Genre: Team!fic (minus Rodney)
Spoilers: 5.08 The Queen
Posted to: atlantisfic, sga_episodefic
Summary: John drops in on a sparring session and Teyla reveals some lingering issues from being The Queen.
John could hear the ... energy... of the sparring currently going on in the gym from more than thirty feet away. The dull thuds of fists striking flesh, the low grunts of effort as the fighters strained to take each other down. It sounded like more than just a regular training session.
This sounded more like a grudge match.
He reached the door of the gym just in time to see Ronon spring across the mat and grab Teyla's throat in one huge hand before lifting her off her feet and slamming her back-first into the mat. Her eyes bugged a little as her breath left her in a whoosh of air; one hand grabbed Ronon's wrist as the other gave a weak jab at his jaw. Ronon just drew back his arm and prepared to deliver the finishing punch.
John's sidearm was in his hand before he realised he'd drawn it, already too late to interfere. "Ronon! Stop!" His head was flooded with déjà-vu - this was almost an instant replay of Ronon's first session with Teyla years ago.
Ronon shrugged and stood up, hands loose at his sides. He eyed John's gun with amusement.
Teyla did not.
"John. Why did you interfere?" Her eyes snapped with fire as she leapt to her feet. He noticed she was almost as slim as before Torrin.
"I..." He put the gun away sheepishly. "I didn't know what was going on and I figured it would be better to ask first rather than find out Ronon had been taken over by some funky Pegasus mind-altering virus or something."
Her face softened momentarily, then hardened as a new irritation entered her eyes. "So, you felt I would be unable to defend myself, now?"
"Uh..." John hadn't spend a lot of time on regular old dry land back home, but he was pretty sure this was what quicksand felt like.
"Ha. You can't." Ronon interjected. Teyla whirled on him too, but faltered under his unblinking stare.
"Indeed I can not." She turned back to John. "And that is why I must continue training. Immediately."
"Maybe you should take it a little easy."
"Really. Should I?" Teyla shook her hair back from her face and stalked to her bag, pulling out her sticks and tossing one to Ronon. Ronon grinned at her as he plucked it out of the air.
"Maybe." The quicksand was getting deeper, but John forged ahead regardless. "You're certainly fit enough to be back in the field, or I wouldn't have greenlighted you coming back to the team. But you aren't back to your peak form yet."
"Perhaps you think I am unaware of this?" Teyla's fingers were white on her stick. "When I was on that Wraith ship, their leader took me with a single strike! One! Perhaps this is within the standards for field work, but it is utterly unacceptable for me." She advanced on John step by step.
Ronon watched with a commiserating smirk. John shot him a desperate look before putting up his hands in surrender. "Ok! Ok. I hear you. You want to get back to top form. Now, even. But are you sure..."
Ronon was shaking his head, grin widening.
Teyla interrupted him. "I am sure. Very. Sure."
John heaved a breath, then shrugged. "All right," he said. "Hand me a stick. Let's go."
"What?" All the fury drained out of Teyla's eyes, replaced by confusion. Ronon was already striding to the wall, picking up another stick.
"Well, if you want to get back to top form, you'll need more than just one opponent." John caught the stick Ronon threw him, rotating his wrist to loosen it up. "Don't expect us to go easy on you."
Teyla's smile was blinding. "I do not."
"Good." With a quick glance to co-ordinate with Ronon, John attacked.