And And And / SGA
Title: And And And
Rating: PG
Fandom: SGA
Prompt: Write about a time you found out something you weren't supposed to know.
Summary: Almost everyone knew to keep it a secret from Teyla.
Lorne, not Rodney, lets the cat out of the bag, although neither seem to realize there’s a cat or a bag to be worried about.
“There was a holocaust on Earth, too,” Lorne says over breakfast, as though he were talking about the weather; Teyla frowns at him, and wonders where John is, because she’s not used to spending time with Lorne or the other soldiers.
“I thought the Wraith have never been to your world,” she replies. Of course she would think an alien influence was to blame; she has grown up in a different place, where people of the same culture don’t pit themselves against one another.
“It wasn’t them, it was us. Well, not us. Germany. You ever heard of it?”
“Humans willingly allowed for a holocaust?” she asks, morbidly curious, forgetting her tea as her eyebrows draw together. It’s only now that he thinks maybe I shouldn’t tell her this story, and he inwardly winces when she continues with, “I would like to read more about this.”
No, Evan thinks, You wouldn’t.
…
But she does. She asks Kate to have a book ordered on the next Daedalus trip; Kate’s reluctant, because that’s the last thing Teyla needs to read, but how can she say no? All Teyla wants to understand is the history of Earth, particularly the 1940s, and Kate thinks You were never supposed to find out.
The book she finds (The Holocaust Chronicles, which is too big and heavy and painful) comes a few weeks later. Kate debates hiding it instead, but eventually breaks when Teyla asks if it’s been shipped for the third time in just as many days. Kate keeps it in the original brown box when she hands it over while Teyla thanks her with a smile.
The box actually sits on Teyla’s bed stand for a time, since she’s so busy with on the mainland, but then Saturday (or what passes for it) comes. She finds herself with a free hour, and begins flipping through the pages without expecting the unbearable pain that stabs her heart.
She reads and reads and reads, accidentally skipping dinner and not caring in the least.
…
Rodney knocks on her door two days later, pleading for ten minutes straight. “That’s all in the past,” he says, “Please, Teyla. It’s just going to make you… well, sad. No one wants that.”
She’s surprised by how much he cares whether she’s happy or otherwise, but he’s wrong about one thing. Teyla isn’t sad. She’s horrified.
These humans are the ones with whom I trust my people? she wonders, and: How could I have made this mistake?
…
She’s extra hard on John during stick practice on Monday. He demands to know what’s wrong after she nearly (unapologetically) breaks his wrist.
“I was given a history book of your world,” Teyla answers, hitting harder and harder and harder, much more brutal than usual. “And your people are sickening. How do you face yourself every morning? I know of none other who have committed such atrocities.”
John desperately tries to explain countries and Germany versus the U.S., but she doesn’t understand the concept of a separated planet, of civilizations who fight for dominance instead of living together in unison.
She hits and hits and hits, and he lets her.
…
Rodney begs through her door again: “I’ll talk to you about it, or-or we can see Kate! She knows all about psychology. The study of the human mind can explain why certain people act they way they do-”
“Psychology?” she snaps. “You think that excuses it? You think science can forgive this?”
This is: sterilization, forced labor, starvation, inhumane conditions, experimentation, killing squads, ghettos, extermination and concentration camps.
A week ago, Rodney held onto the belief that science absolves everything.
The past seven days have proven him false.
…
Ronon says bad things happen. Ronon says good people suffer. She feels impatient with him, with his complete disregard for what happened all those years ago, so she disregards him as well.
She wants to talk to someone, but Elizabeth is too kind and tries to sugar-coat the subject, sweetening the unbearable. John has his own problems and Rodney’s too eager to sum those horrible times up to brain chemicals and “groupthink” theory, the mob mentality. She wanders around in a cloud, unresponsive to most conversation. She hasn’t mediated in many days.
She finds Radek in his lab, fiddling with something wholly inorganic and silver. He looks up and smiles.
“Hello,” he greets, and that’s all he’s going to say until she politely asks if she can watch him work. Isn’t that always the case? So polite and restrained by manners, unable to say what’s really on her mind. He looks surprised by the request, but gestures towards a chair and says, “Of course, but it is not very exciting in here. Unless Colonel touches something. Then we nearly die.”
She laughs and wants to ask what he knows about the Holocaust, but can’t bring herself to verbalize the question. It's surprisingly nice to simply sit with him instead.
…
That’s how it goes, for a little while. She isn’t comfortable with anyone else. John and the rest are Americans, and Rodney (although he would die if he heard this) is similar to them in speech and custom. Carson is a variation on a theme, but Radek is smaller, smarter, quicker, and makes her feel much less alienated, because he feels alienated, too.
After about a week of spending a quiet hour in his company, he asks, “So what is bothering you?”
The words tumble from her mouth before she can stop them.
…
On Sunday, she eats lunch with him. He explains his grandparents, where they were, and how they died. “I never really knew them,” he admits, “But I know it was senseless and unbearable.” She reveals that she never knew her grandparents either.
“Culled?” he asks; she nods, and he says, “I’m sorry. That’s all anyone can ever say, because there’s nothing else we can do. I hope you realize this Holocaust happened before you and I were ever born.”
His accent is heavy, but it sounds clearer than anything she’s heard in weeks.
…
The sky is beginning to tint orange as the sun sets below the horizon. Radek stands on her right and Rodney on her left; Teyla’s holding the book, although it feels too big. There are too many pages.
She wishes they were all blank.
“Ready?” Radek asks. She smiles and nods. “Then drop at will.”
She holds her hands over the railing, takes a deep breath, and lets go. They watch it fall until there’s a small splash; it breaks the water’s surface, and then disappears beneath the layers of blue. They stand in silence until Rodney finally speaks, but both she and Radek expect that. Rodney can never be quiet for long.
“Never follow us,” he says, more serious than she’s ever seen him. “When you lead your people, don’t follow our example. The human race isn’t nearly as glorious as we like to believe.”
“I won’t,” she promises, “My people will make our own way. I have learned from this…” Teyla trails off, unsure of the proper term. I have learned from this mistake, but that sounds monumentally inappropriate. The Holocaust was so much more than a simple accident.
Rodney merely pats her arm, understanding her lack of proper words. He glances at Radek and then at Teyla, smiling slightly, as though seeing something they don’t.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’ll just go back inside. Genius waits for no man.” So he does, leaving them alone with the sea. Radek’s hand feels close to hers, warmer than the breeze, so she brushes against it and he gently grabs hold of her palm. Their fingers are intertwined a second later.
Beneath them, deep under water, the book is sinking and sinking and sinking.
FIN.
Rating: PG
Fandom: SGA
Prompt: Write about a time you found out something you weren't supposed to know.
Summary: Almost everyone knew to keep it a secret from Teyla.
Lorne, not Rodney, lets the cat out of the bag, although neither seem to realize there’s a cat or a bag to be worried about.
“There was a holocaust on Earth, too,” Lorne says over breakfast, as though he were talking about the weather; Teyla frowns at him, and wonders where John is, because she’s not used to spending time with Lorne or the other soldiers.
“I thought the Wraith have never been to your world,” she replies. Of course she would think an alien influence was to blame; she has grown up in a different place, where people of the same culture don’t pit themselves against one another.
“It wasn’t them, it was us. Well, not us. Germany. You ever heard of it?”
“Humans willingly allowed for a holocaust?” she asks, morbidly curious, forgetting her tea as her eyebrows draw together. It’s only now that he thinks maybe I shouldn’t tell her this story, and he inwardly winces when she continues with, “I would like to read more about this.”
No, Evan thinks, You wouldn’t.
…
But she does. She asks Kate to have a book ordered on the next Daedalus trip; Kate’s reluctant, because that’s the last thing Teyla needs to read, but how can she say no? All Teyla wants to understand is the history of Earth, particularly the 1940s, and Kate thinks You were never supposed to find out.
The book she finds (The Holocaust Chronicles, which is too big and heavy and painful) comes a few weeks later. Kate debates hiding it instead, but eventually breaks when Teyla asks if it’s been shipped for the third time in just as many days. Kate keeps it in the original brown box when she hands it over while Teyla thanks her with a smile.
The box actually sits on Teyla’s bed stand for a time, since she’s so busy with on the mainland, but then Saturday (or what passes for it) comes. She finds herself with a free hour, and begins flipping through the pages without expecting the unbearable pain that stabs her heart.
She reads and reads and reads, accidentally skipping dinner and not caring in the least.
…
Rodney knocks on her door two days later, pleading for ten minutes straight. “That’s all in the past,” he says, “Please, Teyla. It’s just going to make you… well, sad. No one wants that.”
She’s surprised by how much he cares whether she’s happy or otherwise, but he’s wrong about one thing. Teyla isn’t sad. She’s horrified.
These humans are the ones with whom I trust my people? she wonders, and: How could I have made this mistake?
…
She’s extra hard on John during stick practice on Monday. He demands to know what’s wrong after she nearly (unapologetically) breaks his wrist.
“I was given a history book of your world,” Teyla answers, hitting harder and harder and harder, much more brutal than usual. “And your people are sickening. How do you face yourself every morning? I know of none other who have committed such atrocities.”
John desperately tries to explain countries and Germany versus the U.S., but she doesn’t understand the concept of a separated planet, of civilizations who fight for dominance instead of living together in unison.
She hits and hits and hits, and he lets her.
…
Rodney begs through her door again: “I’ll talk to you about it, or-or we can see Kate! She knows all about psychology. The study of the human mind can explain why certain people act they way they do-”
“Psychology?” she snaps. “You think that excuses it? You think science can forgive this?”
This is: sterilization, forced labor, starvation, inhumane conditions, experimentation, killing squads, ghettos, extermination and concentration camps.
A week ago, Rodney held onto the belief that science absolves everything.
The past seven days have proven him false.
…
Ronon says bad things happen. Ronon says good people suffer. She feels impatient with him, with his complete disregard for what happened all those years ago, so she disregards him as well.
She wants to talk to someone, but Elizabeth is too kind and tries to sugar-coat the subject, sweetening the unbearable. John has his own problems and Rodney’s too eager to sum those horrible times up to brain chemicals and “groupthink” theory, the mob mentality. She wanders around in a cloud, unresponsive to most conversation. She hasn’t mediated in many days.
She finds Radek in his lab, fiddling with something wholly inorganic and silver. He looks up and smiles.
“Hello,” he greets, and that’s all he’s going to say until she politely asks if she can watch him work. Isn’t that always the case? So polite and restrained by manners, unable to say what’s really on her mind. He looks surprised by the request, but gestures towards a chair and says, “Of course, but it is not very exciting in here. Unless Colonel touches something. Then we nearly die.”
She laughs and wants to ask what he knows about the Holocaust, but can’t bring herself to verbalize the question. It's surprisingly nice to simply sit with him instead.
…
That’s how it goes, for a little while. She isn’t comfortable with anyone else. John and the rest are Americans, and Rodney (although he would die if he heard this) is similar to them in speech and custom. Carson is a variation on a theme, but Radek is smaller, smarter, quicker, and makes her feel much less alienated, because he feels alienated, too.
After about a week of spending a quiet hour in his company, he asks, “So what is bothering you?”
The words tumble from her mouth before she can stop them.
…
On Sunday, she eats lunch with him. He explains his grandparents, where they were, and how they died. “I never really knew them,” he admits, “But I know it was senseless and unbearable.” She reveals that she never knew her grandparents either.
“Culled?” he asks; she nods, and he says, “I’m sorry. That’s all anyone can ever say, because there’s nothing else we can do. I hope you realize this Holocaust happened before you and I were ever born.”
His accent is heavy, but it sounds clearer than anything she’s heard in weeks.
…
The sky is beginning to tint orange as the sun sets below the horizon. Radek stands on her right and Rodney on her left; Teyla’s holding the book, although it feels too big. There are too many pages.
She wishes they were all blank.
“Ready?” Radek asks. She smiles and nods. “Then drop at will.”
She holds her hands over the railing, takes a deep breath, and lets go. They watch it fall until there’s a small splash; it breaks the water’s surface, and then disappears beneath the layers of blue. They stand in silence until Rodney finally speaks, but both she and Radek expect that. Rodney can never be quiet for long.
“Never follow us,” he says, more serious than she’s ever seen him. “When you lead your people, don’t follow our example. The human race isn’t nearly as glorious as we like to believe.”
“I won’t,” she promises, “My people will make our own way. I have learned from this…” Teyla trails off, unsure of the proper term. I have learned from this mistake, but that sounds monumentally inappropriate. The Holocaust was so much more than a simple accident.
Rodney merely pats her arm, understanding her lack of proper words. He glances at Radek and then at Teyla, smiling slightly, as though seeing something they don’t.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “I’ll just go back inside. Genius waits for no man.” So he does, leaving them alone with the sea. Radek’s hand feels close to hers, warmer than the breeze, so she brushes against it and he gently grabs hold of her palm. Their fingers are intertwined a second later.
Beneath them, deep under water, the book is sinking and sinking and sinking.
FIN.