Disclaimer: Don't own it. Don't intend to buy it.


Not Anything

Teyla never broke. Would not break. Not back when her father was taken, nor when others close to her were killed and fed upon. Not when Charin died, and she did not foresee it happening in the future. She knew that Halling, and several others she considered family, believed that it was the death of her father that had instigated this behaviour. That she had not taken the necessary time to grieve, and had hardened herself. She knew it made them feel better to think this way. To believe that someday she would break down, have an epiphany; weep and mourn for all those she had lost in a violent storm of emotional revelation. It helped them, so she let them believe it were true.

She was closed off, and had been since before she could remember. But not emotionless. Not just a biological machine. She was passionate – displayed it when appropriate. Felt anger and used it to fuel her resolve – to fuel her fight. She enjoyed the violent release of sparring and the calm silence of meditation. She loved activity – to move, to run, to fight. She loved to be still, just not ever stagnant.

But in her life, was she happy? She was not sad. She was not anything so simply described and dismissed. She was alive and wanted to stay that way.

That was enough.