Title: I Rest in the Grace of the World
Author: Bonster (e-mail some feedback)
Rating: M
Pairings: Teyla/Weir
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Warnings/Spoilers: None
Summary: Elizabeth goes to the mainland for some relaxation.
Disclaimer: This is strictly non-profit fan work.
Author's Notes: Written for sg_femslash's Weir mini-ficathon, for lj user, thenewhope, prompt: The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

Elizabeth doesn't make it to the main land often, and when she does, it's usually in an official capacity.

Today it's to relax.

She needs to be away from the endless sea and the rising spires and the hum of technology. Of course, she can't go far. She's the leader, and a leader never ceases to be vigilant and there for her people. However, she has a yearning for quiet, for just a few moments of peace.

It's a small clearing, perhaps only a dozen feet in diameter, at which she's decided to spend her day and night off. There's a gentle, lazy breeze. She looks around at the rustling trees, the sunlight glinting through them. All around her there are leaves and pebbles and rocks in harmonized disarray. It's near the end of summer, so still very warm. She smiles to herself, takes a breath, and begins to place the stakes around the tent.

She hears a twig snap in the forest behind her. She turns, prepares herself for an emergency back in Atlantis, regrets her soon-to-be lost chance at some rest, her regret turning quickly into worry for her people.

She finds Teyla standing there, hint of a smile on her lips. As she meets Elizabeth's eyes, she gives a small nod in greeting. Maybe there's a question there, also.

Relief floods through Elizabeth. Teyla needs a break as much as she does, if not more. And Elizabeth is willing, and, surprising herself a little by the magnitude of the feeling, eager to share both her space and time with the other woman.

She gives a nod of her own and continues setting up her campsite.

The tent is big enough for both of them.

# # # #

That evening, when the fire has died down, they lay side by side. The tent's top flap is open, letting them view the stars. Elizabeth tells Teyla about shooting stars and what they represent on Earth. Teyla tells her what they mean to Athosians. They talk about how similar and yet different people's lives are.

Elizabeth feels a rush of affection, and expresses it by taking Teyla's hand, twining their fingers. Teyla squeezes acknowledgement, whether she feels the same rush, or she's just humoring her, Elizabeth can't say.

Until.

Teyla raises and shifts herself into leaning above Elizabeth, then looks at her, their hands still entwined. She is framed by the stars, and Elizabeth's breath catches. She sees fire and want and waves and stillness. Teyla leans toward her, Elizabeth meets her partway, their lips clasping and breath mingling.

Their hands are now reaching for skin, lifting fabric, making criss-cross patterns. Elizabeth's lips part. She licks at Teyla's lips, then her tongue slips between them with a gentle rolling. Breathing heavy, they stop kissing and touching long enough to squirm from their garments.

Skin to skin, their hands lower. Mouths flow from neck to breast to lips to shoulder. Gasping as the intensity builds to a pitch, the stars seem to brighten to Elizabeth, and she's suddenly pulsing, shuddering as her nerves are all alight.

She feels Teyla still as her own point is reached.

Teyla shifts to Elizabeth's side. They are both smiling, breathing hard, legs and arms askew, but connected at elbow or wrist or thigh. Elizabeth feels both wild and calm, and thinks back to a poem she once read. She drifts into sleep.

The end

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