Fic: Only Human
(Because I've been neglecting this. All disclaimers and info here)
John had known Teyla was pissed when she broke formation to gape at Michael. He didn't blame her, even if she did put them at risk by dropping rear-guard duty to verbally spar with Michael. He never thought he'd ever see her lose so badly at a game she excelled at when John was on the receiving end of the Athosian's snarl. Then again, the arguments between himself and Teyla resembled lovers' spats far too much for his liking, anyway, but only because other people were noticing, and he hated his personal business being broadcast all over the place.
Still, for Teyla's sake, he had tried to make the trip as quickly as possible, to spare her further humiliation by being sandwiched between the new people. Teyla was now repaying him by using his backside to wipe the floor in the gym. He felt the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back for the...hell, he had lost count by this point.
"Still angry, I take it," he wheezed, peering up at her through the haze of pain.
The feral look twisting her features softened slightly as she came back to herself. She relaxed out of the tense battle-stance, panting heavily with the exertion of the previous fights. John noted she had yet to break a sweat, and that disturbed him. Usually by the time they hit the higher end of double-digits in how many times she knocked him down she was starting tire and a gleam of sweat creased her brow. There was a lot to be said for anger-fuelled adrenaline.
"I'm sorry, John," she replied, not really sounding the least bit contrite. "But his presence here on Atlantis bothers me."
"Which is why we have him in the brig."
"Perhaps that is the part that bothers me," she admitted. "But I cannot deny what he has done to us in the past -"
He gave her a tiny smile. "You mean what he's done to you in the past."
She gave him a look and decided to ignore the comment by continuing, "And I cannot reconcile my...compassion... with the sense of justice I feel at having him incarcerated."
John blinked. "You actually feel compassion for him, even after all you've been through?"
She scowled at that. "I do. You should know me by now, John. How many times have you known me to feel anything but compassion towards our enemies, with the exception of the Wraith?"
"Yeah, well, half-breed or not, he is a Wraith, Teyla."
She gave him a dirty look and spun around. "Practice is over," she said, gathering her things before stalking out of the gym.
He watched her go, not moving from the ground just yet. "What the hell did I say?" he called after her. He let his head hang back with a sigh. "Women. Wish you could just shoot'em."
"Where's the fun in that?" Ronon's amused drawl sounded from somewhere above him. John opened his eyes and stared up at his friend.
"It would be more for the satisfaction of winning an argument and not coming off as a complete ass."
"...And shooting them would help you not look like an ass, how?"
John narrowed his eyes. "Just help me up, will you?"
Ronon obliged, though the laughter in his eyes irritated John slightly. The colonel rubbed his back-side, wincing a bit.
"She get you good?"
"When doesn't she?"
"True." Ronon watched as John gingerly sat down on the bench and lean back, eyes closed. "You find out what's bothering her?"
John didn't bother opening his eyes as he replied, "Michael, who else? She's a little messed in the head where he's concerned."
"No kidding. She say anything else?"
"Just that she's conflicted and doesn't know whether to shoot him, or console him."
"Sounds like you."
John did open his eyes to peer at the Satedan. "I am not conflicted about Michael."
"I never said you were."
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing."
"...Right."
Ronon smirked. John sighed and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. "This is a bad idea, buddy. No good is going to come of it."
Ronon nodded. "I know."
John had known Teyla was pissed when she broke formation to gape at Michael. He didn't blame her, even if she did put them at risk by dropping rear-guard duty to verbally spar with Michael. He never thought he'd ever see her lose so badly at a game she excelled at when John was on the receiving end of the Athosian's snarl. Then again, the arguments between himself and Teyla resembled lovers' spats far too much for his liking, anyway, but only because other people were noticing, and he hated his personal business being broadcast all over the place.
Still, for Teyla's sake, he had tried to make the trip as quickly as possible, to spare her further humiliation by being sandwiched between the new people. Teyla was now repaying him by using his backside to wipe the floor in the gym. He felt the wind knocked out of him as he landed on his back for the...hell, he had lost count by this point.
"Still angry, I take it," he wheezed, peering up at her through the haze of pain.
The feral look twisting her features softened slightly as she came back to herself. She relaxed out of the tense battle-stance, panting heavily with the exertion of the previous fights. John noted she had yet to break a sweat, and that disturbed him. Usually by the time they hit the higher end of double-digits in how many times she knocked him down she was starting tire and a gleam of sweat creased her brow. There was a lot to be said for anger-fuelled adrenaline.
"I'm sorry, John," she replied, not really sounding the least bit contrite. "But his presence here on Atlantis bothers me."
"Which is why we have him in the brig."
"Perhaps that is the part that bothers me," she admitted. "But I cannot deny what he has done to us in the past -"
He gave her a tiny smile. "You mean what he's done to you in the past."
She gave him a look and decided to ignore the comment by continuing, "And I cannot reconcile my...compassion... with the sense of justice I feel at having him incarcerated."
John blinked. "You actually feel compassion for him, even after all you've been through?"
She scowled at that. "I do. You should know me by now, John. How many times have you known me to feel anything but compassion towards our enemies, with the exception of the Wraith?"
"Yeah, well, half-breed or not, he is a Wraith, Teyla."
She gave him a dirty look and spun around. "Practice is over," she said, gathering her things before stalking out of the gym.
He watched her go, not moving from the ground just yet. "What the hell did I say?" he called after her. He let his head hang back with a sigh. "Women. Wish you could just shoot'em."
"Where's the fun in that?" Ronon's amused drawl sounded from somewhere above him. John opened his eyes and stared up at his friend.
"It would be more for the satisfaction of winning an argument and not coming off as a complete ass."
"...And shooting them would help you not look like an ass, how?"
John narrowed his eyes. "Just help me up, will you?"
Ronon obliged, though the laughter in his eyes irritated John slightly. The colonel rubbed his back-side, wincing a bit.
"She get you good?"
"When doesn't she?"
"True." Ronon watched as John gingerly sat down on the bench and lean back, eyes closed. "You find out what's bothering her?"
John didn't bother opening his eyes as he replied, "Michael, who else? She's a little messed in the head where he's concerned."
"No kidding. She say anything else?"
"Just that she's conflicted and doesn't know whether to shoot him, or console him."
"Sounds like you."
John did open his eyes to peer at the Satedan. "I am not conflicted about Michael."
"I never said you were."
"What are you implying?"
"Nothing."
"...Right."
Ronon smirked. John sighed and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. "This is a bad idea, buddy. No good is going to come of it."
Ronon nodded. "I know."