Fic: Walk a Klick (Rodney/Teyla)
This was supposed to be a tiny little pinch hit, but it kinda got away from me. Oops?
Title: Walk a Klick
Pairing: Rodney/Teyla
Rating: PG
Length: ~8,000 words
Summary: Teyla's head was killing her.
A/N: Written for steammmpunk's sticksandsnark prompt of "Canon role switching, AU, culture clash." wychwood and siriaeve deserve lots of credit for the last-minute beta and reassurance. Thank you for laughing at my jokes and questioning my bizarre punctuation!
Walk a Klick
If he was unconscious, it was for only an instant. He remembered everything except actually hitting the floor. There was the flash and then-blinking, lying on his back; and Teyla next to him, groaning softly.
He got to his feet. He felt...okay, actually. Good. He flexed his shoulders, tested the muscles in his calves and thighs and up his spine, through his back. Then he bent down and offered a hand to Teyla, helped her to her feet. She was rubbing the back of her head; he wondered if she'd hit it.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Ow," said Teyla.
Before she could elaborate, Ronon came barreling into the room, John hot on his heels. "You guys okay?"
Teyla was still rubbing the base of her skull and wincing, but she didn't appear to be bleeding. He took up the gauntlet: "I believe so. Though we should probably consult Carson."
"What happened?" John was glancing around the room, which still looked empty and innocuous.
"There was a bright flash of light," Ronon said.
"Yes, we saw that." Teyla grimaced as she bent to pick up her equipment.
"Yeah...I think a visit to Carson might be a good idea." John went over to Teyla to help with her pack, and there was a brief, scuffling debate over whether or not his aid was actually required. Ronon raised an eyebrow at him, and Rodney shrugged.
He hefted his own pack, which strangely felt lighter than it had before. Odd, but if that was the only side effect to bright flashing lights and potential accidents with Ancient technology, well. He wasn't complaining.
And he didn't, not all the way back through the gate.
*
Teyla's head was killing her.
"Well, you'll be relieved to know that there doesn't appear to be any damage," Carson said.
"Are you sure?" Her head really hurt. "My head really hurts!" she insisted. Then a rather insidious burst of thought: maybe that was the brain cells being destroyed-maybe she was feeling them dying!
Carson frowned. "Well, I can give you some pain killers. But the scans don't show anything out of the ordinary, and Rodney doesn't appear to be experiencing the same symptoms."
Teyla gulped down the pills with the little plastic cup of water Carson handed her. Of course Rodney was just fine, bounding out of the infirmary the second Carson told him he was cleared (provided he took the rest of the day off and heavy activity was avoided-advice that would almost surely be ignored). She sighed. It really wasn't fair.
She slid off the examination table, waving a hand at Carson as he went through the whole speech about how she should of course come right back if the headaches continued, or other symptoms presented, or, you know, she passed out and died. Her jacket was draped over a chair and she slid it on, Atlantis' median temperature being just a bit too cold for bare arms.
Carson had instructed her, also, that she was to take the rest of the day off, but the last thing she wanted was to be stuck alone in her quiet quarters, where her pounding head would just seem worse in the silence. Besides, she was in a terrible mood. She might as well share it.
*
Rodney went back to his quarters and sat down on the bed. He took a deep breath-in through his nose, then a pause, then a slow release through his mouth. His legs curled under his body naturally and he breathed. He felt good. Calm. Centered.
He felt his mind and body and spirit relax, drifting off into a wide, open field...
When Ronon came by to ask him if he wanted to spar, he was ready.
*
Teyla walked into the lab, receiving a surprised look from Radek, a raised eyebrow from Bryce, and a glare from Simpson. The latter set down the star drive diagrams she was supposed to have finished going over hours ago. "What are you doing here?"
Teyla turned her head and pretended to check for a sign on the door. "Did I take a wrong turn?" she asked, amping up the mock-confusion-thank you, Sears Drama Festival. "No, wait-this is the lab I supervise. In fact, whadaya know-they all are!"
Simpson continued frowning for another few seconds before her expression melted into confusion. Teyla shook her head. Some people were just too slow to appreciate wit.
"We thought you were taking the rest of the day off," said Radek, somewhat more reasonably.
Teyla smiled. "Well, I realized I might as well catch the mistakes now, rather than let them build and build and build-"
She rolled her hands, illustrating an ever growing ball of idiot human error. Radek rolled his eyes in return, muttering at her. Turning toward the equations laid out on the white board, she grinned. Her headache had receded already. And sometimes, this job was just fun.
*
For some reason, Rodney felt an odd shiver of nervousness as he picked up his sticks, but they spun in his hands with the ease years of practice and undeniable natural skill had brought. Ronon grinned at him, toothily, but although he felt the same excitement and eagerness, he kept his own expression carefully schooled, only a hint of sly pleasure showing in the corners of his lips, in the heat in his eyes.
He felt incredible power, incredible control. His whole body was a tightly coiled spring.
They moved then: into a complicated dance, the beat coming from their bodies and the occasional crack! of wood on wood. Rodney felt it in his body, and in his blood, and in a humming roar at the back of his brain-the world's most incredible rush.
*
There was a moment-a single, sharp, brilliant moment-when everything she had been working on, had spent the last several hours struggling on, snapped perfectly into place. The synapses connected inside her incredible, glorious, unmatchable mind: and the world changed, the universe opened up...and shifted...and realigned...all without her having to lift a finger.
The look she exchanged with her coworkers was nothing like an arrogant smirk; it was a smile so wide it made her giddy.
*
When Ronon sat down for dinner, he grunted slightly when the spot on his ass where he had been smacked met the seat. Rodney hid his grin with a delicate bite of salad. John slid in across from them a few moments later, followed by Teyla, who was beaming at them all rather dreamily, her plate heaped high with food.
She sat down next to John, whose expression suddenly became rather fixed. "Is something wrong?" Rodney asked.
"I dunno." John looked around, his movements twitchy. "I've got a funny feeling."
Teyla blinked back to reality in time to say, "That's perfectly natural, Colonel. Perhaps Carson would be willing to lend you his extra copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves?"
"Only if you're done with it," John said, but he still looked distracted. Rodney gave him another inquiring look. John shrugged. "It's like...like I left the oven on or something."
"The oven," repeated Ronon.
"Like...like..." John was clearly struggling for words. "That's the best I can describe it." He was silent for a few seconds. "But I think we should go back to that planet."
"The evil strobe light planet?" Teyla frowned at her mashed potatoes for a moment, then resumed eating them. "I think this time you two," her fork swerved to indicate first John, then Ronon, "should have to endure the accompanying all-night-house-party-fueled-by-cheap-Danish-beer hangover headache."
Sometimes Rodney really had no idea what she was talking about.
"I'm going to go talk to Elizabeth." John slid out of his chair, half a sandwich in his hand and the other half held between his teeth,
There was a brief scuffle as both Teyla and Ronon tried to claim his abandoned Jell-O.
After dinner, Rodney took a long shower, somewhat guiltily enjoying the ready presence of so much hot water coursing over his pleasantly tired muscles. It was an indulgent, sensual experience, but one he allowed himself. When he was done and dry, he made some tea and went and had a pleasant chat with Elizabeth. She seemed distracted-frowning at first when he came into her office, his bare arms still slightly damp from the shower. But the tea calmed her, as did the welcome opportunity to spend a few minutes talking about her day with someone who wasn't in any way evaluating her. Rodney valued that, too. He went back to his quarters feeling sleepy and relaxed, ready-but not desperate-for rest.
He woke in the middle of the night, sweaty and panting. He felt like the scab had come off, and the wound reopened, his dark dreams bleeding into the comforting blanket of peace he tried to wrap around himself throughout the day, irrevocably staining it. He could still hear the shouts, smell the tents and-please, no-the trapped people burning. And yet he knew, he knew-those were the lucky ones. He saw a face, a man's kind, lined face-and then he saw it disappear in a flash far brighter and more deadly than that brief burst on the planet the day before. His father. He tried not to think, tried not to remember, that there were worse ones: dreams where he not only relived the moment of his father being taken from him, but imagined that it was he, Rodney himself, waiting with teeth bared and palm extended on the other side.
He shivered, though he normally found Atlantis unusually warm, and tried to force his mind and body to remember the calmness of those wide, open spaces while his spirit sobbed and raged in turn.
*
Teyla stayed late in the labs, mulling over some curious data sent down from Hermiod on the Daedalus. By the time she realized what time it was, and that she had a briefing early the next morning, she was too exhausted than to do much more than stagger back to her room and collapse.
She slept peacefully...for about three hours.
Then Campbell was radioing and speaking in a tone of not-quite-panic about some strange alert that the Ancient system had registered but that their equipment couldn't make sense of, and Teyla was actually feeling somewhat glad that she'd slept in her clothes, because that was one less thing to worry about as she staggered out the door, her eyes bleary and her hair standing up every-which-way, like she'd made the mistake of letting Jeannie "experiment" with it again.
The problem turned out to have to do with an inordinate number of people having used the toilets by the west pier. Apparently those were special toilets, and Atlantis was picky about them.
Teyla really hated the world.
The sun was shining merrily through the Ancient stained glass by the time this fascinating puzzle was resolved. Teyla mainlined about twelve cups of coffee, splashed some water on her face, and reported to the briefing room.
Ronon came in, yawning and stretching like a big, content cat. "Nice night?"
Unfortunately, looks could not, in fact, kill.
*
Elizabeth had already heard John's reasons for wanting to return to M7X-948 the night before, but she had him reiterate them briefly now, which he did: calm, concise, dark-eyed.
"'I have a bad feeling about this'?" Teyla said, when he was done. "Your reasoning-and please note how generous I am being by calling it that-is 'I have a bad feeling about this'?"
John folded his arms. "That's what Han Solo said. And then bang: tractor beam, Death Star."
Teyla's eyes narrowed. "So, wait, I'm sorry: You're saying if we don't go back to Planet Migraine, we're going to get captured by Darth Vader?" She looked at Elizabeth imploringly.
Privately, Rodney trusted John's instincts and agreed that the odd incident on M7X-948 was worth further investigation; he also understood that Star Wars was an important philosophical work among the Colonel's people. He still thought Teyla might be right that it didn't quite apply under these circumstances, however.
He started to say so, but before he could, Teyla snapped, "Excuse me? Still talking," and continued arguing that a boring, funny-smelling planet with no good trade opportunities and no interesting tech besides a nasty, headache-causing flash bulb was certainly not worth their valuable time and effort. Rodney took a deep breath-in through his nose, out through his mouth-and decided to let her fight this particular battle on her own.
In the end, it was decided that they would go back to M7X-948-but with the added back-up of Major Lorne's team. Elizabeth tried to console Teyla by suggesting that she herself wouldn't have to go back into the "Chamber of Headaches," but as Teyla pointed out, "Who else is going to figure out why the stupid thing is causing a disturbance in the Force?"
Rodney empathized. He knew from experience that if you were brought up following a certain set of religious beliefs, it could be hard to fully let them go.
*
Teyla was not happy to be back here. Her headache started up again almost as soon as they were through the gate, and since Sheppard insisted on following his stupid "park the jumper some distance away from your actual goal" protocol, she had to aggravate it by taking a hike through the hot sun. Her skull throbbed-a horrible, itchy ache, like someone was psychically squeezing her cerebral cortex, preventing her from thinking. Maybe, she thought, almost hopefully-maybe she was having a hypoglycemic reaction? She'd barely had breakfast, after all. She opened one of her vest pockets and wolfed down a powerbar, then more slowly unwrapped another. She began to feel a bit better.
"Whoa, there, Doctor Emmagan!"
She glanced up. Cadman-goddammit-had drawn up beside her. "You might want to slow down there," the lieutenant said, smirking, "if you're gonna keep your girlish figure."
Teyla felt herself flush. "And maybe if you ate more you'd actually have enough energy make it to your brain," she snapped, barely aware of whether the words even made sense. She felt something-a teasing tension at the base of her spine-a bizarre conviction that if she wanted to, she could pummel Cadman's stupid blonde face into the ground. The powerbar wrapper crumpled in her hand and-
"Excuse me, I am sorry to interrupt." Rodney glided in between them, a blankly serene smile on his face. "My apologies, Lieutenant, but I need Doctor Emmagan's advice about...about some energy readings."
"No problem." Cadman smiled at him, then threw Teyla a wink before falling back beside Sergeant Shelmerdine.
"Energy readings?" Teyla questioned, preparing to be indignant about...being rescued from Cadman? How insulting. But Rodney just frowned, glancing briefly at the handheld sensor she had withdrawn (just to make sure). For a second, it almost looked like he wanted to wrestle it out of her hands.
Then his expression was back to being imperturbable again. "These headaches," he said, "are they a dull sort of ache at the back of your skull?"
Teyla huffed. "More like a horrific stabbing pain," she said, then paused. "Wait. You too?"
"It was mild at first," he said. "I did not want-"
Teyla had already made up her mind. "That's it, we're going back. Sheppard!"
But Sheppard had already entered the abandoned building.
*
Rodney was, once again, surprised: as much as she complained and rambled on and on about their impending doom when it was merely hypothetical, when one of her teammates was in trouble, Teyla acted. When she saw that John had already gone inside the building that Rodney was beginning to suspect was as potentially dangerous as she had claimed, Teyla didn't hesitate. Well, not for any longer than it took to say, "Crap," anyway. Then she charged off toward the entrance, and Rodney followed, leaving Cadman and Shelmerdine exchanging puzzled looks in their wake.
John was standing just inside the entrance, chewing on the inside of his lip. "Huh," he said.
Teyla pulled up beside him. "Sheppard-" she started, then likewise fell into a contemplative slouch. "Oh. It's not so bad in here."
Ronon came back from having circumnavigated the room. "Don't feel like the oven's on anymore?"
John scratched his head. "No, apparently, I'm a fucking squirrel." He smiled sheepishly. "Pardon my French."
Rodney had no idea what he was talking about, but at least his headache was already fading, receding with every careful breath.
"Something's still going on, though," Teyla said, unstrapping her computer. Rodney once again felt a strange desire to take it from her, to check what she was doing himself. Another pair of deep breaths pushed the feeling away. "I have a-"
"-A feeling?" said John, wryly.
"Yes," said Teyla, with a dignified tilt of her chin. Rodney would never tell anyone that he'd come to find it rather endearing.
"I'm going to go see what Lorne's up to." John nodded and headed toward the door.
"Wait," said Teyla. She had gotten down on her knees and was trying to pry up a large section of metal flooring. "I need someone to-"
"I'm going with Sheppard," announced Ronon, and slipped out as well.
"Well, it looks like you drew the short straw," Teyla told him, breathing heavily. She had the flooring up and was straining to hold it in place while simultaneously trying to get a look at what was underneath.
Rodney came over and relieved her of it. He had to work hard at restraining a smile at the sight of her immediately worming her way under it, intent on her goal, oblivious to the fact that she was thrusting her ass into the air, two inches away from his nose.
His thoughts abruptly turned, and Rodney took a deep breath-in through his nose; out through his mouth.
"Huh," Teyla said, squirming some more. "This looks sort of familiar." Her ass wiggled again as she attached a wire to some sort of crystal- Rodney likewise felt a moment's shock of recognition. His grip on the piece of flooring slipped.
"Hey, watch it!" Teyla snapped. She ducked back out, her hair falling loose and messy over slightly smudged cheeks. "Okay-now that you won't risk decapitating me-you can set it down."
He did. There was enough space for the wires she had inserted to slide through, and she fed them into her computer. She typed quickly; he glanced over her shoulder and the commands she entered didn't make sense to him. For some reason, this bothered him-so he settled back on the older, more familiar bother of the scent of her sweat: the honest, clean kind, that reminded him of being alive.
Teyla seemed, mercifully, oblivious to that, too; she said, "Hm," and entered two more emphatic strokes. Another piece of flooring, one several paces away from them and against the wall, hissed; a moment later, there was an identical, echoing answer on the other side of the room. They both looked up: hand and foot holds had appeared both places, two of each at each end of the room. "I knew it," Teyla said.
Rodney suspected that actually, she was just as confused as he was.
She got to her feet, heavy in thick-soled boots. She hesitated for a moment in front of the depressions in the wall and floor, obviously calculating the odds of whether they would snag her and kill her in some horrible way. Rodney had heard her expound for hours about the risks inherent in a fifteen minute walk on a partly-cloudy day, but when it came to potential discoveries, he knew that she wouldn't be able to keep her curiosity in check. "Teyla-" he started, but it was too late. Already she'd slid her hands and feet into position, and pressed.
Nothing happened. He heard them both release a breath. A strange feeling of-what was the phrase? Déjà vu?-swept over him. That moment of relief-it wasn't the first time-
"Hmm," Teyla said again. Then she snapped her fingers. "Rodney, why don't you go stand on the other side. It probably needs two people to..."
It wasn't that she had stopped talking. But the words slipped from his brain like wet paint sliding down a wall. His awareness of the room faded out and Rodney's head felt suddenly full to bursting with-oh!-so many voices, and a roaring buzz, coming closer and closer, swarming down-
"Wraith!" he gasped. "The Wraith-"
Dimly, he was aware of his whole body throbbing with adrenaline, and of Teyla's eyes going wide.
*
She had the sense to radio Sheppard before scooping her supplies into her bag. Rodney was grabbing her arm and a couple pieces of equipment scattered. She left them and they raced out the door. Outside it was eerily silent. Teyla followed Major Lorne when he gestured for them to move toward the trees, but though she was straining her ears, she couldn't yet hear anything.
Beside her, Rodney looked like he had rockets going off in his head.
"The gate-" he said, and then Lorne said, "Shit" as suddenly there was the horrible shriek of darts above them. "Fall back!" Lorne said, and Teyla never understood what he meant by that-fall back to where; the Wraith had come through the gate, so where else was there to run? And oh God, where were the others? Where were Sheppard and Ronon?
She was virtually useless in situations like these and she-ever sharp-tongued and articulate-hated it more than she could possibly put into words.
"Head for the jumper," Lorne commanded, pushing her forward with a hand on her back. "Rodney-stay with her."
Rodney had his P-90 out already-Teyla was still fumbling with hers-and he had an expression of cold, thin-mouthed determination on his face that made him look actually alien. Normally-and despite the fact that Teyla would never admit thinking such a thing about another person's company-she found the Athosian's presence oddly calming; stepping into his arms, she imagined (which she didn't) would be like stepping into a cool, quiescent lake. Now, though-well. She was just glad he was on her side.
They ran, keeping low to the ground, Teyla at one point starting and accidentally removing the threat of some undoubtedly vicious bushes.
They reached the approximate location of the jumper and, once Rodney had assured himself that there were no Wraith immediately present, Teyla produced the secondary remote. They didn't even wait for the cloak to finish wavering before they made a break for it, and Teyla had only one foot on the entrance ramp when she flicked the switch to hide them again. She breathed a long sigh of relief and tried to concentrate on what to do next.
"Should we wait here or should I try to fly to pick them up? I could fly and pick them up, but what if while we're looking they come here and we're gone and they're exposed?" She moved into the cockpit and glanced anxiously out the window, hoping that she'd see Sheppard and Ronon and the rest running toward them, removing the necessity of a "tactical" decision on her part.
"You could try your radio," Rodney suggested gently.
Teyla felt like a dumbass. There weren't words to describe how much she hated that, either.
Rodney had already followed his own suggestion and was receiving barking orders from Sheppard to "Just! Wait! There!" Teyla felt the throb of her heart and tried to reassure herself that they were all fine, and that she wasn't having a stroke. She glanced out the window again. On the far side of the jumper from where they had come, almost obscured by a strategic boulder, she could just make out the gate. It was no longer initiated-a surprising, and immediately suspicious, piece of good fortune. There was a pair of Wraith standing guard-one skull-faced drone, and one of the more style-conscious, leather jacket and tattoos type. The latter was running its hands up one Ancient curve, then kneeling down and-
"Oh, no."
Rodney turned to face her.
"No, no, no."
"What?"
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "We have to go," she said.
Rodney stared at her.
"Come on! Now!" she demanded. "You're going to have to give me cover fire-oh God, I can't believe this!"
He wasn't moving. "Colonel Sheppard said to say here. We're not leaving him and the others."
ARGH. She wasn't sure what hurt more-having to explain everything in excruciating detail, or the idea-even the very idea-that he would honestly think that of her. That she was that much of a coward.
"Look! Look out there!" she said, waving her arms wildly. "Do you see that? That is a Wraith and it's got its hand halfway up inside the stargate! You know, that thing we use to get home? And somehow, call me crazy, I don't think it's trying to help us improve power efficiency!"
"We have to stop him." The Resolve Face was back. Wonderful.
"Yes, yes, and I'm probably going to have to fix whatever damage he's done-oh God."
They slipped outside. "Leave the remote," Rodney whispered, and Teyla hid it quickly at the base of a tree.
She could do this. She could. She gripped her P-90 tightly and kept close to Rodney's side. They were going to sneak around the boulder and then on Rodney's signal she was just going to aim at the nearest Wraith and fire at the thing until the message finally got through its thick skull that it was dead and it went down.
They could do this. She was too brilliant to die.
They were rounding the boulder when suddenly Rodney went still. His head snapped up. Then before Teyla even really registered what was happening, he was firing at a third Wraith dropping down from above them, from-over? on top of?-the rock, and even when it kept coming and reached for his chest he kept firing until it fell.
There was, Teyla knew, still the possibility that it was alive. Rodney stepped forward and positioned his foot, then calmly broke its neck.
Teyla was still processing this when, "Duck," he said, and she dove down as another Wraith came up behind her and Rodney's P-90 responded with more fire. A stunner blast hit the rock and Teyla's grip on the trigger slipped as she dropped just below it. She didn't understand: how could she be this clumsy when for everyone else-Sheppard, Ronon, Rodney-it seemed to come so easily? She pulled herself to her knees at Rodney's side, aware-oh, all too aware-that there was still a third Wraith and that-
Jesus. As if on cue, it loomed up out of nowhere, rising like Nosferatu at Rodney's back. Teyla squeezed the trigger and started unloading her P-90 into it, and though she succeeded in drawing it away from him, it reacted to the bullets the way she might have to a handful of rice-brushing the grains away; annoyed, maybe, that they had gotten in her hair. Then it reached out with one hand and wrested the still-firing gun from her grasp.
When they were that resilient, it meant they were old. That they had fed recently.
It hurled her back against the rock. Her head thunked-bye bye, precious brain cells-but she shook it off and grappled for her Beretta. She managed three-no, four-shots into its abdomen before its hand closed around her throat.
Oh, God-she was going to die. She remembered Gall's wrinkled face and bloodied chest, how his hand had shook when she pressed the gun into it. Her fault. But he at least had had some illusion of choice in his last moments, while now, she-possessed of the most brilliant mind in two galaxies-was completely helpless. Brilliance didn't matter now. Death took it all away. Who she was, what she had done, what she could still do-so many good things-
She saw the tree branch coming a second before it connected, and though terror still held her, she actually smiled as the Wraith pulled its hand back to strike.
It toppled back onto the ground instead, and before it could bounce back up, Teyla stumbled forward, clutching her side, and emptied the clip into its skull.
"Took you long enough," she said.
"Right," said Rodney. He dropped the branch by the Wraith's corpse and followed her to the gate.
She knelt, examining the panel the Wraith had removed and immediately identifying the damage she needed to undo. She was disturbed by the fact that the Wraith had suddenly resorted to sabotage, but she couldn't worry about the implications now. She could still hear sporadic gunfire from the direction they had come-where the rest of her team and Major Lorne's still were-and her own close call had left her heart doing some sort of percussion finale in her chest. Rodney's presence beside her was immensely reassuring-just him standing there, one hand on his gun and the other pressed gently to her shoulder.
Without thinking, she lifted a hand and curled her fingers through his, squeezing.
It took her a second to realize what she had done. She tried to pull back, but his thumb stroking across her knuckles paused her. Their eyes met: his a deep, quiet blue in his solemn face. She felt his fingers' squeeze not on her hand but inside, terrifying and tender and joyous, and she opened her mouth-opened her mouth most likely to spoil it all-to tell him-
An explosion rocked them both, orange flame bursting on the horizon. Before Teyla could fully rise an answering flame bloomed and burned inside her skull. Rodney stumbled, but this time neither of them fell, because they were there to hold each other up.
It washed over them like a shockwave, and then dispersed, leaving not even a ripple in the air.
Teyla looked over at Rodney and Rodney looked over at her. His eyes were huge, his mouth open in dumb shock, and Teyla would not have been surprised if her expression were much the same. Her left hand was still tangled among the inner workings of the gate, and she let it drop out, guiltily. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but something-and in spite of everything that had just occurred, Teyla couldn't think what-made him change his mind. They switched places, wordlessly.
Rodney was just closing the panel on the gate when their teammates came charging toward them, Lorne and his people following. "I thought I told you to wait in the-whoa," said John, skidding to a halt and looking back and forth between them several times.
"There was an explosion," said Teyla, well aware that this didn't answer his question-any of them.
"We lured them into the outpost. Then we blew it up." Ronon's brow was deeply furrowed, and Teyla resigned herself to the fact that she'd be receiving similar stares-or worse ones-for several days to come.
"A perfectly rigged explosion if I do say so myself," said Cadman, glancing past them as if she could somehow see the cloaked jumper if she just stared hard enough. A second later, she did an impressive double-take. "Wait a minute. You're Rodney and you're Teyla-I mean, not that you weren't previously- But you're-"
"Yes, yes," said Rodney quickly, and Teyla felt an odd twinge at the impatient patter of his voice. "I am she as she is me and someone-Ronon, probably-is the Walrus; let's discuss this later when we're not still facing imminent death, hmm?"
As she ran back to the jumper, Teyla was aware that though she'd never heard it before, she knew that song; it was by a band called The Beatles, and the day John Lennon died, Rodney's mother had sobbed as she'd served them dinner; wrenching sobs from a woman who hadn't ever shed a tear for her son's scrapes and bruises and far more serious brushes with death; and eventually, Rodney's father had leaned across the table and slapped her.
Rodney hadn't thought seriously about that night in twenty years. But Teyla remembered.
She took a deep breath as the jumper lifted off. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. She was calm. Centered.
Alive.
*
Rodney, in the jumper, was uncharacteristically quiet. He could feel everyone else-everyone else save Teyla-staring at him, but he didn't say anything, didn't turn around and snap. He dialed Atlantis, entered his IDC, and watched the wormhole whoosh and ripple before him.
It was both reassuring and a little terrifying to remember again exactly how it worked.
Sheppard piloted them into the gateroom, where Elizabeth, standing on her balcony (and how she worried when they were gone, pacing the upper levels like a widow's walk; he could remember her telling him, though it hadn't been him) issued her relieved greeting. Then up, into the jumper bay.
Sheppard was setting her down when Rodney suddenly started to laugh, uncontrollably. "You okay, buddy?" Sheppard asked, but Rodney shook him off. His eyes were tearing up. Through them, he could barely see Ronon looking at him quizzically. It only made him laugh harder.
"What?" said Lorne. "What is it?"
Rodney nearly choked on another burst of hysterical giggles. Grinning hugely, he pointed at a suddenly surprised Satedan. The memory would be awesome forever, he thought, and snorted.
"I beat up Ronon," he gasped out, and collapsed into laughter again.
*
Elizabeth met them at the door to the conference room, the look of concern on her face only intensifying when John announced casually, "Ran into some Wraith." Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond to that, but before she could, her eyes fell on Teyla. And then moved to Rodney. Then moved back to Teyla.
"Explain," she said.
Rodney had a theory. Teyla, as it happened, had the same theory-which wasn't, she thought, the result of the little bit of...sharing they had just done, but rather the simple result of having seen the same set of things and drawn the reasonable conclusion. "I don't know if the Ancients used it for diplomatic negotiations or for couples counseling, but as always they seem to have taken what we consider to be simple adages a little too far. I would have been able to find out more-" And Teyla shivered again as she remembered that that's what she had been doing-her hands, moving capably over the Ancient equipment- "But then Cadman went and blew it up."
He glared at her. Cadman rolled her eyes. "It was kind of full of Wraith at the time," she said.
Bitch, thought Teyla, and immediately felt ashamed.
Elizabeth was still looking back and forth between Teyla and Rodney like she thought they might at any second merge together, or activate their wonder twin powers. (And oh! This amount of "pop culture" knowledge was truly appalling. She didn't understand how Rodney could be so protective of his brain, and yet allow all this useless garbage to be swimming around in there all the time.) "Well," Elizabeth said, with somewhat forced brightness. "At least you may have learned something?"
Rodney appeared to think for a second. Then, "I beat up Ronon," he pointed out.
The meeting essentially over, Teyla eased her way out.
She was almost at the transporter when Cadman caught up to her. "Hey," she said.
Teyla turned a diplomatic smile on her. She hadn't had a great deal of interaction with Cadman in the past; she knew Cadman was good at her work, that she had dated Carson for a while, and that she and Rodney didn't get along. None of these things (besides, briefly, the second) had sparked any particular interest on Teyla's part.
No animosity, either, and so Teyla was slightly surprised to find that the smile, when she slipped it on, was so brittle. "Yes?" she said. She realized vaguely that she should probably check in with Carson, and wondered if Cadman had been sent to remind her.
Instead Cadman surprised her by donning a somewhat rueful look. "I just wanted to say I was sorry," and in a flash, Teyla remembered Cadman's smirking, insidious little insults earlier that day. Teyla knew it hadn't really been her, Teyla, who Cadman was poking fun at, but at the time it had certainly felt like it, and Teyla understood now why her hackles had risen at the lieutenant's approach.
She was all ready to say, "Apology accepted," though unexpectedly it still bothered her-because it was only due to the fact that the insults had hit the wrong target that they were being retracted? Because she had never felt insecure about her body before, and hadn't liked it one bit? But then Cadman's face broke out into a sly grin. "Believe me I sympathize," she said. "Having also had a fun vacation inside McKay's head, I know it is not pretty. Hey," she gave Teyla's shoulder a friendly nudge, "maybe we can start a support group?"
For a moment Teyla was too stunned to speak. She felt irrationally angry, and she couldn't-she wouldn't allow that in herself, those kinds of fury-fueled lashings-out. Cadman didn't mean it. Or rather, she meant it, but not as any sort of insult to Teyla. Ironically, she was even trying to be friendly.
With effort, Teyla unclenched her fists and schooled her expression.
"Thank you for the sympathy," she said. "I think a little empathy might actually serve you better."
Teyla got into the transporter, her gaze level and fixed straight ahead.
*
Once again, Rodney had the rest of the day off, and this time he actually tried to take it. He had a backlog of scientific journals he wanted to read and laugh at, and he settled himself on his bed with them fanned out prettily in front of them.
He was less than two pages into the first when he began to feel restless.
It was just-just-the memory, the feeling of so much physical control, so much physical power-! No wonder people got all excited about their exercise regimes. He'd never understood it, because it had never worked that way for him; instead it was all pain, no gain. But God, the rush! He played over in his head his fight with Ronon. (That had been him! (Kind of.) Kicking Ronon's ass! (Totally.)) And even under much more intense, frightening circumstances, taking on the Wraith. It had still been scary-especially since he'd been very, very aware that he had Teyla to protect-but even through the fear, and maybe because of it, he'd been so focused, so in control. It was the exact opposite of how he felt when faced with physical danger; usually, a big, scary monster in his face was the one thing liable to make him feel like his brilliant mind was dribbling out his ears. But back on that planet, he'd known just what to do. He'd stepped into a high-pressure situation and...thrived.
Being jealous of yourself-from-another-universe was bad enough; it would be really lame if he were now jealous of his Ancient-technology-engineered fused-with-Teyla self.
And he wasn't. Not really. Because in truth it was a relief to have his own precious brain back and functioning in his own precious skull. Being all calm and dignified all the time was actually kind of creepy and weird. And, much to his surprise, it took a lot more effort than he'd assumed.
He remembered Teyla's nightmares and frowned. Everyone had nightmares, he reminded himself. If you were lucky enough to get more than three hours' sleep a night, you could deal with a few pesky little bad dreams. They were nothing to lose sleep over (ha ha).
He picked up his journal again and tried to remember what he'd been reading. Something hilariously wrong, he was sure-
It was wrong. It was so damn wrong, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Teyla-as-him. Yelling at everyone and not letting anyone else talk-and yeah, it was obnoxious, but he already knew he was obnoxious; it was one of the immutable laws of the universe-Newton could have written about it. But Teyla-possibly because on some level she was still Teyla and not really him-had made all of his typical, loudmouthed behavior seem almost inspiring. He remembered her quick, clever hands molding the Ancient equipment to her will... Maybe he could give her some basic engineering lessons? Because that had been hot.
Er. It was probably bad that he found that hot, right? Kind of masturbatory. Was it his fault that he was turned on by competence?
Of course, Teyla was pretty damn competent all on her own. He knew it first hand, now. (One Wraith. Two Wraith. Three.) And she was patient-like, obscenely patient with her obnoxious teammates (present company-okay, included) and pretty much everyone else. And she was kind, and supportive, and okay, Rodney could recognize that those were valuable qualities. You know, in other people. He was just weirded out because for a couple of days, that other person had been him.
It wouldn't be too hard to shake off. He'd been able to brush off whatever clung from Cadman's personality like a few annoying burrs. His time-as Teyla, with Teyla-had been much less traumatizing, and thus would surely be far easier to forget.
Just...he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.
He stared at the journal he was holding and saw instead Teyla's slim, capable fingers, closing around the hand he had placed protectively on her shoulder. He remembered how she had looked at him-like he was amazing. But...but that had been her, hadn't it-she was the amazing one. Teyla was.
Yeah, way to go, stupid Ancient device. Like he hadn't known that already.
He pushed the journals off his bed and crawling under the covers, hoped he wouldn't dream again about Teyla's loved ones dying, or about all the ways she'd probably been unsurprised and disappointed by him.
*
"So," said John, the next morning at breakfast, "that was weird."
None of them had to ask which particular that he was referring to. It would be the current weird thing, until it became the previous weird thing. Eventually, it would become, "Hey, remember a few months ago? That weird thing? No, the other one. Yeah. That was all pretty weird."
Spending so much time-in? with?-Rodney's head had done strange things to her mental vocabulary.
It also seemed to have dampened her enjoyment of orange juice. That was unfortunate. She'd liked orange juice. It was much better than the stuff the people from Earth pretended were eggs.
Ronon kicked Rodney under the table; Teyla could feel the vibration as his leg moved. "Hey, McKay. Want a rematch?"
"I think I'd prefer to rest on my laurels." Rodney sounded distracted. Teyla wondered if he'd gotten any sleep last night, or if he'd been woken again and kept awake until dawn. She remembered how his (her) shoulders had ached after a long night hunched in front of the computer, and she wanted to reach across the table and rub the knots out of his back, remind him that for the nine times it was stupid, annoying, or life-threatening (and sometimes, all three), there would be that one time, the time that would make it all worth it. That glorious, almost orgasmic rush of discovery...she wanted to tell him that for her, at least, the strangeness and the confusion and the uncomfortable feeling of confidences unwillingly shared-it was all worth it. To experience that just once had made it all worth it, because it helped her to know him better: her teammate, her friend. She wanted to tell him that.
She wanted-
Oh. Oh.
She flushed. She'd have to think about this more later, when Ronon wasn't making moves on her bacon.
*
Rodney knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help himself. So he let his body be drawn-inexorably, foot over foot-down to the gym. He really had other things he ought to be doing.
It was late, so the training room was mercifully empty. Rodney took off his jacket and draped it over the creepy Mr. Torso thing. He shivered. Even that was strange-Teyla was always a little too warm. Maybe he could adjust the environmental controls for her? Make the city more comfortable. Then he shook his head-no, that was stupid: then he'd be cold all the time. And possibly Teyla'd stop wearing so many skimpy tops.
Idly-or so he firmly told himself-he picked up one of the training sticks. These were not Teyla's; she had her own, personal ones which she had carved herself-kind of like a Jedi Knight cutting the crystal for his own lightsaber, and oh man, he really needed to have a word with Teyla about Star Wars one of these days...
(In his mind's eye he could see the stick twirling in his hand, see and feel it moving easily between his fingers, feel the easy bend and give of the wood against his palm...)
He tried one turn and it dropped almost immediately, the stick skittering across the floor like it was ashamed.
Rodney stared at it. See? He'd known this was stupid.
"Would you like a lesson?"
He made some dumb, surprised noise but managed to bite most of it back. By the time he turned around, he'd made sure that his expression showed only annoyance. "No," he said, "I just...saw a strange power spike down here and thought I'd come investigate." He retrieved his jacket. "Go ahead, it's all yours."
"Rodney."
She had a commanding voice, Teyla-the-leader-of-her-people. He turned. She was standing there with her arms loose and her shoulders relaxed, a patient, serene expression on her face. He knew now some of what she was hiding, but it only made him admire her more.
His head dropped. He could see her-every time he blinked, or came at her from an angle-that other her, smart and prickly and vulnerable. That last quality, vulnerability, was not one he admired in himself, but for her to wear it had made things so much easier. He'd liked it, he realized-the idea that he could protect her. That was a relationship between a man and a woman that he could understand, could admire and appreciate, even if he, as himself, could never truly participate.
"I'm sorry." It was either apologize or start calling her a dumb brunette. He really didn't want to go through that again.
"Rodney," she said, reaching up to touch his arm, "you have nothing to apologize for."
He managed an almost-smile, a wry, rueful upturn of the left side of his mouth. "You've been in my head, you know that's not true." Oh God-the Noodle Incident. She probably knew about the Noodle Incident. Now every time she looked at him, she'd be thinking about that. Great.
Yet her eyes were still searching his face, her hand still roving. She touched the backs of her fingers to his temple, and he nearly shook with the effort of not moving.
"Perhaps I was wrong," she said. "You may in fact owe me an apology." She had captured his gaze and he felt pinned, as surely as the Wraith had pinned her to the rock. The one time he'd actually been able to save her.
"You have been inside my head as well, and yet you still hold me too much in awe."
"I-"
"I am as human as you, Rodney." She was whispering, an intense, heady rasp. "I get scared and I get lonely and I-"
In that moment he felt possessed, like someone far braver and bolder had borrowed his body. That calm, controlled him-that was the her in him-that was the two of them together: it reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, and hers on his shoulder, guiding him. He let his eyes flutter closed and then it happened: their lips fit together like two errant puzzle pieces dismissed as a match because one showed sky and the other water-so different, even when they reflected each other, even when they were both blue.
"Oh man," Rodney said a while later. "Ronon's totally gonna demand that rematch now. He's going to kill me!"
Teyla smiled to herself in the peaceful, quiet dark. "He'll have to get through me first," she promised.
NOTES:
1. Miscellaneous jokes and references owe credit to Joss Whedon, Eddie Izzard, and Bill Watterson. And of course, that famed religious leader, George Lucas.
2. If someone draws Rodney in Athosian garb and Teyla in a lab coat with messy scientist hair (and possibly glasses?) I will DIE OF HAPPINESS. Just sayin'. ;-)
Title: Walk a Klick
Pairing: Rodney/Teyla
Rating: PG
Length: ~8,000 words
Summary: Teyla's head was killing her.
A/N: Written for steammmpunk's sticksandsnark prompt of "Canon role switching, AU, culture clash." wychwood and siriaeve deserve lots of credit for the last-minute beta and reassurance. Thank you for laughing at my jokes and questioning my bizarre punctuation!
Walk a Klick
If he was unconscious, it was for only an instant. He remembered everything except actually hitting the floor. There was the flash and then-blinking, lying on his back; and Teyla next to him, groaning softly.
He got to his feet. He felt...okay, actually. Good. He flexed his shoulders, tested the muscles in his calves and thighs and up his spine, through his back. Then he bent down and offered a hand to Teyla, helped her to her feet. She was rubbing the back of her head; he wondered if she'd hit it.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
"Ow," said Teyla.
Before she could elaborate, Ronon came barreling into the room, John hot on his heels. "You guys okay?"
Teyla was still rubbing the base of her skull and wincing, but she didn't appear to be bleeding. He took up the gauntlet: "I believe so. Though we should probably consult Carson."
"What happened?" John was glancing around the room, which still looked empty and innocuous.
"There was a bright flash of light," Ronon said.
"Yes, we saw that." Teyla grimaced as she bent to pick up her equipment.
"Yeah...I think a visit to Carson might be a good idea." John went over to Teyla to help with her pack, and there was a brief, scuffling debate over whether or not his aid was actually required. Ronon raised an eyebrow at him, and Rodney shrugged.
He hefted his own pack, which strangely felt lighter than it had before. Odd, but if that was the only side effect to bright flashing lights and potential accidents with Ancient technology, well. He wasn't complaining.
And he didn't, not all the way back through the gate.
*
Teyla's head was killing her.
"Well, you'll be relieved to know that there doesn't appear to be any damage," Carson said.
"Are you sure?" Her head really hurt. "My head really hurts!" she insisted. Then a rather insidious burst of thought: maybe that was the brain cells being destroyed-maybe she was feeling them dying!
Carson frowned. "Well, I can give you some pain killers. But the scans don't show anything out of the ordinary, and Rodney doesn't appear to be experiencing the same symptoms."
Teyla gulped down the pills with the little plastic cup of water Carson handed her. Of course Rodney was just fine, bounding out of the infirmary the second Carson told him he was cleared (provided he took the rest of the day off and heavy activity was avoided-advice that would almost surely be ignored). She sighed. It really wasn't fair.
She slid off the examination table, waving a hand at Carson as he went through the whole speech about how she should of course come right back if the headaches continued, or other symptoms presented, or, you know, she passed out and died. Her jacket was draped over a chair and she slid it on, Atlantis' median temperature being just a bit too cold for bare arms.
Carson had instructed her, also, that she was to take the rest of the day off, but the last thing she wanted was to be stuck alone in her quiet quarters, where her pounding head would just seem worse in the silence. Besides, she was in a terrible mood. She might as well share it.
*
Rodney went back to his quarters and sat down on the bed. He took a deep breath-in through his nose, then a pause, then a slow release through his mouth. His legs curled under his body naturally and he breathed. He felt good. Calm. Centered.
He felt his mind and body and spirit relax, drifting off into a wide, open field...
When Ronon came by to ask him if he wanted to spar, he was ready.
*
Teyla walked into the lab, receiving a surprised look from Radek, a raised eyebrow from Bryce, and a glare from Simpson. The latter set down the star drive diagrams she was supposed to have finished going over hours ago. "What are you doing here?"
Teyla turned her head and pretended to check for a sign on the door. "Did I take a wrong turn?" she asked, amping up the mock-confusion-thank you, Sears Drama Festival. "No, wait-this is the lab I supervise. In fact, whadaya know-they all are!"
Simpson continued frowning for another few seconds before her expression melted into confusion. Teyla shook her head. Some people were just too slow to appreciate wit.
"We thought you were taking the rest of the day off," said Radek, somewhat more reasonably.
Teyla smiled. "Well, I realized I might as well catch the mistakes now, rather than let them build and build and build-"
She rolled her hands, illustrating an ever growing ball of idiot human error. Radek rolled his eyes in return, muttering at her. Turning toward the equations laid out on the white board, she grinned. Her headache had receded already. And sometimes, this job was just fun.
*
For some reason, Rodney felt an odd shiver of nervousness as he picked up his sticks, but they spun in his hands with the ease years of practice and undeniable natural skill had brought. Ronon grinned at him, toothily, but although he felt the same excitement and eagerness, he kept his own expression carefully schooled, only a hint of sly pleasure showing in the corners of his lips, in the heat in his eyes.
He felt incredible power, incredible control. His whole body was a tightly coiled spring.
They moved then: into a complicated dance, the beat coming from their bodies and the occasional crack! of wood on wood. Rodney felt it in his body, and in his blood, and in a humming roar at the back of his brain-the world's most incredible rush.
*
There was a moment-a single, sharp, brilliant moment-when everything she had been working on, had spent the last several hours struggling on, snapped perfectly into place. The synapses connected inside her incredible, glorious, unmatchable mind: and the world changed, the universe opened up...and shifted...and realigned...all without her having to lift a finger.
The look she exchanged with her coworkers was nothing like an arrogant smirk; it was a smile so wide it made her giddy.
*
When Ronon sat down for dinner, he grunted slightly when the spot on his ass where he had been smacked met the seat. Rodney hid his grin with a delicate bite of salad. John slid in across from them a few moments later, followed by Teyla, who was beaming at them all rather dreamily, her plate heaped high with food.
She sat down next to John, whose expression suddenly became rather fixed. "Is something wrong?" Rodney asked.
"I dunno." John looked around, his movements twitchy. "I've got a funny feeling."
Teyla blinked back to reality in time to say, "That's perfectly natural, Colonel. Perhaps Carson would be willing to lend you his extra copy of Our Bodies, Ourselves?"
"Only if you're done with it," John said, but he still looked distracted. Rodney gave him another inquiring look. John shrugged. "It's like...like I left the oven on or something."
"The oven," repeated Ronon.
"Like...like..." John was clearly struggling for words. "That's the best I can describe it." He was silent for a few seconds. "But I think we should go back to that planet."
"The evil strobe light planet?" Teyla frowned at her mashed potatoes for a moment, then resumed eating them. "I think this time you two," her fork swerved to indicate first John, then Ronon, "should have to endure the accompanying all-night-house-party-fueled-by-cheap-Danish-beer hangover headache."
Sometimes Rodney really had no idea what she was talking about.
"I'm going to go talk to Elizabeth." John slid out of his chair, half a sandwich in his hand and the other half held between his teeth,
There was a brief scuffle as both Teyla and Ronon tried to claim his abandoned Jell-O.
After dinner, Rodney took a long shower, somewhat guiltily enjoying the ready presence of so much hot water coursing over his pleasantly tired muscles. It was an indulgent, sensual experience, but one he allowed himself. When he was done and dry, he made some tea and went and had a pleasant chat with Elizabeth. She seemed distracted-frowning at first when he came into her office, his bare arms still slightly damp from the shower. But the tea calmed her, as did the welcome opportunity to spend a few minutes talking about her day with someone who wasn't in any way evaluating her. Rodney valued that, too. He went back to his quarters feeling sleepy and relaxed, ready-but not desperate-for rest.
He woke in the middle of the night, sweaty and panting. He felt like the scab had come off, and the wound reopened, his dark dreams bleeding into the comforting blanket of peace he tried to wrap around himself throughout the day, irrevocably staining it. He could still hear the shouts, smell the tents and-please, no-the trapped people burning. And yet he knew, he knew-those were the lucky ones. He saw a face, a man's kind, lined face-and then he saw it disappear in a flash far brighter and more deadly than that brief burst on the planet the day before. His father. He tried not to think, tried not to remember, that there were worse ones: dreams where he not only relived the moment of his father being taken from him, but imagined that it was he, Rodney himself, waiting with teeth bared and palm extended on the other side.
He shivered, though he normally found Atlantis unusually warm, and tried to force his mind and body to remember the calmness of those wide, open spaces while his spirit sobbed and raged in turn.
*
Teyla stayed late in the labs, mulling over some curious data sent down from Hermiod on the Daedalus. By the time she realized what time it was, and that she had a briefing early the next morning, she was too exhausted than to do much more than stagger back to her room and collapse.
She slept peacefully...for about three hours.
Then Campbell was radioing and speaking in a tone of not-quite-panic about some strange alert that the Ancient system had registered but that their equipment couldn't make sense of, and Teyla was actually feeling somewhat glad that she'd slept in her clothes, because that was one less thing to worry about as she staggered out the door, her eyes bleary and her hair standing up every-which-way, like she'd made the mistake of letting Jeannie "experiment" with it again.
The problem turned out to have to do with an inordinate number of people having used the toilets by the west pier. Apparently those were special toilets, and Atlantis was picky about them.
Teyla really hated the world.
The sun was shining merrily through the Ancient stained glass by the time this fascinating puzzle was resolved. Teyla mainlined about twelve cups of coffee, splashed some water on her face, and reported to the briefing room.
Ronon came in, yawning and stretching like a big, content cat. "Nice night?"
Unfortunately, looks could not, in fact, kill.
*
Elizabeth had already heard John's reasons for wanting to return to M7X-948 the night before, but she had him reiterate them briefly now, which he did: calm, concise, dark-eyed.
"'I have a bad feeling about this'?" Teyla said, when he was done. "Your reasoning-and please note how generous I am being by calling it that-is 'I have a bad feeling about this'?"
John folded his arms. "That's what Han Solo said. And then bang: tractor beam, Death Star."
Teyla's eyes narrowed. "So, wait, I'm sorry: You're saying if we don't go back to Planet Migraine, we're going to get captured by Darth Vader?" She looked at Elizabeth imploringly.
Privately, Rodney trusted John's instincts and agreed that the odd incident on M7X-948 was worth further investigation; he also understood that Star Wars was an important philosophical work among the Colonel's people. He still thought Teyla might be right that it didn't quite apply under these circumstances, however.
He started to say so, but before he could, Teyla snapped, "Excuse me? Still talking," and continued arguing that a boring, funny-smelling planet with no good trade opportunities and no interesting tech besides a nasty, headache-causing flash bulb was certainly not worth their valuable time and effort. Rodney took a deep breath-in through his nose, out through his mouth-and decided to let her fight this particular battle on her own.
In the end, it was decided that they would go back to M7X-948-but with the added back-up of Major Lorne's team. Elizabeth tried to console Teyla by suggesting that she herself wouldn't have to go back into the "Chamber of Headaches," but as Teyla pointed out, "Who else is going to figure out why the stupid thing is causing a disturbance in the Force?"
Rodney empathized. He knew from experience that if you were brought up following a certain set of religious beliefs, it could be hard to fully let them go.
*
Teyla was not happy to be back here. Her headache started up again almost as soon as they were through the gate, and since Sheppard insisted on following his stupid "park the jumper some distance away from your actual goal" protocol, she had to aggravate it by taking a hike through the hot sun. Her skull throbbed-a horrible, itchy ache, like someone was psychically squeezing her cerebral cortex, preventing her from thinking. Maybe, she thought, almost hopefully-maybe she was having a hypoglycemic reaction? She'd barely had breakfast, after all. She opened one of her vest pockets and wolfed down a powerbar, then more slowly unwrapped another. She began to feel a bit better.
"Whoa, there, Doctor Emmagan!"
She glanced up. Cadman-goddammit-had drawn up beside her. "You might want to slow down there," the lieutenant said, smirking, "if you're gonna keep your girlish figure."
Teyla felt herself flush. "And maybe if you ate more you'd actually have enough energy make it to your brain," she snapped, barely aware of whether the words even made sense. She felt something-a teasing tension at the base of her spine-a bizarre conviction that if she wanted to, she could pummel Cadman's stupid blonde face into the ground. The powerbar wrapper crumpled in her hand and-
"Excuse me, I am sorry to interrupt." Rodney glided in between them, a blankly serene smile on his face. "My apologies, Lieutenant, but I need Doctor Emmagan's advice about...about some energy readings."
"No problem." Cadman smiled at him, then threw Teyla a wink before falling back beside Sergeant Shelmerdine.
"Energy readings?" Teyla questioned, preparing to be indignant about...being rescued from Cadman? How insulting. But Rodney just frowned, glancing briefly at the handheld sensor she had withdrawn (just to make sure). For a second, it almost looked like he wanted to wrestle it out of her hands.
Then his expression was back to being imperturbable again. "These headaches," he said, "are they a dull sort of ache at the back of your skull?"
Teyla huffed. "More like a horrific stabbing pain," she said, then paused. "Wait. You too?"
"It was mild at first," he said. "I did not want-"
Teyla had already made up her mind. "That's it, we're going back. Sheppard!"
But Sheppard had already entered the abandoned building.
*
Rodney was, once again, surprised: as much as she complained and rambled on and on about their impending doom when it was merely hypothetical, when one of her teammates was in trouble, Teyla acted. When she saw that John had already gone inside the building that Rodney was beginning to suspect was as potentially dangerous as she had claimed, Teyla didn't hesitate. Well, not for any longer than it took to say, "Crap," anyway. Then she charged off toward the entrance, and Rodney followed, leaving Cadman and Shelmerdine exchanging puzzled looks in their wake.
John was standing just inside the entrance, chewing on the inside of his lip. "Huh," he said.
Teyla pulled up beside him. "Sheppard-" she started, then likewise fell into a contemplative slouch. "Oh. It's not so bad in here."
Ronon came back from having circumnavigated the room. "Don't feel like the oven's on anymore?"
John scratched his head. "No, apparently, I'm a fucking squirrel." He smiled sheepishly. "Pardon my French."
Rodney had no idea what he was talking about, but at least his headache was already fading, receding with every careful breath.
"Something's still going on, though," Teyla said, unstrapping her computer. Rodney once again felt a strange desire to take it from her, to check what she was doing himself. Another pair of deep breaths pushed the feeling away. "I have a-"
"-A feeling?" said John, wryly.
"Yes," said Teyla, with a dignified tilt of her chin. Rodney would never tell anyone that he'd come to find it rather endearing.
"I'm going to go see what Lorne's up to." John nodded and headed toward the door.
"Wait," said Teyla. She had gotten down on her knees and was trying to pry up a large section of metal flooring. "I need someone to-"
"I'm going with Sheppard," announced Ronon, and slipped out as well.
"Well, it looks like you drew the short straw," Teyla told him, breathing heavily. She had the flooring up and was straining to hold it in place while simultaneously trying to get a look at what was underneath.
Rodney came over and relieved her of it. He had to work hard at restraining a smile at the sight of her immediately worming her way under it, intent on her goal, oblivious to the fact that she was thrusting her ass into the air, two inches away from his nose.
His thoughts abruptly turned, and Rodney took a deep breath-in through his nose; out through his mouth.
"Huh," Teyla said, squirming some more. "This looks sort of familiar." Her ass wiggled again as she attached a wire to some sort of crystal- Rodney likewise felt a moment's shock of recognition. His grip on the piece of flooring slipped.
"Hey, watch it!" Teyla snapped. She ducked back out, her hair falling loose and messy over slightly smudged cheeks. "Okay-now that you won't risk decapitating me-you can set it down."
He did. There was enough space for the wires she had inserted to slide through, and she fed them into her computer. She typed quickly; he glanced over her shoulder and the commands she entered didn't make sense to him. For some reason, this bothered him-so he settled back on the older, more familiar bother of the scent of her sweat: the honest, clean kind, that reminded him of being alive.
Teyla seemed, mercifully, oblivious to that, too; she said, "Hm," and entered two more emphatic strokes. Another piece of flooring, one several paces away from them and against the wall, hissed; a moment later, there was an identical, echoing answer on the other side of the room. They both looked up: hand and foot holds had appeared both places, two of each at each end of the room. "I knew it," Teyla said.
Rodney suspected that actually, she was just as confused as he was.
She got to her feet, heavy in thick-soled boots. She hesitated for a moment in front of the depressions in the wall and floor, obviously calculating the odds of whether they would snag her and kill her in some horrible way. Rodney had heard her expound for hours about the risks inherent in a fifteen minute walk on a partly-cloudy day, but when it came to potential discoveries, he knew that she wouldn't be able to keep her curiosity in check. "Teyla-" he started, but it was too late. Already she'd slid her hands and feet into position, and pressed.
Nothing happened. He heard them both release a breath. A strange feeling of-what was the phrase? Déjà vu?-swept over him. That moment of relief-it wasn't the first time-
"Hmm," Teyla said again. Then she snapped her fingers. "Rodney, why don't you go stand on the other side. It probably needs two people to..."
It wasn't that she had stopped talking. But the words slipped from his brain like wet paint sliding down a wall. His awareness of the room faded out and Rodney's head felt suddenly full to bursting with-oh!-so many voices, and a roaring buzz, coming closer and closer, swarming down-
"Wraith!" he gasped. "The Wraith-"
Dimly, he was aware of his whole body throbbing with adrenaline, and of Teyla's eyes going wide.
*
She had the sense to radio Sheppard before scooping her supplies into her bag. Rodney was grabbing her arm and a couple pieces of equipment scattered. She left them and they raced out the door. Outside it was eerily silent. Teyla followed Major Lorne when he gestured for them to move toward the trees, but though she was straining her ears, she couldn't yet hear anything.
Beside her, Rodney looked like he had rockets going off in his head.
"The gate-" he said, and then Lorne said, "Shit" as suddenly there was the horrible shriek of darts above them. "Fall back!" Lorne said, and Teyla never understood what he meant by that-fall back to where; the Wraith had come through the gate, so where else was there to run? And oh God, where were the others? Where were Sheppard and Ronon?
She was virtually useless in situations like these and she-ever sharp-tongued and articulate-hated it more than she could possibly put into words.
"Head for the jumper," Lorne commanded, pushing her forward with a hand on her back. "Rodney-stay with her."
Rodney had his P-90 out already-Teyla was still fumbling with hers-and he had an expression of cold, thin-mouthed determination on his face that made him look actually alien. Normally-and despite the fact that Teyla would never admit thinking such a thing about another person's company-she found the Athosian's presence oddly calming; stepping into his arms, she imagined (which she didn't) would be like stepping into a cool, quiescent lake. Now, though-well. She was just glad he was on her side.
They ran, keeping low to the ground, Teyla at one point starting and accidentally removing the threat of some undoubtedly vicious bushes.
They reached the approximate location of the jumper and, once Rodney had assured himself that there were no Wraith immediately present, Teyla produced the secondary remote. They didn't even wait for the cloak to finish wavering before they made a break for it, and Teyla had only one foot on the entrance ramp when she flicked the switch to hide them again. She breathed a long sigh of relief and tried to concentrate on what to do next.
"Should we wait here or should I try to fly to pick them up? I could fly and pick them up, but what if while we're looking they come here and we're gone and they're exposed?" She moved into the cockpit and glanced anxiously out the window, hoping that she'd see Sheppard and Ronon and the rest running toward them, removing the necessity of a "tactical" decision on her part.
"You could try your radio," Rodney suggested gently.
Teyla felt like a dumbass. There weren't words to describe how much she hated that, either.
Rodney had already followed his own suggestion and was receiving barking orders from Sheppard to "Just! Wait! There!" Teyla felt the throb of her heart and tried to reassure herself that they were all fine, and that she wasn't having a stroke. She glanced out the window again. On the far side of the jumper from where they had come, almost obscured by a strategic boulder, she could just make out the gate. It was no longer initiated-a surprising, and immediately suspicious, piece of good fortune. There was a pair of Wraith standing guard-one skull-faced drone, and one of the more style-conscious, leather jacket and tattoos type. The latter was running its hands up one Ancient curve, then kneeling down and-
"Oh, no."
Rodney turned to face her.
"No, no, no."
"What?"
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath. "We have to go," she said.
Rodney stared at her.
"Come on! Now!" she demanded. "You're going to have to give me cover fire-oh God, I can't believe this!"
He wasn't moving. "Colonel Sheppard said to say here. We're not leaving him and the others."
ARGH. She wasn't sure what hurt more-having to explain everything in excruciating detail, or the idea-even the very idea-that he would honestly think that of her. That she was that much of a coward.
"Look! Look out there!" she said, waving her arms wildly. "Do you see that? That is a Wraith and it's got its hand halfway up inside the stargate! You know, that thing we use to get home? And somehow, call me crazy, I don't think it's trying to help us improve power efficiency!"
"We have to stop him." The Resolve Face was back. Wonderful.
"Yes, yes, and I'm probably going to have to fix whatever damage he's done-oh God."
They slipped outside. "Leave the remote," Rodney whispered, and Teyla hid it quickly at the base of a tree.
She could do this. She could. She gripped her P-90 tightly and kept close to Rodney's side. They were going to sneak around the boulder and then on Rodney's signal she was just going to aim at the nearest Wraith and fire at the thing until the message finally got through its thick skull that it was dead and it went down.
They could do this. She was too brilliant to die.
They were rounding the boulder when suddenly Rodney went still. His head snapped up. Then before Teyla even really registered what was happening, he was firing at a third Wraith dropping down from above them, from-over? on top of?-the rock, and even when it kept coming and reached for his chest he kept firing until it fell.
There was, Teyla knew, still the possibility that it was alive. Rodney stepped forward and positioned his foot, then calmly broke its neck.
Teyla was still processing this when, "Duck," he said, and she dove down as another Wraith came up behind her and Rodney's P-90 responded with more fire. A stunner blast hit the rock and Teyla's grip on the trigger slipped as she dropped just below it. She didn't understand: how could she be this clumsy when for everyone else-Sheppard, Ronon, Rodney-it seemed to come so easily? She pulled herself to her knees at Rodney's side, aware-oh, all too aware-that there was still a third Wraith and that-
Jesus. As if on cue, it loomed up out of nowhere, rising like Nosferatu at Rodney's back. Teyla squeezed the trigger and started unloading her P-90 into it, and though she succeeded in drawing it away from him, it reacted to the bullets the way she might have to a handful of rice-brushing the grains away; annoyed, maybe, that they had gotten in her hair. Then it reached out with one hand and wrested the still-firing gun from her grasp.
When they were that resilient, it meant they were old. That they had fed recently.
It hurled her back against the rock. Her head thunked-bye bye, precious brain cells-but she shook it off and grappled for her Beretta. She managed three-no, four-shots into its abdomen before its hand closed around her throat.
Oh, God-she was going to die. She remembered Gall's wrinkled face and bloodied chest, how his hand had shook when she pressed the gun into it. Her fault. But he at least had had some illusion of choice in his last moments, while now, she-possessed of the most brilliant mind in two galaxies-was completely helpless. Brilliance didn't matter now. Death took it all away. Who she was, what she had done, what she could still do-so many good things-
She saw the tree branch coming a second before it connected, and though terror still held her, she actually smiled as the Wraith pulled its hand back to strike.
It toppled back onto the ground instead, and before it could bounce back up, Teyla stumbled forward, clutching her side, and emptied the clip into its skull.
"Took you long enough," she said.
"Right," said Rodney. He dropped the branch by the Wraith's corpse and followed her to the gate.
She knelt, examining the panel the Wraith had removed and immediately identifying the damage she needed to undo. She was disturbed by the fact that the Wraith had suddenly resorted to sabotage, but she couldn't worry about the implications now. She could still hear sporadic gunfire from the direction they had come-where the rest of her team and Major Lorne's still were-and her own close call had left her heart doing some sort of percussion finale in her chest. Rodney's presence beside her was immensely reassuring-just him standing there, one hand on his gun and the other pressed gently to her shoulder.
Without thinking, she lifted a hand and curled her fingers through his, squeezing.
It took her a second to realize what she had done. She tried to pull back, but his thumb stroking across her knuckles paused her. Their eyes met: his a deep, quiet blue in his solemn face. She felt his fingers' squeeze not on her hand but inside, terrifying and tender and joyous, and she opened her mouth-opened her mouth most likely to spoil it all-to tell him-
An explosion rocked them both, orange flame bursting on the horizon. Before Teyla could fully rise an answering flame bloomed and burned inside her skull. Rodney stumbled, but this time neither of them fell, because they were there to hold each other up.
It washed over them like a shockwave, and then dispersed, leaving not even a ripple in the air.
Teyla looked over at Rodney and Rodney looked over at her. His eyes were huge, his mouth open in dumb shock, and Teyla would not have been surprised if her expression were much the same. Her left hand was still tangled among the inner workings of the gate, and she let it drop out, guiltily. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but something-and in spite of everything that had just occurred, Teyla couldn't think what-made him change his mind. They switched places, wordlessly.
Rodney was just closing the panel on the gate when their teammates came charging toward them, Lorne and his people following. "I thought I told you to wait in the-whoa," said John, skidding to a halt and looking back and forth between them several times.
"There was an explosion," said Teyla, well aware that this didn't answer his question-any of them.
"We lured them into the outpost. Then we blew it up." Ronon's brow was deeply furrowed, and Teyla resigned herself to the fact that she'd be receiving similar stares-or worse ones-for several days to come.
"A perfectly rigged explosion if I do say so myself," said Cadman, glancing past them as if she could somehow see the cloaked jumper if she just stared hard enough. A second later, she did an impressive double-take. "Wait a minute. You're Rodney and you're Teyla-I mean, not that you weren't previously- But you're-"
"Yes, yes," said Rodney quickly, and Teyla felt an odd twinge at the impatient patter of his voice. "I am she as she is me and someone-Ronon, probably-is the Walrus; let's discuss this later when we're not still facing imminent death, hmm?"
As she ran back to the jumper, Teyla was aware that though she'd never heard it before, she knew that song; it was by a band called The Beatles, and the day John Lennon died, Rodney's mother had sobbed as she'd served them dinner; wrenching sobs from a woman who hadn't ever shed a tear for her son's scrapes and bruises and far more serious brushes with death; and eventually, Rodney's father had leaned across the table and slapped her.
Rodney hadn't thought seriously about that night in twenty years. But Teyla remembered.
She took a deep breath as the jumper lifted off. In through her nose. Out through her mouth. She was calm. Centered.
Alive.
*
Rodney, in the jumper, was uncharacteristically quiet. He could feel everyone else-everyone else save Teyla-staring at him, but he didn't say anything, didn't turn around and snap. He dialed Atlantis, entered his IDC, and watched the wormhole whoosh and ripple before him.
It was both reassuring and a little terrifying to remember again exactly how it worked.
Sheppard piloted them into the gateroom, where Elizabeth, standing on her balcony (and how she worried when they were gone, pacing the upper levels like a widow's walk; he could remember her telling him, though it hadn't been him) issued her relieved greeting. Then up, into the jumper bay.
Sheppard was setting her down when Rodney suddenly started to laugh, uncontrollably. "You okay, buddy?" Sheppard asked, but Rodney shook him off. His eyes were tearing up. Through them, he could barely see Ronon looking at him quizzically. It only made him laugh harder.
"What?" said Lorne. "What is it?"
Rodney nearly choked on another burst of hysterical giggles. Grinning hugely, he pointed at a suddenly surprised Satedan. The memory would be awesome forever, he thought, and snorted.
"I beat up Ronon," he gasped out, and collapsed into laughter again.
*
Elizabeth met them at the door to the conference room, the look of concern on her face only intensifying when John announced casually, "Ran into some Wraith." Elizabeth opened her mouth to respond to that, but before she could, her eyes fell on Teyla. And then moved to Rodney. Then moved back to Teyla.
"Explain," she said.
Rodney had a theory. Teyla, as it happened, had the same theory-which wasn't, she thought, the result of the little bit of...sharing they had just done, but rather the simple result of having seen the same set of things and drawn the reasonable conclusion. "I don't know if the Ancients used it for diplomatic negotiations or for couples counseling, but as always they seem to have taken what we consider to be simple adages a little too far. I would have been able to find out more-" And Teyla shivered again as she remembered that that's what she had been doing-her hands, moving capably over the Ancient equipment- "But then Cadman went and blew it up."
He glared at her. Cadman rolled her eyes. "It was kind of full of Wraith at the time," she said.
Bitch, thought Teyla, and immediately felt ashamed.
Elizabeth was still looking back and forth between Teyla and Rodney like she thought they might at any second merge together, or activate their wonder twin powers. (And oh! This amount of "pop culture" knowledge was truly appalling. She didn't understand how Rodney could be so protective of his brain, and yet allow all this useless garbage to be swimming around in there all the time.) "Well," Elizabeth said, with somewhat forced brightness. "At least you may have learned something?"
Rodney appeared to think for a second. Then, "I beat up Ronon," he pointed out.
The meeting essentially over, Teyla eased her way out.
She was almost at the transporter when Cadman caught up to her. "Hey," she said.
Teyla turned a diplomatic smile on her. She hadn't had a great deal of interaction with Cadman in the past; she knew Cadman was good at her work, that she had dated Carson for a while, and that she and Rodney didn't get along. None of these things (besides, briefly, the second) had sparked any particular interest on Teyla's part.
No animosity, either, and so Teyla was slightly surprised to find that the smile, when she slipped it on, was so brittle. "Yes?" she said. She realized vaguely that she should probably check in with Carson, and wondered if Cadman had been sent to remind her.
Instead Cadman surprised her by donning a somewhat rueful look. "I just wanted to say I was sorry," and in a flash, Teyla remembered Cadman's smirking, insidious little insults earlier that day. Teyla knew it hadn't really been her, Teyla, who Cadman was poking fun at, but at the time it had certainly felt like it, and Teyla understood now why her hackles had risen at the lieutenant's approach.
She was all ready to say, "Apology accepted," though unexpectedly it still bothered her-because it was only due to the fact that the insults had hit the wrong target that they were being retracted? Because she had never felt insecure about her body before, and hadn't liked it one bit? But then Cadman's face broke out into a sly grin. "Believe me I sympathize," she said. "Having also had a fun vacation inside McKay's head, I know it is not pretty. Hey," she gave Teyla's shoulder a friendly nudge, "maybe we can start a support group?"
For a moment Teyla was too stunned to speak. She felt irrationally angry, and she couldn't-she wouldn't allow that in herself, those kinds of fury-fueled lashings-out. Cadman didn't mean it. Or rather, she meant it, but not as any sort of insult to Teyla. Ironically, she was even trying to be friendly.
With effort, Teyla unclenched her fists and schooled her expression.
"Thank you for the sympathy," she said. "I think a little empathy might actually serve you better."
Teyla got into the transporter, her gaze level and fixed straight ahead.
*
Once again, Rodney had the rest of the day off, and this time he actually tried to take it. He had a backlog of scientific journals he wanted to read and laugh at, and he settled himself on his bed with them fanned out prettily in front of them.
He was less than two pages into the first when he began to feel restless.
It was just-just-the memory, the feeling of so much physical control, so much physical power-! No wonder people got all excited about their exercise regimes. He'd never understood it, because it had never worked that way for him; instead it was all pain, no gain. But God, the rush! He played over in his head his fight with Ronon. (That had been him! (Kind of.) Kicking Ronon's ass! (Totally.)) And even under much more intense, frightening circumstances, taking on the Wraith. It had still been scary-especially since he'd been very, very aware that he had Teyla to protect-but even through the fear, and maybe because of it, he'd been so focused, so in control. It was the exact opposite of how he felt when faced with physical danger; usually, a big, scary monster in his face was the one thing liable to make him feel like his brilliant mind was dribbling out his ears. But back on that planet, he'd known just what to do. He'd stepped into a high-pressure situation and...thrived.
Being jealous of yourself-from-another-universe was bad enough; it would be really lame if he were now jealous of his Ancient-technology-engineered fused-with-Teyla self.
And he wasn't. Not really. Because in truth it was a relief to have his own precious brain back and functioning in his own precious skull. Being all calm and dignified all the time was actually kind of creepy and weird. And, much to his surprise, it took a lot more effort than he'd assumed.
He remembered Teyla's nightmares and frowned. Everyone had nightmares, he reminded himself. If you were lucky enough to get more than three hours' sleep a night, you could deal with a few pesky little bad dreams. They were nothing to lose sleep over (ha ha).
He picked up his journal again and tried to remember what he'd been reading. Something hilariously wrong, he was sure-
It was wrong. It was so damn wrong, but he couldn't stop thinking about it. Teyla-as-him. Yelling at everyone and not letting anyone else talk-and yeah, it was obnoxious, but he already knew he was obnoxious; it was one of the immutable laws of the universe-Newton could have written about it. But Teyla-possibly because on some level she was still Teyla and not really him-had made all of his typical, loudmouthed behavior seem almost inspiring. He remembered her quick, clever hands molding the Ancient equipment to her will... Maybe he could give her some basic engineering lessons? Because that had been hot.
Er. It was probably bad that he found that hot, right? Kind of masturbatory. Was it his fault that he was turned on by competence?
Of course, Teyla was pretty damn competent all on her own. He knew it first hand, now. (One Wraith. Two Wraith. Three.) And she was patient-like, obscenely patient with her obnoxious teammates (present company-okay, included) and pretty much everyone else. And she was kind, and supportive, and okay, Rodney could recognize that those were valuable qualities. You know, in other people. He was just weirded out because for a couple of days, that other person had been him.
It wouldn't be too hard to shake off. He'd been able to brush off whatever clung from Cadman's personality like a few annoying burrs. His time-as Teyla, with Teyla-had been much less traumatizing, and thus would surely be far easier to forget.
Just...he wasn't quite sure he wanted to.
He stared at the journal he was holding and saw instead Teyla's slim, capable fingers, closing around the hand he had placed protectively on her shoulder. He remembered how she had looked at him-like he was amazing. But...but that had been her, hadn't it-she was the amazing one. Teyla was.
Yeah, way to go, stupid Ancient device. Like he hadn't known that already.
He pushed the journals off his bed and crawling under the covers, hoped he wouldn't dream again about Teyla's loved ones dying, or about all the ways she'd probably been unsurprised and disappointed by him.
*
"So," said John, the next morning at breakfast, "that was weird."
None of them had to ask which particular that he was referring to. It would be the current weird thing, until it became the previous weird thing. Eventually, it would become, "Hey, remember a few months ago? That weird thing? No, the other one. Yeah. That was all pretty weird."
Spending so much time-in? with?-Rodney's head had done strange things to her mental vocabulary.
It also seemed to have dampened her enjoyment of orange juice. That was unfortunate. She'd liked orange juice. It was much better than the stuff the people from Earth pretended were eggs.
Ronon kicked Rodney under the table; Teyla could feel the vibration as his leg moved. "Hey, McKay. Want a rematch?"
"I think I'd prefer to rest on my laurels." Rodney sounded distracted. Teyla wondered if he'd gotten any sleep last night, or if he'd been woken again and kept awake until dawn. She remembered how his (her) shoulders had ached after a long night hunched in front of the computer, and she wanted to reach across the table and rub the knots out of his back, remind him that for the nine times it was stupid, annoying, or life-threatening (and sometimes, all three), there would be that one time, the time that would make it all worth it. That glorious, almost orgasmic rush of discovery...she wanted to tell him that for her, at least, the strangeness and the confusion and the uncomfortable feeling of confidences unwillingly shared-it was all worth it. To experience that just once had made it all worth it, because it helped her to know him better: her teammate, her friend. She wanted to tell him that.
She wanted-
Oh. Oh.
She flushed. She'd have to think about this more later, when Ronon wasn't making moves on her bacon.
*
Rodney knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help himself. So he let his body be drawn-inexorably, foot over foot-down to the gym. He really had other things he ought to be doing.
It was late, so the training room was mercifully empty. Rodney took off his jacket and draped it over the creepy Mr. Torso thing. He shivered. Even that was strange-Teyla was always a little too warm. Maybe he could adjust the environmental controls for her? Make the city more comfortable. Then he shook his head-no, that was stupid: then he'd be cold all the time. And possibly Teyla'd stop wearing so many skimpy tops.
Idly-or so he firmly told himself-he picked up one of the training sticks. These were not Teyla's; she had her own, personal ones which she had carved herself-kind of like a Jedi Knight cutting the crystal for his own lightsaber, and oh man, he really needed to have a word with Teyla about Star Wars one of these days...
(In his mind's eye he could see the stick twirling in his hand, see and feel it moving easily between his fingers, feel the easy bend and give of the wood against his palm...)
He tried one turn and it dropped almost immediately, the stick skittering across the floor like it was ashamed.
Rodney stared at it. See? He'd known this was stupid.
"Would you like a lesson?"
He made some dumb, surprised noise but managed to bite most of it back. By the time he turned around, he'd made sure that his expression showed only annoyance. "No," he said, "I just...saw a strange power spike down here and thought I'd come investigate." He retrieved his jacket. "Go ahead, it's all yours."
"Rodney."
She had a commanding voice, Teyla-the-leader-of-her-people. He turned. She was standing there with her arms loose and her shoulders relaxed, a patient, serene expression on her face. He knew now some of what she was hiding, but it only made him admire her more.
His head dropped. He could see her-every time he blinked, or came at her from an angle-that other her, smart and prickly and vulnerable. That last quality, vulnerability, was not one he admired in himself, but for her to wear it had made things so much easier. He'd liked it, he realized-the idea that he could protect her. That was a relationship between a man and a woman that he could understand, could admire and appreciate, even if he, as himself, could never truly participate.
"I'm sorry." It was either apologize or start calling her a dumb brunette. He really didn't want to go through that again.
"Rodney," she said, reaching up to touch his arm, "you have nothing to apologize for."
He managed an almost-smile, a wry, rueful upturn of the left side of his mouth. "You've been in my head, you know that's not true." Oh God-the Noodle Incident. She probably knew about the Noodle Incident. Now every time she looked at him, she'd be thinking about that. Great.
Yet her eyes were still searching his face, her hand still roving. She touched the backs of her fingers to his temple, and he nearly shook with the effort of not moving.
"Perhaps I was wrong," she said. "You may in fact owe me an apology." She had captured his gaze and he felt pinned, as surely as the Wraith had pinned her to the rock. The one time he'd actually been able to save her.
"You have been inside my head as well, and yet you still hold me too much in awe."
"I-"
"I am as human as you, Rodney." She was whispering, an intense, heady rasp. "I get scared and I get lonely and I-"
In that moment he felt possessed, like someone far braver and bolder had borrowed his body. That calm, controlled him-that was the her in him-that was the two of them together: it reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, and hers on his shoulder, guiding him. He let his eyes flutter closed and then it happened: their lips fit together like two errant puzzle pieces dismissed as a match because one showed sky and the other water-so different, even when they reflected each other, even when they were both blue.
"Oh man," Rodney said a while later. "Ronon's totally gonna demand that rematch now. He's going to kill me!"
Teyla smiled to herself in the peaceful, quiet dark. "He'll have to get through me first," she promised.
NOTES:
1. Miscellaneous jokes and references owe credit to Joss Whedon, Eddie Izzard, and Bill Watterson. And of course, that famed religious leader, George Lucas.
2. If someone draws Rodney in Athosian garb and Teyla in a lab coat with messy scientist hair (and possibly glasses?) I will DIE OF HAPPINESS. Just sayin'. ;-)