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Part 38/40

-Chapter 37-

Resurgence

Teyla had been in a handful of infirmaries over the course of her relatively short life, and even fewer still had been technologically blessed. After Carson left her alone, she stood in the doorway of the isolation room for a moment, staring at the various machines to keep her gaze from going straight to the bed. All this technology, she thought, and yet they can do nothing for Ronon?

At last she moved across the room to the bed, keeping her eyes turned down to the floor until she got there. She drew in a deep breath, dimly registering the sound of the door closing behind her. When she'd managed to draw a little courage to herself, she lifted her gaze.

Ronon seemed to be asleep. For a brief moment she was reminded of the one time she'd woken up next to him on their paradise planet, how relaxed he was then compared to how relaxed he was now. She didn't like this relaxed – it was too forced. Unconsciousness had brought this look to him, and she didn't like it. If not for the life support Carson had him on, she knew his relaxed expression would be set forever in stone.

A sudden chill, completely internal, made her shiver. Her knees went out from under her, and she vaguely registered a chair catching her as she went down. Dr. Beckett is so kind. . . she thought dimly. Then she remembered her most recent vision, of hands she knew to be Carson's drawing a white sheet over Ronon's face. Another shiver of horror shook her whole body.

There must be something! Teyla thought savagely. There must be something someone can do! This cannot be the end! Absently she reached out to draw one of Ronon's large hands into hers. Hardly thinking about what she was doing, she leaned her forehead against his arm and concentrated. She tried to think like Ronon, to get the same sensations he felt to come to her. In the brief moments they'd shared minds while they'd fought off the Wraith, she'd seen everything in his mind. She knew exactly what to do – all she had to do was get it to happen inside her! She could fix this! She had to fix this!

The only things that welled up inside her were frustration and tears. The Ancestors had chosen to bless (curse?) her with the wrong gift – instead of healing, she'd received precognition that would now, undoubtedly, be her undoing. No matter how much she cast her mind into the future, how far she reached, how hard she searched, the same image of that horrid sheet being pulled over Ronon's white face came to her again and again.

She wanted to scream. Her throat, too choked with tears, wouldn't let her. So she let her tears flow, as she inwardly screamed in pain and agony. Charin had told her long ago that Teyla was a survivor, that everything happened for a reason and Teyla would make it no matter what. She'd sincerely believed the old woman at the time, but now Teyla didn't want to be a survivor. She didn't want her life to come at the too-high price of Ronon's sacrifice.

"We are supposed to be married," Teyla said to Ronon. "You promised." Her voice faltered. "You promised to show me your world, that you would love me forever as I love you forever! What am I supposed to do now? We defeated the Wraith, but what is the celebration in victory if something far more precious has been lost?" She shakily traced the familiar contours of his face with her fingers, lingering on his temple for a moment before going on to stroke his tangled hair. "Why did you do that?"

As she'd expected, her question went unanswered. Defeated, she rested her head on the mattress next to their joined hands and closed her eyes. More tears dripped down her face and onto the blanket. "I never really hated you from the beginning," she said. "I could never hate you. I just thought you were a little forward – you kept doing all these things, and I did not know if I could trust you. I have only ever been hurt by loving someone. . ." Trailing off, she closed her eyes. "It would appear my fortune has not improved." But she couldn't stop loving him. Even if this was the end, if there was no hope left, she could never make herself stop loving Ronon Dex.

There is no brain damage, Teyla thought to herself. Ronon's brain is untouched. And yet here he is. . . Ronon had shouldered too much of the damage that the Wraith had been attempting to inflict on her. Though somehow – miraculously – his brain had remained undamaged, the harm had been rerouted to other parts of his body. His vital organs were, essentially, refusing to work and would soon shut down completely. It made no sense to Teyla. All she could do was furiously blame the Ancestors for allowing this to happen to such a selfless man.

The doors behind her softly swooshed open. Teyla sat bolt upright, ashamedly swiping at her tears with her free hand before turning to face whoever had entered.

Illydia hovered in the doorway, an apologetic smile on her lips. "I'm so sorry to disturb you," she said softly.

"It is fine." Teyla twisted a little in her seat to face the Queen more comfortably. "Is something wrong?"

Illydia hesitated, then lowered her gaze and nodded. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but Dr. Beckett needs you in the morgue," she said. "He wants you to look at the Wraith. Something it said – well, I'll let him explain it to you when you get there."

Teyla's stomach twisted at the thought of leaving Ronon when these could be her last few hours with him, but she obediently stood. Carefully resting his hand on the bed again, she leaned forward and brushed his lips with a kiss. "If you can hear me, my love, I will be right back." She went to join Illydia in the doorway.

The Queen bit her lip, her grey eyes sparkling. "I will stay with him, if you like," she offered shyly. "I – sense you would not like to leave him alone."

Placing her hands on the taller woman's shoulders, Teyla briefly rested her forehead against Illydia's in an Athosian gesture of thankfulness and respect. "Thank you, Illydia," she said softly. "I will try to come back soon."

Illydia nodded and smiled, the motion sweetly innocent despite her teeth. "I promise to take good care of him while you are gone," she promised. After giving Teyla directions on how to get to the morgue, she advanced into the room as Teyla left.

Teyla wrapped her arms around herself as she entered the chilly morgue. "Dr. Beckett?" she called.

The kind man turned from where he was hovering over a figure half-veiled by a sheet. "Ah, lass!" he said. "I'm horribly sorry for calling you here now, with. . ." He trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "But this Wraith said your name right before he died. I dun' know how it's possible, but I thought he looked vaguely familiar, and called you here to see if he looked familiar to you, too."

Teyla rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms as she came to stand next to Beckett. For a moment she stared blankly at the Wraith, then her eyes widened as she recognized the shorter hair, the tattoo pattern on his face, and most of all the expression frozen on his face by death. "Oh Ancestors," she whispered.

Carson nodded. "Ay, I thought so. It's the Wraith that came into camp and tried to kill you."

"And hit you over the head," Teyla said absently. She continued to look into the Wraith's face, fury welling up into her belly. "I wish he were not dead yet," she said between her teeth.

Beckett looked at her, eyes wide with surprise. "Lass!" he ejaculated, shocked.

Teyla's hands curled into fists. "That is the monster that caused Ronon's injuries!" she hissed. "I wish he were not dead so I could kill him myself!" Her voice broke.

Fate really did have a cruel sense of humor.

"Aw, lass, shh," Carson said. He gently pulled her into a hug and patted her back, murmuring soft words in her ear. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have called ye in here. . ."

"No, I am glad you did." Teyla leaned back and wiped away her tears, giving the doctor a thankful smile. "At least now I know for certain sure that he is dead. Otherwise – I would never have known, and that would have bothered me greatly."

Carson patted her shoulder. "I'd best let ye get back to Ronon," he said. "Again, lass, I'm so very sorry for callin' you away from him. I feel horrible."

"Please do not," she begged him. "It is – fine." After giving Beckett's hand a sisterly squeeze, she left the room to hurry back to Ronon's isolation area. The closer she got, the more she hurried her steps. What if she'd already missed Ronon's last few moments? She'd never forgive herself. . .

The doors opened. Teyla stepped into the room, mouth open to thank Illydia for staying with Ronon while she'd gone to see Beckett. . .

Illydia looked up, her eyes wide when she saw Teyla. The covers were pushed down to Ronon's waist, the top of his infirmary pajamas ripped from the neck almost down to the bottom hem. Illydia's right hand rested atop his chest, the tip of her middle finger pressed to the base of Ronon's exposed throat.

"What are you doing?" Teyla cried. Betrayal and fury washed through her as she ran across the room, already drawing her knife from its sheath at her waist. "You betrayer!"

"Wait!" Illydia pulled her hand from Ronon's chest and held both her hands up, quickly backing away from him. "Please, I promise you, Teyla, it's not what it looks like! Please!" Her back hit the wall, and she slumped down it, her left hand going to the floor to hold her up. "Please, I was trying to help him," she whispered.

"By making his death come quickly?" Teyla asked scornfully. "How could you? I trusted you, I believed you! We both did!" She was careful to keep her body between Illydia and Ronon, her knife ready to be used should the Wraith try to get to him again.

Illydia leaned her head back against the wall. "I promise I was not trying to hurt him. . ." she whispered tiredly.

"Mi nanga. . ." The moan came from behind her.

Teyla spun, knife still clutched in her hand. "Ronon?!"

Gazing at her from half-veiled green eyes, he propped himself on one elbow and reached out a hand to rest on her arm. "You're okay," he said, relieved.

"I?" Teyla almost squeaked. "But you – and she – and—!" She spun back to Illydia. "What did you do?"

Illydia looked up briefly to offer a shaky smile. "The Wraith do not like to admit it, but we do have the ability to heal," she whispered. "I used some of my life to repair the damage to his internal organs, so he will not perish."

"But—" The world spun and tilted dizzily around her. How was this even possible?

The Queen chuckled dryly. "Face it, I can spare a little," she said tiredly. "I will be fine in a few hours. I must hibernate, to regain my strength. . ." She trailed off, eyes closing as she reached up to tap a previously unnoticed device in her ear twice. Then she lay down, curling up into a fetal position right there on the floor.

Hurried footsteps approached from in the hall. Teyla spun back to Ronon, her knife falling from her senseless hand. "Ronon?"

He cupped her face in his hands and smiled. "I think we're going to be okay now, Teyla – mi nanga, my betrothed."

Teyla leaned into his chest as the med team swarmed around Illydia. She could believe him now.

-To Be Continued-