Variations on Loneliness, by canadian_snoopy (city exploration challenge)
Title: Variations on Loneliness
Author: canadian_snoopy
Rating: G
Word Count: 2313
Spoilers: Suspicion
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Before, she had never been one to seek solitude.
Notes: Unbeta’ed, so read at your own risk, my response to the city exploration challenge. This story caused more twitchiness and hand-wringing than I am used to so... any feedback would be appreciated.
*****
On days when they stumble through the gate with their skin just barely attached to their bodies, she often thinks that the only reason why her people made her their leader is because of her gift, which is an accident of genetics that has nothing to do with her skills and everything to do with chance. She also thinks that the Wraith will never be defeated and that she has made a critical mistake in allowing Sheppard and Weir to convince her and her people to stay in Atlantis because their peoples are too *different* to ever really get along.
She knows better, most of the time.
But today has been a bad day, with Sergeant Bates being more of himself than usual, Halling looking disappointed in her and not nearly enough time being spent in friendly company before racing towards the Stargate and safety and she can't help it, the thoughts linger; they make her question decisions that she'd thought she had long made peace with.
She realizes that feeling sorry for one's self is a waste of energy, that Sergeant Bates is simply stubbornly doing his job, that Halling will come around eventually and that her new friends are *good* allies for her people, brave and as-of-yet unbroken by the Wraith. But still, it doesn't stop her from feeling the despair clawing at her, draining her energy and making her selfishly wish that everyone would simply leave her alone and let her brood in peace.
Perhaps that is why she has come to this spot, a place discovered during a combined bout of insomnia and restlessness. The room is deserted and she can see the sun setting in the horizon, the windows somehow changing the star's orange glow to something that is close to the familiar red of her homeworld's star, washing the sky with a colour that makes her long for home.
The windows also seem to magnify the heat of those last weak rays from the sun and she presses a palm against the pane of glass, greedily absorbing the warmth. Atlantis is where she lives now and while she understands the other's amazement at the grandeur of the Ancestor's city, it is never nearly warm enough for her tastes.
Glass finally cooling under her hand, Teyla moves to sit on the floor, legs drawn up so that her chin is resting on the space between her bent knees, her arms curling around her legs for warmth. The ocean is nearly drowned out up here and the sounds of the city are muffled and distant in a way that is hard to find nearer the living quarters. Before, she had never been one to seek solitude, their village small and busy enough to make privacy an abstract rather than reality.
Now, she finds herself seeking out the quiet places more and more. She wonders if it is a product of age and loneliness, of the fact that she truly *is* alone for the first time in her life, her people far away in the mainland and separated from her. She wonders if it is simply another aspect of her gift, the existence of something that makes her so intimately connected to the Wraith leaving her ultimately companionless.
The others in the city seem to have no problems with solitude, seeking out company when circumstances call for it but seeming just as content to investigate the secrets of the Ancestors in empty laboratories. Teyla is not accustomed to it, to sleeping in an empty room and walking nearly empty hallways that echo around her with the voices of long-dead ancestors.
However, she is becoming used to it.
In fact, she is becoming used to a great number of things in Atlantis and sometimes, especially during days like today when nothing is easy and everything is a struggle, she fears that the Teyla Emmagan she was before would not recognize the Teyla Emmagan she is now.
Feeling her depression press against her like a weight, she forces herself to examine the layout of the room for what must be the hundredth time, taking in the subtle colours on the walls that the sunlight is highlighting with something like desperation. Sitting in the fading light, shadows curling around her like smoke, she has finally decided that this had been an indoor garden, the sort Doctor Beckett had described as a greenhouse when he'd mentioned his mother's hobby.
There is nothing green about the room, nor does it look like a house, but Teyla can sometimes almost catch the scent of something growing and flowering in the room, an odour that lingers despite the long time that the room has spent empty of life.
Greenhouse is a good name for it.
The windows curve upwards and sideways, giving way to dark walls and ceilings about halfway into the room, merging seamelessly into the more opaque material. There is something about the location of the room, about how it is situated between the towers of glass and metal that make up Atlantis, that ensures maximal exposure to light at all times. She could, somehow, see both the sun rise and set in this room, and the heat of the day lingers well into darkness, the room warm even in the middle of the night.
She knows there are reasons for it, easily hearing Doctor McKay's lecturing voice in her head the few times she has tried to theorize from what she has learned of the city, but she generally doesn't give it much though, simply accepting it as one of the Ancestor's better feats of engineering.
*****
The first time she sees Doctor McKay standing in front of the window, scanning device in his hand, she feels a burst of irrational anger so strong that it quickly shames her.
He turns on the balls of his feet, startled at the sound of her footsteps. "Teyla," he says, the scanner in his hand dropping to his side in surprise.
Teyla manages a smile somehow because Doctor McKay has done nothing to merit the anger tightening across her chest, smiling even as betrayal and disappointment war for supremacy behind her eyes. "I did not realize there was anyone here."
He nods a little, knocking the scanner against his leg with a slow beat that only he hears. "I didn't even realize this place *was* here," he admits. McKay points towards the dead plants collected in a corner, her work of a few days past, with a raised eyebrow. "Greenhouse?"
"I believe so."
Doctor McKay looks at her, frowning a little even as the scanner continues its slow beat against his leg. He seems to see something in her face, which doesn't surprise her nearly as much as it would have a few months ago -- she is learning that McKay has a tendency to see more than he lets on -- and he shrugs. "I'll leave you alone then."
Teyla opens her mouth to protest, to say she has no more claim to this room than anyone else, but Doctor McKay is gone quickly, the sound of his steps fading to nothing before she can gather her thoughts.
She stares at the open door, blinking a little at McKay's speed, before sighing and deciding that she is perhaps feeling too unsettled for solitude -- she will see if maybe Major Sheppard wants to practice with the staves for a while.
The second time, Teyla is already sitting in her usual spot on the floor, leaning back on her arms and watching stars blink on and off above her head. She hears the approaching footsteps but the lassitude that generally follows star-watching has made her lazy and so she does nothing, letting the person approach her quietly before looking up.
McKay looks startled as her eyes meet his. "I didn't think you'd be here."
Teyla shrugs, shifting so that now her legs are crossed in front of her. "The night sky is clear," she says apropros to nothing, leaning her head back to watch the stars again, content to let McKay make up his own mind as to whether he wants to stay or go.
Her mood is light and her earlier annoyance at having her secret place found is no longer there; she thinks that perhaps she is becoming used to being alone.
Teyla knows that she doesn't find the thought nearly as disconcerting as she should.
She feels McKay's bemused expression behind her without having to see it but pays it no mind, creating and naming new constellations for the first time since she was a child on her father's lap. She hears him walk away just as she decides that she will name one particular group of stars 'Domus', the pattern rather reminding her of the Lady of the Water constellation back on Athos.
The third time, McKay finally decides to join her, barely bumping into her as he moves to sit beside her. Happy to have a new source of warmth and company regardless of her new appreciation for solitude, she points to the sky and asks, "What do you think that one looks like?"
He shoots her an amused look before looking up, sighting along her outstretched arm for a second before nodding. After a moment, he says, "Reminds me of the stick man Ford was doodling during the debriefing today."
Teyla smiles at that, remembering. "He was fortunate Doctor Weir didn't notice."
McKay snorts. "Like you haven't noticed that we're all luckier than we deserve."
Teyla acknowledges the observation with a smile and leans back on her arms again, listening to the soft sounds of Doctor McKay's breathing, feeling the warmth of his body pressing against her arm with something like contentment.
She forgets that she had come to this place seeking solitude and finds herself enjoying McKay's company, bumping his shoulder companiably when he begins telling her a story about a hunter from his planet named Orion who had been immortalized in the stars.
The fourth time they meet, the light from the fading sun seems to emphasize the lurid bruise on Doctor McKay's face, somehow making it look even worse than it really is. Teyla doesn't mention it, mostly because she already knows that Doctor Beckett has promised Doctor McKay a full recovery and because she knows she should not give McKay an excuse to complain yet again. Nonetheless, she leans against his shoulder, lightly because she knows there are more bruises under his clothing, and feel warm for the first time in days.
Lately, all days have been bad days.
She tells him the story of the Hunter of the Forest, in exchange to his gift of Orion, and if she finds her eyes straying to the faint smile on his face, only barely there because the bruise makes smiling painful, neither of them mention it.
The fifth time she finds him already sitting, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he leans against the glass, back to the ocean and head tilted upward awkwardly. He waves her over without a word and waits until she has settled before telling her the story of Perseus and his battle against Medusa, a creature who had been able to turn men into stone with a look. The story is entertaining and she follows it with her own tale of Garlen the Young and how he'd been sent on a quest by the Ancestors to hunt the Great Beast with every expectation of failure.
"Weird how the stories are so similar," he muses quietly and Teyla hears the curiousity in his voice, as much a part of him as her gift is to her, and smiles a little.
She agrees and they exchange ideas over what that could mean before she begs off, laughing as more and more improbable theories are spouted between the two of them. McKay, magnanimous in victory, then tells her a story that reminds her a lot of one of Jinto's favourite tales, McKay's hands moving as if to emphasize what he considers to be the really *interesting* parts of his story.
By their sixth meeting, Teyla has come to a realization that causes her smile at Doctor McKay in a way that makes him to stumble over his words a little.
"What?" he asks and Teyla can hear the wariness in his voice.
"Nothing bad, I promise you," she tells him, smiling further at the narrowed look of concentration that he is giving her -- she is only a little ashamed by how much that look amuses her.
As intelligent as she knows he is, as determined and hard-working she's seen him be, it is the near-effortless way he has of making her laugh that she appreciates most in him.
"I'm not sure I trust you," he grumbles but he seems to drop the matter when he becomes distracted by the way the light from the setting sun is bleeding through the storm clouds in the horizon. She gets his attention again when she places her hand on his arm and presses her mouth against his.
He stills and it reminds her of how he is in the field, the way he can stop speaking, almost as if someone has thrown a switch, when Major Sheppard gets a particular look on his face; an expression that is mirrored, she knows, in her and Lieutenant Ford's own faces. It is something she values in him because she knows it isn't what he is used to, not having learned it either through training or necessity the way the rest of their team has.
Then he seems to vibrate under her hand, just barely, and she feels his hand come up to cup her face. She feels the rough skin of his fingertips brush her cheek and she shivers.
She finds that she does not miss being alone.
*****
THE END
Author: canadian_snoopy
Rating: G
Word Count: 2313
Spoilers: Suspicion
Disclaimer: Not mine
Summary: Before, she had never been one to seek solitude.
Notes: Unbeta’ed, so read at your own risk, my response to the city exploration challenge. This story caused more twitchiness and hand-wringing than I am used to so... any feedback would be appreciated.
*****
On days when they stumble through the gate with their skin just barely attached to their bodies, she often thinks that the only reason why her people made her their leader is because of her gift, which is an accident of genetics that has nothing to do with her skills and everything to do with chance. She also thinks that the Wraith will never be defeated and that she has made a critical mistake in allowing Sheppard and Weir to convince her and her people to stay in Atlantis because their peoples are too *different* to ever really get along.
She knows better, most of the time.
But today has been a bad day, with Sergeant Bates being more of himself than usual, Halling looking disappointed in her and not nearly enough time being spent in friendly company before racing towards the Stargate and safety and she can't help it, the thoughts linger; they make her question decisions that she'd thought she had long made peace with.
She realizes that feeling sorry for one's self is a waste of energy, that Sergeant Bates is simply stubbornly doing his job, that Halling will come around eventually and that her new friends are *good* allies for her people, brave and as-of-yet unbroken by the Wraith. But still, it doesn't stop her from feeling the despair clawing at her, draining her energy and making her selfishly wish that everyone would simply leave her alone and let her brood in peace.
Perhaps that is why she has come to this spot, a place discovered during a combined bout of insomnia and restlessness. The room is deserted and she can see the sun setting in the horizon, the windows somehow changing the star's orange glow to something that is close to the familiar red of her homeworld's star, washing the sky with a colour that makes her long for home.
The windows also seem to magnify the heat of those last weak rays from the sun and she presses a palm against the pane of glass, greedily absorbing the warmth. Atlantis is where she lives now and while she understands the other's amazement at the grandeur of the Ancestor's city, it is never nearly warm enough for her tastes.
Glass finally cooling under her hand, Teyla moves to sit on the floor, legs drawn up so that her chin is resting on the space between her bent knees, her arms curling around her legs for warmth. The ocean is nearly drowned out up here and the sounds of the city are muffled and distant in a way that is hard to find nearer the living quarters. Before, she had never been one to seek solitude, their village small and busy enough to make privacy an abstract rather than reality.
Now, she finds herself seeking out the quiet places more and more. She wonders if it is a product of age and loneliness, of the fact that she truly *is* alone for the first time in her life, her people far away in the mainland and separated from her. She wonders if it is simply another aspect of her gift, the existence of something that makes her so intimately connected to the Wraith leaving her ultimately companionless.
The others in the city seem to have no problems with solitude, seeking out company when circumstances call for it but seeming just as content to investigate the secrets of the Ancestors in empty laboratories. Teyla is not accustomed to it, to sleeping in an empty room and walking nearly empty hallways that echo around her with the voices of long-dead ancestors.
However, she is becoming used to it.
In fact, she is becoming used to a great number of things in Atlantis and sometimes, especially during days like today when nothing is easy and everything is a struggle, she fears that the Teyla Emmagan she was before would not recognize the Teyla Emmagan she is now.
Feeling her depression press against her like a weight, she forces herself to examine the layout of the room for what must be the hundredth time, taking in the subtle colours on the walls that the sunlight is highlighting with something like desperation. Sitting in the fading light, shadows curling around her like smoke, she has finally decided that this had been an indoor garden, the sort Doctor Beckett had described as a greenhouse when he'd mentioned his mother's hobby.
There is nothing green about the room, nor does it look like a house, but Teyla can sometimes almost catch the scent of something growing and flowering in the room, an odour that lingers despite the long time that the room has spent empty of life.
Greenhouse is a good name for it.
The windows curve upwards and sideways, giving way to dark walls and ceilings about halfway into the room, merging seamelessly into the more opaque material. There is something about the location of the room, about how it is situated between the towers of glass and metal that make up Atlantis, that ensures maximal exposure to light at all times. She could, somehow, see both the sun rise and set in this room, and the heat of the day lingers well into darkness, the room warm even in the middle of the night.
She knows there are reasons for it, easily hearing Doctor McKay's lecturing voice in her head the few times she has tried to theorize from what she has learned of the city, but she generally doesn't give it much though, simply accepting it as one of the Ancestor's better feats of engineering.
*****
The first time she sees Doctor McKay standing in front of the window, scanning device in his hand, she feels a burst of irrational anger so strong that it quickly shames her.
He turns on the balls of his feet, startled at the sound of her footsteps. "Teyla," he says, the scanner in his hand dropping to his side in surprise.
Teyla manages a smile somehow because Doctor McKay has done nothing to merit the anger tightening across her chest, smiling even as betrayal and disappointment war for supremacy behind her eyes. "I did not realize there was anyone here."
He nods a little, knocking the scanner against his leg with a slow beat that only he hears. "I didn't even realize this place *was* here," he admits. McKay points towards the dead plants collected in a corner, her work of a few days past, with a raised eyebrow. "Greenhouse?"
"I believe so."
Doctor McKay looks at her, frowning a little even as the scanner continues its slow beat against his leg. He seems to see something in her face, which doesn't surprise her nearly as much as it would have a few months ago -- she is learning that McKay has a tendency to see more than he lets on -- and he shrugs. "I'll leave you alone then."
Teyla opens her mouth to protest, to say she has no more claim to this room than anyone else, but Doctor McKay is gone quickly, the sound of his steps fading to nothing before she can gather her thoughts.
She stares at the open door, blinking a little at McKay's speed, before sighing and deciding that she is perhaps feeling too unsettled for solitude -- she will see if maybe Major Sheppard wants to practice with the staves for a while.
The second time, Teyla is already sitting in her usual spot on the floor, leaning back on her arms and watching stars blink on and off above her head. She hears the approaching footsteps but the lassitude that generally follows star-watching has made her lazy and so she does nothing, letting the person approach her quietly before looking up.
McKay looks startled as her eyes meet his. "I didn't think you'd be here."
Teyla shrugs, shifting so that now her legs are crossed in front of her. "The night sky is clear," she says apropros to nothing, leaning her head back to watch the stars again, content to let McKay make up his own mind as to whether he wants to stay or go.
Her mood is light and her earlier annoyance at having her secret place found is no longer there; she thinks that perhaps she is becoming used to being alone.
Teyla knows that she doesn't find the thought nearly as disconcerting as she should.
She feels McKay's bemused expression behind her without having to see it but pays it no mind, creating and naming new constellations for the first time since she was a child on her father's lap. She hears him walk away just as she decides that she will name one particular group of stars 'Domus', the pattern rather reminding her of the Lady of the Water constellation back on Athos.
The third time, McKay finally decides to join her, barely bumping into her as he moves to sit beside her. Happy to have a new source of warmth and company regardless of her new appreciation for solitude, she points to the sky and asks, "What do you think that one looks like?"
He shoots her an amused look before looking up, sighting along her outstretched arm for a second before nodding. After a moment, he says, "Reminds me of the stick man Ford was doodling during the debriefing today."
Teyla smiles at that, remembering. "He was fortunate Doctor Weir didn't notice."
McKay snorts. "Like you haven't noticed that we're all luckier than we deserve."
Teyla acknowledges the observation with a smile and leans back on her arms again, listening to the soft sounds of Doctor McKay's breathing, feeling the warmth of his body pressing against her arm with something like contentment.
She forgets that she had come to this place seeking solitude and finds herself enjoying McKay's company, bumping his shoulder companiably when he begins telling her a story about a hunter from his planet named Orion who had been immortalized in the stars.
The fourth time they meet, the light from the fading sun seems to emphasize the lurid bruise on Doctor McKay's face, somehow making it look even worse than it really is. Teyla doesn't mention it, mostly because she already knows that Doctor Beckett has promised Doctor McKay a full recovery and because she knows she should not give McKay an excuse to complain yet again. Nonetheless, she leans against his shoulder, lightly because she knows there are more bruises under his clothing, and feel warm for the first time in days.
Lately, all days have been bad days.
She tells him the story of the Hunter of the Forest, in exchange to his gift of Orion, and if she finds her eyes straying to the faint smile on his face, only barely there because the bruise makes smiling painful, neither of them mention it.
The fifth time she finds him already sitting, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles as he leans against the glass, back to the ocean and head tilted upward awkwardly. He waves her over without a word and waits until she has settled before telling her the story of Perseus and his battle against Medusa, a creature who had been able to turn men into stone with a look. The story is entertaining and she follows it with her own tale of Garlen the Young and how he'd been sent on a quest by the Ancestors to hunt the Great Beast with every expectation of failure.
"Weird how the stories are so similar," he muses quietly and Teyla hears the curiousity in his voice, as much a part of him as her gift is to her, and smiles a little.
She agrees and they exchange ideas over what that could mean before she begs off, laughing as more and more improbable theories are spouted between the two of them. McKay, magnanimous in victory, then tells her a story that reminds her a lot of one of Jinto's favourite tales, McKay's hands moving as if to emphasize what he considers to be the really *interesting* parts of his story.
By their sixth meeting, Teyla has come to a realization that causes her smile at Doctor McKay in a way that makes him to stumble over his words a little.
"What?" he asks and Teyla can hear the wariness in his voice.
"Nothing bad, I promise you," she tells him, smiling further at the narrowed look of concentration that he is giving her -- she is only a little ashamed by how much that look amuses her.
As intelligent as she knows he is, as determined and hard-working she's seen him be, it is the near-effortless way he has of making her laugh that she appreciates most in him.
"I'm not sure I trust you," he grumbles but he seems to drop the matter when he becomes distracted by the way the light from the setting sun is bleeding through the storm clouds in the horizon. She gets his attention again when she places her hand on his arm and presses her mouth against his.
He stills and it reminds her of how he is in the field, the way he can stop speaking, almost as if someone has thrown a switch, when Major Sheppard gets a particular look on his face; an expression that is mirrored, she knows, in her and Lieutenant Ford's own faces. It is something she values in him because she knows it isn't what he is used to, not having learned it either through training or necessity the way the rest of their team has.
Then he seems to vibrate under her hand, just barely, and she feels his hand come up to cup her face. She feels the rough skin of his fingertips brush her cheek and she shivers.
She finds that she does not miss being alone.
*****
THE END