Title: Walk Alone
Summary: They didn't speak; they didn't need to.
Characters: John, Teyla & Torren
Pairing: John-Teyla
Rating: K+
Notes: For the JT prompt battle. "I am not afraid to walk this world alone..."
He slowed his steps as he passed by the balcony, stopping completely as he watched her bounce Torren John in her arms. The dewy moonlight leaked through the sparse clouds and spilled across her figure, highlighting her against the inky blackness beyond. He sighed as he looked around. The halls were empty and the air was pure and fresh, crisp in its chill.
She shouldn't be out there.
He took another breath as he stepped towards the doors, pausing again a few steps away from the sensor. He watched her again as she stroked her sons head, her lips moving as she spoke to him of things John would never find out if he didn't move.
The doors swished open with their usual sound that John had thought was inexplicably cool when he'd first arrived. For a moment, he wondered when Atlantis had stopped being wonderful to him; it was simply home now. He moved through the corridors without any thought for where he actually was; in an alien city turned ship, on an alien planet, in another galaxy.
It had stopped being odd after the first few months and in a way he regretted it; he missed the feeling of wonder whenever he stepped into the transporter, flew the puddle jumpers, saw the gate activate.
The fact the City responded to his every whim was still up there in the table of cool but it was slowly working its way down.
She didn't turn to him and when she spoke her back was still the only thing of her he could see.
"It is late."
John nodded as he slid into place beside her, his arms resting on the railing in front of him. Water rolled off the walls of the piers with a gentle swishing sound, the sea below calmer than it had been in months. The wind had died down and the incessant rain had eased for the first time in days. The clouds that littered the sky were thinning and silver against the obsidian blanket overhead.
"It is." He struggled for words to say. Things between them had not been right for some months; not since the night in the infirmary where she had named her child after him. John's resistance to Kanaan's presence on base had not eased matters between them.
Neither had his relief when Kanaan had decided to return to be with the Athosians.
In her arms, Torren looked huge. He was six months old and already he looked like he could take over the world. Well, John thought as a crooked smile stretched over his lips, maybe not but certainly his world.
"Restless?" He asked and when she turned to him questioningly, he gestured in the direction of the bundle in her arms with his head.
She shifted the bundle higher up her arm and John looked away, telling himself she could handle it.
"I wonder sometimes if perhaps holding Ronon for several hours a day would be easier than holding Torren."
Despite himself, John laughed. And loudly. He turned to her and lifted an eyebrow but she simply looked away, quirking a tired smile in his direction.
He felt that pang again but pushed it aside.
She was a big girl; she would ask for help if she needed it.
She was also very stubborn.
"Ronon's dreads alone probably weigh twice as much as the kid." She only breathed out a puff of air at that. Silence fell across them once more and John shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if maybe he should head back inside and leave her alone. He turned to look at her from the corner of his eye. Even from his angle, he could see the dark rings around her eyes, the puffy lids.
He didn't know what to do.
He shifted and she glared at him from the corner of her eye and he stilled, staring straight ahead. At the far end of the pier, a light pulsated slowly and John wondered if it was a lighthouse. As soon as the thought flitted across his brain, he realised the absurdity of it and he shook his head.
He must be more tired than he realised.
His team had gone on back to back missions for three days. Trade negotiations between four planets that considered Rodney the be all and end all meant that they'd not had much time to themselves. As Torren shifted, John realised Teyla'd had even less than the others.
Again, the pang.
Again, he pushed it aside.
"I'm sorry about Kanaan," he said suddenly, surprising them both.
She turned to him, her expression blank for a few moments before steely resolve settled into her features.
"You are not."
He considered lying.
"No. I'm not." He paused, wincing at the harshness of his words. "I'm sorry for what... well, you know."
She turned to him, jiggling Torren lightly in her arms.
"I do not." He closed his eyes and winced again, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. "You do not know what you are apologising for," she said hotly and John opened his eyes to hers, "how do you expect others to?"
He bit back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue. It would do no good to fight with her; they'd done that too often this past year. Instead, he turned away and closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose. He needed to calm down; she got under his skin in a way no one had in a long time – not even Rodney.
Finally, he turned to her as the moonlight slid from her face, the pale orb disappearing behind a thick cloud. His breath caught.
"I'm sorry that you're alone."
She pursed her lips and John thought he saw something dark and painful pass through her eyes before she ducked her head and looked out to the ocean. The lights from the city glittered off her face in the absence of the ethereal glow of the night's orb; once again, he was struck by her raw beauty.
He looked away, too.
"Kanaan made his choices. I have made mine." He heard her inhale deeply and he could imagine her closing her eyes. He didn't look to see. "I am not afraid to walk this world alone." He turned to her then but she was focussed on her son. "But I would rather not."
The pang was now a full force ache and he exhaled loudly at her words, sagging against the railings. She turned to him and he could feel her eyes burning into his neck, his hairs there rising to stand on end.
"Despite... everything," he said as he straightened, leaning his hip against the railing so he could watch her, "you're not alone." He stroked Torren's hair without thought and was startled to feel how thick and full it was. "You'll always have us," he said as he withdrew his hand, their eyes connecting. The air around them thickened as they stared at one another, her eyes filling with unspoken emotion. John cleared his throat and looked away. "You should get inside," he said as he unconsciously tucked Torren's blanket closer around his face. "It's getting cold out."
He heard her sigh and saw her take a step back from him, withdrawing. He let her do it.
"In a while."
John nodded but didn't move.
"I'll carry him to your quarters?" He said by way of invitation. She looked over to him, questioning. He shrugged and nodded.
As she transferred her bundle in his arms, she thanked him, her hand resting lightly on his elbow for a second longer than was necessary. He looked down to her and their eyes met. He smiled faintly, his lips tilting up at the edges. She returned it and for a moment, John felt a different pang.
She stepped away and the breeze wafted between them.
As they walked to her quarters, they didn't speak.
They didn't need to.