[nano] Stained Glass Masquerade
Nov. 9th, 2007 09:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeThey stopped just outside of the coordinates of the first known encounter with the magnetic field, setting down in a clearing in the woods. Teyla picked up her pack without a word, moving slowly as she went towards the Jumper bay doors, but still moving.
"Hey…" John was leaning against the inner hull, frowning, some sort of expression on his face that suggested nervousness but that she still couldn't entirely read. "Are you sure you'll be all right for a week out there?"
Out there with Michael. That was the tricky part; she had spent longer days than simply a week in the woods by herself with little ill effect. But Michael was unpredictable and she still didn't know how he felt towards her. He hadn't killed her or fed on her when he could have, though, and that was something.
"I will be fine," she assured him, smiling. And then: "I need to do this, John."
"All right. Gimme a call if you need me."
The flaw in this plan, she realized, was that she was heading off into the woods with no real idea of where she was going. She knew where the crash site was from here, and would make her good-byes when she got there, but after that she had less than any sort of idea where to go. Where Michael's base was, if she had ever even been there, or what direction to take. She was not the tracker Ronon was, and though she would try, she had to wonder if she would find any sign of Michael.
Not, she reminded herself, if she didn't get moving. She cast one look over her shoulder; Sheppard was still standing in the Jumper doorway, watching her. Teyla looked down, then squared her shoulders and moved on.
There was no one at the crash site. No bodies. The jungle or forest had already started to reclaim the wreckage in the time it had taken for her to heal from her injuries. She didn't remember the last few minutes of the flight, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she didn't want to remember. The part she wanted to remember, the direction of approach on the gurney, was foggy as well.
Teyla backed out of the wreckage again and took her time walking around it. Surely there was some angle from which this crash site would be familiar. She had been awake when he had brought her here again. There had to be something.
There was, a little something. A flash of recognition, or… something.
She turned, heading straight back along the angle of approach that she thought she had discovered. As she walked, she focused herself. Her mind. Could she remember what it had felt like the last time? She had sensed him, not quite a Wraith, the last time. Second to last time.
"Michael," she muttered, slipping through the trees. "Where are you."
Nothing.
Teyla closed her eyes and leaned up against a tree after nearly two hours of walking, breathing slow, frustrated. This was pointless. She didn't know how far away he was from the crash site, but the site he had brought her from hadn't been this far. Or, if this far, not much further. There was no point in exhausting herself like this until she was sure, and she had sensed him the last time they had met, at the Taranan's settlement.
Which brought up the uncomfortable question of how he was surviving. How he was feeding. "And then again," she told herself, mind racing, "The Queen survived under the water for thousands of years on the complement of an entire crew…"
There was no way of knowing. She closed her eyes and reached out the one way she could think of that was left to her, that did not involve wandering in the woods. "Michael…" she sighed. "Where are you."
It was slippery, and almost gone. He did not feel like a Wraith. He did not feel like anything she had experienced before. And there was something in the background, and she had never stretched so far or for so long, or to sense one specific person so acutely. Had never tried to use her gift in this way before. It was easier, after a moment, or perhaps closer.
"Michael, please."
"What do you want."
Her eyes flew open. From behind her, from… she whirled.
At least he was unarmed.
"Teyla. What do you want."
"I…" It was almost dark now. "May I join you?" Gesturing at the way he seemed to have come, and hoping it was the right direction.
His expression didn't exactly change, but she had the sense of incredulity and amusement. "For dinner? For conversation? There is nothing we have left to say to each other." And bitterness, from his tone. Deep bitterness but none of the anger she had gotten from him earlier. Strange, that.
"If I believed that were true," she said, and took a step towards him. "I would not have come out here to find you. Alone," she added, just in case he was looking for the ambush. Which he probably had been.
"Alone," he repeated, not quite believing it. "And Sheppard and your too-hasty friend allowed it?"
Ronon. Teyla shook her head. Ronon would never have let her come out here alone, let alone for an entire week, if he had known Michael was out here. "They do not know you are here. I did not tell them, they did not suspect…" Sheppard suspected something, but whatever it was he thought he knew, she wasn't sure.
"And how did you convince them to bring you out here, and leave you all alone for…"
"A week. I told them… It doesn't matter what I told them." She did not want to tell him, wasn't ready to share that part of herself with him. If she ever would be. If this went bad she would be calling Sheppard to come and pick her up a lot sooner.
"A week?" That startled him.
Teyla nodded, a little more at ease and sure of herself for having startled him. Or possibly simply now possessing the confidence of having gotten the upper hand, the surer conversational footing.
"You said, some time ago, that you did not believe that I would like to be your friend. But now I am here, and I would like to," her words slowed as she chose them more carefully. "Prove to you that it is no more or less than the truth." Very, very carefully.
He didn't say anything for long enough to make her nervous, and shift her stance just a bit. He looked angry, but that didn't mean he was, and it didn't mean he wasn't, and given how he had reacted every time they had argued over the necessity of what they did to each other… which gave her an idea.
"Every time we have encountered each other before it has been in a situation where we felt compelled to act. Here, now… unless there are other circumstances of which I am unaware… neither of us is compelled to do, or, or say any certain thing."
Michael nodded slightly, acknowledging that that was true. Which was a good thing, because she hadn't been certain that it was, on his part.
"Then …" She was rapidly losing the thread of what she wanted to say. "Could we not go somewhere, to talk? Please." There was really no other way to put it so simply.
And even with that, he stared at her for a long time before turning and heading off in another direction. She stayed where she was, uncertain as to whether or not she was supposed to follow. Too much history led to too much tension in the air between them. He might have just been saying no without …
"Are you coming?" Drifted back from the trees ahead.
Or, indeed, perhaps not. She followed, wondering where he was taking her, what she had gotten herself into this time.
"Hey…" John was leaning against the inner hull, frowning, some sort of expression on his face that suggested nervousness but that she still couldn't entirely read. "Are you sure you'll be all right for a week out there?"
Out there with Michael. That was the tricky part; she had spent longer days than simply a week in the woods by herself with little ill effect. But Michael was unpredictable and she still didn't know how he felt towards her. He hadn't killed her or fed on her when he could have, though, and that was something.
"I will be fine," she assured him, smiling. And then: "I need to do this, John."
"All right. Gimme a call if you need me."
The flaw in this plan, she realized, was that she was heading off into the woods with no real idea of where she was going. She knew where the crash site was from here, and would make her good-byes when she got there, but after that she had less than any sort of idea where to go. Where Michael's base was, if she had ever even been there, or what direction to take. She was not the tracker Ronon was, and though she would try, she had to wonder if she would find any sign of Michael.
Not, she reminded herself, if she didn't get moving. She cast one look over her shoulder; Sheppard was still standing in the Jumper doorway, watching her. Teyla looked down, then squared her shoulders and moved on.
There was no one at the crash site. No bodies. The jungle or forest had already started to reclaim the wreckage in the time it had taken for her to heal from her injuries. She didn't remember the last few minutes of the flight, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she didn't want to remember. The part she wanted to remember, the direction of approach on the gurney, was foggy as well.
Teyla backed out of the wreckage again and took her time walking around it. Surely there was some angle from which this crash site would be familiar. She had been awake when he had brought her here again. There had to be something.
There was, a little something. A flash of recognition, or… something.
She turned, heading straight back along the angle of approach that she thought she had discovered. As she walked, she focused herself. Her mind. Could she remember what it had felt like the last time? She had sensed him, not quite a Wraith, the last time. Second to last time.
"Michael," she muttered, slipping through the trees. "Where are you."
Nothing.
Teyla closed her eyes and leaned up against a tree after nearly two hours of walking, breathing slow, frustrated. This was pointless. She didn't know how far away he was from the crash site, but the site he had brought her from hadn't been this far. Or, if this far, not much further. There was no point in exhausting herself like this until she was sure, and she had sensed him the last time they had met, at the Taranan's settlement.
Which brought up the uncomfortable question of how he was surviving. How he was feeding. "And then again," she told herself, mind racing, "The Queen survived under the water for thousands of years on the complement of an entire crew…"
There was no way of knowing. She closed her eyes and reached out the one way she could think of that was left to her, that did not involve wandering in the woods. "Michael…" she sighed. "Where are you."
It was slippery, and almost gone. He did not feel like a Wraith. He did not feel like anything she had experienced before. And there was something in the background, and she had never stretched so far or for so long, or to sense one specific person so acutely. Had never tried to use her gift in this way before. It was easier, after a moment, or perhaps closer.
"Michael, please."
"What do you want."
Her eyes flew open. From behind her, from… she whirled.
At least he was unarmed.
"Teyla. What do you want."
"I…" It was almost dark now. "May I join you?" Gesturing at the way he seemed to have come, and hoping it was the right direction.
His expression didn't exactly change, but she had the sense of incredulity and amusement. "For dinner? For conversation? There is nothing we have left to say to each other." And bitterness, from his tone. Deep bitterness but none of the anger she had gotten from him earlier. Strange, that.
"If I believed that were true," she said, and took a step towards him. "I would not have come out here to find you. Alone," she added, just in case he was looking for the ambush. Which he probably had been.
"Alone," he repeated, not quite believing it. "And Sheppard and your too-hasty friend allowed it?"
Ronon. Teyla shook her head. Ronon would never have let her come out here alone, let alone for an entire week, if he had known Michael was out here. "They do not know you are here. I did not tell them, they did not suspect…" Sheppard suspected something, but whatever it was he thought he knew, she wasn't sure.
"And how did you convince them to bring you out here, and leave you all alone for…"
"A week. I told them… It doesn't matter what I told them." She did not want to tell him, wasn't ready to share that part of herself with him. If she ever would be. If this went bad she would be calling Sheppard to come and pick her up a lot sooner.
"A week?" That startled him.
Teyla nodded, a little more at ease and sure of herself for having startled him. Or possibly simply now possessing the confidence of having gotten the upper hand, the surer conversational footing.
"You said, some time ago, that you did not believe that I would like to be your friend. But now I am here, and I would like to," her words slowed as she chose them more carefully. "Prove to you that it is no more or less than the truth." Very, very carefully.
He didn't say anything for long enough to make her nervous, and shift her stance just a bit. He looked angry, but that didn't mean he was, and it didn't mean he wasn't, and given how he had reacted every time they had argued over the necessity of what they did to each other… which gave her an idea.
"Every time we have encountered each other before it has been in a situation where we felt compelled to act. Here, now… unless there are other circumstances of which I am unaware… neither of us is compelled to do, or, or say any certain thing."
Michael nodded slightly, acknowledging that that was true. Which was a good thing, because she hadn't been certain that it was, on his part.
"Then …" She was rapidly losing the thread of what she wanted to say. "Could we not go somewhere, to talk? Please." There was really no other way to put it so simply.
And even with that, he stared at her for a long time before turning and heading off in another direction. She stayed where she was, uncertain as to whether or not she was supposed to follow. Too much history led to too much tension in the air between them. He might have just been saying no without …
"Are you coming?" Drifted back from the trees ahead.
Or, indeed, perhaps not. She followed, wondering where he was taking her, what she had gotten herself into this time.