The night after Weir's impromtu Welcome to Exile party, he finds Teyla hanging out with the kids. They're all crammed into one of the bigger rooms with Halling and a few of the other adults, although Teyla hangs in the doorway, more a spectator than a participant.
Halling's voice wafts into the hallway. John can't pick out words, but the man's deep voice is soft and engaging. Presumably he isn't telling them about the little accident that led to his temporary dependence on a pair of crutches. Not that John can blame him. He can't imagine telling anyone that the first time he climbed into a helicopter, he caught his foot on the door frame and wound up with a stick in his eye and a mouthful of extremely expensive computer components.
Whatever's going on, he doesn't see any need to interrupt. Stealthily he moves up behind Teyla and touches her lightly on the arm. Disappointingly, she turns around with nary a jump or look of surprise; he obviously wasn't quite as sneaky as he had hoped. Not so disappointingly she's smiling at him, and he finds a grin of his own blossoming onto his face.
Stupid face... mind of its own...
"Major," she says softly, turning her back on the pint-sized assemblage. Glancing over her shoulder John can see that Halling is, in fact, the center of attention, sitting on the bed with Jinto close by, young faces all lifted in his direction with expressions ranging from rapt delight to amused contentment. Teyla notices John's attention shift. "We take turns," she explains, "telling stories. At home it was usually done outside, in open spaces, under the stars, but..." She shrugs with one shoulder.
"Sorry," says John lamely, not quite knowing why.
Teyla's eyes narrow and crinkle in what he's learning signifies gentle bemusement. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, Major. No doubt the children feel safer beneath a roof."
They're not the only ones, John thinks glumly, his mind's eye hosting a continuous loop of images: thousands of those knife-sharp Wraith ships screaming across open space towards Atlantis, filling the skies above the city like a mosquito swarm on steroids, beaming up people as casually as your average American might swing through a McDonalds drive-through.
He blinks hard, driving the pictures away, and thinks instead of sitting around a campfire, a flashlight aimed at his face, scaring the ever-loving crap out of his friends. A thought occurs. "Do they like scary stories?"
Slowly edging away from the open doorway, Teyla looks thoughtful. "Many of our oldest stories are about Wraith attacks," she says gravely. "Many find them frightening. But for the children, we try to end the tales with a message of hope."
Okay, that's doable, as long as he changes the end of the story so that the insane axe murderer gets his comeuppance in the end. He'll have to mention to Halling that he's available for Story Hour sometime.
Teyla looks at him quizzically. "Was... there something I could help you with, Major?"
"It's John," he says automatically. "And yeah, actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about. You know, just bring up... something for you to think about..." Now Teyla's looking at him like he's maybe retarded. Okay, this was more awkward than he thought it would be, and that makes no sense at all. "Dr. Weir told me to put together a team," he says finally. "You know... go through the Stargate, look around, hopefully find some ZPMs, hopefully not find some Wraith... that kind of thing. You know."
Thankfully, she does. Her eyes widen almost imperceptibly and her mouth twitches into a small smile. "Do you want me to accompany you?"
"Yes! That is, I want to invite you," he says more sedately. "And don't feel like you have to. This is completely voluntary. Obviously. It's just that you know more about this area then the rest of us all put together..." And you're bright, you have good instincts, and, okay, you're cute. Is it so wrong to want a cute team? Is it? He watches as Teyla glances behind her, and believes he can guess what she's thinking. A more formal alliance between the Atlantis expedition members and the Althosians can only be a good thing, right? Especially if they're going to be sharing the city for any extended period of time. Teyla's people would see that she's respected by the good folks from Earth, and the good folks from Earth would hopefully take a hint. He knows that Weir doesn't really trust any of them, Teyla included, but that's just too dang bad, isn't it? It's his team, after all.
She looks back at him, thoughtful once more. "If I were to accept your invitation," she says lightly, "what would be expected of me?"
"Well, we'd want you to share with us what you know..."
"Which I would do in any case."
"...and maybe introduce us around the neighborhood..."
"As I said I would."
Is she messing with him? She has that look in her eyes again, like just maybe she's laughing at him inside, and it's driving him a little nuts. Although not in an all-bad way.
"And I assume," she continues lightly, "that I would be expected to follow your command."
"Um. Yeah."
He hopes this won't be a sticking point. He hopes he won't find himself asking Weir to give Teyla the team instead of him. I mean, she's a leader of her people, right? If not the leader? And come to think of it, John, the last time you led a group of people was in a conga line at a buddy's bachelor party, and that didn't even last very long. "It's a... chain of command thing," he adds, which brings to mind Sumner's little snarky comment back on Althosia, which brings to mind other images of Sumner that aren't appropriate for after-dinner contemplation.
Maybe she's a mind-reader too. "I would not have followed your former leader, may the Father keep him. But then, he would not have invited me to." She smiles wryly. "I would be pleased to join your team, Major Sheppard."
"That's... that's great, Teyla."
He doesn't correct her about the name this time. If we're going to manage any kind of chain of command thing, he thought, maybe 'Major' is better.
After all, she is pretty cute.
The End