Never Let Me Go
Inspired by the movie of the same title.
"Teyla, come on. These tickets were impossible to get, and I'm not going to the performance
alone. You've been too withdrawn lately. The war's over; you need to start living again."
Teyla sighed. She knew that Sora meant well; the Genii Ambassador simply could not grasp that for her,
a quiet evening of meditation was relaxing. Sateda was so much louder than Athos that interacting with
the locals took all of her energy most days; she did not think she would find enjoyment in another
evening of forced fellowship. Unfortunately, Sora had learned early in their acquaintance that they
had both lost their fathers to the Battle of Escra. Ever since, Teyla had been subjected to well-meaning,
if misguided, attempts at female bonding.
With a final glance at the meditation rug, tightly rolled and neatly tucked into the corner (A location
that it had occupied far more than she liked), Teyla allowed herself to be pulled from her rooms and down
the stairs to the waiting transportation. She listened attentively as Sora chattered on about the
performance they were to see, some form of dance. Once they had arrived and taken their seats, she
inspected the informational paper which had been provided at the door and found herself intrigued by the
concept.
Sora's enthusiasm for the performance had not waned while Teyla's attention wandered. As she
refocused upon her companion, she realized that Sora was complaining about the lack of female war dancers.
Familiar with Sora's love of the topic, and the long-winded expositions that resulted, Teyla redirected
the conversation by asking the first question she could think of about the upcoming performance; this
resulted in a detailed explanation of what exactly made the evening's performance so unusual. She learned
that it was the first time in almost five years that the war dancers would be
performing their art. The master artisans had been drafted into field-service during the war; their close-quarters combat
expertise was invaluable both in the field and in training new troops. After the war, the master artisans
had been given the formal title of Living Treasure and kept out of the public eye until a year of
peace proved the war truly done. Living Treasure was a title conferred upon a master in an art deemed
essential to Sateda's cultural identity; there were masters of the dance, masters of metal, masters of
cloth. A performance of several such 'Treasures' in one evening was a rarity, and as such necessarily
a politically charged event. The reception following the show would be both required attendance and
tedious. She could not afford to skip out on the reception, much as she might have liked to; Athos
needed good ties to Sateda too much to risk even accidentally insulting anyone who might hold diplomatic
sway. Athos, unlike the Genii Holding, was looked down on by many of the Allied Pegasus
Forces due to their low technological level, and therefore not considered desirable trade partners.
Teyla settled back into her seat as the performance began, watching the various performers with great
interest. She found her attention drawn repeatedly to one of the dancers, a swordsman. Her eyes skimmed
over his uniform, but she was unable to distinguish a colored ribbon anywhere in his clothing.
She watched as he leapt into a graceful aerial maneuver, and as he twisted his long hair shifted to reveal
a silver ribbon woven into the band that restrained the braids; as she focused on his hair she realized
that each of the rough braids was wrapped with a different color, all of them muted. A Master Artisan, then.
She lost track of time, allowing herself to be drawn into the sequence of the movements, itching for her
own rods to join into the dance; it had been far too long since she had used her rods in anything but
a real battle - years, in fact. She was surprised and disappointed when the performance ended; for a short while she had
managed to forget her troubles.
The reception was exactly as formal as she had feared, and as soon as possible she withdrew to a corner
hoping for a moment of respite. As she edged further from the main groups of people, she bumped into the
dancer she had been admiring earlier. He studied her, sending an assessing glance at those
loudly talking near the bar before he took a step aside and motioned with his hand in a silent invitation
to join him in his corner. He introduced himself as Specialist Ronon Dex, and her casual curiosity was
piqued by the unusual title. Specialist was a military rank, and not particularly prestigious. Far less
impressive than the designation of 'Master Artisan' that the brooch on his left shoulder implied. They
slipped into a quiet conversation, ranging from their roles in the war and the battles they'd
seen to their lack of living relations. He was quiet, and his keen observations and uncensored commentary
were refreshing in an otherwise strictly political environment. As the evening progressed, she realized
that they had more in common than she would have guessed. When she left several hours later, it was
with the promise of dinner the next evening.
Dinner led to dancing of a more peaceful nature. Dancing led to quiet walks by the lake.
Soon they were spending all of their free time together, taking refuge from their busy lives in quiet
conversation. One evening upon their return to her residence, she had invited him in and he caught
sight of her Bantos Rods. After some initial reluctance, she found herself telling him of her father;
her memories of learning the art of the rods at her father's side along with her brother, being taught
the myth and mystery to be found within two simple pieces of wood, and how she wished to pass those
legends on to her own children someday.
After some convincing, she had agreed to share her art with him. She had been a renowned fighter in
her own right on Athos, but had not taken on a student since her father's death. The pain of his loss
had remained raw; between the war and the reconstruction she had been kept too busy to even begin the
formal mourning process. She had taken to avoiding the rods outside of active combat; she didn't have
the energy to deal with the memories. As she handed Ronon the rods for closer inspection, she was
surprised to find that her father's memory was soothing, no longer a source of pain. Soon their evenings
out were replaced by evenings in the courtyard within the diplomatic complex, followed by intimate
dinners in her rooms. He fought hard and learned quickly, unafraid to receive instruction from a woman.
He was soon more than proficient, and their bouts became a time of release rather than simple
instruction.
One evening, as she sparred with Ronon, they were interrupted by John Sheppard, the 'Lantean ambassador.
She and Ronon had been debating the use of unarmed combat components in the dueling arena, and he had
demonstrated a movement which left her on her back with his hand around her throat. Before she could
concede his point, he was gone. She sat up and saw that Ronon had been forced up against the wall
with a knife pressed against one of his primary arteries. Ronon's confusion was evident; she caught his
concerned glance and realized that he was waiting for her approval so that he could dispatch his opponent.
She shook her head negative; once she was standing she recognized Ronon's attacker immediately and realized
what must have happened.
"John, let him go." The 'Lantean turned his head, surprised. She raised the rod in her right hand as
evidence. John still looked wary, which was to be expected - the 'Lanteans were new to the Pegasus
Galaxy, having only arrived during the first year of the war.
"You sure, Teyla? That didn't look real friendly to me."
"John, allow me to introduce Specialist Ronon Dex. I have been tutoring him in the Athosian Bantos Rods;
we were having a...discussion. Nothing more." She dusted herself off as she walked over to join
them. "Ronon, the man about to release you is Ambassador John Sheppard, the 'Lantean representative."
John grudgingly released Ronon and flashed an apologetic smile at her. "My mistake. You didn't tell me
you'd made a new friend. I'll leave you to it. If you need me, just yell." With a final skeptical look at
Ronon, he disappeared into the South building. She felt bad; John had meant well, and had it been any
other man his concern would have been justified. It was not his fault that he'd never seen her
spar before. For a moment she debated following him, but a quick glance at Ronon convinced her to leave
John for later. They had just resumed their sparring when the skies demonstrated their displeasure with
the weapons practice. After a moment's consideration, she led Ronon to the conference room that they had
begun to commandeer when it was too dark to spar properly outdoors. They quickly resumed their work,
slipping into the now familiar rhythms. After a few bouts, he attempted something new and she found
herself again flat on her back. She lay there, attempting to calm her breathing, surprised when he
knelt over her and settled over her waist. She opened her mouth, intending to tell him to get
off, but something in his eyes stopped her.
She saw what would happen a split second before he leaned down over her, and was surprised to realize that
she wanted it. It had been so long since she'd had love, in any form; if she was reading the look in his
eyes, he was giving her an unconditional offer. She allowed her rods to settle on the floor and brought
her hands up to guide his actions. Her eyes slid closed as the contact continued, and she arched up to
resettle his weight lower on her body. She could tell when he became aware of her intent, and felt him
move in response, shifting against her at the same time to allow her more freedom. She let out a
breathless moan as he began to kiss his way down her neck, burying her hands in his hair to encourage him.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, breath hot against her skin.
"I would take you as my mate, if you will have me."
Her breath caught at the implication of his words. She pulled him up to gain access to his mouth, kissing
him deeply before moving to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Before I give my answer, I would know
why you ask."
She watched him close his eyes, visibly gathering his thoughts before he spoke. "You are like nothing
I have ever known; you call to me in ways I never imagined. You are beautiful, you are strong, and
you bear pain well. A master artisan must not forget the dangers of his life. You could survive me,
should the worst come to pass. All of this and more, is why I ask you."
"I have told you before that my people bond for life. Should I survive you, as you say, I will never take
another. If that is acceptable, then I will have you."
His only answer was to claim her mouth again, demonstrating without words the conviction of his
decision. In lieu of a traditional betrothal gift, he presented her with the symbol of his rank -
a silver badge inset with a grouping of precious stones circling a transparent crystal in the center.
It was unique, even among the badges of the Masters; it was an inheritance from his mentor, a sign that
he had been the last student the instructor had taught prior to retiring.
Less than a week later, they were married in a formal Satedan ceremony.
* * *
Two weeks after the wedding, Sateda closed its borders to foreigners. Soon after followed the
proclamation:
All non-native Satedans must leave by the Stargate by mid-day tomorrow. There are to be no
exceptions.
They debated their options late into the night, deciding whether she should apply for Satedan citizenship
or he should return to Athos with her. Finally a decision was reached; they chose to move to Athos, wary
of a new change in policy that might require Teyla to leave Sateda in future if they remained. When they
approached the gate the next morning, the guards seized Ronon. They cited a clause of the new law
forbidding Living Treasures from leaving Satedan soil, but explained that she was still required to
leave; her status as Ronon's wife was irrelevant.
The Satedan soldiers did not even allow them to say their farewells; she was forcibly thrown through the
Stargate, though she managed to injure several soldiers in the process. She heard later that Ronon had been
escorted to the bachelor's garrison attached to the Hall of the Dance, though the knowledge did her little
good. All of her attempts to contact him were met with silence; she had no way of knowing if they even
reached him.
* * *
Teyla did not take the forced separation quietly. First, she attempted the diplomatic route, approaching
the Satedan Ambassador to Athos. She was met with a truly impressive amount of paperwork and
double-talk before learning that the Satedans were withdrawing their diplomats from the other allied worlds
and preparing to seal their borders permanently. In less than three months, any chance of reaching Ronon
would be gone.
She had written Sora to find out if the Genii Holding had been told anything different, and learned
that the situation was even worse than she had feared: rumor was beginning to spread that the Satedans
intended to bury their 'Gate once the diplomatic recalls were complete. Sora could offer no help other
than the depressing news; while she was sympathetic, she had to worry about the Genii position in the
current alliances.
Desperate, Teyla turned to the 'Lanteans; they were rumored to favor lost causes, and her own interactions
with John Sheppard had given her a positive impression of his people. In addition, there was a good
chance that she could barter her diplomatic skills and knowledge of the Pegasus Galaxy to the newcomers
who desperately needed the help. As she was preparing to depart for Atlantis, she was visited by the
Athosian Minister of the Interior. Neela Macarrin had been a childhood friend; they had only lost contact
when the Wraith had thrown their world into chaos. Teyla was pleased to see her old friend, but there was
something in Neela's eyes that set her on edge.
She exchanged a formal greeting with Neela before speaking. "It is good to see you again, old friend.
What brings you to my home?"
"I have heard of your marriage, and the resulting problems."
She allowed hope a brief moment, but kept the elation from her face; she knew such favors never came
cheaply. "Do you know of a way to help my case?"
"No, Teyla. I have come to advise you to stop this foolish pursuit. You knew this man what? Two
months? Three at the most. It has been nearly that long since you returned to Athos. Forget him,
move on with your life. There is more at stake here than just a whirlwind romance; you should understand
that."
She stared at her childhood friend in shock. She had expected an exchange of favors, perhaps, not
to be instructed to forget her husband. "Understand what, exactly? That he is my husband? That
we took vows of loyalty invoking the name of the ancestors? I do not take commitment lightly, Neela;
I mean to honor them."
Her friend shook her head sadly, and Teyla felt something unpleasant settle in her stomach. "Then
there is nothing I can do for you. I have been ordered by the ministry to inform you that if you leave
this world, you will not be welcomed back. Athos cannot afford to risk upsetting her allies, even one
so inward-facing as Sateda. If you continue down this path, you do so alone. We will not help you, and
you may not return."
Teyla took a deep breath, marshaling her thoughts carefully. "Then it would appear that we have nothing
more to discuss. It seems my own people have grown heartless while I was away. I expected more of them."
"No, Teyla, we are not heartless. However, we must be practical. We cannot gamble with the welfare of
our people for the sake of a few off-world spouses. If you will not be dissuaded, then this must be
farewell."
They stared at each other for a long moment, Neela finally breaking the stand-off. Teyla watched her
tentatively reach out and allowed herself to be pulled into the traditional act of farewell. When they
pulled back, Teyla could see tears in her friend's eyes, but she moved to the door without pausing.
Teyla stood still, silently watching her last tie to Athos disappear into the hallway and out of her
life.
She departed the next morning, a single bag of personal items and clothing slung over her shoulder and
her father's Bantos Rods in her hand. There was no fanfare; no one came to see her off. If she hadn't
known better, it could have been just another diplomatic mission - three months on a vaguely familiar
world convincing the population that Athos would make a good trade partner, then home for three months
of paper-pushing. Only this time there would be no return. She found that the thought didn't scare
her as it once had.
* * *
"Welcome, Teyla Emmagen."
The leader of the 'Lantean people, Dr. Elizabeth Weir, met her upon her arrival in the City of the Ancients.
She was led to a gathering room where she was introduced to a number of men in the 'Lantean uniform - a Dr.
Rodney McKay, a Major Lorne, a Sergeant Miller, and John. She was startled to learn that her friend was
not only a colonel, but head of the 'Lantean Military; he'd given no indication during their three months
of acquaintance that he was anything more than a common soldier in the war. It seemed that his rank had
worked in her favor; she quickly learned that he had argued passionately on her behalf and a course of
action had already been tentatively organized. She was amazed at the offer. All she had expected was
asylum in exchange for her knowledge; this was more than she could have imagined. After several hours
of planning, it was agreed that a small strike force would depart in the morning to retrieve her husband.
When the meeting ended, she was left in a daze; things which had been frozen for so long were now falling
into place alarmingly fast. She allowed John to lead her from the meeting room and into what he called
the 'Jumper Bay'; it was filled with the 'Lantean battle ships that she had seen during the
major battles of the war. She had never seen them from this close, and found herself wondering at the
technical specifications - it was said that only the 'Lanteans could fly them. She was pulled from her
appraisal when John tapped her shoulder to regain her attention.
"We call them Puddle Jumpers." He patted the side of one affectionately and a hatch in the back opened.
"They're good little ships."
She nodded slowly. "I have seen them in battle, but always at a distance. Am I to assume that you are
taking me from the city?"
"Since we're not leaving until the morning, I thought you might like to spend the night among your own
people." She felt her eyebrows creep up of their own accord, but before she could explain that she had been
cast out by her homeworld he was speaking again. "There is a settlement on the mainland, about 30 minutes
out; it started off as temporary housing for refugees and rescued prisoners of war, but some of the
homeworlds haven't wanted to allow people to return so the encampment has become permanent. There are
over three hundred Athosians there now; their leader is a man they call Halling. You know him?"
She blinked, stunned. "Halling? I know the name, but I never knew him personally. He was a good friend
of my brother's when we were children. I did not know that he had survived the war."
John shrugged. "I try to stay out of politics when I can, my role as Acting Ambassador to Sateda
not-withstanding, but even I knew about this. Athos, Sateda, and the Genii Holding refused to
acknowledge the prisoners that we rescued after the Battle of Proculus - they claimed that there was no
way to verify that the prisoners were still human, but that was bullshit. Elizabeth can tell you more,
if you want."
She shook her head, easing back into her seat and staring out the front of the 'Jumper' as they flew out
of the roof and over the sea. "I have been learning of late that my people are not who I thought they
were; they have cast me out, it is no surprise they have done so to others. What is surprising is that
those of us in the diplomatic corps heard nothing; I would have thought some smoke would come from a fire
this large."
John seemed absorbed in his flying, and she took that to be the end of the discussion. It was only once
they had landed that he spoke again. "From what I heard, the whole mess got buried as soon as the refusals
were made official. The refugees settled in and started new lives, and we've all tried to put it behind
us. They're good people." With that, he stood and headed to the rear hatch. She followed, and a few
moments later she was surrounded by long lost friends, people she had believed dead for years. She was
glad to see so many of her people alive and well, glad for the taste of Athos they would allow her in the
future. The many greetings and requests for news made the evening long, but pleasant; through it all she
felt the pain of Ronon's loss all the more. When she was finally able to retreat to the tent they had
offered her for the night, she struggled to put concerns about the coming reunion from her mind. Would he
still love her as she did him? Had he given up hope? Only the morning would tell.
* * *
She woke filled with a nervous energy. John arrived an hour after dawn to return her to the city where
they joined the rest of the strike force. Time seemed to slow then; it seemed like days instead of mere
hours as they made ready to depart. It had been over a year since she had been part of a combat team, but
the sensations had not changed. There was adrenaline and sweat and just a hint of terror lurking in the
back of her mind; what if he was already dead? What if he would not leave, thinking she had abandoned
him? So many questions, and only one way to answer them.
After all of the planning and preparation, the rescue itself was anti-climactic. They arrived on Sateda
in one of the Jumpers, shielded from view. They landed outside of the capital city, and it was twenty
minutes by foot to the Hall of the Dance. They encountered minimal resistance, and soon John had entered
the housing wing. She waited anxiously as the moments slipped by, the silence on the radio
nerve-wracking. When John's voice came through the radio, a terse "I've got him, but we've got
company!" she was almost weak with relief.
A moment later the two men emerged at a run, the sounds of their pursuers audible even though the heavy
metal door of the stairwell. They took off for the Jumper at a run, conversation all but impossible.
They made it to the Jumper ahead of the Satedan guards, but it was a near thing. Once the Jumper was
in the air she felt her composure dissolve; before she knew it she was in his arms, sobbing
against his chest. She felt his grip tighten around her, felt the tremors that he was obviously
attempting to hide with the motion. She took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of sweat and
leather that she had missed these long months, feeling him stroke her hair in calming movements even
though his own breathing was unsteady beneath her cheek. His whispered "I thought I had lost you"
removed what small measure of control she had managed to salvage; no matter how hard she tried, she
could not calm her breathing or her mind. When the burning in her eyes finally eased and she was able
to take command of her actions, she braced her hand against his shoulder to gain enough height to look
into his eyes. The wild look that had been present during the mad race to the Jumper had eased, and all
that remained was a tenderness that eased the last of her fears. Peering about from her current location,
she realized gratefully that the 'Lanteans were carefully keeping their eyes on the world outside the
Jumper to allow them a shred of privacy.
By the time they arrived in Atlantis, she felt ready to face people again. She gripped his hand tightly
as she stood and led him out of the Jumper, surprised to find Dr. Weir there to meet them.
"Dr. Weir, I would like to present my husband Ronon Dex."
Ronon cast her a curious glance, but nodded politely. She had explained their situation in the Jumper
once she'd been capable of coherent speech, and he had eased her fears with a simple 'Whatever you think
is best. I can't go back, but I knew that when I came with Sheppard. I won't give you up for anything.'
She knew that Sateda would execute him on sight for having fled the isolation,
merely as an example to others considering defection before the 'Gate came down. "Dr. Weir, we wish to
formally request asylum in the City of Atlantis."
Dr. Weir spoke slowly, giving the words the gravity they deserved. "Teyla Emmagen, Ronon Dex, it is my
pleasure to grant you asylum on the world of Lantea. Welcome home."
~ Finis ~
The Allied Pegasus Forces
The proper title for the alliance of worlds formed during the Second Great Galactic War. Some of
the members of this alliance included:
- Athos - The Athosians
- The Free Peoples of Atlantis - The 'Lanteans
- The Genii Holding - The Genii
- Sateda - The Satedans
This list is not exhaustive. Many worlds lost fighters to the cause, but these were the main powers.
An excerpt from the informational pamphlets distributed at performances at the Hall of the Dance in the
capital city of Sateda.
A History of Satedan War Dancing
The Satedan War Dance, sometimes referred to as Martial Performance, is one of
the most ancient performance arts known in the Pegasus Galaxy. The War Dance is performed exclusively
by men; legend tells us that before the arrival of the Wraith, women were allowed to study the art.
No written records exist from that time, so it is impossible to confirm or deny these claims. However,
there have been no female War Dancers in living memory. Those who wish to become practitioners of the art
enter into training at a young age, often separating permanently from their families upon gaining a formal
apprenticeship. Students apprentice in one of the five principal disciplines: The Sword, The Staves, The
Rope, The Pistol, and The Skin. A dancer's chosen discipline is indicated by the color of their clothing
until they reach mastery, at which point they have the option of dressing in unaffiliated colors with a
decorative ribbon or embroidered pattern signifying their chosen discipline. If a trainee achieves mastery
prior to reaching the age of maturity, they are allowed to begin training in a second art.
Master Artisans
Only a few in every generation are honored with the title Master Artisan. The title is granted
to those who have achieved mastery in all five of the primary disciplines of the War Dance. They are
given the option of displaying their acquired spectrum of ribbons or a single silver ribbon.
Display
Colored ribbons or uniforms are used for denoting disciplines during the active dance, and a similar
tradition is used when out of uniform: a circular pin with a jewel that corresponds in color to the
ribbons earned by the dancer is worn on the left shoulder.
The color associations are as follows:- Forest Green - The Sword
- Blue - The Staves
- Yellow - The Rope
- Black - The Pistol
- Blood Red - The Skin
For those with mastery in more than one discipline, the first discipline studied is displayed furthest
to the left, the place of honor.
Master Artisans have the option of either a pin comprised of the full spectrum (beginning on the left
with the first discipline studied) or a single clear stone.
The Second Great Galactic War
A six year conflict between the Wraith Axis and the Allied Pegasus Forces that
spanned the whole of the Pegasus Galaxy. The First Great Galactic War is more legend than fact, having
occurred some 10,000 years ago.
| Leave Feedback |
| The Fic Page | The Home Page |
The Reel_SGA Project |