Disclaimer: I only own Eris and Alyssa, Lydia belongs to BiteMeTechie and everything else belongs to TPTB.
You're doing WHAT?
"Alyssa, Alyssa where are you" Teyla called.
She sighed, it was no use with this racket going on; her daughter would never hear her. She turned the corner and paused outside the offender's quarters.
She had no doubt that this was where the noise was coming from, no one else played their music so loud you could hear it from the other side of the city. However, convincing Lydia McKay to turn down her music was well, like finding a vegetarian wraith, it just didn't happen.
Slowly she knocked on the door, after about a minute with no response she realised that Lydia probably couldn't hear her so, taking a deep breath, she opened the door.
"Lydia?"
"WHAT!" came the reply from the end of the room.
A woman wearing a Ramones T-shirt and A pair of black jeans spun round, a look of pure murder on her face.
"Oh Teyla, it's you," she said, sounding surprised. Her face softened a little.
"I thought you were another one of those incompetent dunderheads from my department, coming to bug me on my day off."
Choosing to ignore this comment Teyla continued.
"Could you possibly turn your um, music down a bit, please?"
"Why?" Lydia looked at her suspiciously.
"Because I can't find Alyssa, and this noise is not helping. Besides, it can't be good for Eris to be hearing this stuff day and night."
"She doesn't mind, and anyway she's not here, she's out with her father."
"Oh," Teyla couldn't help being a bit surprised; Dr Rodney McKay was not the most involved parent in the world, she wondered what they could be doing.
"Do you think Alyssa might have gone with them?"
It was definitely a possibility now she thought about it, the two girls were very good friends, something she had never understood. She supposed it must be a case of what the Atlanteans called opposites attract.
"No, I don't think so."
"Oh well if you see her, send her home."
It was only when Teyla then left that she realised; Lydia never had turned her music down.
Teyla sighed and headed to the Mess hall with the vague hope that someone there might know where Alyssa was.
As she entered the large room it quickly became clear that Alyssa was not there, but she smiled to see Rodney and Eris sat in one corner drinking coffee and Milkshakes.
It was a rare moment, although Eris looked the picture of innocence with her blonde curls, she was still the daughter of Rodney and Lydia McKay and had inherited a temper which Teyla had never seen the likes of in any Athosian child.
Teyla knew, as did the rest of Atlantis, that if there was any trouble to be had in the city, 9 times out of 10 you would find Eris McKay at the bottom of it. If anyone would know where Alyssa was it would be her.
She wandered over to them.
"Hello Teyla," said the little girl.
"Hi, I was wondering if you had seen Alyssa recently."
"No, not since yesterday."
She glanced at her father, who shook his head in reply,
"As much as I hate to admit it, I don't know where she is either."
"OK, Thanks anyway.
Teyla sighed and headed towards the doors. She had no idea where to look next, and was starting to get worried when she realised, she had not seen Ronon since lunch either.
She guessed he was probably in the gym, and decided that would be as good a place as any to continue her search. On arriving she was surprised to hear voices coming from inside. She opened the doors she was met by the strangest sight she had seen in a long time.
"Ronon, what on Atlantis do you think you are doing?" she asked her husband.
"I'm teaching Alyssa to stick fight." He replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"You're doing WHAT?"
"I'm teaching Alyssa to stick fight." He said again, with a hint of pride that was not lost of the bewildered woman who stood in the doorway.
"Yes I can see that but, but…."
"It's important to start young, and she was very keen to learn."
"Yes but darling, she's Three!
A/N - This is the part where the author usually begs for reviews, and who am I to break with tradition? Constructive critcism is appreciated but flames will be stamped on.