Baby's Bathtime

Cainwen: pretty please review! don't make me beg!

Teyla had joined John and Ronon on the balcony outside of Mairghread's quarters. The warm afternoon sunshine smiled down on the small group, which for all the world should have been photographed for Hallmark. Ronon had at last been placated by a plate of newly introduced barbecued ribs, and so was now leaning casually against the railing while John and Teyla played with the baby wraith on a blanket spread out on the ground.

John blew a gentle raspberry against Mairghread's tummy, which sent the infant into giggling ecstasy.

Teyla cocked her head to one side. "What was that?"

"Oh, well, in my family we called it a 'fubballow'," he replied as he tickled the wraithling and Ronon snorted.

Teyla studied the Satedan. Since lunch, a change seemed to have come over the giant man that could not be completely attributed to meat. He seemed to have become more comfortable around Mairghread than he ever had; a softness seemed to have come over him. She decided that tonight would probably be the best chance she would have to change his mind about the little girl.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That evening, as other members of the expedition sat down to dinner, write reports or watch movies (of which they had a greater selection now), Teyla, with her eternal bodyguard Ronon, settled down to getting Mairghread ready for bed.

Ronon had been quieter that afternoon and evening, even as he practiced with the marines. Everyone had noticed, which was probably the most surprising, since most people avoided Ronon in general—he was still a huge and frightening person, after all.

Teyla lay Mairghread on the changing table while Ronon filled the baby tub with warm (but not hot!) water. The tiny wraithling looked up at her with her huge eyes, which always seemed to have both an absolutely innocent child and wise old woman staring out of those two green-gold windows.

Carefully, she unsnapped the footsie and eased it over the baby's large head. If someone had told Teyla that one day she would both feel and act like a mother to a wraith infant, she would have laughed in their face. Her? Care for the devil spawn of the worst enemy imaginable? In the words of one of the marines, "If you believe that, I've got a bridge in Brooklyn I'd like to sell you…", wherever Brooklyn was.

But as she looked at the helpless infant in front of her, she could not help all her maternal instincts and yearning from swelling to the surface.

"Here," growled Ronon, breaking her reverie and returning with the tub, which he set on a table covered in towels.

"Thank you, Ronon," Teyla lifted Mairghread and held her to her shoulder, enjoying the softness of her baby skin, the warmth of her body, the sweet smell of infancy. It is a peculiarity to be noted among nearly all humanoid species that for the first year or so of life, their members exude a sweet, clean scent, which, it has been argued, is a highly evolved survival strategy. Whenever a female of the species smell this particular olfactory stimulus, it inevitably produces in them the desire to have a child of their own, ignoring the potentially fatal nature of such an endeavor, as well as the inevitable pain.

Whether or not this is actually so, Teyla was immensely content to gently splash the tiny blue baby in the green and white bathtub with warm water and caress her soft folds of baby fat with baby soap and fuzzy black hair with shampoo while her little darling cooed and reached for errant bubbles.

Ronon stood off to the side, frowning slightly, but not growling, as had been his custom of late. Tonight, the hulking former runner was not frowning solely because of the presence of a wraith, even a miniature one, in his domain. Rather, he was troubled by the invasive and confusing thoughts that had been springing unbidden to his mind ever since he overheard several conversations at the mess hall that morning.

For years, Ronon had buried that voice in his head that argued philosophical points, thrived on shades of grey and generally made things more complicated. When you're on the run from the wraith, life needs to be lived under simple rules, like 'don't stay in one place for more than a few hours. Large groups of people to be avoided.' and 'wraith bad. Guns and knives good'. Unfortunately, since arriving in Atlantis, that voice had been popping up more and more, and now it was yelling at him full throttle. The conversations he had had with Teyla on the matter at hand hadn't helped either.

On the one hand, the voice argued, she is a wraith, which has been previously established as bad.

On the other hand, membership in a certain race does not necessarily mean that an individual is doomed to the larger group's flaws or virtues. Look at the Genii. Definitely human, but also definitely evil.

So, if race did not determine someone's virtuous or demonic status, what did?

Their actions. There was not a single wraith who was not guilty of thousands of brutal murders, genocides, and who knew what other terrible crimes.

But what about Mairghread?

"Ronon?" Teyla's inquiring voice jerked the musing Satedan back to reality. In her arms, she held the wraithling, dressed for bed in a pink sleeper and quietly sucking her thumb. "Could you hold Mairghread for a moment? I am going to get us something to eat."

"I'll go," he said quickly, desperate not to touch the wraith child, but the Athosian shook her head.

"I do not want a roast chicken or barbecued ribs," she laughed gently as she placed the baby in his large hands. "I will return soon," she reassured him. "There is a bottle in the warmer. If it rings before I return, would you please feed her? Remember to check the temperature!" she called out as she went out through the door.

Teyla slipped into the adjacent apartment, where the two marine guards sat at the surveillance consoles, a tray of fruit salad, jello, waters and cold chicken already ready and waiting for Teyla.

"Pardon me, ma'am," ventured one of the marines as she joined them in front of the screens. "But do you really think is a good idea?"

Teyla simply offered her patented calm, assured smile.

TBC

Next: Left Holding the Baby