Title: The Journal
Chapter Title: Whale Talk
Author: Thayne MacHern
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"And you have no idea who wrote it?" Jennifer asked from across the table, where she was holding Tegan in one arm and feeding herself with the other. Teyla hadn't been able to keep the book to herself any longer, and she'd confided in her friend shortly after they met for dinner. Jennifer had watched with curious--almost envious--eyes and nodded every now and then, thoroughly interested.
Teyla shook her head, "Only that it was someone from my team."
Jennifer smiled when Tegan made a cute noise and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead before replying, "You should let me take a look at it. Maybe I can figure it out." Teyla agreed and they moved on to a different topic as they finished their meal. Once they were done, the two women returned to Teyla's quarters, where they put Tegan down for sleep and the Athosian woman opened the book, flipping to a random entry and moving over so that her friend could read as well.
Entry #6
I'm a mess. I knew a woman once who used to say she was a mess, and I never really understood what it meant. She used to tell me that being a mess meant you were just a mess, and that never made sense to me before, but now I get it. I'm a mess. I'm a mess because I don't know anything now. I don't know how I should act, or what I should do, or how I should be feeling right now. Guess why? That's right: Teyla. Teyla and Michael. The whole thing makes me sick, the way it effected her; the way it hurt her.
She tried so hard. She knew what he was, but she still treated him as a human. She wanted to be his friend. She wanted him to trust her, but I think she also wanted to trust him as well. She truly believed that he wasn't a Wraith any longer. And he wasn't, for a while. For a while, they were close, and that seemed to drive me insane. I think, maybe, I was jealous. It was maddening to me, how quickly they took to one another--the way they looked at each other, like there was some secret between them. He hadn't earned that kind of gentleness from her; he didn't deserve it. So when he found out, and when he began pushing Teyla away, I almost felt...happy? Smug, maybe? It was like, ha, that's what you get for caring about a Wraith. That made me even angrier: how could I think something like that? Teyla has never done anything to deserve what Michael did to her. And I have never felt more pain than I did when I had to watch that fallen look cross her face--that look that said, "I let him down. I betrayed him."
Strike that. I've never felt more pain than I did when I saw her face later, after we all returned to Atlantis after Michael took her. The guilt. The self-judgement. The disappointment. Michael had taken advantage of her mind. There was nothing she could have done about it, but she couldn't let it go. She felt responsible for losing him; responsible for possibly realerting the Wraith to the existence of Atlantis. I hate Michael for making her feel that way. I hate him for hurting her. I hate myself for not being there to protect her. Next time (but, god, I hope there isn't a "next time"), I'll be there; I'll protect her. I won't let her feel that hurt again. She's the most amazing person I've ever known, and there is no reason for her thinking bad of herself.
Jennifer's eyes were wide and she cleared her throat, "Wow."
Teyla finished reading a moment later and took a deep breath, tucking her legs under her and looking away, trying not to remember everything that had happened with Michael, both back then and recently. Her eyes found sleeping Tegan, and she once again thanked the heavens that the team had found them before Michael had had the chance to start his experiments. "Yes, wow indeed."
Jennifer made a thoughtful noise before leaning back against the wall at the head of the bed and tapping her index finger against her chin. "Well, I wasn't here for the 'Michael Experiment,' but I did read all of the mission reports of it. From what I remember," she raised one eyebrow, "Ronon was very aggressive toward Michael; he could be the one who wrote this."
"He was aggressive because Michael was a Wraith," Teyla pointed out.
"Then again, this doesn't sound like this," her friend continued on as if she had not heard her. "I can't imagine Ronon being a writer, let alone a good writer, and whoever wrote this is pretty damn good. Smart. Maybe McKay?" She shook her head, "But McKay could never focus long enough to write something like this. It could be Sheppard, but," she shrugged, "I can't imagine Sheppard having such strong feelings and not acting on them; its not his way."
Teyla hung her head and laughed good-heartedly, "That leaves me right back where I started."
"Sorry." The doctor was quiet for a second before smiling and saying brightly, "Let's read another one!"
"Jennifer, I do not think it would be appropr--"
"Just one more," she begged, "Please? He's so sweet, whoever he is." Teyla just sighed and flipped forward a few pages.
Entry #13
She could have died. She could have died, goddammit, and I wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. It was just lucky timing that we were able to save her. Why? Why didn't she just board the Daedalus with the others that were in her condition? Why didn't she leave? Why did she choose to suffer the headaches, the visions, the pain? Why is she the way she is? If I had lost her--I don't even want to think about it. She was unconscious. She was lying there, and she was sick, and she was hurting, and I could have lost her. God, why can't I stop thinking about it? Why does it keep haunting my dreams? Why can't she just let me be?
I hate it. I hate that I can't stop thinking about her, and the things that could happen to her, and the things that already have. I said that I would always protect her, but what can I do, really? I'm just as helpless as I was when I was a four-year-old boy, caught in a game of keep-away.
Tears were falling now, and Jennifer politely excused herself, laying a comforting hand on Teyla's shoulder before she left. Once she was gone, the Athosian hugged her knees to her chest and buried her head in her skirts. Who was she making feel so small? Who cared for her so much that he was willing to be hurt by her?
