A/N: So, the S5 premiere got leaked, and from the spoilers I haven't been able to avoid... Warnings, people! That's all I'm asking!... I can see this story is about to get Jossed (Kripked, Gero'd, name your poison) so herein lies a story written for Mandy, new mother of Amelia and all around great gal. It's now AU for S5 but really contains no spoilers since it was written in April. Unless you didn't know Teyla was pregnant... oops.

Herein you will find a completely unlikely, wholly improbable, totally contrived situation that really defies all credulity.

But I needed it for your story, so there. stomps foot

Please stretch your suspension-of-disbelief muscles before reading.

"I do appreciate this, John," Teyla said as she accepted his hand. His firm grip in hers, she pulled herself up from the floor without her usual grace, her one hand immediately going to the small of her back. The ache there had that had been her constant companion for the last few months had grown recently.

"No problem. I think this breathing stuff could come in handy actually. We should teach Rodney to use it next time he needs a splinter removed."

Teyla smiled; Rodney did have a decidedly low pain threshold. But she took the breathing exercises very seriously. After her people had been rescued she had met with a doula, a lovely woman named Pilara, who had helped train her in the relaxation technique. Dr Keller had also given her books on Lamaze from back on Earth and the two complemented each other very well. But she needed a partner, and Kanaan… her child's father's death left her without a partner to practice with.

She watched fondly as John put the pillows back in place on the bench and snapped open a bottle of water for her as she sat down.

"You look tuckered out," John observed, his face wrinkled with concern. "Maybe you should head back to your quarters and take a nap or something."

Normally, Teyla would have been at the very least miffed at the worrying and fussing John and the others had been doing. But she recognized that her rescue had only been a short time before and she guesses they were entitled to a little worry on her behalf. Besides, she was tired. And the ache in her back was growing by the minute.

"Perhaps you are right. A warm bath and some rest would be wonderful right now," she agreed. "Thank you. But this does not mean I do not wish to continue our exercises. With my due date so close I wish to be prepared to give my son the best possible entry into the world."

"And his mom's health and well-being will be necessary for that," John said with a serious nod. "So off to bed with ya." He saw her mouth open and he held up a hand. "And yes, tonight. 1900 hours. I'll bring more pillows. My butt gets sore too, you know. Those mats are too thin."

She nodded in acknowledgment and rose from the bench to go back to her quarters.

The contraction hit her at the same time the alarms began blaring.

"What the --?" John's hand flew to his ear at the same time as the doors in the gym slammed shut. "Damn!"

"What is it, John?"

"I didn't bring my radio. Peace and tranquility and all that. You have yours?"

"It is in my locker," she said regrettably, gesturing towards a shut door.

"Damn!" He'd finally noticed the way she was bent over and his eyes went wide. "No… no, we already did this. This is NOT happening."

"Relax, John," she said, straightening up. "Doctor Keller told me that I would start to have "false" contractions before the real ones. I'm sure that's all this was."

"False contractions, huh? Doesn't look false. Here," he said, taking her arm and walking her backwards until she reached the bench. "Siddown. You need water or anything?"

"I'm fine," she said with a little exasperation. "I wonder what has caused the quarantine precautions," she added, hoping to take attention off of her.

"Ah, who knows," John said as he ruffled the hair on the back of his head. "Rodney was working on system upgrades, in case … you know who came around again."

"Michael," she said coldly.

"Yeah, him. "I'm sure Rodney'll have the doors open in a jiff." His eyes scanned the wall of windows anxiously.

"Do not even think of it, John," Teyla warned.

"What? No. No I wasn't."

But his eyes lingered on the windows.

Another cramp seized her, low in her groin and she sucked in a breath.

"That was fast," John said uneasily. "You sure these are the false ones?"

"I…" She huffed, rubbing her hand on her belly. "I don't know," she finally admitted, to him and herself.

"Oh, crap," John muttered, scrubbing his fingers again on his nape. "This is a joke, right? Ha ha, Rodney, come on out with the camera… you got me." He held his hands out like a surrendering criminal. "Fun's over, guys!"

"John," she said, breathing more heavily, "this is not a joke. I can assure you I would not be here if I did not have to be."

All her plans. Pilara, the breathing. She'd made arrangements with Dr. Keller. There were going to be candles and soft music. Her son's turbulent beginnings in her womb, all the evil he'd been tainted with in her battle with the Wraith Queen, the drugs that Michael had used on her. This was all going to be wiped away with a peaceful, comforting birth with friends and loved ones.

Another contraction seized her and she cried out.

"Okay, that's really frickin' fast," John announced. He began pacing in an abbreviated circuit of the length of the bench.

Then he stopped abruptly, turned on his heel and came over to the bench. "Sorry. Momentary freak out. What can I do?"

She smiled and patted his leg. "I need nothing, John. Except for the doors to open, of course. For now I need nothing." Then her smile crept up in one corner. "And I need to use the washroom."

John was used to her frequent trips to the bathroom; it was fodder for many jokes when the team met for meals. At least until she reminded them that while her situation was temporary, the many articles she saw in the Earth magazines attested to the problems men developed in years not too far off, for the colonel and Rodney, at least. That stopped the jokes in their tracks; even Ronon sobered.

"Sure," he said, offering her a hand up off the bench. He wrapped an arm around her waist and supported her in her walk over to the bathroom and she didn't feel inclined to refuse his assistance. The pain in her lower back was getting excruciating, the pressure like a vice on her insides.

Once in the bathroom she ran the water in the sink and wet down a towel to wipe her face. A sheen of sweat coated her skin and she was feeling shakier by the minute. She planted both hands on the counter and braced herself as another contraction ran through her uterus.

"Aaaah!" she cried out. And then she felt a gush of warm liquid run down her legs. She picked up her skirts to see a pool of pinkish fluid on the floor of the bathroom.

That was when she realized that this was really happening. Plans or no plans, she was about to have her baby. Trapped in the gym and she was about to deliver.

She emerged from the bathroom a minute later; John was hovering outside the door and she practically bumped into him on the way out.

She held up a sodden pile of fabric, the remains of her ruined undergarments, and sighed.

"What ? What's going on?" John asked, looking puzzled as he stared at the contents of her hand.

"My water has broken," she announced stonily.

John's eyebrows rose so far they disappeared into his hairline. But he quickly recovered, putting his arm back around her and helping her back to the bench.

She sat down and immediately doubled over with another contraction. This one lasted a little longer and left her completely drained. She laid back, pulling her feet up to ease the pull on her belly and closed her eyes. She needed to find her center. Breathe as she had learned. Just breathe through the pain, ride it out as one would the sea's surf.

When she finally opened her eyes, panting heavily, she saw John standing at the end of the bench with his hands planted on his hips. "All right. I guess we're just gonna hafta deliver this baby right here."

"No! No, I will wait until the doors open," she cried out, even as another contraction took hold. While she worked to get her breath back she shook her head.

"Why not?" John asked. "Women have been giving birth for millennia. Shouldn't matter if it's in a gym."

"No, John," she finally gasped out. "I do not wish your help."

"But I'm your coach."

"Yes, for breathing," she said firmly.

His lower lip pushed out and she almost laughed. He was pouting!

"Why don't you want my help?"

She huffed loudly and swiped her sweat soaked hair from her eyes. "I think that quite obvious, Colonel," and she glanced meaningfully down the length of her body.

"Is that it? Teyla, I was married, you know. And while it has been a little while," he added dryly, "I - I have seen… women… parts before."

"Not. Mine."

"Thought you Athosians are supposed to be less uptight about these things."

Her glare held heat enough to burn.

"Okay, okay," he said. "Fine." He appeared to ponder a moment, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin.

The next thing she knew, John had his belt undone and dangling. He then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his BDUs and began lowering them. The sliver of pale flesh and hair exposed showed his boxers were headed south as well.

"John! What are you doing?" she gasped out.

He hesitated, right at the point where things were about to get interesting, and cocked an eyebrow at her. "Thought you'd be less embarrassed. You know – I show you mine, you show me yours."

She snorted out a laugh as she continued to puff. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment and the comfort that good friends and kind gestures brings. "That will not be necessary," she replied, "but I do appreciate the offer."

John shrugged and pulled the BDUs up with what looked like a little disappointment. But then he smirked and said, "Lemme know if you change your mind. Alright- let's have at it."

And with that he bent over and lifted her skirts.

"Oh, wow."

"John?"

"Oh, this is just… I never thought, in my whole life, I'd get to see this…"

His fixed gaze on her nether regions was disturbing to say the least, but the admiration and wonder in his voice took it to a whole other level

"John!"

He looked up from between her legs and John Sheppard, the man who once told her that he didn't express his feelings very well, who had chosen self-imposed exile to Antarctica to avoid connections and complications… the military commander of Atlantis… had the goofiest smile Teyla had ever seen.

"It's so awesome, Teyla! I mean, people use the term awesome all the time, but this- this is where it should really be used. I… I am full of awe. This is shock and awe! You're already crowning, Teyla! I can see his head!

She almost sobbed with worry and relief. Where a small part of her kept hoping that the doors would open and she could have the birth she longed for, this knowledge dashed all remaining thoughts of candles and soft music.

"I'm gonna go wash up, okay?" John asked.

Another contraction had her puffing out rhythmic breaths but she nodded.

When he came back from the small washroom, his hands still dripped with water and his sleeves had been rolled to his elbows. He was carrying a pile of clean towels which he laid on the bench.

He sank to his knees at the end of the bench, then took her hand and helped her scooch down to meet him at the end. He pushed back her skirts and took off her soft shoes so she could dig her feet into the padding of the bench.

"Okay. So, I guess you know as much as I do… probably more. Push when you feel the contraction and I'll catch the little guy as he comes out. Sound like a plan?"

She started to nod but a much worse contraction instead had her straining, puffing breaths out, and she felt her entire body bear down.

"Aaaaah!" she cried, then clamped her mouth shut, using the pent up energy to feed her pushing.

"That's good, Teyla! Keep breathing like we talked about, right?" He picked up a towel and leaned over to wipe her brow before handing it to her.

Then he made a grimace with his teeth and began making breathy hee hee hee sounds.

She did not feel much like laughing at the moment. But she did try the breathing and it worked. Until the next contraction hit. All breathing went out the window as this one felt like her whole body trying to turn in on itself. Her moan turned into a groan turned into a primal scream as she dug in, fingers grabbing the back of the bench and PUSHED.

"That's it, Teyla!" John said with a happy laugh. "His head and one shoulder are already out! Great job, Teyla. How are you doing?"

She couldn't answer, her concentration on getting enough oxygen for the next push, but she gave him a quick smile and a nod.

"Okay. Just a few more pushes, Teyla."

She bore down with the next contraction, this one the strongest yet and as she pushed she felt a sharp pain that made her shout.

She gasped at the same time John did. "What is wrong?" she asked, a hint of panic in her voice.

"Nothing," John said, looking up to meet her eyes when he heard her concern. "The other shoulder's out and he tore you a little. Kid's a little bruiser already - I'd say he's gonna go at least ten pounds." He grinned. "You sure Ronon…"

"Is NOT the father, no, John," she huffed out with a sad smile.

"Okay. But if he starts hiding knives in his swaddling blanket I'm gonna know you were lying.

Okay, home stretch, mom. One more good push should do it. You holding up?"

Her answer was a groan and a cry as another contraction took hold. Then another, one almost atop the other. She lost her breathing rhythm and started gasping for air.

"Hey! Hey, Teyla?" She felt rough fabric on her hand and peeled her eyes open to see John had wrapped his blood-stained hand in a towel and placed it on hers. His gaze was strong and comforting. "You can do this," he said very seriously. "It's almost over and then you can take that nap you wanted, huh?"

She choked out a sobbed laugh, exhaustion wringing every drop of energy from her sweat-soaked body.

"You can swear at me, too," John added. "In the movies they always show the woman swearing at the man."

"I… I… will… bear… that… in… mind…" she managed to get out between breaths. "But I do nnnnnnnnn!" A strong contraction wracked her body and she bore down with everything left in her. Time seemed suspended. It was just her and the pain and the squeezing pressure and the pushing and --

Waaaah! She heard her son's cry. Tears sprang to her eyes as she gaped in amazement at the red-faced and wrinkled baby that John held in his hands. The little one was squirming, his tiny fists already shaking in the air.

"He looks like Rodney when they're outa blue jello," John commented as he wrapped the babe in a towel and placed him on Teyla's stomach.

He was the most beautiful sight she had seen in two galaxies. She ran a fingertip gently over his cheek and under his chin, smiling as her son wiggled under the contact.

"Ten fingers, ten toes," John said, wiping his hands on a towel. "And he's definitely a boy, if you get my drift. Although, I guess that could be the umbilical cord."

She snorted out a laugh and met John's eyes. She knew hers were red and wet but his shimmered with an inner light. "Thank you, John."

He stood and walked over to her side and picked up some of the pillows to help prop her up from the bench, then he leaned over and touched his forehead to hers.

"You're welcome," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she answered honestly. "I expect the contractions will resume soon but it is nice to rest for a moment… with my son." The words were still so wondrous to hear.

"Resume?" John asked, standing up to look at her with confusion.

She nodded. "The afterbirth must be delivered."

"Afterbirth?" John echoed dumbly.

She smiled. "It is very easy, I have been told. Although I assume it may get… messier."

"Well, we'll just hope the doors get opened before we cross that bridge, okay? For now," he said with a sigh as he folded his lanky form on the floor, back against the bench, "let's just all three take a little rest."

She dropped one hand down over John's shoulder and he reached up and took it and held it until the doors opened, and through the arrival of a really contrite and guilty looking Rodney, stammering out incomprehensible explanations and then through the eventual arrival of the full medical team and gurney.

It wasn't the birth she had hoped and planned for. No birthing suite with soft pillows, no Pilara. No candles or soft music.

But on reflection, she wouldn't have changed a thing.