By Enola Jones

Teyla was so disappointed in herself that it was bitter in her throat.

She excelled in many things, but this? This had always been beyond her.

She may be able to lead her people. She may be able to fight a Wraith to his knees. She may be able to negotiate a trade agreement with even the most tightly-fisted society.

But she was not able to feed her family.

Oh, they tried to ease her pain. "Not everyone can do everything, Teyla," John would tell her.

"I'm terrible at negotiations," Ronon would attempt to soothe.

Rodney would shrug and be his usual matter-of-fact self. "So you're not genetically inclined to be a chef. So what? You're you and we like you the way you are."

She had seized on his words and went to Carson, who had smiled indulgently and she could see that he'd visibly restrained himself from patting her hand. "Lass, there are some traits even genetic therapy can not fix."

Her meditations that night had been a waste of time, ending in fruitless tears of frustration that, mercifully, no one saw.

She tried to explain that, leader and warrior though she was, she was still a woman and her lack of female skills made her feel like she was somehow less.

But they didn't understand. She could tell.

They would never understand.

And yet, she stubbournly kept trying. Tuttle root soup would come out tuttle root slop. Minyara cakes would come out minyara throwing discs. Even the most basic of dishes, trindala broth, would come out smelling like ovros urine.

The most she could ever successfully accomplish was bringing water to bubble. And even that was hit and miss.

She supposed that was why she had gone so readily to Kanaan. Why she had succumbed to his charm and his strength.

She had wanted to feel like a complete woman instead of 'one of the boys' with a different figure.

And now, with Torren, things were different. He didn't care that she couldn't make the simplest of dishes. She was his mother and he loved her wholeheartedly.

And with that love underpinning her, she found herself finally able to release the disappointment and let the three men that filled her heart care for her as they had tried to all along and her feelings of personal failure had not let her see.

She may not be able to feed her family.

But Ancestors be hanged if Rodney and Ronon weren't excellent cooks, and John could put together a full meal from bartered pre-prepared goods!


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