"How long are they going to keep us waiting?" I ask Teyla, leaning in close to whisper the words in her ear. I wouldn't want my impatience to offend our gracious hosts, after all.

Okay, maybe that's not the only reason I lean in so close.

"As long as it takes to make the point that they are really far, far too important to meet with persons as lowly as ourselves and to impress upon us the magnitude of the honour we are being afforded." Her tone is dry, almost deadpan. I find myself startled into quiet laughter.

She doesn't smile, but I swear I see an answering twinkle in her eyes as she casts a sidelong glance my way.

So. Not without a certain sense of humour, then. That's good to know.

"What's so funny?" Sheppard asks, his voice a low rumble. He raises a suspicious eyebrow.

Yes, his eyebrows can convey suspicion. They're talented like that.

Teyla starts to answer him, but I override her.

"Girl talk," I say, sweetly. "Nothing a big, strong..." I look him up and down, slowly, making sure he notices. "*Manly* man like you would be interested in, I'm sure."

He looks at me like he's not sure whether to be offended or amused. Maybe even a little, dare I say it, flattered?

It's fun to keep people on their toes.

"Just making conversation," he says, rolling his eyes. "Forget I asked."

Teyla casts one of her stern looks my way (ooh, yes please) and turns to Sheppard. "I was simply explaining to Vala the likely reasons for our wait."

He frowns. "That's it?"

"It was the way she said it," I clarify, still smiling a little.

"I'll take your word for it," he mutters, giving me a strange look.

"What?!"

McKay's voice is loud, his sudden exclamation making all of us turn around to look at him. Apparently oblivious to the fact that he's now the centre of attention, he taps a few buttons on his handheld scanner, jiggling it a little as if that will make whatever provoked his outburst make more sense.

"McKay?" Sheppard asks. McKay doesn't even acknowledge him, much less respond. "Rodney?" Still no response. Sheppard sighs heavily, then reaches over and taps the other man on the shoulder. "Hey, *Meredith*. Wake up!

Meredith? Is that a pet name? I tuck it away for later use.

"Don't call me that!" McKay snaps, the response seeming to come automatically. Only then does he blink and look up, frowning. "Sheppard? What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" He turns back to the scanner.

"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Sheppard sounds extremely long-suffering, like he's had to do this many a time before.

"No," McKay mutters, not even bothering to look up. "Busy now. Talk later."

"So, give us the Cliff's Notes version! And don't make me ask again."

Or what? I wonder.

"But- Oh, *fine*." Huffing impatiently, McKay glares at Sheppard. "The readings from the energy source just jumped in intensity. And started fluctuating."

"Is that bad?" Teyla asks, sounding concerned.

"I don't know! I don't even know what it *is* yet. This could be something perfectly normal. Or it could mean we're all doomed. I was going to wait until I had a little more data before saying anything, but *someone* was feeling nosy. And impatient." He glowers in Sheppard's direction again, as if to make absolutely, utterly certain that we know who he's talking about.

"Oh. Well. Carry on, then." Sheppard seems distinctly unfazed by McKay's ire. "Let us know if it turns out to be anything dangerous."

McKay rolls his eyes expressively. "No, I thought I'd just keep the information to myself."

"No need for sarcasm."

"Sheppard, when you're around there is *every* need for sarcasm. Now, be quiet and let me work!"

"Yes, *Sir*."

Sheppard sounds amused, but I see the glances he and Teyla exchange over McKay's bowed head, the silent communication. Teyla raises her eyebrows slightly. Asking Sheppard's opinion? Sheppard gives a small shrug, then makes a gesture with one hand, flicking his fingers up - towards his face? his eyes? - and then in the direction of the door. If I had to guess - and I do, since I don't know this language, this intimate lexicon of gestures and expressions they share with each other - I'd surmise he's saying he doesn't know, but we should stay alert and be ready to move if we have to. Teyla inclines her head in a shallow nod. Okay, no guesswork needed there.

An entire conversation without words.

I wonder how long they must have worked together, and how closely, to be able to read each other so well.

(And I definitely do not wonder what it would be like to know somebody that well, to have that level of... intimacy.)

(Though the thought of someone knowing *me* that well does send a shiver down my spine.)

Anyway, Sheppard's advice is good.

I do believe I will follow it.


I clear my throat loudly, breaking the silence, the awkwardness, that seems to have spun itself between Teyla and me.

Actually, my throat is very dry. I eye my canteen longingly, but I've already had my allotment for this hour. I know sucking on a pebble is supposed to help with the dryness but, frankly, ew. I'd rather just wait for my next drink. We're trying to conserve water, as we're not sure how far we are from a river or stream.

(Well, Teyla is 'not certain.' I don't have the first clue. Give me a ship, and I'll steer you true. Give me a city, and not only can I figure out the layout on my first visit, I can also pinpoint every fence and information broker in a twenty block radius. But give me the open countryside and my own two feet? Not so impressive, I'm afraid.)

"So," I begin.

"Yes?"

"Now that we're friends..."

She quirks an eyebrow. "It is good to make friends," she says, cautiously, which is less than the wholehearted acceptance I would like. On the other hand, it's not a denial. I'll take what I can get.

"It *is* good to make friends!" I start to nod enthusiastically, but the sudden spike of pain - as opposed to the constant throbbing ache - reminds me why that's a bad idea. I swallow a wince. "And friends share things with each other." I do my best to look earnest and winsome. "I think it's time we *shared*, Teyla."

(Okay, maybe I let my voice turn just a little bit sultry, adding just the tiniest hint of a purr there, but so what? Flirting is fun. I love to flirt. I find a little lively banter helps an arduous journey pass so much more pleasantly.)

(It would be even more pleasant if I could get her to flirt back.)

"What did you have in mind?"

(Oh, if she could only read my thoughts.)

"Well..." I think for a moment. "You've been with the Lanteans for a little while now, right?"

"Just over three years," she confirms.

"And you've gotten to know them pretty well?"

"Some of them, yes. Not all. The community is large enough now that it would be difficult to know every single one."

"I suppose so. But you're pretty close to your team, yes? And to Elizabeth?"

She inclines her head. "Aside from my fellow Athosians, those are the individuals I have spent the most time with." One corner of her mouth turns up in a wry smile. "And repeatedly saving one another's lives tends to foster a certain... closeness."

I start to nod again, then settle for gently inclining my head. "That's true." I think over the ties I've formed with the various members of SG-1. Yes, there's definitely something to be said for the effectiveness of a shared life-threatening experience as a method of forming solid team bonds. Pity about the downsides.

"So..." I say, drawing the word out, rolling it around on my tongue until she looks back at me with a faintly puzzled expression.

"What is it?"

"Have you, ah, gotten *close* with any of them?" I waggle my eyebrows suggestively. Well, I try to. Not being able to see my face, I'm not entirely certain of the actual effect, but I'm sure it's expressive.

"What?"

I think that's an expression of startlement rather than actual incomprehension. Nevertheless, I repeat the question more plainly.

"Have you had sex with any of them?"

She frowns. "I do not see how that is any of your business. Why do you even want to know that?"

"I'm trying to get to know you," I explain, patiently. "And the rest of your team, of course, but you're the one right here, talking to me."

All true actually. Of course, the reason why I'm choosing this line of questioning, rather than any other, is because it's fun.

I don't think I'm going to tell her that, however.

"I do not see how-"

"So, that was a yes, then?" I override her, grinning a little.

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't say no," I point out. "You actually didn't my question at all. In my experience, that generally means the answer is yes."

"No," she says, firmly.

I raise an eyebrow. "No, that isn't generally the case? Or no to-"

"No, I have not had sex with any of the Lanteans," she says, firmly.

"Oh." I study her thoughtfully. "Why not?"

"Because that is not the nature of my relationship with them. With any of them."

"But it could be."

"No, it could not."

"But why not? There are some attractive guys and gals there. Odds are good you'd be compatible with some of them, even if just on a purely physical level." A horrific thought flashes into my mind. "You haven't taken an oath of celibacy, have you?"

"No, not at all."

Oh, thank the gods. That would be *such* a waste.

"So, why-"

"It is *complicated*," she bursts out, frustration - not necessarily *that* kind - plain in her voice. This time, rather than prodding her further, I just wait. Being a con artist is at least half about knowing when and how to listen. And I get the impression that Teyla has something she wants (needs?) to say.

Seconds pass, lengthening into minutes. The only sounds are the endless trudge-trudge-trudge of our footsteps, the wind in the trees, and the countless small noises made by the wildlife going about their business.

It's funny. I've always thought of the countryside as quiet, but it isn't. Not really. It just has different noises to the city.

I guess I can see why some people might consider it restful, but I don't think that'll ever be me.

Teyla sighs heavily. This is it! I prick up my ears, not wanting to miss a word.

"It is complicated," she says softly, repeating her earlier words.

"What is?" I ask, just as softly.

"I am not just a member of SGA-1. I am also a leader of my people. That is not something I can afford to forget. As well as my missions for the Lanteans, I have another duty, another purpose. I have to take care of my people."

Okay. Not what I was expecting, but okay.

"And you think that indulging in a little physical recreation with the Lanteans would get in the way of that?"

Because, it's one thing to be a workaholic, but this...

"Not directly," she says. She frowns, hesitating for a moment or two, clearly choosing her words carefully. "It is just that... The Lanteans I am closest to, through no deliberate intent on my part, have status within the Expedition." I can really hear that capital-E. "Elizabeth is in overall charge. John is the chief military officer, Rodney the head scientist. They have influence. They can make things happen, or not happen. One way or another, they shape the overall Lantean policies and protocols for dealing with the Pegasus galaxy and its peoples. Including *my* people."

I frown.

"I... don't really see your point, I'm afraid."

A soft sigh escapes her lips. "Relationships, even those intended to be purely physical, can be messy things. If they go wrong, the emotional fallout can be considerable. People - even good people - can turn into festering knots of resentment and hostility towards their former lover. And if those people have the status, the influence, to indulge such hurt feelings... Well, anyone can be tempted." She shrugs. "Better not to take the risk."

"That's a really dark way to look at things," I say, slowly. "I may not know your team-mates all that well, but I don't think any of them would try to hurt your people because of a failed love affair. That's just so *petty*."

She makes a small noise in the back of her throat. "I am not explaining this at all well."

I shrug. "No, I think you're explaining it fine. You're just wrong."

She frowns. "I have my people to think of."

"You have yourself to think of." I move up beside her, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I hear it seals up if you go without for long enough."

She shoots me a Look. "That is not true."

"I've never wanted to risk it," I shudder. "Anyway, orgasms are good for you. The Tau'ri have proven it. With science!"

"I did not say that I have gone without orgasms."

The dryness of her tone means it takes me a moment to register what she's just said.

"Oh. Well, that's good. Very good. A girl should take care of her needs." I smile encouragingly. "Why don't we compare techniques?" Teyla gives me an incredulous look. "Verbally, of course," I clarify. "Practical demonstrations are all well and good, but this is hardly the proper time and place, Teyla," I scold gently. "I'm surprised at you for suggesting such a thing."

Oh, if only I had a camera right now. The look on her face is really just priceless. I shall treasure the memory of it forevermore.

Of course, she regains her equanimity soon enough, even managing a wry smile.

"Of course. What was I thinking?" she asks, rhetorically. To my surprise, her smile broadens, and we spend a profitable few minutes comparing techniques.

Well.

And I really had been thinking she was actually something of a prude.

Just goes to show.

It's always the quiet ones.


"... blah blah blah honour, blah blah blah our peoples, blah blah blah alliance, blah blah blah trade, blah blah blah *blah*. Blah blah. Blah."

Okay, maybe those aren't *precisely* the chief priest-engineer-diplomat-whatever's actual words, but they might as well be. The man can *really* drone on. I swear he takes a positive, malicious delight in using three or four words when one would do, in expressing the same sentiment several different ways.

I guess he just really, really, *really* loves the sound of his own voice.

I have no idea how Teyla is managing to keep smiling, to nod in the right places, to even, gods help her, look *interested* in this blowhard's endless ramblings. It's as much as I can manage not to look actively bored, and I'm usually *very* good at showing people what they want to see.

McKay's still fiddling with his scanner, utterly oblivious to everything and everyone else in the room. As for Sheppard, he's playing the stoic military man to the hilt. Beyond the minimum required courtesies, he appears to be doing his best not to get drawn into the actual talking.

I guess there's a reason Teyla is the official diplomat of our merry band.

As far as I can tell, she seems to be making a pretty good impression on our hosts, but it remains to be seen how much of that will translate into trade advantages.

I let my attention wander a little, my gaze drifting idly around the room. Say what you like about the Amata, they certainly are gracious hosts. It's one of their better qualities, together with their truly *delightful* obsession with making their environment as luxurious and aesthetically pleasing as possible.

My kind of place.

Take this negotiation chamber, for example.

The carpet is so thick and so soft that treading upon it is like walking on clouds. The walls are hung with intricately woven tapestries, each one a work of art. (As well as providing additional insulation against this planet's cold, of course. Practical people, our hosts.) Graceful vaulted ceilings are supported by intricately carved pillars, no two alike.

And, my favourite part, the room is adorned with a number of little trinkets, ornaments and knickknacks. Not too many, of course, it's all rather tasteful, but they're all very pretty indeed.

I wonder if they'd miss one or two...

Without warning, McKay suddenly scrambles to his feet and bolts for the door. He doesn't say so much as a word to any of us, just makes a run for it. Well, he does mumble something incoherent to himself, but I'm not sure that counts.

The diplomat's endless droning falters and tapers off into blessed silence - thank the gods for small mercies - as we look in the direction of McKay's departure. Sheppard is the first one to shake off the surprise.

"I'll go see what crawled up his ass," he says, getting to his feet. "You continue on with the, uh." He gestures vaguely. "Negotiations." He disappears through the door.

The Amatan diplomat - Master Wordsmith Bilal ben Rahman is his name, but I tend to think of him as Windbag ben Talksalot - frowns after Sheppard for a moment, then turns back to Teyla with an expression of slightly offended concern.

"Is there a problem, Master Wordsmith Teyla?"

That's another thing about these people. They like their titles.

Teyla smiles, and it looks absolutely genuine. I'm quite impressed.

"My apologies, Master Wordsmith. My colleague can be rather single-minded in the pursuit of his craft, but I am certain he did not intend any discourtesy. I assume he has discovered something of pertinence to the energy source he has been tracking."

Clever. And technically true.

Which is the best kind of lie.

"Ah, I see," Talksalot says, his expression brightening. "In that case, no offense is taken. Being caught in the grip of a creative fervour is something I can well understand. I look forward to hearing his findings, later."

I kind of get the feeling that last point isn't up for negotiation.

It's going to be... interesting... watching McKay and Windbag talk science. Talk about battle of the egos.

Did I say interesting? I meant hilarious.

Teyla inclines her head graciously, a gesture that coincidentally hides her sudden look of alarm from the diplomat. I guess she doesn't find the thought nearly as amusing as I do.

As the negotiations restart, I can't help wondering what particular bee McKay's gotten in his bonnet this time. He ran out of here like someone had just lit a fire under his arse.

Now, there's an idea.

I eye Windbag speculatively, but decide that the brief satisfaction I'd gain from the act probably isn't worth the cost to my relationship with the Tau'ri.

I could make my excuses and head out after McKay and Sheppard... But I've probably left it too late to do so without calling undue attention to myself.

And I'm warm and comfortable where I am.

And there's still a chance I might be able to 'liberate some of these ornaments without anyone being any the wiser.

Anyway, whatever's gotten McKay so excited, I'm sure we'll hear all about it later.


"So," I say brightly. "Sheppard and McKay. How long have they been together?"

Maybe I should have have asked 'if', but that's so much more boring.

Teyla blinks at me, looking a little nonplussed. "As far as I know, they are not... together. Not romantically."

Yup, 'how long' was *definitely* the right question.

"So, it's just sex?" I ask, hoping to provoke that expression again.

Now she really does look thoroughly discombobulated, which, honestly, I have to count as a win. And it actually looks quite cute on her.

"That is not... I mean, I do not believe they are in a relationship of any kind, beyond being friends and team-mates."

"Really?" I let my eyebrows try to climb all the way up into my hairline, but I don't get a response this time. Too bad. Still, that does raise some interesting possibilities... I grin widely. "You know, we should give them a push. They'd be absolutely perfect for each other. Even better: we need to find out whether or not someone on Atlantis is running a book on if they'll get together. If not, we can start one. Trust me, we'll clean up."

Teyla looks at me for a moment, like she's trying to figure out whether I'm serious. I return her scrutiny with wide, guileless eyes.

I'm not sure it helps.

In the end, she shakes her head and turns her gaze back to our surroundings.

"I understand that the Lantean military has prohibitions about that sort of relationship."

Her tone seems disapproving, which makes me want to smile. I sigh instead. "I know. It's a stupid rule. Although, as far as I can tell, it doesn't actually *stop* such things happening. It just stops people talking about it." I'm quiet for a moment, then I do grin, skipping in front of Teyla and walking backwards so I can meet her eyes. "So, who would you pair each of them with?"

"I do not..." Her eyes flick away, and then back to me. She frowns. "I do not think this conversation is appropriate."

"What? Why? It's not like we have to actually act on it. Or even tell them. It's just a bit of fun. Look, I'll start. I think Sheppard would be good with..." I think about it for a moment. "Ronon."

"What? Why?" I wonder if Teyla realises she's echoing my question to her. "Why do you say that?" The expression on her face is one of horrified fascination, like she doesn't want to know, but she can't help asking the question.

Or, like she thinks she shouldn't be doing this, but she's tempted.

Well, I've never had a problem with leading people into temptation.

"They have a lot in common," I say, slowly, like the answer should be obvious. Deliberately, I leave it there, wanting to know whether she'll overcome her reluctance to ask for more information. (Surely it's not prudishness; not after our conversation earlier. But I suppose different peoples have all kinds of strange hang-ups, even contradictory ones. Especially contradictory ones. Although maybe I've been hanging around the Tau'ri too long.)

"Such as?"

Yes! A point to me.

"They're both warriors. They're both pretty macho guys." I grin at Teyla. "Macho is a Tau'ri word I came across recently. It means someone who is very, very manly. It's a good word. Macho. Macho. Maaaacho. Ahem." I give her a sheepish look. "Sorry. Got distracted. Where was I? Oh, right. They're both very competitive. They enjoy bodybuilding and training and all that physical stuff. Sheppard likes extreme sports, and I feel certain that Ronon would too if given the chance. See? They have common interests."

"That may be true," she says, sounding dubious. "But I do not think that necessarily means they should embark upon a relationship. What of attraction? What of an emotional connection?"

I shrug. "They're both attractive men. And maybe it would just be a physical thing, sort of 'friends with benefits.' That's another Tau'ri phrase."

Teyla blinks, looking completely ruffled.

"You do not even know if they are attracted to men."

"But if they are, then I'm pretty sure they'd be attracted to each other. Anyway, they like sparring together, and it's only a short step from there to sex, so..."

"Sparring is *not* like sex!"

She is so sexy when she's flustered. I let my lips curl into a truly wicked smile, cocking my hip (ow, my ribs!) in her direction and giving her a saucy wink.

"Oh, Teyla," I purr, my voice low and sultry. "Then you're doing one or both of them wrong."

And... I seem to have rendered her speechless.

Victory!

Oh, it doesn't take long for her to put her mask back in place, but that's not the point. I *flustered* her, and we both know it.

I think I'm going to gloat a while.

After a long (okay, not that long) pause, Teyla finds her voice again.

"I do not think it is right to discuss my friends behind their backs in this manner."

"We can say it to their faces if you'd prefer," I offer.

Because... Oh, gods above and below, that would be *priceless*. Even the thought of it is almost enough to make me dissolve into laughter. It would have to be sometime when they're all gathered together, preferably with an audience. The mess hall, perhaps?

Yes, that could-

"Why do I have the feeling that you would do just that?" Teyla sighs, breaking into my thoughts.

"Because you're beginning to get to know me?"

"Perhaps." She takes a deep breath. (And I try not to look concerned about the way it hitches as it puts a strain on her injured stomach.) "In any case, let us press on. We still have a lot of ground to cover."

"I know," I sigh. "I know."

And, for some reason, I don't feel like laughing any more.


I wonder if it's possible for a person to actually be bored to death.

With the way Windbag is droning on, it's a question of more than merely academic interest to me right now. I wonder if there have been studies. McKay would know, if he was here.

Which he isn't.

And I take my hat off to him and Sheppard for engineering a way out of here. Laudable cunning, that. Now, if only I'd taken advantage of it when I had the chance.

Bit late now, though.

Maybe I could feign some kind of medical emergency.

I will say this for the man, though. He drives a hard bargain. Ruthless negotiator, that one, underneath the dull pomposity. Maybe it's all just a cunning ploy; a way of getting the people he's trading with to agree to anything if it means he will just stop *talking*.

No, on reflection, I think he really is that much of a bore.

No one is *that* good at maintaining a facade.

With the exception of yours truly, of course.

Luckily, Teyla also seems to be a mistress of her craft, and is driving a hard bargain or two of her own. Quite impressive, really. I mean, I'm better, of course, but credit where credit's due. She has the makings of a fairly passable free agent in her.

If it wasn't for those pesky limitations of hers in the morality department.

Still, limitations can be overcome. With the proper motivation.

I wonder how I might tempt you, Teyla Emmagan...

Hello, what's going on out there?

I can hear a commotion somewhere else in the building; raised voices, running feet.

Sounds like... trouble.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and a woman rushes in as if all the hounds of hell are snapping at her heels. She's wearing the badge of a Junior Tester - equivalent to a low-level acolyte, or similar, if I understand their hierarchy correctly - and her expression is a mixture of horror and trepidation.

I'm... guessing she drew the short straw here. Interrupting the lord high muckety-muck here to deliver bad news? Yeah, *that*'s going to do wonders for her future prospects. Anyone with any kind of standing at all is going to delegate such shenanigans to someone who doesn't have the standing to refuse.

(Because it just *has* to be bad news. It always is. And things have been going much, much too smoothly up until now. I guess the other shoe had to drop sometime. Honestly, it's almost a relief that it finally has.)

I suppose some things really are universal.

Poor girl. I actually feel a little sorry for her. Well, almost.

I sit up a little straighter on the divan, watching with interest as she almost falls over herself bowing to Windbag.

"Master Wordsmith," she says, gasping out the words. "A thousand thousand apologies for the interruption, but I have urgent news."

Frowning like a thundercloud, he beckons her to approach. She scrambles to her feet and scurries over to whisper in his ear. Which is just plain *rude* if you ask me. I mean, Teyla and I are sitting right here. The rules of courtesy say they should have this conversation out loud. Or they should step out of the room so we have the privacy to eavesdrop.

Honestly, some people have no manners at all.

I strain my ears, trying to hear what she's saying. Unfortunately, I can only make out the odd word or two.

Off-worlders. Trespassed. Shrine. Artifacts. Perfecti.

Blasphemy.

Uh-oh. That's... not good. If there's one thing guaranteed to make a group of people act irrationally, it's messing with their religious taboos.

Believe me, I know.

Keeping my expression blandly pleasant, I shift my weight ever-so-slightly so I can get to my weapons a little easier. We're officially unarmed for the negotiations, of course, which means I only have my concealed load-out.

I mean, I'm not *stupid*. I don't care how supposedly 'friendly' the natives are, there's no way I'm going *anywhere* unarmed. I don't even go to the bathroom without, at the bare minimum, my knives and a holdout pistol.

It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you.

And it's situations like this that prove my... reasonable caution... is justified.

Luckily, I've already figured out several different ways of getting out of here. I can totally take the guards, and even if they prove more of a challenge than anticipated, Windbag here will make a great hostage.

So. With the escape plan sorted, the biggest difficulty is figuring out when to put it into motion.

It's all about the timing, you see.

Too soon, and you risk escalating a situation you might have been able to talk yourself out of. And once you escalate to fisticuffs - or zat fire, or knives, or P90s - it's really hard to step it back down a notch. Not impossible, if you're good enough, but really, *really* hard.

Of course, sometimes if you don't draw first, you don't get to draw at all. And it's always much easier to escape when they don't see you coming.

In this situation right here, though, we're probably better off waiting a little longer before proceeding with Operation: Run Like Hell.

And I *really* want to find out what's going on before we do anything irrevocable.

Luckily, I think Windbag is about to tell us.

The minion, apparently having delivered her message, steps back and to the side little, bowing her head and clasping her hands. The whole 'most humble and patient servant' pose is marred a little by the way her hands tremble, and by the way she keeps sneaking nervous glances at Teyla and I from beneath the hood of her robe. Windbag doesn't notice. All of his attention is now focused squarely on the two of us.

Well.

This should be interesting.


"How are you holding up?" I study Teyla covertly, concerned about the slight hitch in her step, the way her breath has started rasping a little every now and then.

"Well enough, thank you," she says, her voice more level than I would have expected, especially given the slightly glazed look in her eyes. "How about yourself?"

"Surviving." I shrug. "I mean, my hair is a bird's nest, I have grit in places I'd really rather not think about and I'm in serious need of a manicure, but it could be worse. At least we're alive."

"Indeed," she murmurs.

I grin. "Say that again," I say.

She glances over at me. "Excuse me?"

"No, not excuse me. Indeed."

She opens her mouth as if to speak, perhaps to ask a question, but then sighs and shakes her head. "Indeed," she says, obligingly.

"Hmm. No, no. Try a little deeper. More monotone. More emphasis on the second syllable. In*deed*. There. Now you try."

"Vala, what is this about?"

"Just an experiment."

"But to what end?"

"Just humour me, please." I smile encouragingly. "In*deed*."

I make a bet with myself about whether or not she'll indulge me. Honestly, it could go either way.

She rolls her eyes at me and then smiles indulgently.

"In*deed*."

I sigh.

"Hmm. Maybe not. Thanks, Teyla."

I hum quietly to myself.

"Well?" she asks, a few moments later. "What was that for?"

I shrug, and then regret the motion.

"I have a friend, back in SG-1. A non-Tau'ri. The other non-Tau'ri member of SG-1, in fact. He has a very particular way of saying the word indeed. It's kind of his thing. For a moment there, you kind of reminded me a little of him. Well, a couple of octaves higher, of course. Teal'c has a *very* deep voice."

Teyla looks over at me thoughtfully.

"Will you tell me about him?"

I note the sudden focus in her eyes, the spark of interest overcoming the exhaustion and injury-induced dullness, at least temporarily.

Oh well. If it'll keep her focused, I can't see the harm in sharing a little intergalactic gossip.

"Certainly." I consider for a moment. How to begin... "Teal'c has been a member of SG-1 since the beginning. Sometimes I think he's gone native. Certainly, he's helped me figure out some of their stranger customs. Of course, some things are still baffling even when the two of us put our heads together, but that's how it goes with provincial alien cultures, right?"

"Just so," she murmurs, sympathetically.

"Teal'c is a man of few words. I think he prefers to let his actions speak for him." Boy, does he. I let a fond smile curve my lips as I flick back through my memories, recalling some of the more striking examples. "He'll always be Muscles to me."

I sigh dramatically, running my hands up and down an imaginary, well-oiled chest. I sneak a peek at Teyla beneath my eyelashes, curious about her reaction.

She seems amused. And possibly not sure how serious I'm being.

It's always good to keep them guessing.

"He is physically skilled, then?" she asks, mildly.

"You could say that," I drawl. A little more seriously, I add: "He's also one of the leaders of his people." Hmm. Maybe a little too serious. "It's a little project he's been working on in between babysitting SG-1. As if that isn't a full-time task all by itself. And *I* should know. Every time they step through a chappa'ai they get themselves in trouble, and that's *with* my help. I shudder to think what mischief they're getting up to without me. Poor, poor Teal'c." A thought occurs to me. "You know, you remind me of him, a little."

"I do?" she asks, her expression curious. "How so?"

"Well... you know. Non-Tau'ri members of a Stargate team. The whole 'leader of your people' thing. Not to mention how you manage to keep a calm face during all their antics. How do you do it? I've tried asking Teal'c, but he won't tell me." I pout a little, then turn on a winning smile. "But you'll tell me, won't you? On account of how we're such good friends now? What's your secret?"

"You think I am composed?"

Is she joking? I give her a puzzled look, but take her question at face value.

"Yes, of course you are. During this mission alone we've been in situations that would have left most people more than a little discombobulated. But you just soldier on, completely unfazed. Half the time, you already seem to have a plan in mind. So, how do you do it?"

Abruptly, unexpectedly, Teyla starts to laugh. I stare at her, confused, as she throws her head back and gives voice to her sheer, unfettered amusement. She has a nice laugh, melodic and sweet. It's difficult not to join in, but I resist the urge, waiting for her to let me in on the joke.

I wait.

And wait.

After just long enough that I'm starting to worry about things like hysteria and shock, she finally stops laughing. Wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes, she looks at me with an expression I can't quite identify.

"Let me tell you a story, Vala."

"Okay," I say, cautiously.

"There once was a young girl who became the leader of her people long before she felt that she was ready. Truth to tell, she did not think that she would ever be ready for such a heavy responsibility. And yet, she was expected to make decisions that affected lives, often based on information that was woefully incomplete. She was expected to trade with other worlds, obtaining the things her people needed without impoverishing them, but also while not gaining a reputation for trading unfairly. Her people were depending on her. She knew that she could not let them down."

I turn that over in my mind, trying to reconcile the image of that unready young girl with the confident woman standing before me.

I'm not sure I can, not completely. And yet...

And yet.

(I want to change the subject. I want to turn away, to not see this vulnerability she's choosing to show me.)

(I want to.)

(But I can't.)

"So, what did she - you - do?"

"I realised that what my people needed from me, above all else, was confidence. They needed to believe that I had the answers, or at the very least that I was able to obtain them." She smiles, shrugging one shoulder. "So I learned how to show them what they needed to see." Her smile turns wry. "It is surprising how often adopting an expression of wise inscrutability will prompt a group of people to not only come up with a solution to a problem, but to convince themselves that it came from you."

It's true. Act like you know what you're doing, and people will start to believe it. At least until and unless they prove otherwise.

"The human mind is remarkable thing," I agree.

"Indeed." We both share a smile at that. "I made mistakes along the way, of course," she adds, and I nod sympathetically. "But I learned from them. And somewhere along the way, the facade became... real."

"Fake it 'till you make it," I say softly. "Another Tau'ri proverb," I add, in answer to Teyla's enquiring expression. "I collect them. It's something of a hobby of mine."

"It seems apposite." She sighs. "Sometimes, I worry that I am still... faking it," she confides, softly. "When the Wraith came; when my people had to flee their homeworld... It hasn't been easy." She looks up, meeting my gaze, her voice suddenly stronger. "Working with an alien people, trying to make a place among them, despite our differences. It is... difficult, sometimes." Her gaze sharpens. "As I believe you know."

I shrug.

"I suppose so," I say, carelessly. "They can be strange, sometimes. You think you're talking about the same thing and then bam! You run smack bang into an unexpected cultural divide." I shrug again. "It takes time, I guess."

Teyla studies me for a moment, her thoughtful expression making my stomach twist uneasily.

"What is your place among the Tau'ri?"

I frown.

"What do you mean? I'm a member of SG-1, currently on sabbatical. Fairly straightforward, really."

"Yes, but why are you with them? Do you represent a group they are allied with? Or do you share a common enemy?"

I don't like where this is going.

"No group, just me." I let my tone turn brusque and clipped, the better to shut this line of questioning down. "Anyway, speaking of common enemies, how are your injuries?"

She pauses just long enough that I almost think she isn't going to follow my segue (not my most subtle, I admit, but you work with what you have), but in the end she answers my question.

"They have not noticeably worsened. I will examine them properly when we stop for the night."

Did I say answers? I mean evades.

But she isn't pressing me on the other subject, so I'll return the favour.

For the moment.

But once we make camp for the night...

Actually.

I glance up at the sky - what little of it is visible through the leaves - confirming what I've been subconsciously noticing for a little while.

"It looks like it's starting to get dark now. I think it's time to look for somewhere to make camp for the night." I grimace. "I do not want to try to make my way through this obstacle course in the dark."

"Agreed," says Teyla. "Let us look for somewhere defensible."

We trudge onwards, keeping our eyes peeled.

Metaphorically, anyway.

Urgh. That phrase gives me the shivers. I really wish I hadn't thought about it.

Quick, think of something else.

I wonder what kind of wildlife scuttles around this forest at night. And I wonder how much of it is carnivorous.

No, bad thought. Bad thought.

Something else. Anything else.

(Adria.)

Almost anything else.

Hello.

Is that...? Could it be...?

"Teyla," I hiss. I'm not sure why I'm whispering, but I do anyway. "What's that over there?"