Author's Note: Whatever I feel, intentionally or not, comes out in my writing. This one is intentional.
The dialogue from Sunday is from my memory; so if I was wrong, blame me.
Dedication: To my shoulders to cry on (you SHOULD know who you are...)
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Teyla sat curled up in a corner of the gym, her knees curled up to her chest. Tears slid down her cheeks and made a dark, wet spot on her knees. She wanted to stop, but now that the tears had begun she could not seem to make them stop no matter how hard she tried.
She watched through blurry eyes as the moonlight traced a colorful pattern on the gym floor. through the stained-glass windows. She would never have come here to be alone if it were not night and she knew that no one else intruded on this little gym that Sheppard had begged for his team. She wished desperately that she had not been hurt, that there was something she could have done. It was because she had been hurt that Dr. Beckett had taken so long to get to the man with the tumor; it was her fault that he had died. If he had not wasted so much time trying to save her...
She buried her face in her hands, thinking of the last words he had said to her, the last time that she had seen him. It was on the way back to the infirmary, he had grasped her hand and promised that she would be okay.
"...we're going to take it out and patch you up, love... I can do this one in my sleep."That was the last thing that she remembered before waking up to the news that he was dead. And now she realized that his promise was broken; he'd promised that she would be okay, but how could she be alright when his death was her fault? She had pretended to be strong for his funeral; and the next few days while her team was on earth she had spent most of her time in the infirmary, asleep and numb to what had happened. Only now was the pain and the gulit starting to kick in.
Suddenly, she felt a warm, solid presence beside her, and a second later the strong arms of the man that she loved encircled her. She pulled back against them, ashamed.
"Teyla, what's wrong?" he asked her gently, tipping her chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "You're still hurt, why are you in here all alone?"
"It's my fault that he's dead," she whimpered brokenly. "If he had not had to save me first..."
"It wouldn't have changed anything," he told her. "There would have been others, not having to work on you wouldn't have helped him get the tumor out of that guy any faster. It wasn't your fault that you were hurt and it isn't your fault that he died. Don't blame yourself for something that you couldn't control."
"I killed him." He drew her close to his chest, and she curled into his warmth.
"No you didn't," he murmured in her ear, kissing her hair. "It's not your fault. Don't blame yourself for it." she sobbed against his chest, but she didn't hurt quite as bad as she had. She still didn't believe him that it wasn't her fault--- she couldn't help but think that there was something that she could have done--- but if she could not accept that she was innocent, at least she had a shoulder to cry on.
Fin.
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A/N: I'm certainly not going through anything like this, but I am going through some hard stuff; and even if I can't completely accept why it's happening, I am eternally grateful for everyone who has helped me, sometimes by just letting me cry.