Fic: Newcomers: The Boy (SGA; Teyla, OC; PG)
Title: Newcomers: The Boy
Rating: PG, gen
Character: Teyla, OC(s)
Disclaimer: Not mine (except the mistakes), no harm meant.
Summary: Teyla makes a point of meeting each new arrival, and while she does not always remember every name, she can almost always tell whether they will stay in Atlantis.
A/N: Second in the Newcomers series, after Thomas Wright, USMC.
The Boy
They bring more people every year. Many leave, but some stay, and the city's small population grows steadily. Teyla makes a point of meeting each new arrival, and while she does not always remember every name, she can almost always tell whether they will stay in Atlantis, or leave when their 'tour' is done. Scientist, soldier or supporting staff, she can see in their faces whether or not their heart has been won by the city. It is obvious in some (like John), less so in others (Ronon or, she suspects, herself), but she has learnt to see that light in their eyes.
Not always, however. Sometimes she misjudges (she did not expect Major Lorne to stay above a year). And sometimes she cannot tell.
Take the boy in front of her. He is in awe of the city, and maybe even the city's people, but it as much fear as it is wonder.
Teyla is well aware that calling a trained soldier a boy might be taken remiss, particularly if he is, just coincidentally, half one's own age. There are young men among her own people maybe two or three summers younger than this Marine. But he is a boy, if not quite a child.
Partly, it is the contrast. Most of the soldiers (Marines, Airmen, yes, she remembers that easily enough, the better to avoid standing on toes that are so sensitive to their self-imposed clans) have many years experience before they arrive in Atlantis. This boy is little more than an untested recruit, dragged to another galaxy because the SGC is so eager to have anyone with the ATA gene.
"He's nineteen," John had hissed, as they watched the new arrivals in the mess hall. "Nobody's that young."
"They're feeding him twice as much, as well," said Rodney, nodding towards the serving staff. "I heard that one of the cooks has taken to baking him cookies."
"Cookies? Those little blue ones?" asked Ronon, sitting up.
"Yeah. You should have them confiscated as contraband."
"It's not really contraband if they make them in the city," said John.
"Illegal allocation of resources, then. I don't know, make something up."
"Seriously, nineteen?" John shook his head in disbelief.
"Cookies, John. Ow." Rodney scowled and rubbed at his arm where John poked him.
"He does seem young," Teyla had said, watching the boy as he looked around the mess, seeking a table, or perhaps looking for someone.
"Young, inexperienced, a danger to others. He's got the gene, so he's been learning to fly the jumpers. Apparently he nearly took out half the jumper bay. Rodriguez is not happy with me."
Teyla saw one of the older soldiers hold up a hand to catch the boy's attention, pushing out the chair opposite himself with his foot. The boy beamed with relief, and sat. The other soldier shook his head, smiling, and picked up one of the little blue cookies on the boy's tray.
John shrugged. "Lorne's told one of his guys to keep an eye on the kid. He'll be okay."
But oh, he is so painfully young (and, yes, maybe she is a little jealous of that, but she wouldn't want to be that unknowing again). His name is Thomas Wright, "Tom," he says, and she tells him to call her Teyla, but he still calls her 'ma'am'.
She is teaching him to use the bantos rods, and he has the Marines' eagerness to learn, but he hesitates, time and again. He does not want to strike her, and he's paying for it. Teyla understands why they want to cosset him, but she knows that this galaxy will not. He has to learn to fight anything that attacks him, to never hesitate because someone looks weaker than him.
She leaves an opening for him, and again, he hesitates. With a regret she does not voice, Teyla cracks her rods against the back his calves, and he tumbles to the ground.
They are interrupted by the soldier she had seen sharing a table with Tom the day before. He smirks at the sight of Tom on his back, before turning towards Teyla and standing to attention.
"Sorry, ma'am, but we're on duty in half an hour. Thought I'd pick him up, case he got lost on the way to the labs."
This one she can read. He won't be staying.
Beyond that, Teyla sees in his eyes something that she is not used to seeing in the Tau'ri. It reminds her of nothing so much as Ronon when he first arrived. This man has lost - is lost. Perhaps he thought he would find a place in Atlantis, but the city has not touched him.
"C'mon, pal, can't lie about all day."
And yet, when he turns to the boy, his gaze is clear. He mocks Tom, but there is no malice in it, and he holds out a firm hand to pull the boy to his feet.
And that, more than anything, might be the thing that makes the boy stay. In his youth, he does not see it, but the people of Atlantis are reaching out to him. Now, it may be sympathy for his inexperience, or because they are charmed by his innocence, but in time it will be the loyalty that binds the city together. He may be wary of it now, but she sees, in the ready way he clasps his comrade's arm and the solemn, awkward way he returns Teyla's bow, Tom's willingness to accept the city.
The city holds out a hand to him, and, slowly, he is reaching out to her.
Continued in Nathaniel Gibson, PhD
From which you might discern that I have a plan - A-ha! - each newcomer's story alternated with one of the Team's view of them. Although it rather falls apart, because I can't give you Ronon's POV until after the story that ties the four newcomers together. 'Course, it's a WIP, so this may change...
I'm taking Teyla's age as Rachel Luttrell's. No, I can't believe she's 38 either.
Rating: PG, gen
Character: Teyla, OC(s)
Disclaimer: Not mine (except the mistakes), no harm meant.
Summary: Teyla makes a point of meeting each new arrival, and while she does not always remember every name, she can almost always tell whether they will stay in Atlantis.
A/N: Second in the Newcomers series, after Thomas Wright, USMC.
The Boy
They bring more people every year. Many leave, but some stay, and the city's small population grows steadily. Teyla makes a point of meeting each new arrival, and while she does not always remember every name, she can almost always tell whether they will stay in Atlantis, or leave when their 'tour' is done. Scientist, soldier or supporting staff, she can see in their faces whether or not their heart has been won by the city. It is obvious in some (like John), less so in others (Ronon or, she suspects, herself), but she has learnt to see that light in their eyes.
Not always, however. Sometimes she misjudges (she did not expect Major Lorne to stay above a year). And sometimes she cannot tell.
Take the boy in front of her. He is in awe of the city, and maybe even the city's people, but it as much fear as it is wonder.
Teyla is well aware that calling a trained soldier a boy might be taken remiss, particularly if he is, just coincidentally, half one's own age. There are young men among her own people maybe two or three summers younger than this Marine. But he is a boy, if not quite a child.
Partly, it is the contrast. Most of the soldiers (Marines, Airmen, yes, she remembers that easily enough, the better to avoid standing on toes that are so sensitive to their self-imposed clans) have many years experience before they arrive in Atlantis. This boy is little more than an untested recruit, dragged to another galaxy because the SGC is so eager to have anyone with the ATA gene.
"He's nineteen," John had hissed, as they watched the new arrivals in the mess hall. "Nobody's that young."
"They're feeding him twice as much, as well," said Rodney, nodding towards the serving staff. "I heard that one of the cooks has taken to baking him cookies."
"Cookies? Those little blue ones?" asked Ronon, sitting up.
"Yeah. You should have them confiscated as contraband."
"It's not really contraband if they make them in the city," said John.
"Illegal allocation of resources, then. I don't know, make something up."
"Seriously, nineteen?" John shook his head in disbelief.
"Cookies, John. Ow." Rodney scowled and rubbed at his arm where John poked him.
"He does seem young," Teyla had said, watching the boy as he looked around the mess, seeking a table, or perhaps looking for someone.
"Young, inexperienced, a danger to others. He's got the gene, so he's been learning to fly the jumpers. Apparently he nearly took out half the jumper bay. Rodriguez is not happy with me."
Teyla saw one of the older soldiers hold up a hand to catch the boy's attention, pushing out the chair opposite himself with his foot. The boy beamed with relief, and sat. The other soldier shook his head, smiling, and picked up one of the little blue cookies on the boy's tray.
John shrugged. "Lorne's told one of his guys to keep an eye on the kid. He'll be okay."
But oh, he is so painfully young (and, yes, maybe she is a little jealous of that, but she wouldn't want to be that unknowing again). His name is Thomas Wright, "Tom," he says, and she tells him to call her Teyla, but he still calls her 'ma'am'.
She is teaching him to use the bantos rods, and he has the Marines' eagerness to learn, but he hesitates, time and again. He does not want to strike her, and he's paying for it. Teyla understands why they want to cosset him, but she knows that this galaxy will not. He has to learn to fight anything that attacks him, to never hesitate because someone looks weaker than him.
She leaves an opening for him, and again, he hesitates. With a regret she does not voice, Teyla cracks her rods against the back his calves, and he tumbles to the ground.
They are interrupted by the soldier she had seen sharing a table with Tom the day before. He smirks at the sight of Tom on his back, before turning towards Teyla and standing to attention.
"Sorry, ma'am, but we're on duty in half an hour. Thought I'd pick him up, case he got lost on the way to the labs."
This one she can read. He won't be staying.
Beyond that, Teyla sees in his eyes something that she is not used to seeing in the Tau'ri. It reminds her of nothing so much as Ronon when he first arrived. This man has lost - is lost. Perhaps he thought he would find a place in Atlantis, but the city has not touched him.
"C'mon, pal, can't lie about all day."
And yet, when he turns to the boy, his gaze is clear. He mocks Tom, but there is no malice in it, and he holds out a firm hand to pull the boy to his feet.
And that, more than anything, might be the thing that makes the boy stay. In his youth, he does not see it, but the people of Atlantis are reaching out to him. Now, it may be sympathy for his inexperience, or because they are charmed by his innocence, but in time it will be the loyalty that binds the city together. He may be wary of it now, but she sees, in the ready way he clasps his comrade's arm and the solemn, awkward way he returns Teyla's bow, Tom's willingness to accept the city.
The city holds out a hand to him, and, slowly, he is reaching out to her.
Continued in Nathaniel Gibson, PhD
From which you might discern that I have a plan - A-ha! - each newcomer's story alternated with one of the Team's view of them. Although it rather falls apart, because I can't give you Ronon's POV until after the story that ties the four newcomers together. 'Course, it's a WIP, so this may change...
I'm taking Teyla's age as Rachel Luttrell's. No, I can't believe she's 38 either.