TITLE: Reavings
SUMMARY: Some ties are never known until the bindings are reft.
CATEGORY: angst, drama
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: Written in the
sg_rarepairings Fic Battle for the prompt "Teyla/John, without you I'm not okay." Posted here so the
sga_newsletter can actually put it in memories.
Reavings
Some ties are never known until the bindings are reft.
Teyla returns from another fruitless search for information about Michael's ship to Colonel Carter's solemnity, Ronon's tension.
"What is it?" The question hangs portentious in the air of the Gateroom.
They look at each other, but it's Colonel Carter who speaks. "Come and see."
The infirmary sheets glow palely in the rich browns and deep blues of the infirmary walls, and his hair is a light-sucking black over pale cheeks. Teyla lets her fingers curl around his wrist, a convulsive grip, as though she can keep him from the clutches of death.
The Wraith are not the only creatures who prey on humanity; only the most sentient and the most feared. On a planet empty of humanity, an exploring SG-team encountered the flesh-hungerers. They ran, ran, ran all the way to the Stargate, but John held the rearguard and paid for it in blood.
"We detached the creatures, stabilised him," Carson says, his eyes fulll of apology as he looks from Teyla to the patient. "We've done as much as we can, evened the odds against him. But it's up to him now."
In the silence after they have gone, one by one, Teyla looks at his face and feels the tenuous tremor of her soul's dwelling cut loose. The ropes that held her together are frayed and wearing, and the winds of turmoil tug fiercely at her canvas.
Teyla has been among the Lanteans long enough to know that sometimes the body dies for want of the will to live. She does not suppose that of John.
You must live.
It is not enough of a message to send a man who lies near death, with neither Iratus retrovirus nor Wraithgene to hear the thoughts she batters against the walls of her mind.
You must live, John. Without you...
She lost her people, and never looked at the man who backed her through her search. Others would have called it a loss and left her to seek alone; he anchored her hope.
She lost her lover, and never turned to the man whose hand stayed at her shoulder - a friend and a comfort in a time of grief.
She lost her son, and did not think that John, too, had sworn his protection to her and her child.
Now, he clings to life by little more than the anchorage of hope, a tie so fragile, so easily torn apart.
Teyla clings to that anchorage and prays it will not be riven from her.
- fin -
SUMMARY: Some ties are never known until the bindings are reft.
CATEGORY: angst, drama
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: Written in the
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Reavings
Some ties are never known until the bindings are reft.
Teyla returns from another fruitless search for information about Michael's ship to Colonel Carter's solemnity, Ronon's tension.
"What is it?" The question hangs portentious in the air of the Gateroom.
They look at each other, but it's Colonel Carter who speaks. "Come and see."
The infirmary sheets glow palely in the rich browns and deep blues of the infirmary walls, and his hair is a light-sucking black over pale cheeks. Teyla lets her fingers curl around his wrist, a convulsive grip, as though she can keep him from the clutches of death.
The Wraith are not the only creatures who prey on humanity; only the most sentient and the most feared. On a planet empty of humanity, an exploring SG-team encountered the flesh-hungerers. They ran, ran, ran all the way to the Stargate, but John held the rearguard and paid for it in blood.
"We detached the creatures, stabilised him," Carson says, his eyes fulll of apology as he looks from Teyla to the patient. "We've done as much as we can, evened the odds against him. But it's up to him now."
In the silence after they have gone, one by one, Teyla looks at his face and feels the tenuous tremor of her soul's dwelling cut loose. The ropes that held her together are frayed and wearing, and the winds of turmoil tug fiercely at her canvas.
Teyla has been among the Lanteans long enough to know that sometimes the body dies for want of the will to live. She does not suppose that of John.
You must live.
It is not enough of a message to send a man who lies near death, with neither Iratus retrovirus nor Wraithgene to hear the thoughts she batters against the walls of her mind.
You must live, John. Without you...
She lost her people, and never looked at the man who backed her through her search. Others would have called it a loss and left her to seek alone; he anchored her hope.
She lost her lover, and never turned to the man whose hand stayed at her shoulder - a friend and a comfort in a time of grief.
She lost her son, and did not think that John, too, had sworn his protection to her and her child.
Now, he clings to life by little more than the anchorage of hope, a tie so fragile, so easily torn apart.
Teyla clings to that anchorage and prays it will not be riven from her.
- fin -
Tags:
no subject
oh, teyla. oh,
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In times of tragedy, its easy to overlook those who stand by our sides, time after time. Now those who have protected, need it too.
Teyla has so much loss, I know John will be able to draw from her.
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love this piece btw...
no subject
oh, teyla. oh,
no subject
no subject
In times of tragedy, its easy to overlook those who stand by our sides, time after time. Now those who have protected, need it too.
Teyla has so much loss, I know John will be able to draw from her.
no subject
no subject
love this piece btw...