Title: Restoration
Summary: The words he knew he should be saying never came.
Characters: Teyla, Sheppard, Rodney and Ronon
Pairing: Sheppard-Teyla
Notes: An unfinished piece that I think does quite nicely as it is, if the first paragraph or so is ignored.
Rating: K+

The return trip to Athos was supposed to be an easy affair. They were supposed to go in, check the ruins of the old city, see if there was anything of particular interest that the gazillion previous science teams had missed before heading back to the comfort of Atlantis.

It was not to be so.

When Teyla had detailed her dream, Rodney had been sceptical. Hell, so had John at first but she was adamant and Elizabeth had sealed the deal with a quirk of her eyebrow and a 'what harm could there be' in checking it out. As previously noted, numerous science teams had gone to the planet and returned safely.

Teyla had warned them that it was the wet season on Athos. The cycle around the Sun leant four whole weeks to constant torrential downpour but she'd assured them that the worst would have passed. When they'd stepped through the 'Gate, thick grey clouds and damp clay like mud greeted them but, as Ronon noted, at least it wasn't raining.

The walk was hard, the thick mud sucking their boots into the ground and John had known then that his thighs were going to be in pain later in the evening when he'd had time to stop and relax. He hated mud. It got everywhere and caused far too many problems. Wet, sticky, soppy mud was even worse. The clouds were so low in the sky that when they reached the brim of a small incline, John was sure he could feel the clouds around him, the thick fog surrounding them more than a little eerie.

When they'd approached the old village, he'd sent a cursory glance in Teyla's direction, noting how she paused for a moment as memories caught up with her. The clean up teams had done a good job of removing the charred remains and if it wasn't for the few small lots of plants dotted around the area weeks before during the Mourning Ceremony, John would have been sure it was just another field.

"Teyla," he'd said as he drew close to her side, wincing as she jumped at his voice, so obviously lost in her memories. "You want to stop for a while? Rest?"

But she'd shaken her head and insisted they press on. He couldn't blame her. John had since returned to the spot in Afghanistan where the chopper had been downed and there was no words to describe the emptiness that enveloped him. He couldn't even begin to imagine how she must be feeling.

They managed a few steps before she stalled again, one knee buckling under her. She waved off his attempts at support and he turned to Ronon who in turned pulled Rodney away to the tree line. He hadn't said anything as he'd watched her, her hand resting lightly on his forearm, her eyes scanning the horizon.

She took a deep breath before turning back to him, the strength resting warily at the corner of her eyes.

"This was my home, once. To see it so destroyed..." She trailed off as she lowered herself to the ground, her fingers skimming the long stems of grass gracefully. She paused for a moment, glancing around. "It still seems like here is the end of all things for my people." She sighed loudly and John could see her purse her lips. She took a moment to touch the blades of grass again before pulling herself up and brushing her hands across her thighs to rid them of the moisture. He caught her eyes for a moment and smiled lightly, the corners of his mouth tilting only slightly. "The city is not much farther from here."

And with that, she'd pulled herself together and they were on their way once more. He'd stolen a glance at her once or twice as they moved to meet up with Rodney and Ronon, but her demure mask was in place once more and the words he knew he should be saying never came.

When she turned to him and smiled, he knew they didn't need to.