She argued with herself whenever her muscles began to ache, attempting to coax herself to her bed or at least to the commissary for a meal. Yet one look at him and she could not go. The steady beep of the heart monitor assured her of his stable condition and the stillness of his form in repose upon the infirmary bed comforted her with his peaceful slumber. Yet ever since they reached Atlantis, she could not let go of his hand. The faint pulse of his thumb kept her rooted to her chair, as if the gentle bump of blood was nurturing her.
She stretched her neck, watching his face, her eyes lingering on a bruised cheekbone. She didn’t know why she was so compelled to keep him company, for as he slept he would not notice her absence. She figured it had something to do with the fact that she’d remained with him thus far, and that abandoning him now would render all her patience and silent support futile. A part of her felt he was her charge, and yet in the same breath she would gladly acknowledge his dependence on no one.
The light she’d seen in his unfocused eyes in the jumper, she’d decided, was hope. He had looked to her with hope, which was a comforting thought. But the affection twined with the hope was what lingered in her mind and fluttered her doubting heart. She could think of nothing that ever previously existed between them to merit such warmth from him, least of all in such a disoriented state. Then again, maybe that was it. Maybe Carson was right in that Ronon had not been aware of what was occurring and what he was experiencing, and therefore his seemingly misplaced affection could be explained away with the lunacy of medication.
Why did that thought sadden her?
She sat up straighter when she realized the truth of the matter. The look in his eyes, no matter where or whence it came, was welcome to her. She enjoyed the fleeting sensation and the warmth it spread through her. To explain it away as a mere random delusional happening robbed her of any girlish hope that the light in his eyes may have stemmed from something deeper; something truthful.
She knew the answer was entwined with the word he had uttered to her. At the time she’d thought it a question but in retrospect and the tired fog of her memory she was no longer certain. She surprised herself when her cheeks colored as she tried to imagine a conversation in the very near future when she might be able to skillfully weave in mention of what he had said to her and to probe his recollections on the matter.
Suddenly her grandmother’s voice filled her head, reminding her that it was none of her business and that she should leave the poor boy alone. Such secrets that spill forth unguarded in moments of delirium are not to be trifled with... and yet she had to know. An inexplicably hopeful fabric of her heart longed for the affection to have been meant for her. She let that daydream dance lazily in her tired mind until Dr. Beckett poked his head around the corner to note the Satedan’s condition.
He cocked his head with a concerned line between his brows. “You need rest, love.”
Teyla offered him a small smile then returned her gaze to the slow rise and fall of Ronon’s chest. “I will be fine.”
Carson sighed and tugged a chair next to hers before seating himself with the Satedan’s medical chart in hand. He glanced over the numbers he’d recorded then to the monitors and scribbled down a few notes. As he wrote, he stole a glance at Teyla’s hand cupped over the scratched hand of Ronon. His azure eyes flicked to her face. She was gazing at Ronon’s peaceful visage and Carson bit his lower lip before he spoke quietly, hooking the chart back onto the end of the bed. “Why are you here, Teyla?”
The question drew her eyebrows together and turned her gaze to his. “What do you mean?”
“I mean the rest of your teammates have listened to me and taken some rest after this whole mess. Why have you not gone for at least a bit of shut-eye? We’ve been back for nearly eight hours now.”
Her eyes traced the thin lines of his face for a moment before she looked away, down to the hand she held in hers. Her lips parted as she gently slipped her hand away from the Satedan’s, resting it in her lap.
Carson watched the movement with keen attention, looking to her eyes. She was studying her hands which now cradled one another. He rested a hand on her knee. “Are you alright, love?”
She offered him a poised smile. “Of course.” The continued concern in his gaze stripped her of her lie and she let her shoulders slump, looking back to Ronon’s face. “I am concerned for him.”
Carson withdrew his hand from her knee. “Aye, as are we all. But he’s on the mend. At the moment, only time and medicine will help him heal.” She nodded slowly, distractedly, and Carson knew he hadn’t gotten through to her yet. “He’d want you to take care of yourself, Teyla.”
She looked back to him then with a small, self-conscious smile as she inhaled. “I know. However I cannot bring myself to leave his side.”
He cocked his head. “Why do you suppose that is?”
She shrugged. “Just a feeling that I have... that he should not wake up alone.”
Carson’s gaze languidly traveled over the form of the seemingly-peaceful Satedan. The chirp of the heart monitor filled the silence between them. Carson rubbed his eyes then looked to Ronon’s abandoned, abraded hand. The puckered red of the determined flesh fighting to heal slithered into his consciousness as remembrance of shielded pain kept at bay for the sake of survival. He extended his arm and delicately enfolded the Satedan’s fingers with his own. Their still forms were cool against the palm of his hand. He knew Teyla watched him as he studied his hand upon Ronon’s, noting the contrast in form and color between the two. At length he spoke. “You are a good friend, Teyla.”
She smiled at him, her hands now nestled in-between her knees. “As are you, Carson.”
“No.” He looked back up to her, meeting her smiling gaze. “That’s not what I mean. You see people, Teyla. And you are an incredibly strong individual.” The smile was slowly fading from her lips. “And you’re right.”
Her brows twitched slightly together and a corner of her mouth lifted in a confused smirk. “I am?”
“Aye.” He released the Satedan’s hand. “He does need you. He needs you to be here for him.” They looked at each other for a moment before Teyla glanced away to Ronon’s face. “He’s so good at his lies that I don’t think he knows if they’re lies anymore. He’s shut down inside, like the walking dead. Or at least he was before he was here for a while. You all managed to sing to a bit of him that would still listen. And now he’s stronger. But it’s still there.”
She tossed her bangs out of her eyes as she looked at Carson’s pensively unfocused eyes. “Still there?”
Carson blinked and locked eyes with her. “The pain.”
She lifted her chin in acknowledgement and a small nod before looking back to Ronon’s rising and falling chest. Her voice was pitched with lament. “It is.”
Carson followed her gaze and was quiet for the better space of a minute. “But none of us can help him with it. The ghosts of our pasts must be confronted by each of us in turn. I hate the Wraith for what they’ve done to him, but I cannot change it. Just as you cannot change what happened to him on Sateda.” He looked back to her elegant profile. “And it’s not your fault, Teyla.”
She didn’t look to him. “I know it is not my fault... and yet I still feel some measure of guilt.”
Carson nodded. “It’s a wretched thing – watching those we love suffer.”
Teyla glanced up to the ceiling with a deep, calming breath, chasing away her own demons. “Indeed it is.”
“...Made all the more difficult by damn-stubborn lads who insist that they’re fine, even as they bleed out.” He chuckled a little as he looked to Ronon’s face, earning a small crack of a smile from her. He sobered as he haltingly released Ronon’s hand, Teyla’s cocked head watching the jarring movements of the Scot. “Which is why he needs us. Why he needs you, Teyla.” He looked back up to her. “You’ve always managed to see through his lies and glimpse the shadow that haunts him. I can only treat physical injuries. But through your steadfast friendship and support, I know he’s begun to heal. From what I saw, the poor lad’s been through hell and back in a manner of hours. It must have felt like all of his nightmares were coming true. I can’t imagine the horror... but I know that your strength is a gift to him.” He took her hand in his and laid it upon Ronon’s, squeezing both gently with his. “You heal him in your own quiet way, love, and I admire you so very greatly for that. So I’ll leave you to do what you think is best, and won’t come around again asking you to bugger off.” He smirked and her eyes smiled back.
He rose and paused at the foot of the bed, looking back to her. “You’re a gift to us all, Teyla.”
She couldn’t hold his gaze and glanced away, her cheeks coloring. “You are very kind.”
He smiled. “It’s the truth, love.” He disappeared around the fabric corner, leaving her with her coloring cheeks to dwell over all he had just said.
Where Once Was Gold
Where Once Was Gold Home
I. Prologue: Firefly Light
II. Chilling Fire
IV. A Startled Deer
V. Wilted Bouquet
VI. Farm Boy
VII. Raped of Life
VIII. Honor
IX. Epilogue: Setting a Blackbird Free
