Fic: A Difference of Days (Gen, PG13)
Title: A Difference of Days
Author: cat_77
Genre: Gen, Team, OT4 if you squint that way
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 4,280 words
Recipient: sci8fi who wanted Team Gen, Friendship, Teyla-centric, and/or hurt/comfort. Hopefully this will suffice.
Synopsis: Some days are not as good as others, and some days are better.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my betas, R and E. All remaining errors are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and this is solely not-for-profit.
~~~~~~~~~~
Teyla reached for her pack of gear, only to find a hand blocking her way. Her eyes traced the dirty black sleeve upwards to find a rather annoyed looking Doctor McKay glaring at her.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he demanded. He removed his hand only to cross his arms in front of him looking like he was willing to settle in for a good solid argument.
As much as she often enjoyed their discussions, she knew they did not have time for one at this juncture. They were in the process of fleeing a well-armed contingent of Genii, only to discover that the Wraith had chosen this planet for their current culling. While her team was currently fortunate enough to have both the higher ground and cover for the moment, she felt the need to press the advantage and attempt to make it back to the Puddlejumper as quickly as possible. It was her hope they would be able to complete the repairs, or at least have the cloaking mechanism back online prior to any further incidents with either enemy.
Rodney knew all of this, so she did not understand his current predicament. Knowing that he too was injured in the tumble down the ravine, she decided to state the obvious and review his answer carefully for any sign of disorientation or loss of memory. "I am attempting to shoulder my pack so we can continue our escape," she told him carefully.
He huffed, which could be a sign of discomfort, or simple frustration. "I know that," he insisted, and she was pleased to note his awareness. "What I mean is why the hell are you trying to carry said pack when you have a broken arm?"
Oh, that. She looked down to her injury, and it twinged in pain at the attention. "I do not believe it is broken, perhaps only sprained," she advised him. If anything, it was a minor break and something to concern herself with at a later time. Her wrist strongly protested certain movements, but she had experienced injuries both more severe and more painful in the past.
"Because that makes it better," he grumbled. He leaned forward to take the pack from her, but nearly toppled over on top of her instead, only Ronon's quick reflexes preventing further disaster. "I'm fine, Conan," he muttered, righting himself with a distinct lean towards the left.
"We should continue," she urged, pointing her P-90 in the direction of the Puddlejumper.
"And you should have that wrapped," he countered.
She opened her mouth to protest, but found John had stepped between the two of them to stop what could prove to be a lengthy argument. "We're safe for the moment," he told them both. "Let's take the time to splint your wrist and check to see what we can leave behind to travel lighter," he suggested.
She knew her pack carried only the essentials, but had the suspicion that several of those essentials were about to be redistributed amongst the others' belongings. "If it will please you and allow us to continue, you may splint it, but I will carry what I have brought," she insisted.
John nodded, but she doubted that was the end of the discussion. She was proven correct when Ronon produced the container of medical supplies and offered, "We might as well wrap those ribs of yours you don't want to tell us about at the same time."
She rolled her eyes and zipped her vest the rest of the way closed, indicating it was the end of that discussion. Between the lacings on her bodice and the rigid structure of the fitted vest, she had more then enough support for what were likely only two bruised ribs. Rodney looked at her with concern, but both John and Ronon relented, so she considered it a victory.
Once Ronon was done wrapping her wrist in a less than comfortable but likely well-supported manner, she took a piece of gauze from the kit and wet it with her canteen. She used it to mop the side of Rodney's head, despite his complaints, revealing the jagged gash was beginning to close on its own. John dutifully handed her several of the small bandages they had named after an insect, and she applied them to the worse of the areas to insure the healing.
"Now," she said, wiping her hands on her trousers and shouldering her pack before any of the three men could reach it. "Shall we be going?"
She walked on ahead and listened as Rodney less than silently ranted to Ronon that it had been his duty to switch the packs, only he once again used the moniker of "Conan" to do so.
Teyla had originally believed that Rodney had misheard the Satedan's name during their initial acquaintance but, when she overheard him use it correctly on numerous occasions, amended that belief to reflect that it was possibly a term of respect or affection. She had discussed this with Laura Cadman, who had explained, with video references, both the source of that name and the source of the "Xena" name Rodney often called her. Neither woman thought Ronon would be any more offended than Teyla herself was at being compared to a strong and brazen hero, though both wondered if Rodney knew Ronon would take the name as a compliment had he bothered to explain the source.
The hero in question was calmly, for him, pointing out that he had tended to the healing while the others were to have ransacked her pack. Rodney fell silent at that, perhaps seeing the error of his complaint. She was apparently mistaken though as, after only a brief pause for breath, the scientist set in against John, calling his own injury into play as to why he had not completed the task himself. Teyla simply rolled her eyes as she knew none of the men could see her, and gestured, "This way."
The terrain was arduous, but feasible for the rapid travel necessary for their escape. She took point and resolutely refused to turn around despite the numerous offers for assistance and the growing ache in her wrist and ribs. Slowing now would achieve nothing, nor would the coddling the others were insisting upon. She would stop when they reached their goal or when physically prevented from doing so. From the conversation going on behind her, it was possible they were debating the latter.
Though she reached the Puddlejumper first, both John and Rodney moved ahead of her with the final steps. The Gift of the Ancients that they carried within them allowed the door to open without hesitation, despite the damaged status. They ushered her in and Rodney immediately got to work on the cloak, John running diagnostics to make sure they would be capable of flight when the need called for it.
It took her a moment to realize that Ronon had not followed the others inside. She blamed the ache in her head and in her bones for not noticing immediately, even as she set her pack to the side and took a few hesitant steps outside of their shelter to find him. She did not get the chance to call for him, let alone search for him as he appeared around a large tree before she even stepped off the ramp, offering a shrugged, "Covered our tracks," as his reasoning for his delay.
She made a face at that as usually she too would have assisted with that task and knew he only kept it from her due to her injuries. She told him as much and he smiled unrepentantly at her in return.
She shook her head and returned to check on Rodney's progress, letting the door lift shut behind her teammate and herself. Even if Rodney could not repair the cloak, the thick walls and durable metal of the Puddlejumper should protect them from the Genii. The Wraith would likely destroy them should they be found, walls or no, but they could only do so much with what they had. Being that she was not as technically inclined as her Terran teammates, nor did she have the Gift that they possessed, she did what she could and offered a silent prayer to the Ancestors and reached out with her mind just far enough to track the Wraith's progress and placement on the planet.
Rodney was able to initiate the clocking mechanism, but the drain on the damaged systems was too great to also start the engines and escape the planet all together. Instead, they would have to sit and wait it out, and hope the Wraith left sensor range before either Atlantis dialed in looking for them, or their supplies ran out.
Rodney sat back in his chair with a sigh and it looked as though the exhaustion was finally getting to him. For as much as he could complain over the simplest of injuries, when the situation required it he would do what was needed and more when he should barely be conscious. She would tell him that she admired that about him, but knew that it would both further inflate what John called his "ego" and that, in truth, now that the worst of the crisis was past, the complaints would be forthcoming.
True to form, his head lolled to the side just enough to make sure he had the others' attention as he offered a plaintive, "I hurt."
"Suck it up, McKay," Ronon offered. They had barely been in the Puddlejumper for fifteen minutes and he was already pacing. Teyla hoped the wait would not be long for all of their sakes.
"I did suck it up," Rodney insisted. "I hiked on your little death march and worked through a searing headache and blurred vision to make our little hidey hole safe and sound for us. Now I say I deserve some sympathy... or possibly an extra Power Bar from the stash."
Teyla obligingly gave him one, which made John protest that she was giving in to him far too easily and Ronon simply roll his eyes. She did not understand the performance given that they stocked extra without Rodney's knowledge for situations just like this. Well, she amended to herself, possibly not just like this as they had not predicted quite so many difficulties at once when they planned the spares. She fought the urge to shake the fogginess from her head to realign her thoughts knowing that it would both alert the others to her wondering mind as well as simply hurt given the headache she currently had.
She closed her eyes and tried to search out the peace within, turning to meditation to find her center and move pass the pain. She found the task made more difficult as someone was nudging her arm, thankfully the uninjured one, and calling her name. She opened her eyes to find Rodney holding what she recognized as pain medication, John holding a water bottle, and Ronon crossing his arms in an attempt to look intimidating.
"These might work better than finding your inner Zen," Rodney advised, folding the pills into her hand.
Given that they had let her get by thus far, and the expressions on their faces that claimed it was far enough, she gave in and took the pills, and even tucked the bottle of water at her side when John refused to take it back.
She soon felt a sense of warmth flood her body as the aches and pains ebbed into the background. Her eyes drifted closed and she listened to the various sensor checks and the confirmation that yes, the Wraith were still out there, and that the Genii had just walked within visual range, yet continued on their way given the lack of anything to see.
She must have drifted off as after what seemed to be only a moment, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder advising her that she should probably eat. She took the MRE from Rodney as he apologized, "I know it's not as good as what Zelenka's got going on right now, but we'll have to make do." He then followed that with a muttered, "And that Czech bastard had better save some of the good stuff..."
Teyla smiled as she tucked into the small dish of food. The men called it bland, but it was better than some she had consumed in her days. She also knew that, despite how welcome it was, Rodney was correct and it likely paled in comparison to that being served at the celebration due to begin in Atlantis.
She could not remember which holiday they were celebrating this time. There seemed to be so many and they varied from culture to culture. After all her time with the Terrans, it still amazed her that one planet could give birth to so many drastically different beliefs. The Atlantis contingent took what Rodney had called "the shortest path" and chose to celebrate, or at least recognize, any and all that their members wished to mention. John once told her it was likely due to their love for any excuse for a party, but she would like to think it also helped to foster a closeness and sense of bonding amongst all that dwelled in the city.
Ronon asked what the purpose of the party was this time, and Rodney replied with something disparaging, but she could see the light in his eyes and knew he loved the gatherings as well. John swore he only appreciated the food, but she thought, perhaps, he also desired a break from the day to day crises they usually faced.
"You have anything like that?" Ronon asked around a mouthful of pasta.
She swallowed her own bite of food and nodded as she wiped her mouth. "Now would have been the time of the final harvest on Athos before the cold season set in. It was a time of consuming the last of the perishables and preparing preserves for the upcoming season," she explained.
"And the party?" he prompted.
She smiled at the memories, despite the lingering ache in her head. "Was quite rambunctious," she assured him. "There was a mulled drink similar to wine, and little cakes with a fresh cream that was unlike any I have had on any other planet. We would trade small gifts to mark the passing of another cycle of life and survival and dance until the sun both set and rose again," she reminisced.
"Ooh, presents," Rodney enthused. "Any time there are presents, it has to be good. Well, except that dried yak meat or whatever it was. Even you have to admit it was barely passable as food."
She laughed at his enthusiasm, but was forced to shake her head. "Only little things," she insisted. "Small, so they could be easily taken with us when the time came." So they could be taken with as they ran for their lives during the next culling is what she meant, but she could see the full explanation was not necessary. "Rarely food, as that was not something that lasted. Little carvings or tokens, a woven piece of jewelry or a tooled piece of leather, that is what we shared."
"Sounds nice," John commented.
"It was," she agreed and, for the first time in a long time, felt no resentment at what had been lost.
A beeping from the front controls drew her from her thoughts. Both John and Rodney pulled up various readouts, though it was John who commented, "It looks like the Wraith are pulling out." The lack of presence in her own mind confirmed that fact for her.
"Is it wrong to hope they snacked on some of the Genii before they did?" Rodney mused as he punched a series of buttons on his computer pad.
"Yes," all three of his teammates replied in unison. Teyla could understand his reasoning of one enemy countering another, but also felt the need to remind him that here in the Pegasus galaxy, to wish the Wraith upon another was a grave insult.
"Yeah, yeah," he waved them off distractedly. "Two birds and all that. Though, in this case, it would be more like a falcon munching on a sparrow, but still, I get your point," he conceded.
"Are we ready?" John asked in a tone Teyla recognized usually had the added purpose of cutting Rodney off before he said something he would either regret or would need to spend time explaining himself over.
Rodney pulled up another display and offered, "Let's make sure they're out of sensor range before we head for the Gate. Give it another minute or two and we should be good to go."
John nodded and completed a systems check of his own. Ronon picked up the trash from their impromptu meal, and Teyla settled back against her chair, thankful that she would soon be home.
~~~~~~~~~~
Teyla was released from the infirmary early enough to enjoy some of the festivities and a fair amount of the food on offer. However, the medications she was given for the pain of her freshly casted wrist made her slightly sleepy and more than a little light-headed. She begged off early to sleep in her quarters, pleased to find a basket of small chocolates outside her door come morning.
She was unwrapping one of the remaining tiny foiled disks when her door chimed three days later. To her surprise, she opened the door to find all three of her teammates on the other side, various expressions of guilt and anticipation about their faces. "Please, enter," she bade, and allowed them to settle about the room.
Both John and Rodney appeared to be hiding something behind their backs, while Ronon simply shifted from side to side in a way that told her something was on his mind. The trio remained quiet for long enough that she was about to prompt them about the reason for their visit, not that it was unwelcome, just as Rodney let out an exasperated, "Oh for..." He shook his head and muttered something about the others being pathetic and generally let it be known that he was resigned to be the spokesperson for the groups.
"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked when it appeared he was stalled out, or at least stalling, once more.
"Remember the whole escape and rescue from three days ago?" Rodney started, only to stop himself with the amendment, "Of course you do, what with both being there and having the cast to prove it. Anyway, we had that conversation in the Jumper and..."
"And we got to thinking," John interjected. "About what you said about traditions and stuff."
"I was getting there," Rodney huffed, just as Ronon added, "Traditions are important."
While the two men glared at each other, John took the initiative and explained, "We have all these celebrations for Earth holidays, but we really never asked you about any of yours or included anything in the roster for, well, people not from Earth." He ended with a shrug as if that explained it all.
She knew her teammates well enough to know it likely did. "And my mention of Athosian traditions while on the planet has prompted you to ask?" she concluded. It was sweet, but she knew they would be bored or uninterested in hearing about the finer details of the thirteen processes of el'ti'an as quickly as she herself had been when she was forced to listen as a child. True, she wished she knew more now, especially given her usual separation from her people, as it would be another way to connect, but there were things she had let go of to allow her to stay with the Terrans and serve a greater purpose.
"We're not just asking," Ronon offered, surprising her. At her look, he admitted, "We do listen sometimes, you know." He reached behind him and removed a small item wrapped in simple cloth from what she assumed was his waistband and handed it to her. "Harvest gift," he said in explanation.
She unwrapped the cloth to find a small but incredibly sturdy knife in a handmade sheath that looked suspiciously like it was made from the same leather she had seen him buy from a trader several months prior. He had told her the tanning process was similar to what they did on Sateda, and the symbols burned into it spoke of the same. "I am honored," she told him, and offered a bow of thanks.
He grinned and elbowed John in the ribs. John rubbed at the injury with his free hand while his other hand revealed a dark blue velvet box no larger than the palm of his hand. "They're not exact, but as close as we could get them. I can order you the real ones if you want, but I kinda like the extra stuff on the other side."
She looked at him curiously and opened the box to reveal a necklace that looked much like the tags he wore about his own neck. She looked at them carefully and could see the differences he spoke of. The metal was from Atlantis, not Earth, and one side of each oval declared her name in the Terran language, as well as some personal information that she would need to ask just whom they managed to obtain it from and then silence that person from repeating it again. She turned the oval over to find her name etched in the flowing script of the Athosians, followed by what she recognized as glyphs from the Ring of the Ancestors that they traveled through. One was the symbol for Athos, and the other the symbol for Atlantis.
She quickly lifted the chain over her head, letting the oblong disks settle just above her heart. She determinedly was not becoming teary-eyed as she offered another bow of thanks. "This..." she began, but trailed off at a loss for words.
"Just so you know, that part was from both of us," Rodney spoke up. At John's rolled eyes, he added, "Like he could have figure out how to etch those things on his own."
She smiled and obligingly offered him a bow as well. "Then I thank you both," she told him.
Instead of accepting the thanks, or preening like she expected him to do, he removed his own hidden package from behind his back. "Ha! And you thought we were done," he scoffed with glee. He dug into the backpack he had brought with and handed her a data pad.
She took it and looked at it curiously, not sure what to do with it.
He flipped it on and the screen filled with text. "I bribed the anthropologists into giving me everything they had collected from their time with your people. All their notes and descriptions of rituals and songs and all that. There's some recipes too, but Halling apparently made them promise not to let you cook them alone, so we can help if you want." In his usual rapid-fire way, he then hit another button and the text on the screen changed to something more familiar. "There's also their best guest at translating all of this into Athosian. No promise that it's accurate, but hey, if you correct them they will probably be ecstatic instead of pissed, so it's win-win for everyone."
Her hands now trembled, though she doubted it was from the strain of holding a blade and a data pad at the same time. "I do not know what to say," she admitted, her voice sounding choked to her own ears.
"Usually people say 'thanks'," Ronon offered with a grin.
She nodded shakily. "Thank you, all of you, for everything," she said, hoping her tone conveyed her true emotions.
Rodney beamed at her effort before he dug into his pack once more with an enthused, "Now, let's get this party started!" He looked up when he found his prize, tossing her something she barely caught on the flat side of the data pad. "It's not quite little cakes with fresh cream, but it's the closest we could find," he explained.
She looked down at the oddly yellow plastic wrapped sponge cake that neatly declared itself a "Twinkie" and could not help but laugh. Rodney passed out similar packages to the others before producing four cans of soda from the same bag.
"I can't promise dancing, but I can promise that we wish you the best for the upcoming year," John told her. He popped the top on one of the sodas as Ronon set her gifts off to the side and handed her another can.
"To the future," he offered, bumping his can against hers in a toast.
"May it be fruitful and peaceful," she added before taking a deep drought of the bubbly liquid. She tore open the packaging of her little cake with minimal struggle and took a tentative bite, pleased when it turned out to be filled with a sweet cream.
They ate and they talked and they joked and they laughed and they generally did everything she always loved about the harvest celebrations, all within the confines of their own little group. It was not the same, nor should it be, but it was nearly better for the sheer fact that they had put this much effort into something she had mentioned in passing, a sign of true friendship if she ever saw one.
"Good?" John asked, offering her another cake.
She looked at her friends, at her surrogate family, and hoped she conveyed she meant far more than the sweets as she replied, "Very much so."
To her right, she swore she heard Rodney declare, "Ha! Told you she'd like the Twinkies."
~~~~~~~~~~
Author: cat_77
Genre: Gen, Team, OT4 if you squint that way
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~ 4,280 words
Recipient: sci8fi who wanted Team Gen, Friendship, Teyla-centric, and/or hurt/comfort. Hopefully this will suffice.
Synopsis: Some days are not as good as others, and some days are better.
Author's Notes: Thank you to my betas, R and E. All remaining errors are my own.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and this is solely not-for-profit.
~~~~~~~~~~
Teyla reached for her pack of gear, only to find a hand blocking her way. Her eyes traced the dirty black sleeve upwards to find a rather annoyed looking Doctor McKay glaring at her.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" he demanded. He removed his hand only to cross his arms in front of him looking like he was willing to settle in for a good solid argument.
As much as she often enjoyed their discussions, she knew they did not have time for one at this juncture. They were in the process of fleeing a well-armed contingent of Genii, only to discover that the Wraith had chosen this planet for their current culling. While her team was currently fortunate enough to have both the higher ground and cover for the moment, she felt the need to press the advantage and attempt to make it back to the Puddlejumper as quickly as possible. It was her hope they would be able to complete the repairs, or at least have the cloaking mechanism back online prior to any further incidents with either enemy.
Rodney knew all of this, so she did not understand his current predicament. Knowing that he too was injured in the tumble down the ravine, she decided to state the obvious and review his answer carefully for any sign of disorientation or loss of memory. "I am attempting to shoulder my pack so we can continue our escape," she told him carefully.
He huffed, which could be a sign of discomfort, or simple frustration. "I know that," he insisted, and she was pleased to note his awareness. "What I mean is why the hell are you trying to carry said pack when you have a broken arm?"
Oh, that. She looked down to her injury, and it twinged in pain at the attention. "I do not believe it is broken, perhaps only sprained," she advised him. If anything, it was a minor break and something to concern herself with at a later time. Her wrist strongly protested certain movements, but she had experienced injuries both more severe and more painful in the past.
"Because that makes it better," he grumbled. He leaned forward to take the pack from her, but nearly toppled over on top of her instead, only Ronon's quick reflexes preventing further disaster. "I'm fine, Conan," he muttered, righting himself with a distinct lean towards the left.
"We should continue," she urged, pointing her P-90 in the direction of the Puddlejumper.
"And you should have that wrapped," he countered.
She opened her mouth to protest, but found John had stepped between the two of them to stop what could prove to be a lengthy argument. "We're safe for the moment," he told them both. "Let's take the time to splint your wrist and check to see what we can leave behind to travel lighter," he suggested.
She knew her pack carried only the essentials, but had the suspicion that several of those essentials were about to be redistributed amongst the others' belongings. "If it will please you and allow us to continue, you may splint it, but I will carry what I have brought," she insisted.
John nodded, but she doubted that was the end of the discussion. She was proven correct when Ronon produced the container of medical supplies and offered, "We might as well wrap those ribs of yours you don't want to tell us about at the same time."
She rolled her eyes and zipped her vest the rest of the way closed, indicating it was the end of that discussion. Between the lacings on her bodice and the rigid structure of the fitted vest, she had more then enough support for what were likely only two bruised ribs. Rodney looked at her with concern, but both John and Ronon relented, so she considered it a victory.
Once Ronon was done wrapping her wrist in a less than comfortable but likely well-supported manner, she took a piece of gauze from the kit and wet it with her canteen. She used it to mop the side of Rodney's head, despite his complaints, revealing the jagged gash was beginning to close on its own. John dutifully handed her several of the small bandages they had named after an insect, and she applied them to the worse of the areas to insure the healing.
"Now," she said, wiping her hands on her trousers and shouldering her pack before any of the three men could reach it. "Shall we be going?"
She walked on ahead and listened as Rodney less than silently ranted to Ronon that it had been his duty to switch the packs, only he once again used the moniker of "Conan" to do so.
Teyla had originally believed that Rodney had misheard the Satedan's name during their initial acquaintance but, when she overheard him use it correctly on numerous occasions, amended that belief to reflect that it was possibly a term of respect or affection. She had discussed this with Laura Cadman, who had explained, with video references, both the source of that name and the source of the "Xena" name Rodney often called her. Neither woman thought Ronon would be any more offended than Teyla herself was at being compared to a strong and brazen hero, though both wondered if Rodney knew Ronon would take the name as a compliment had he bothered to explain the source.
The hero in question was calmly, for him, pointing out that he had tended to the healing while the others were to have ransacked her pack. Rodney fell silent at that, perhaps seeing the error of his complaint. She was apparently mistaken though as, after only a brief pause for breath, the scientist set in against John, calling his own injury into play as to why he had not completed the task himself. Teyla simply rolled her eyes as she knew none of the men could see her, and gestured, "This way."
The terrain was arduous, but feasible for the rapid travel necessary for their escape. She took point and resolutely refused to turn around despite the numerous offers for assistance and the growing ache in her wrist and ribs. Slowing now would achieve nothing, nor would the coddling the others were insisting upon. She would stop when they reached their goal or when physically prevented from doing so. From the conversation going on behind her, it was possible they were debating the latter.
Though she reached the Puddlejumper first, both John and Rodney moved ahead of her with the final steps. The Gift of the Ancients that they carried within them allowed the door to open without hesitation, despite the damaged status. They ushered her in and Rodney immediately got to work on the cloak, John running diagnostics to make sure they would be capable of flight when the need called for it.
It took her a moment to realize that Ronon had not followed the others inside. She blamed the ache in her head and in her bones for not noticing immediately, even as she set her pack to the side and took a few hesitant steps outside of their shelter to find him. She did not get the chance to call for him, let alone search for him as he appeared around a large tree before she even stepped off the ramp, offering a shrugged, "Covered our tracks," as his reasoning for his delay.
She made a face at that as usually she too would have assisted with that task and knew he only kept it from her due to her injuries. She told him as much and he smiled unrepentantly at her in return.
She shook her head and returned to check on Rodney's progress, letting the door lift shut behind her teammate and herself. Even if Rodney could not repair the cloak, the thick walls and durable metal of the Puddlejumper should protect them from the Genii. The Wraith would likely destroy them should they be found, walls or no, but they could only do so much with what they had. Being that she was not as technically inclined as her Terran teammates, nor did she have the Gift that they possessed, she did what she could and offered a silent prayer to the Ancestors and reached out with her mind just far enough to track the Wraith's progress and placement on the planet.
Rodney was able to initiate the clocking mechanism, but the drain on the damaged systems was too great to also start the engines and escape the planet all together. Instead, they would have to sit and wait it out, and hope the Wraith left sensor range before either Atlantis dialed in looking for them, or their supplies ran out.
Rodney sat back in his chair with a sigh and it looked as though the exhaustion was finally getting to him. For as much as he could complain over the simplest of injuries, when the situation required it he would do what was needed and more when he should barely be conscious. She would tell him that she admired that about him, but knew that it would both further inflate what John called his "ego" and that, in truth, now that the worst of the crisis was past, the complaints would be forthcoming.
True to form, his head lolled to the side just enough to make sure he had the others' attention as he offered a plaintive, "I hurt."
"Suck it up, McKay," Ronon offered. They had barely been in the Puddlejumper for fifteen minutes and he was already pacing. Teyla hoped the wait would not be long for all of their sakes.
"I did suck it up," Rodney insisted. "I hiked on your little death march and worked through a searing headache and blurred vision to make our little hidey hole safe and sound for us. Now I say I deserve some sympathy... or possibly an extra Power Bar from the stash."
Teyla obligingly gave him one, which made John protest that she was giving in to him far too easily and Ronon simply roll his eyes. She did not understand the performance given that they stocked extra without Rodney's knowledge for situations just like this. Well, she amended to herself, possibly not just like this as they had not predicted quite so many difficulties at once when they planned the spares. She fought the urge to shake the fogginess from her head to realign her thoughts knowing that it would both alert the others to her wondering mind as well as simply hurt given the headache she currently had.
She closed her eyes and tried to search out the peace within, turning to meditation to find her center and move pass the pain. She found the task made more difficult as someone was nudging her arm, thankfully the uninjured one, and calling her name. She opened her eyes to find Rodney holding what she recognized as pain medication, John holding a water bottle, and Ronon crossing his arms in an attempt to look intimidating.
"These might work better than finding your inner Zen," Rodney advised, folding the pills into her hand.
Given that they had let her get by thus far, and the expressions on their faces that claimed it was far enough, she gave in and took the pills, and even tucked the bottle of water at her side when John refused to take it back.
She soon felt a sense of warmth flood her body as the aches and pains ebbed into the background. Her eyes drifted closed and she listened to the various sensor checks and the confirmation that yes, the Wraith were still out there, and that the Genii had just walked within visual range, yet continued on their way given the lack of anything to see.
She must have drifted off as after what seemed to be only a moment, she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder advising her that she should probably eat. She took the MRE from Rodney as he apologized, "I know it's not as good as what Zelenka's got going on right now, but we'll have to make do." He then followed that with a muttered, "And that Czech bastard had better save some of the good stuff..."
Teyla smiled as she tucked into the small dish of food. The men called it bland, but it was better than some she had consumed in her days. She also knew that, despite how welcome it was, Rodney was correct and it likely paled in comparison to that being served at the celebration due to begin in Atlantis.
She could not remember which holiday they were celebrating this time. There seemed to be so many and they varied from culture to culture. After all her time with the Terrans, it still amazed her that one planet could give birth to so many drastically different beliefs. The Atlantis contingent took what Rodney had called "the shortest path" and chose to celebrate, or at least recognize, any and all that their members wished to mention. John once told her it was likely due to their love for any excuse for a party, but she would like to think it also helped to foster a closeness and sense of bonding amongst all that dwelled in the city.
Ronon asked what the purpose of the party was this time, and Rodney replied with something disparaging, but she could see the light in his eyes and knew he loved the gatherings as well. John swore he only appreciated the food, but she thought, perhaps, he also desired a break from the day to day crises they usually faced.
"You have anything like that?" Ronon asked around a mouthful of pasta.
She swallowed her own bite of food and nodded as she wiped her mouth. "Now would have been the time of the final harvest on Athos before the cold season set in. It was a time of consuming the last of the perishables and preparing preserves for the upcoming season," she explained.
"And the party?" he prompted.
She smiled at the memories, despite the lingering ache in her head. "Was quite rambunctious," she assured him. "There was a mulled drink similar to wine, and little cakes with a fresh cream that was unlike any I have had on any other planet. We would trade small gifts to mark the passing of another cycle of life and survival and dance until the sun both set and rose again," she reminisced.
"Ooh, presents," Rodney enthused. "Any time there are presents, it has to be good. Well, except that dried yak meat or whatever it was. Even you have to admit it was barely passable as food."
She laughed at his enthusiasm, but was forced to shake her head. "Only little things," she insisted. "Small, so they could be easily taken with us when the time came." So they could be taken with as they ran for their lives during the next culling is what she meant, but she could see the full explanation was not necessary. "Rarely food, as that was not something that lasted. Little carvings or tokens, a woven piece of jewelry or a tooled piece of leather, that is what we shared."
"Sounds nice," John commented.
"It was," she agreed and, for the first time in a long time, felt no resentment at what had been lost.
A beeping from the front controls drew her from her thoughts. Both John and Rodney pulled up various readouts, though it was John who commented, "It looks like the Wraith are pulling out." The lack of presence in her own mind confirmed that fact for her.
"Is it wrong to hope they snacked on some of the Genii before they did?" Rodney mused as he punched a series of buttons on his computer pad.
"Yes," all three of his teammates replied in unison. Teyla could understand his reasoning of one enemy countering another, but also felt the need to remind him that here in the Pegasus galaxy, to wish the Wraith upon another was a grave insult.
"Yeah, yeah," he waved them off distractedly. "Two birds and all that. Though, in this case, it would be more like a falcon munching on a sparrow, but still, I get your point," he conceded.
"Are we ready?" John asked in a tone Teyla recognized usually had the added purpose of cutting Rodney off before he said something he would either regret or would need to spend time explaining himself over.
Rodney pulled up another display and offered, "Let's make sure they're out of sensor range before we head for the Gate. Give it another minute or two and we should be good to go."
John nodded and completed a systems check of his own. Ronon picked up the trash from their impromptu meal, and Teyla settled back against her chair, thankful that she would soon be home.
~~~~~~~~~~
Teyla was released from the infirmary early enough to enjoy some of the festivities and a fair amount of the food on offer. However, the medications she was given for the pain of her freshly casted wrist made her slightly sleepy and more than a little light-headed. She begged off early to sleep in her quarters, pleased to find a basket of small chocolates outside her door come morning.
She was unwrapping one of the remaining tiny foiled disks when her door chimed three days later. To her surprise, she opened the door to find all three of her teammates on the other side, various expressions of guilt and anticipation about their faces. "Please, enter," she bade, and allowed them to settle about the room.
Both John and Rodney appeared to be hiding something behind their backs, while Ronon simply shifted from side to side in a way that told her something was on his mind. The trio remained quiet for long enough that she was about to prompt them about the reason for their visit, not that it was unwelcome, just as Rodney let out an exasperated, "Oh for..." He shook his head and muttered something about the others being pathetic and generally let it be known that he was resigned to be the spokesperson for the groups.
"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked when it appeared he was stalled out, or at least stalling, once more.
"Remember the whole escape and rescue from three days ago?" Rodney started, only to stop himself with the amendment, "Of course you do, what with both being there and having the cast to prove it. Anyway, we had that conversation in the Jumper and..."
"And we got to thinking," John interjected. "About what you said about traditions and stuff."
"I was getting there," Rodney huffed, just as Ronon added, "Traditions are important."
While the two men glared at each other, John took the initiative and explained, "We have all these celebrations for Earth holidays, but we really never asked you about any of yours or included anything in the roster for, well, people not from Earth." He ended with a shrug as if that explained it all.
She knew her teammates well enough to know it likely did. "And my mention of Athosian traditions while on the planet has prompted you to ask?" she concluded. It was sweet, but she knew they would be bored or uninterested in hearing about the finer details of the thirteen processes of el'ti'an as quickly as she herself had been when she was forced to listen as a child. True, she wished she knew more now, especially given her usual separation from her people, as it would be another way to connect, but there were things she had let go of to allow her to stay with the Terrans and serve a greater purpose.
"We're not just asking," Ronon offered, surprising her. At her look, he admitted, "We do listen sometimes, you know." He reached behind him and removed a small item wrapped in simple cloth from what she assumed was his waistband and handed it to her. "Harvest gift," he said in explanation.
She unwrapped the cloth to find a small but incredibly sturdy knife in a handmade sheath that looked suspiciously like it was made from the same leather she had seen him buy from a trader several months prior. He had told her the tanning process was similar to what they did on Sateda, and the symbols burned into it spoke of the same. "I am honored," she told him, and offered a bow of thanks.
He grinned and elbowed John in the ribs. John rubbed at the injury with his free hand while his other hand revealed a dark blue velvet box no larger than the palm of his hand. "They're not exact, but as close as we could get them. I can order you the real ones if you want, but I kinda like the extra stuff on the other side."
She looked at him curiously and opened the box to reveal a necklace that looked much like the tags he wore about his own neck. She looked at them carefully and could see the differences he spoke of. The metal was from Atlantis, not Earth, and one side of each oval declared her name in the Terran language, as well as some personal information that she would need to ask just whom they managed to obtain it from and then silence that person from repeating it again. She turned the oval over to find her name etched in the flowing script of the Athosians, followed by what she recognized as glyphs from the Ring of the Ancestors that they traveled through. One was the symbol for Athos, and the other the symbol for Atlantis.
She quickly lifted the chain over her head, letting the oblong disks settle just above her heart. She determinedly was not becoming teary-eyed as she offered another bow of thanks. "This..." she began, but trailed off at a loss for words.
"Just so you know, that part was from both of us," Rodney spoke up. At John's rolled eyes, he added, "Like he could have figure out how to etch those things on his own."
She smiled and obligingly offered him a bow as well. "Then I thank you both," she told him.
Instead of accepting the thanks, or preening like she expected him to do, he removed his own hidden package from behind his back. "Ha! And you thought we were done," he scoffed with glee. He dug into the backpack he had brought with and handed her a data pad.
She took it and looked at it curiously, not sure what to do with it.
He flipped it on and the screen filled with text. "I bribed the anthropologists into giving me everything they had collected from their time with your people. All their notes and descriptions of rituals and songs and all that. There's some recipes too, but Halling apparently made them promise not to let you cook them alone, so we can help if you want." In his usual rapid-fire way, he then hit another button and the text on the screen changed to something more familiar. "There's also their best guest at translating all of this into Athosian. No promise that it's accurate, but hey, if you correct them they will probably be ecstatic instead of pissed, so it's win-win for everyone."
Her hands now trembled, though she doubted it was from the strain of holding a blade and a data pad at the same time. "I do not know what to say," she admitted, her voice sounding choked to her own ears.
"Usually people say 'thanks'," Ronon offered with a grin.
She nodded shakily. "Thank you, all of you, for everything," she said, hoping her tone conveyed her true emotions.
Rodney beamed at her effort before he dug into his pack once more with an enthused, "Now, let's get this party started!" He looked up when he found his prize, tossing her something she barely caught on the flat side of the data pad. "It's not quite little cakes with fresh cream, but it's the closest we could find," he explained.
She looked down at the oddly yellow plastic wrapped sponge cake that neatly declared itself a "Twinkie" and could not help but laugh. Rodney passed out similar packages to the others before producing four cans of soda from the same bag.
"I can't promise dancing, but I can promise that we wish you the best for the upcoming year," John told her. He popped the top on one of the sodas as Ronon set her gifts off to the side and handed her another can.
"To the future," he offered, bumping his can against hers in a toast.
"May it be fruitful and peaceful," she added before taking a deep drought of the bubbly liquid. She tore open the packaging of her little cake with minimal struggle and took a tentative bite, pleased when it turned out to be filled with a sweet cream.
They ate and they talked and they joked and they laughed and they generally did everything she always loved about the harvest celebrations, all within the confines of their own little group. It was not the same, nor should it be, but it was nearly better for the sheer fact that they had put this much effort into something she had mentioned in passing, a sign of true friendship if she ever saw one.
"Good?" John asked, offering her another cake.
She looked at her friends, at her surrogate family, and hoped she conveyed she meant far more than the sweets as she replied, "Very much so."
To her right, she swore she heard Rodney declare, "Ha! Told you she'd like the Twinkies."
~~~~~~~~~~