Disclaimer: Keep in mind this is my first Stargate fic. ever. I'm more of a reader than a writer for the fandom and am doing this mostly because I read so much of your stuff, it's only fair to give back -- however pathetic. *Deep breath* Here it is.
******
John crept onto the balcony just before the dawn's light could peak over the horizon.
It was his favorite time of day and was worth the twenty minutes of tossing in bed he lost to be able to see it. When the expedition first arrived -- unsure of what lied ahead in this entirely new galaxy -- seeing the hues of gold and pink and orange slowly flood the city, which then sparkled like stars after emerging from the sea, had answered any question in John's mind about the journey being worth the trip.
"It's beauty never fades, does it?"
John turned at the sound of her voice. He'd thought he was alone.
"No, it doesn't."
She sat curled up on the bench, a large mug in her hands. He could smell the musky blend of the Athosian tea as he moved to sit beside her.
"You come here often?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smiled. "Not as often as you. But, at times." She paused and shifted her gaze back to the horizon. "When I need to think, or rather when I'd prefer not to think."
He sank into the bench. "I know the feeling."
"Beckett keeps telling me I need to sleep. But every time I do I hear Job's voice in my head."
Teyla's brow furrowed. "Job?"
"My name for the Wraith who.. you know."
"Ah."
"I never found out his name. When we met, I didn't exactly have plans to ask him. Now I wish I had, so I could tell him to shut up. I can't close my eyes without hearing 'There is much you do not know about the Wraith.'" John deepened his voice in imitation and Teyla smiled awkwardly.
"I sometimes see Michael in my dreams."
He felt something strange clench inside him, not sure what to think of that. Michael was another subject John did not like to think about. Michael and Teyla least of all.
"Sometimes in the dream he is human and we spar or talk like trusted friends. But more often than not, he is Wraith."
She closed her eyes and sipped at her tea before continuing. "What disturbs me most is that in the dream it does not matter. Whether he appears Human or Wraith -- our relationship is the same -- we eat, we joke, we fight, it is a... a friendship."
John could see her jaw clench with the last words.
Being haunted by the concept that the Wraith were people, or at least somehow worthy of life, was eerie to him. What must it be like for her, who spent her life hating them, fighting them, running from them?
The sun, now placed firmly in the sky, beat down on them -- beautiful in a sense but not consoling in the way the early dawn had been.
"You know what we need, don't you?"
Teyla looked at him, quzzically.
"Pancakes. Hot off the griddle and smothered in maple syrup. And Butter."
She smiled, despite herself. "That does sound appetizing. Perhaps we should make our way to the mess hall?"
John followed her from the balcony, stealing one last look at the view. He hoped to leave the questions roaming in his head behind the doors.
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Got anything you wanna put forth? *g*
Early Morning Voices
******
John crept onto the balcony just before the dawn's light could peak over the horizon.
It was his favorite time of day and was worth the twenty minutes of tossing in bed he lost to be able to see it. When the expedition first arrived -- unsure of what lied ahead in this entirely new galaxy -- seeing the hues of gold and pink and orange slowly flood the city, which then sparkled like stars after emerging from the sea, had answered any question in John's mind about the journey being worth the trip.
"It's beauty never fades, does it?"
John turned at the sound of her voice. He'd thought he was alone.
"No, it doesn't."
She sat curled up on the bench, a large mug in her hands. He could smell the musky blend of the Athosian tea as he moved to sit beside her.
"You come here often?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.
She smiled. "Not as often as you. But, at times." She paused and shifted her gaze back to the horizon. "When I need to think, or rather when I'd prefer not to think."
He sank into the bench. "I know the feeling."
"Beckett keeps telling me I need to sleep. But every time I do I hear Job's voice in my head."
Teyla's brow furrowed. "Job?"
"My name for the Wraith who.. you know."
"Ah."
"I never found out his name. When we met, I didn't exactly have plans to ask him. Now I wish I had, so I could tell him to shut up. I can't close my eyes without hearing 'There is much you do not know about the Wraith.'" John deepened his voice in imitation and Teyla smiled awkwardly.
"I sometimes see Michael in my dreams."
He felt something strange clench inside him, not sure what to think of that. Michael was another subject John did not like to think about. Michael and Teyla least of all.
"Sometimes in the dream he is human and we spar or talk like trusted friends. But more often than not, he is Wraith."
She closed her eyes and sipped at her tea before continuing. "What disturbs me most is that in the dream it does not matter. Whether he appears Human or Wraith -- our relationship is the same -- we eat, we joke, we fight, it is a... a friendship."
John could see her jaw clench with the last words.
Being haunted by the concept that the Wraith were people, or at least somehow worthy of life, was eerie to him. What must it be like for her, who spent her life hating them, fighting them, running from them?
The sun, now placed firmly in the sky, beat down on them -- beautiful in a sense but not consoling in the way the early dawn had been.
"You know what we need, don't you?"
Teyla looked at him, quzzically.
"Pancakes. Hot off the griddle and smothered in maple syrup. And Butter."
She smiled, despite herself. "That does sound appetizing. Perhaps we should make our way to the mess hall?"
John followed her from the balcony, stealing one last look at the view. He hoped to leave the questions roaming in his head behind the doors.
Re: Early Morning Voices
And, since I might as well:
unsure of what lied ahead in this entirely new galaxy - should be "unsure of what lay ahead..."
And it would be "Its beauty never..." - no apostrophe.
Re: Early Morning Voices
In the unlikely event that I write another Atlantis piece -- will you beta for me?
Re: Early Morning Voices
Re: Early Morning Voices