I'm on another romance writing kick. Beware. Bewaaaaare!
He always brought her flowers, where he got them from, Teyla didn't know.
What she did know was that whenever she came to in the infirmary, there were flowers waiting on the table by her head.
Sometimes they were made up of a bunch, other times there were only a few, and still other times, when the climate was unkind to growing things, there was only one, slightly wilted around the edges.
It was those that made her love him all the more. Those that were beautiful despite their flaws and imperfections.
She never saw John deliver them, he always managed to sneak them in when she was still so deeply asleep that she was dead to the world, but she knew it was him. After all, he was always the first to come visit her when she regained consciousness and each time he was there, her heart grew warmer at the sight of him.
The first time he'd come to her, she had smiled at him, thanked him for being there and then returned to sleep.
The next time, she had spoken with him a bit more, and the time after that even more.
Again and again they talk at length, grower ever closer each time, and eventually they grow to be more than friends, comrades and teammates.
All because he is the first to visit, and he because he brings her flowers.
What she doesn't know, nor will she ever, because no one will ever tell her, is that he's not the first to visit, and he's not the one who brings the flowers.
John Sheppard is a fine military man, but he doesn't spend the hours needed to care for a small pot of flowers on one of Atlantis' many balconies.
He is a brave, selfless and intelligent man, but he isn't the one who sneaks into the infirmary and lays the blooms near her head, brushes the hair from her eyes and then slips quietly away, leaving no one the wiser.
Rodney peeks his head into the room and watches as Teyla lays one hand on that of Colonel Sheppard while the other clutches the frail tea rose he spent so long a time on keeping healthy.
He watches as she smiles that radiant smile at Sheppard, the one that should have been meant for him if he were brave enough to be the first to visit her...
He looks on and he knows...
He is forever doomed to be Cyrano.
A/N: One of my favorite stories of all time is that of Cyrano de Bergerac (it's an excellent opera as well, if you have an ear for French or Italian, depending on the version...oh don't look so shocked that I like opera), and if you're unfamiliar with the tale, I suggest you go look it up. If you're too lazy for that, go rent the Steve Martin movie 'Roxanne', which is a loose, modern adaptation of the story.
Cyrano, you see, is a strong willed, talented, witty but physically unattractive man with a penchant for poetry. Christian, a friend of his, falls madly in love with the beautiful Roxane, but can't win her without being able to impress her with his verbal prowess. Cyrano's friend enlists his help, and soon Cyrano is feeding Christian lines in the hope that Roxane will fall in love with him. She does, but doesn't know that the man whose words she's fallen in love with is Cyrano.
It really is a wonderful story...
Ahem. Anyways. Yes. That was the inspiration for this bit of unrequited love. I rather like it. Hope you did too.
Written in response to the one hundred first sentences challenge over on the When Plot Bunnies Attack forum 'He always brought her flowers'.