Sheppard was groaning feverishly, as if sensing that something was wrong. It was the first sign of true awareness that he had given them since his accident, four days ago.
Rodney grabbed up the last of their meager water ration and pressed the bottle to Sheppard’s lips, encouraging him to drink a few sips. He divided his attention between watching for Ronon’s return, looking for possible threats, and searching Sheppard’s face for signs of returning lucidity. The latter came first, when he realized that sometime between his glances, Sheppard had opened his eyes and his gaze was darting around frantically.
“T-Tey-la…where’s…Teyla?” he finally managed to whisper.
Rodney swallowed nervously and mentally considered all the possible ways of answering that question.
“T-Teyla…dammit, Rod-ney…where’s she?” Sheppard asked, more insistent than before. Clearly he sensed that all was not as it should be.
“She’s…she’s gone for help and is probably on her way back right now. She’ll be pleased to see you’re awake,” Rodney finally answered, his nervousness seeping into his voice.
“There’s something wrong. I know when you’re lying, Rodney,” Sheppard said, speaking more and more clearly with every word.
He slowly scanned the gloomy tent, taking in their crude quarters. Rodney could see the dawning comprehension in his eyes as he slowly recalled the events that had led to their present predicament.
“The Gate’s on a cliff…where’s Ronon?” Sheppard asked, urgently, finally realizing that the big Satedan was not in the tent.
“He’s alright, he went to check our perimeter,” Rodney replied quickly, trying to stave off Sheppard’s rising panic as he noted the absence of yet another one of his teammates.
“Tell…tell me everything, and remember, you’re a terrible liar, Rodney,” Sheppard commanded.
“Okay…here’s what we’ve managed to figure out thus far…”
*~*~*
Teyla tried to struggle to her feet to resume her trek back to her teammates…back to John. She had thought the cut on her forehead was a minor one, but that notion seemed to have been born from her delusional mind. Now, she had to admit that the slickness that had covered her fingers, every time she had pushed her hair out of her face, was in fact blood from a freely bleeding cut. She now had to admit that the exertion of the past hours had encouraged the cut to continue bleeding steadily, and she was now on the verge of blacking out from a combination of fatigue and blood loss.
The return journey had taken much longer than anticipated, as she had stumbled continuously due to dizziness and her injured leg. Each time she fell, she had steeled herself and determinedly struggled to her feet, to continue on. Winding and weaving, yet moving steadily onwards, she was forever thinking of her friends waiting…of John waiting.
The fall of darkness was almost a catastrophic event. She lost sight of all the little landmarks she had painstakingly noted on her journey outwards. She had to rely solely on her sense of direction, trusting that she did not get turned around in her dizzy, delusional state.
The land itself also became a hazard. All the pitfalls and ruts and cracks in the landscape, suddenly became exponentially more dangerous. She had tripped and fallen a dozen times and her hands were cut and bleeding from trying to brace from serious damage, or from shielding her back pack and its precious contents.
The faint light of their crude camp was a beacon of encouragement, when she finally saw it in the distance. Her pace had slowed to a crawl as her injured leg refused to respond to the commands her brain was giving it. The ground rushing towards her face came as no surprise. She crashed down to the earth, hitting her head once more against a rock formation.
She struggled to rise, but couldn’t; she’d come as far as her battered, broken, body would carry her. She tried to call out to Rodney…to Ronon…to John, yet her voice sounded like a croak to her ears.
‘Its no use,’ she thought, as the darkness clouded her vision and swallowed her completely.
*~*~*
The soft humming of the Athosian woman, who was keeping vigil in the room, soothed John’s ears. Teyla had not awakened since Ronon had found her unconscious on the wasteland surrounding their camp, yet, as he sat at her bedside staring down at her bruised, scratched face, he knew she would survive her injuries.
They were back in Atlantis, because of her strength of spirit and determination. He didn’t know how she had done it, nor did he know all that she had endured as she’d struggled to salvage the necessary components from the Wraith Dart.
‘Thank God for Ronon’s superhuman senses!’ John thought, and not for the first time.
Somehow Ronon had heard Teyla’s soft call for help, or maybe he had sensed her presence out there, in the wasteland surrounding their camp. John was amazed that Ronon had managed to find her in the darkness, and bring her back to camp in his injured state. He thanked God for Ronon’s strength, how he’d managed to carry Teyla’s weight on his broken leg was a mystery.
Rodney had come through for them by morning, pushing himself to the limit as he reconfigured the salvaged components to replace the missing D.H.D. He seemed surprised that Teyla had brought all the parts that he had asked for, and kept staring at her unconscious form as he continually praised her skill and intelligence. John was not surprised that she had been a quick study, recalling all Rodney’s instructions.
‘She’s so smart…so beautiful!’
It hurt to think that she might be lost to him forever because of the massive blood loss she had suffered from her head injury.
Ronon thought that she had encountered a Wraith out there, all alone in the wilderness, knowing her injured teammates depended on her for their survival. According to Ronon and Rodney, she had left the camp with only a sore, previously dislocated shoulder, and a few bruises.
As John stared at her pale, battered face and body, he knew for certain she had encountered at least one Wraith.
They had never spoken the words that lovers speak to each other, yet he knew that she felt that special connection between them. He had felt her pain out there on the wastelands…The Bad Lands as McKay had taken to calling the desolate planet. She had called him out of his own stupor. Now, here she lay unconscious, and he knew that he could reach her in that place where she had retreated.
He reached for her hand, and enclosed it in his larger one. He could almost feel her fingers curl around his, holding onto him as he held onto her. He couldn’t get over how vulnerable she appeared to be, as she lay inert on the bed. Teyla had always looked strong, as if she could handle anything. He chided himself for not being there for his team, for putting her in a dangerous position.
‘It should have been me, out there, salvaging those parts! It’s my fault she’s hurt!’
His self deprecating thoughts were pushed aside as he heard the Athosian woman abandon her humming and begin to softly sing the words to a familiar song. He suspected that his unconscious mind had recorded it, because he recognized it as one he had heard Teyla singing to the Athosian children she loved so much. It seemed appropriate somehow, and he willed Teyla to hear the words:
Your spirit shines like the sun,
Illuminating all you touch.
Bringing forth new life,
Brightening the days.
Your spirit is reborn,
And your joy shines like a beacon.
Illuminating the pathways,
That leads to true contentment.
John told himself he could see a slight flickering of her eyes, as if she was indeed hearing the song.
Lift up your face to the Ancestors,
Let their light shine down on you.
Let them infuse your spirit,
With the joy that is New Life.
Teyla lips began to move slowly at first as if she was struggling to make them work, and then, he could hear her soft utterances.
She was finally awake and singing along!
Your spirit shines like the sun,
Illuminating all you touch.
Bringing forth New Life,
As it brightens everyone’s heart.
The Athosian woman jumped to her feet and rushed to Teyla’s bedside, probably reassuring herself that her hearing was sound, and that Teyla was in fact awake.
“Get Dr Beckett, quickly!” John said quietly, urging the woman along with a gentle push.
Slowly, Teyla opened her eyes and focused on John. He looked away, feeling ashamed that he had failed her. This was what he had prayed for…what he’d wanted, but now he felt unworthy.
‘How could he accept what she was so obviously offering?’
He could feel her happiness at seeing him at her bedside, especially since the last time she had seen him, he had been unconscious.
A gentle squeezing of his hand drew his eyes down to their still clasped hands, and then back to her face. She wore a small smile on her face, and against his will, he found himself returning it.
Suddenly, all the reasons for keeping away from her seemed so flimsy, so contrived. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but at that moment he felt hopeful. At that moment he felt relief…Teyla didn’t hate him…didn’t blame him.
At that moment, the only thing that mattered was the message her eyes conveyed to him. A message, and… a promise of things to come.
Fin.