Teyla couldn't look away from her son's innocent sleeping face. He was all she had left of Kanaan. It had been a week since his death and three since his funeral. She missed him terribly, but grief and mourning was not what held her in her room.
It had been a month since he had become ill and she had removed herself from her team to nurse him. But despite the distant between their homes, she and John were now closer than ever. Whenever she stepped out of Kanaan's chamber while he slept, John was always there to just sit with her.
She had tried to keep her distance, to ignore the feelings that were between them. But somehow, her loss only made her want to be with him more. She had always found him as a comfort; even if he didn't understand why. She constantly reminded herself now that it was not the time to find comfort in another man's touch. Especially John's.
During her people's service in honor of Kanaan, John had hardly left her side and Ronon was not far behind. Afterward, a celebration of his life commenced and extended far into the night. She had uncharacteristically had much too much to drink. She hardly remembered more than pieces of demanding more drink, laughter, and John's worried eyes he tried to hide. She vaguely remembered Ronon carrying her into her tent the others had set for her. Once she was safely in bed, she strained her ears to listen to the men outside.
"Someone should stay with her." Ronon was saying in a low voice.
There was a pause before John replied. "I'll stay with her."
"We can take shifts you if you want."
"I think I can handle her." she could hear the soft smile in his voice.
"I'll be nearby." Ronon's footfalls drifted off.
As John entered hesitantly, Teyla grinned from her place sprawled in the bed.
"Hello, John." She greeted cheerfully.
"Do you need anything?" he asked from the entrance.
"More drink!" she clumsily punch the empty air.
"I'll get you some water." He turned to leave but Teyla called after him.
"John… I…" suddenly something thicker than words climbed her throat. She bent over the bed and John rushed over to place a bucket beneath her. He pulled the hair from her face and waited. When she was done, he helped her sit at the edge. The next thing she knew she was begging him not to leave her. She fell into him, tears falling down her cheeks.
"Hey, hey," he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her.
"Don't leave me alone." She pleaded into his shoulder.
"I'm not going anywhere, okay?" he pulled her closer to him. When she finally calmed, he laid down, keeping her against him, thinking she was asleep.
Luckily for both of them, it was Halling who found her the next day in John's arms instead of another who wouldn't have understood. It hadn't been a completely comfortable affair, but Halling had promised to keep quiet. That night was the last night she had slept.
Now she was too filled with guilt and confused feelings. She warred internally in the dim light of the candles around her. Her pain and sorrow was more for Torren then herself for the loss. How was she to go back to the team and risk leaving him forever without any parents? How was she to give into feelings for another man? How was she meant to continue on? Tears slid down her cheeks.
John paced in front of Teyla's door. He walked up to the door only to walk away again several times. He had tried to knock, to ring the bell, or even to simply open the door; but something stopped him every time. He didn't know what to do. Should he go and check on her? Or should he let her be? He had thought she wanted him there for her after the funeral, but then she had locked herself in her room and had talked to anyone for days. He had finally lost the battle against his feelings for her and it couldn't have come at a worse time.
He only knew he didn't want to be without her. and he didn't want her to be hurting alone. They had gone through to much to fall apart now.
He knocked at the door.
Teyla could hear someone pacing outside her door. She wanted to walk away, to go see who it was, but her eyes were glued to her sleeping boy. She heard the door open but couldn't turn.
"I knocked but you didn't answer." John's hesitant voice came from the doorway. Fresh tears slid from her cheeks at his voice but Torren smiled in his sleep. "I, uh, came to see if you were okay…" he slowly walked up beside her; hiding his worry at her silence. "How's Torren?"
"He is asleep; but he is fine." She hoped her voice was steadier than she heard.
"And how are you holding up?" There was no hiding the fact that he was unsure of what to say.
"I am fine." She stroked the blanket over her son. "I have been better." She admitted.
"You know I'm not really good at this kind of stuff…" he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as if to prove his point. "Do you, you know, want to talk?" Despite the thoughts running through her mind, all she could do was mournfully shake her head.
Finally she lost any control on her tears and she began to openly cry. She turned into him buried her face in his chest. Braced that this might happen, John readily wrapped his arms around her, supported her some of her weight, and let her cry.
After what felt like and an eternity, she finally pulled back, moving her hands atop her shoulders. She bent her head in the Athosian manner and his forehead met hers. His hands, however, didn't move; one still laid on the small of her back and the other at the nape of her neck.
"Thank you." she whispered closing her eyes. She knew she should pull away but couldn't bring herself to do so.
"Teyla…" his words caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. Her eyes opened and seem to stare through him. He unconsciously moved closer and she tilted her face slightly upward.
Their lips met in a soft, tentative, long-awaited kiss. They had kissed once before, but it had been pure passion and haste; but now it was almost too gentle. He pulled her closer and Teyla wrapped her arms around his neck.
Suddenly, she pulled away and leaned heavily on Torren's crib; unable to hold herself up.
"I'm… I'm sorry…" he stuttered as her shoulders shook. He spun on his heels and hurried for the door.
"John, wait…" she turned, unable to control her sobs. He froze at the door and faced her.
"Teyla, I'm so sorry," he repeated.
"John… I…" sobs caught in her chest and cut off her words. She clutched at her chest as her legs gave out from beneath her. Arms suddenly caught her before she felt the floor.
John pulled her into him, supporting her crumpling frame. It wasn't like her, to let herself go like this, to let herself fall. So he let her cry, silently promising to catch her each time she fell. And Teyla let herself break in the arms of someone she knew would pick up the pieces.