kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
John gave them several more minutes before finally knocking on the door and coming out to the rear of the Jumper. It took Teyla a little longer to blink and come out of it, and he wasn't sure why.

"All right, let's go do this." Not that he was happy about it, especially not with Teyla looking around as though just waking up for the first time. If Michael had brainwashed her somehow he was going to nail that Wraith to the roof of his Jumper and give him a little trip through the planet's atmosphere. "Michael's with me, Teyla… just. Stay here, okay? Probably the best way to keep you from touching anything."

Teyla nodded. "And what about you?"

"I'll be all right. There are things Mikey and I need to talk about." He found himself smiling ironically at the Wraith, who seemed to know exactly what he meant. Not that John intended to hurt him at all, just threaten him a little. Maybe a little less. Teyla seemed fine now, although still pretty unhappy.

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"You want to what?"

Teyla had taken a few hours to come up with convincing arguments just for this purpose. At least they were doing this in her quarters; Rodney wasn't likely to notice and if Ronon passed and heard them arguing at top volume he would assume what he had been assuming the whole time. Never mind that it was no longer true, and…

But she wasn't going to think about that. Not now.

"I want to consult our foremost expert on Wraith tactics and behavior," she rephrased, and made it pointed, although without glaring. "Michael did not do this. He did not bring this Wraith ship here, he has nothing to do with whatever it is they are searching for. And I want to ask him what he believes is happening."

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
[*kills Semagic Dead*]

It was a miracle that she was able to get away to see him, even for only a day and a half. Sheppard wanted her to interrogate Michael on the subject of any and all experiments which might require live human subjects, although he didn't use that word. His meaning was clear, and his desperation was certainly shared by Teyla herself. But talking to Michael for even five minutes convinced her that he knew nothing outside of what he himself had been attempting to do. And they both shied away from that topic as soon as they could.

His fingers combed through her hair with frantic precision; she almost thought he was trembling. "I said you would make a formidable Queen," he murmured, but only to make light of what had happened, and to put some separation between them. Their emotions were both too jumbled.

"We will not be able to meet like this for very much longer, or at least, not as often…" She trailed off. It hadn't been often at all, it had been… she didn't know what it had been. Sporadic. A series of stolen moments, something that she had come to crave and treasure in a way that made her head spin to think about it too long.

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It was getting harder and harder to see him, regularly. There was the fear of discovery by the Wraith, the problem of the Replicators, the Wraith and the Replicators making war against each other and human settlements on all worlds getting caught in the cross-fire. Teyla never questioned whether they had done the right thing by re-activating that portion of the Replicator base code or not, but there were times when she wondered whether there was any good outcome to be gained from any of this, for any of them.

She gave Michael what news she could of what was going on in the galaxy outside and, true to her promise, helped him try to find a more permanent solution to his needs. It was Ellia all over again, she thought. Except perhaps the retrovirus had made it possible for Michael's dietary need to be changed more easily? Without changing the whole of him, all that made him Michael? She was conscious of it, every time she watched him work at the lab equipment they had borrowed or plundered. What he had said when confronted with the option of retrovirus or death. The death of self had disturbed him more than the death of his body. Not exactly a position she wanted to disagree with.

Teyla was finding it harder and harder to hide such sentiments. Finding it harder and harder to hide the changes that she was noticing within herself. Not the least of which her skill with her gift, which was growing by leaps and bounds.

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After the third time or so they didn't bother hiding it entirely. Sheppard had known there was something to be jealous of long before he had known what it was, and while she sensed that Michael wanted to pay the other man back for what he saw as tempting him with things he wanted that he could never have, he respected her enough to refrain while Sheppard was watching.

Which didn't mean they did not touch, did not sink into each other's embrace with the sigh of relief and welcome. She was, at least for the moment, the only one who accepted him. She was his family, his Hive, his Queen, even (though neither of them so much as thought the shadow of the word) his beloved. His human, as he was her Wraith, or so they thought in terms of wry amusement. He didn't mind being her pet Wraith, it was one more way in which the people on Atlantis would never understand them, one more way to bind them closer together.

She, though, did not want them to be bound closer together by excluding her friends and adopted family. He was her comfort, her teacher, her friend and companion, and, yes, her lover. In time, she hoped more would come to know and accept what they had.

As they had accepted him the first two times? As they accepted her Wraith heritage, brought up only when it was useful and the rest of the time ignored?

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Thoughts like that, Teyla supposed, were why coming back to Atlantis didn't feel so much like home. Sheppard was still uncharacteristically quiet, his hands tense and tight on the controls as he flew them back. At least this time she knew why, and he knew what was happening, and there was no deceit between them. Only sharp and uncomfortable silences. Well, she supposed, that was better than the alternative. Maybe.


"I don't want to talk about it."

Of course he didn't. She looked back out at the view ahead of them, exasperated. Spending time with Michael was looking to be more and more like a holiday and less like a … whatever it had been when she'd started. A very bad idea.

"Are you…"

"Teyla, I am not fine with what you're doing. I'm definitely not fine with what you're doing, but if you've been sneaking out to see him for the past… god knows how long…"

That stung. She wondered if he had meant it to.

"And he hasn't done anything so far, given what he said the last time I ran into him, I'm willing to take your word that he's not a security risk."

Which meant he wouldn't tell Carter, or Ronon, or anyone else he didn't absolutely need to. Teyla slumped a tiny bit in relief.

"Thank you, John."

He shook his head, muttering. "Don't thank me."

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
[A/N: If Michael really is Teyla's baby's father I will laugh my shapely ass off.]

She didn't want to leave. It had been such a short time since Sheppard had flown her back out to him and it already seemed too short a span of days. Which was odd, Michael reminded her with a wry smile, when considering how apprehensive she had been at first.

They had come to know each other so very much more in that short span of days, was her reply. And was that so hard to believe?

Not really. They were alike in the strangest ways, both of them the unwilling subject of experiments that altered their very genetic makeup, stranding them with one foot in a world not their own. Her Wraith DNA, his human, and both of them were freaks even among their own people. Although, to be sure, her people welcomed her more than his ever had. It no longer bothered him to talk about it, covering the well-trod conversational ground with a weary acceptance.

Easier to accept, perhaps, with her there. With her there, he wasn't so alone.

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
Walking through a Wraith ship was no longer a nightmare sensation that reduced her to a child again, quivering and fearful. Michael's memories turned it into something like home, although underneath there was still the awareness that they were the enemy, that she was food. From him, the awareness that was sad and lingering, that this was no longer home and never could be again. The images were blurry and drifted as he took her on a tour of his Hive ship, information now three years old or so. Not for the sake of intelligence or even learning more about Wraith culture, but simply sharing.

They sat crosslegged across from each other, hands clasped around each other's hands and foreheads touching. A part of her culture and a part of his, sharing memories. It seemed oddly natural to share memories. To trade experiences back and forth, her learning how to fight at the bantos, his learning hand to hand combat as a young child tusseling with other children.

[What is this?]

They asked it, over and over again, focusing on one particular memory that was incomprehensible or incoherent to them, until they weren't even saying it mind to mind anymore but conveying a sense of query.

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It was strange. His presence in her mind, alien and yet somehow not so at the same time. It was akin to having a teacher's hands over hers as she practiced at the bantos sticks, or someone looking over her shoulder while she deciphered some text. He guided her, showed her where to go, but did not push her in any one direction and he was an amazingly good teacher.

[I am beginning to see …] But she couldn't think of a way to end that sentence. And if they had been speaking aloud that would have been where it ended, before a completing thought.

In mind to mind contact he saw at least the shape of her intent of the rest of it, and she understood that he saw, and that too was very strange. He saw that she was understanding some of what he must have lost, leaving a world that communicated entirely on a different level than the humans, being lied to by another Wraith community.

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Sheppard insisted on being there when they met. She could understand the need for security, for him to make sure she was safe and Atlantis was safe, but Teyla was not all that happy about the thought of Michael's response. Neither of them liked or trusted each other. Both of them could very quickly turn this into a deadly, brief meeting.

He landed the jumper a little ways outside of the magnetic field and somehow she was able to persuade him to walk a little behind her; she still wasn't sure how she had managed that. Maybe simply the idea of all of them dying in a blaze of crossfire. Maybe she was giving him too little credit for trusting her and trusting her judgment. Which was more likely, she admitted finally to herself.

"I'll be right back," she told him, lightly touching his arm to keep him where he was. It seemed to work; he gave a curt nod and stayed back.

As long as it worked so well on Michael.

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
I, er. Totally forgot to finish posting this towards the end of Nano and the chaos that has swallowed my life these past few days. I shall endeavor to finish posting it over the course of the week! So I dont' overwhelm everyone by twelve posts of large chunks of story at once.

Teyla did make it to the botanist's camp before nightfall, although it was a near thing. Major Lorne had a talk with her about security, wandering off, and all that sort of thing until she reminded him that she was a grown woman who could look after herself, and who had indeed been doing so since before the Atlantis team had shown up. Chastened, he smiled and reminded her that they worried about her, and left her to find her dinner from among the limited recipes of MREs.

It was, at least, a little more palatable with the supplements of some nuts and plants she had found. She hadn't had time to dry anything, not with all the walking she had done, but she had gathered what she could on the way back. There was a plant that was usually crushed for sweet breath or sweetening the medicines they sometimes used which Katie Brown proclaimed to be like mint "only spicier," and there were a number of nuts with flavors ranging from sweet to tart. It cheered up an otherwise bland meal, and she received a number of compliments on her gathering skills, if not her cooking.

That, she had left up to one of the botanists, a Dr. Irrizary, with a wry smile and a deprecating remark about her cooking skills. Food poisoning, yes, was a way to liven up the meal, but not quite what she had intended.

She was sitting at the center of the tents, turning her knife over and over in her hands when Katie Brown walked up. Watching the light distort her reflection on the metal, absorbed in her thoughts to the point that she didn't notice the young woman cough politely, not until she put her hand on Teyla's shoulder.

"Oh! I'm sorry…" Katie was now two steps back and a little wide-eyed. Teyla put the knife away, sheepish.

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She was hitting harder than she meant to, but because it was Ronon it was hard to tell. He threw her a questioning glance when he should have been watching his own defense and she cracked him a good solid hit to the ribs, dropping him to his knees.

"I am sorry," she apologized, with a rueful little smile and a hand extended to help him up, which he accepted. "I have been… out of sorts, today, apparently."

"I noticed," Ronon chuckled, not wincing in the slightest although she couldn't tell whether that was from bravado or because he legitimately had worse. "Something on your mind?"

"Well… yes, actually." But she was hesitant to admit it, and tried to shrug it off. "Did you want to go again, or…"

"Something dark-haired and handsome with a tendency to get into trouble?"

Teyla flushed. "Well." Um.

"Thought so."

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There were two missions after that. They didn't talk outside of what was necessary for the mission, at least until Ronon suggested that they have sex and get it over with. Not quite in those words, perhaps, but the implication was there. After that Sheppard seemed to relax, and Teyla took a breath and kept up her side of whatever light conversation they were having at the time.

Afterwards, though, on the balcony outside of the offices, she found him leaning against the railing and staring out at the water.

"John…" she came up next to him, and felt it stabbing at her inside when he flinched away.


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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
The loneliness eased for both of them after that day, although neither of them changed their pattern of behavior. They still moved, each around the other, as though the peace between them would shatter if they stepped wrong. They still argued when the conversation strayed into an uncomfortable topic.

"I did not want to lie to you," she insisted, trying to make him believe. "Not all of us thought the experiment would be a good idea."

"But you went through with it anyway, made up everything, created this comforting cushion of a lie around me even though you knew you had no intention of letting it last."

She wasn't sure how to answer that. "We were hoping that by the time you were ready to hear…"

"You mean by the time you were ready to tell me," he interrupted, snarling.

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
He liked to spend time out of doors, Teyla realized. Even if most of it was looking up at the sky as though it would welcome him back again. Welcome him home, she thought. Three days spent in his company and although they had talked, mostly about her and life on Atlantis, there was a feeling of immense loneliness about him that never quite went away.

He didn't seem willing to talk about it, though, and she wasn't going to force the issue. Instead she talked around it, finding little things that she hoped would alleviate it, if only so that it would be less of a pressure on her mind. There were no more nightmares. She wasn't even sure he slept at night, but in the very late hours of the evening when she was lying there trying to go to sleep she was so lonely and so empty she wanted to cry, and she knew it had to come from outside of her. And there was no one else but Michael.

Little things. It started with the little things.

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
Two things she noted that she would never have thought of, and wasn't sure she had wanted to know. Three things. Firstly, that Wraith needed to sleep on any sort of similar schedule to humans, although that might have simply been the human part of Michael asserting itself more aggressively after the retrovirus. Secondly, that Wraith could have nightmares at all, although again, that might simply have been his unique state.

Thirdly, that being so near to a telepathic shriek could hurt so very much.

She tried to shake him awake again. There was very little thrashing and flailing, although his mouth was open in a soundless, wordless scream. Inside his mind, at least as much as she got through the waves of terror and grief crashing through her, it was certainly worth screaming over. There was loneliness. There was fear, the known turning against him and becoming threatening and vicious. Betrayal, and heartache, and she was reminded of the entity that had taken the form of Sheppard and wreaked so much havoc on Atlantis.

Which, in turn, reminded her of the solution. Or a solution, a possible solution and perhaps it would at least enable her to get some sleep that night. She focused on the selfish part to avoid thinking about other possible motives and other feelings.

"I wish…" she started, but didn't know how she would finish the sentence.

No need for special equipment here; she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be sucked into his nightmares.

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
The first night Teyla was out there all Sheppard could think of was that she was out there on her own, in the middle of a jungle where something had clearly happened to her. Something that had upset her, enough to go back out there and try and confront whatever it was. Which, in turn, upset him. Which kept him awake at night and found him wandering through the halls looking for a distraction.

Ronon was a distraction. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah," Sheppard's mouth twisted in one of his grins that wasn't quite a grin. "Thought I'd try and walk it off."

"You and Teyla have a fight or something?"

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
He 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."

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kittydesade: (fandom - sga)
[spoilers for up to 4x7 Missing]

Not the same underground complex he had brought her to the first time, but one close to it. A little further from the crash site, a little more well-maintained. She looked around, memorizing the way there. Fixing in her mind a way back, should she need to find her way out of here on her own. Although she didn't think Michael would do that, not this time. Not to her.

There were no laboratories here, or at least if there were he wasn't taking her past any of them. There wasn't much of anything. There were rooms, store-rooms, what looked like a bedroom that had been fixed up out of an office, what looked as though it had at one time been a conference or gathering room of some kind. No dining room, which she noted as strange at first and then realized why. And tried not to think about that.

He took her to what seemed to be a greenhouse extending from a cave at the other end of the small underground complex. She wasn't sure why. A compromise, perhaps? Perhaps as far from the place where he was living as they could get and still be in the same general area. Perhaps it had some significance she did not yet know of, she didn't know. She wanted to know. Nerves made her edgy inside, although she was managing quite well at keeping herself still and calm on the outside.

"You wanted to talk," he said, not looking at her, sitting on a stone bench. "What did you have to say?"

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