Dreaming Wide Awake - Ch. 9
Title: Dreaming Wide Awake
Summary: Sequel to Frozen in Place. With her life coming to a painful and untimely end, Teyla stepped into the stasis pod, never expecting to open her eyes on the world again. Then, one day, she did.
Rating: T
Pairing: John Sheppard/Teyla Emmagan
Length: ~1,400 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis. Shame. For fun, not profit.
Comments: Thanks to those of you *coughjeyla4evercough* who kept on encouraging me to get back to this story, and to kickstand75 and nacinom who helped me to polish up this little interlude. Hopefully, you all enjoy it.
"You should have seen it, Teyla. You should have been there."
Words floated to Teyla's ears like stray particles of light wafting in a dense white fog, muted and patched, a broken lament whispered from far away.
"TJ's gone, Teyla. Kanaan took him."
"It's probably for the best … It was getting too hard for him … He doesn't understand … just until you get back … just until then …"
Vague recognition drifted over her like wind across a glacier, a familiar pang of sweet longing buried within her, dormant yet alive, a seed waiting in winter.
John.
Stories of war followed, news of ships that were destroyed and names of those who would not be coming home, some of whom she felt she should remember but couldn't. She didn't want to remember. To remember was pain, sorrow, all of which were behind her. She was finished, all her cares done. The words meant nothing now, just a subtle plinking melody in the back of her mind, low and soft, shrouded in a comforting haze of blue.
It was good here. She was still, safe while her body slept. She felt cool and light, almost as if she could fly away if she so chose, or sail away on a ceaseless ocean, the shore behind her while the breeze rustled through her hair. The thought of that freedom filled Teyla with a contentment into which she only longed to sink deeper. But the thing that actually brought a smile to her face was the thought of the balcony and of Atlantis. It was the memory of warmth, arms wrapped securely around her, and lips coupled in sincere, passionate desire. Him.
"They're gone, Teyla. We did it. They're all gone, and I wish you were here to see it."
His voice continued for a time, and Teyla listened. She imagined sometimes that she moved, that she rested her hand against the cold surface of the stasis field, wanting to reach out and touch him. Maybe she did. Maybe she was the one on the outside and he was the one miles away. The answer, however, did not seem to matter. Both of them were out of reach, lost.
Then, his voice suddenly stopped.
"John?" she murmured, searching for him beyond the impenetrable void. Only a faint echo returned.
"I promised you, Teyla. I haven't forgotten …"
"No," she said, a quiver in her throat, an inexplicable well of sorrow deep in her chest. "No, John, don't."
"I'll do whatever it takes."
"John, please," she tried though she knew he could not hear. He was gone again, no more than a shadow's breath in a vacuum of sound. He would not have listened anyway. Not about this.
Flashes of her past billowed across her consciousness in chaotic streams. Her life. Her pain. It was no terrible thing to die with those you loved around you, in the peace of their company, with dignity and grace. In that, she had been lucky. It was a privilege too few were allowed. Kanaan had understood that. Halling had, as well. On New Athos, her pyre was being built, and she was to rest with her father and Charin and all those who had gone before. She had been ready. She had also been heartbroken and horribly afraid. And only John had known that.
Bereft in his stark silence, she touched her forehead to the invisible barrier that kept them separated. It was cold. She was cold. Her fingers had started to tingle, a cluster of pin pricks that rapidly ballooned into an unstoppable swell. Her lips repeated the phrase "Don't. John, don't", but, to her shame, she found that she didn't want him to listen.
She called out his name as she restlessly pressed her hand against the field, growing more frightened and upset the longer he stayed away.
"Shh … shh, now. It's alright, Teyla."
"John?" Her chin snapped up, hopeful. Another stasis pod had appeared in front of hers. They shared the field, an expanse of blue glass that glowed under her fingertips. John was inside, his hand mirroring hers but unable to reach her. Sadness filled the lines of his face, the weight of his decision etched deep. Teyla wanted to cry.
"I promised, didn't I?" he said, his gentle eyes trained on hers.
"John …" She swallowed, a tear running down her cheek. "You should have stayed where you were. Now, you are trapped here. You cannot go back."
John smiled. "I know."
Sand started to pour into his pod.
"John!" Teyla shouted. Frantic, she pounded helplessly against the field as it piled up around his knees.
"It's alright," he said, calm as he was slowly being buried alive. "I am in the only place and the only time I ever wanted to be. The one with you in it."
"John, no," she sobbed.
A hand, strong yet gentle, abruptly surrounded her shoulder. "It's okay, Teyla."
She looked across at John. He smiled again, and a hand brushed her cheek. "Just open your eyes. Everything's fine."
Teyla blinked sporadically, her insides liquid and shaking. Her heart pounded out a furious rhythm as she observed him above her bearing a concerned frown, his eyes a burst of green against the background of the infirmary that for a moment was shattered and pixilated into billions of tiny moving pieces.
"Teyla, you alright?"
Teyla gulped down a cresting wave of bile in the back of her throat as her vision slowly came back together and nodded.
John's frown eased some, and his thumb swept tenderly across her cheek. "It was just a dream," he said. "Whatever it was."
Dark lines jutted out along the curve of his eyes. His clothing was rumpled, and his hair was disheveled. Teyla glanced past him to the next bed over, where he had been told he could sleep if he wanted. The sheets had been mussed, the remnant of the standard hospital corner still visible at the base of the mattress, but Teyla wasn't sure how much use the bed had seen. Just enough for him to feel trapped and alone, Teyla suspected. Or to be confronted by other demons that had hounded him back into the waking world.
He looked tired.
"I am sorry, John."
He shook his head. "They'll go away."
"What time is it?"
"Not sure." After a moment of scattered glances and a scrunched look at the heart monitor, he peered around the infirmary. Teyla did the same.
The lights were still somewhat dimmed, but there was a certain level of activity that simply did not exist in the dead of night. The overnight doctor had put his feet up in the lounge with his charts spread out in the seat next to him. He had a computer tablet balanced in his lap as he busily typed away, no doubt inputting the last of his patient notes. A trio of nurses, two of them bright-eyed and smiling, their skin missing the pale cast of one who's been up all night, chatted while a fresh pot of coffee brewed in the urn.
One of the nurses gave John and Teyla a cursory glance during a momentary lull in the conversation and then turned away. Teyla wondered how long her lack of concern would last. She felt sick. The nanites' movements caused faint draughts of nausea to continue to churn her stomach.
"Looks like it's almost shift change." John looked her over once again with his assessing gaze. "They'll probably be over to check your vitals in a few minutes."
Teyla made a soft noise of agreement, hardly able to take her eyes off him. She reached up and caught the hem of his sleeve, conscious of all potential observers, doctor and patient alike. She let the material slide along her fingers, lightly tugging one instant and accidentally brushing his bicep another.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Teyla nodded, regretful, remembering their kiss and wishing she could pull him down to her. Soon, she hoped. She would be better, and they could lay in the comfort of each other's arms.
For now, though, she tried to remember that had only been another nightmare.
It was time for a new day to start.
Summary: Sequel to Frozen in Place. With her life coming to a painful and untimely end, Teyla stepped into the stasis pod, never expecting to open her eyes on the world again. Then, one day, she did.
Rating: T
Pairing: John Sheppard/Teyla Emmagan
Length: ~1,400 words
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis. Shame. For fun, not profit.
Comments: Thanks to those of you *coughjeyla4evercough* who kept on encouraging me to get back to this story, and to kickstand75 and nacinom who helped me to polish up this little interlude. Hopefully, you all enjoy it.
"You should have seen it, Teyla. You should have been there."
Words floated to Teyla's ears like stray particles of light wafting in a dense white fog, muted and patched, a broken lament whispered from far away.
"TJ's gone, Teyla. Kanaan took him."
"It's probably for the best … It was getting too hard for him … He doesn't understand … just until you get back … just until then …"
Vague recognition drifted over her like wind across a glacier, a familiar pang of sweet longing buried within her, dormant yet alive, a seed waiting in winter.
John.
Stories of war followed, news of ships that were destroyed and names of those who would not be coming home, some of whom she felt she should remember but couldn't. She didn't want to remember. To remember was pain, sorrow, all of which were behind her. She was finished, all her cares done. The words meant nothing now, just a subtle plinking melody in the back of her mind, low and soft, shrouded in a comforting haze of blue.
It was good here. She was still, safe while her body slept. She felt cool and light, almost as if she could fly away if she so chose, or sail away on a ceaseless ocean, the shore behind her while the breeze rustled through her hair. The thought of that freedom filled Teyla with a contentment into which she only longed to sink deeper. But the thing that actually brought a smile to her face was the thought of the balcony and of Atlantis. It was the memory of warmth, arms wrapped securely around her, and lips coupled in sincere, passionate desire. Him.
"They're gone, Teyla. We did it. They're all gone, and I wish you were here to see it."
His voice continued for a time, and Teyla listened. She imagined sometimes that she moved, that she rested her hand against the cold surface of the stasis field, wanting to reach out and touch him. Maybe she did. Maybe she was the one on the outside and he was the one miles away. The answer, however, did not seem to matter. Both of them were out of reach, lost.
Then, his voice suddenly stopped.
"John?" she murmured, searching for him beyond the impenetrable void. Only a faint echo returned.
"I promised you, Teyla. I haven't forgotten …"
"No," she said, a quiver in her throat, an inexplicable well of sorrow deep in her chest. "No, John, don't."
"I'll do whatever it takes."
"John, please," she tried though she knew he could not hear. He was gone again, no more than a shadow's breath in a vacuum of sound. He would not have listened anyway. Not about this.
Flashes of her past billowed across her consciousness in chaotic streams. Her life. Her pain. It was no terrible thing to die with those you loved around you, in the peace of their company, with dignity and grace. In that, she had been lucky. It was a privilege too few were allowed. Kanaan had understood that. Halling had, as well. On New Athos, her pyre was being built, and she was to rest with her father and Charin and all those who had gone before. She had been ready. She had also been heartbroken and horribly afraid. And only John had known that.
Bereft in his stark silence, she touched her forehead to the invisible barrier that kept them separated. It was cold. She was cold. Her fingers had started to tingle, a cluster of pin pricks that rapidly ballooned into an unstoppable swell. Her lips repeated the phrase "Don't. John, don't", but, to her shame, she found that she didn't want him to listen.
She called out his name as she restlessly pressed her hand against the field, growing more frightened and upset the longer he stayed away.
"Shh … shh, now. It's alright, Teyla."
"John?" Her chin snapped up, hopeful. Another stasis pod had appeared in front of hers. They shared the field, an expanse of blue glass that glowed under her fingertips. John was inside, his hand mirroring hers but unable to reach her. Sadness filled the lines of his face, the weight of his decision etched deep. Teyla wanted to cry.
"I promised, didn't I?" he said, his gentle eyes trained on hers.
"John …" She swallowed, a tear running down her cheek. "You should have stayed where you were. Now, you are trapped here. You cannot go back."
John smiled. "I know."
Sand started to pour into his pod.
"John!" Teyla shouted. Frantic, she pounded helplessly against the field as it piled up around his knees.
"It's alright," he said, calm as he was slowly being buried alive. "I am in the only place and the only time I ever wanted to be. The one with you in it."
"John, no," she sobbed.
A hand, strong yet gentle, abruptly surrounded her shoulder. "It's okay, Teyla."
She looked across at John. He smiled again, and a hand brushed her cheek. "Just open your eyes. Everything's fine."
Teyla blinked sporadically, her insides liquid and shaking. Her heart pounded out a furious rhythm as she observed him above her bearing a concerned frown, his eyes a burst of green against the background of the infirmary that for a moment was shattered and pixilated into billions of tiny moving pieces.
"Teyla, you alright?"
Teyla gulped down a cresting wave of bile in the back of her throat as her vision slowly came back together and nodded.
John's frown eased some, and his thumb swept tenderly across her cheek. "It was just a dream," he said. "Whatever it was."
Dark lines jutted out along the curve of his eyes. His clothing was rumpled, and his hair was disheveled. Teyla glanced past him to the next bed over, where he had been told he could sleep if he wanted. The sheets had been mussed, the remnant of the standard hospital corner still visible at the base of the mattress, but Teyla wasn't sure how much use the bed had seen. Just enough for him to feel trapped and alone, Teyla suspected. Or to be confronted by other demons that had hounded him back into the waking world.
He looked tired.
"I am sorry, John."
He shook his head. "They'll go away."
"What time is it?"
"Not sure." After a moment of scattered glances and a scrunched look at the heart monitor, he peered around the infirmary. Teyla did the same.
The lights were still somewhat dimmed, but there was a certain level of activity that simply did not exist in the dead of night. The overnight doctor had put his feet up in the lounge with his charts spread out in the seat next to him. He had a computer tablet balanced in his lap as he busily typed away, no doubt inputting the last of his patient notes. A trio of nurses, two of them bright-eyed and smiling, their skin missing the pale cast of one who's been up all night, chatted while a fresh pot of coffee brewed in the urn.
One of the nurses gave John and Teyla a cursory glance during a momentary lull in the conversation and then turned away. Teyla wondered how long her lack of concern would last. She felt sick. The nanites' movements caused faint draughts of nausea to continue to churn her stomach.
"Looks like it's almost shift change." John looked her over once again with his assessing gaze. "They'll probably be over to check your vitals in a few minutes."
Teyla made a soft noise of agreement, hardly able to take her eyes off him. She reached up and caught the hem of his sleeve, conscious of all potential observers, doctor and patient alike. She let the material slide along her fingers, lightly tugging one instant and accidentally brushing his bicep another.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
Teyla nodded, regretful, remembering their kiss and wishing she could pull him down to her. Soon, she hoped. She would be better, and they could lay in the comfort of each other's arms.
For now, though, she tried to remember that had only been another nightmare.
It was time for a new day to start.