Fic: Sing to Me the Song of the Stars (Emmagan/Sheppard, PG)
Title: Sing to Me the Song of the Stars
Author: starry_haze
Recipient: tielan
Pairing: John/Teyla
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,540
Disclaimer: All creative rights to Stargate Atlantis and the characters belong to the original creator(s). "Only Hope" is not my song. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Oh, sweetie. Way too many plot bunnies died in the making of this fic, and my inner perfectionist is still in knots about this. tielan, I really hope you like it. At the least, know that I really, really tried. And I'll find a way to make it up to you if you don't like it.
Also, many thanks to alyse and moonlettuce for having the patience to deal with delinquents like me. You two are awesome.
Summary: Teyla's dreams are always haunted-by death and sorrow and tragedy, donning a multitude of guises.
Sing to Me the Song of the Stars
Teyla's dreams are always haunted-by death and sorrow and tragedy, donning a multitude of guises. The grief clings like desperation, frosty cobwebs around her memories-visions she relives in waking and sleeping. She cries and tosses among the furs, sweating and freezing-her heart quaking, shivering, restless-until love envelops her and lifts her into a mother's embrace. The sobs soften, punctuated by deeper breaths.
Mother, why can I not dream as the other children do-of flying and laughter and harvest?
-- My dear child, even in dreams, a leader must bear the burdens of her people.
The strains of an Ancient lullaby filter into Teyla's consciousness, and the pain eases-enough for the closing of eyes and the nodding of heads.
*
A week after the Athosians move to the mainland, Teyla concedes that "separation anxiety" may be a fitting term for her restlessness. She wanders the halls-perhaps towards the kitchen for a "midnight snack"; surely, one of the Lanteans is doing the same-when she hears the tinkering sounds of a musical instrument trickling through the closed doors of someone's quarters.
She approaches the doors and hesitates for a moment before knocking. "Major Sheppard?" The music stops. "May I join you?" The sounds of bed sheets ruffling and belongings shuffling commence before a husky "Come in!" answers her. Her hands hover over the control crystals and the doors slide open to reveal a casual-looking Major John Sheppard seated on his bed with a guitar (that is the name he tells her when she asks).
He gestures to the chair next to his bed.
"You sleepin' okay?"
Teyla nods, tidying her tousled hair before seating herself, hands folded neatly in her lap.
He glances at her apologetically. "I hope my, uh, guitar playing isn't bothering you. Didn't think anybody could hear me."
She smiles. "Major, I assure you, my ears are no worse for the listening. If I may comment on your singing, however..."
"My singing?" A look of horror covers his face.
Teyla laughs, her eyes shining. "Let us take this 'one step at a time'-as they say." She gazes behind him. "Now, this man on your wall. Does he play this... guitar also?"
*
The arts of meditation and bantos fighting will aid you, Charin says. Teyla heeds her words and enlists the techniques to cope with the nightmares that wage war on her sleep. She trains herself to unwind, to feel the stress release from her joints and muscles and dissipate into the wind. She learns to still her racing heartbeat by inhaling deeply, slowly-letting the air and tranquility fill her being, crowding out useless thoughts, freeing her mind.
She refuses to let the dreams unsettle her, to break her apart like the jugs that store Ruus wine-she will remain strong for her people, even as the pain stings like a fresh fall. Tagan tells her the dreams are lessons in compassion, humanity-the qualities that separate her from the Wraith-because she must never stop caring, never stop hurting-not-shattering, as many times as she witnesses the same wretched fate.
Promises seem so simple when circumstances are kind. All her training and discipline crumble in the face of real tragedy-as all good intentions do. The nightmares that surface after Tagan's passing in childbirth leave Teyla gasping, tear-stained, with only the music of the Ring Ceremony to comfort her as she withers and weeps.
*
Teyla never quite dreams of flying-although she is certain Major Sheppard does-but the occasional nightly visits calm her, dispelling the unfamiliarity that sharpens her sleeplessness. With time, John's strumming takes on a life of its own-Teyla begins to sing along and hum fragments of Athosian songs he deciphers the chords to, and John starts printing out lyric sheets and tabs for her. Teyla is vaguely aware at times that she needs not these visits-that she needs no plucked strings to soothe her into sleep that night, for her body is at peace enough to slumber on its own-and yet she is drawn by the company, by the major's easy smile and the light in the eyes-the way he trusts and respects her. She leaves his quarters with a lightness in her step, a renewed hope in her heart, and the reminder that her people's loyalty is not misplaced. She is thankful for his unspoken understanding, for the lack of demands he places on her in these appearances in his quarters, for the sanctuary he provides in the midst of chaos.
It is all the more jarring, then, the night she dreams of a Wraith encountering her on Atlantis, of waking within the dream and rushing to Major Sheppard's quarters-only to find his husk. She feels invaded, as though someone entered the only tent she still felt safe in. Teyla knows that as long as she performs her duties up to task and maintains her usual moods, Major Sheppard will not pry, but for the first time in Atlantis, she allows her nightmares to shake her, upset her, letting them slip into the realm of acknowledgment in open air. At first, she regrets her show of weakness-she is certain that Kate thinks her crazy, and in her state, Major Sheppard's behavior is simply confounding her-but the layers of her secret past peel away, and she is grateful and terrified and empowered and uncertain. She cannot celebrate or mourn, for the Wraith are nearly upon them, but once the greatest threat passes, Elizabeth relays in a quiet moment the words that Major Sheppard told her:
Teyla's one of the strongest people I know. The fact that she's been able to hold it together until now after what she's been through in her life...
Major Sheppard knows Teyla is a fighter, Elizabeth says simply, and Elizabeth smiles at her with a leader's regard.
/
Time passes. Major Sheppard becomes [Lieutenant] Colonel Sheppard becomes John (with occasional slips back and forth in formality). Atlantis changes planets. Commanders come and go. Living quarters are rearranged. The visits continue-even when the two of them are heartbroken over the expedition's many losses, when John can hardly look at her expanding belly, and after Torren is born-a habit they cannot exactly rid themselves of, even as the unspoken words between them begin to take on shades of misunderstanding, rather than the former understanding, and the timing grows irregular and erratic.
Teyla wonders if John is speaking to her through the songs, especially as regret mounts in the lyrics of the songs he chooses-songs of heartache, love lost, and "the one that got away"-but she shrugs off the thought and rationalizes it as the nature of Earth songs, always about love and its many misfortunes. He cannot bear to say much-in actual speech-but she sees the softness return to his eyes, day by day, and the growing affection he displays towards Torren-even if that affection is decidedly subtle and slightly awkward at times.
The anger leaves him, but the caution remains-as the line of friendship they dance on grows clearer, even as John wishes to cross and not cross it all the same.
John maintains his distance, and a part of Teyla knows this is right, but the other part screams in silence.
*
On Earth, John slumps over in sleep on Teyla's lumpy couch, despite her many protests-his guitar beside him.
"I just think you need some company. That's all," he murmurs before dozing off.
He does not mention the empty crib or the man she left behind in Pegasus, but Teyla knows. John lingers in protective stance around her, as though he fears he is all she has. He takes her hand and leads her through parks and museums, to football games and Fisherman's Wharf, on ferries and sandy beaches-basking in the glow of her wonder as though he could never tire of it.
He plays the same song each night-a beautiful song about galaxies and stars and dreams.
One day, she tells him, "This song you sing-of 'Only Hope'-you sing with much conviction." She looks at him wistfully. "Is there a love you wish to tell me about?" Her voice is joking, but her eyes are aching. John sees the hope flashing in her eyes-a hope for second chances, for their lives reborn, for the tearing down of walls this planet renders so insignificant-because subsistence isn't living; it's merely breathing, she realizes.
"It's about us," he croaks. His hand reaches for the scruff at the back of his neck, "I-I didn't know what to say. I could only-" He stops speaking when Teyla takes a step towards him.
"If this song is a request, I accept," she whispers. She lowers her head and takes his shoulders, waiting for him to return the gesture. She feels his hands lowering her arms-confusion and panic seize her for a moment-until the warm touch of his lips grazes her forehead and his arms encircles her.
*
A young girl once wished to dream of flying. She now knows what it feels like to soar in her dreams.
The End
Author: starry_haze
Recipient: tielan
Pairing: John/Teyla
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,540
Disclaimer: All creative rights to Stargate Atlantis and the characters belong to the original creator(s). "Only Hope" is not my song. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Oh, sweetie. Way too many plot bunnies died in the making of this fic, and my inner perfectionist is still in knots about this. tielan, I really hope you like it. At the least, know that I really, really tried. And I'll find a way to make it up to you if you don't like it.
Also, many thanks to alyse and moonlettuce for having the patience to deal with delinquents like me. You two are awesome.
Summary: Teyla's dreams are always haunted-by death and sorrow and tragedy, donning a multitude of guises.
Sing to Me the Song of the Stars
Teyla's dreams are always haunted-by death and sorrow and tragedy, donning a multitude of guises. The grief clings like desperation, frosty cobwebs around her memories-visions she relives in waking and sleeping. She cries and tosses among the furs, sweating and freezing-her heart quaking, shivering, restless-until love envelops her and lifts her into a mother's embrace. The sobs soften, punctuated by deeper breaths.
Mother, why can I not dream as the other children do-of flying and laughter and harvest?
-- My dear child, even in dreams, a leader must bear the burdens of her people.
The strains of an Ancient lullaby filter into Teyla's consciousness, and the pain eases-enough for the closing of eyes and the nodding of heads.
*
A week after the Athosians move to the mainland, Teyla concedes that "separation anxiety" may be a fitting term for her restlessness. She wanders the halls-perhaps towards the kitchen for a "midnight snack"; surely, one of the Lanteans is doing the same-when she hears the tinkering sounds of a musical instrument trickling through the closed doors of someone's quarters.
She approaches the doors and hesitates for a moment before knocking. "Major Sheppard?" The music stops. "May I join you?" The sounds of bed sheets ruffling and belongings shuffling commence before a husky "Come in!" answers her. Her hands hover over the control crystals and the doors slide open to reveal a casual-looking Major John Sheppard seated on his bed with a guitar (that is the name he tells her when she asks).
He gestures to the chair next to his bed.
"You sleepin' okay?"
Teyla nods, tidying her tousled hair before seating herself, hands folded neatly in her lap.
He glances at her apologetically. "I hope my, uh, guitar playing isn't bothering you. Didn't think anybody could hear me."
She smiles. "Major, I assure you, my ears are no worse for the listening. If I may comment on your singing, however..."
"My singing?" A look of horror covers his face.
Teyla laughs, her eyes shining. "Let us take this 'one step at a time'-as they say." She gazes behind him. "Now, this man on your wall. Does he play this... guitar also?"
*
The arts of meditation and bantos fighting will aid you, Charin says. Teyla heeds her words and enlists the techniques to cope with the nightmares that wage war on her sleep. She trains herself to unwind, to feel the stress release from her joints and muscles and dissipate into the wind. She learns to still her racing heartbeat by inhaling deeply, slowly-letting the air and tranquility fill her being, crowding out useless thoughts, freeing her mind.
She refuses to let the dreams unsettle her, to break her apart like the jugs that store Ruus wine-she will remain strong for her people, even as the pain stings like a fresh fall. Tagan tells her the dreams are lessons in compassion, humanity-the qualities that separate her from the Wraith-because she must never stop caring, never stop hurting-not-shattering, as many times as she witnesses the same wretched fate.
Promises seem so simple when circumstances are kind. All her training and discipline crumble in the face of real tragedy-as all good intentions do. The nightmares that surface after Tagan's passing in childbirth leave Teyla gasping, tear-stained, with only the music of the Ring Ceremony to comfort her as she withers and weeps.
*
Teyla never quite dreams of flying-although she is certain Major Sheppard does-but the occasional nightly visits calm her, dispelling the unfamiliarity that sharpens her sleeplessness. With time, John's strumming takes on a life of its own-Teyla begins to sing along and hum fragments of Athosian songs he deciphers the chords to, and John starts printing out lyric sheets and tabs for her. Teyla is vaguely aware at times that she needs not these visits-that she needs no plucked strings to soothe her into sleep that night, for her body is at peace enough to slumber on its own-and yet she is drawn by the company, by the major's easy smile and the light in the eyes-the way he trusts and respects her. She leaves his quarters with a lightness in her step, a renewed hope in her heart, and the reminder that her people's loyalty is not misplaced. She is thankful for his unspoken understanding, for the lack of demands he places on her in these appearances in his quarters, for the sanctuary he provides in the midst of chaos.
It is all the more jarring, then, the night she dreams of a Wraith encountering her on Atlantis, of waking within the dream and rushing to Major Sheppard's quarters-only to find his husk. She feels invaded, as though someone entered the only tent she still felt safe in. Teyla knows that as long as she performs her duties up to task and maintains her usual moods, Major Sheppard will not pry, but for the first time in Atlantis, she allows her nightmares to shake her, upset her, letting them slip into the realm of acknowledgment in open air. At first, she regrets her show of weakness-she is certain that Kate thinks her crazy, and in her state, Major Sheppard's behavior is simply confounding her-but the layers of her secret past peel away, and she is grateful and terrified and empowered and uncertain. She cannot celebrate or mourn, for the Wraith are nearly upon them, but once the greatest threat passes, Elizabeth relays in a quiet moment the words that Major Sheppard told her:
Teyla's one of the strongest people I know. The fact that she's been able to hold it together until now after what she's been through in her life...
Major Sheppard knows Teyla is a fighter, Elizabeth says simply, and Elizabeth smiles at her with a leader's regard.
/
Time passes. Major Sheppard becomes [Lieutenant] Colonel Sheppard becomes John (with occasional slips back and forth in formality). Atlantis changes planets. Commanders come and go. Living quarters are rearranged. The visits continue-even when the two of them are heartbroken over the expedition's many losses, when John can hardly look at her expanding belly, and after Torren is born-a habit they cannot exactly rid themselves of, even as the unspoken words between them begin to take on shades of misunderstanding, rather than the former understanding, and the timing grows irregular and erratic.
Teyla wonders if John is speaking to her through the songs, especially as regret mounts in the lyrics of the songs he chooses-songs of heartache, love lost, and "the one that got away"-but she shrugs off the thought and rationalizes it as the nature of Earth songs, always about love and its many misfortunes. He cannot bear to say much-in actual speech-but she sees the softness return to his eyes, day by day, and the growing affection he displays towards Torren-even if that affection is decidedly subtle and slightly awkward at times.
The anger leaves him, but the caution remains-as the line of friendship they dance on grows clearer, even as John wishes to cross and not cross it all the same.
John maintains his distance, and a part of Teyla knows this is right, but the other part screams in silence.
*
On Earth, John slumps over in sleep on Teyla's lumpy couch, despite her many protests-his guitar beside him.
"I just think you need some company. That's all," he murmurs before dozing off.
He does not mention the empty crib or the man she left behind in Pegasus, but Teyla knows. John lingers in protective stance around her, as though he fears he is all she has. He takes her hand and leads her through parks and museums, to football games and Fisherman's Wharf, on ferries and sandy beaches-basking in the glow of her wonder as though he could never tire of it.
He plays the same song each night-a beautiful song about galaxies and stars and dreams.
One day, she tells him, "This song you sing-of 'Only Hope'-you sing with much conviction." She looks at him wistfully. "Is there a love you wish to tell me about?" Her voice is joking, but her eyes are aching. John sees the hope flashing in her eyes-a hope for second chances, for their lives reborn, for the tearing down of walls this planet renders so insignificant-because subsistence isn't living; it's merely breathing, she realizes.
"It's about us," he croaks. His hand reaches for the scruff at the back of his neck, "I-I didn't know what to say. I could only-" He stops speaking when Teyla takes a step towards him.
"If this song is a request, I accept," she whispers. She lowers her head and takes his shoulders, waiting for him to return the gesture. She feels his hands lowering her arms-confusion and panic seize her for a moment-until the warm touch of his lips grazes her forehead and his arms encircles her.
*
A young girl once wished to dream of flying. She now knows what it feels like to soar in her dreams.
The End