Part: 42/43
Warnings: Established Character death, violence, deviousness, and sexual content.
NOTE: Apologies for the delay, but I wanted to post the last two chapters together, so it took a little longer. I hope they are worth the wait...
GENTLE REMINDER: Please make sure you familiarise yourself with the warnings (copied above) for this fic before you read this chapter.
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Chapter 42 – The Love
Seeal had no idea how long she'd sat here, how many hours. The passing of time seemed only defined by the low quiet beeping of the monitors set around the head of Oneakka's bed, and the near constant flow of people visiting him.
They entered the small room in twos or threes, moving around the end of the bed quietly and up along the far side to where Halling sat by Oneakka's left shoulder. All the visitors said they were sorry to Halling before each leaning in over Oneakka, saying soft, kind words to him. Then they left to be replaced by the next visitor.
As they all came in to pay their respects to Oneakka; to say goodbye.
There was a frightening efficiency to it all that said how often they'd all done it before.
Elite died in large numbers after all, it was just that Seeal had always assumed Elite died fast at the hands of a Wraith or in a fiery battle. But it made sense that many lived long enough to reach a medical facility or back here where the other Elite could visit them on their deathbed.
Deathbed.
She hated the word.
So she kept her eyes away from the parade of horrifically experienced mourners and their soft painful words whispered to Oneakka.
She just kept her eyes on Oneakka.
They'd shaved his head, presumably to repair the raw sewn-up wound running backwards along his scalp, and it made him look more vulnerable somehow. There were various scratches and smaller injuries down his bare arms, but the rest of him was covered in a white blanket. Though hidden, his other injuries were obvious by the bumps of bandages under the blanket; especially the worst one, the massive injury through his lower belly.
She tried not to look at the obvious wounds, but keep her eyes on his face, occasionally on Halling sat on the other side of Oneakka from her, and mostly on her own hands lying on Oneakka's closest arm limp and still at his side.
His skin felt faintly warm and she clung to that fact, even as traitorous tears kept filling her eyes.
She heard the shift of boots and low voices across Oneakka, another visitor talking quietly.
Saying their last words to Oneakka.
She didn't know if she could take much more of this.
Battle-hardened warriors reduced to soft, tear-filled words almost cut through what little control she had to stop herself sobbing.
She'd never sobbed over anyone.
Except Father and in the nights after she and Ulfur had been run off their world. Afraid and alone on a planet neither of them knew, children lost and abandoned by everyone. She'd cried each night for seven daily cycles where the near constant sobbing Ulfur couldn't hear her, until the eighth day when her anger had arrived. That day she'd promised herself that she'd never put herself in that kind of situation again, never let anyone treat her like the Glisi had, and it had set her on a path of fighting back ever since.
Oneakka had called her a fighter, and today felt like the hardest fight she'd ever battled.
She wasn't used to this; caring so much.
All the visitors - Elite, Facility staff, Madesh, and various others she hadn't even been able to look at - had come in here to say goodbye to Oneakka with such obvious affection for him.
He wasn't an affectionate man, but they all cared so much for him.
Halling hadn't moved from his seat across from her, and he'd been talking almost the entire time. If he wasn't quietly greeting visitors from his chair, he was constantly talking to Oneakka. Watching tears rolling down Halling's cheeks cut at her. Not just because she saw too much of her own pain in his drawn face, but because these brothers-in-arms clearly cared so much for each other. No one had ever cared that much about her; even her mother and Ulfur, her own blood brother, had never loved her.
She blinked more tears away, dropping her eyes from Halling's latest tear-filled whispered exchange with the latest visitor and returned her vigil to her hands on Oneakka's pale arm.
No one had asked her to leave, though she had expected it when Elite had started visiting. She had been fully prepared to put up a fight if they tried to get her to move from her seat, but no one had. Madesh had even hugged her again when he'd visited Oneakka earlier.
So she'd kept quiet, stayed on her side of the bed opposite the visitors, keeping the urge to sob inside and focusing on the faint warmth of Oneakka's skin under her hands.
She'd found the faintest line of an old small scar on the inside of his upper arm, lying now under her left index finger. She found the scar comforting somehow, a reminder that he'd healed from so much before. She kept catching herself running her fingertip along the short scar, judging the likely weapon that had caused it, perhaps a knife or a piece of flying debris. It had probably only been a shallow injury, but wide enough that his body had left a scar in drawing the edges together. He'd recovered from far more massive injuries before, the right side of his face testimony to that fact, so he could heal from this latest one, couldn't he?
She lifted her eyes from his arm to the monitors up around his head. She didn't understand what most of them displayed, but she could see that some of the readings were lowered than earlier.
He was slipping away.
The tears were back, blurring her view of his peaceful, still face.
She lifted one hand from his arm to swipe away the traitorous water, clearing her view somewhat. At which point she realised that there were no visitors in the room anymore. She glanced round to the doorway off to her right, but it was empty and the hallway outside looked darker than before. Was it late?
She looked back to Halling across from her, sat by himself now with no one else at his side. Behind him, the side wall of the small room held a long wide window, presumably for observation from the ward room next door, but through it she could see that the lights were lower. And she realised the general sounds of the Bay outside the open door were even quieter than earlier.
There was just the rushing sound of air flowing to Oneakka's nose, helping push additional air into his lungs, and the little bleeps from the monitors.
And Halling's voice.
His eyes were red and exhausted as they moved over the monitors; she guessed Halling knew how to read them.
Clearly he wasn't happy with what he was seeing.
"You need stay, Oneakka," Halling whispered. She watched him lay a hand on Oneakka's forehead, his fingers clearly shaking. "You need to make the right choice to stay here."
A shift of sound to the right told her another visitor had turned up and she almost sighed, desperate for them to stop. To just leave her and Halling with Oneakka.
"Anything?" Massa's familiar voice arrived though, not a one-off visitor. He'd been coming in regularly, moving between reports on the end of the battle with the Hive, taking care of his son, and talking with Atlantis apparently.
She looked round to find Massa's eyes on her as he moved around the foot of Oneakka's bed. He smiled kindly at her, though she could see his own pained grief across his face. She imagined each time he came here he didn't know if Oneakka had slipped away while he'd been gone. She tried to send him a smile in return, grateful for his repeated appearances.
"His pressure and brain activity are still dropping," Halling told Massa, his overworked voice sounding painful and dry.
Massa reached Halling's side and, as he did each time, he laid a large dark hand on Halling's shoulder. She watched Halling try to smile up at his friend and colleague before Massa shifted forward to lean over Oneakka.
Massa laid his other hand on Oneakka's chest, over his heart.
"I see you're still lying down, Oneakka," Massa said almost conversationally, as if he and Oneakka were simply sat around their usual canteen table. "You're going to have to get up soon," his voice broke a little now though, "there's work to be done, my friend."
Another shape registered to the right of Massa and Halling, and Seeal blinked away tears to see Emmagan had returned. She'd visited earlier, during which she'd spent some time talking with Halling as well as visiting Oneakka. Seeal hadn't listened to any of her and Halling's conversation, but presumably some of it had been about Atlantis' successful rescue of Sheppard and Kolya's resulting rise to power. Emmagan looked tired and probably had some significant political issues on her plate now considering Kolya had pissed off Atlantis and tried to kill her Political Husband.
"I'm going to go check on Aki," Massa continued to Oneakka. "But I will be back again soon, brother. See if you can wake up by then."
Massa pulled back, his hand lingering on Oneakka's chest before he turned away. Seeal saw him squeeze Halling's shoulder again before moving away and Emmagan stepped into his place, one of her hands now taking up the same spot on Halling's shoulder. She and Halling were obviously close, judging by their earlier whispered intense conversation, and Seeal watched as Halling covered Emmagan's hand with his own; something he hadn't done that with anyone else.
"Seeal?" Massa voice cut in from Seeal's immediate right and she looked round, surprised to find him stood right beside her. "Do you need anything? Something to eat or drink?"
She was a little thrown by the offer; she hadn't even thought about anything like that. She shook her head.
"I'll bring you some of the Athosian tea you like," Massa replied though, so she just nodded, stupidly suddenly wanting to cry at him being so kind to her.
She quickly returned her eyes to Oneakka's arm, fighting against the sudden tightening of her throat and the deep, dull ache in her chest.
"Oneakka, my old friend," Emmagan's soft voice drifted over the bed. Her voice was strong, but it wavered with emotion. "Halling tells me Sitayi says you are making a choice."
Seeal looked up at that strange comment.
Emmagan was stood right up beside Oneakka's other side, her entire forearm lying over his chest and she was leant down over him, which brought her closer to Seeal than any of the other visitors. This close, Seeal could see the watery droplets caught on Emmagan's eyelashes as she smiled kindly down at Oneakka.
"I hope you know," Emmagan told him, "how much we need you here, how much we love you."
Seeal looked sharply away, looking down to the woman's golden hand lying on Oneakka's chest, her skin in sharp contrast to the white blanket over him.
Seeal dropped her eyes back down to her own hands, tightening her grip on Oneakka's arm.
How did this stubborn, difficult man mean so much to so many people?
He was blunt, unyielding, and frightening brave.
And when had he started to mean so damn much to her?
She didn't want him to go.
She had idea how to deal with the raging, tearing emotions in her chest.
The urge to sob rushed back, constricting her throat, and she watched her hands squeeze his arm as if that could somehow help keep him here.
"Whatever choice you make, my friend," Emmagan's voice continued softly and emotionally. "We are all here for you."
Seeal heard someone sniff.
It might have been her.
"I will be back tomorrow morning, Oneakka," Emmagan added. "But I am with you. As is Sheppard. And, yes," she added with a slightly shaking out breath, "I will tell him to put on more muscle, as you always tell him."
Seeal sensed Emmagan moving and looked up to see the Elite woman lean down and press a kiss to Oneakka's forehead, holding it for a long second before lifting a few inches up from him. "May the Ancestors stand with you and watch over you," Emmagan whispered.
Seeal returned her bleary view to Oneakka's pale arm.
Something moved into her view though and she blinked round to her right to see a small metal table had been wheeled up to her side and Massa was setting a cup of steaming tea onto the small table.
"You need to drink something at least," Massa told her in his kind deep voice. He was probably right and, besides, it would help him feel better, so she lifted her right hand from Oneakka's forearm and reached for the cup and lifted it up to her mouth.
It smelt good, the fragrance cutting through the antiseptic smell of the medical bay that she'd gotten far too used to. She sipped at the drink, expecting it to be too hot, but apparently Massa had made sure it wasn't. She gulped down the small mouthful and felt Massa's large hand touch against her upper back.
She crushed her lips together as she set the cup back down, Massa's warm, soothing rubbing across her back so kind. She couldn't remember anyone having done that to her before.
She forced herself to look up at Massa. "Thank you," she told him, and it wasn't just for the tea.
"I'll be back soon," he told her before smiling sadly across at Halling opposite.
As he stepped away, Emmagan was revealed, now on this side of the bed as well. Seeal watched in surprise as Emmagan reached forward and placed her hand on Seeal's shoulder.
"Are you sure you do not need anything, Seeal?" Emmagan asked.
She needed Oneakka to live.
Seeal shook her head, surprised anew at their offers to comfort her.
People never did that for her.
It made her want to cry even more.
Emmagan smiled softly, her eyes noticeably red. She squeezed Seeal's shoulder before she pulled her hand away and the woman's gaze returned to Oneakka. Seeal watched the clear anguish and grief twist the woman's face before she swallowed and blinked.
"I will be back tomorrow morning," Emmagan promised Halling.
"Are Atlantis helping with the Skerti research?" Halling asked her as if the question had suddenly come to him.
"Definitely," Emmagan reassumed him. "I'll tell you what we find," her eyes lowered back to Oneakka and Seeal saw Emmagan lay her hand on Oneakka's closest knee. "Both of you."
Then the woman turned away, swallowing hard, and Seeal watched Massa place his comforting hand on Emmagan's back as they headed for the exit together. Both looked back over their shoulders just before they left; probably expecting it to be their last view of Oneakka.
Seeal snapped her eyes back to her hands on Oneakka's arm.
He was still warm.
He was still alive.
The rush of air and the bleeping of the monitors filled the quiet air.
She looked over at the monitors.
They hadn't changed.
"I think," Halling said softly to Oneakka, "that you are doing this just to have everyone tell you how much they care for you. After kisses from the ladies," he chuckled brokenly. "Just like when you were young; you, Myrtle, and Kane broke so many hearts," his voice broke into a near sob.
Seeal clutched at Oneakka's forearm as she watched Halling struggle to keep going.
"You need to make the right decision, Oneakka," Halling ordered, but his voice was failing. "I don't think I can accept this. I need you to survive. To fight against the Skerti with me."
Halling had bruises and long thin scratches across his face from his fight with the Skerti alien, but it was the raw, red eyes and dark patches under his eyes that were the most obvious. He looked awful, and she suspected she looked just as bad.
"You need to come back," he continued, his voice cracking. "It can't be right that I survive and you don't-" his voice faltered and she watched him drop his head forward, overcome. He lifted a hand from Oneakka and pressed a large piece of paper towel to his face.
"You need to-" His voice broke finally, sounding painful and tight. He'd been talking too long.
He was running out of voice and time.
Then she'd take his place.
"You need to stay here," she told Oneakka, trying to sound controlled and logical. "Everyone needs you here." Her voice sounded weird to her, shaky and tight like she'd never heard it before.
Halling sniffed, his face still pressed into his paper towel.
"You know the Recruits are going to get sloppy without you here," she told Oneakka, looking at his handsome still face. "You've got to keep standards up," her own voice threatened to break.
She cleared her throat.
She could do this.
"And who else is going to make sure I stay out of trouble?" She asked him, almost laughing but it kind of collapsed into a coughing crying sound.
She looked from his face to the monitors.
Nothing was changing, nothing was stopping him going.
She tried desperately to think of something that would convince him, as if he could actually hear her and Halling.
She certainly wasn't going to say anything kind and thoughtful like Emmagan and the others though; that would just give him the idea that it was okay to slip away. He needed motivation to fight to stay.
"And," she added into the quiet bleeping and rushing air, "you need to make sure that I don't find out what your name means. Because," she cleared her throat again, "if you go, Halling's going to tell me. So you need to come round and make sure that doesn't happen. Okay?"
Across from her, Halling lifted his face from the paper towel and she met his gaze. He hadn't made any such promise to tell her what Oneakka's name meant, but he gave her a sad, pained smile.
She pressed her lips together, pushing back the wave of tears threatening to come back again.
"And I need to prove to you that I can swim," she looked back at Oneakka, her voice betraying the new wave of tears. "I'm not afraid of water," she insisted.
Memories of that moment by the underground river returned; his ridiculously gorgeous smile and that deep, rich laugh at her.
Was she never going to hear that again?
She dropped her eyes quickly back down to his arm, her hands tight around his strong forearm.
He was so still, so lifeless.
Her throat was tightening up on her again.
There was another sniff and it definitely wasn't Halling this time.
"And help us fight the Skerti," Halling took up the argument, his voice a little stronger now. "Teyla says Atlantis are going to help us. They've got the recording that referenced the Skerti."
Seeal reached for the pile of paper towels that she only now spotted beside the tea Massa had brought her. She wiped at her face, her skin feeling dry and stretched.
She kept her left hand on Oneakka's arm as she set the scrunched up towel on the table.
Her throat was dry and still seriously tight, so she reached for the tea, taking another small sip.
"Atlantis are helping us look at the recording device itself," Halling continued his report, clearly hoping to catch at Oneakka's curiosity now. "Maybe we can find something more on it about the Skerti."
"If we can find a location coded on the device," she added to the conversation, the tea having helped her throat so she took another small sip and set it down. "Maybe we can find where the Ancestors met the Skerti."
Across from her, Halling nodded. "It looked quite like a Wraith, Oneakka," he added. "You'll find it fascinating. The genetic tests will be interesting." He coughed a little. "Should tell us a lot."
"She was big too," Seeal put in. "Taller than Halling."
"And strong, Oneakka. She was so strong," Halling's voice constricted. "If you had not sent Seeal..."
Seeal snapped her gaze quickly to Oneakka's face. "Not that that's an excuse for you to go anywhere," she told him sternly. "There's work needed."
Halling nodded across the bed.
"No leaving," Seeal added, and now it was her voice breaking.
Halling nodded as he gently settled his hand on Oneakka's forehead again. "No leaving, my friend," he whispered.
Seeal fixed her gaze back on Oneakka's arm, tears swamping her view into simple blurry shapes.
"No leaving," Halling repeated.
She blinked hard, the tears tipping out of her eyes to run down her face. They felt warm.
Warmer than Oneakka's skin.
She ran her hands down his cool arm, finding his limp hand at the end of it.
She gripped his hand tightly.
He couldn't just slip away.
He was too big and strong for that, wasn't he?
If there was any justice in the damned galaxy, in this stupid unfair and uncaring universe, it wouldn't just let him die so easily and quietly.
It wouldn't take him away from her.
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Teyla had made it back to the Portal and through to Atlantis on near autopilot, presumably making sense to people that she'd talked to at various points on the journey. Despite her excessively long stressful day, Colonel Carter had still been on duty when Teyla had arrived back into the Ancestral City, and she had kindly asked after Oneakka. Teyla had told her something, presumably polite and appropriate because the Colonel had smiled and touched her arm.
As the hour was very late in Atlantis, there was no need for any more meetings, so Teyla had been able to head directly to her Atlantis quarters. She had managed to remember the route easily enough, though the two Atlantis guards who had walked with her had been there to help direct her if she had gotten lost through the tall hallways of the City. In truth, she couldn't recall most of that journey either.
Today had been so difficult.
Oneakka was so unwell. The reality was that she had seen him for the last time...until his funeral.
How many times had this happened before? How many times had she had to say goodbye to one of her fellow Elite, or, if their body was not retrieved, had to stand by an empty symbolic pyre in memory of them?
And it had almost been John too today.
She felt like she had lived an entire year's worth of stress and fear today.
Her legs felt worryingly weak under her, but she kept them moving through Atlantis' hallways, determined to get back to her quarters.
She needed to know that John was alright.
While in the Facility, between her visits to Oneakka and reporting on the Kolya and Atlantis situation, she had managed to speak to two of the Elite's leading researchers on Wraith feeding. Both had assured her, given John's story, that he should have no side effects and was unlikely to have lost any life. If anything, it was possible that he may have gained some.
Still, she needed to see him, even if it was only to peer quietly into his room and see him sleeping peacefully.
To know that she wasn't going to lose him tonight as they were with Oneakka.
She turned down the last long corridor to the quarters and worked to blink away the tears that threatened to fill her eyes again. She had let many of them out in Massa's strong embrace after they had left Oneakka, and she had been aware of Massa's own tears against her hair. There was no shame in showing grief, but it was not something she wanted to share in front of those here. She had already noticed the guards' softer expressions being clearly aware of the reason why she had briefly returned to the Alliance. Though, perhaps the new level of relaxation among the guards behind her, and in the two standing up from a small table ahead, was due to the day's shared experience as well.
The guards previously stationed directly outside her and Si' quarters were no longer standing guard in the hallway, but had set up a small table midway down the corridor instead. It was clearly a mark of respect to her and Si for them not to be stood constantly outside their quarters' doors, and, she imagined, was far more comfortable for the guards. As she approached the guards' table, she saw that they had some hot drinks, food, and the same type of playing cards she had seen Lieutenant Ford show the Honour Guard on Athos. She would ask John if he had any to show her the game.
These new guards both nodded to her with open smiles; yes, their attitude had clearly changed this evening.
"Good evening, Honour Elite Emmagan," one of the guards smiled to her. "Honoured Elite Si asked me to tell you that he has retired for the night and will rise early to visit the Training Facility tomorrow."
"Thank you," Teyla smiled at the guard. Si would visit Oneakka first thing and would likely know before she woke up of when Oneakka had passed to join the Ancestors.
"Good night, Ma'am," the guards behind her said and she looked round to see that her escort were already leaving.
"Good night," she replied as they moved away.
"Do you need anything sent to your quarters?" The lead guard at the table asked her. "Some food or anything?"
"No, thank you," she replied, surprised at the kind offer. "I just need to sleep," she smiled at them as best she could.
"Good night then," he smiled.
"I am sorry, I do not know your name," she asked, realising she hadn't seen this particular guard before.
"I'm Walker, Ma'am, newly stationed here to be honest with you. I've not had the pleasure of visiting the Alliance yet."
He was a very personable man and a rather soothing balm on her fail nerves. It felt nice to have a pleasant conversation that wasn't about death and politics.
"I hope you will be able to visit us soon," she smiled back.
"If you need anything, we're just down here," he replied, gesturing to the table.
"Thank you," she replied as she moved on past their table. "Enjoy your game," she added towards the cards.
The polite conversation complete, she headed on, now with no one following on her heels, towards her quarters. As she passed Si' door, she felt her mood lower again. Si had said he would pray for Oneakka before he slept tonight, having visited the Facility before her. With Kari' passing on the Glisi world, losing Oneakka would mean they would lose two members of the Sythus crew in only months of each other.
How many more?
She continued on towards her own quarters, moving faster now that the promise of rest and seeing John grew closer.
She waved her hand over the line of crystals outside her door and they parted to allow her in.
John had left a low light on her for, which cast immediately over Ketra who was clambering down off Teyla's own bed to come and greet her. Teyla couldn't bring herself to tell Ketra off for using her bed, for she was too relieved to see her.
"Hello, Ketra," Teyla greeted her friend as Ketra padded over, clearly very sleepy. The time it took for Ketra to reach her, gave Teyla time to notice the extra soft light ghosting in through the open adjoining door to John's quarters.
Ketra's snout brushed against her hands, drawing her attention back down to her.
"Have you been good?" Teyla asked quietly given the open adjoining doorway. "Apart from sleeping on my bed," she added.
Ketra just closed her eyes as Teyla stroked her cheeks and ears.
Pleased Ketra was contented enough, Teyla straightened and headed quietly towards the adjoining door.
If there was light coming in from his room, he may still be awake.
Almost to the door, she paused to pull free her scabbard and laid her sword and weapons on the side, before continuing on towards the promise of John's quarters.
She just needed to see that he was okay.
She stepped up into the doorway and peered inside.
Except he wasn't there.
The light was on though and, as she moved a little further into the room, she could see that his bed covers were pushed aside and there was a book lying on them, open and flat to save the place he had reached.
She looked across the low lit room towards the closed door to his washroom. He may be in there, or had he been called back to duty?
Or had he been called down to Atlantis' Healing Bay – Infirmary, she corrected herself. What if he had felt unwell and was suffering after effects of the feeding process?
She took a calming breath, aware that she had started to panic a little. She was too emotionally tired, and needed to remain calm.
He was probably in his washroom, or, if somewhere else, he would return soon.
She moved back to the adjoining doorway and stepped back inside her quarters. Ketra had remembered that she wasn't supposed to sleep on the bed and had returned to the mattress on the floor.
Teyla should probably climb onto her own bed, get some sleep, but she needed to see him.
Needed to...
The wall was on her immediate left, so she reached out to it. As she had wanted to do for the last hour, she rested her weight against the simple support of something. She turned her back against its coolness and leant her head back against it with a heavy sigh.
Poor Oneakka.
And Halling's story.
Why had he not told her about Sitayi' prediction? He had apologised in his hurried emotional story of what had happened, and she had, of course, forgiven him, but it struck her now how her having known might have altered matters. Had she known the threat presented, she knew she would have delayed her visit here to Atlantis and would perhaps not have been here in the crucial moments needed to save John.
For all her fears of being here when something dramatic might happen in the Alliance, the opposite had almost come to pass. By being there, she would have lost the opportunity to help in John's rescue, to ensure –
She heard a door open in John's quarters, so she quickly pushed away from the wall and stepped back into the open doorway. "John?"
He was emerging from his washroom, as she had hoped, and was rubbing a small blue towel around the back of his neck. He pulled up short, his eyes landing on her and his big smile instantly satisfied and relieved every part of her that had been worrying about him.
"You're back," he grinned as he threw his small towel aside.
"I wasn't sure if you were in your washroom," she explained. He was moving towards her, so she moved towards him.
"Yeah," he waved vaguely at his hair, which looked slightly fluffy, like he had only just dried it. "Every time I laid down, Ketra kept obsessively sniffing my hair," he told her with that lopsided smile of his that she had missed so very much. "I think she could smell the Wraith on me or something," he added as they reached each other.
She wanted to reach for him, to feel for herself that he was real and well. To know that he had truly been returned to her alive and fully intact.
But, she held herself back. Matters had not been so relaxed between them to embrace like that... it was how things used to be...
Before she had been so foolish in trying to push him away. To think that losing him in any fashion was right for her.
"How's Oneakka?" He asked, his smile dropping into worried concern.
She found herself looking down and away from him, the sadness rushing back. The reality was that, though John had been returned as he was, the same could not be said for Oneakka.
"He is in a very bad way," she told him, hearing the emotions in her voice that threatened her control. Today had been so difficult. Everything she held dear had been involved, even Athos had been shaken by today's events, its vital trading relationships perhaps forever affected by Kolya's actions.
"Teyla, I'm so sorry," John replied, his voice soft, kind.
Then his hands were on her arms, sliding around her, offering what she so desperately needed.
She stepped eagerly into his embrace, wrapping her arms around his middle, and pressed her entire being to him.
His arms slid right around her, holding her to him just as tightly, and her tears threatened to break free again as she pressed her face in against the top of his chest.
"I almost lost you today," she whispered into his shirt; his bed shirt, warm with his body heat and smelling so wonderfully of him. She dipped her chin slightly, flattening her cheek further against his chest, seeking what she had craved.
And there it was, thumping with life, his heartbeat.
She closed her eyes as she listened to it, drinking in all of him. Everything she needed.
Everything she had missed.
Everything she had tried to throw away.
His arms tightened even further around her, the side of his chin pressing against her forehead.
She sighed into the warm, safe space of him. The delightful sense of home and peace.
Here, she could face anything, could accept the worst and deal with the hardest of fates.
Here, with her John.
She tightened her hands on the back his shirt, clasping the fabric so that she could press just that extra bit closer to him, and she drew in a deep healing breath of him.
She had missed this so much, being this close to feel each of his breaths, to live them with him. To be held by him, to be pressed body to body with nothing held back.
There were words she should say, but she couldn't seem to find a place for them in this warm embrace. Nothing else existed for her but his scent, his body, his heart beating against her chest, his warmth, and his love.
She felt it in his embrace, though she couldn't ever describe how such a thing was possible, but she did.
His chin grazed away from her forehead only to be replaced his lips. The kiss was soft and long held, and she drank in every second of it until his lips lifted from her skin and his chin settled against the same place as the kiss. His arms shifted around her, somehow finding extra space to embrace her further.
His kiss and tighter embrace told her he was affected by the day far more than he had admitted. Again, she could not say how she knew that was what he felt, but she understood it nonetheless.
Staying tight against him, she released her right hand from its tight grip on the back of his shirt and drew it round and then into their embrace, lying her forearm against his front and gently flattening her hand where the feeding mark had been at the top of his chest.
She felt the faintest shudder go though him, barely discernible, but she felt it.
She gently rubbed her fingers back and forth across the feeding place, feeling for certain through the thin layer of fabric of his shirt that he was healed. Though the mark was gone, she could not imagine it was so easy to forget, so she caressed the place on his chest gently, hoping to add soft gentle memories over the cruel ones.
He took a breath, deeper than before, and, held so close, she moved with him the entire way. She could feel the faint shudder again in the big breath and its releasing sigh.
She opened her eyes, her head close to where her hand stroked his chest, and she watched her own fingers slide gently back and forth across his shirt. He took another deeper breath, but it wasn't as full or as shaky as the last one. His chin seemed to rest heavier against her forehead, so she kept up her gentle caress and kept her left arm wrapped tightly around his back.
Stood like that, she shared each breath with him, their chests pressing tighter with each mutual in-breath and then relaxing together with each out-breath. And through each, there was the gentle, wondrous thump-thump of his heart under her hand as she soothingly stroked back and forth across his chest.
She realised that, at some point, he had started to gently rock them both, the motion small but so very soothing. In fact, she was moving with him without her having realised, the two of them holding one another and soothing each other's pains.
One of his arms had loosened around her, though again she could not recall when, and his hand was now rubbing slowly up and down her upper back, moving in time with her caress across his chest and their gentle rocking from side to side. It was perhaps the most calming sensation she had ever felt.
She had no idea how long they had been embracing and it didn't matter. This was everything she needed today, everything to fill the hurt and pain and, hopefully, do the same for him.
Time simply slid on, his embrace and rocking blissful and simple.
And she had wanted to push him away?
The reasons were old and foolish outside this space where they met. In truth, it had always been this way. When together, alone, the rest of the universe had always slipped away, leaving them peaceful and happy together. She had thought that dangerous before, worried it had become distracting, but now – now, she understood. Now, that intensity and their safeness together was an anchor within the wild storms of life. There was no way to have predicted today's events, or be able to predict what might happen to them again in the future, but this...this simple, honest truth was more than enough for her.
And in his embrace, she suspected it was for him as well.
Though...
She lifted her head gently from his chest, slowly so as not to break their gentle, happy spell too much, and, without moving her body away from his, she leant her head back and to the side so that she could look up at him.
He pulled his chin in so that he could look down at her in turn, his hand stilling on her back and sliding back around her to hold her tightly again. Perhaps he was worried she was going to pull away.
She instead simply looked up at her handsome and most wondrous husband, and smiled up at him.
He smiled back down at her.
The angle was a little awkward, her neck already aching, but she held still, smiling up at him.
His chin lowered, his lips moving slowly down towards hers.
She lifted her fingers from his chest and slid her hand up and around the back of his neck, encouraging him and drawing him to her.
His lips were warm and soft as they met hers, pressing gently but somehow also firmly as well. It was a kiss that felt as perfect as their embrace and silent conversation.
She had considered what she might say to him if such a day might arrive that they might consider becoming lovers again, what apologies and explanations she could offer. And today, in the long waiting moments of anxiety and fear for him, she had imagined telling him once again of her love. But none of those words felt necessary now. In fact, they felt messy and inaccurate compared to the simplicity and honesty of their kiss and the undeniable press of his manhood growing against her belly.
She parted her lips softly from his, drew in a breath, and pressed her mouth back to his with open lips and a touch of her tongue.
His lips parted instantly for her, his tongue seeking hers, and their mouths sealed together as they had not done in such a long time.
She felt him draw in a sharp breath, his body shifting almost instantly into a more alert, needful state. She felt it through all of him pressed against her, felt it send tingles and warmth through her in turn.
In the safe anchor of him, she willingly lost herself into the long slow slide of his tongue, the drawing suction of his mouth, the captured breaths between sliding lip against lip, his breath mixing with her own.
It was an intoxicating spell that felt timeless yet also sharply present and intense.
As the kiss rolled and lingered, he ran her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck and back up again. The sense of him was both new and achingly familiar.
It felt far too long since she'd run her hands over him, since she had felt his hand tight in her own hair, heard the needful roughness of his breath and felt the thick press of him against her lower belly.
Drawing her senses together from their scattered pattern though, she slowly pulled her mouth from his, gradually drawing lip from lip. He kept their mouths together for as long as he could though, his lips parting from hers finally with almost an audible pop, and she felt his hands gripping the back of her jacket to keep her close.
She peeled her chest and belly away from his, and reached around behind her own back, seeking out one of his hands. His fingers loosened from her jacket only when she slid her hand around his, drawing his hand from her back and into her own, interlinked her fingers with his.
She looked back up at him, holding his dark, softened gaze. "Will you lie with me, my Husband?" She asked him.
He nodded instantly.
She had never heard him so silent for so long.
She smiled up at him and his wide-eyed silence as she turned away towards his bed, leading him by his hand. He put up no resistance at all, instead followed her closely without comment.
She reached the end of his narrow bed, clearly designed for a single individual to use, and reached down with her free hand to draw his blankets completely aside, exposing the soft mattress underneath, making space for them.
As she did so, he moved closer, his body a closing warmth against her back, and she felt the rush of his breath before his lips lowered to the side of her neck.
His mouth pressed, wet and open, against her skin, sending teasing, thrilling sparkles of arousal across her skin and down through her body.
She closed her eyes at the sensation as she straightened up from the bed, leaning her head back and to one side as his mouth flowed up the side of her neck.
She released his hand, drawing her fingers from among his, and reached to the buttons securing her jacket closed. She pulled them open and his hands were immediately sliding through the opening edges of her jacket, his caress firm and deeply arousing.
She ran her hands over the back of his lean forearms before reaching up to her collar, drawing the jacket back and down. She had to lean forward from him to start pulling it from her, but he did not give her much space to do so. She chuckled as she had to wiggle her shoulders to encourage the jacket down by itself.
He seemed to decide to help now, his hands sliding up her front, grazing full and uncompromising up over her breasts, but, regretfully, not pausing on their destination to her shoulders. He grasped the lapels of the jacket and, finally, pulled back from her enough to pull it down and off her arms.
She shook her hands to free the last of the jacket from her arms as his hands slid back around her middle, but he wasn't caressing so much now as gasping the bottom of her top and drawing it up in a long, slow, but decisive pull. She lifted her arms up over her head to assist and he pulled her top up over her head and then up her arms.
The fabric free of her hands, she dropped her forearms backwards behind her head to clasp the back of his head as he pressed back against her tightly, his mouth once more on her neck. Though, this time he was sliding his lips down to her shoulder, while his hands were sliding back around her front, but now, gloriously, against her bared skin.
There was just one last piece of fabric in the immediate way though, but his hands slid under the cups of her bra without pause, covering her breasts entirely in his warm wide hands. She groaned at the feel of him, of the gentle squeeze and heat of his palms. She reached up to her own side, unclasping the bra, and she rolled her shoulders to dislodge the fabric down off herself. The bra dropped away somewhere and out of any interest.
All that interested her was his mouth moving back up her neck and his hands massaging her breasts.
"Teyla," he whispered as his lips reached her ear, breathing her name across the sensitive lobe.
She ran her hands over the back of his, gripping his hands as he massaged her just as she liked.
It felt as if there were no barriers anymore, the sensation of him against her, touching her, felt newly emotional and loving whereas before, as beautiful as it had always been between them, now it felt like there was a new freedom of passion.
But, she wanted one thing from him that she had not allowed before.
She turned slowly and carefully within his hold, sliding around within his embrace so that she faced him once again. He kept close though, his hands on her bare back now, sliding across her skin and down to her still covered backside, as his eyes lifted from her breasts to meet her gaze. His expression was of dilated arousal and the staring intensity of passion that she remembered so well.
She settled her hands on his chest, his shirt still a thin barrier between their flesh, but she focused up on his eyes. "I want you to lie over me, John," she whispered to him.
He blinked, his mind focusing a little now, clearly not having expected her request.
His eyebrows rose a fraction, a faint smile crossing his full, swollen lips. "Boy on top?" He asked with that tickling, delightful sensuous humour she had always loved.
She smiled up back up at him. "Yes," she nodded. It was a rule she had imposed from their very first joining, a practice undertaken by most Elite from their days as Recruits onwards, but especially held by female Elite. It had felt important to them, to her, to ensure a male didn't attempt to gain sexual dominance over them, as some non-Elite males often tried. But, that fear had no place with John now.
She wanted his weight on her; something she had never felt with a male before.
His hands sliding up her bare sides, he shifted closer, narrowing the tiny distance between their bodies. "We've never done that before," he said softly, his way of ensuring she was certain. She had shared with him previously the reasons for Elite to impose the rule.
She nodded as she rose up enough to graze her lips against his.
As she pulled her lips from the quick kiss, she drew her head back a fraction to be able to meet his gaze again. "I want no more rules between us," she told him honestly.
He blinked, his tiniest of pauses seeming overly long after her request.
"No more rules," he repeated, his voice deep and somehow wistful, like a promise.
She reached up to his chin, sliding her fingers along the sharp handsome edge of his jaw. "No more holding back," she promised him in turn.
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He felt like he was drugged, aware of nothing but her, and his entire body seemed to beat with each thud of his heart.
Each beat throbbed through him, pulsing achingly through his groin, up his spine, shaking his chest and tunnelling his vision to nothing but her.
His world was her skin and her soft, sexy voice whispering things to him he hadn't even realised he had wanted.
Her hands pulled on him, drawing him downwards, his world angling and dropping so that his bed lay under her. Her knees bumped against his sides and then his arms as she crawled backwards up his mattress, working to give them room, but it was too much space. He set his knees on the mattress, crawling after her.
God, she wanted him on her.
She reached the top of the bed, her smile wide, enticing and sultry as she laid her head on his pillow. She settled one of her arms up over her head, opening up her armpit and lifting her breasts.
She was saying something to him, something important. Something about clothes.
But he just leant down, pressing his nose and mouth into the golden expanse of her skin from her nipples to the little hollow at the base of her throat. He drew in her smell, closing his eyes as he flattened his forearms onto the bed on either side of her, but not lying on her yet.
Her hands were sweeping up his back, setting his skin on fire, only he realised she was pulling up his shirt.
He just focused on her skin, on sliding his mouth down into her cleavage, following the twisting gorgeousness of her tattoos he had counted so long ago. He was going to have to do that again later, make sure she hadn't gotten any new ones.
She tasted of salt, of Athosian incense somehow, and that deep feminine smell that told him she truly wanted him.
Her hands were behind his shoulder-blades now, bunching up his shirt, and then she started pulling it over the back of his head.
He begrudgingly lifted his throbbing head from her chest, giving her the space to pull the shirt off him. In the brief moment while the shirt blocked his view of her, he registered that he was up on his knees and was still wearing his pants. Stupid pants.
And she was still in her Elite pants too.
Stupid clothes all in the way.
As she finally fought his shirt off the top of his head, he heard her giggle. It was a deep sensuous womanly sound.
God, he had missed her.
He wanted to be in her again.
He pushed himself up off his forearms, rising up onto his knees as he grinned down at her giggling smile as she threw his shirt aside.
Oh yeah.
Her legs were either side of him, her legs already open around him.
He reached down to the waistband of her pants, freeing the Alliance clasps with an ease he had forgotten, and he slid his fingers under the waistband and gripped her pants and underwear together to pull them off her.
She made that sultry chuckling sound again, and it went right down into his crotch.
She lifted her backside up from his mattress, and he tugged her last clothes down, down off her hips and down to her thighs, only he paused at the sight of the triangle of reddish dark hair he had missed so much.
He could see her swollen flesh already parting for him.
Could smell her ready for him.
Her legs started moving, and he realised he was still holding her pants in his hands around her lower thighs. He needed to do something with the pants. Take them off her, yes that was it.
But she was already on it, pulling her legs out from the clothes he was holding for her. He watched as her golden legs were revealed out from the pants until her pretty toes pulled free last.
He threw the pants off the bed somewhere and reached for her gorgeous feet, sliding his hands up her shins to her knees. She had her knees together and pulled up against her middle still and he grasped her knees, looking up beyond them to her shining eyes.
Her hands were sliding around his jaw, up into his hair, asking him to lie down over her.
He held her eyes as he gently started pulling her knees apart, making space for him.
She smiled at him, her mouth open and he could see her breathing hard, her breasts moving with each move.
He shifted his hands on her knees as he pushed them up and wider, exposing more of her, but he kept his eyes on her mouth, watched as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.
He wanted to kiss her, kiss her neck, lick her nipples, bury into her, suck on her ears, whisper words he wanted to share, words he hadn't thought he'd get to say.
But the throbbing and the sweet intense smell of her.
He lowered his gaze from her mouth, over her breasts and belly, down to between her parted legs, her knees shifting in his hands, her hips lifting with need, calling to him.
He leant down, down to where he hadn't been in so long, too long.
He nuzzled into the swollen lips of her and pressed his mouth to her wet, red bare flesh.
She moaned as she undulated against him, sliding herself harder against his mouth.
He slid his hands up the back of her legs, pushing her thighs up and further apart, exposing her more.
Her groans echoed loud around him, his name in her moans pulsing down into his groin and up into his swollen head.
As he slid his tongue flat against her widening slit, her hands tightened hard in his hair, pulling and pushing him equally.
God, he had missed this.
But it felt new somehow. Different. Better than ever before.
He pushed his tongue right up into her, her taste flowing into his mouth and he had no idea how he didn't come.
But she did.
Her cries filled his head, her body twisting in his gasp, her nails against his scalp.
He pulled back from her just enough to lift his head up over her mound to kiss that triangle of trimmed hair, then up to the diagonal line of ink a little higher.
She was still moaning, her hips wiggling on his bed, her hands around the back of his neck now.
He swirled his tongue down into her bellybutton and licked up out of it.
"John," she gasped, her hands pulling around the top of his neck, calling him up her.
But he'd never gotten to do this before, so he took his time, licking up out of her bellybutton and up the middle of her stomach. As he did, he pulled his arms up over her raised legs to reach down to mattress on either side of her, crawling slowly further up the mattress.
He finished his long lick where her ribs started and he started to carefully lower his middle to her belly, pressing her down into the mattress. Her knees bumped against his sides, her hands sliding and then gripping his back, her breathy moans telling him she was more than okay with the new boy-on-top action.
He nuzzled up over her ribs to the underside swell of one of her breasts as one of her hands got down to his backside, her nails digging in hard.
Grinning into her cleavage he slid further up her, now sliding belly to belly, and it was the most arousing thing he'd ever done before.
Up until his aching head met her wet flesh.
Her nails dung harder into his backside, pulling him closer.
He reached down between them, guiding him to her, testing her entrance with his fingers. She was groaning, her fingers digging into his backside and her words begging him to fill her.
He pushed the full head of his erection into her, flesh to flesh.
They'd done it before. She had some Alliance contraceptive implant, and he hadn't been with anyone else, but it felt almost too much.
He squeezed his eyes shut as he withdrew and pushed back into her, teasing her open, asking to go deeper.
One of her hands grazed along his jaw, drawing his chin up.
He lifted up from her throat, sliding his mouth across her cheek to her lips, sinking his tongue into her open panting mouth.
He dug his elbows into the mattress beside her, settling as much of his weight as he could onto her and her legs came up around him, her knees against the back of his arms.
He pulled his hips back a fraction and pushed deeper as her tongue slid around his.
Only he had to pull his mouth from hers as he was finally buried right up into her.
"Yes," she whispered deep and long against him, both her hands on his butt now, holding him in her. "Yessss," she gasped.
He couldn't speak, couldn't say anything as he drew his hips back and pushed back into place, rubbing long slow strokes with each retreat and push back.
"More, John," she gasped against his lips.
He panted against her words, as he moved a little faster, each stroke longer than the last, chasing away all thought.
"More, John," her nails dug harder into him.
He ground harder and faster, pushing their groins harder together with each push.
Her mouth pressed to his cheek, her tongue a wet slide as he groaned loud.
She felt so good, so wet. So tight.
"Teyla," he moaned. "I can't," he heard himself stutter as he ground into her full embrace, keeping his belly and chest against hers. He could feel his orgasm building, and he wanted to hold it back, but he couldn't. Couldn't hold back from her.
"Yes, John," whispered against his cheek, then "Yes, John," right into his ear, one of her hands sliding up around the back of his neck.
He tried to slow down, to prolong it, but it was impossible.
It felt kind of like that final rush when Todd had given him back his life, but so much more. He felt the building bliss rushing down his spine, his body losing all control, the bed creaking loudly under them.
Her fingers were tight around the back of his neck, her hips lifting with each of his strokes, her moans mixing with his as he lifted enough to look down at her, meet her dark luminous eyes.
He came hard, crying out loud and long with it.
Her hands slid up into his hair, her mouth widening as he ground hard into her with his last push, one of his hands somehow under her head through the thin pillow. She tipped her head back into his palm, her mouth wide open and her eyes closing, and he watched as she came, her inner walls flexing hard around him.
He had never seen her like that before, not so lost, so abandoned, and he pushed the last of his weakening erection inside her, eking out the last vestiges of it with her. Prolonging it out as long as he could, and then he couldn't focus on anything more.
Her arms slid around him, her chest against his cheek, her legs around his back, holding him down on her. He felt like every part of him melted over her as he lay, panting on her.
He loved her so much.
His wife.
His Queen.
She chuckled loud against him, the sound deep and gorgeous direct from her chest up through his.
"Did I say all that out loud?" He slurred against her skin.
"Yes, you did," she answered him, her fingers raking through his hair.
He chuckled weakly against her chest, every part of him limp.
"I love you too, John," she said against his forehead. "I am sorry if I have not shown it before."
He smiled happily as she pressed her lips to the space above his nose, her arms and legs tightening around him.
Oh yeah.
She pressed another little kiss to his forehead, then another to his eyebrow, her fingers now sliding long smooth strokes through his hair and across his shoulders.
"I'm not too heavy?" He managed to ask coherently, the world starting to grow fuzzy. He'd move before he fell asleep, but he felt just too good right now...
"No," she said in her soft voice against his forehead. "You feel wonderful."
Her fingers slid over his cheek. "Okay," whispered against her skin as his eyes drifted shut. "I'll just stay here a bit."
He heard her chuckle again, then felt her shift a little and the light against the outside of his eyelids dropped into darkness and a new warmth arrived across his back, probably his blankets.
He should probably move.
Her hands slid a long smooth path up his back, up his neck and down again.
"I've really missed you," he whispered into his sleepy space.
He felt her lips against his temple, her arms settling across the back of his shoulders.
"And I you. Sleep, my love," she whispered temptingly. "I will be here when you wake up."
He sighed happily and surrendered to her suggestion, feeling the drawing pull of sleep.
This was the best end to the worst day.
And if he had to live through it all again just to be here, he would.
Here, with his Teyla.
His Queen.
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And to finish...