Compassion
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Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is mine only in my wildest fantasies.
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"You're different from the others. I knew that the first time I saw you."
As he speaks, distracting Teyla with words, Michael reaches out mentally. It is the one ability the humans could not take from him, and he is desperately grateful. Without it, he would be just like humans, reduced to making sounds with his mouth, and contorting the muscles of his face.
And Teyla is different. He hadn't known what he was feeling the first time he met her, only that it was like coming home and being granted unexpected shelter all at once. Talking with her was a relief. Communicating with the others was frustrating. As if he were only getting half his meaning across, and only getting half in return.
"You're the only one willing to understand."
With her, he didn't have to say or explain or tell. She simply knew what he meant, just as he instinctively knew what she did. At the time, he'd put it down to their friendship. Now he knows that she has wraith abilities too. He's not sure how, or why – there are still gaps in his memory – but it's undeniable.
"The only one with a truly open mind."
In the end, it's not so difficult. Teyla's mind is filled with doubt and conflict, more than even she herself is aware of. He simply finds these points and exerts gentle pressure. When her fingers find the straps, it is little more than the carrying out of a desire she already holds.
With the gradual return of his memory, he knows that what he is doing is a measure used on children; a means of curbing foolish or dangerous behaviour before their minds develop either psychic barriers or mature judgement. Teyla has no sublety in her barriers. She is either completely closed off, or completely open. Crude, without finesse. But then, she is barely more than a child. A scant handful of years to her lifespan, and she calls herself an adult. Were she born a proper wraith, she'd wouldn't be counted as much more than an infant.
Right now she is completely open to him. He senses her fascination, her hope. She thinks – tells herself – that he can resign himself to this form, that he will stay here. With her.
"The only who has showed compassion."
Poor little human. She would have been happier with a dull human mind. She would have lived contentedly in blind and deaf darkness, never knowing what true light was. But with the senses gifted to her, she knows exactly what she is lacking. She will spend her life always frustrated, surrounded by humans incapable of understanding or satisfying her needs, always seeking out the intimacy of mind-to-mind contact and knowing only isolation.
"Thank you, Teyla."
The plan was to take her hostage and get as far as the stargate. But he cannot leave her here. A wraith trapped in a human body. He knows what hell that is. No, killing her would be more of a mercy than leaving her to suffer alone.
The humans might not have showed compassion. But he will.
"I knew I could count on you."