[fic] To Sing For (SGA)
TITLE: To Sing For
RATING: G
SUMMARY: (Stargate: Atlantis) Teyla and music.
14 Valentines: V-Day
NOTES: Thank you to etben and cincodemaygirl and up-from-ashes for audiencing, even if I didn't take any of their advice.
Every other day or so, Teyla has tea with Elizabeth. It is part business and part pleasure--as often as they discuss the food supply or how well (badly) the Athosians are fitting into Atlantis, they gossip about others on the base or talk of their youths.
Teyla is glad for their times together, and suspects Elizabeth is more than a little relieved to have another woman to talk to--the expedition is overwhelmingly male, and it is nice, Teyla knows, to simply sit and talk with one's sisters--but today she is a bit apprehensive, and toys with the teacup.
"The party last night," she begins.
Elizabeth smiles at the recollection of the gathering. "Did you enjoy it?"
It was a rather loud affair, dancing and food and people taking turns singing songs. Some better than others.
"It was," Teyla says guardedly, "interesting. The songs . . . "
"People got a little carried away with the karaoke, didn't they?" Elizabeth says. "What did you think of it?"
Odd, and frivolous, she thinks, and tries to think of a way to put it. "They were . . . " she starts, and then just decides on honesty; she and Elizabeth seldom stand on ceremony. "They are as the songs of children," she says.
Elizabeth frowns, not an angry frown, but the one where she just wants to understand more and so appears that she is trying to read people like writing that will give up its secrets if she puzzles over it.
"When my people sing," Teyla explains, "it is for death or love or hope against terrible odds. Many of the songs last night--they seemed . . . light," she finishes, for lack of a better word.
"Well," Elizabeth says dryly, although she is smiling, "I can see how Love Shack might not be considered the pinnacle of human musical expression," and explains how last night's party music would of necessity have skewed toward the lighthearted. "But much of Earth's music is more along the lines of what you've said Athosian songs are about. Most of the members of the expedition brought recordings of songs with them; I'm sure we could get you copies if you're interested."
"Thank you," Teyla says. If nothing else, it will perhaps help her understand these people a little better.
"And," Elizabeth adds, "I would love to hear some Athosian songs as well."
Teyla smiles. "We would be honored."
***
True to her word, the next time they meet Elizabeth has for her one of the white music players that many of the expedition's members carry.
"I've put copies of most of my music on it," Elizabeth says, "and put out the word that you're interested in other genres. I'm sure people would be happy to help."
That night, Teyla sits in her quarters and explores the iPod. She likes the drum-songs, beats moving and whirling like a fight, and the sound of a thin reedy instrument that soars like a bird, although much of Elizabeth's music is in languages that she cannot understand.
Much of the emotion comes through, though, and there are songs that make her think of springtime in her youth, green and bright and hopeful; one sounds much like a tune her father used to sing, and she plays it over and over again until the tears come.
***
"Heard you were looking for music," John says one day, and connects her player to his and transfers a sizeable collection. This, at least, is all in English--fast songs, of course, like John, flying and running through her ears--and then slower, sad songs of loss and sorrow.
On Athos, and indeed most of the worlds Teyla has visited, living under the threat of the Wraith means that a bonded couple tends to stay together until they are separated by the Wraith, something that happens all too often. To have a relationship sundered not by an enemy, but by the caprice of someone you loved . . . she understands a little better now how these people, who have grown and lived under no Wraith threat, can have such hardness behind their eyes.
***
They are on a mission, waiting in the puddlejumper for the Major and Ford to return, when Teyla says, "Doctor McKay, what is Compton?"
Rodney slaps a hand over his eyes so forcefully that Teyla's eyes widen in alarm. "Oh, my God," he says. "What did the marines give you?"
"The young men singing seem very angry," she says thoughtfully, "although I admit many of the references elude me."
That night, after they are safely back in Atlantis, Rodney shows up at her door with a laptop and proceeds to teach her what, as he says, the finer points of Earth music are.
Many of the songs he gives her do not have words, but he shows her pictures of the instruments and pantomimes how they are played--the trombone amuses her greatly--and although she'll never know the difference between a concerto and a cantata, she listens to them all hungrily, thinking what wonderful music it would be to meditate on, and how it is a shame that Rodney never will.
"Oh, and that last one," he says as he leaves, "don't, um, don't tell anyone you got that from me."
Teyla promises, although she cannot see why. Although she is faced with loss, the singer's heart will go on--it is a perfectly beautiful sentiment.
***
"So," Elizabeth says a few weeks later, "how are you finding the music?"
"I am enjoying it very much," Teyla says, taking the teacup. She has heard so many new songs over the last few weeks, songs of love and play and fighting your way through an unfair world; music of sorrow and loss and stories, songs about the gods and the worlds yet to come and how life is hard now but there is always hope. "I think I would enjoy visiting your world," she says. "You have so many things to sing for."
RATING: G
SUMMARY: (Stargate: Atlantis) Teyla and music.
14 Valentines: V-Day
NOTES: Thank you to etben and cincodemaygirl and up-from-ashes for audiencing, even if I didn't take any of their advice.
Every other day or so, Teyla has tea with Elizabeth. It is part business and part pleasure--as often as they discuss the food supply or how well (badly) the Athosians are fitting into Atlantis, they gossip about others on the base or talk of their youths.
Teyla is glad for their times together, and suspects Elizabeth is more than a little relieved to have another woman to talk to--the expedition is overwhelmingly male, and it is nice, Teyla knows, to simply sit and talk with one's sisters--but today she is a bit apprehensive, and toys with the teacup.
"The party last night," she begins.
Elizabeth smiles at the recollection of the gathering. "Did you enjoy it?"
It was a rather loud affair, dancing and food and people taking turns singing songs. Some better than others.
"It was," Teyla says guardedly, "interesting. The songs . . . "
"People got a little carried away with the karaoke, didn't they?" Elizabeth says. "What did you think of it?"
Odd, and frivolous, she thinks, and tries to think of a way to put it. "They were . . . " she starts, and then just decides on honesty; she and Elizabeth seldom stand on ceremony. "They are as the songs of children," she says.
Elizabeth frowns, not an angry frown, but the one where she just wants to understand more and so appears that she is trying to read people like writing that will give up its secrets if she puzzles over it.
"When my people sing," Teyla explains, "it is for death or love or hope against terrible odds. Many of the songs last night--they seemed . . . light," she finishes, for lack of a better word.
"Well," Elizabeth says dryly, although she is smiling, "I can see how Love Shack might not be considered the pinnacle of human musical expression," and explains how last night's party music would of necessity have skewed toward the lighthearted. "But much of Earth's music is more along the lines of what you've said Athosian songs are about. Most of the members of the expedition brought recordings of songs with them; I'm sure we could get you copies if you're interested."
"Thank you," Teyla says. If nothing else, it will perhaps help her understand these people a little better.
"And," Elizabeth adds, "I would love to hear some Athosian songs as well."
Teyla smiles. "We would be honored."
***
True to her word, the next time they meet Elizabeth has for her one of the white music players that many of the expedition's members carry.
"I've put copies of most of my music on it," Elizabeth says, "and put out the word that you're interested in other genres. I'm sure people would be happy to help."
That night, Teyla sits in her quarters and explores the iPod. She likes the drum-songs, beats moving and whirling like a fight, and the sound of a thin reedy instrument that soars like a bird, although much of Elizabeth's music is in languages that she cannot understand.
Much of the emotion comes through, though, and there are songs that make her think of springtime in her youth, green and bright and hopeful; one sounds much like a tune her father used to sing, and she plays it over and over again until the tears come.
***
"Heard you were looking for music," John says one day, and connects her player to his and transfers a sizeable collection. This, at least, is all in English--fast songs, of course, like John, flying and running through her ears--and then slower, sad songs of loss and sorrow.
On Athos, and indeed most of the worlds Teyla has visited, living under the threat of the Wraith means that a bonded couple tends to stay together until they are separated by the Wraith, something that happens all too often. To have a relationship sundered not by an enemy, but by the caprice of someone you loved . . . she understands a little better now how these people, who have grown and lived under no Wraith threat, can have such hardness behind their eyes.
***
They are on a mission, waiting in the puddlejumper for the Major and Ford to return, when Teyla says, "Doctor McKay, what is Compton?"
Rodney slaps a hand over his eyes so forcefully that Teyla's eyes widen in alarm. "Oh, my God," he says. "What did the marines give you?"
"The young men singing seem very angry," she says thoughtfully, "although I admit many of the references elude me."
That night, after they are safely back in Atlantis, Rodney shows up at her door with a laptop and proceeds to teach her what, as he says, the finer points of Earth music are.
Many of the songs he gives her do not have words, but he shows her pictures of the instruments and pantomimes how they are played--the trombone amuses her greatly--and although she'll never know the difference between a concerto and a cantata, she listens to them all hungrily, thinking what wonderful music it would be to meditate on, and how it is a shame that Rodney never will.
"Oh, and that last one," he says as he leaves, "don't, um, don't tell anyone you got that from me."
Teyla promises, although she cannot see why. Although she is faced with loss, the singer's heart will go on--it is a perfectly beautiful sentiment.
***
"So," Elizabeth says a few weeks later, "how are you finding the music?"
"I am enjoying it very much," Teyla says, taking the teacup. She has heard so many new songs over the last few weeks, songs of love and play and fighting your way through an unfair world; music of sorrow and loss and stories, songs about the gods and the worlds yet to come and how life is hard now but there is always hope. "I think I would enjoy visiting your world," she says. "You have so many things to sing for."