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TITLE: Holding The Centre
SUMMARY: He's not being abandoned. He just feels like he is.
CATEGORY: John & Teyla friendship, a leetle action, some drama, a touch of angst.
RATING: R - for swearing
SPOILERS: Takes place almost immediately after the events of Enemy At The Gates.
NOTES: I actually wanted to post this over a month ago, but couldn't get my act together. I'm still not quite balancing full-time work, a social life, and writing, so we'll see whether it gets finished. It's a complete story in and of itself, but I've left it open for more. Whether the 'more' is written...well, that's up to the muse and the readers.
Holding The Centre
The audience applauded the guitarist, a smattering of pattering palms out in the chilly breeze of San Francisco's Pier 39. Having gathered to watch the weekend's show in spite of the brisk January breeze, they dispersed as soon as the guitarist left the stage, heading for the warmer spaces inside the shops and arcades of San Francisco's biggest tourist trap.
"Now, isn't this better than sitting around in the city all day?"
John wasn't trying for sarcastic, but the sharp look Teyla shot him suggested he might have overdone the forced cheerfulness.
"More varied, perhaps," she said, her hands tucked in the deep pockets of the leather jacket she'd dug out from God knew where.
To anyone else, she would have sounded non-committal. To John, who knew her, she sounded slightly snippy. He held onto his temper, although the mood between them - like the wind - was distinctly chilly since he'd found her sitting with Lorne in the mess hall that morning, laughing over a shared anecdote that John was too late to hear.
"Hey, it's not about what I want to do. You're the tourist today."
She turned to survey the shops and people around them, her gaze resting thoughtfully on the people who milled about without any concept of a greater plan or universe beyond their skies. Still, when she turned back, her expression was opaque. "I was under the understanding that you had a plan for today."
"Well, you understood wrong. I thought that since we're on Earth, I could show you around for a bit."
"Ronon said you were planning to visit your brother," she said, turning her head to watch a twenty-something who wandered by in swathes of strappy black lace and frills that fluttered in the breeze. Her companion was similarly attired, only with more leather and less lace.
John wasn't sure whether to grin at the astonishment at the style, or to scowl at the mention of Dave. "I was. I am," he corrected himself. "But Dave's not free until the middle of next week. Until then, you're stuck with me."
Okay, so maybe that sounded more emphatic than it should have.
Yesterday, Keller had dragged Rodney off to meet her father, and all Rodney's protests had been useless against her winsomeness. They'd left in yesterday afternoon's departure group, and Rodney was already hyperventilating as he climbed into the boat taking them and an R&R group out to the city. John had quietly wished Keller good luck, and the woman gave him one of her funny little smiles. "He'll be fine once he stops thinking about it."
Ronon had been hanging out with Amelia Banks, whose first name John only remembered because Ronon said she'd been named after Amelia Earhart. Until she'd come in on him visiting Ronon, she'd just been 'Banks, one of the techies who works with Chuck.' Now, she was 'that woman who keeps hogging Ronon's time.'
Of course, Ronon didn't seem to mind Banks 'hogging his time' anymore than Rodney minded Keller 'hogging' his.
And that complicated things.
A year ago, John would have spent the time with Teyla without thought or concern. People would talk but they'd always talked since the first days of the expedition. Before she got pregnant - even during her pregnancy - things were easy between them, comfortable.
After she'd given birth, things had become difficult, complicated by the presence of Kanaan of Athos who'd made it clear enough that he and Teyla were together and neither John nor Ronon nor Rodney were necessary for her health or happiness.
John could understand the possessiveness, even if he disliked it. But what burned him was that Teyla always seemed okay with it. Oh, she attended 'team nights' when she was invited, but the presence of Kanaan was inhibiting, and John had stopped inviting Teyla to anything but the ones that were tradition from time immemorial.
He felt abandoned - not just by Teyla, but by Rodney and Ronon, too. Betrayed in turn by each of his team-mates as they drifted away from him and made other connections. He'd had them and they'd been his. Now they weren't his anymore.
Which was as juvenile as a kid throwing a tantrum because his friend had other friends with whom they wanted to spend time. Still, John's instincts screamed that he was being abandoned, even as his brain told him not to be a jerk.
"John?"
And the team-mate who he had the least right to claim as 'his', even in friendship, stood a few feet away. Teyla's brow arched in query as she regarded him, her head tilted to one side like one of the seagulls that perched hopefully on the railings around the piers, hoping for the scraps from some unsuspecting person's lunch.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Wool-gathering."
"Ah. That would be appropriate to your name."
"What's that supposed to--? Oh." It took him a moment to make the connection; his head felt woolly, fuzzy.
Teyla sighed.
"John, why did you ask me to come out if you did not want to be here?"
The question left him speechless as the wind sucked warmth from his body space. "I'm standing here, aren't I?"
"Only because neither Rodney or Ronon are here."
"You're worried that you're the consolation prize?"
"I am wondering why now."
Teyla regarded him with a calm expectant gaze that only made him feel like a cadet who'd done something stupid. He frowned down at her.
Why now? As compared to when? "Look, I just thought you haven't had much free time lately. And you're here on Earth, with time free until the IOA lets us go back to Pegasus, and I promised to take you around Earth when we finally had time..."
It was an old promise, made way back before the expedition first contacted Earth. Nobody would say that John had to keep this one, especially given how things have changed since then, but John had never forgotten that discussion with Teyla in the rec room, back when the Pegasus galaxy was all the future he could conceive.
"You have not denied that you would rather not be here," she said, facing him with her arms folded across her chest. The wind was tossing around the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail; her expression was carefully neutral.
Was she butthurt about it? He might have expected such an accusation from Rodney - but Teyla? John knew his shoulders stiffened; he could almost feel his muscles knotting under her gaze.
"I..."
It was complicated. When it came to Teyla, it was always complicated. But that wasn't something he could have said, even if he'd wanted to. And he hated these kinds of conversations - they never seemed to end well. But he had to say something. And fast.
"I want to be here."
The truth worked as well as anything.
"I want to be here, as well," she said after a moment. "But I want you to be here, too, John. I know you are disappointed that Rodney and Ronon were not available--"
"Wait. I'm not... You're not the consolation prize, Teyla!"
The cynicism of her arched brow heated his cheeks, sparked his anger.
"Why'd you come out if you thought I didn't want you around?"
She looked away towards a family of four - parents, nagging child and bored teenager, and her mouth twitched as an exasperated parent promised a reward for good behaviour and the girl promptly became winsomely attentive. When she looked back at John, she seemed tired. "Because I hoped otherwise."
He didn't know what to say to that.
It had become easier to exclude Teyla from his life, easier not to care. But easy wasn't the same as right. John had learned that a long time ago. He didn't know when he'd forgotten it with Teyla - maybe around the time she'd moved in with Kanaan?
He wasn't sure he liked what that said about him.
Teyla made a noise that might have been a sigh - the wind carried it away. "We can go back to the city, John. Or we can separate and meet up later if you would prefer. You do not need to babysit me; if I am not familiar with your ways, I am not a stranger to them."
"Look, Teyla..." John struggled to work out what to say, how to say it. "Look, Teyla, I'm sorry. I want to show you Earth. I do. Rodney and Ronon aren't important; this is...about us." He winced at the way that had come out, and felt the tips of his ears heating, even in the bitter wind. "I mean, not about us, but about...us."
It wasn't what he wanted to say, but Teyla was good at interpreting. He hoped she understood.
"About friendship?"
"Yeah, that." A long and awkward silence followed, during which John wondered if this was his fate - to mess up his relationships with the people closest to him, time and time again. "So, how about it?"
Her eyes followed a group of Sikh tourists, their turbans and heavy accents unlike that of any of the personnel on Atlantis, and John's head turned to watch them pass as well. Then she turned back to him, and the acceptance in her eyes was like the crash on the gateroom floor after a long, frantic run back to the Stargate: sheer relief at familiar ground.
"John?" Teyla waited a moment, until he gave her his complete attention. "Thank you for inviting me."
So maybe it wasn't an apology, but at least she seemed to have accepted the apology and the remedy.
"You're welcome." And although he was a bit more emphatic than he intended, he meant it.
It was a start; whether they'd make something solid of it during the day was something else.
--
It took them only an hour to case the two levels of Pier 39. It took John longer than that to screw up the courage to ask Teyla a question that had been bothering him for the last few days.
"So how serious is Banks about Ronon?"
Teyla glanced up from the racks of kids' clothing she'd been combing through, looking for something for Torran. "They have been interacting for some time - since Amelia's arrival in the city. She likes him."
"Sparring?"
"She needed a more advanced challenge than I could provide her at the time. This one?"
John took one look and optioned his powers of veto. "God, no." No namesake of his was going to be caught wearing a hot pink hoodie with a white 'SF' emblazoned across the front.
Teyla eyed him quizzically. "Because it is pink?"
"Uhh...I liked the black one." John chose prevarication. Even if Torran had been a girl, that shade of pink would be unforgivable. It would scar a child for life, no matter which galaxy or culture they were brought up in. "So, Ronon's been sparring with Banks for a while? What about actually...you know?"
"Actually, I do not know," Teyla said, frowning at the label, then shuffling over to make way for a yuppie couple busily involved in sneering at the tawdry nature of the souvenirs in the shop. The brief apologetic smile she shot at them was missed entirely by the woman, although the man glanced up at her and nodded...then took a second glance and smiled in a way that was probably meant to be charming.
John frowned a little and shifted in beside Teyla, pretending he was checking the label for washing instructions. In the corner of his eye, Mr. Charming frowned and moved on after his companion. John relaxed, then had to do a frantic rewind of the conversation to work out what they'd last been talking about. "You don't know?"
"Surprising though it might be, John, Ronon does not confide the details of his intimate life with me. I know it might be difficult for you to understand, since I struggle to believe that Rodney does not try to share the details of his relationship with Jennifer..."
"Emphasis on the word 'try.'"
The amused glance she angled up at him through her lashes was almost infuriating. "Do you la-la him with your hands over your ears?"
"No!"
The grin that flashed across her face suggested she didn't believe him.
Okay, so he'd only done it once, before Rodney told him he was being childish and shouldn't he know about these things having been married once before? John's attempt to point out that his marriage had ultimately failed had fallen on deaf ears. As far as Rodney was concerned, John having been married meant he was a font of wisdom - or at least, someone he could ask questions of - when it came to relationships.
Even questions that John really didn't want to answer - that implied things that John didn't need to know about Rodney's relationship with Keller.
"Look, I don't want to know the ins and outs of Rodney's relationship with Jennifer," he said, watching as she put the pink sweater back on the rack.
"And yet you are asking questions of Ronon's relationship?"
"I'm just wondering how serious it is."
"Amelia has spoken to me about Pegasus customs in relationships, and Ronon knows that nothing can be assumed. It will not be easy for them, but they are willing to try."
Teyla tucked the black hoodie under her arm. John made a note to someday tell Torran that he owed his infant dignity to his namesake.
"You're getting the black, then?"
"Yes."
They headed for the payment counter, John letting Teyla take the job of threading through the people, and keeping in close behind her. The wind had driven quite a few tourists indoors, and the room was filled with a cacophony of consultation.
"You know, Rodney would share the details of his relationship Jennifer with anyone who sat still for more than a minute in his company."
"He is Rodney," said Teyla. "I believe he would say it makes him a caring, sharing kind of guy."
"I don't have to point out the irony...?" John caught the sardonic glance Teyla flashed him over her shoulder. "Right."
"Do you have the credit card?"
"Hm? Oh."
John wasn't used to walking around with an ID and cards - Pegasus didn't exactly take American Express - but all Atlantis personnel had been issued with the necessary military ID and their credit and debit cards checked before any of them were allowed out of the city. Even Teyla had ID, although they'd handed her about two hundred in cash rather than a credit card. While nobody had explicitly said as much, it seemed to be more or less expected that John would be holding the purse strings for Teyla.
John suspected that Vala Mal Doran had been significant in the decision not to issue Teyla with a credit card. Although the two women were vastly different in personality, he doubted that the bureaucrats would see it that way. Alien women were alien women, after all.
As they waited at the counter, Teyla tapped the edge of the card by a tin of red, white, and blue political buttons going for a dollar each. John picked one out and studied the floating head on it with its bright, exclamatory text.
Teyla tilted his hand towards her so she could see the front of the button. "Evan said there are rumours we might attend the inauguration." She pronounced the word syllable by syllable, as though still working her mouth around the unfamiliar word. "I believe there is a dance?"
"Well, dance is...not quite the word. General O'Neill's negotiating it."
"It does not interest you?"
John shrugged. When you'd been to one soiree, you'd pretty much been to them all. He settled for just saying, "I'm not much into politics."
In fact, politics had been one more point of contention with his father. John didn't agree with his father's political views, which in Patrick Sheppard's eyes, was a crime against freedom, the American way of life, and their family's past. The fact that John wasn't entirely convinced by the alternative political views never registered with his father; there was Patrick Sheppard's way, or there was the highway.
As the shopgirl came around to serve them, John changed the topic, following up a thought that had struck him not just now but earlier this morning.
"You and Lorne seem...friendly."
After discovering Rodney and Ronon already had plans, John had gone looking for Teyla. Since both Torran and Kanaan had remained in Pegasus when Atlantis came to Earth's rescue, he'd expected to find her at a loose end. Instead, he'd found her sitting with Lorne in the mess hall, looking almost as though she was flirting with the subordinate officer.
"Yes," she said after a quick smile at the shopgirl as she handed over the credit card. "His sister has sons, so he is good with Torran."
For a moment, John wondered if that was a criticism, but Teyla wasn't looking his way.
"He would make a good father," she said, sounding reflective as she regarded the card-reader. "It is a pity..."
"What?"
She glanced up. "Your work makes it difficult for people to have a life beyond the city."
It wasn't what she'd been going to say, and John was about to say as much when the shopgirl asked for a PIN or a signature. It took him a moment to remember the PIN he'd been given for the card, especially when his thoughts were distracted. He was pretty sure Teyla had changed what she was going to say.
"Playing matchmaker?"
Teyla shrugged, and her tone matched his false lightness. "Perhaps. Evan enjoys his work, but...it can be lonely, too." John's stomach twisted a little as she looked up at him with dark eyes that saw too much. "You must feel that, also."
She didn't seem to need a response as the shopgirl handed over the bag. John shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and tried not to think about Rodney and Keller, Ronon and Banks, Teyla and Kanaan...
It had never bothered him before this. He'd had his friends and he'd had his flying and he'd had Atlantis and his team-mates. But now his team-mates were with other people, and while they were still his friends, their time was divided.
Only John was left alone.
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold.
Which was a stupid quote to pop into his head at this moment - thing were holding together just fine. Okay, so maybe not fine, but okay. They were still a team, and John would learn to live his friends' romantic relationships.
He'd learned to live with Teyla's relationship with Kanaan. After that, he could manage anything.
The chain of bells tinkled lightly against the glass pane as they pushed out into the gusting wind. "Anything else you feel the need to see or do?"
She was considering the question when an outraged shout wavered in the wind.
"Help! Someone, help!"
Further along the line of shops, John spotted a knotted cluster of people clumping together, clutching at a woman who seemed to have fallen down. From that knot, a single thread sped out, young and blond, the gun in his hand waved threateningly in the faces of anyone who even thought about moving into his path.
Nobody did. They were tourists, not soldiers, and a casually-waved gun wasn't a risk that they wanted to take - not for a handbag. Possessions were replaceable; people weren't.
Teyla knew that. Or should have.
He'd always known she moved fast - the memory of old bruises attested to his intimate knowledge of just how fast she could move when she put her mind to it. Somehow, she seemed even faster on Earth.
As the thief drew level with them, Teyla stepped out of the crowd. The blond head turned, eyes wild, and the gun swung, but Teyla was already in his space, twisting his arm as she turned on the balls of her feet with his hand gripped firmly in her hands to point the gun down at the ground.
It was like a dance in the middle of the pier, deadly and graceful as a ninja. But a moment later, the gun had clattered to the ground and the man's cheek was kissing the rough wooden decking of the pier as Teyla leaned gently on his back to stop him getting up.
The stolen handbag tumbled a few feet away.
It was as neat a disarming as John had ever seen or had done to him in the Atlantis sparring room.
Around them, the crowd was staring, gape-mouthed.
John picked up the shopping bag Teyla had dropped with one hand, and picked up the purloined handbag with the other. It was a monster of a thing: fake black crocodile skin with more buckles and studs like a bikie's vest and weighed a ton. He nearly strained a muscle lifting it. Did the woman keep everything in her handbag?
He moved over to the gun and carefully toed it away from the thief's hand. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave a weapon within reach when the guy was still struggling.
As he glanced up, a uniformed security guard came up from the lower end of the wharf.
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
Teyla smiled briefly. "I am fine, thank you, officer."
The guard paused in the act of kneeling down to take stock of the thief. "I'm not an officer, ma'am." His expression was slightly surprised at her mistake. But as the thief writhed a moment later, his eyes turned hard.
"Fuck you, bitch! I wasn't doing anything! This is police abuse."
Teyla arched a brow at John who shrugged, rolling his eyes.
A snort from the guard made short work of that threat. "Yeah, sure thing. If she was police. You, young man, are in all kinds of trouble."
"Trouble? Fucking bitch should be up for fucking assault! I know my rights! Fucking cunt!"
John figured it was just as well that Teyla wasn't familiar with the term, although she was quite capable of interpreting the meaning from the thief's tone. Her reaction was a raised eyebrow and a twitch of the mouth.
The guard grimaced. "Sorry about his language."
"It is a little...colourful," she said mildly, although her eyes glittered.
"Fuck you! Let me up, you fucking bitch, and I'll fucking show you a real fucking man..."
The diatribe vanished in a gurgling wheeze as Teyla leaned forward slightly, her knee increasing the pressure on his kidneys.
"You are between my thighs already," she said sweetly. "Are you not enjoying the experience?"
John blinked, a few of the bystanders guffawed, and the guard coughed, struggling to hide a laugh. "Lady, uh, I think that's enough. We're grateful for your intervention, although it wasn't smart to put yourself in danger. You'd better hand him over to me. And we'll need you for a statement when the police come..."
Behind them, a small commotion was bustling up the pier. A rather large lady in an incongruously blue cardigan bustled up, out of breath. "Oh, thank you so much!" She said to John as she reclaimed her handbag, never even blinking at the unreasonable weight of it. "It was so silly, I was just transferring it from my shoulder, and the next thing, he shoved me down on the ground and had my purse."
Her stout, plain husband hovered silently at her elbow, but most of his gaze was directed admiringly at Teyla, who was ignoring the thief's abuses and holding his hands in place so the security guard could cuff them.
If she'd needed help, John would have offered, but she had the thief well under control.
Although John would be having a conversation with her about judging dangerous situations on Earth. She'd been lucky. Skilled, yes, but lucky, too.
"Uh, Mr...?"
"Sheppard," he told the balding security guard who'd come up with the lady and her husband. "Colonel Sheppard." When someone said 'Mr. Sheppard' he always turned around and looked for his father.
"Oh, which military?"
"Air Force."
Something like envy gleamed in the guard's eyes, a new respect. "Uh, well, sir, we'll need you and the lady to come over to the security office and make a statement about the theft."
His tilt of the head indicated Teyla who was being gushed over by the tourists. John bit back a smile. He'd seen Teyla face Wraith Queens and Genii rebels with composure, and manage recalcitrant leaders and reluctant traders with tact and charm. That she should be thrown off by the effusive thanks of a couple of middle-aged tourists amused him.
"How long will it take?"
"Oh, fifteen minutes, half an hour. The cops should be around soon. If you're going to stick in the area for a couple of hours we can just hold him for the moment and you can keep walking about. No need to interrupt your day..."
"Teyla," he said, raising his voice over the woman's story of how her son came to be in the military. Apparently she had overheard John talking to the security guard, or Teyla had explained the cover story job they'd set up for her and Ronon - special forces instructors in hand-to-hand and infiltration. "Excuse me, ma'am. Teyla, they want us for a statement."
"A statement?" He saw the processing taking place in her mind as she tried to make sense of the word. It didn't take long; she'd seen enough Earth TV to drive any alien insane. "Do they need us now?"
"When the police come." John said. "Could be a few minutes, could be an hour."
"Oh, you must come and have lunch with us," gushed the lady. "We've only been here a day and we don't know anyone in town, and with just Dirk and me, it's not that exciting, but with a couple of young people, it would be wonderful."
Teyla and John exchanged looks.
"That is very nice of you--" Teyla began.
"Wonderful! Then if you'll just wait here a minute, I really must visit the restrooms - all this excitement is really not the best..." The phrase 'under full steam' came to mind as the woman headed for the security guards and the young man being dragged up between them, probably to inform them that she'd be along shortly.
Teyla turned to John. "I was going to refuse her."
The chuckle that rose from the stumpy man on the other side of Teyla was good-humoured. "Best just sit back and let Sandra do as she's decided she'll do, miss. After thirty years, I still haven't managed more than a word at a time. Besides, what's lunch when you just saved her bag?"
"That is thoughtful of you, but--"
"Do you have plans already?"
The old man had directness on his side and he used it like a hard jab in the balls. It left you slightly winded. John exchanged a look with Teyla. "Not really," he admitted. "But it's not necessary."
"Neither was this vacation," he said, his eyes twinkling behind the sun-worn creases and lines of his face. "But it's been more excitement than me and Sandra've had in twenty years. An adventure, eh?"
Considering that his life was one big adventure, John thought that sometimes there was something to be said for a few moments where he didn't have to save the world, shoulder the responsibility of Atlantis' military, look after Teyla while she was on Earth, and manage the situation all by himself. It would be a relief to let someone else take control for a while - even if it was only for something as innocuous as lunch.
And lunch with this couple would provide Teyla with a personal experience of ordinary people from Earth, rather than the people involved in the Stargate program - not one of who could be classified as 'ordinary' simply by dint of the fact that they'd made it into the program in the first place.
"An adventure," he agreed. "I think we can spare an hour for lunch, right, Teyla?"
Her smile was sincere when it turned to Dirk and accepted the invitation of lunch, but when she turned back to John, it was quite clear she thought he'd taken leave of his senses.
John just grinned.
As they headed for the security office, with Dirk quizzing Teyla on her background, John told himself this counted as 'showing Teyla around Earth' - with perhaps just a little help.
It would be something solid - a start towards rebuilding something he felt he was losing, even if he wasn't.
John fell into step beside her, all the way to the security office.
--
SUMMARY: He's not being abandoned. He just feels like he is.
CATEGORY: John & Teyla friendship, a leetle action, some drama, a touch of angst.
RATING: R - for swearing
SPOILERS: Takes place almost immediately after the events of Enemy At The Gates.
NOTES: I actually wanted to post this over a month ago, but couldn't get my act together. I'm still not quite balancing full-time work, a social life, and writing, so we'll see whether it gets finished. It's a complete story in and of itself, but I've left it open for more. Whether the 'more' is written...well, that's up to the muse and the readers.
Holding The Centre
The audience applauded the guitarist, a smattering of pattering palms out in the chilly breeze of San Francisco's Pier 39. Having gathered to watch the weekend's show in spite of the brisk January breeze, they dispersed as soon as the guitarist left the stage, heading for the warmer spaces inside the shops and arcades of San Francisco's biggest tourist trap.
"Now, isn't this better than sitting around in the city all day?"
John wasn't trying for sarcastic, but the sharp look Teyla shot him suggested he might have overdone the forced cheerfulness.
"More varied, perhaps," she said, her hands tucked in the deep pockets of the leather jacket she'd dug out from God knew where.
To anyone else, she would have sounded non-committal. To John, who knew her, she sounded slightly snippy. He held onto his temper, although the mood between them - like the wind - was distinctly chilly since he'd found her sitting with Lorne in the mess hall that morning, laughing over a shared anecdote that John was too late to hear.
"Hey, it's not about what I want to do. You're the tourist today."
She turned to survey the shops and people around them, her gaze resting thoughtfully on the people who milled about without any concept of a greater plan or universe beyond their skies. Still, when she turned back, her expression was opaque. "I was under the understanding that you had a plan for today."
"Well, you understood wrong. I thought that since we're on Earth, I could show you around for a bit."
"Ronon said you were planning to visit your brother," she said, turning her head to watch a twenty-something who wandered by in swathes of strappy black lace and frills that fluttered in the breeze. Her companion was similarly attired, only with more leather and less lace.
John wasn't sure whether to grin at the astonishment at the style, or to scowl at the mention of Dave. "I was. I am," he corrected himself. "But Dave's not free until the middle of next week. Until then, you're stuck with me."
Okay, so maybe that sounded more emphatic than it should have.
Yesterday, Keller had dragged Rodney off to meet her father, and all Rodney's protests had been useless against her winsomeness. They'd left in yesterday afternoon's departure group, and Rodney was already hyperventilating as he climbed into the boat taking them and an R&R group out to the city. John had quietly wished Keller good luck, and the woman gave him one of her funny little smiles. "He'll be fine once he stops thinking about it."
Ronon had been hanging out with Amelia Banks, whose first name John only remembered because Ronon said she'd been named after Amelia Earhart. Until she'd come in on him visiting Ronon, she'd just been 'Banks, one of the techies who works with Chuck.' Now, she was 'that woman who keeps hogging Ronon's time.'
Of course, Ronon didn't seem to mind Banks 'hogging his time' anymore than Rodney minded Keller 'hogging' his.
And that complicated things.
A year ago, John would have spent the time with Teyla without thought or concern. People would talk but they'd always talked since the first days of the expedition. Before she got pregnant - even during her pregnancy - things were easy between them, comfortable.
After she'd given birth, things had become difficult, complicated by the presence of Kanaan of Athos who'd made it clear enough that he and Teyla were together and neither John nor Ronon nor Rodney were necessary for her health or happiness.
John could understand the possessiveness, even if he disliked it. But what burned him was that Teyla always seemed okay with it. Oh, she attended 'team nights' when she was invited, but the presence of Kanaan was inhibiting, and John had stopped inviting Teyla to anything but the ones that were tradition from time immemorial.
He felt abandoned - not just by Teyla, but by Rodney and Ronon, too. Betrayed in turn by each of his team-mates as they drifted away from him and made other connections. He'd had them and they'd been his. Now they weren't his anymore.
Which was as juvenile as a kid throwing a tantrum because his friend had other friends with whom they wanted to spend time. Still, John's instincts screamed that he was being abandoned, even as his brain told him not to be a jerk.
"John?"
And the team-mate who he had the least right to claim as 'his', even in friendship, stood a few feet away. Teyla's brow arched in query as she regarded him, her head tilted to one side like one of the seagulls that perched hopefully on the railings around the piers, hoping for the scraps from some unsuspecting person's lunch.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Wool-gathering."
"Ah. That would be appropriate to your name."
"What's that supposed to--? Oh." It took him a moment to make the connection; his head felt woolly, fuzzy.
Teyla sighed.
"John, why did you ask me to come out if you did not want to be here?"
The question left him speechless as the wind sucked warmth from his body space. "I'm standing here, aren't I?"
"Only because neither Rodney or Ronon are here."
"You're worried that you're the consolation prize?"
"I am wondering why now."
Teyla regarded him with a calm expectant gaze that only made him feel like a cadet who'd done something stupid. He frowned down at her.
Why now? As compared to when? "Look, I just thought you haven't had much free time lately. And you're here on Earth, with time free until the IOA lets us go back to Pegasus, and I promised to take you around Earth when we finally had time..."
It was an old promise, made way back before the expedition first contacted Earth. Nobody would say that John had to keep this one, especially given how things have changed since then, but John had never forgotten that discussion with Teyla in the rec room, back when the Pegasus galaxy was all the future he could conceive.
"You have not denied that you would rather not be here," she said, facing him with her arms folded across her chest. The wind was tossing around the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail; her expression was carefully neutral.
Was she butthurt about it? He might have expected such an accusation from Rodney - but Teyla? John knew his shoulders stiffened; he could almost feel his muscles knotting under her gaze.
"I..."
It was complicated. When it came to Teyla, it was always complicated. But that wasn't something he could have said, even if he'd wanted to. And he hated these kinds of conversations - they never seemed to end well. But he had to say something. And fast.
"I want to be here."
The truth worked as well as anything.
"I want to be here, as well," she said after a moment. "But I want you to be here, too, John. I know you are disappointed that Rodney and Ronon were not available--"
"Wait. I'm not... You're not the consolation prize, Teyla!"
The cynicism of her arched brow heated his cheeks, sparked his anger.
"Why'd you come out if you thought I didn't want you around?"
She looked away towards a family of four - parents, nagging child and bored teenager, and her mouth twitched as an exasperated parent promised a reward for good behaviour and the girl promptly became winsomely attentive. When she looked back at John, she seemed tired. "Because I hoped otherwise."
He didn't know what to say to that.
It had become easier to exclude Teyla from his life, easier not to care. But easy wasn't the same as right. John had learned that a long time ago. He didn't know when he'd forgotten it with Teyla - maybe around the time she'd moved in with Kanaan?
He wasn't sure he liked what that said about him.
Teyla made a noise that might have been a sigh - the wind carried it away. "We can go back to the city, John. Or we can separate and meet up later if you would prefer. You do not need to babysit me; if I am not familiar with your ways, I am not a stranger to them."
"Look, Teyla..." John struggled to work out what to say, how to say it. "Look, Teyla, I'm sorry. I want to show you Earth. I do. Rodney and Ronon aren't important; this is...about us." He winced at the way that had come out, and felt the tips of his ears heating, even in the bitter wind. "I mean, not about us, but about...us."
It wasn't what he wanted to say, but Teyla was good at interpreting. He hoped she understood.
"About friendship?"
"Yeah, that." A long and awkward silence followed, during which John wondered if this was his fate - to mess up his relationships with the people closest to him, time and time again. "So, how about it?"
Her eyes followed a group of Sikh tourists, their turbans and heavy accents unlike that of any of the personnel on Atlantis, and John's head turned to watch them pass as well. Then she turned back to him, and the acceptance in her eyes was like the crash on the gateroom floor after a long, frantic run back to the Stargate: sheer relief at familiar ground.
"John?" Teyla waited a moment, until he gave her his complete attention. "Thank you for inviting me."
So maybe it wasn't an apology, but at least she seemed to have accepted the apology and the remedy.
"You're welcome." And although he was a bit more emphatic than he intended, he meant it.
It was a start; whether they'd make something solid of it during the day was something else.
--
It took them only an hour to case the two levels of Pier 39. It took John longer than that to screw up the courage to ask Teyla a question that had been bothering him for the last few days.
"So how serious is Banks about Ronon?"
Teyla glanced up from the racks of kids' clothing she'd been combing through, looking for something for Torran. "They have been interacting for some time - since Amelia's arrival in the city. She likes him."
"Sparring?"
"She needed a more advanced challenge than I could provide her at the time. This one?"
John took one look and optioned his powers of veto. "God, no." No namesake of his was going to be caught wearing a hot pink hoodie with a white 'SF' emblazoned across the front.
Teyla eyed him quizzically. "Because it is pink?"
"Uhh...I liked the black one." John chose prevarication. Even if Torran had been a girl, that shade of pink would be unforgivable. It would scar a child for life, no matter which galaxy or culture they were brought up in. "So, Ronon's been sparring with Banks for a while? What about actually...you know?"
"Actually, I do not know," Teyla said, frowning at the label, then shuffling over to make way for a yuppie couple busily involved in sneering at the tawdry nature of the souvenirs in the shop. The brief apologetic smile she shot at them was missed entirely by the woman, although the man glanced up at her and nodded...then took a second glance and smiled in a way that was probably meant to be charming.
John frowned a little and shifted in beside Teyla, pretending he was checking the label for washing instructions. In the corner of his eye, Mr. Charming frowned and moved on after his companion. John relaxed, then had to do a frantic rewind of the conversation to work out what they'd last been talking about. "You don't know?"
"Surprising though it might be, John, Ronon does not confide the details of his intimate life with me. I know it might be difficult for you to understand, since I struggle to believe that Rodney does not try to share the details of his relationship with Jennifer..."
"Emphasis on the word 'try.'"
The amused glance she angled up at him through her lashes was almost infuriating. "Do you la-la him with your hands over your ears?"
"No!"
The grin that flashed across her face suggested she didn't believe him.
Okay, so he'd only done it once, before Rodney told him he was being childish and shouldn't he know about these things having been married once before? John's attempt to point out that his marriage had ultimately failed had fallen on deaf ears. As far as Rodney was concerned, John having been married meant he was a font of wisdom - or at least, someone he could ask questions of - when it came to relationships.
Even questions that John really didn't want to answer - that implied things that John didn't need to know about Rodney's relationship with Keller.
"Look, I don't want to know the ins and outs of Rodney's relationship with Jennifer," he said, watching as she put the pink sweater back on the rack.
"And yet you are asking questions of Ronon's relationship?"
"I'm just wondering how serious it is."
"Amelia has spoken to me about Pegasus customs in relationships, and Ronon knows that nothing can be assumed. It will not be easy for them, but they are willing to try."
Teyla tucked the black hoodie under her arm. John made a note to someday tell Torran that he owed his infant dignity to his namesake.
"You're getting the black, then?"
"Yes."
They headed for the payment counter, John letting Teyla take the job of threading through the people, and keeping in close behind her. The wind had driven quite a few tourists indoors, and the room was filled with a cacophony of consultation.
"You know, Rodney would share the details of his relationship Jennifer with anyone who sat still for more than a minute in his company."
"He is Rodney," said Teyla. "I believe he would say it makes him a caring, sharing kind of guy."
"I don't have to point out the irony...?" John caught the sardonic glance Teyla flashed him over her shoulder. "Right."
"Do you have the credit card?"
"Hm? Oh."
John wasn't used to walking around with an ID and cards - Pegasus didn't exactly take American Express - but all Atlantis personnel had been issued with the necessary military ID and their credit and debit cards checked before any of them were allowed out of the city. Even Teyla had ID, although they'd handed her about two hundred in cash rather than a credit card. While nobody had explicitly said as much, it seemed to be more or less expected that John would be holding the purse strings for Teyla.
John suspected that Vala Mal Doran had been significant in the decision not to issue Teyla with a credit card. Although the two women were vastly different in personality, he doubted that the bureaucrats would see it that way. Alien women were alien women, after all.
As they waited at the counter, Teyla tapped the edge of the card by a tin of red, white, and blue political buttons going for a dollar each. John picked one out and studied the floating head on it with its bright, exclamatory text.
Teyla tilted his hand towards her so she could see the front of the button. "Evan said there are rumours we might attend the inauguration." She pronounced the word syllable by syllable, as though still working her mouth around the unfamiliar word. "I believe there is a dance?"
"Well, dance is...not quite the word. General O'Neill's negotiating it."
"It does not interest you?"
John shrugged. When you'd been to one soiree, you'd pretty much been to them all. He settled for just saying, "I'm not much into politics."
In fact, politics had been one more point of contention with his father. John didn't agree with his father's political views, which in Patrick Sheppard's eyes, was a crime against freedom, the American way of life, and their family's past. The fact that John wasn't entirely convinced by the alternative political views never registered with his father; there was Patrick Sheppard's way, or there was the highway.
As the shopgirl came around to serve them, John changed the topic, following up a thought that had struck him not just now but earlier this morning.
"You and Lorne seem...friendly."
After discovering Rodney and Ronon already had plans, John had gone looking for Teyla. Since both Torran and Kanaan had remained in Pegasus when Atlantis came to Earth's rescue, he'd expected to find her at a loose end. Instead, he'd found her sitting with Lorne in the mess hall, looking almost as though she was flirting with the subordinate officer.
"Yes," she said after a quick smile at the shopgirl as she handed over the credit card. "His sister has sons, so he is good with Torran."
For a moment, John wondered if that was a criticism, but Teyla wasn't looking his way.
"He would make a good father," she said, sounding reflective as she regarded the card-reader. "It is a pity..."
"What?"
She glanced up. "Your work makes it difficult for people to have a life beyond the city."
It wasn't what she'd been going to say, and John was about to say as much when the shopgirl asked for a PIN or a signature. It took him a moment to remember the PIN he'd been given for the card, especially when his thoughts were distracted. He was pretty sure Teyla had changed what she was going to say.
"Playing matchmaker?"
Teyla shrugged, and her tone matched his false lightness. "Perhaps. Evan enjoys his work, but...it can be lonely, too." John's stomach twisted a little as she looked up at him with dark eyes that saw too much. "You must feel that, also."
She didn't seem to need a response as the shopgirl handed over the bag. John shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and tried not to think about Rodney and Keller, Ronon and Banks, Teyla and Kanaan...
It had never bothered him before this. He'd had his friends and he'd had his flying and he'd had Atlantis and his team-mates. But now his team-mates were with other people, and while they were still his friends, their time was divided.
Only John was left alone.
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold.
Which was a stupid quote to pop into his head at this moment - thing were holding together just fine. Okay, so maybe not fine, but okay. They were still a team, and John would learn to live his friends' romantic relationships.
He'd learned to live with Teyla's relationship with Kanaan. After that, he could manage anything.
The chain of bells tinkled lightly against the glass pane as they pushed out into the gusting wind. "Anything else you feel the need to see or do?"
She was considering the question when an outraged shout wavered in the wind.
"Help! Someone, help!"
Further along the line of shops, John spotted a knotted cluster of people clumping together, clutching at a woman who seemed to have fallen down. From that knot, a single thread sped out, young and blond, the gun in his hand waved threateningly in the faces of anyone who even thought about moving into his path.
Nobody did. They were tourists, not soldiers, and a casually-waved gun wasn't a risk that they wanted to take - not for a handbag. Possessions were replaceable; people weren't.
Teyla knew that. Or should have.
He'd always known she moved fast - the memory of old bruises attested to his intimate knowledge of just how fast she could move when she put her mind to it. Somehow, she seemed even faster on Earth.
As the thief drew level with them, Teyla stepped out of the crowd. The blond head turned, eyes wild, and the gun swung, but Teyla was already in his space, twisting his arm as she turned on the balls of her feet with his hand gripped firmly in her hands to point the gun down at the ground.
It was like a dance in the middle of the pier, deadly and graceful as a ninja. But a moment later, the gun had clattered to the ground and the man's cheek was kissing the rough wooden decking of the pier as Teyla leaned gently on his back to stop him getting up.
The stolen handbag tumbled a few feet away.
It was as neat a disarming as John had ever seen or had done to him in the Atlantis sparring room.
Around them, the crowd was staring, gape-mouthed.
John picked up the shopping bag Teyla had dropped with one hand, and picked up the purloined handbag with the other. It was a monster of a thing: fake black crocodile skin with more buckles and studs like a bikie's vest and weighed a ton. He nearly strained a muscle lifting it. Did the woman keep everything in her handbag?
He moved over to the gun and carefully toed it away from the thief's hand. It probably wasn't a good idea to leave a weapon within reach when the guy was still struggling.
As he glanced up, a uniformed security guard came up from the lower end of the wharf.
"Are you okay, ma'am?"
Teyla smiled briefly. "I am fine, thank you, officer."
The guard paused in the act of kneeling down to take stock of the thief. "I'm not an officer, ma'am." His expression was slightly surprised at her mistake. But as the thief writhed a moment later, his eyes turned hard.
"Fuck you, bitch! I wasn't doing anything! This is police abuse."
Teyla arched a brow at John who shrugged, rolling his eyes.
A snort from the guard made short work of that threat. "Yeah, sure thing. If she was police. You, young man, are in all kinds of trouble."
"Trouble? Fucking bitch should be up for fucking assault! I know my rights! Fucking cunt!"
John figured it was just as well that Teyla wasn't familiar with the term, although she was quite capable of interpreting the meaning from the thief's tone. Her reaction was a raised eyebrow and a twitch of the mouth.
The guard grimaced. "Sorry about his language."
"It is a little...colourful," she said mildly, although her eyes glittered.
"Fuck you! Let me up, you fucking bitch, and I'll fucking show you a real fucking man..."
The diatribe vanished in a gurgling wheeze as Teyla leaned forward slightly, her knee increasing the pressure on his kidneys.
"You are between my thighs already," she said sweetly. "Are you not enjoying the experience?"
John blinked, a few of the bystanders guffawed, and the guard coughed, struggling to hide a laugh. "Lady, uh, I think that's enough. We're grateful for your intervention, although it wasn't smart to put yourself in danger. You'd better hand him over to me. And we'll need you for a statement when the police come..."
Behind them, a small commotion was bustling up the pier. A rather large lady in an incongruously blue cardigan bustled up, out of breath. "Oh, thank you so much!" She said to John as she reclaimed her handbag, never even blinking at the unreasonable weight of it. "It was so silly, I was just transferring it from my shoulder, and the next thing, he shoved me down on the ground and had my purse."
Her stout, plain husband hovered silently at her elbow, but most of his gaze was directed admiringly at Teyla, who was ignoring the thief's abuses and holding his hands in place so the security guard could cuff them.
If she'd needed help, John would have offered, but she had the thief well under control.
Although John would be having a conversation with her about judging dangerous situations on Earth. She'd been lucky. Skilled, yes, but lucky, too.
"Uh, Mr...?"
"Sheppard," he told the balding security guard who'd come up with the lady and her husband. "Colonel Sheppard." When someone said 'Mr. Sheppard' he always turned around and looked for his father.
"Oh, which military?"
"Air Force."
Something like envy gleamed in the guard's eyes, a new respect. "Uh, well, sir, we'll need you and the lady to come over to the security office and make a statement about the theft."
His tilt of the head indicated Teyla who was being gushed over by the tourists. John bit back a smile. He'd seen Teyla face Wraith Queens and Genii rebels with composure, and manage recalcitrant leaders and reluctant traders with tact and charm. That she should be thrown off by the effusive thanks of a couple of middle-aged tourists amused him.
"How long will it take?"
"Oh, fifteen minutes, half an hour. The cops should be around soon. If you're going to stick in the area for a couple of hours we can just hold him for the moment and you can keep walking about. No need to interrupt your day..."
"Teyla," he said, raising his voice over the woman's story of how her son came to be in the military. Apparently she had overheard John talking to the security guard, or Teyla had explained the cover story job they'd set up for her and Ronon - special forces instructors in hand-to-hand and infiltration. "Excuse me, ma'am. Teyla, they want us for a statement."
"A statement?" He saw the processing taking place in her mind as she tried to make sense of the word. It didn't take long; she'd seen enough Earth TV to drive any alien insane. "Do they need us now?"
"When the police come." John said. "Could be a few minutes, could be an hour."
"Oh, you must come and have lunch with us," gushed the lady. "We've only been here a day and we don't know anyone in town, and with just Dirk and me, it's not that exciting, but with a couple of young people, it would be wonderful."
Teyla and John exchanged looks.
"That is very nice of you--" Teyla began.
"Wonderful! Then if you'll just wait here a minute, I really must visit the restrooms - all this excitement is really not the best..." The phrase 'under full steam' came to mind as the woman headed for the security guards and the young man being dragged up between them, probably to inform them that she'd be along shortly.
Teyla turned to John. "I was going to refuse her."
The chuckle that rose from the stumpy man on the other side of Teyla was good-humoured. "Best just sit back and let Sandra do as she's decided she'll do, miss. After thirty years, I still haven't managed more than a word at a time. Besides, what's lunch when you just saved her bag?"
"That is thoughtful of you, but--"
"Do you have plans already?"
The old man had directness on his side and he used it like a hard jab in the balls. It left you slightly winded. John exchanged a look with Teyla. "Not really," he admitted. "But it's not necessary."
"Neither was this vacation," he said, his eyes twinkling behind the sun-worn creases and lines of his face. "But it's been more excitement than me and Sandra've had in twenty years. An adventure, eh?"
Considering that his life was one big adventure, John thought that sometimes there was something to be said for a few moments where he didn't have to save the world, shoulder the responsibility of Atlantis' military, look after Teyla while she was on Earth, and manage the situation all by himself. It would be a relief to let someone else take control for a while - even if it was only for something as innocuous as lunch.
And lunch with this couple would provide Teyla with a personal experience of ordinary people from Earth, rather than the people involved in the Stargate program - not one of who could be classified as 'ordinary' simply by dint of the fact that they'd made it into the program in the first place.
"An adventure," he agreed. "I think we can spare an hour for lunch, right, Teyla?"
Her smile was sincere when it turned to Dirk and accepted the invitation of lunch, but when she turned back to John, it was quite clear she thought he'd taken leave of his senses.
John just grinned.
As they headed for the security office, with Dirk quizzing Teyla on her background, John told himself this counted as 'showing Teyla around Earth' - with perhaps just a little help.
It would be something solid - a start towards rebuilding something he felt he was losing, even if he wasn't.
John fell into step beside her, all the way to the security office.
--
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I really enjoyed this one. It made me smile on kind of a crappy day.
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They'll grow more comfy with each other in the next section.