Stephen lost track of the time, as they lingered by the reflecting pool, the weight of his responsibilities set aside as he hadn't allowed himself in what felt like forever-his only obligation become the most simple and natural of them all: that of man to woman. Despite his burgeoning desire, he remained quite conscious of Teyla's inexperience, while rediscovering the bliss of slow, deep kisses for the first time since his youth—before kissing became a means to an end, rather than a pleasure in and of itself. Her gradual, gentle surrender to him thoroughly conquered his heart, as she allowed his lips to trail from her mouth to the delicate skin beneath her ear, and then along her neck. Teyla breathed hard in surprise as he brushed aside the thin strap of her dress so that his lips could wander the tender flesh of her shoulder; she leaned her head back as he kissed his way to the hollow of her throat, while he savored her warmth and the small sounds of pleasure she gave over to him.

Relishing how Teyla clung to him, and how softly she yielded to him with each small advance, Stephen found her lips again, tasting her willingness in the play of their tongues, while he traced his fingertips upon her bare skin exposed by the neckline of her dress. The pounding of her heart, so near his touch, found its answer in the beat of his blood, emboldening him further. She moaned irresistibly when he finally laid his palm against her breast; though he dared not seek to touch her flesh beneath the flimsy material quite yet, he cupped her gently, noting the firmness of her youth, as well as the effect of his touch upon her. He knew in that moment that he was the first man to ever touch her in that way-that realization enough to dizzy him, and make him ache for more. He opened his eyes, needing to see her as she panted her earnest response.

The moonlight had painted Teyla's skin with a glow akin to the luminescence of her astral form, and the sudden thought of how she might look with all her skin revealed, ripe and ready for the taking, was nearly too much for Stephen to bear. He'd been alone, without the soft comfort of a woman in his bed for so very long, though his life had been too full since he began his training at Kamar-Taj for him to even miss it—but he wouldn't dream of violating her innocence, or profaning her precious trust, despite the sweet temptation she presented. Teyla felt his change of heart before he'd even stemmed his ardor, and she looked up at him, puzzled—but closed her eyes when he reached to stroke her cheek. "Too much, too soon?" she whispered, reading him all too well.

"Yes, honey," he admitted, "Much too soon." Stephen shook his head, remorseful for his lack of discipline, "Forgive me, Teyla. Please. I shouldn't have let things get so out of hand." She opened her eyes, solemn and accepting his choice without protest, nodding quietly. He smiled despite the disappointment that was settling into his bones, hoping she could read everything he was feeling. "You just…" he exhaled slowly, striving to calm the need roused by their encounter. "You make me want to go fast, honey. You make me want it all," he confessed, "But you deserve so much better than that, Teyla. You deserve for us to take our time."

She nodded, gifting him with a sweet little smile, "As you wish, Stephen. I would follow your lead in this, as in all things now." Made shy by his honest admission, Teyla cast her eyes downward, as she told him, "I have never felt this sort of…," her voice caught at the thought, "…physical longing before, and I know that I must rely upon your judgment…and restraint."

Silently, he studied her face by moonlight, memorizing the mix of trust and newly awakened desire which she wore. By some unknown miracle Teyla saw him as is best possible self, believed in him fully, and in this moment at least, wanted him. Stephen vowed to do everything he could to live up to the man he saw reflected in eyes. "Well then-it's gotten quite late, Teyla," he told her, past the lump of regret in throat; regret for losing his head, regret for having to turn away a sweetness so willingly offered. He allowed himself to stroke her check tenderly one last time, and then leaned back, ruing the necessity of Teyla withdrawing her hands from his neck and chest. He stood and held out his hand to her, "We should probably head back now."

"Yes, of course," she replied, placing her hand in his, her dark eyes fixed upon him, "The moon rides high in the sky, and morning cannot be far off." And though he had not mentioned any need to be circumspect, she must've known it was on his mind. "Have no worry, Stephen," Teyla advised him, daring to brush her fingertips through the fringe above his brow, "She will keep our secret close—and when she shines again, we will remember with quiet joy, the way we tarried here."

They passed in companionable silence, back along the path which they had taken to the water's edge, no longer shy should they brush against one another, by accident or design. Instead, Teyla tucked her hand cozily in the crook of Stephen's arm, while he shortened his stride to match her smaller gait, all the while wishing their evening wouldn't have to end at all. The garden had been closed to the public hours earlier, and upon reaching the exit, they discovered that the gates were locked-but that was no impediment to their departure; it only required a small magic to undo, which Stephen worked with a mere thought and a wave of his hand. A few minutes later, they stood in a secure spot, free of any witnesses, where he could conjure a portal back to the sanctuary of Kamar-Taj, across the city.

Stephen drew his sling ring from his pocket, thought better of it for a moment, and closed his fist around it. "C'mere," he said quietly, tugging her closer, "I believe we still have time for a proper kiss goodnight." Teyla gazed up at him, starry-eyed and kiss-dazzled, her lips still tender and swollen from this first lesson in moonlight kisses. He was glad for the late hour and the cover of darkness, for anyone seeing them together-and observing her lovely mien-would know at once what they'd been up to. Despite his misgivings about his own behavior, he could not regret the pretty glow she wore for him now.

And surely he'd taught her well-for she draped her arms around his neck without hesitation, rising up on her toes a bit to better reach his lips. Teyla settled hers softly on his at first, while running her fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck, and then parted her lips at his cue to deepen the kiss. Thus one last time, before goodnight, he tasted her sweetness, knowing that in the dark hours that would separate them until morning, her flavor would linger in his mind and heart, and if he dreamed, she'd be there too.

Stephen awoke the next morning wearing the same sort of smile that had seen him into sleep. He lay still for a few minutes, watching the dust motes dance in the slats of sunlight falling through his window, allowing himself to consider the sweetness of the night before, and wondering how long it might be until his path crossed with Teyla's today. He stretched, sat up, and decided he could very well find a way to ensure that their paths did cross, sooner than later, and imagined the quiet smile that would light her face at such an unexpected encounter. Her smile alone would make it worth the while.

He stopped to grab a cup of coffee and a date & raisin cake in the dining hall, mulling over the conversation that awaited him once he reached his intended destination. Stephen scanned the room quickly, and spotted Teyla seated with a group of fellow Adepts. He let his eyes linger upon her, sending a hopeful thought along the way, testing the limits of the silent communication that seemed to have developed between them. In only a few expectant heartbeats she had raised her face and noticed him across the room. He watched as her eyes widened and she raised a hand in greeting—and he swore he felt the sigh she gave, as a pleasant prickling on the back of his neck, before she turned back to the conversation at her table.

Wong was with a Novice who Stephen didn't recognize—not unusual, with the amount of time he spent away from Kamar-Taj. The novice was nodding at the stern monologue being delivered by the Chief Librarian, as he piled books into the young man's arms. Stephen chuckled, knowing that Wong's foreboding manner was meant to inculcate a respect not only for the physical materials on loan, but for the timeless wisdom contained within them.

The Novice scurried away with his arms full, passing Stephen without even a nod of recognition. He called to Wong as he approached him, "Putting the fear of god in them this early in the day, Wong? Your streak remains unbroken."

"I do what I can, Stephen," Wong replied, collecting a few discarded texts from a nearby table, "Though I recall it never quite worked with you." He quickly slid the books back into their places, then turned to Stephen, "To what to I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?"

"I'm well, thank you," Stephen parried—delaying a few moments more, the topic that Wong might not find so welcome, "And yourself?"

"I'm fine—although I really don't have much time for chit-chat right now." And that would be Wong-speak for 'get on with it, man'.

"Right," Stephen answered briskly. Certain about what he needed to say, he felt at a loss for how to exactly to begin—but Wong's curtness would brook no delay, so that he made an awkward start, "I just, uh…well I was hoping to, uh…get your advice regarding a…situation that has…developed…recently."

"A 'situation'?" Wong eyed him thoughtfully, "Is it something serious, or just something inconvenient? Is there some menace to Kamar-Taj, or a threat against Earth? Or have the kitchens just run short of yak-cheese again?"

Stephen huffed at Wong's dry humor; he would never say so aloud, but he believed that some of his own sarcastic wit had rubbed off on the dour librarian. He shrugged, and drew a hiss of breath through clenched teeth, "No. No, it's, uh…not anything Earth shattering." He nodded to himself, treading as carefully as he could, so as not to reveal more than was necessary. "It's of a more…personal nature…"

Wong narrowed his eyes curiously, "Personal? Since when do you seek my advice on personal business?"

Never, thought Stephen, even though you're one of the few real friends that I've had in…a dozen years, at least. As his successes in his field of medicine had multiplied, and he had risen to prominence unparalleled by any of his colleagues, Stephen had been too driven to invest any time in cultivating friendships. He had been too selfish and filled with his own self-importance to give of himself beyond the superficial. Instead, he'd had admirers and a good share of sycophants seeking to ride his coattails; he'd had drinking buddies, and a series of no-strings-attached lovers—his on-again, off-again romance with Christine Palmer the only semi-committed relationship of any sort, which he had managed in decades. He'd never had the time or patience to be a true friend to anyone throughout his very solitary journey—and thus he had relied upon his own council when it came to even the thorniest of ethical questions.

"Ah well, I guess you're in luck, Wong," Stephen answered with sass enough to belie the seriousness of his concerns, "'Cuz today seems the perfect day to begin."

Wong folded his arms across his chest, smirking and raising a single brow, waiting for Stephen to proceed.

"Okaaaaaaay," Stephen continued, prepared for Wong's further skepticism; just rip that bandaid right off now, he told himself. "I, um…well, I need to know…what exactly are the prohibitions regarding personal relationships here in the compound?"

"Personal relationships," Wong repeated, any sign of potential amusement gone from his eyes, "Stephen-what are you talking about?"

Stephen took several steps closer, his hands spread wide in a show of sincerity, "To be fair, there have been some unique and…pretty extenuating circumstances…"

Wong continued to eye him suspiciously, his arms still crossed somberly, as he awaited the full explanation.

"…and I didn't intend for it to happen…but it just came so…naturally…," Stephen maintained haltingly, "…and the moonlight…well, the moonlight just…got into my blood." Wong remained impassive, the only hint of reaction his slightly widened eyes. "You have to understand, we've got a connection that's felt far deeper than that of teacher and student…almost from the start…" Stephen knew how it sounded—like pure rationalization. But he also knew it was simple truth, and he realized that he wasn't looking for Wong's—or anyone's-approval.

Wong closed his eyes and shook his head. "Teyla. I should've known," he muttered, then looked back to his friend, refraining from judgment as best he could, "What happened?"

Recalling the evening's delicious trespass, Stephen felt a tingling warmth in his fingertips at the fresh memory of how Teyla had felt beneath his hands. He couldn't suppress a small, crooked smile. "I guess it's been building for a while now. She's not like any woman I've ever known. She's so…genuine," he explained, feeling the truth of it in his soul, "She's kind and gentle and…big-hearted…but she's got a real strength to her. beneath the softness she shows to the world…"

Wong shook his head, frowning as he considered his reply, and Stephen ineptly rushed to fill the silence, "She's got that empathy thing…you know? And all along, she's been…reading me. Not intrusively, not intentionally. It's just her nature. So she just…knows things…things I'd never say. Things I would normally keep to myself." He narrowed his eyes, searching Wong's face for a glimmer of understanding. "And just lately, there's been this…connection between us…and somehow I'm starting to read her too. Know what she's thinking at times...and even what she's feeling It's astounding, Wong. Words can't do it justice."

"And that justifies…whatever it is you're confessing to me?"

"It's not like that," Stephen insisted, "Things have been different since New York. Even in the midst of her grief, she was doing things to help me." He held his hands—still tremor free—up as an example...though the nightmare she had soothed him through was something he would not share. "There's a deep-seated bond between us now—but I'm sure I'm failing miserably to explain it."

Wong rolled his eyes and muttered quietly in his native Cantonese, before asking, "And you're sure this isn't just a case of hero worship, or one of a middle-aged man searching for his lost youth in a younger woman?"

Stephen's reply—one that he meant to give with patience and utter honesty—died on his tongue, as a trio of Novices entered the library. Seeing the Masters in conversation, they hurried towards a table, quieting their conversation as they moved away. Wong motioned for Stephen to follow him, and the two men withdrew into the stacks which housed the more esoteric of texts.

"Believe me, Wong," Stephen assured him, quietly enough that his voice would not carry beyond them, "I've been second guessing myself every step of the way. But when I'm with her…" Stephen nodded, more to himself than to his friend, "When I'm with her, everything makes perfect sense."

Wong looked at him grimly, "Stephen, please—just tell me you haven't taken things too far."

Eager to defend her honor, Stephen answered in a heartbeat. "God no—I wouldn't. I swear it. A couple of evenings we walked and talked under the stars…" And then, because confession was supposed to be good for the soul, he admitted, "And we pitched a little woo by the light of the moon—but nothing happened for either of us to feel ashamed about." He didn't add that both he and Teyla hadn't really wanted to assert such discipline.

"With her empathy," …and from her dreams, he thought, but would not say, "Teyla has seen me for what I was…my very selfish, checkered past…my stupid pride…my wealth of mistakes…and she understands and urges me to forgive myself." To his relief, Stephen thought it appeared that Wong's reservations were weakening. "Beyond any logic whatsoever, she believes I'm a better man now, than I ever was. And she makes me want to be that man, Wong…"

"You are that man, Stephen," Wong told him candidly, "We all believe in you…"

Stephen shrugged, truly humbled by Wong's assertion, "Well then—she makes me able to believe in myself. That I'm not just bluffing my way through," he waved his hands at their surroundings, "Through all of this."

Shaking his head, and hands on his hips, Wong paced several feet along the aisle, then back again, probably deciding if Stephen's profession was justification enough to excuse his behavior. Wong's earnest question came as a surprise, "What do you want out of this relationship, Stephen? At the heart of it all, what are you hoping for?"

Searching his heart, dissecting his own motives, the truth revealed itself as he found words for his reply, "I want what's best for Teyla, Wong. Only what's best." Again, Stephen's answer was more for himself that for his friend, "She's capable of a multitude of miracles, and I want her to grow into her amazing potential. I want the…blessing…of watching her follow the path that fulfills her." His voice grew husky with conviction, "I want her to be happy, Wong—wherever that path takes her…and I want to protect her as much as I can from anything that would dim her bright, beautiful spirit."

Wong remained silent, studying Stephen's face for a while, then sighed deeply, "In that case, I don't think a relationship between the two of you actually violates any stricture or tradition here in Kamar-Taj. It's never been so much a rule anyway; it's more of a guideline easily followed by the wise and the enlightened."

Yes, Stephen exclaimed inwardly, thankful that his perpetually toughest critic had withdrawn his objections.

"Though I wish you had chosen more judiciously to begin with," Wong grumbled his version of 'I told you so', "If this is how you honestly feel, I think you can safely remain her mentor—though allowing Teyla to do field work with you is absolutely out of the question. That's where you might be compromised—but you're wise enough to know that already."

Stephen hung his head down for a moment, relieved at Wong's surprising indulgence, though his friend had more to add. "I would advise you to remain prudent, however; scandal is rare in Kamar-Taj, but any advancement Teyla obtains might be seen as not having been achieved by merit alone…"

"Absolutely," Stephen averred, eager to share his sincerity.

"And, Stephen," Wong said, most seriously, "Keep in mind that we have a crucial alliance with Hadeeth. If you should hurt this young woman in any way…if you break her heart...you'll be jeopardizing a key element in Earth's defense against dark forces across the multiverse."

Stephen nodded vigorously, "Don't think that hasn't been on my mind as well, Wong…and I don't intend to be the man to face the kind of wrath that Moraine would bring upon us, for her daughter's sake." He held up his hands again, and placed his right hand on the center of his chest, "I swear to you—I swear for Teyla's sake—I'd see these hands broken and useless again, before I'd ever hurt her. Before I'd ever hazard her precious, tender heart."

Hours and hours passed until Stephen finally had the opportunity to speak with Teyla. He had wanted to all day, but between her lessons and his own obligations, that coveted, simple pleasure proved elusive. After dinner, he found her reading in the courtyard-from the tablet he had leant her months ago-so that he came up beside her casually, and gently nudged her arm, "Studying, honey—or catching up with a good book?"

She turned his way immediately, her face unguarded, clearly delighted that he had joined her. "Well," she informed him gently, "I was hoping you would find me here." A pretty blush bloomed upon her cheeks as she admitted in her quietest voice, "I have been unable to think of little today except…" Teyla lowered her lashes in an honest show of bashfulness, and Stephen felt like he couldn't breathe again until she raised her eyes back to his. "Except for wishing you would find your way to me and hold me like you did last night. And kiss me some more. And…and…" She exhaled so slowly that Stephen just knew her heart was racing as much as his own, "And touch me again with your beautiful hands." At last, she braved meeting his eyes once more.

"Oh god, Teyla…" How he loved how she soft she became when he spoke her name! "This isn't going to work if you look at me like that," he murmured, "Especially when all I want right now is to do exactly what you've been wishing for."

That, of course, brought the sunshine smile, which he'd been craving all day long, to sweet fruition. And though he was helpless at the moment to give in to the fresh ache for closer contact-which they shared in equal measure-Stephen found his patience was up to the challenge of waiting for their share of such moments that promised to leave him so happily breathless.

As if she knew exactly what he was feeling, she leaned a little closer, innocently enough, but still testing his discipline. "Might we walk by moonlight once again, Stephen? I have completed all my studies for the day, in that fair hope."

"I hadn't thought to, honey," he murmured, watching her slightly parted lips, envious for an immediate taste of them, "But once the sun sets…well maybe we can…discretely, of course." So near to her, he noticed that her hair smelled of honeyed coconut, and he imagined how divine it would feel to weave his hands through it before he buried his nose and mouth against it, on his way to tasting the tender skin of her neck again. "There's a fruit stand three streets over from the south gate. The awning above it is striped purple and yellow…"

"Yes, yes I know it," she whispered, whetting her lips, making him ache for dark all the more, "I will be there as the sun's light leaves the sky, my…" Teyla closed her eyes, surely weighing the wisdom of calling him her own, "my Stephen." She stood up from her place, and nodded him farewell, and then left without looking back—as careful as she could be, to keep any eyes witnessing their meeting from inferring anything but a casual conversation, ended nearly as soon as it had begun.

Stephen swallowed hard and sighed, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she passed from the courtyard. Careful, man, he cautioned himself, already planning a longer route to the fruit stand, to avoid them meeting up too close to the compound. He had answered Wong's query about what he wanted, and he had honestly meant every word of his reply. But he knew now that besides wanting only the best of things for Teyla, he wanted her as badly as he'd wanted any other woman in his past. Wanted her more, to his surprise, and with an immediacy that made his heart feel like it might pound right out of his chest.