Spoilers: Because of some similarities, this may contain unintentional spoilers up to and including Season 4, Vengeance.
Rating: T for some mild language.
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters associated with it.
Chapter Six
Teyla closed her eyes against the vertigo and jerked awake when she sensed the ground rushing up to meet her. Heavy arms surrounded her waist, and she found herself tucked against a naked, masculine body. Teyla brought up her hands and shoved against his chest, a scream trapped in her throat.
"Shhh... Teyla, relax. You've had a bad dream. Look at me, Sweetheart."
Gentle fingers curved under her chin and tugged upward. She raised her eyes and met his sober gaze.
"Michael?" She pulled back enough to see his face. Gone was the morbid blue tint, replaced by stubble-coated, tanned skin. "What have you done? Where is Ronon?" She pushed harder against his chest and kicked him under the plush blankets. How had she ended up here?
Michael uncurled one arm from around her waist, grasped her wrists, and trapped her legs around with his own limbs.
"Let me go."
"Teyla, be reasonable."
"Reasonable? You have taken me from Atlantis. How?" She rotated her arms in a circular motion, and his fingers lost their hold. She gave three fast jabs, catching him once on the cheek and twice on the chin.
Michael pressed his lips in a thin line, his voice low, as his eyes locked with hers. "Stop it. This isn't helping."
She made a grab for the lamp on the side table, but Michael shook his head.
"Don't... you love that lamp. Remember the old lady who made it especially for us?" He snagged her upper arms and squeezed, exerting enough pressure to get her attention, stopping shy of pain.
"You dreamt of Atlantis. Ronon, I presume?" Michael's expression clouded as his cool eyes tracked her face. With a long sigh, he brushed a light kiss across her parted lips and settled back against the pillows, dragging her with him. He tucked the fuzzy blankets around her trembling shoulders. Once settled, he turned his head toward hers with a morose smile. "You still miss them, after all this time."
Teyla frowned. "Time, Michael? A moment ago, I was in the gym wrestling with Ronon and talking about his--"
"Hangover, yes I know the dream well. You've had it often enough over the past year." Michael tipped his head to one side and frowned. "I thought the dreams would fade. Do you remember how you came to be here with me?"
Teyla's confusion must have registered on her face, because pain bloomed across Michael's features, and his arms slipped from around her.
She slid away, hugging the blanket to her chest when she realized she wore nothing beneath the bedding. "No, I am sorry. I do not remember. Where are my clothes? I want to go home—to Atlantis."
Michael sat up and turned away. The light seeping through the purple and blue stained glass doors outlined his clenched jaw. "You are home." He climbed from the bed and padded across the room. The taunt muscles in his bare back, buttocks, and thighs rippled in the early morning shadows.
A flash of awareness washed over her and heat flooded her face.
He turned and shot her a knowing smile. "At least you still have feelings for me." At her negative headshake, he continued, "Even if you deny them. I feel everything you feel, Teyla. We are bonded. Lying is impossible." He opened the doors; warm light bathed the room. He turned and held out a hand. "Come here... please."
Teyla clutched the blanket tighter and slid from the bed. She placed one foot in front of the other, taking one slow step at a time. Her eyes scanned the room—for what she did not know.
When she reached Michael's side, he took the blanket and draped it over her shoulders, letting it fall in folds around her chilled body. He wrapped an arm around her waist and took her hand in his as he tugged her through the doorway.
Sea salt and sunlight; the air smelled heavy with both as she stepped onto a balcony overlooking turquoise waves capped with frothy white bubbles. The cry of aquatic birds echoed off the steel and glass city spread out around them.
Dizzy, Teyla stumbled toward the railing, peering at the swirling water below. "How is this possible?" Had reality suspended itself? She glanced at the city vista, noting the dings and damage inflicted since her arrival. No trick, this; Atlantis, battle-scarred and repaired with love and dedication by Rodney and the expedition members, filled her vision. She sent a quick prayer to the Ancients for clarity of thought and they answered with another waive of dizziness. She sank downward, losing her grip on the railing.
Arms caught her before she hit the rough ground. Her world tipped as Michael carried her back to the bed. She raked her nails over his smooth chest, scoring his flesh until his blood seeped over her fingers. "Put me down... now!"
He held firm. "Hush now, be still. You're going to be fine." He settled her on the mattress, which sagged when he joined her.
His whispered words penetrated her fugue; she wilted.
"Teyla, I realize you don't remember, but hear me out." He pulled her close and stroked her hair, working out tangles with his fingers. "Atlantis fell over a year ago while trying to fight the Wraith. You, Dr. McKay, Dr. Beckett and a few other military and scientists were the only survivors. Rodney and Carson managed to mass-produce the retrovirus and turned the attacking Wraith into humans long enough to relocate them, but not fast enough for most of the expedition. Weir, Sheppard... Ronon, they all died. I'm sorry."
"No! You lie." Teyla recoiled. With a flick of her wrists, she tried to extract herself, but he clamped down on her forearms.
"Shhh, no, Teyla, stop struggling and listen." When she stilled, he captured her face and forced her to meet his eyes. "I told you, we're bonded. I can't lie to you. Look inside my mind. You'll see the truth." truth truth
His eyes held hers as the room dropped away. He showed her the fall of Atlantis. Dr. Weir's death at the hands of the Wraith had enraged Colonel Sheppard, and he fought and killed the Wraith who had taken Weir's life. Sheppard gasped his last breath as the Wraith Queen drained his life force; Teyla watched his essence glow as he ascended.
The elusive quality that made Ronon an ideal runner prevented his death by feeding. No, the Wraith stabbed him and dumped his body over the balcony into the frigid water, his blood turning the sea burgundy for one moment in eternity before the great depths swallowed his remains.
Michael, who had been on Atlantis under Dr. Beckett's care while he underwent Retrovirus-M treatments, helped with clean-up efforts. He had been assisting the injured when he'd stumbled across Teyla, wounded and near death. He had rushed her to the infirmary where Beckett had worked to save her life. She'd needed blood, and Michael, compatible due to their similar human/wraith status, had donated his. Beckett had nursed her back to physical health while Michael had tackled her sanity.
Michael had filled a void left by the passing of Sheppard, Ronon, and Elizabeth. His close proximity during her recovery provided the nudge both needed. They had held the bonding ceremony in the Atlantis gatrium. Michael had sealed the amalgamation with a kiss, the blue event horizon a shimmering backdrop to their joining.
"No." Teyla jerked away from his gaze, severing the connection just as the door chimed.
"Come in," Michael called, and the door slid open.
Carson Beckett entered. He crossed to the bed, sat on the edge, and with a look at Teyla, opened his arms.
Teyla slid into his embrace, sobbing. His hands felt hot where they cupped her pale cheeks.
"Ach, there, there lass, you're fine. I'm here." He tipped up her face and searched her eyes. "Let me have a look at you, now."
She flinched and squinted when the flash of his pen light penetrated her eyes. "Carson, tell me none of this is real. Tell me I am dreaming."
"I wish I could, but unfortunately, Michael speaks the truth." He took her pulse and performed a quick medical scan. "Would it make you feel better to speak with Rodney?" Her quick nod pulled a reluctant smile from the doctor. "I thought as much. I'll send him to see you shortly. First, let me give you something to help you relax." He pulled a syringe from his pocket and uncapped the long needle.
"No. I don't want to relax." Teyla scrambled backwards, colliding with Michael's chest. He held her arm while Beckett slid the needle in and depressed the plunger. She felt the prick and burn as the liquid invaded her body. The room turned fuzzy around the edges.
She watched Michael as he eased her down and adjusted the blankets, his eyes on Beckett's face. His question floated through the fog spreading in her mind. He asked about her health. Beckett's reply sounded warbled, but she caught most of it, indicated she had suffered a shock and needed time to adjust. Darkness loomed. She fought it, grabbing Michael's arm.
He leaned close, stroking her hair. "Rest; I'll be right here when you wake." His cornflower blue eyes creased as his lips whispered across her cheek, stirring her senses. Beckett stood to leave, and Michael rocked her as she slipped over the edge into drugged slumber.
TBC