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TITLE: the weight of things unsaid
SUMMARY: Teyla leaves Atlantis and returns to her people.
CATEGORY: Angst
RATING: PG
WORDCOUNT: 640
PROMPT:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanfic100 prompt #024 - Family
NOTES: The second in the Five Last Kisses series. Although it might seem so, this isn't actually a continuance from the previous story Hello And Goodbye, it's intended as a completely separate vignette.
the weight of things unsaid
Silence has never had such weight between them.
Until now, silence between them always sat lightly, a comfort, not a burden.
Now, she walks beside him and wishes he would say something - approval or complaint, disagreement or joke, the weather or what has always stood between them unsaid.
She does not know what he thinks of her decision, although she knows the flows and currents of the talk around Atlantis.
...such a waste...all she's good for...wonder why they left it so late...who's going to be the father...
Rodney and Ronon have made their feelings clear enough. Ronon blends anger and resentment into sullen silence at her going, and Rodney is at a loss beyond the questioning of why she would want to do this.
It is not that she wants this for herself, but that she owes it to her people and those of her lineage who have gone before.
John has been accepting and calm, but with a reserve about him, as though he has retreated and what she speaks to is merely a shell.
She and her team-mates tread through the forest on their way to the encampment, damp leaf-mulch sticking to her feet. The items she is taking with her are packed in a suitcase which Ronon brings, all that she is taking with her from Atlantis - all that she is allowed to bring with her from Atlantis.
At the edge of the forest, they stop. The Athosian Council decreed it best that the severance begin beyond the camp and this is the designated edge. They may visit later on, but this first time, they may come no further.
Ronon silently hands over the suitcase, then envelops her in a hug that says all the things his voice will not. She hugs him tightly, then steps back.
Rodney is uncomfortable in embrace at first, not knowing where to put his hands, or how hard to squeeze. Then he relaxes, his shoulders sinking down. "You'll be back, won't you?"
Her laugh chokes on something too close to a sob.
And then she faces John, who doesn't seem to wish for the contact that the other two chose, but stands apart from her and bows his head.
Disappointment threatens, is swallowed. This is what must be between them, and it is best for all involved. The child she will bear for her people's sake will know him as a mentor of the heart and a hero of his people and hers. That will be enough.
It must be enough.
She touches her head to his, the tickle of his forelock against her hair, accepting his friendship and putting away what could not be. There is a relief in it, the comfort of a boundary-line, the knowledge that this far they may go and no farther.
Teyla lifts her head to look him in the eye and say farewell.
But John is not finished.
His lips descend on hers, a brief touch of open mouth to closed lips. The rough of his beard-shadow catches against her skin as her breath catches in her throat, and Teyla half opens her mouth on something like a moan. Then it is over, too brief and bittersweet, and the pant of his breath washes over her lips and cheek, and his nose brushes against her skin as he turns away, a secret caress.
This once, she sees his gaze naked - acceptance and regret that is mirrored in her heart.
And the promise that whatever man fathers her child, she is still counted as one of his people.
"Take care," John says, and his voice is soft and low and rough.
"Yes," she answers, and knows that control of her emotions elude her. "You, also."
Her gaze takes in the three of them - so precious to her - then she reaches for the handle of the suitcase, and begins the journey back to her people.
She does not turn around, but she knows they watch her go.
- fin -
SUMMARY: Teyla leaves Atlantis and returns to her people.
CATEGORY: Angst
RATING: PG
WORDCOUNT: 640
PROMPT:
fanfic100 prompt #024 - FamilyNOTES: The second in the Five Last Kisses series. Although it might seem so, this isn't actually a continuance from the previous story Hello And Goodbye, it's intended as a completely separate vignette.
the weight of things unsaid
Silence has never had such weight between them.
Until now, silence between them always sat lightly, a comfort, not a burden.
Now, she walks beside him and wishes he would say something - approval or complaint, disagreement or joke, the weather or what has always stood between them unsaid.
She does not know what he thinks of her decision, although she knows the flows and currents of the talk around Atlantis.
...such a waste...all she's good for...wonder why they left it so late...who's going to be the father...
Rodney and Ronon have made their feelings clear enough. Ronon blends anger and resentment into sullen silence at her going, and Rodney is at a loss beyond the questioning of why she would want to do this.
It is not that she wants this for herself, but that she owes it to her people and those of her lineage who have gone before.
John has been accepting and calm, but with a reserve about him, as though he has retreated and what she speaks to is merely a shell.
She and her team-mates tread through the forest on their way to the encampment, damp leaf-mulch sticking to her feet. The items she is taking with her are packed in a suitcase which Ronon brings, all that she is taking with her from Atlantis - all that she is allowed to bring with her from Atlantis.
At the edge of the forest, they stop. The Athosian Council decreed it best that the severance begin beyond the camp and this is the designated edge. They may visit later on, but this first time, they may come no further.
Ronon silently hands over the suitcase, then envelops her in a hug that says all the things his voice will not. She hugs him tightly, then steps back.
Rodney is uncomfortable in embrace at first, not knowing where to put his hands, or how hard to squeeze. Then he relaxes, his shoulders sinking down. "You'll be back, won't you?"
Her laugh chokes on something too close to a sob.
And then she faces John, who doesn't seem to wish for the contact that the other two chose, but stands apart from her and bows his head.
Disappointment threatens, is swallowed. This is what must be between them, and it is best for all involved. The child she will bear for her people's sake will know him as a mentor of the heart and a hero of his people and hers. That will be enough.
It must be enough.
She touches her head to his, the tickle of his forelock against her hair, accepting his friendship and putting away what could not be. There is a relief in it, the comfort of a boundary-line, the knowledge that this far they may go and no farther.
Teyla lifts her head to look him in the eye and say farewell.
But John is not finished.
His lips descend on hers, a brief touch of open mouth to closed lips. The rough of his beard-shadow catches against her skin as her breath catches in her throat, and Teyla half opens her mouth on something like a moan. Then it is over, too brief and bittersweet, and the pant of his breath washes over her lips and cheek, and his nose brushes against her skin as he turns away, a secret caress.
This once, she sees his gaze naked - acceptance and regret that is mirrored in her heart.
And the promise that whatever man fathers her child, she is still counted as one of his people.
"Take care," John says, and his voice is soft and low and rough.
"Yes," she answers, and knows that control of her emotions elude her. "You, also."
Her gaze takes in the three of them - so precious to her - then she reaches for the handle of the suitcase, and begins the journey back to her people.
She does not turn around, but she knows they watch her go.
- fin -
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