Fic: Security (Teyla, Bates gen)
Title: Security
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Teyla, Bates
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit being made from this.
Summary: Teyla says goodbye. Set after Siege III. 600 words.
Notes: Written for raisintorte, whose requests were angsty sex, working together pre siege, sharing a moment (shippy or not). I had hoped to write you a more meaty story, but it didn't work out in time. I hope this will do for now.
Thank you to chopchica for the sun and sand beta.
"Only a few minutes, now," Carson murmurs. "The surgery went well, but he still has multiple injuries that are taking it out of him. I wouldn't have even brought him out of sedation, but we just don't know enough about gate travel and brain injuries."
"I'm sure you have done the right thing," Teyla murmurs, brushing his shoulder as she steps forward towards the curtained area. Carson pats her hand, and then she is alone. She parts the cloth, and there he is, right before her. So very broken and fragile. So unlike the head of security she has faced down so many times before.
She's not sure why she's here. She is not looking for absolution, has not felt guilty for striking him once. And he will not apologize for his provocation, not even if the Wraith that did this to him threatened him with pain of death once more, and she were the only one who could save him.
"Sergeant," she calls softly, half-hoping he does not hear her. But his eyes blink slowly. Matter is caught in the corners of his eyelashes, weighing the lids down and making it a laborious process to open them. His gaze moves sluggishly about the room, finally fixing on her face. Pain or drugs glaze his eyes. Probably both.
She should say something more, but she has no idea what. His lips begin to move, but she cannot read them. Cannot hear the sounds that he is trying to make.
"I am sorry?" She bends closer.
His breath shakes against her cheek. "Water," he rasps.
She looks around the room, but there is no cup, no pitcher. "I will ask Carson," she says, turning away to do so. Before she can take a step, his finger brushes across the mound under her thumb. She stares down, sure the touch was an accident, but his fingers spread again, straining for contact. The pad of his index finger is calloused rough like river sand, and it catches on the soft skin of her inner wrist.
"Do you need something else?" she finally asks. She feels slow and dim-witted, as if she were the one sedated. "Are you in pain?"
He raises his chin a fraction. Not quite a nod, she takes it as a request to move closer.
"Safe?" he asks.
Guilt does touch her then. Guilt and anger that no one has given him the reassurances anyone in his situation would need.
"Yes, you are safe," she says firmly, then adds, "We are all safe. The Daedalus arrived just in time."
His chin dips back down, his eyes close once again. She thinks relief has turned to rest, but when she starts to pull away, his eyes open and his fingers tighten on her own.
At some point, she has clasped his hand, and she doesn't even remember doing so.
"Safe," he repeats, but it is not a question this time. "Keep them safe."
Teyla nearly reels backwards at the request. She thinks maybe he doesn't recognize her, because she cannot imagine him entrusting her in such a way. The idea that he does, that he has come to understand her worth, is a soft fluttering of a tight-furled bud opening in her gut. She hates that his estimation means anything at all to her. That the opinion of one stubborn, impossible man could weigh on her soul. Yet it does.
"I will," she promises him, speaking slowly in his ear. "I will care for them as my own people."
His eyes close again. His breathing eases, though she cannot tell if he sleeps. She squeezes his hand, then steps away.
"Did he say anything?" Carson asks.
"He wants water," she says, her steps not hesitating.
She has a city to secure.
Author: tigerlady
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Teyla, Bates
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit being made from this.
Summary: Teyla says goodbye. Set after Siege III. 600 words.
Notes: Written for raisintorte, whose requests were angsty sex, working together pre siege, sharing a moment (shippy or not). I had hoped to write you a more meaty story, but it didn't work out in time. I hope this will do for now.
Thank you to chopchica for the sun and sand beta.
"Only a few minutes, now," Carson murmurs. "The surgery went well, but he still has multiple injuries that are taking it out of him. I wouldn't have even brought him out of sedation, but we just don't know enough about gate travel and brain injuries."
"I'm sure you have done the right thing," Teyla murmurs, brushing his shoulder as she steps forward towards the curtained area. Carson pats her hand, and then she is alone. She parts the cloth, and there he is, right before her. So very broken and fragile. So unlike the head of security she has faced down so many times before.
She's not sure why she's here. She is not looking for absolution, has not felt guilty for striking him once. And he will not apologize for his provocation, not even if the Wraith that did this to him threatened him with pain of death once more, and she were the only one who could save him.
"Sergeant," she calls softly, half-hoping he does not hear her. But his eyes blink slowly. Matter is caught in the corners of his eyelashes, weighing the lids down and making it a laborious process to open them. His gaze moves sluggishly about the room, finally fixing on her face. Pain or drugs glaze his eyes. Probably both.
She should say something more, but she has no idea what. His lips begin to move, but she cannot read them. Cannot hear the sounds that he is trying to make.
"I am sorry?" She bends closer.
His breath shakes against her cheek. "Water," he rasps.
She looks around the room, but there is no cup, no pitcher. "I will ask Carson," she says, turning away to do so. Before she can take a step, his finger brushes across the mound under her thumb. She stares down, sure the touch was an accident, but his fingers spread again, straining for contact. The pad of his index finger is calloused rough like river sand, and it catches on the soft skin of her inner wrist.
"Do you need something else?" she finally asks. She feels slow and dim-witted, as if she were the one sedated. "Are you in pain?"
He raises his chin a fraction. Not quite a nod, she takes it as a request to move closer.
"Safe?" he asks.
Guilt does touch her then. Guilt and anger that no one has given him the reassurances anyone in his situation would need.
"Yes, you are safe," she says firmly, then adds, "We are all safe. The Daedalus arrived just in time."
His chin dips back down, his eyes close once again. She thinks relief has turned to rest, but when she starts to pull away, his eyes open and his fingers tighten on her own.
At some point, she has clasped his hand, and she doesn't even remember doing so.
"Safe," he repeats, but it is not a question this time. "Keep them safe."
Teyla nearly reels backwards at the request. She thinks maybe he doesn't recognize her, because she cannot imagine him entrusting her in such a way. The idea that he does, that he has come to understand her worth, is a soft fluttering of a tight-furled bud opening in her gut. She hates that his estimation means anything at all to her. That the opinion of one stubborn, impossible man could weigh on her soul. Yet it does.
"I will," she promises him, speaking slowly in his ear. "I will care for them as my own people."
His eyes close again. His breathing eases, though she cannot tell if he sleeps. She squeezes his hand, then steps away.
"Did he say anything?" Carson asks.
"He wants water," she says, her steps not hesitating.
She has a city to secure.