By Enola Jones

John arrived in the mess hall and frowned deeply as he sat down. "Okay, what's wrong with this picture?"

"Teyla's missing," Ronon said around a mouthful of muffin.

Rodney nodded as he set his coffee mug back down. He swallowed having learned from experience that hot coffee falling onto his shirt when he was trying to make a point hurt -- and said, "We thought we'd take her some food after we ate."

"Good plan." John tucked in and then asked, "You think she's okay? She took a hell of a hit on M6O-818 yesterday."

"Well," Rodney said, finishing his eggs as he d id so. "If she isn't, we'll take her to Carson."

"That magistrate was still apologising when we left," Ronon chuckled.

John shook his head. "Accident or not, she still still took a hell of a hit."

Rodney finished his coffee. "Then let's go see about her."


Rodney carried the tray as the trio headed to Teyla's room. John pressed the buzzer.

The men looked at each other in alarm when there was no answer.

John pressed it again.

Still, there was no answer.

John cast a look at the others, then pressed his palm onto the wall above the panel. Open, he thought at the door.

Instantly, the door opened. John walked in first, confused by the darkness. Light up, he thought at the room.

The lights rose, to reveal Teyla seated on her bed. She was stil lin her sleep-shirt and loose pants. Her hands were balled into fists on her knees.

"Teyla," John said as the three moved into her room.

Her head tilted slightly and her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "John."

"We ah we brought you some breakfast," Rodney said, moving to set the tray on her desk.

"That was....very kind of you, Rodney," Teyla said, a small smile touching her lips.

"So where were you?" Rodney asked.

Ronon interrupted, "What's wrong with you?"

The other men glared at his characteristic bluntness, but Teyla's softly-spoken words snapped their attention back to her.

"I have lost my sight."

"What?" a triple-voiced gasp erupted.

Teyla felt the bed dip and Ronon rumbled in her ear, "Me," just before his hand splayed across her back, supporting her.

She heard John calling for Carson on the radio, then Rodney's voice very close. "Teyla, I'm going to touch you now." She nodded, and felt his surprisingly gentle fingers on her cheeks, tilting her face upward.

"John," Rodney called. "Tell Carson probable concussion her pupils are very uneven!"

The information was relayed, then John reported, "Carson will be here in a minute and a half." She felt the bed drip a second time, and John's soft voice saying, "Does your head hurt?"

"Yes, John," she replied, reaching out. He captured her hand and a larger hand fell on her knee. "Is that Rodney?"

It tightened. "I'm out of Carson's way over here."

And for the first time since she woke up blind, Teyla felt herself smile a true smile.

She would not have to face this alone, as she had feared she might.

When Carson pronounced the blindness temporary, Teyla found herself clearly not alone. One of her Team was always with her even at night during the two agonising, frustrating weeks of darkness.

And theirs were the first faces she saw when the curtains of blackness finally parted.


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