John missed being here.

Perhaps it was the natural environment, so different from the clean lines of Atlantis or the earthly smell in the air, rather than the briny scent of the ocean, but there was undoubtedly something about this place that was welcoming to him.

A rustling from the trees pulled him from his lake-gazing. Teyla walked to John, her hair incandescent in the moonlight. “I thought you would be here,” she said warmly.

“It’s been too long since we‘ve come back,” he replied, skipping a stone across the lake’s surface.

She walked to him, standing close to John. “Three years,” she said, agreeing with him.

Finally, after years of waiting for SGC to grant permission, Atlantis and her crew were finally allowed to go back to the Pegasus Galaxy. After John settled Atlantis to her new home planet, Teyla and John dialed Athos to meet with her people.

He turned to her. “How did things go?”

She smiled brightly. “It went well. It was wonderful seeing Halling and the others. They have thrived while we were away. The village even has a couple of newborns,” she answered, pleased.

Though he really did care about the well-being of her people, John had other issues on his mind. “How did they take the news of Kanaan?” he asked, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“They did not seemed surprised as you believed they would that Kanaan and I decided not to pursue a further relationship,” she answered, touching his arm softly. “They did have a hard time believing that he chose to stay on Earth and marry there.”

“Love makes you do crazy things,” he said knowingly. He turned his gaze to the lake. “What did they think about me?”

“You have nothing to worry about,” she said firmly. “They have given their blessings to us.”

John let out a long breath. He was more nervous of revealing his and Teyla’s relationship to the Athosians than to those at SGC. “Well, that’s good,” he said with a small smile.

“They are preparing a welcoming feast for us,” she said. “Torren is helping Jinto cut up some tuttle root.”

John grinned as he pictured little Torren trying to cut through the tough skin of the root vegetable, probably muttering some colorful Czech words that he had picked up from his time with Radek on earth.

“Well, you should get back to your people,” he said.

“John,” she said, stepping into his embrace, “they are your people now as well.”