[nano] Stained Glass Masquerade
Nov. 7th, 2007 09:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeWhen Teyla woke at last, she did not at first know where she was. The world seemed fogged over in a haze of pain and her body did not work the way it should. She tried to move, and found herself restrained. Restrained and tucked into bed.
"Hello?" Restrained was one thing, but tucked into bed implied that it was for her own good, and given the white hot jagged edge of pain that pressed against her chest and she tried to struggle against the restraints, she was inclined to both believe that her unseen captor at her best interests at heart and to agree with him. A broken collarbone, a broken rib, something.
In bits and pieces, her memory of the last few hours returned. Or at least, what she thought with the last few hours. The shuttle's survey team with two scientists and another Athosian, a magnetic anomaly that had disabled the Jumper's systems, the impending crash. The pilot warning them to brace themselves for impact. Darkness.
Suddenly it became imperative that she get out of bed. "Hello?" she called, a little more urgently. "Is anyone there?"
There was someone there. She knew someone was there, she heard the person's footsteps approaching her. But she didn't see who it was, not when they came up behind her and injected her with a sedative. In minutes she was unconscious again.
Awake again. In less pain, this time, although whether that was due to pain killers or to the natural healing process, she didn't know. She still didn't see anyone, but her unseen benefactor had given her a new perspective on the room. She was raised up a little more now, and could see around her.
More than that, she could see a bed with the sheets still wrinkled, as though someone had been lying in it recently. There was some medical equipment next to it, all of it disconnected and folded neatly into a position that indicated it was not expected to be needed at any time soon. Perhaps she had not been the only survivor, but simply the only one to survive so long.
Teyla tried to move her fingers, and was more than a little relieved to find that she could. She might not have been able to undo the restraints, but she could at least feel and move all of her limbs.
"I am in less pain now," she said, a little louder so that if anyone else was in the room they might hear her. "I am healing, thanks to you."
No answer. Perhaps they simply weren't there.
Rapidly, she began to realize why Sheppard and McKay could be such poor patients. It was incredibly boring being strapped to a bed for hours on end. It was enough to make anyone wary of prolonged medical treatment.
"I would like to thank you," she tried again, after what felt like hours and hours. "And I am curious as to the fate of my companions, although I suppose you would have communicated to me in some way if they had survived as well." Or perhaps that was overdoing it.
Still silence. It was getting wearying, and she was a little afraid of the echo of her voice. The longer the silence went on, the more strange possibilities had time to work their way into her mind. The Genii? The Replicators?
"I hoped you did intend to feed me," she said finally, before the needle came again and she was unconscious.
This time when she awoke, her restraints were somewhat more unusual and inspired.
One hand was free, the other still tethered to the bed. She could sit up, a very little bit, but enough to bring her head vertical and her shoulders as well, just a bit. It seemed as though the whole contraption had been jury rigged from bandages, ties, and medical tape of some kind. There was also a tray in front of her, and a bowl of soup. One of the MREs of which Dr. McKay was so fond.
There was a flash of familiarity there, that was dismissed out of hand as being ridiculous. But she did note that whoever her caretaker was, they seemed to have made good use of the Jumper's supplies.
She ate carefully, mindful that it was still hot (and what did it say about how recently her captor/caretaker had been there?) And that she would quite likely not be able to eat very much in the way of solid food for now. When the bowl was nearly empty she pushed it a little ways out in front of her, settled back into the bed, and closed her eyes.
Meditation was good for many things, and this was not the first time she had tried this trick. Whoever her captor was, they were most likely watching her to make sure she didn't choke on her food, and to see when she had finished. If she fell asleep voluntarily it might make them more inclined to come out and take the bowl away, giving her her first good look at the person.
As skilled as she was at keeping her body relaxed and her face composed, her eyes just opened far enough to be able to see beneath the lashes, it wasn't enough to silence the telling beep of the monitor as her pulse jumped.
He stopped, not much more than halfway into the room but close enough to be well-lit and very recognizable. "You might as well open your eyes, Teyla. I know that you're awake."
"Michael." She opened her eyes, not bothering to conceal the shock and astonishment on her face. "What have you done with the others?"
The words were out before she could give them consideration, and yet even if she had she didn't know if it would have made a difference. His face twisted a little, and his stride as he moved up closer to her to take the bowl away was angry. He didn't say anything.
"Michael." She tried to catch his arm with her free hand, but he stepped out of the way more quickly than she could move. "I did not mean it that way. We crashed, you have..." she didn't know what to call it. "You have saved my life, but are any of the others still alive?"
He was quiet for a moment, standing there with bowl in hand. "The pilot was dead on impact," he said finally. "The two scientists shortly thereafter. The third lived for another two days."
She wanted, a little bit, to ask if he had gotten hungry. Perhaps she had been hanging around with Sheppard a little too much. "Thank you."
Michael gave her a startled look, as though he hadn't expected her to thank him. He might not have expected anything of her at all. She hadn't been terribly sure, herself. The last time they had both been in this position he had been in the process of feeding her to an Iratus bug.
Which reminded her of a question she might want to ask. "What are your intentions?"
He took the bowl over to what appeared to be a tray of dirty things, wheeling it over to the door before he answered her.
"Your friends are already looking for you. It would not be safe for me or for them for me to keep you here. I have already moved the bodies of your friends to the crash site, and since you seem to be stable I will move you there as well. And I will trust," he added, with particular emphasis on that so very dangerous word. "I will trust that you will not tell them about me."
He left before she could answer, which was all right, since she didn't know how she would answer anyway. It was hard for her to imagine that he would believe that they would believe what happened, that ridiculous story about a crash with no survivors but her when she had so obviously had medical attention. She asked him as much, when he came back to undo her restraints.
"How can you believe that they will not have questions for me, how did I survive, who aided me?"
Michael snorted. "They will be so grateful to have you back and alive that they will not ask questions they do not want to know the answers to. They won't want to think about what might have happened."
"That is..." insightful, was what that was. She hadn't expected that kind of insight from him. But why not? He had been insightful about every other point of interaction between them. "You may be right."
He didn't say anything. He also didn't help her off the bed, and started to push it just as she tried to get off, herself. "Don't..."
Her legs crumpled down to the ground, weak and failing her. She hit the floor in a heap of limbs and a position that would've been painful even if she hadn't been injured, crying out with the shock and pain of it.
Instantly he was kneeling down beside her, one arm around her shoulders and one hand carefully wrapped around her upper arm, helping her uncurled her wounded torso. "That was stupid," he all but snarled.
"So I see," she said, strained but trying to put a rueful smile on her face. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe, hurt to move, and her world swam before her eyes in waiting patterns and little red dots of light. Seemingly without effort, he scooped her up in his arms and laid her very carefully out on the bed again.
"Do I need to tell you not to move again?"
"No," she whispered, deciding not to waste more breath on louder speech. "Thank you, again."
He gave her what she thought was an odd and slightly puzzled look, before wheeling her out of the room and down the corridor. Whatever this complex was, outside of that medical room it looked very worn down. The walls and ceilings seem to be eaten away with moss, and she wondered a little whether or not he was worried about the ceiling collapsing in on them. Probably not.
It only occurred to her then that he must have been living here at least for some time, on the planet, with them. "Did you follow us here?" she asked, trying to understand. "How did you find us?"
He didn't answer. Decaying and broken hallway gave way to a place that looked at least a little more lived in, fixed up. She craned her neck around to look at her surroundings, to try and get an idea of where this place was that he lived and how long he had lived here. Again, the pain stopped her, pushed her back against the bed with a hiss.
"Stop that," he said, more sharply.
She closed her eyes, nodding as much as she could without straining herself. "How long have you lived here?" Perhaps that was a question he would answer.
They were out of doors by the time he did. "Less than a month," he said, and his voice was more subdued now. Strange how attentive she was to his moods, or perhaps that was simply a response to being his captive again. "Long enough to have some room to breathe."
Teyla was fairly sure she wasn't supposed to have heard that part.
It was harder going on the soft earth, but he went slower, and kept her as still as possible. "How did you find us? You must have been nearby..." although the crash or at least the preceding magnetic surge would have wiped out all records of where they had been. And then it occurred to her that the rescuing Jumper would be able to record exactly where they landed.
Hopefully that magnetic surge was a one-time thing.
He still wasn't answering, and she didn't press. There were a number of questions she wanted to ask him, and even more answers she was afraid of getting. And now she could see the Jumper ahead, and she wasn't sure what to say.
No. She did know one thing to say. "And what have you done with your army?" Her voice might have been just a little more bitter and angry than it should have been. At least, if she wanted an honest response. Or a response at all.
"They have been destroyed." He said it quietly, with no discernible emotion. She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him. "You will be safe here, at least for as long as it takes them to arrive. I've activated the Jumper's distress beacon."
"How will...?"
"Be quiet." He told her, enforcing it with another injection that silenced any more questions more surely than his words would have. And which was an answer in and of itself, although to which question and what kind of answer she wasn't sure.
"Hello?" Restrained was one thing, but tucked into bed implied that it was for her own good, and given the white hot jagged edge of pain that pressed against her chest and she tried to struggle against the restraints, she was inclined to both believe that her unseen captor at her best interests at heart and to agree with him. A broken collarbone, a broken rib, something.
In bits and pieces, her memory of the last few hours returned. Or at least, what she thought with the last few hours. The shuttle's survey team with two scientists and another Athosian, a magnetic anomaly that had disabled the Jumper's systems, the impending crash. The pilot warning them to brace themselves for impact. Darkness.
Suddenly it became imperative that she get out of bed. "Hello?" she called, a little more urgently. "Is anyone there?"
There was someone there. She knew someone was there, she heard the person's footsteps approaching her. But she didn't see who it was, not when they came up behind her and injected her with a sedative. In minutes she was unconscious again.
Awake again. In less pain, this time, although whether that was due to pain killers or to the natural healing process, she didn't know. She still didn't see anyone, but her unseen benefactor had given her a new perspective on the room. She was raised up a little more now, and could see around her.
More than that, she could see a bed with the sheets still wrinkled, as though someone had been lying in it recently. There was some medical equipment next to it, all of it disconnected and folded neatly into a position that indicated it was not expected to be needed at any time soon. Perhaps she had not been the only survivor, but simply the only one to survive so long.
Teyla tried to move her fingers, and was more than a little relieved to find that she could. She might not have been able to undo the restraints, but she could at least feel and move all of her limbs.
"I am in less pain now," she said, a little louder so that if anyone else was in the room they might hear her. "I am healing, thanks to you."
No answer. Perhaps they simply weren't there.
Rapidly, she began to realize why Sheppard and McKay could be such poor patients. It was incredibly boring being strapped to a bed for hours on end. It was enough to make anyone wary of prolonged medical treatment.
"I would like to thank you," she tried again, after what felt like hours and hours. "And I am curious as to the fate of my companions, although I suppose you would have communicated to me in some way if they had survived as well." Or perhaps that was overdoing it.
Still silence. It was getting wearying, and she was a little afraid of the echo of her voice. The longer the silence went on, the more strange possibilities had time to work their way into her mind. The Genii? The Replicators?
"I hoped you did intend to feed me," she said finally, before the needle came again and she was unconscious.
This time when she awoke, her restraints were somewhat more unusual and inspired.
One hand was free, the other still tethered to the bed. She could sit up, a very little bit, but enough to bring her head vertical and her shoulders as well, just a bit. It seemed as though the whole contraption had been jury rigged from bandages, ties, and medical tape of some kind. There was also a tray in front of her, and a bowl of soup. One of the MREs of which Dr. McKay was so fond.
There was a flash of familiarity there, that was dismissed out of hand as being ridiculous. But she did note that whoever her caretaker was, they seemed to have made good use of the Jumper's supplies.
She ate carefully, mindful that it was still hot (and what did it say about how recently her captor/caretaker had been there?) And that she would quite likely not be able to eat very much in the way of solid food for now. When the bowl was nearly empty she pushed it a little ways out in front of her, settled back into the bed, and closed her eyes.
Meditation was good for many things, and this was not the first time she had tried this trick. Whoever her captor was, they were most likely watching her to make sure she didn't choke on her food, and to see when she had finished. If she fell asleep voluntarily it might make them more inclined to come out and take the bowl away, giving her her first good look at the person.
As skilled as she was at keeping her body relaxed and her face composed, her eyes just opened far enough to be able to see beneath the lashes, it wasn't enough to silence the telling beep of the monitor as her pulse jumped.
He stopped, not much more than halfway into the room but close enough to be well-lit and very recognizable. "You might as well open your eyes, Teyla. I know that you're awake."
"Michael." She opened her eyes, not bothering to conceal the shock and astonishment on her face. "What have you done with the others?"
The words were out before she could give them consideration, and yet even if she had she didn't know if it would have made a difference. His face twisted a little, and his stride as he moved up closer to her to take the bowl away was angry. He didn't say anything.
"Michael." She tried to catch his arm with her free hand, but he stepped out of the way more quickly than she could move. "I did not mean it that way. We crashed, you have..." she didn't know what to call it. "You have saved my life, but are any of the others still alive?"
He was quiet for a moment, standing there with bowl in hand. "The pilot was dead on impact," he said finally. "The two scientists shortly thereafter. The third lived for another two days."
She wanted, a little bit, to ask if he had gotten hungry. Perhaps she had been hanging around with Sheppard a little too much. "Thank you."
Michael gave her a startled look, as though he hadn't expected her to thank him. He might not have expected anything of her at all. She hadn't been terribly sure, herself. The last time they had both been in this position he had been in the process of feeding her to an Iratus bug.
Which reminded her of a question she might want to ask. "What are your intentions?"
He took the bowl over to what appeared to be a tray of dirty things, wheeling it over to the door before he answered her.
"Your friends are already looking for you. It would not be safe for me or for them for me to keep you here. I have already moved the bodies of your friends to the crash site, and since you seem to be stable I will move you there as well. And I will trust," he added, with particular emphasis on that so very dangerous word. "I will trust that you will not tell them about me."
He left before she could answer, which was all right, since she didn't know how she would answer anyway. It was hard for her to imagine that he would believe that they would believe what happened, that ridiculous story about a crash with no survivors but her when she had so obviously had medical attention. She asked him as much, when he came back to undo her restraints.
"How can you believe that they will not have questions for me, how did I survive, who aided me?"
Michael snorted. "They will be so grateful to have you back and alive that they will not ask questions they do not want to know the answers to. They won't want to think about what might have happened."
"That is..." insightful, was what that was. She hadn't expected that kind of insight from him. But why not? He had been insightful about every other point of interaction between them. "You may be right."
He didn't say anything. He also didn't help her off the bed, and started to push it just as she tried to get off, herself. "Don't..."
Her legs crumpled down to the ground, weak and failing her. She hit the floor in a heap of limbs and a position that would've been painful even if she hadn't been injured, crying out with the shock and pain of it.
Instantly he was kneeling down beside her, one arm around her shoulders and one hand carefully wrapped around her upper arm, helping her uncurled her wounded torso. "That was stupid," he all but snarled.
"So I see," she said, strained but trying to put a rueful smile on her face. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe, hurt to move, and her world swam before her eyes in waiting patterns and little red dots of light. Seemingly without effort, he scooped her up in his arms and laid her very carefully out on the bed again.
"Do I need to tell you not to move again?"
"No," she whispered, deciding not to waste more breath on louder speech. "Thank you, again."
He gave her what she thought was an odd and slightly puzzled look, before wheeling her out of the room and down the corridor. Whatever this complex was, outside of that medical room it looked very worn down. The walls and ceilings seem to be eaten away with moss, and she wondered a little whether or not he was worried about the ceiling collapsing in on them. Probably not.
It only occurred to her then that he must have been living here at least for some time, on the planet, with them. "Did you follow us here?" she asked, trying to understand. "How did you find us?"
He didn't answer. Decaying and broken hallway gave way to a place that looked at least a little more lived in, fixed up. She craned her neck around to look at her surroundings, to try and get an idea of where this place was that he lived and how long he had lived here. Again, the pain stopped her, pushed her back against the bed with a hiss.
"Stop that," he said, more sharply.
She closed her eyes, nodding as much as she could without straining herself. "How long have you lived here?" Perhaps that was a question he would answer.
They were out of doors by the time he did. "Less than a month," he said, and his voice was more subdued now. Strange how attentive she was to his moods, or perhaps that was simply a response to being his captive again. "Long enough to have some room to breathe."
Teyla was fairly sure she wasn't supposed to have heard that part.
It was harder going on the soft earth, but he went slower, and kept her as still as possible. "How did you find us? You must have been nearby..." although the crash or at least the preceding magnetic surge would have wiped out all records of where they had been. And then it occurred to her that the rescuing Jumper would be able to record exactly where they landed.
Hopefully that magnetic surge was a one-time thing.
He still wasn't answering, and she didn't press. There were a number of questions she wanted to ask him, and even more answers she was afraid of getting. And now she could see the Jumper ahead, and she wasn't sure what to say.
No. She did know one thing to say. "And what have you done with your army?" Her voice might have been just a little more bitter and angry than it should have been. At least, if she wanted an honest response. Or a response at all.
"They have been destroyed." He said it quietly, with no discernible emotion. She wasn't sure whether or not to believe him. "You will be safe here, at least for as long as it takes them to arrive. I've activated the Jumper's distress beacon."
"How will...?"
"Be quiet." He told her, enforcing it with another injection that silenced any more questions more surely than his words would have. And which was an answer in and of itself, although to which question and what kind of answer she wasn't sure.