[nano] Stained Glass Masquerade
Nov. 11th, 2007 06:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeHe had a stash of MREs. She didn't ask where he had gotten them from. There were too many to be from the Jumper, if it had even had a store of food against some sort of emergency. She thought it had, but there were still too many of those packets, piled up almost to the ceiling in one corner of what seemed to have been a kitchen.
Not that he would have any use for a kitchen. Hyper-aware of their fragile truce, she did not ask how he was surviving.
"There's a kind of symmetry at work, here," he said, with a tiny smile. "From the way I remember your expression it's not what you would prefer to eat, but…"
"It is better than what I brought," she admitted. Trail rations and she had hoped to do some hunting or foraging, but hot meals with some regularity had been beyond what she had counted as a reasonable expectation. "Thank you."
She ate. He watched her while she ate, not intrusive or intently, as if simply enjoying the sight of her. Enjoying her presence, someone else he could talk to and share … time with. Share time with, not anything else. What parts of his life would he want to share with her, anyway? Teyla shook her head and found Michael looking at her with a question in the tilt of his head.
"I do not know what to talk about." She took another couple of bites and pushed it aside. She had almost meant to say she didn't know what she was doing here, but didn't want him to hear that.
That actually brought a little chuckle. Strange to hear him laugh; the last time she had heard that sound had been… long ago, or at least it seemed so. The brief alliance with the Wraith.
It had sounded, now that she thought of it, a little like it had when he had been human. And thinking of that made her shiver, look down into the soup and set her spoon carefully down, pushing it away.
"Something wrong?" His voice was neutral. Impossible to tell whether he was offended or concerned or whatever emotions may have been there.
Teyla shook her head. "Nothing… wrong. I was thinking…" She brought herself to look up at him again. "I was realizing how little I know about you. The longest time we have spent together was when you believed you were human, one of the Atlantis team."
It still seemed to upset him, almost automatically. But his expression smoothed out after a moment as he made a visible effort to calm down. "You were never interested in me as I am, before," he said after a moment. "You gave me a choice, death, or the death of all that I am. You never asked. Not," he added. "As careful as you were when I was human."
This wasn't going to go over well, but she felt she had to at least put it out there. "I was comparing the way you sound, your voice, now, to what I remembered of when you were human. I have never heard you so at ease as I did when you were human… it seemed odd, to me."
"Because being human is so much better than being a Wraith?" The bitterness was back again.
"That is not what I meant," she told him, reproving and guilty all at once. "Because you are still… you. I had expected you to be different as Wraith than you were as human. I had expected …"
"A monster? A creature ruled entirely by the instinct to feed and kill?" Michael raised a brow, but she hurried on.
"Perhaps humans and Wraith could find a way to co-exist peacefully. There is a part of us in you, there is a part of you in at least some of us…"
He shook his head. "Neither of our people would agree to so much as entertain the idea. The Wraith are not in the habit of making deals with their food. Predator and prey cannot co-exist, Teyla…" His voice softened, his shoulders relaxed. "You engineered an alliance, and I admire that you tried. But you engineered an alliance based on good faith provided by me, faith that was misplaced."
"Michael…"
"Your people relied upon my good faith, and I relied upon the good faith of my people who, now, because of what you have done to me, see me as unclean. Less than …" Something. Whatever it was he meant to say he didn't finish, and looked down at the table between them.
Teyla moved around it and put her hand on her arm, confusion dissipating. The words might not have been there but the concept seemed to have been clarified for her. Not human, nor Wraith, she couldn't quite tell which he was anymore for her, but he was still Michael. Or whatever his name had been before they had turned him into something else.
"You are not less than," she told him, although she wasn't sure how much that would mean, coming from her. "You are a survivor. You are…"
If it had been McKay she would have reminded him of all the discoveries he had made, all the times he had pulled them out of danger at the last minute. If it had been Sheppard she would have reminded him of the same, but she didn't know what to tell Michael. Commending him for the experiment with the Super-Wraith, as Sheppard and the others called them, would have rang false and sounded forced. And she didn't know what else to say.
So. Perhaps it was time to change that.
"Tell me?" She took a step back, her hand sliding down his arm and curling her fingers around his, just a little. It still felt awkward. Slightly wrong, and just a bit nerve-wracking. But her eyes never left his, and she did not want to make things any worse than they were. "Tell me about yourself. Please."
He followed. After a moment of looking at her in something that seemed almost like shock, he led the way to a small lounge or sitting room of some kind. Gently, he freed his hand from hers, although whether for her comfort or for his she couldn't tell. They sat at almost the same time, a little stiff, but leaning towards each other.
"What do you want to know?" he asked finally, and his voice sounded strange.
"Whatever you want to tell me."
His eyes dropped to the floor. After a long moment of thought he took a breath, chest heaving as though it were labored or difficult, and began.
Not that he would have any use for a kitchen. Hyper-aware of their fragile truce, she did not ask how he was surviving.
"There's a kind of symmetry at work, here," he said, with a tiny smile. "From the way I remember your expression it's not what you would prefer to eat, but…"
"It is better than what I brought," she admitted. Trail rations and she had hoped to do some hunting or foraging, but hot meals with some regularity had been beyond what she had counted as a reasonable expectation. "Thank you."
She ate. He watched her while she ate, not intrusive or intently, as if simply enjoying the sight of her. Enjoying her presence, someone else he could talk to and share … time with. Share time with, not anything else. What parts of his life would he want to share with her, anyway? Teyla shook her head and found Michael looking at her with a question in the tilt of his head.
"I do not know what to talk about." She took another couple of bites and pushed it aside. She had almost meant to say she didn't know what she was doing here, but didn't want him to hear that.
That actually brought a little chuckle. Strange to hear him laugh; the last time she had heard that sound had been… long ago, or at least it seemed so. The brief alliance with the Wraith.
It had sounded, now that she thought of it, a little like it had when he had been human. And thinking of that made her shiver, look down into the soup and set her spoon carefully down, pushing it away.
"Something wrong?" His voice was neutral. Impossible to tell whether he was offended or concerned or whatever emotions may have been there.
Teyla shook her head. "Nothing… wrong. I was thinking…" She brought herself to look up at him again. "I was realizing how little I know about you. The longest time we have spent together was when you believed you were human, one of the Atlantis team."
It still seemed to upset him, almost automatically. But his expression smoothed out after a moment as he made a visible effort to calm down. "You were never interested in me as I am, before," he said after a moment. "You gave me a choice, death, or the death of all that I am. You never asked. Not," he added. "As careful as you were when I was human."
This wasn't going to go over well, but she felt she had to at least put it out there. "I was comparing the way you sound, your voice, now, to what I remembered of when you were human. I have never heard you so at ease as I did when you were human… it seemed odd, to me."
"Because being human is so much better than being a Wraith?" The bitterness was back again.
"That is not what I meant," she told him, reproving and guilty all at once. "Because you are still… you. I had expected you to be different as Wraith than you were as human. I had expected …"
"A monster? A creature ruled entirely by the instinct to feed and kill?" Michael raised a brow, but she hurried on.
"Perhaps humans and Wraith could find a way to co-exist peacefully. There is a part of us in you, there is a part of you in at least some of us…"
He shook his head. "Neither of our people would agree to so much as entertain the idea. The Wraith are not in the habit of making deals with their food. Predator and prey cannot co-exist, Teyla…" His voice softened, his shoulders relaxed. "You engineered an alliance, and I admire that you tried. But you engineered an alliance based on good faith provided by me, faith that was misplaced."
"Michael…"
"Your people relied upon my good faith, and I relied upon the good faith of my people who, now, because of what you have done to me, see me as unclean. Less than …" Something. Whatever it was he meant to say he didn't finish, and looked down at the table between them.
Teyla moved around it and put her hand on her arm, confusion dissipating. The words might not have been there but the concept seemed to have been clarified for her. Not human, nor Wraith, she couldn't quite tell which he was anymore for her, but he was still Michael. Or whatever his name had been before they had turned him into something else.
"You are not less than," she told him, although she wasn't sure how much that would mean, coming from her. "You are a survivor. You are…"
If it had been McKay she would have reminded him of all the discoveries he had made, all the times he had pulled them out of danger at the last minute. If it had been Sheppard she would have reminded him of the same, but she didn't know what to tell Michael. Commending him for the experiment with the Super-Wraith, as Sheppard and the others called them, would have rang false and sounded forced. And she didn't know what else to say.
So. Perhaps it was time to change that.
"Tell me?" She took a step back, her hand sliding down his arm and curling her fingers around his, just a little. It still felt awkward. Slightly wrong, and just a bit nerve-wracking. But her eyes never left his, and she did not want to make things any worse than they were. "Tell me about yourself. Please."
He followed. After a moment of looking at her in something that seemed almost like shock, he led the way to a small lounge or sitting room of some kind. Gently, he freed his hand from hers, although whether for her comfort or for his she couldn't tell. They sat at almost the same time, a little stiff, but leaning towards each other.
"What do you want to know?" he asked finally, and his voice sounded strange.
"Whatever you want to tell me."
His eyes dropped to the floor. After a long moment of thought he took a breath, chest heaving as though it were labored or difficult, and began.