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Chapter 9 – Rage and Romance
Zabetha had convinced her to move down to the family dining area for some food some time ago, and though craving the privacy of her quarters, Teyla had remained here by herself. Here at least she could try to do something useful with the prolonged waiting.
The report from the Military Council's emergency meeting on the Toshka incident sat before her, but truthfully she hadn't managed to read more than a few paragraphs. Her heart was simply not interested. She was far too interested in watching the minutes pass by.
Father had appeared not too long ago, personally informing her that John and the others from Atlantis had arrived through the Portal.
Since then, she had achieved even less in her reading.
The anxiety ate at her.
The practised words turned through her mind, annoying her now.
She focused back down on the pad, forcing herself to understand the plain language.
Outside, through the open doorway to the Orchard Courtyard, Teyla could hear a gardener humming. She was out there in the light rain, taking down the last of the fruit crop. The woman was the only person around this part of the complex, Father and Zabetha being in the meeting with Atlantis, and Elkaska had headed out with Charin into Tjaru today to arrange some last details for the wedding.
She suspected everyone was giving her space.
She felt both embarrassed and deeply grateful for that.
Yet, the distant gentle sounds of clippers and the soft fall of fruits bouncing down into the gardener's padded basket were welcome. Teyla couldn't see the open doorway from here, but the scrape of the ladder against bark, the shift in the gardener's gentle humming, told Teyla the tale of the easy contented work outside.
She had purposed not brought Ketra down here, for which the gardener had expressed her gratitude earlier. Ketra would no doubt have found such readily available fruit far too tempting.
So Teyla sat alone in the candlelight of the dining room.
It felt far too symbolic to her right now.
The sudden soft sliding hiss of the door to the family area sliding open echoed outside in the lobby.
All of Teyla's senses focused on the sound. Holding her breath, she waited to hear the fall of boots across the lobby carpet...
Nothing happened.
She could hear voices, but they were a little too distant outside the main door to be audible.
She waited a little longer, straining her hearing, her eyes flittering to the time displayed on the wall above the dining table.
Even moving at a slow steady pace, John and his people would have made it to the Governing Complex by now, mostly likely already inside the complex.
No one stepped through the main door into the lobby though.
Which meant it was mostly like just the guard outside, possibly even a change of shift.
Annoyed at her hypersensitivity to everything, she returned her attention to the pad lying on the table before her. It seemed incomprehensible to her, her mind and body too distracted to even be able to process simple words.
Soft footfalls suddenly registered to her right – someone was entering the entrance to the dining room.
She felt the focused attention on her before she even began to look round.
He was here.
Finally here in the flesh, stood in the archway entrance, flattering candlelight and dancing shadows around him.
As happened each time she saw him, she was struck by how truly handsome he was. All her anxiety of the last days simply fell away at the glorious sight of him.
His smile was soft and his greeting almost unheard as he moved towards her, his beautiful eyes soft and dark, and his striking presence stealing her breath.
His smile, full of so much that she recognised and responded to instinctively – affection, humour, pleasure, relief, and something so deeply stirring that she felt nothing but intense joyful relief in seeing him again.
She rose from her seat as he approached, her mind returning somewhat to the anxiety which tried to rein in the natural overwhelming desire to reach out and touch him.
Only he was so close, his eyes falling to her lips, his warm hands touching her cheeks, and the masculine scent of him surrounded her like a sensual blanket.
Her body responded without any thought, the touch of his lips to hers so familiar, and so welcome, despite what was to come.
Why not enjoy one last kiss.
Only his lips began to press against hers with the flowing rapid moment of growing passion, their warmth inviting familiarity like a strike to her being, stealing away the last vestiges of logical thought.
She leant into the heat of his body, his tongue sliding around hers, the taste of him a long missed and achingly nostalgic memory.
His arms were moving around her, drawing her even closer into him, as she matched his deepening of the kiss, the soft almost emotional slow deep penetrations sparking real physical reactions throughout her body.
And with those reactions, some sense returned, not of what she needed to say, but of where they were.
She began to pull her mouth from his, tightening her hand on the front of his jacket, and he responded instantly, pulling his mouth free and his hold around her loosened.
And in that simple release, so abrupt and responsive had he been to her faintest tension, she felt a burst of pain as to what was to come.
He pulled back from her slightly, her chest and arms feeling instantly cold without his touch. "Sorry," he said so softly, so gently and imbued with that sensual humour that teased at her. "Forgot where we were."
She nodded as she licked her lips and tried to pull herself together.
Yet, he was still releasing her, his hands falling from her sides as he put more distance between their bodies.
Her heart, so foolishly open and raw in that moment, cried out at that loss and that this would be the last time to feel him, to have this beautiful untainted honesty with him before it was lost.
He was glancing around, looking for anyone who may be around. There was that wonderful humour in his expression though, despite his caution. She could not pull her eyes from him, noticing that his jaw was slightly darkened today with natural stubble. His eyes lowering back to hers.
Why did he have to be so handsome to look upon?
Why did he have to steal her mind and her breath so easily?
Why could it not be easier than this?
She glanced away, crushing down the emotions that threatened to rush up and clog up her voice.
She cleared her throat as she blinked away some of the haze his presence, let alone his welcoming kiss, had created.
"It is alright," she assured him, "there is only a gardener outside in the courtyard."
He nodded. "Good, don't want to get caught out by your uncle or the butler."
She frowned at the term she did not understand.
"A butler is someone who answers the door, brings tea," he began to ramble. "It doesn't matter. You okay?" He asked, his voice deepening, softening further, drawing her back into the promise of reaching up to touch him again, to feel his lips one more time.
She saw that he could see that something disturbed her, that as responsive as he had been to her touch earlier, he now could see something was wrong.
She nodded and glanced away, appearing to look in the direction of the still open doorway to the courtyard. The angle of the door was such that even if the gardener had been stood just outside she would have been unlikely to have seen the shared kiss. It hardly mattered to Teyla if she had, for this was to be...
"I am well," she made herself say, forcing herself to look back up to him.
He frowned faintly, his hands lightly touching her arms again. "You sure?" She could tell he was unconvinced and was concerned about her. His eyes studied her with less seduction now and more of a warrior's focus.
"I am fine," she told him, reaching out and touching her fingers against the middle of his chest without thinking. His body warmth teased her fingers and the scent of things Earth rose from the fabric.
She should restrain herself, but she saw the reaction in him that such a simple touch had caused. His smile and softer gaze returning.
"You got me worried there," he said in a way that implied it was a joke.
She took a steadying breath as she glanced back round towards the doorway to the courtyard.
She was tempted to talk with him here, to cut to the chase of the matter, to confess her heartfelt regret and pour out the excuses she had practised so frequently.
Yet, it was too public and she knew that she traitorously wished to delay the moment now that he was here.
It would not be fair to tell him here, where anyone could overhear. He deserved better, and she needed privacy.
In case the emotions rose to overwhelm her again.
He truly tore away all her control.
And it was that reminder that gave her a rush of determination. She looked up at him with a breath.
"There is one matter that I do need to discuss with you," she told him, pleased with those simple determined words at least.
"Sure," he replied at ease, unaware and perhaps thinking it was their customary excuse to find time alone.
Was it wise to be alone with him? Perhaps it would be best to remain here...
Except she could hear the gardener's soft happy humming.
"We should retire perhaps," she suggested, then regretted the turn of phrase, one that in the past was more akin to a double meaning between them. "There are official matters that I do need to discuss with you," she added more seriously.
He nodded with another smile and she fought not to smile back, but still did so. "Things okay on the Sythus?" He asked as he turned, walking with her towards the archway to the lobby.
They had walked this route many times, climbing the stairs up to the living quarters of the complex, up to her personal quarters. She tried to push away the realisation that this would be the last time to do this with him.
Part of her wanted to beg him not to walk any further, not to make her live what was to be an ending.
She focused her thoughts, again annoyed at herself for losing such control of her thoughts and heart.
"There has been some commotion of late," she managed to say. They were walking across the rugs towards the stairs.
"Everyone okay?" He asked with honest concern. Though he had only worked alongside her fellow Elite from the Sythus a handful of times, the connections felt far deeper. He had enamoured himself with Si, Halling, and somehow even Oneakka, and had done so without any ego or politics driving him. He was simply an honourable man, a warrior with a good heart.
One she had to distance herself from, yet being so soon to arrive at the moment was even more difficult than she had realised.
She had forgotten how much she simply loved being around him.
"No one was hurt," she replied as they began to climb the stairs.
"I know what that means," he smiled.
She looked round at him next to her, seeing in his eyes something assessing. "Oh?" She found herself asking.
He looked ahead of them as they turned the short landing and continued up the next flight of stairs. "Yeah, probably a gun battle, some sword play," he joked, mostly, as he looked back at her. "Somebody got hurt."
There had been something in that last word, almost a question and that assessing expression returned around his eyes. She sensed some concern in it still.
Was he perhaps referring to Kari?
She looked away. "Something like that," she replied, trying to smile, but it was brittle.
They walked up the next few steps in silence.
"I'm sorry about what happened to Kari," he said, speaking of the matter out loud, surprising her somewhat with his directness.
The haunting grief and guilt reared their heads as she nodded, watching her boots sink into the thick carpet at the top of the stairs. "She will be missed."
John nodded as they headed down the corridor, side by side again.
"You going to have a new Elite join the Sythus?" He asked.
"Perhaps," she replied. "Though we are due to leave on a vital mission tomorrow eve, so the decision may wait until after our return."
"Got to do the interviews, collect CVs," he joked, though she did not entirely understand the last word, but she understood his point.
Elite interviewing each other – it almost made her smile.
"Just don't put Oneakka in charge of interviewing anyone," John added, his shoulder bumping gently against hers.
She smiled honestly at that. "It would become more an interrogation than an interview."
"I've had a few interviews come close to interrogation," he replied.
They had reached her quarters and she triggered open the door. As always, Ketra was sat on the other side looking up expectantly, only this time she bounded forward with more exuberance. She had heard John approaching.
"Hey, Ketra," John greeted the bubbling whirl of dragon as he fought get in through the door.
Teyla smiled at the display, grateful for the distraction as she led the way into her space, the door sliding shut behind John.
"Decided to stop growing upwards and start to fill out instead, huh?" John asked Ketra as he rubbed her back.
Teyla set down the one sword she had been wearing and set her single stunner aside on her desk. She looked back across her living space and watched as John crouched down on the floor with Ketra, who was circling him repeatedly as he stroked her sides.
"She does appear to be increasing her muscle mass," Teyla commented as she approached them.
Her previously practised words circled her mind just as Ketra circled John's legs. He stood back up, one hand massaging Ketra's closest ear.
"It's probably all those Wraith she's killing," he joked, knowing that Ketra had not done so since the time she had helped save John's life from a Wraith. An event which had, for some reason, changed Ketra's initial view of John from hostile to loving him as if family.
That thought made Teyla glance away.
"You sure you're okay?" He asked approaching, his tone worried.
She nodded. "How is Atlantis?" She asked, looking up at him as he neared.
"No one's tried to attack the city or try to assassinate me in at least a week," he replied with that lopsided smile of his.
The reminder of that fateful night in his quarters in Atlantis did not lessen her growing anxiety.
"You must be more careful in the future," she reminded him.
"Because you can't always be around to save my backside, I know," He said as he stepped up close to her, well within her personal space. His eyes were dark and amused at the reference to their usual joke.
But, who would watch over him once she was out of his life? Be that in her new marriage or when one day a Wraith took her life in battle.
"I am serious," she insisted up to him, aware that she had only so much time now to say such things. "If Kolya is seeking to hurt you-"
"Then we'll stop him," he interrupted and suddenly his hands were once more touching her face, his fingertips warm and caressing. "Or we could just set Ketra on him," he added in a low voice as he once more lowered his mouth towards her.
She thought to stop him, to pull back, but she did not.
It was her last chance after all.
This time his mouth moved with a seductive touch, drawing and teasing against her lips. It pulled all her attention to his caresses, one of his hands sliding around the back of her head, her hair tangling in his fingers as his mouth opened wider against hers.
The spell settled over her again, drawing in her senses and her mind as if she were partway through the event horizon of a Portal when that unfathomable force pulled her all way into its watery embrace.
As he pulled her into his embrace. Not with force or teasing pulls, but with the pure physicality of him.
His chest was warm against her hands, the fabric of his jacket soft as she gripped it, holding tightly onto the moment a little longer.
His own hands slid down her back, sliding around her, drawing her further against him and she sank into the embrace, sinking into the hard plains of his chest and the containing warmth of his arms.
If this was to be her last kiss, then she would indulge in it fully.
She opened her mouth further as she sought deeper into the warm wetness of his mouth, his taste and the scent of his skin stirring powerful memories.
He drew in a loud inhalation against their kiss, the sound almost a growl of approval as he pulled her tighter to him, forcing them to angle their heads to one side to maintain their kiss and press so close.
She felt the hard press of his arousal, felt the new tightness in his grip at her back, and it created a powerful new throbbing deep inside her.
She broke the kiss, not to pull away from the growing sensations, but needing oxygen. She drew air into her suddenly hot body, willing a moment of clarity, but his mouth slid over her jaw and down her throat.
She closed her eyes at the sensation, nothing seeming to make sense to her but his mouth, his hands sliding up under her short top, air spreading against her back.
Just one more touch.
His touch was at the back of her neck now, her top caught up under her arms. She let go of him, telling herself to step away from him, but instead she helped him remove the fabric.
His lips caught at hers as soon as she was free of the top, the fabric dropping from her hands as quickly as it did from her awareness.
His mouth moved lower, his warm wet tongue sliding over her collarbone, softly biting above one breast, and she tightened her fingers in his spiky hair.
The thought once more rose to stop this, to find a moment of clarity to stop the passion, but the thoughts died in the swirl of his tongue around one of her nipples.
She was faintly aware that they had been moving, that she had been letting him push her backwards across her quarters towards where the door led through to her bedroom. It was a route they had travelled in a similar state many times before.
Shadows fell over her face as they passed through the small tiny interlinking hallway and then through her bedroom doorway, but she kept her attention focused on pulling his dark jacket and his tight shirt up and off of him, desperate to touch his chest one last time.
Turbulent need drove her now, as well as an all too willing desire to lose herself into the simple purity of this last moment with him.
His hands were inside her trousers, pushing them down from her backside, his hands hot, squeezing.
She heard herself gasp as his fingers sought further, sliding against her core, teasing with knowing familiarity at how she liked to be touched.
That simple fact felt as painfully symbolic as much as it was electrifying. She held still, letting him tease her, pleasure her and lead her only further into the oblivion that she desperately sought.
His mouth sucked and kissed up her throat again as his fingers pressed deeper up into her. She clung to him, digging her fingers into the thick muscle of his upper arms. She was so close to what she had not realised she needed.
His breath was hot over her lips as she panted, his fingers sliding deeper.
Soft pressure against the back of her legs was her bed, and she opened her eyes, surprised at where she was, but with a whispered encouragement from John's mouth against hers, she let herself sit down onto it, surrendering as his hands pulled from inside her trousers.
But he did not leave her. She blinked as he swiftly pulled down the last of her clothing, revealing her bare legs, which she encircling around his naked middle, her eyes trailing down his long torso to the tight restraint of fabric around his hips and groin.
And then he was lowering, his hands sliding up the inside of her thighs.
Almost unable to think at all now, she cried out at the touch of his mouth against her, his hands cupping her backside again as his tongue penetrated into her.
She arched her back as the sensations overtook her, reaching down and holding tightly to his hair as she moved with him.
It was a sudden shaking orgasm that hit her, sweeping numbed blissfulness into sharp intensity that had her snap open her eyes and stare down at John between her legs. He lifted his face from her, and was reaching away, roughly pulling open the draw beside her bed. He pulled out a small packed sheath, quickly tucking it between his teeth as he rose up next to her on the bed.
He was too dressed.
She pulled open his belt and the fastenings beneath it as he tore open the sealed packet. As he settled onto his back next to her she was unwrapping him in turn. She sighed in growing regained need at the muscle, skin, and arousal revealed. His long thighs were thick and lean as she pushed away his trousers, running her hands back up their length and setting one knee on the far side of him. Astride over him, his length protectively sheathed, and his hands sliding up her body, she bent down over him, her nipples grazing against his chest hair as she slid her tongue into his mouth.
He met her attack with equal ferocity, his hands tight against her, his forearms like bands of wrought metal enclosing her, pulling her over him, holding and adding resistance for her as she reached between them and guided him to her.
She pulled her mouth from his as she took him in, the sliding length of him seeming somehow even more satisfying than she had remembered. He groaned under her, muttering something divine as his lips pressed against her throat.
She ground down onto him, taking him in entirely, circling, seeking to be with him as deeply as possible, but in that fact she felt the recalled emotion rising up once more.
Pushing it away, she stared down at him as she began to rise and lower, stroking them together one last time...
She closed her eyes again.
His palms slid up over her breasts, squeezing and caressing, and she heard him whisper her name.
She squeezed her eyes shut further, willing away the rush of tears, wishing the pouring emotion flowering through her chest was not as intense as the purely physical arousing giving of his body.
His hands slid over her, around her back, down to her hips, down and up her thighs, and over her belly.
She dropped her head backwards, denying herself the sight of him, wishing control even in this moment, but he was too much, it was too overwhelming.
His hands covered her breasts again, so close to her heart, so close to where she wished she could live.
She cupped her hands over his, holding him to her as she ground down, the pressure rising. It grew stronger as he sat up under her, his mouth suddenly against her lower lip, and she dipped her mouth to seal her lips to his.
One last time...
His arms around her, he lifted up into her as she moved, their rhythm well developed now, attuned and equal...
She licked into his mouth, trying to memorise it all, yet it was so difficult to keep focus, to...
She cried out, breaking her mouth from his, one of his hands firm on her backside, pulling them tighter together as they danced their last together.
She gasped with the heavy thrusts, gripping onto his rounded muscular shoulders, and bent to press her lips to his skin, wishing away the tears that truly threatened to spill.
Her eyes closed, she could only feel him holding her, filling her, kissing her shoulder, his heart hammering in his chest against hers.
And her body seemed to split apart as the passion exploded in her, firing off all her nerve endings and spreading electric heat throughout.
As it washed over and through her, clasping tightly to John, she felt him go rigid, his body tensing under hers as he let out a long pained pleasured groan against the hollow of her throat, his hips pulsing between her legs.
She held on to him, her anchor in the washing sea of nothing but sensations.
She had almost forgotten how wonderful it was with him.
Then she was falling, softness meeting her side as she collapsed down against the bed beside him.
Pleasure, sweet exhaustion, and wondrous peace were all she felt and she held onto them. Panting into the incense scent of her bed throw, she simply enjoyed the feel of John's body beside hers, his arm and leg lying partly over her, his skin clinging to hers.
The silence inside and outside of herself was soothing, the first relief and peace she had had in days, but around its edges she felt the tangled truth of mental clarity fast approaching. She resisted it, willing her own nature away, wishing away her regimented life...
Only the clarity focused on the scent beneath her cheek, of the sensation of the slightly crinkled bed throw. A throw she had had since she had been young. She had used to sneak out into the Orchard Courtyard with it wrapped around her shoulders, where she would look up to the stars and dream of the worlds that circled them. She had imagined the fight against the Wraith raging out among those pinpoints of light, all from within the warmth of her bed throw.
Her first dreams of her Elite life had been born in its warmth.
She opened her eyes, the clarity abruptly reasserted and the former softer wishes falling away as childish and dishonourable.
She blinked at the sight of John's bare shoulder filling her view.
He was softly stroking her arm, his breathing settling from its rapid pace.
"I need to speak with you," she uttered. They were words from the practised nights in which she had rehearsed how to tell him of her decisions. Though they were entirely inappropriate to say now, considering what they had just shared, she found that they tumbled from her lips now.
He turned his head towards her, blinking sleepily, his eyes focusing on her with a faint frown of forced concentration.
"I had meant to tell you sooner," she told him, the words gathering pace. "It was swiftly arranged."
His frown deepened, but more from confusion. She saw him forming a question with his lips, which were swollen and red from their kisses. She forged on, unable to stop now.
"The celebrations tomorrow," she took a breath, tasting their combined scents between them and it distracted the words for a moment. "It is purely political, a decision I have made for the better of others."
He shifted next to her to look at her more directly, the unusual green of his eyes showing as his pupils contracted. "What do you-?"
She did not let him ask anymore. "I should have spoken with you sooner, not that there is anything binding between us, but I thought it...polite to." She was losing the line of her practised words and she was getting confused with the order of the phrases.
She pushed herself up from the mattress, dislodging his arm and leg as she did. She felt the need to cover herself.
She had been foolish, dishonourable to him.
"What's polite?" He asked, clearly confused.
She took a breath and looked to where he was partly raised up on one elbow beside her, his expression still sleepy.
She felt deeply guilty and shameful in selecting this moment to tell him. But it was upon her now.
"I have decided to enter into a Political Marriage, the ceremony is tomorrow," she told him in a rush.
His eyebrows shot up and his mouth dropped open in shock. "What?!" He asked in disbelief.
He sat up sharply. "You don't believe in Political Marriages," he told her with continuing disbelief.
"I did not say that exactly, they have their value," she found herself arguing.
"Like what?" He objected almost angrily. "Enslaving people together?"
She felt her back rise slightly at that comment and the tone he was using. People did not raise their voices often to an Elite.
"Political Marriages are an important part of how the Alliance works-"
"Like keeping slaves?" He interrupted.
"It is not the same thing. That is an outdated inhumane practice-" She reasoned as she rose up from the bed, reaching for her robe to cover herself.
"And arranged marriages aren't?" He challenged standing up from the bed as well.
"It is not arranged, I choose whom I marry," she explained to him as she secured the ties of her robe around her middle.
"Who is he?" John demanded, his face dark and stony, which was in strange sharp contrast to the fact that he stood in the intimacy of nudity.
"The final decision has not been made," she explained. "But at this point, it is highly like to be General Maloo-"
"How long have you been seeing him?" John demanded.
Thrown again by his repeated interruptions and the growing sense that she had lost control of the discussion, she faced him solidly as she gripped her robe's ties.
"I have not been seeing him," she explained. "I have not even met him yet."
"You haven't even met the guy?! And this isn't an arranged marriage?"
"No, it is not," she argued back.
"Sure sounds like one to me," John pushed. "You haven't met the guy and you're marrying him tomorrow."
She took a deep breath, willing patience. "It may not be Maloo, I could choose another in the Offering Ceremony."
"There are other guys?" He asked angrily.
"The list has not been finalised," she explained.
"Have you met any of them?" He asked, his tone disrespectful and mocking.
"Some perhaps," she replied, her own anger rising again. Why would he not stop and listen to her?
His jaw tensed as he stared down at her, his eyes wide. "Have you been sleeping with any of them?"
Shocked at the question, she stood up to her full height, albeit far shorter than his.
"How dare you ask that question," she told him sternly.
"Is that a yes or a no?" He pushed.
She clenched her lips and teeth together willing herself to remain calm. "You have no right to-"
"I get it," John interrupted again, reaching down to the floor for his clothes scattered between their feet.
She felt the urge to step away from him, give him space to collect up his clothes, but she held her ground.
"You do not 'get it'," she informed him. "This is a purely political contract designed to bind Athos with another Alliance world in trade and friendship. It will bring worlds together as well as forging ties with the Elite."
"So, you're selling yourself for some trade deals," John interpreted as he pulled on his trousers.
"I am not selling myself," she objected forcefully. "This is about contracts, not sex."
"And what's this been?" He asked gesturing violently to the bed beside them, his shirt and jacket in one of his hands.
She frowned up at him, searching to keep a grasp of the logic to the argument and not give in to the urge to just walk away from him until he calmed down. Until she calmed down.
She did not back away from any battle, and she needed him to understand.
She took a breath. "We both knew this was something that could not last," she reminded him as gently as she could, finding it difficult to meet his eyes directly. "I am sorry to tell you this now, it has only been arranged this week."
"You should have told me," he almost shouted.
"I did not know before this week," she argued back, finding it easier to meet his eyes when her anger rose.
"Why now?" He asked, with his chest bare and his shoulders wide he seemed so much stronger in his defiance.
He truly did not understand and was taking this as a slight against him.
"The Alliance is fracturing," she explained, the words pouring out of her quickly before he might interrupt her again and not allow her to explain why this was important. "You saw for yourself during the treaty talks, we have discussed this-"
"And you think you marrying yourself off to someone in the High Council is going to make it all better? Make all the politics and backstabbing go away?"
She breathed out forcefully. "I know it will not do that, but it is in forging alliances such as this that created the Alliance in the first place. General Maloo is not of the High Council, he is a Genii general-"
"He's Genii?!" John asked angrily, his shirt halfway on. "You're going to marry a Genii?"
Taken back somewhat by his reaction to that point, she frowned up at him. "Perhaps."
"After one of them tried to kill me?" He demanded.
"That was one Genii. You cannot condemn an entire race for one man's actions-"
"They tried to take over Atlantis, Teyla," he interrupted yet again.
"Will you let me finish a complete sentence!" She told him angrily, confused, her own raised voice shocking herself.
It did not intimidate or faze John however, as it would have anyone else to have Elite warrior Emmagan shout at them. Not John though, instead she saw something almost pleased pass in his expression.
"Maybe I would if you weren't doing something so stupid," he told her.
She glared up at him, her temper flaring as she had only experienced a few times in her lifetime. "How dare you."
"I dare, Teyla," he told her plainly, stepping forward slightly. "Because I'm not one of your people, I don't have to bow down to your Elite status, begging for your attention and time in your bed."
Her mouth dropped open in shock and offence.
"You're about to marry a planet that not only tried to take my city away from me, killing some of my people in the process, but who then sent an assassin into my bedroom late at night to kill me!"
"I was the one who saved you," she pointed out. "Kolya is one individual acting off his own back on all those occasions."
"Cowen ordered the invasion of Atlantis," John argued.
"You do not know that for sure," she responded.
"Of course he did, why excommunicate Kolya so publically otherwise?"
"They thought he was dead," she pushed, realising that she was losing her way in this and perhaps not helping the situation. Why was she arguing on the side of the Genii?
Because she was about to become a Genii wife?
Was this what a Political Marriage would do to her?
"I don't believe this," John uttered as he pulled his shirt fully down into place and grabbed up his holster from on top of her crumpled bed.
She took a deep breath, trying to make herself see this from his point of view.
"I need you to understand that this is not about us," she tried.
"You sleeping with other men makes it about us," he objected as he clipped his holster around his waist.
"I have not slept with anyone else," she almost shouted at him, "and will never be likely to with Maloo. Sex is not part of a Political Marriage."
"Have you seen your sister and Rhakshar together?" John asked gesturing off towards the far wall. "I'm pretty sure everyone knows they're sleeping together."
"They are an exception," Teyla tried to explain. "All I am interested in doing is working to foster good relations and trade between Maloo's people and mine, as well as with the Elite."
He seemed to freeze at that, his face going swiftly blank as his eyes seemed to bore into her. "Is that what I've been?" He asked.
Thrown yet again in this unpredictable and horrible discussion, she tried to interpret his meaning. "What?"
"Was I just a way of 'fostering good relations and trade' with Atlantis?"
Her mouth opened once more with shock. "How can you ask that?"
To think he would think so little of her, to think all that they had shared was about politics.
"What am I supposed to think, Teyla?" He asked sharply in response. "Because it seems that I'm not anymore use to you now, so I'm being thrown aside for the new guy who you want on good terms for your dad and the Elite. A Genii as well," he added with disgust.
"We agreed from the start that politics had nothing to do with our time together," she pointed out, feeling abruptly hurt, her chest physically painful to think that he would think so little of her and what they had shared. Had she foolishly believed that it had meant as much to him as it had to her?
He turned away from her, showing her his back as he shoved his feet into his boots and, leaving them unsecured, he stomped away across her bedroom towards the open bedroom doorway. "Now I understand what your dad was going about on the way here," he was muttering. "All worried about trade with Atlantis."
Father had talked to him about that?
In truth, she had not actually considered that the marriage to a Genii would be such a major issue for John and Atlantis. After all the marriage was an internal Alliance matter, but she realised now that in choosing a Genii, it might significantly affect relations between Athos and Atlantis.
Father had realised that. Why had he not mentioned it to her before now?
Perhaps because Maloo was clearly going to be the final offer tomorrow and that Athos would gain considerably from the marriage contract. Yet, Father had tried it seemed to speak with John, but out of context, John had not understood Father's point.
She had not ever truly believed that John would hold her decision against her people, and somehow influence trade between Atlantis and Athos. But, she had not expected him to be so angry as this. Why had she not realised that he would react in such a way regarding a Genii? She had forgotten that for him, there was no division between the political world of the Genii Confederation and the terrible things that Kolya had done outside the border.
In that anger, would John hurt the trade negotiations?
Could her marriage fracture the contract with Atlantis?
"John," she said hurriedly to him as she followed him out of her bedroom into the small hallway outside. "Please do not make this about anything but us. Do not blame Athos for my decision."
He had reached the living room and, just inside the doorway, Ketra was stood staring up at them with nervous alarm in her eyes, her collar of spines partially lifted up from her neck.
"That's not my call, Teyla," John responded over his shoulder. "This is purely political after all."
Her own words thrown back at her.
"I know that you are upset-", she began, not liking that she was now following him, pushed to the point of begging.
"I'm not upset, Honoured Elite," John replied bitterly and clearly lying as he strode around the alarmed Ketra and stomped away across towards the exit to her quarters. "I think I'm thinking clearly for the first time since I met you."
What did that mean?
"Atlantis has benefitted greatly from working with the Elite and in trade with Athos and her trading partners that Father has introduced you to," she argued. "Do not damage your own people in seeking revenge on me."
He triggered open the door and stepped out in the public space of the corridor before the door had barely opened for him. Out there any raised voices might very well be overheard by any of the complex's staff that might be working in the living areas. Teyla had no doubt that John knew that and was using it to his advantage.
"Don't worry about that, Honoured Elite," he told her, "I'm only thinking politically."
And with that he disappeared, heading down the corridor away from her quarters.
She stepped out into the corridor after him, watching his back retreating away from her. "John," she found herself calling to him with as loud a voice as she could risk would not carry far. "Do not take this out on Athos or your own people. This is only between us."
"Not anymore," he replied without looking back round at her.
No one kept their back to an Elite, no one on her own homeworld would be so disrespectful anyway.
She had definitely made the right decision to end this affair. Clearly he was not right to have around in any form.
She felt the absurd inclination to pick something up and throw it at his retreating back, but she resisted. That would be behaving as childishly as he was.
He reached the top of the staircase that would take him down to the lower level and out of sight.
He did look back at her now though, but the bitter anger was still there. "Have fun sleeping next to your Genii husband in his tightly starched uniform, Honoured Elite," he told her, and then he was gone.
The urge to throw something after him rose again.
"Don't fall down any more holes," she shouted after him though, as loud as she could risk. "I won't be around to save you anymore."
She turned quickly back into her quarters, only to realise the door had shut behind her. She roughly jabbed at the control and it slid open far too slowly for her.
She stormed back into her quarters.
"Disrespectful, overly emotional man," she cursed. Ketra let out a nervous worried sound, but Teyla was too angry to console her yet. "I should never have bought him out of that slaver's cage!"
She spied the blossom potted plant that he had given her and Ketra, and in a sudden unthinking moment, she grabbed it up and threw it across her living space.
In the seconds it took the pot to fly through the air and hit the floor, scattering soil and blossoms over her carpet, tears were flowing from her eyes.
She wiped at them angrily, wishing away the pain that was now rising up in her throat, and with it a panic that she had perhaps shared her last ever words with John.
And hurtful and disrespectful they had been.
He did not understand what she was trying to achieve. Her sacrifice of marriage was to be honoured. She was doing this for the greater good of everyone.
"He cannot think beyond himself," she muttered out loud. "Or beyond Atlantis' walls. Better to be rid of him!"
Ketra's snout brushed cold and anxious against Teyla's hand, and she looked down through hazy tear-filled eyes to the dragon. She stroked a shaking palm over Ketra's shockingly deep blotched gray skin, the colour reflecting Ketra's mood.
"We are far better without him," Teyla whispered, wiping away her tears with her other hand.
Wishing away the feeling, and the knowledge, that she had thrown away the one man she had ever met who had touched her so deeply. So deeply as to have her losing her temper and throwing things.
She looked across at the fallen plant, the soil and blossoms scattered across the carpet and rug. Regretting her actions instantly, she feared she had damaged the plant.
That she had damaged far more.
00000
TBC