Soothing Hands
By: Helen Adams
A/N: A
short friendship piece between Rodney and Teyla. Takes place somewhere in Season 2. Contains one tiny episode
reference to “Trinity”.
She could see it in every move he made, in the tightening of fine lines at the corners of his eyes and the bunching of muscles in his jaw, the careful way he held himself as he leaned over his work station computer deciphering lines of Ancient code. He was in pain.
She could tell that it was bad by the simple fact that Rodney gave no voice to it, did not whine or complain, did not even bite the head off Dr. Mobray after the woman was so distracted by conversation with someone across the lab that she tripped over her own feet and nearly dropped a tray of chemical samples. He merely scowled and told Mobray to be more careful. Teyla frowned in sympathy. Such a display of clumsiness with delicate equipment would normally have had Rodney springing from his chair and flailing the other scientist with a tongue lashing they would never forget. He took his position as department head very seriously, and if he was too distracted by his own misery to administer a well-deserved scolding, then the discomfort must be intense.
“Good evening, Rodney,” she greeted, leaving her place in the shadows by the door and entering the room more fully.
He glanced up, surprise flickering in his eyes at her rare appearance in his domain. “Teyla, what brings you down here?”
“I ran into Dr. Zelenka in the control room and mentioned to him that I had not seen you. He informed me that you have not left this station all day.” Deliberately keeping her tone light, she added, “I have come to stage a rescue.”
An instinctive responsive smile twitched his lips even as Rodney made a vague gesture at his active terminal and a pile of hand-written notes he had left beside it. “I have a lot to catch up on. In fact, I should probably finish before -“
“Your work will still be here tomorrow,” she interrupted, tapping the buttons that would save his data and log him out of the computer.
He was clearly startled that she knew how to do it so easily, but made no protest as she tugged him to his feet and urged him forward with gentle pressure between his shoulder blades.
She could feel the tension in the muscles beneath her palm as well as detect the slight limp to Rodney’s walk as he obediently, if somewhat confusedly, allowed himself to be led away from the lab. “You must eat and take time to relax.” Heading off the next protest that she could already see forming, she added, “In fact, I am quite certain that your productivity will improve if you take a break.”
“I guess it has been awhile since lunch,” he agreed, absently rubbing a hand across his stomach when it gave an audible grumble of agreement. “Not sure about relaxing, though.”
“And why is that?”
He grimaced. “I don’t really feel so hot today. Back’s bothering me.”
Teyla smiled, realizing that she should not have been surprised by the quick admission of discomfort. When it came to his physical well being, Rodney was not one to keep secrets for long. “It has been bothering you a great deal of late.”
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
He shrugged slightly. “I had a herniated disc a few years ago and ever since
then it acts up from time to time. I never know when or why.
Privately, Teyla agreed that this was likely. Sometimes Rodney walked with his shoulders hunched so far forward that it made her own back hurt just to look at him. Not wanting to pick a fight however, she simply asked, “Has Carson done anything to combat the discomfort?”
“I have a prescription mattress and I’ve been doing those exercises he prescribed, but lately nothing seems to help. I could take pain killers but the good ones muddle my thinking, so what’s the point?”
He heaved a much maligned sigh and Teyla patted his shoulder. She considered the problem as they walked. “I know of something that might help,” she said finally, hesitant to offer. Earth people seemed to have so many peculiar customs and taboos when it came to their bodies. “Among my people, it is a common and much respected practice to treat such physical ailments using hands-on manipulation of the affected areas.”
For a moment, he looked confused, and then his eyebrows rose in a curious peak. “Are you talking about massage therapy?”
Relieved, realizing that if they had such a term then it must be acceptable to them, she nodded. “Yes, it is a much prized skill among the Athosians. We believe that there is physical and spiritual benefit for both giver and receiver.”
Rodney looked dubious, to say the least. “So, you think I should take a Jumper over to the mainland tomorrow and ask if one of your people would be willing to give me a massage?”
A vivid image of the brusque and twitchy Dr. McKay making such a request, loudly, to the general populace of New Athos flickered into Teyla’s thoughts and she laughed before she could stop herself. “While that might be an interesting social experiment, I was thinking more of offering to do it myself.”
“You?” The word came out as a squeak, his expression so stunned that she laughed again.
“I assure you, I am quite skilled.” Thinking that it would be best to assure him, she added, “No harm will come to you.”
He straightened, attempting to appear nonchalant, but the effect was ruined by a gasp and a softly whined, “Ouch.”
“Come. We will partake in a light meal and then we will return to your quarters and begin.”
Rodney looked as if he would like to bolt if only his sore back would let him, but then a muscle spasm made his entire body twitch and he sighed in resignation. “Fine.” They walked in silence toward the mess hall and Teyla smiled when she heard a softly muttered, “Thanks.”
Fortunately for the sake of her nervous friend, no one came to join them for dinner. Teyla was certain that Rodney would have manufactured an excuse why he needed to be elsewhere if anyone had. As it was, he picked at his meal in a distracted manner; gulping down the water she had insisted he take in place of his usual coffee as fast as humanly possible, with a grimace that suggested that the glass contained something noxious.
Teyla herself ate calmly, with delicate but rhythmic forkfuls. “I am very impressed with the fruit imported from your home world. I had no idea there would be such a wide variety.”
“Mm,” he grunted, popping a ripe cherry into his mouth. “With the exception of strawberries, and citrus of course, I like most of it, too. I never really appreciated fresh fruit until I came to Atlantis and had nothing but the goopy, fake-sweetened, tinned stuff for a year.”
He reached across the table, intending to sneak a temptingly plump grape from the edge of Teyla’s plate, and suddenly hissed and gripped the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grasp, eyes squeezing shut with a sudden shock of pain.
“Rodney!” she said in alarm, grasping his wrist. “Should I call for medical assistance?” Her free hand was already reaching to activate her radio.
“No,” he grated, stopping her. Pulling in a shaky breath, he held it a moment and then slowly exhaled as the spasm eased. “I’m okay….it’s… I’m okay.”
Noting that he did not sound too sure, Teyla asked, “This has been happening often?”
“Often enough.” He puffed a small disgruntled sigh.
“I haven’t slept more than a few hours all week. I went to see
Reasonably, she asked, “Have you told him you are not reacting well to the medication? Perhaps Dr. Beckett can prescribe something else.”
Rodney made a woeful face. “I’m allergic to half the stuff in the dispensary and the other half mostly knocks me on my ass. I can’t work if I’m taking it.”
“And you must work,” she stated, the comment giving her an insight into the problem.
Things had been difficult and stressful for all the citizens of Atlantis lately, but Rodney McKay seemed to feel a great obligation to discover the solution to every problem they encountered. He groused and complained and ordered everyone around liked a petulant dictator on most days, but Teyla suspected that Rodney felt personally responsible for every failure, every injury, and sadly, every death his people experienced. After the failed Arcturus project earlier this year, it was as if he was certain that his much vaunted intelligence would be called into question at every turn, and his worth be lessened in the eyes of those he cared about if he dared to make a mistake or failed to push himself to the very edges of his endurance each day.
In trying to do right by everyone else, to make up for his own perceived wrongs, Rodney was causing himself great injury. It was, at the same time, very admirable and very foolish.
Understanding better now why he had accepted her offer of an alternative treatment for his pain, even when he was clearly doubtful that it would work, Teyla decided, “If you are through eating, I believe it would be best to begin your treatment. However, if the pain persists as we progress, I will insist that you pay another visit to Dr. Beckett.”
Rodney simply nodded, the lack of argument causing Teyla to give his hand a sympathetic squeeze.
~*~*~*~*~
“Candles? Um, no I don’t have anything like that. What do you need candles for?”
When she had suggested conducting this ritual in Rodney’s quarters, Teyla had been thinking only of his comfort. It had not occurred to her that the appointments common to any Athosian dwelling would be absent here. Familiar surroundings tended to relax a person, but this did not seem a particularly welcoming place. There were documents hanging upon the wall, a couple of pictures on the tables, one of Rodney holding a certificate and another of an animal that she supposed must be the cat he occasionally spoke of. Scientific odds and ends cluttered the surfaces and a few items of clothing littered the floor. Other than that, there was nothing to suggest that anyone called these quarters home.
“The sight and scent of burning candles are soothing,” she explained. “They help one concentrate on letting go the stresses of daily life.”
Rodney snorted but tried to cover the sound with a small cough. She appreciated the effort, knowing that for a man so devoted to science, the notion of using aromatherapy and a meditative setting to assist in the lessening of pain must seem absurd.
“One of the female marines might have some,” he guessed, “Or maybe one of
“They are quite common among my people, both male and female, as they are with any people for whom artificial lighting is not the norm.”
Rodney looked startled by her wry tone. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Candlelight used to be the way to go for us too, a couple of centuries ago, but nowadays most candles are made to smell like flowers and stuff, so guys don’t usually buy them.”
“I see,” she replied, and she did. It was a constant source of amusement to her that the people here were as gender-conscious as they were, even as they congratulated themselves on their inclusive and unisexual practices. “It is of no concern. There are many candles in my quarters, as well as a bottle of soothing oil and a couple of other items I will need. I will gather them and return. May I ask whether you own pajamas?”
His brow furrowed. “Pajamas?”
“Or some other type of loose-fitting garment,” she said, looking him over and noting his tense posture and the almost shield-like quality of his long sleeved, high collared science department uniform. “It will help you to relax if you take a hot shower before we begin, then change into unrestrictive clothing. I will require access to the affected area and I wish for you to be comfortable.”
When some of the tension left Rodney’s shoulders and he let go a breath of what could only be relief, Teyla had to steel herself not to laugh. She suspected he had been worried that she would expect him to receive this treatment in the nude. Such a thing was not uncommon and certainly easier for the one providing the massage, but given Rodney’s status as a friend, a teammate and an overly modest Earth male, she had never even considered it.
“I have some medical scrubs I swiped the last time I was confined to voodoo-land,” he offered, smiling a little.
Teyla smiled back. “That will do perfectly.”
Fifteen minutes later, Teyla had gathered everything she would require from her quarters and returned. The sound of running water had stopped and she could vaguely hear Rodney muttering to himself behind the closed bathroom door. Knowing her preparation time was short she began laying everything out with practiced efficiency.
First, she dimmed the lights and removed a small amount of clutter from the tabletops before setting large beeswax candles to burning on either side of Rodney’s bed. Then, straightening the blankets into smoothness, she draped a long soft cloth over the surface to catch any stray droplets of oil that might fall. Testing the firmness of the mattress and finding that it had very little give, she nodded and removed the pillows to leave herself a flat surface to work on.
The sound of a door opening made her look up. She smiled to see Rodney hovering half-in and half-out of the bathroom, dressed only in loose fitting blue drawstring pants that she would have recognized as Infirmary issue even without Rodney’s admission of ‘theft’.
Holding out a hand, she told him, “Everything is prepared. Are you ready?”
Rodney did not look very happy to be standing before her shirtless, self-consciously crossing and then uncrossing his arms as if unsure what to do with them. “I guess. Just . . . no cracks about needing to get into better shape, okay?”
Teyla had seen how often Sheppard and Ronon teased Rodney about being overly well-fed, but she had never felt him to be particularly out of condition. He did not have the form of a warrior, true, but he was far from corpulent. On the contrary, his broad shoulders, strong chest and well muscled arms were very attractive, and if his solid midsection was a tad more comfortably padded than the Colonel’s or Ronon’s, it still did not mean that he was fat. Sincerely, she promised, “I would not dream of it.”
Satisfied, he ventured across the carpeted floor and stopped to gaze with a puzzled expression at a narrow, padded, bench-like seat that had taken up residence near the foot of his bed. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“I will show you.” Teyla straddled one end and gestured for him to do the same, facing her.
Moving stiffly, Rodney copied her pose, allowing his thighs to drop until his knees angled towards the floor. “Okay.”
Teyla held her arms in front of her and clasped hers hands around her arms in demonstration, then extended both hands toward Rodney, palms facing up. He fumbled a bit but soon had each hand clasped around a slender wrist.
“Good. Now, keeping your back straight, I want you to lean back as far as you can. Allow the muscles to slowly stretch. Trust that I will not allow you to fall.” She considered it a compliment that Rodney did not question her ability to bear his weight. He was hesitant in his movements but she recognized that this was due to his unwillingness to aggravate sore muscles rather than any doubt in her. She let him hold the stretch for several seconds then slowly pulled him upright. “Lean forward slightly and extend your arms. Allow them to bear my weight and stretch your upper back and shoulders.”
Again, he obeyed without comment but the furrowed brow and tightly pressed lips gave away how much effort and concentration he was putting into each movement. Absently, Teyla wondered if Rodney might not enjoy the class in Tor’a, what most of the class referred to as ‘yoga’, that she conducted twice weekly. He was proving to be a good student.
After a few more stretches back and forth, Teyla allowed them to straighten once more. “I want you to look into my eyes and match the rhythm of my breath. In through your nose,” she paused a beat, “and out through your mouth. Allow the tension to flow from your body with each exhalation. In . . . and out.”
Rodney did his best to comply, but winced and gritted his teeth on each indrawn breath, becoming tenser by the moment. “I’m not so sure this going to work,” he said.
“You should not try so hard,” she advised. “Do not strain the muscles of your back attempting to take in as much air as possible. Breathe shallowly if that is easier, but slowly.”
Within seconds, Teyla knew this particular technique was not helping. The more he concentrated on trying to draw small breaths, the more his brain told him he was not taking in enough oxygen, and the harder he fought against it. Between the pain and the instinctive panic, he was in danger of hyperventilating.
“You are doing well,” she breathed, not letting him know through voice or action that she was being less than truthful. “You may breathe normally again.”
Relieved, Rodney sucked in a huge gulp of air, gritting his teeth as the sudden force jarred his sore body. “I’m not feeling very relaxed so far,” he grated, wiping his palms on his pant legs as Teyla released her hold.
Widening her legs a bit, Teyla scooted forward until their knees were touching and their faces were only inches apart. Rodney’s blue eyes went round with nervous surprise and Teyla realized immediately that what she wanted to do must not be a conventional technique where he was from. She decided to proceed anyway, trusting in his ability to adapt.
Smiling a sweetly reassuring smile, she glided her hands over his shoulders and down his arms, tugging him towards her. “Lean into me with your chin resting atop my shoulder. Keep your spine straight and your arms loose and relaxed at your sides. You may rest your hands on my hips if you find that pose more comfortable.”
He let go a slightly hysterical laugh. “Comfortable isn’t exactly the word that springs to mind. Are you sure this is how it’s done on Athos?”
“Quite sure.”
Rodney dragged in a breath and puffed it out. “Okay. You’re the boss, I guess.”
It took several seconds of fidgeting and scooting before Rodney managed to achieve the desired position. His body was rigid with tension at first, but as Teyla slid her arms around his torso and began carefully probing the length of his spine with warm strong fingertips, Rodney began to relax.
“Where is the pain greatest?”
“Um, well, it started in the middle, near the base of my shoulders, but the pain sort of fanned out into my lower back and my, um, well, past that point. Now the whole thing is like one big throbbing ache.” A surprised sound left his throat and he murmured, “That feels kind of good,” as she pressed the fingers of one hand against the base of his skull and the others in to the edge of his tailbone, working small firm circles over each vertebra as she worked toward the middle of his spine.
“It is not surprising that you have been in pain,” she said softly, resting her palms over the back of his ribcage and splaying her fingers downward in wide firm strokes, trying to smooth the tightness she should feel there. “Each muscle is so tightly locked that I doubt proper blood flow has been circulating. It does not help that you sit hunched forward over your computer for so many unrelieved hours each day.”
Rodney snorted lightly. “Hazard of the job.”
“I know, but if you do not find some form of therapeutic release for your daily stresses, I fear this problem will reoccur often.”
He sighed, chin digging lightly into her shoulder as he relaxed a bit more. “As therapeutic releases go, this ain’t bad,” he murmured.
Teyla chuckled. “Thank you, Rodney. However, I was thinking more of prevention. Something to relieve the tension before it has the opportunity to become a problem.”
“This isn’t about to be another pitch to get me to learn stick-fighting, is it?”
Amusement colored her words as she said, “Ronon might disagree, but I do not believe that hitting you with a stick would achieve the desired result. You must learn to enjoy your leisure time, particularly given how rare that time is for you.”
Her hands continued their gentle glide as they talked, sliding over his shoulders and neck in a gesture that was much like an embrace. Rodney McKay was not what his people would call a ‘touchy-feely’ sort, but Teyla could feel him instinctively melting into the near-hug and for a moment her arms tightened as a bubble of genuine affection overwhelmed her detached therapist façade.
She did not linger over the gesture and Rodney seemed unaware that she had done anything unusual. He did not react at all outside of a soft contented noise. Teyla could feel his body growing a bit heavier in her arms. Not wanting him to fall asleep, she resumed their conversation. “Is there any sort of sport or exercise that you do enjoy participating in?”
Rodney thought for a moment. “I used to be a pretty good swimmer. And I’m not half bad on skates; ice, not roller.”
Having no idea what he meant by that last part, she simply made a sound of vague agreement. “Perhaps you should indulge in something of that nature again. You would achieve your required physical activity quota and do something you enjoy at the same time.”
“More exercise, better nutrition, less stress, and more quality sleep,
etcetera, etcetera. Believe me, you’re not the first person to say that to me.
Hell,
She released her hold, giving him a gentle push to encourage him to straighten away from her. “Then perhaps you should save him the trouble and do as he suggests.”
Rodney grinned a little. “And deprive him of the satisfaction he gets out of being the biggest mother hen in two galaxies? Besides, he’d be saying ‘I told you so’ until we’re both old and gray, and he’s got a big enough ego as it is.”
Given the source of this comment, and the fact that Carson Beckett was probably the least self-centered person she had ever met in her life, Teyla could not help but laugh. “Of course. Stand up, please, and lie face down upon the bed.”
She rose gracefully and patted the cloth covered mattress, giving Rodney a hand up as he attempted to do as she asked without any unnecessary movement. That he did so without question, settling on the bed with his hands folded beneath his right cheek as he waited to see what she would do next, said much about the level of trust they had achieved. Teyla was warmed by it.
Pouring a small pool of lightly scented oil into her palm, she allowed the liquid to acclimate to body temperature for a few seconds before rubbing her hands together and glossing it across Rodney’s back. He tensed again at first, but soon hummed contentedly as her firm strokes worked the tightness from his muscles.
“How’d you learn to do this?”
“My mother, Taghan, was a practitioner of healing arts. She died when I was very young, but I wished to emulate her in some way, so I learned what I could of her practices.”
Rodney turned his head to look at her, frown lines creasing his brow. “I though Taghan was your father’s name.”
Surprised, Teyla said, “No. My father was Torren.”
“When we first met, you said you were Teyla, daughter of Taghan. Guess I just assumed that was your dad because you talk about him a lot.”
She nodded in understanding. “Among my people, it is customary to introduce oneself as the daughters of our mothers or the sons of our fathers.”
“Huh,” he grunted. A few minutes passed in silence, then Rodney mumbled sleepily, “This is nice. Not just this,” he made a vague waving gesture with one hand, “but sort of hanging out and talking. Bet there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know about you.”
Teyla smiled. There was no point in telling him that they rarely talked because he rarely expressed interest in the lives of others, or stopped speaking long enough for anyone else to try. After all, to be fair she had not tried very hard either. Perhaps it was time to change that. “I’m sure the same could be said of you. I know very little of your interests outside of science. Do you enjoy Ferris wheels and football, like Colonel Sheppard, or perhaps fishing and listening to discordant musical instruments, like Dr. Beckett?”
A slight laugh made Rodney’s body shake beneath her hands. “Not any of those. I like . . .” he hesitated a moment, then admitted, “I like playing piano.”
“This is a musical instrument?”
He nodded. “You play by pressing keys that activate tuned strikes against thin tightly-strung wires. The sound is beautiful if it’s done right. I haven’t played since I was a kid, so I probably wouldn’t be very good anymore.”
“But you used to be very good,” she did not phrase the words as a question, knowing from the wistful way he spoke that it was so. “Why did you stop?”
“A teacher told me I had no future in it. Crushed me at the time. See, all I really wanted was to be the very best at something, to find order in something, so I gave up music and turned to math.” He was silent for a moment, then said in a quiet voice, “Sometimes, especially out here, I wish I hadn’t stopped playing. It’s sort of like the Earth fruit, I guess. I never knew how much I missed it until it wasn’t an option any more.”
Teyla’s hands moved up to Rodney’s shoulders, thumbs pressing firmly against the tightly bunched cords of muscle. “I believe you should begin again,” she said, her tone equally firm. “Could a request be put into the next supply run from the Daedalus?”
“A piano isn’t like Sheppard’s guitar. It’s big. Even small cabinet pianos are at least four by four feet. Somehow, I doubt that the SGC would order Colonel Caldwell to make space in his cargo hold just because they’ve been told that Dr. McKay is feeling musical nostalgia.” Sarcasm dripped from the words, but Teyla felt sure that his disdain was not intended for her.
“Then we shall have to keep our eyes open when we visit the trade planets,” Teyla decided. “They may not have exactly the same thing, but I would be willing to wager that someone has invented a similar instrument on one of those worlds. You should not be forever denied something you take deep pleasure in because of one person’s long-ago opinion.”
Rodney did not seem to know quite what to say to that. After a moment, he ventured, “Maybe I could request one of those electronic keypads that plugs into a computer. Not as good as the real thing but at least that way I could practice without anyone knowing, until I have a chance to scrape the rust off.”
Teyla did not entirely understand his meaning but she was pleased to hear that Rodney was seriously considering the idea. She could feel the strain leaving his body faster now that he had something new and interesting to occupy his thoughts. Every so often, he would jerk or gasp when she hit a sore spot, and Teyla could see small quivers occurring in muscles where tension had eased its grip.
She had not kept track of how long she had been working, but simply allowed the peaceful setting and familiar motions to ease her spirit, even as her friend’s pain was eased. The reactions of discomfort were occurring with ever-lessening frequency and Rodney’s soft breathing showed that he was all but asleep when a particularly tight group of sinews near the middle of his spine suddenly released and he reared up, choking, “Oh, my God.”
“Rodney? Are you all right?” Teyla asked in concern, stilling her hands, unsure if the breathless exclamation had been relief or distress.
He fell back against the mattress, panting lightly. “Yeah, just … a little light-headed. Do you have any idea how long that knot has been there?”
From the way his body was trembling, she could tell that it had been far too long. Wiping her hands on a towel she had brought along for that purpose, Teyla walked to the bathroom and poured a glass of water. “Drink this,” she ordered, bringing it back to him.
Rodney seemed confused by the request, but levered himself up on one elbow and did as she said. He handed the glass back. “Does this mean we’re done?”
She smiled and set it down beside her, noting that he sounded disappointed. Clearly the experience had overcome his earlier skepticism. “Not quite.”
Taking a seat on the mattress next to him, Teyla wiped away the remnants of oil from his skin with the towel and urged him to lift up enough that she could remove the protective cloth covering the bed and draw back the covers. Rodney snagged his discarded pillow from the floor and plunked back down atop the exposed sheet, wiggling happily when Teyla’s warm hands once again began their even strokes over his back.
She worked for a few minutes longer, the motions growing slower and lighter, until Rodney heaved a long sigh of contentment, his body settling deeper into the mattress. Within seconds a soft snore began to fill the air.
Teyla waited until she could be certain that Rodney’s sleep was deep and true, then she rose and covered him warmly, imagining how indignant he would be if he only knew that he was being tucked into bed like a little boy. Quietly, she gathered her belongings, extinguishing the candles but leaving them in place for tonight.
Taking a moment to study the small clock on the bedside table, Teyla deactivated the timed alarm. She made a mental note to request that Dr. Weir and Dr. Beckett issue a “do not disturb” order on Rodney’s room until he himself chose to make an appearance. There were no Offworld missions scheduled at present and barring any emergencies, she felt certain that the time off would be granted willingly.
Palming the door open, she turned the lights the rest of the way off and said softly, “Rest well, my friend.”
The fond smile she wore became tender with amusement when a vaguely mumbled, “Night, Teyla,” floated back to her from the darkness.
END
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