FIC: Never Bend with the Rainfall (SGA, PG)
1,600 words of femslash! If you're so inclined, thank ![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
thingswithwings, who asked for Teyla/Jennifer recs right here. I promised her a drabble, but somehow, things got away from me.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Title: Never Bend with the Rainfall
Rating: PG
Pairing: Jennifer Keller/Teyla Emmagan
Thanks to: ainsley and stultiloquentia
Spoilers: assumes the events of 4x07 "Missing" without the very last scene
She's not off-world very often, and frankly, after her last two stints, she has reason to believe that's best for everybody involved. Compared to Teyla, she's a bumbling civilian, and what's worse, a squeamish one.
But she is a doctor, swore the oath. When the kids of M76-677 contract a — thankfully non-lethal — Pegasus strain of malaria, her own fears are once again irrelevant, her treatments effective. Her bouts of exhaustion overwhelming.
Just for a few minutes, she thinks; let Vichit, Kerstin, Jian, and Marie take care of the rest of the injections and pills. Jennifer sits down hard at the edge of the clearing south of Keras's hut, eventually rolling over to lie on her back with her eyes closed. Jennifer can hear the sound of running water somewhere in the distance — of course. She's tired enough not to even mind the buzzing insects, some of which undoubtedly caused the damned epidemic in the first place, not to mention the fact that grass is never half as soft or dry as it looks. Someone — sweet little girl, but Jennifer has forgotten her name again; Lara? Lerra? — steps up to her and folds her right around a clay cup of water; what the hell, she's had her prevention tablets. Jennifer lifts up on her elbows, drinks and breathes, does nothing else for a while.
It's actually quite — nice here, now that she has time to take a look at the surroundings. The flowers she's...crushing with her weight are especially beautiful. Jennifer puts the cup down and runs one fingertip over the yellow-and-pink petals: silky, sun-warmed. She feels silly the instant she does it — she's not the type to commune with nature, and smelling the roses is not for her — but it's still peaceful and pleasant, in a way. Teyla would approve. Sure, there's fierce-warrior-queen Teyla who kills a dozen enemies, but there's also the Teyla who meditates and smiles and drinks herbal teas (that, despite Rodney's doubts, do have healing properties, are stimulants or light depressants).
These flowers could be the cure for cancer. They could be toxic. But for now, Jennifer focuses on the fact they're pretty, and should be shared. Teyla must miss the bright colours of nature, holed up in Atlantis after a life in tents and forests. Another glance around shows that no, there are hundreds, if not thousands of these flowers in her line of sight alone; she'll ask the kids if it'll be okay taking a few of them home to Atlantis.
Speaking of. She doesn't really know the Athosian stance on cutting flowers — with her luck regarding Pegasus culture, it means murdering the soul of the plant. Yes, she should have asked, but even though Teyla wouldn't bite her head off — well, probably not; possibly not? — it's somehow worse when she quirks her mouth at her in that You Don't Know Anything, But I Forgive You Because You Try way.
Better play it safe, even when bringing flowers to a friend.
***
Teyla is — actually, Jennifer can't quite gauge Teyla's facial expression when Jennifer shoves the round clay pot at her, the pot with a luscious bunch of flowers planted neatly in its middle. "It's...well, I was off-world, and thought of you; you might have been wondering about something like this. You know, as a gesture —"
"Gesture. Right." Teyla blinks, once, very slowly. " I wouldn't have...expected this." Now she looks at Jennifer, looks right into her eyes, and Jennifer feels a little bit like squirming away and a lot like staying. "It's accepted. I'll —" and now there's definite confusion on Teyla face, and is that a blush? "let you know."
Jennifer has never seen Teyla flee the scene, any scene, but no other phrase comes to mind. It's Jennifer's turn to blink because her eyes don't adjust that fast to the Teyla-shaped hole in the air in front of her. At least she took the gift flowers with her. That's good, right?
***
Good or bad, she doesn't really see much of Teyla the next two days because lab 56 E in the West Tower turns out to be structurally unsound while two botanists are in it; she's busy setting bones and making casts and being secretly relieved that it's nothing more than broken limbs and flesh wounds.
But when she steps out of the shower later that night and wraps herself in the silk bathrobe her mother gave her, there's a knock on her door: Teyla. Jennifer knows because she's the only one to use a rhythmic loud-loud-low-pause-low-loud-loud rhythm to announce her presence. She's also one of the few people who always, always waits for an affirmative response before entering; Rodney had to learn the hard way. Literally. Jennifer threw Aunt Jill's snow globe at him.
Jennifer's never seen her nervous before, but she's pretty sure that's what Teyla is when she steps inside. "I have thought about the flowers-planted-in-soil you brought me."
Okay, that's a majorly weird way to put it, even for Teyla. The gate translator must have substituted the literal meaning of the thing for what's only one single word in Athosian.
"Mostly, I thought about the various meanings of...gestures." Teyla studies the floor, but Jennifer doubts that it's because of her admittedly messy room. "So, instead of answering, as I usually would, I will have to ask first."
"Ask. First." Jennifer is merely parroting, but Teyla takes it as assent.
"Did you mean to court me? Proposition me?"
That — "No! Teyla, really, I only — I only wanted to bring you a gift, just a little something to make you happy and remind you of some planet that, okay, probably means nothing to you, but it's a Pegasus flower from a planet of an early mission you went to, and Atlantis can be kind of...cold and blue and sterile. These flowers were lovely, so alive — well, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding." She knows she's beet-red, but there's nothing she can do right now; at least a quick glance at Teyla shows she's also a bit pink around her cheekbones.
"Right. Of course. That makes sense." Teyla breathes out, much more noisily than usual; no serene smiles anywhere to be seen either. There's a large crease on her forehead, thoughtful — or a little disappointed, maybe? Jennifer doesn't really know why her own heart is beating in a staccato rhythm; they've totally cleared this up, haven't they? And there's nothing left to say but good night.
"Well, then. Thank you for your gift of living flowers; John did tell me this sort of thing is a kind and thoughtful act of friendship."
That should make her feel good about it all, or at least awkwardly pleased, Jennifer knows it, but somehow, she feels everything but. And John's words — "Wait, did he really put it like this?"
A twitch of Teyla's lower lip. "In fact, he said, 'Aw, Teyla, that's...sweet?' and mumbled something about a home of his in Arizona and an elderly neighbour who gave huge potted cacti as gifts."
"That sounds more like the Sheppard we know." It does, but there's something missing — not in Sheppard's story but in the explanation of her own gesture, and she feels she needs to tell Teyla. "I'm not some elderly neighbour, though, so maybe it's not quite the same thing."
When Teyla looks up again, the twitch has grown into an actual if small smile. "Not quite?"
Jennifer's more scared right now than she was on the planet where the Athosians were kidnapped — no, okay; that's a lie, she was afraid for her life then. It's a different kind of fear, this: tied-up in knots but hoping they'll be unravelled. "Maybe I didn't know what I was telling you when I gave you the flowers, but I still —"
"You still meant everything you just told me?" Something a little impish in Teyla's expression.
"Yeah." Hot cheeks be damned, and maybe it's time for some bravery of her own. She may not be field material, but damn if she didn't successfully step through, into the unknown, before. "You said you 'accepted' back then, and just now you said you would first have to ask. What would — what would your answer have been if asking had been unnecessary?"
Jennifer takes a step forward, and oh, God, Teyla does too. Nothing has ever been such a relief, making her feel lighter than air.
"Yes. I'd have said yes, Jennifer."
And it's easy now; there's not much space left between them, and what there is of that is dwindling. Teyla's hands around her wrist and on her forearm are gentle, feather-soft, but Jennifer has seen them grip weapons firmly, strongly, without ever letting go. She shivers a little when she leans in, and it feels natural to rest her forehead against Teyla's, breathe in her scent and take hold of Teyla's other wrist, put her hand on that arm, bare skin burning under her fingers.
"That's...that's wonderful."
And it's nothing but true. Truer when they kiss. Truest when they tumble onto the bed; that Jennifer bangs her shin on the frame, that Teyla ends up accidentally lying on and pulling at Jennifer's hair — ouch, hey! — doesn't change that in the least.
***
"So," Jennifer mumbles later, sleepily facing Teyla, whose lips are still shiny, and whose hair looks so far from coiffed that it's practically on another planet, "what's that true symbolic meaning of Athosian potted flowers, really? I wish to settle down, to grow and be alive, with you?"
Teyla raises that expressive eyebrow of hers, and her mouth quirks...into a delighted smile. "Actually? That's it."
"Really?"
"Well, there is that not so subtle seeding metaphor in addition to what you said."
And well, Jennifer realises not just that there are far more than two sides to Teyla but that she loves the one that giggles best of all.
