His Soul's Art
Category - Friendship fluff Rodney - Teyla
Rating - K
Disclaimer - Sadly, I own nothing of Stargate. Very little of anything else either.
A/N - First, I'd like to thank Melanie for Betaing this fic. I've never tried to write Rodney and wasn't sure I could. As far as where this story came from, well I knew David Hewlett was interested in having more Rodney and Teyla together. Presumably, on planet X and have to rely on each other to get home. Well, what do they do on downtime together? Here it is.
Teyla was humming softly as she set up the campfire to heat up the coffee, tea and MREs for the midday meal. And there was that irritation again. His fingers itched. It wasn't physical. He'd go to Carson in a millisecond if he thought it was actually physical. This was something . . . else. Nothing in his scientific training prepared him for non-physical itching. And only in his fingers?
Ronon's deep bass started calling out a traditional Satedan army cadence as they walked along yet another path on yet another planet. Teyla's clear soprano sang out in perfect counterpoint to the rhythm. There was that itch again. Rodney tried to ignore it as Sheppard taught the other two warriors a cadence from the Air Force. He was starting to believe he needed to talk to Carson about it.
The marines had set up a jukebox in the rec room and programmed it with every single bootlegged piece of music that was on Atlantis. Rodney was occasionally called in to expand the hard drive and memory to accommodate the ever expanding collection available. On that afternoon, Teyla was singing to an old ballad. He tried to hum along. Granted, it'd been years since he had even attempted anything musical. That itch was back worse than ever. There was a slight itching in the back of his head, too. Just tighten that down and then off to Carson.
"Wh-what do you mean, there's nothing wrong with me. I just told you that I've got some unexplained symptoms and you're saying that there's nothing wrong? What about a - a rash, or an allergy . . . Oh God! You dont think its another allergy do you? You know I'm mortally allergic to citrus.
"No, Rodney," Carsons gentle burr rolled. "Scans all came back negative. I would suggest that you start documenting, keeping a log if you will, of when this itching starts to bother you.
"Some fine voodoo doctor you are! You even want me to do all of your work too. You know if I could have diagnosed it, I would have!"
There was Chopin playing from the rec room late one night when Rodney was on his way to his room. In the corner of his eye, he saw Teyla in the darkness. She was singing, more vocalizing with the complex melodies when Rodney figured out the itching hed been feeling.
Rodney remembered that day clearly. "A fine clinical player, but no sense of the art whatsoever." He remembered how something that yearned for beauty broke. It wasn't until he heard Teyla humming that he felt a strange itch in the back of his head.
In the last three years working with the Ancient technology and backward engineering some other alien tech, he had found his art. The same art that hed praised Sam about. It hadn't been until recently that there was an odd itching somewhere in his head and fingers. Nothing seemed to satisfy it. He understood art now in a way that he couldn't at twelve. He knew himself and the universe in a way that he never could at twelve.
Rodneys voice was hesitant. As if he wasn't sure Teyla wanted to be disturbed or maybe he wasn't sure he wanted to share this new desire for music with her. With anyone. "I - I used to play Chopin. I - I mean back when I was a kid and played piano. I was kinda thinking that maybe you could help me with getting it right? I mean its okay if you cant or dont have the time. I mean I'd understand.
"Rodney," Teyla interrupted. "I'd be pleased to listen to you play sometime. Perhaps there is some other music that includes voice? I believe that would be quite enjoyable." Teyla's gentle smile appeared and Rodney finally seemed content.