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Title: The Drowning Deep
Author: Alasse
Rating: PG13
Category: Gen, episode tag
Summary: Ronon and McKay are sent to the mainland to recuperate. Tag to "Sateda".
A/N: Tag means spoilers. Many thanks to my meerschweinchen; Aniko, Dee, Yllek, Toni, etc. You knew I couldn't just leave it there ;)
0x0x0
Ronon hefted the boulder onto the wet cement spread across the rock beneath it. He pushed the new rock into its place with a bit more force than necessary, and grimaced in satisfaction as the stitches in his back twinged sharply in protest. He knew if Doc Beckett were to see him right now he'd be swearing up a storm, bloody this and bloody that, but he didn't care.
He was angry at himself for his reaction to Jinto's innocent question, for his childish overcompensation afterwards, and angry at McKay for being McKay.
He knew he wasn't supposed to be lifting rocks, he knew McKay knew it, he didn't need to be reminded, he didn't need a babysitter, and he certainly didn't need one of those ridiculous hats that would make him look like one of Sheppard's football players.
More and more Ronon was becoming convinced that the people from earth were a bunch of pampered, spoiled children. Ancestors help him though, he really liked these children.
He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. One of his locks had escaped from the knot he'd tied with them, and he shoved it back in. His hair was still damp, and his clothes, though the river water had dried, were now sticky with sweat. He tugged his shirt away from his back and shook it out in the breeze.
An Athosian carrying a rock came up next to him and Ronon moved aside to let him unload his burden. The man pushed the rock in place and stepped back next to Ronon. He pulled off his hard hat and shook out sweat dampened hair. Frowning at the hat, he held it out toward Ronon.
"What exactly is the purpose of these?" he asked politely.
Ronon shrugged. "You'd have to ask McKay.
The man replaced his hat and headed back toward the woods. Ronon grunted and rolled his shoulders. The stitches in his back were still burning, but he pushed that to the back of his mind, and looked out instead on the progress that had been made in little more than half a day.
The rock wall, though barely higher than Ronon's knee, was already spanning the entire width of the stream. A lake had formed, and the stream had slowed to a bare trickle at the edges, and boggy mud on the other side of the dam. The mud oozed around Ronon's boots, sucking at his toes as he crossed it. Pipes were being put in place under McKay's direction, to aim the runoff water toward the fields.
Ronon walked in the other direction, down stream, away from the fields and the rocks and McKay. It was a clear day with bright blue sky, a few puffy clouds floating along. The now boggy stream bed led off into a long stretch of marsh grasses and wild flowers, ending in another set of woods. He followed it, splashing muddy water up his legs, moving as fast as the swampy ground would let him, away from all traces of civilization.
By the time he reached the far set of trees sharp pains were shooting up and down his leg, and he was regretting going so far from the cool water that would have brought relief. Hs back wasn't feeling much better. Frustrated, he kicked out at the nearest tree with his good leg, resulting in a stinging ache in that foot.
He wanted to run. Fast and far and away from everything and everyone. But there was nowhere to go on this world, except back to Atlantis. He sat down heavily on a fallen tree trunk and pulled his hair out of its knot. The tree closest to him was old and craggy; the bark looked almost like a face, the cords wraith hair. He scowled at it. Above him a breeze rustled through the leaves. You can't run forever, Ronon, they whispered.
"Shut up," he told them. He stretched out his leg and massaged the tender areas near the wound, and pointedly ignored the wraith-tree and the whispering leaves, deciding he was most likely losing his mind.
It was growing dark when McKay's voice sounded in his ear. "Ronon, where are you?"
He didn't answer.
"Ronon? Hanja made us dinner, and it's good. Nice and meaty like you like it," McKay's voice had taken on a wheedling tone.
Ronon reached up and switched off the radio in his ear. He sighed. Switching off the radio would only stall McKay for awhile. He was likely to send Halling or some of the other Athosians to look for them. Or worse, call Atlantis, which would send Beckett and Sheppard there in a panic. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet to start the long walk back to the village.
He stayed with the stream bed on the way back, retracing his steps. The cool evening air had hardened some of the mud, showing his steps literally in the form of full boot prints. "Some tracker you'd need to be to find me," he muttered.
The sky grew increasingly darker as he walked, and as he neared the dam the only light was starlight, reflecting in the glassy water. In the distance he could also see the warm glow of the candlelit Athosian tents. He gazed at the tents, not wanting to join the others just yet, and moved closer to the dam instead.
"Doctor McKay says no one will find him if he doesn't want to be found." The loudly whispered voice sent Ronon crouching down behind the rocks.
"We'll find him." This whisper was more confident, and he recognized the voice as Jinto's. The other must be his friend Wex.
Squinting up, he could make out the two shapes on the top of the dam walking across the rocks.
"Then why are we here?" Wex sounded nervous. "Your father told us to stay away from the water. And Ronon's not here."
"He might be," Jinto said. "Fishing maybe. He showed me how. Wanna see?"
"No! We should go back."
"Don't be silly." There was a splashing sound and then. "Almost had one. I felt it!"
"Really?" More splashing, and then a larger splash, followed by a scream.
"Wex?" Jinto's voice rose in panic.
Ronon sprang out of his crouch, wincing at the strain on his leg as he limped toward the boys' voices. "Jinto?"
"Ronon!" Jinto waved his arms, a black silhouette against the night sky. "You're here! Wex fell in, I can't see him."
Ronon scrambled up onto the rocks, which had grown a few feet taller since he'd left work that afternoon. He stared at the ripples of water, trying to locate Wex.
There. A frothy splash several feet away. "Go back to the village," he ordered Jinto. "Get help."
Without waiting to see if he was obeyed, Ronon took a deep breath and dove toward the froth.
The water was cold. Colder than he would have thought, after a day in the sun. As cold as he imagined the water around Atlantis would be. And how had it got so deep? He struggled toward the surface, his lungs on fire as he finally broke into the air. Gasping, he shook water out of his eyes. "Wex?" he croaked.
Flailing arms grasped handfuls of his hair and dragged him under again. His right leg cramped up, refusing to move. He kicked as hard as he could with his left and broke the surface again. Continuing to kick so he could keep his head up, he grabbed Wex's arms, and twisted the boy around in the water until he was face up.
His wet boots and clothes were weighing him down, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the both of them afloat. In the darkness it was impossible to tell which was the nearest shore. Tucking Wex's chest under one arm, he struck out with one arm and one leg toward the rocks.
Jinto's cries for help roused McKay from a brief post-dinner nap. Oh come on, there was absolutely nothing here that could be called intellectually stimulating, and spending the whole day piling rocks in the sun seriously dampened one's enthusiasm for the wraith hive ship schematics he'd brought along for light reading.
He jumped to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and was out of the tent before he realized what he was hearing. A young shape came hurtling toward him, and he reached out defensively, catching Jinto just as the boy's father arrived behind him.
"Whoa, show down," he ordered. "Who fell where?"
"Jinto, what has happened?" Halling asked anxiously.
"Yeah, I believe I just asked that," McKay muttered in annoyance.
Jinto shook himself free of the scientist's hands and turned to his father. "Lake," he gasped. "Wex fell in, Ronon jumped in after him."
"Ronon was at the lake with you?" McKay's annoyance was quickly becoming anger. "I've been calling him all night."
"What were you doing at the lake?" Halling was angry now too. "I've told you never to…"
"Father please," Jinto grabbed his hands and tugged. "You can punish me later, now please hurry."
"Yes, of course," Halling broke into a run, following Jinto back toward the dam, several other Athosian men behind him.
McKay squinted up at the stars. "You aren't going to be able to see anything," he called after them. They ignored him. "Cavemen rescuing cavemen," he grumbled, breaking into a run himself as he turned in the direction of the parked jumper.
Two United States Military issue flashlights in hand, and a rope coiled around his neck, he hurried to the dam. "I've got to exercise more," he gasped, as a stitch in his side made him double over just as the others came into sight. "Wait, what am I saying?" An ache in his backside reminded him he wasn't supposed to be exerting at all. "Ow!"
"McKay!" Halling called. "Over here!"
Straightening, he shined one of the flashlights in the direction of Halling's voice. The tall Athosian was stretched out on his stomach on the rocks, reaching down over the edge. In the water, McKay could barely see a very bedraggled Ronon clinging to a rock with one hand. In between the two was Wex, Ronon pushing and Halling pulling the boy up and out of the lake.
Once Wex was out of the water, the others came forward and took him from Halling, who turned back to Ronon. The Satedan reached up for a higher rock, and pulled himself up about a foot when he slipped and splashed back down under the water. Halling leaned further over, stretching a hand anxiously toward him as he broke the surface gasping.
"Forget it," Ronon grunted, spitting out water. "I'm too heavy for you." He started to sink again.
McKay staggered up to the rocks and the Athosians parted to let him through. "Here," he thrust the rope at Halling. Halling blinked.
"Take it; throw it to him," McKay said, "Lasso him, for Pete's sake!" Ronon's head slipped beneath the water again.
"Hey!" McKay leaned dangerously over the edge. "You get your ass back up, you overgrown Rastafarian!" He threw the rope into the water, the end of it striking Ronon's face as he broke the surface yet again.
With a splash and a grunt, Ronon grasped the rope and looped it under his arms. McKay started to pull his end, and then turned. "A little help, here?"
Halling and two other men came forward and took the rope from McKay. Hand over hand they pulled, hauling Ronon up and out of the water, and only knocking him against the rocks a few times. As his head cleared the top of the rocks, McKay moved forward and grasped two handfuls of wet shirt, pulling until Ronon was lying on the rock next to him.
Ronon lifted his head, groaned, and vomited water all over McKay's and Halling's feet.
"Nice," McKay stepped back, wrinkling his nose at his teammate. "That's gratitude for you."
Ignoring McKay, Ronon struggled to sit, and Halling moved to help him. With his dreads weighed down with water, he looked like a drowned sheepdog. "Are the boys okay?"
"They are fine." Halling paused. "Why were they out here with you?"
"They weren't with me. I think they were looking for me." Ronon pushed wet hair away from his face, and stared up at the other man, shivering. "I'm sorry."
"It is not your fault," Halling moved aside as an Athosian woman knelt next to Ronon and draped a blanket across his shoulders. "You saved Wex's life."
Which wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if Ronon hadn't run off, McKay almost said, but looking at his teammate sitting in a shivering, pitiful huddle, he swallowed those words, and instead said gruffly, "Let's get you back to the tent."
He helped Ronon to his feet and steadied him with a hand on his waist, holding a flashlight in the other. Ronon leaned against his shoulder and they started the slow, silent walk back to the village.
Once inside the tent, Ronon shrugged off the blanket and limped toward his sleeping area. McKay frowned. A dark stain was spreading across the back of Ronon's wet shirt.
"Hey, wait." McKay shined the flashlight at Ronon for a closer look. His teammate turned around and winced at the bright light in his eyes. "Nonono, turn back around," McKay waved his hands, and with a sigh Ronon turned back.
"You're bleeding! Take off your shirt." McKay ordered.
Ronon's shoulder's stiffened. "I'm fine," he said.
"You are not fine, you stubborn…. Just take off the shirt. Please."
With another loud sigh to let McKay know that he was only doing this to humor him, Ronon bent at the waist and pulled the soaked tunic over his head. A trickle of watery blood ran down the scarred skin on his back. McKay moved closer with the flashlight and saw that several of the stitches in his upper back had broken.
"Move your hair," he said, and Ronon complied by flipping it over his face.
"What are you doing, McKay?" he asked around a mouthful of hair.
"Your stitches are busted," Rodney told him. "Fortunately there's just blood, no puss. But I need to put a bandage on it."
"Fine." Ronon growled. "Just hurry up."
"It would help if you sat down," Rodney pointed out. Ronon sank silently to his knees.
"Right." McKay rooted around in his bags for the first aid kit Carson had given him. Steri-strips, gauze pads, tape, he stuffed in one hand, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic in the other. Ronon peered suspiciously at the spray bottle from beneath wet dreads, but said nothing.
He also did not give Rodney the satisfaction of wincing when the antiseptic was sprayed on. McKay let it bubble a bit before wiping it off gently with a gauze pad. Again Ronon did not react.
"Must be nice to never feel any pain," McKay said conversationally, as he pressed steri-strips over the wound edges to close them.
"Are you finished, McKay?" Ronon's teeth were gritted.
"Almost, almost." He covered the strips with gauze, taped it down, and stepped back to admire his work. "I should have been a doctor," he murmured, and waited for a comment. None was forthcoming. He sighed. Sheppard would have had some snappy comeback about a nurse. "Okay, finished."
Ronon stood, tossed his hair back from his face, and pulled back the curtain to his alcove. McKay couldn't stand it any longer. "Wait," he called.
"What now, McKay?" Ronon kept his hand on the curtain.
"Well, don't you want to talk about, I don't know, anything? You've been off moping in the woods all day, something is obviously wrong. Very obviously," he amended, "considering you've still got open wounds from your latest encounter with the wraith. After all that happened on Sateda, and that planet with the arrows," he winced. "You've got to want to vent. I would."
No response.
"Oh come on," McKay ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "How many openings for a snarky comeback do I need to give you? Would you just say something?"
Ronon's fist tightened on the cloth curtain, but he did not turn around. "What would you like me to say?"
"Anything! Geez."
"Fine." Ronon finally let go of the curtain and turned around to face him. His face was pale and tight. "The wraith turned my world to dust. They killed my family, my friends, and my wife. Then they hunted me, toyed with me like a cat does a mouse for seven years. Followed me and killed anyone I met. After seven years I'm finally free, the same wraith that started it all takes me back to where it all started and dumps me in the middle of the graveyard. Now that bastard wraith is dead. Is there anything else you would like to know?"
"No," Rodney said meekly.
"Can I go to bed now?"
"Yes."
Without another word Ronon disappeared behind the curtain.
McKay realized he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, and massaged his now throbbing temples. "Good going Rodney," he muttered to himself. "Make the Hulk angry, why don't you?"
There was a rustling at the front flap of the tent. "Now what?" McKay strode forward and yanked up the flap, to reveal Jinto, holding a clay pitcher similar to the one that had held the coffee that morning. There was steam rising from it, but the smell was wrong.
"That's not coffee." He folded his arms.
Jinto blinked. "No. It's tea," he held up the pitcher for closer inspection and McKay wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Hanja says it's good for chill. I brought it for Ronon." Jinto looked nervously at the closed flap over the sleeping alcove. "May I speak to him? I want to apologize."
"Now might not be the," McKay glanced at the back of the tent," best time. How about you come back in the morning?" He put on his best 'make nice with the kiddies' smile.
Jinto shook his head. "It has to be tonight," he said earnestly. "Before I can sleep. Besides the tea won't do much good by morning."
McKay shrugged. "Fine. It's your funeral." He walked over to the table, starting to sit, grimaced and knelt instead. As he opened his laptop, he heard Jinto cross the tent and call Ronon's name tentatively.
0x0x0
Ronon sat huddled on his pallet, arms wrapped around his knees. He was still shivering and he knew he should put on a shirt, take off the rest of his wet clothes, but he couldn't summon the energy.
He heard voices in the outer tent and tuned them out, lowering his forehead to his arms. His wet hair fell over his ears, which helped, until his tent flap rustled.
"Ronon?" Jinto's voice was subdued. "I brought you tea."
Ronon could smell the tea as tendrils of steam crept past his curtain of hair, but he didn't move.
"I'm sorry," Jinto continued, "we shouldn't have been near the lake after dark. Wex didn't want to go, I made him. It's my fault you got hurt again."
"It wasn't your fault," Ronon said gruffly. "I didn't get hurt. Go back to your friend." The last came out a bit more sharply then he had intended, and he gave himself a mental shake. This was a child, not McKay. Though at times it was hard to tell the difference.
He felt the pallet sink as Jinto climbed on beside him. Fingers poked lightly at the bandage McKay had put on his back, and touched his hair.
"You're still wet," Jinto said. "Are you sure you don't want some tea?"
Ronon closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them again. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head and faced Jinto. "No," he said carefully. "I just want to be alone. Please go." He turned back to stare studiously at the wall of the tent.
Jinto didn't move. "When my mother died," he said very softly. "My father used to cry at night. He didn't think I heard him, but I did."
Ronon frowned. Jinto thought he was crying? He touched his face. It was wet, but only from his hair. "I'm not…"
"It's okay." Jinto's small arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Shocked, Ronon remained still. The child's touch made something break inside of him. Despite his protestations, he felt hot tears welling up inside his eyelids. He shut them, but the tears leaked out anyway, mingling with the cold lake water on his cheeks. Giving up, he let the tears flow soundlessly, as Jinto gently patted his back.
In all his years running, He'd not allowed himself to think, to remember, afraid that if he did he wouldn't be able to stop, and then the wraith would catch him. So he'd pushed it down deep, Sateda, Melena, his squad, all of it, not allowing himself to even picture a face or a building.
He wasn't running anymore, but by the time the Lanteans had found him the habit was too strong, the locks in his mind too firmly in place. Even seeing the images of Sateda on his first day in the city of the ancestors had not been enough. But being back there, in the midst of the destructions, confronted with the burned bones of his people, he'd had no choice but to remember.
Sateda was gone. With her stargate destroyed, and her pitifully few survivors scattered, the world was well and truly dead. But her people deserved to be remembered and honored. He was no good at ceremonies, or speeches, not like Doctor Weir, but he would find some way to honor them. A start would be to not alienate the people who had taken him in, and risked their lives to get him back.
He straightened, scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, and turned to Jinto. "I believe I am ready for some tea," he said.
0x0x0
McKay rolled over as sunlight crept through the seams of the tent and touched his face. He groaned, stretched, and pushed himself to a sitting position, careful not to let weight fall on his left cheek.
"'Nother day, 'nother dollar," he mumbled, "Get coffee, finish dam." He ran his fingers through his hair and yawned.
Rising to his feet, he pushed aside the tent flap and saw that once again Ronon was already up. His teammate was sitting cross-legged at the table with his back to McKay, sipping from a cup. The pitcher that Jinto had brought the night before was in the center of the table. Ronon was dressed in one of the loose Athosian tunics, though on him it wasn't very loose, as Halling was the only Athosian who came close to Ronon in size. His hair looked damp still, and was tied tightly back with what looked like twine.
McKay hesitated, part of him wanting to go back to bed before Ronon saw him and stay there until the other man left. Another part of him, which strangely enough had Sheppard's voice, told him he was being a 'wuss.' His decision was made for him when Ronon turned around, and pulled the earbuds out of his ears.
"Jinto's coming soon with your coffee and some rolls," Ronon said. "But there's still a little tea."
That was pretty long sentence coming from Ronon, and McKay took the peace offering for what it was. He knelt at the other side of the table, poured some tea into a spare cup, and took a sip. He grimaced as the cold bitter liquid slide down his throat. Really, he could not understand how Teyla could drink this dishwater every day and yet not like coffee.
Ronon was watching him with the faintest look of amusement. His book was open on his lap, and it was obvious he'd progressed quite a way from the day before. McKay wondered if Ronon had even slept, thought the caveman was looking more human than he had in days, so he didn't ask. Instead he pointed at the book.
"How's the story going?" he asked, forcing down another gulp of tea.
"It's okay," Ronon said. He thumbed back through some of the pages he'd read.
"There are lots of battles," McKay said, trying to keep the conversation going. "Should be just your thing."
"The battles are nice," Ronon agreed. He looked doubtfully back down at the page he had open. "Teyla told me one of the characters reminds her of me, but I'm not sure which one."
McKay rolled his eyes. "Probably Aragorn. All the women love Aragorn."
Ronon frowned. "Aragorn? Not Gimli?"
McKay choked on his tea, and collapsed over the table in a fit of coughing. Ronon leaned over and anxiously pounded his back.
"Gimli?" McKay gasped. "Yeah, that could be it. I think you have less hair though." He waved Ronon's hand away, and coughed one more time.
"How did you find me?" Ronon asked abruptly.
McKay blinked. "What?"
"On Sateda. How did you find me?"
"Oh. It was rather brilliant actually," McKay smiled. "I took the first tracking device that Carson removed from you, activated it at a low frequency, and modified our long range sensors to find others like it. I recognized the planet designation of Sateda, so knew that one was you."
Ronon nodded thoughtfully. He closed his book and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. His gaze was intense. "How many others?"
McKay shrugged. "Six or seven, I think."
"Can you find them again? The other runners?"
"Sure. We've got two trackers to play with now." McKay paused. "Wait a minute. You're not suggesting we go rescue the other runners?"
"You rescued me," Ronon pointed out.
"Yes, but," McKay bit his lip, deciding not to tell Ronon about the argument between Sheppard and Caldwell. "You're one of us," he said instead. "I mean, we don't know who these others are."
"Victims of the wraith. Like me."
"Okay, look, we'll bring it up to Elizabeth at the next briefing and see what she says."
"She'll say yes," Ronon said confidently, leaning back. "We can find more allies this way. She'll like that. And we can kill more wraith."
"Well, that's always a plus." McKay tried to keep the sarcasm in his voice to a minimum, not wanting to dampen the big guy's enthusiasm, especially after yesterday. He sighed. He felt for the runners, he really did, it was just that he wanted to be out finding and learning Ancient technology, not traipsing about the galaxy playing search and rescue to a bunch of wraith refugees. Ronon quirked a questioning eyebrow at him and he felt a stab of guilt.
"Look, Ronon," he said softly. "I'm sorry. About your family, your wife."
"Thank you," Ronon said gravely.
McKay cleared his throat, looking away. "So, what say we go finish that dam so we can go home?"
"Coffee first?" Ronon suggested.
McKay looked back and him and saw Ronon was almost smiling. "Coffee first," he agreed. "Of course. Where is that kid, anyway?"
This time Ronon really did smile.
~the end~
Author: Alasse
Rating: PG13
Category: Gen, episode tag
Summary: Ronon and McKay are sent to the mainland to recuperate. Tag to "Sateda".
A/N: Tag means spoilers. Many thanks to my meerschweinchen; Aniko, Dee, Yllek, Toni, etc. You knew I couldn't just leave it there ;)
0x0x0
Ronon hefted the boulder onto the wet cement spread across the rock beneath it. He pushed the new rock into its place with a bit more force than necessary, and grimaced in satisfaction as the stitches in his back twinged sharply in protest. He knew if Doc Beckett were to see him right now he'd be swearing up a storm, bloody this and bloody that, but he didn't care.
He was angry at himself for his reaction to Jinto's innocent question, for his childish overcompensation afterwards, and angry at McKay for being McKay.
He knew he wasn't supposed to be lifting rocks, he knew McKay knew it, he didn't need to be reminded, he didn't need a babysitter, and he certainly didn't need one of those ridiculous hats that would make him look like one of Sheppard's football players.
More and more Ronon was becoming convinced that the people from earth were a bunch of pampered, spoiled children. Ancestors help him though, he really liked these children.
He sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. One of his locks had escaped from the knot he'd tied with them, and he shoved it back in. His hair was still damp, and his clothes, though the river water had dried, were now sticky with sweat. He tugged his shirt away from his back and shook it out in the breeze.
An Athosian carrying a rock came up next to him and Ronon moved aside to let him unload his burden. The man pushed the rock in place and stepped back next to Ronon. He pulled off his hard hat and shook out sweat dampened hair. Frowning at the hat, he held it out toward Ronon.
"What exactly is the purpose of these?" he asked politely.
Ronon shrugged. "You'd have to ask McKay.
The man replaced his hat and headed back toward the woods. Ronon grunted and rolled his shoulders. The stitches in his back were still burning, but he pushed that to the back of his mind, and looked out instead on the progress that had been made in little more than half a day.
The rock wall, though barely higher than Ronon's knee, was already spanning the entire width of the stream. A lake had formed, and the stream had slowed to a bare trickle at the edges, and boggy mud on the other side of the dam. The mud oozed around Ronon's boots, sucking at his toes as he crossed it. Pipes were being put in place under McKay's direction, to aim the runoff water toward the fields.
Ronon walked in the other direction, down stream, away from the fields and the rocks and McKay. It was a clear day with bright blue sky, a few puffy clouds floating along. The now boggy stream bed led off into a long stretch of marsh grasses and wild flowers, ending in another set of woods. He followed it, splashing muddy water up his legs, moving as fast as the swampy ground would let him, away from all traces of civilization.
By the time he reached the far set of trees sharp pains were shooting up and down his leg, and he was regretting going so far from the cool water that would have brought relief. Hs back wasn't feeling much better. Frustrated, he kicked out at the nearest tree with his good leg, resulting in a stinging ache in that foot.
He wanted to run. Fast and far and away from everything and everyone. But there was nowhere to go on this world, except back to Atlantis. He sat down heavily on a fallen tree trunk and pulled his hair out of its knot. The tree closest to him was old and craggy; the bark looked almost like a face, the cords wraith hair. He scowled at it. Above him a breeze rustled through the leaves. You can't run forever, Ronon, they whispered.
"Shut up," he told them. He stretched out his leg and massaged the tender areas near the wound, and pointedly ignored the wraith-tree and the whispering leaves, deciding he was most likely losing his mind.
It was growing dark when McKay's voice sounded in his ear. "Ronon, where are you?"
He didn't answer.
"Ronon? Hanja made us dinner, and it's good. Nice and meaty like you like it," McKay's voice had taken on a wheedling tone.
Ronon reached up and switched off the radio in his ear. He sighed. Switching off the radio would only stall McKay for awhile. He was likely to send Halling or some of the other Athosians to look for them. Or worse, call Atlantis, which would send Beckett and Sheppard there in a panic. Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet to start the long walk back to the village.
He stayed with the stream bed on the way back, retracing his steps. The cool evening air had hardened some of the mud, showing his steps literally in the form of full boot prints. "Some tracker you'd need to be to find me," he muttered.
The sky grew increasingly darker as he walked, and as he neared the dam the only light was starlight, reflecting in the glassy water. In the distance he could also see the warm glow of the candlelit Athosian tents. He gazed at the tents, not wanting to join the others just yet, and moved closer to the dam instead.
"Doctor McKay says no one will find him if he doesn't want to be found." The loudly whispered voice sent Ronon crouching down behind the rocks.
"We'll find him." This whisper was more confident, and he recognized the voice as Jinto's. The other must be his friend Wex.
Squinting up, he could make out the two shapes on the top of the dam walking across the rocks.
"Then why are we here?" Wex sounded nervous. "Your father told us to stay away from the water. And Ronon's not here."
"He might be," Jinto said. "Fishing maybe. He showed me how. Wanna see?"
"No! We should go back."
"Don't be silly." There was a splashing sound and then. "Almost had one. I felt it!"
"Really?" More splashing, and then a larger splash, followed by a scream.
"Wex?" Jinto's voice rose in panic.
Ronon sprang out of his crouch, wincing at the strain on his leg as he limped toward the boys' voices. "Jinto?"
"Ronon!" Jinto waved his arms, a black silhouette against the night sky. "You're here! Wex fell in, I can't see him."
Ronon scrambled up onto the rocks, which had grown a few feet taller since he'd left work that afternoon. He stared at the ripples of water, trying to locate Wex.
There. A frothy splash several feet away. "Go back to the village," he ordered Jinto. "Get help."
Without waiting to see if he was obeyed, Ronon took a deep breath and dove toward the froth.
The water was cold. Colder than he would have thought, after a day in the sun. As cold as he imagined the water around Atlantis would be. And how had it got so deep? He struggled toward the surface, his lungs on fire as he finally broke into the air. Gasping, he shook water out of his eyes. "Wex?" he croaked.
Flailing arms grasped handfuls of his hair and dragged him under again. His right leg cramped up, refusing to move. He kicked as hard as he could with his left and broke the surface again. Continuing to kick so he could keep his head up, he grabbed Wex's arms, and twisted the boy around in the water until he was face up.
His wet boots and clothes were weighing him down, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could keep the both of them afloat. In the darkness it was impossible to tell which was the nearest shore. Tucking Wex's chest under one arm, he struck out with one arm and one leg toward the rocks.
Jinto's cries for help roused McKay from a brief post-dinner nap. Oh come on, there was absolutely nothing here that could be called intellectually stimulating, and spending the whole day piling rocks in the sun seriously dampened one's enthusiasm for the wraith hive ship schematics he'd brought along for light reading.
He jumped to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and was out of the tent before he realized what he was hearing. A young shape came hurtling toward him, and he reached out defensively, catching Jinto just as the boy's father arrived behind him.
"Whoa, show down," he ordered. "Who fell where?"
"Jinto, what has happened?" Halling asked anxiously.
"Yeah, I believe I just asked that," McKay muttered in annoyance.
Jinto shook himself free of the scientist's hands and turned to his father. "Lake," he gasped. "Wex fell in, Ronon jumped in after him."
"Ronon was at the lake with you?" McKay's annoyance was quickly becoming anger. "I've been calling him all night."
"What were you doing at the lake?" Halling was angry now too. "I've told you never to…"
"Father please," Jinto grabbed his hands and tugged. "You can punish me later, now please hurry."
"Yes, of course," Halling broke into a run, following Jinto back toward the dam, several other Athosian men behind him.
McKay squinted up at the stars. "You aren't going to be able to see anything," he called after them. They ignored him. "Cavemen rescuing cavemen," he grumbled, breaking into a run himself as he turned in the direction of the parked jumper.
Two United States Military issue flashlights in hand, and a rope coiled around his neck, he hurried to the dam. "I've got to exercise more," he gasped, as a stitch in his side made him double over just as the others came into sight. "Wait, what am I saying?" An ache in his backside reminded him he wasn't supposed to be exerting at all. "Ow!"
"McKay!" Halling called. "Over here!"
Straightening, he shined one of the flashlights in the direction of Halling's voice. The tall Athosian was stretched out on his stomach on the rocks, reaching down over the edge. In the water, McKay could barely see a very bedraggled Ronon clinging to a rock with one hand. In between the two was Wex, Ronon pushing and Halling pulling the boy up and out of the lake.
Once Wex was out of the water, the others came forward and took him from Halling, who turned back to Ronon. The Satedan reached up for a higher rock, and pulled himself up about a foot when he slipped and splashed back down under the water. Halling leaned further over, stretching a hand anxiously toward him as he broke the surface gasping.
"Forget it," Ronon grunted, spitting out water. "I'm too heavy for you." He started to sink again.
McKay staggered up to the rocks and the Athosians parted to let him through. "Here," he thrust the rope at Halling. Halling blinked.
"Take it; throw it to him," McKay said, "Lasso him, for Pete's sake!" Ronon's head slipped beneath the water again.
"Hey!" McKay leaned dangerously over the edge. "You get your ass back up, you overgrown Rastafarian!" He threw the rope into the water, the end of it striking Ronon's face as he broke the surface yet again.
With a splash and a grunt, Ronon grasped the rope and looped it under his arms. McKay started to pull his end, and then turned. "A little help, here?"
Halling and two other men came forward and took the rope from McKay. Hand over hand they pulled, hauling Ronon up and out of the water, and only knocking him against the rocks a few times. As his head cleared the top of the rocks, McKay moved forward and grasped two handfuls of wet shirt, pulling until Ronon was lying on the rock next to him.
Ronon lifted his head, groaned, and vomited water all over McKay's and Halling's feet.
"Nice," McKay stepped back, wrinkling his nose at his teammate. "That's gratitude for you."
Ignoring McKay, Ronon struggled to sit, and Halling moved to help him. With his dreads weighed down with water, he looked like a drowned sheepdog. "Are the boys okay?"
"They are fine." Halling paused. "Why were they out here with you?"
"They weren't with me. I think they were looking for me." Ronon pushed wet hair away from his face, and stared up at the other man, shivering. "I'm sorry."
"It is not your fault," Halling moved aside as an Athosian woman knelt next to Ronon and draped a blanket across his shoulders. "You saved Wex's life."
Which wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if Ronon hadn't run off, McKay almost said, but looking at his teammate sitting in a shivering, pitiful huddle, he swallowed those words, and instead said gruffly, "Let's get you back to the tent."
He helped Ronon to his feet and steadied him with a hand on his waist, holding a flashlight in the other. Ronon leaned against his shoulder and they started the slow, silent walk back to the village.
Once inside the tent, Ronon shrugged off the blanket and limped toward his sleeping area. McKay frowned. A dark stain was spreading across the back of Ronon's wet shirt.
"Hey, wait." McKay shined the flashlight at Ronon for a closer look. His teammate turned around and winced at the bright light in his eyes. "Nonono, turn back around," McKay waved his hands, and with a sigh Ronon turned back.
"You're bleeding! Take off your shirt." McKay ordered.
Ronon's shoulder's stiffened. "I'm fine," he said.
"You are not fine, you stubborn…. Just take off the shirt. Please."
With another loud sigh to let McKay know that he was only doing this to humor him, Ronon bent at the waist and pulled the soaked tunic over his head. A trickle of watery blood ran down the scarred skin on his back. McKay moved closer with the flashlight and saw that several of the stitches in his upper back had broken.
"Move your hair," he said, and Ronon complied by flipping it over his face.
"What are you doing, McKay?" he asked around a mouthful of hair.
"Your stitches are busted," Rodney told him. "Fortunately there's just blood, no puss. But I need to put a bandage on it."
"Fine." Ronon growled. "Just hurry up."
"It would help if you sat down," Rodney pointed out. Ronon sank silently to his knees.
"Right." McKay rooted around in his bags for the first aid kit Carson had given him. Steri-strips, gauze pads, tape, he stuffed in one hand, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic in the other. Ronon peered suspiciously at the spray bottle from beneath wet dreads, but said nothing.
He also did not give Rodney the satisfaction of wincing when the antiseptic was sprayed on. McKay let it bubble a bit before wiping it off gently with a gauze pad. Again Ronon did not react.
"Must be nice to never feel any pain," McKay said conversationally, as he pressed steri-strips over the wound edges to close them.
"Are you finished, McKay?" Ronon's teeth were gritted.
"Almost, almost." He covered the strips with gauze, taped it down, and stepped back to admire his work. "I should have been a doctor," he murmured, and waited for a comment. None was forthcoming. He sighed. Sheppard would have had some snappy comeback about a nurse. "Okay, finished."
Ronon stood, tossed his hair back from his face, and pulled back the curtain to his alcove. McKay couldn't stand it any longer. "Wait," he called.
"What now, McKay?" Ronon kept his hand on the curtain.
"Well, don't you want to talk about, I don't know, anything? You've been off moping in the woods all day, something is obviously wrong. Very obviously," he amended, "considering you've still got open wounds from your latest encounter with the wraith. After all that happened on Sateda, and that planet with the arrows," he winced. "You've got to want to vent. I would."
No response.
"Oh come on," McKay ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "How many openings for a snarky comeback do I need to give you? Would you just say something?"
Ronon's fist tightened on the cloth curtain, but he did not turn around. "What would you like me to say?"
"Anything! Geez."
"Fine." Ronon finally let go of the curtain and turned around to face him. His face was pale and tight. "The wraith turned my world to dust. They killed my family, my friends, and my wife. Then they hunted me, toyed with me like a cat does a mouse for seven years. Followed me and killed anyone I met. After seven years I'm finally free, the same wraith that started it all takes me back to where it all started and dumps me in the middle of the graveyard. Now that bastard wraith is dead. Is there anything else you would like to know?"
"No," Rodney said meekly.
"Can I go to bed now?"
"Yes."
Without another word Ronon disappeared behind the curtain.
McKay realized he was holding his breath. He let it out slowly, and massaged his now throbbing temples. "Good going Rodney," he muttered to himself. "Make the Hulk angry, why don't you?"
There was a rustling at the front flap of the tent. "Now what?" McKay strode forward and yanked up the flap, to reveal Jinto, holding a clay pitcher similar to the one that had held the coffee that morning. There was steam rising from it, but the smell was wrong.
"That's not coffee." He folded his arms.
Jinto blinked. "No. It's tea," he held up the pitcher for closer inspection and McKay wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Hanja says it's good for chill. I brought it for Ronon." Jinto looked nervously at the closed flap over the sleeping alcove. "May I speak to him? I want to apologize."
"Now might not be the," McKay glanced at the back of the tent," best time. How about you come back in the morning?" He put on his best 'make nice with the kiddies' smile.
Jinto shook his head. "It has to be tonight," he said earnestly. "Before I can sleep. Besides the tea won't do much good by morning."
McKay shrugged. "Fine. It's your funeral." He walked over to the table, starting to sit, grimaced and knelt instead. As he opened his laptop, he heard Jinto cross the tent and call Ronon's name tentatively.
0x0x0
Ronon sat huddled on his pallet, arms wrapped around his knees. He was still shivering and he knew he should put on a shirt, take off the rest of his wet clothes, but he couldn't summon the energy.
He heard voices in the outer tent and tuned them out, lowering his forehead to his arms. His wet hair fell over his ears, which helped, until his tent flap rustled.
"Ronon?" Jinto's voice was subdued. "I brought you tea."
Ronon could smell the tea as tendrils of steam crept past his curtain of hair, but he didn't move.
"I'm sorry," Jinto continued, "we shouldn't have been near the lake after dark. Wex didn't want to go, I made him. It's my fault you got hurt again."
"It wasn't your fault," Ronon said gruffly. "I didn't get hurt. Go back to your friend." The last came out a bit more sharply then he had intended, and he gave himself a mental shake. This was a child, not McKay. Though at times it was hard to tell the difference.
He felt the pallet sink as Jinto climbed on beside him. Fingers poked lightly at the bandage McKay had put on his back, and touched his hair.
"You're still wet," Jinto said. "Are you sure you don't want some tea?"
Ronon closed his eyes tightly, and then opened them again. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head and faced Jinto. "No," he said carefully. "I just want to be alone. Please go." He turned back to stare studiously at the wall of the tent.
Jinto didn't move. "When my mother died," he said very softly. "My father used to cry at night. He didn't think I heard him, but I did."
Ronon frowned. Jinto thought he was crying? He touched his face. It was wet, but only from his hair. "I'm not…"
"It's okay." Jinto's small arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Shocked, Ronon remained still. The child's touch made something break inside of him. Despite his protestations, he felt hot tears welling up inside his eyelids. He shut them, but the tears leaked out anyway, mingling with the cold lake water on his cheeks. Giving up, he let the tears flow soundlessly, as Jinto gently patted his back.
In all his years running, He'd not allowed himself to think, to remember, afraid that if he did he wouldn't be able to stop, and then the wraith would catch him. So he'd pushed it down deep, Sateda, Melena, his squad, all of it, not allowing himself to even picture a face or a building.
He wasn't running anymore, but by the time the Lanteans had found him the habit was too strong, the locks in his mind too firmly in place. Even seeing the images of Sateda on his first day in the city of the ancestors had not been enough. But being back there, in the midst of the destructions, confronted with the burned bones of his people, he'd had no choice but to remember.
Sateda was gone. With her stargate destroyed, and her pitifully few survivors scattered, the world was well and truly dead. But her people deserved to be remembered and honored. He was no good at ceremonies, or speeches, not like Doctor Weir, but he would find some way to honor them. A start would be to not alienate the people who had taken him in, and risked their lives to get him back.
He straightened, scrubbed his face with the back of his hand, and turned to Jinto. "I believe I am ready for some tea," he said.
0x0x0
McKay rolled over as sunlight crept through the seams of the tent and touched his face. He groaned, stretched, and pushed himself to a sitting position, careful not to let weight fall on his left cheek.
"'Nother day, 'nother dollar," he mumbled, "Get coffee, finish dam." He ran his fingers through his hair and yawned.
Rising to his feet, he pushed aside the tent flap and saw that once again Ronon was already up. His teammate was sitting cross-legged at the table with his back to McKay, sipping from a cup. The pitcher that Jinto had brought the night before was in the center of the table. Ronon was dressed in one of the loose Athosian tunics, though on him it wasn't very loose, as Halling was the only Athosian who came close to Ronon in size. His hair looked damp still, and was tied tightly back with what looked like twine.
McKay hesitated, part of him wanting to go back to bed before Ronon saw him and stay there until the other man left. Another part of him, which strangely enough had Sheppard's voice, told him he was being a 'wuss.' His decision was made for him when Ronon turned around, and pulled the earbuds out of his ears.
"Jinto's coming soon with your coffee and some rolls," Ronon said. "But there's still a little tea."
That was pretty long sentence coming from Ronon, and McKay took the peace offering for what it was. He knelt at the other side of the table, poured some tea into a spare cup, and took a sip. He grimaced as the cold bitter liquid slide down his throat. Really, he could not understand how Teyla could drink this dishwater every day and yet not like coffee.
Ronon was watching him with the faintest look of amusement. His book was open on his lap, and it was obvious he'd progressed quite a way from the day before. McKay wondered if Ronon had even slept, thought the caveman was looking more human than he had in days, so he didn't ask. Instead he pointed at the book.
"How's the story going?" he asked, forcing down another gulp of tea.
"It's okay," Ronon said. He thumbed back through some of the pages he'd read.
"There are lots of battles," McKay said, trying to keep the conversation going. "Should be just your thing."
"The battles are nice," Ronon agreed. He looked doubtfully back down at the page he had open. "Teyla told me one of the characters reminds her of me, but I'm not sure which one."
McKay rolled his eyes. "Probably Aragorn. All the women love Aragorn."
Ronon frowned. "Aragorn? Not Gimli?"
McKay choked on his tea, and collapsed over the table in a fit of coughing. Ronon leaned over and anxiously pounded his back.
"Gimli?" McKay gasped. "Yeah, that could be it. I think you have less hair though." He waved Ronon's hand away, and coughed one more time.
"How did you find me?" Ronon asked abruptly.
McKay blinked. "What?"
"On Sateda. How did you find me?"
"Oh. It was rather brilliant actually," McKay smiled. "I took the first tracking device that Carson removed from you, activated it at a low frequency, and modified our long range sensors to find others like it. I recognized the planet designation of Sateda, so knew that one was you."
Ronon nodded thoughtfully. He closed his book and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. His gaze was intense. "How many others?"
McKay shrugged. "Six or seven, I think."
"Can you find them again? The other runners?"
"Sure. We've got two trackers to play with now." McKay paused. "Wait a minute. You're not suggesting we go rescue the other runners?"
"You rescued me," Ronon pointed out.
"Yes, but," McKay bit his lip, deciding not to tell Ronon about the argument between Sheppard and Caldwell. "You're one of us," he said instead. "I mean, we don't know who these others are."
"Victims of the wraith. Like me."
"Okay, look, we'll bring it up to Elizabeth at the next briefing and see what she says."
"She'll say yes," Ronon said confidently, leaning back. "We can find more allies this way. She'll like that. And we can kill more wraith."
"Well, that's always a plus." McKay tried to keep the sarcasm in his voice to a minimum, not wanting to dampen the big guy's enthusiasm, especially after yesterday. He sighed. He felt for the runners, he really did, it was just that he wanted to be out finding and learning Ancient technology, not traipsing about the galaxy playing search and rescue to a bunch of wraith refugees. Ronon quirked a questioning eyebrow at him and he felt a stab of guilt.
"Look, Ronon," he said softly. "I'm sorry. About your family, your wife."
"Thank you," Ronon said gravely.
McKay cleared his throat, looking away. "So, what say we go finish that dam so we can go home?"
"Coffee first?" Ronon suggested.
McKay looked back and him and saw Ronon was almost smiling. "Coffee first," he agreed. "Of course. Where is that kid, anyway?"
This time Ronon really did smile.
~the end~
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From: (Anonymous)
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And there will most likely be a sequel, when I get my molasses brain to start working on it!
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Loved the boys looking for Ronon and getting into trouble. Poor Ronon, he's really had a rough patch lately, hasn't he?
Also loved the end of this part. The conversations between the two teammates are just perfect. Each man's discomfort with anything resembling verbalizing their emotions or feelings was very well done and true to their natures.
But-but-but...You can't end it here! There is so much more that could happen to the boys (the Lantean ones, that is ::grins::) before the dam is finished and they return.... ::emulates icon::
PS. Would love to chat with you all again soon! Have been a bit under the weather, but better and hope to be online more now. I didn't think to ask last time who had ljs--may I add you to my flist here too?
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I'm planning a sequel w/ them going after the other runners, but I think it will be a big project, so dunno when Ms Molasses (me) will get it done - lol.
Hope you feel better, and absolutely add away!
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Have now added you to my flist--thanks! :)
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