Teyla drew a deep breath and came and stood beside him. “How are you feeling?”
He shrugged. “I still can’t feel my toes. How many times did I get stunned, anyway?”
“Six,” Teyla said matter of factly. She shook her head. “At least we know so much of Rodney remains. He has always been overkill!”
John snorted mirthlessly. “That’s true. I suppose I should just be glad he had a Wraith stunner, not a P90. You wouldn’t be bringing much home if he’d shot me six times with that.” He shook his head, looking out into the night. “I don’t know what happened, Teyla.”
“It all happened very fast,” she said. “I did not have any way to incapacitate Rodney except to shoot him, and if I had tried that I probably would have killed him.” Teyla shook her head. “I could not risk it.”
“You did the right thing,” John said, and she knew he was thinking of Ford, of the time he had not taken the shot when he might have.
Teyla took a step closer, her shoulder against his arm, side by side at the rail. “We will get him back.”
“You know that’s not very likely, don’t you?” John looked at her sideways.
“In that other reality, Rodney spent twenty five years trying to find a way to change the past and save me. Do you think I will give up on him?” He was silent, so she continued, lacing her hands together in the cold. “You looked for a long time before you found me when I was Michael’s prisoner, and you nearly succeeded once before you at last did. We did not know what we were up against this time. We did not know that Rodney would not come with us willingly. We had no reason to expect what happened. Next time we will know.”
“And how are we going to take him down without killing him?”
“Ronon’s stun pistol.” She shook her head. “We will get a zat gun from the SGC. Something else. We will figure it out. But we are not going to give up. We will get Rodney home.” She nudged him with her shoulder. “You may be sure of that.”
John looked away. Whirling snowflakes landed on his dark hair, sticking whole and complete. “Teyla, is there something we need to talk about?”
He sounded so strained, so uncertain. “No,” she said quietly. “There is nothing you need to say. There is nothing you could say to me that your actions have not said a thousand times.”
His eyes closed, and she thought the faintest hint of a smile played around the corner of his mouth. Or perhaps he was laughing at himself, inarticulate always in the face of so much to say. “Ok,” he said. He lifted his arm and she slid under it, warm against his side as the cold wind swirled around them, his chin resting on the top of her head.
Beyond, the snow fell soundlessly into the sea.