The Value of a Memory Is
Chapter Nine - First Step
They were in a forest. Tall, leafy trees towered over them, shifting green light onto the ground below. Clumps of ferns clung to the shade, and birds could be heard calling to each other overhead.
It called home to Teyla. Her body and soul ached for it, a deep longing that Atlantis, in all its glory, could not cure. She knew the forest; every tree, every bush, every dangerous root and treacherous rock.
But it was too perfect. Recreated from memories, the blanks filled in with warm emotion and fondness for a place she had lost. There was something about the landscape that felt odd to her, alien and cold. Even if Teyla had not seen the computer doorway stood beside a large tree, the undercurrent of danger was enough to dispel her hope.
"Teyla, wait."
She could hear Sheppard hurrying after her, but she did not slow her feet, still angry on McKay's behalf. The man was arrogant, yes, but he was also a friend, and the two men seemed to have forgotten that.
The Major trotted up beside her, his expression one of remorse. "Look, I'm sorry."
She shot a dark glance at him. "It is not me you should apologize to."
Sheppard flushed slightly. "This is a group game. We shouldn't split up."
Behind him she could hear the clumsy trek of McKay, snapping twigs and crushing dry leaves under his feet; and Aiden, full of apologies and small jibes designed to get the scientist talking. Softening slightly at the sounds of attrition, Teyla allowed: "Perhaps not. Nevertheless," and she nodded towards her goal, "this is my memory. I must be the one to complete it."
Ahead lay the informal arena chosen for all matches. A patch of land had been cleared within the forest, stripped of all plant life until only the red earth remained. Several uprooted trees provided seats to the crowd, when there was one. Most challenges went unseen, training matches between mentor and student. Teyla had spent much of her childhood here, in her younger years watching the older warriors with awe, then later in the circle herself, struggling to match her father's blows.
Despite the power behind each stroke, he had never struck her. Her father could stop a swing in midair, and though the unreleased energy sent vibrations down his arm and chest, his weapon would not falter.
The skill was the second he had taught her. The first, and the most important, was knowing when to use force, and when to use words.
This would be her first challenge. Few were accepted into the circle but she had worked hard and earned her place amongst the warriors, though females were still rare and she was younger than all of them. This was a chance to prove herself, to achieve all her father hoped for her. To find her place, and be happy there.
"Teyla."
The cough from Sheppard pulled her unnervingly back into the present. He was looking at her with an expression of concern, and behind him Ford and McKay carried the same quizzical faces.
"What's going on?"
"The circle ahead of us is where I learnt to fight, Major. My people used it as a training ground, to learn the skills passed down from our predecessors." She looked ahead and saw several figures stood in the clearing. "Its position changes over the seasons, as the ground is washed away by the rain, but it survives. There is one on the mainland, just as there was one on Athos. I…" Her voice trailed off, her attention drawn to a large man sat on a tree trunk to the right.
His shoulders, the curve of his back, the light of the sun on his hair. His large hands folded in his lap.
"Teyla?"
She blinked hard, against the prickling of sudden tears, and answered only after she had regained control. "My father."
Aiden glanced ahead, at the figures in the circle. "When was this?"
She offered him a smile. "Too long ago. This is my first fight."
McKay raised an eyebrow. "There?"
"Students may challenge other students, to prove their worth as warriors, to build respect. It is also an invitation for others to witness a warrior's new skills."
They had reached the edge of the clearing, and the men already sat around the circle glanced at her, dipping their heads in greeting. They seemed not to notice her teammates, and her father had not yet turned.
But one man had seen her. He had long, dark hair tied back from his face, and he was taller than Teyla by several hands. Dressed in a simple tunic and pants, he raised his weapons towards her in greeting.
"His name is Terel," Teyla explained, to Sheppard's unspoken question. "He is - was - several years older than me when I took him as my challenger, more advanced in his training. Tradition said I should have chosen an equal."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Sheppard said softly, grinning.
She did not return his smile, looking back towards the circle. Her father was now standing, looking towards her, and he met her gaze and smiled.
For a moment Teyla feared she might faint.
"Teyla." Aiden's hand was on her arm. "This isn't real. You don't have to go through with this."
"He's right," McKay added. "We should be able to quit and go back to the beginning if we want to."
She shook her head firmly. "No. I want to do this."
Her father was beckoning her towards the ring, and for a moment she thought she glimpsed her own eyes reflected in his.
"Alright," Sheppard conceded. "Tell us how we can help."
"You cannot," she replied simply, stepping forward into the clearing. Terel came to greet her, his smile belied by the cold behind his eyes.
"Teyla. You have brought an audience."
She nodded, gesturing at her team mates to sit down on the benches. "As have you," she replied, looking towards Terel's friends.
He glanced backwards and nodded. "They are intrigued by your challenge."
"I am pleased you accepted."
He nodded, and gave another smile. "With your father as leader of the circle, I could not object." Then he stepped aside, allowing her to enter the central circle.
It was only now Teyla realized her change of attire, her uniform replaced by the soft folds of her skirt. Her mother had presented her with the gift on the event of her first lesson, giving reason to the long nights spent sewing by the light of the fire. Her weapons were by her side, polished and smooth.
Terel took up his position on the other side of the circle. Her father stepped into the center, inclining his head at the audience; Terel's entourage sat on one side, and the three Atlanteans took their reluctant seats on a large tree trunk.
"You are all aware of the challenge. Teyla Emmagan has taken Terel Albaran as her opponent, and he has accepted." He turned his gaze towards Sheppard and his team. "There will be no intervention by the observers. This is between the two challengers." Then he turned back to the center of the ring and bowed, low.
Teyla tore her gaze away from him as her father took his seat, turning to face Terel. The young man walked the few steps across to greet her. No words were needed, but as Teyla dipped her forehead to touch his, she heard him whisper: "I hope, for your father's sake, you do not lose too badly."
His words came from the arrogance of youth, and though Teyla knew better than to be taunted she bristled, moving away a little too quickly.
Behind her, she could hear the hushed voices of her teammates.
"Do you think we get to cheer?"
"I'm not sure this is a cheering occasion, Lieutenant."
Teyla deliberately blocked their voices out, turning all her attention to her opponent. Terel had his weapons raised at shoulder height in the traditional starting position, but his left foot was positioned a little further back than the right to prepare for a low hit. She adjusted her own position accordingly, and when the call of her father rang out across the clearing, signaling the start, she stepped sideways and easily missed his blow.
She was aware of a quiet, appreciative whistle from Sheppard, and an impressed, soft hmmph noise from her father.
Terel compensated for his failure quickly, seeming angered by her easy deflection of his blow. He was not fast enough to avoid a smart rap across his right shoulder, but as he pulled his weight backwards he swung his hand and clipped Teyla's hip. It signaled the start of an exchange of blows, fast and furious, with enough strength and speed to leave Teyla breathless, struggling to keep up.
Had she faced him as an adult, as the Athosian leader, she would have no trouble in meeting his every strike. She could have ended this quickly. But here, in the memory of her youth, she was an inexperienced student without a warrior's past, and her body insisted on obeying the rules of the game. Every swing felt weak, every step sluggish and Terel preyed on her clumsiness. For every one of her failures he seemed improved. The real Terel had been uneasy with his own skin, had acted on thought and logic, not instinct. During a culling it had been his undoing.
The man before her now shared none of his insecurities. Refusing to repeat his earlier mistake, Terel moved fluidly, like an animal. He broke her every defense, countered her every attack, and soon her body bore the marks of his weapon, on her back, shoulder, thigh and calves.
And for every blow, for every unrestrained gasp she heard from McKay or Ford, she felt her father's scrutiny. She could not remember the moves he had taught her, she could not recall his teachings. It felt as though this were her very first fight, and she had had no training. The Teyla Emmagan of Atlantis struggled to fight back, her mind protesting that this was not how the original challenge had gone, that although she had lost the match she had earned the respect of her fellow warriors. Not this, this beating.
Terel struck out at her left hand, and as she brought her body around to meet the blow he hit her hard with his free weapon, bruising Teyla's ankles and sending her falling backwards to the ground. She hit the dirt, winded, and before she could move he was astride her, the rough end of his weapon pressing firmly against her throat.
"Enough!"
Her father's voice. She heard his disappointment beneath the command, and when Terel stepped away from her she glimpsed the younger man's arrogant smirk.
There was no strong hand to help her up. Not this time. She lay for several seconds staring up at the sky, unable to catch her breath, struggling to come to terms with the violation of her history.
"This is not how things were."
"Teyla." Her father again. She rolled onto her front, refusing to express the protests her body made, and pushed herself to her feet.
She was the last one to stand. Terel stood in a circle of his adoring friends, young men she had considered her companions. Behind her, Sheppard and the others were hovering hesitantly, and she heard McKay ask 'are you alright?', only to be ignored.
"Teyla."
Her father was taller than she remembered, but his shoulders dipped beneath the heavy weight, and she knew with painful clarity that she was the cause.
And she had to steel herself against the knowledge that this was not her father, that he was not real, and that she had never been the cause of his shame.
"We should take you to your mother."
"No." She tested the inside of her lip gingerly and tasted blood. "I am fine. If there was a rematch…"
"No, Teyla." His dark eyes looked away to Terel. "You lost poorly. Perhaps your mother's sister is right, perhaps you are not suited to the warrior life."
Her aunt, a woman deathly afraid of change, who feared a return of the Wraith behind every council decision. Her father had humored her, but never listened. But this was not her father.
The knowledge did little to hide his disappointing glare, or the insecurity she felt beneath it. "I can do better. Perhaps with more training…"
"Teyla." His voice held a low growl of warning, a note she had never heard him use on her, that she had only glimpsed during the most aggressive council members. "You have had enough training. I do not wish to see my child fail me again."
"No," she protested, "I would not. I…"
"Teyla." Sheppard's voice. She ignored him.
Her father looked at her with pity. "Go home, Teyla. Let your mother bind your wounds." He turned away from her, and she reached out to pull him back.
"Teyla." Sheppard had his hand on her arm. She tried to shrug it off, but he persisted.
"Father, please."
His back stiffened under her touch. "Go home."
Her breath caught in her throat, her chest painfully tight, but she dropped her hand and stepped away. This was her father, recreated from the past, returned to her, and he was ashamed of her…
"Teyla." The grip squeezed her arm firmly.
Turning, she saw Sheppard staring at her with worry and sympathy in his eyes, a look mirrored by Ford and McKay. "That isn't…"
"I know."
Sheppard removed his hand, and she shuddered.
It was an illusion, nothing more. The scorn of Terel, the disappointment from her father, none of it was real.
And yet the shame was almost enough to break her.
"Let's get out of here," McKay said, nervously, looking pointedly away from the circle. A door had appeared on the outskirts of the forest, beside a large, dead tree.
She took a deep breath and nodded, refusing to look back at her father.
Aiden went first, giving her a weak, meaningful smile. McKay followed, lingering for several seconds before stepping through the door. Sheppard remained by her side, his hand hovering inches from her elbow, ready to ground her.
"He would be proud of you, Teyla."
"He was." Part of her wanted to turn, wanted to plead for her father's forgiveness, just to earn a few more precious minutes with his ghost. In her childhood there had been no need, she had never failed him. Even in her weaknesses, he had forgiven her. Both he and her mother had been her small world, and when the Wraith had taken both from her, one culling after the next, she had thought there would be no other.
In her grief, she would have given anything to hear her father's voice once more.
But not this.
"I'm sorry."
She glanced at Sheppard questioningly.
"I decided we should go on with this charade."
"No." Taking a deep breath, Teyla tore herself away from her past and stepped towards the door. "There was no other choice. And this…"
"It wasn't real," he repeated.
"No. My father is not that man."
"Okay." He looked at her uncertainly. "As long as you're sure."
"I am." She placed her hand against the door for a moment, feeling the cold metal under her skin. It felt more real than the fight, than the power of Terel's blows or the depth of shame in her father's voice. She could even feel her bruises fading.
Lifting her head, Teyla offered Sheppard a smile. "Shall we join Lieutenant Ford and Doctor McKay?"
He returned the smile, and pushed open the door. "After you."
Thank you for all the reviews! Belisse, Madj, Raven,Elisa and Purpleyin, I'm glad you're enjoying it! But here's the bad news. Due to a hectic RL, I won't be able to update this til next Wednesday... but hopefully after that the updates should be more frequent. Sorry!