(no subject)
Title: Flash of the Blade
Rating: PG
By: Jenda Vis
Spoilers: Up through Reunion
Pairing: Sheppard/Dex
Genre: Drama, WIP
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Sheppard can't figure Ronon out. Or his motives.
A/N: Another WIP. Hopefully the plot won't all fall apart before I get there. :)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Ronon followed the girl to the edge of the alley, but no further, turning around to look at the building across the street, listening to the voices bleeding through the windows.
So this is Sanacra, then. When he thought about it, he wasn't surprised, but it wasn't information that he could use. Not yet, anyway.
He was about to move on when he heard a door open, and turned to find the girl staring at him as an adult woman, followed her out into the street.
She wore the same simple trousers, but the decorations on her tunic were far more elaborate. More lively than the woman who wore it, to be sure.
"Hello. My name's Ronon Dex."
"I am Itris, and this is Atura, my daughter. From what world do you come?"
"I came through the ring from New Sanacra."
"New-" Itris shook her head, grimacing for a moment. "I'm sorry. We do not get many visitors from our sisterworld." She was too polite to spit the word, but it was clear she wanted to. "I suppose you already know you will be unable to leave, and from the look on your face, I feel I should apologize for that."
Ronon shrugged. "It's all right."
"Thank you for saying so. Well, I suppose we should find you lodgings. Did you bring anything with you?"
"I can work, but don't have much of anything to trade."
"Do not worry about that. Lodgings are currently at no premium, you know. There are plenty of rooms available. If you will give me a minute, I will bring you to the Councilor, and he will be able to assist in making your space here."
"Thanks."
Itris ducked back inside, returning with two jackets, one of which she handed over to Atura, who seemed to be growing more confident as time passed. She dodged around Itris to walk on the other side of Ronon, asking, "What is New Sanacra like?"
"Small. Like this. They mine, they farm. They're like people on any other planet."
"I would like to visit there, someday. Some of our family went there. A long time ago. But I can't remember them very well."
Itris smiled tightly. "Atura, please, don't bother our guest. There will be time for questions later, but we should allow him to rest, and eat first."
"It's all right," Ronon said, but smiled back at Itris, more grateful for the reprieved than he wanted to let on.
They walked in silence for a few blocks, and as they progressed, Ronon began to see more people, in doorways, in the streets, and then he could hear the noise of a market, off a few blocks to the east.
"How many people live here?"
"Four hundred and seventeen," Itris recited. We are small, but growing."
"That's good," Ronon said, uncomfortably wishing that he knew how to talk to people like Teyla did. But he didn't say I would have thought you all were dead by now. It didn't seem the neighborly thing to do.
Another block, and they were standing in front of a building that looked more serious than the others, obviously some governmental seat. Itris led them inside, where the light was dim but warm, illuminating the tapestries and several well-used desks.
"Please wait here for a moment," Itris instructed, patting her hair down. "I will return shortly."
"So you're not from New Sanacra. Where are you from?" Atura began, as soon as her mother had disappeared beyond a heavy wooden door.
"At. I used to live in a world called Sateda. Left a long time ago. Been traveling ever since." It wasn't an entire untruth, but he wasn't about to bring Atlantis into the equation. Not before he knew who the Sanacrans were.
"You travel to different worlds?" Atura sounded impressed.
"Yeah."
"Do you like it?"
"Sometimes," when I know where the hell I'm going. And when I know I can leave, he didn't add, glancing at the door in hopes that Itris would return soon.
"I want to travel. Mother says that maybe when I am older, I can ask to join one of the traders."
"Traders?"
"Yes. Every few months, a ship comes. We give them food and cloth and things, they give us different food and cloth. And metal and things. But it's different. Not like the things we have here."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." Atura nodded, grinning. "Yeah," she intoned, apparently liking the sound of it.
Ronon had to admit, he liked the sound of things a little more now, too.
---
The Councilor, a man named Aval, it soon turned out, was Councilor Sidum's brother. He shared the same surname and smallish eyes and red beard. He did not seem to share any brotherly feelings, however.
"He still lives, then?"
"Far as I know," Ronon bit his lip against the lie, draining his mug
"A man who turns his back on his people is not a man of the people, and now he has the gall to think he can lead them? Preposterous," he said, shaking his head and waving to the innkeeper to bring more ale.
More importantly, Councilor Aval set him up with lodgings in the severely under-used inn, and got him work in the fields. It was dull, but easy enough, and the people were kind, if a little talkative and invasive. Same as any other over-isolated world, probably.
It wasn't home, though, and hopefully, after another hundred and forty days or so, never would be.
---
After he was given his own bed in his own room, it still took three weeks for Ronon's mind to calm down enough to sleep through the night, and when he eventually did, he slept hard.
An insistent chime dragged him up out of slumber, and he thought he might have croaked out a noise that sounded like "what" or "yeah" or "come in," and when Sheppard hurried through the door, worry clear on his face, Ronon was shocked to find himself wanting to apologize.
"What's up?" He dragged himself up against the headboard, felt the sheets pooling in his lap, and began to reach for his gun, in case Sheppard needed him somewhere.
"Came by to see if you wanted to go down to the gym, but you weren't answering. Just worried you were sick," Sheppard said, his hand falling away from his sidearm, shoulders deflating in relief. "Shit. Sorry."
Ronon's fingers brushed away from the gun wedged behind the mattress, nodding. "What time is it?"
"Almost time for lunch."
"I was out that long?" Ronon was sure Sheppard could see the flush of embarrassment crawling down over his bare chest. He was nearly naked, bare under the scrutiny. It should have been mortifying, but he found himself sparing a fleeting thought to wonder what would happen if Sheppard took five more steps and came close to his bed. If either of them would reach out.
He blinked, shook the thoughts away along with the rest of the sleep. He wasn't ready for them. Not yet.
"Guess you needed the sleep," Sheppard looked towards the window fighting the grin that wanted to spread from his eyes to his mouth, and moved like he was going to step back, hand reaching up in apology. "Go ahead crash out again if you want. Sorry I woke you."
"It's fine." The moment threatened to freeze there, though, if nothing more was said. "Want to get lunch?"
"I'm starving," Sheppard hurriedly agreed. "I'll be in the mess when you get there."
"Nah," Ronon decided. "Wait up." He stood, dragging on the nearest clothing at hand, stepping into his boots, and buckling the holster around his hips. Trying not to glance up to see if Sheppard was watching him. Trying to guess what it would mean if he was.
"How the hell do you do that?" Sheppard laughed, shaking his head as Ronon finished. "It didn't even take you thirty seconds!"
Ronon shrugged, leading the way out into the hallway. "Learned how to dress myself when I was very young. Why? When do your people learn?"
---
"How did it go, sir?"
"Fine. Zelenka's 302 tracking units are working as advertised, and Caldwell seems satisfied. Should have the rest of the squadron upgraded within the month. Any of the teams report back yet?"
"Nothing from our contacts, but we're still waiting on Harrison's team." Lorne said, glancing back to his screen to reconfirm. "They should be back within the hour."
"All right," Sheppard didn't bother hiding his disappointment. He hadn't noticed that he'd gotten his hopes up again. Happened, sometimes, when he was flying. He'd his guard down for everything but the sky. "I've got to go check in with Carter."
---
He dragged his feet towards Carter's office, already knowing what the discussion would be. She'd ask about any new information. His recommendations.
He would have nothing new, not from their contacts, and nothing from the ground search.
Because she was kind, she would ask him if he thought there was any gain to be found in sending out additional search teams.
He'd have to say that there were none. That they'd have to catch-as-catch can until they happened across better information. She'd give him the orders to sign off on, and he'd scrawl his name, promising himself that he'd break them as soon as he found a reason.
---
He let himself back into his office, making sure the door shut behind him. Sat down at his desk and picked up the file folder that hadn't even been buried under a day's worth of other business, and began to reread every single word of every single field report.
After making initial contact through Teyla some two years ago, Lorne's team had been out to Sanacra six times. Three missions had been in the past three months, two in the past month.
"…seriously, Ronon. If I tell you to do something in the field, I need to know that you can do it. Because I'm sure you can handle it, I just don't know that you will, and I've got a lot of other guys who could fill the position that I can trust to follow orders."
"Right."
"Cool." Sheppard looked up from his computer, smirking almost sympathetically. "We're done, now, so relax. I can't really make you scrub the latrines and running the perimeter ten times wouldn't be a punishment."
"Okay..."
The Sanacrans were primarily miners, though less so than they were on their original home world, which they abandoned six years ago. There were a few hundred people living on New Sanacra.
…Teyla, sitting in the puddlejumper as John flew her to the mainland, was the one to point out that Ronon had been with them for a full year, but it was John who spent the rest of the return trip trying to figure out what it was supposed to mean, because he was pretty sure it was a little more than just a year's services rendered.
He made his way back down to the infirmary as the plan, such as it was, gelled. It felt like something he shouldn't mess up. Like he'd messed up on Sateda, letting Carson and Rodney save Ronon. That was supposed to be his job.
He tried to ignore the warmth spreading up his neck, though, when Ronon's worn and wounded face finally come to life again, just from the offer of beer and bad movies and the chance to sleep in his own bed. It wasn't much, but it was apparently just enough, because Ronon was smiling again, and John hadn't felt like a hero in a while…
Parrish was the one who first made contact with Sahlen, originally as part of his research on the local plant life. Lorne seemed bored with the settlement, while Roth Seems to get along with Sahlen. The guy's so damned friendly that it doesn't mean much. Amundson didn't seem comfortable there. But he's always been the hyper-vigilant one. Better in the air than on the ground.
There was no reason to suspect Councilor Sidum's death was not an assassination, but there were few, if any, political tensions on New Sanacra. Not that they'd seen, at any rate.
"…why did you come to Atlantis?" Ronon followed John into his quarters and talking like everything was starting to feel a little final.
"We came out here because some people's curiosity extends this far. People like Rodney."
"Not what I meant. Why did you come?" John realized that the answer might mean something to him. Like he was looking for some sort of connection.
"Because once, I wanted to get as far away from the world as possible, thought the bottom of the planet was it. Then I found out there was more." John was pretty sure it wasn't the answer Ronon needed to hear, but Ronon didn't leave. Just stood next to him and watched the beam from the energy weapon skitter and crackle over the shield outside...
None of the reports told him anything new, but he flipped them carefully back into order and returned them to the folder, knowing he'd look again, and soon. Wishing the twisting in his gut would cease, that he wasn't missing Ronon Dex so damned much. That there was something-anything at all- that he could do.
He placed the folder on the top of the papers in his inbox. He didn't have the heart to file it away completely. Not yet.
Chapter 4
Rating: PG
By: Jenda Vis
Spoilers: Up through Reunion
Pairing: Sheppard/Dex
Genre: Drama, WIP
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Sheppard can't figure Ronon out. Or his motives.
A/N: Another WIP. Hopefully the plot won't all fall apart before I get there. :)
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Ronon followed the girl to the edge of the alley, but no further, turning around to look at the building across the street, listening to the voices bleeding through the windows.
So this is Sanacra, then. When he thought about it, he wasn't surprised, but it wasn't information that he could use. Not yet, anyway.
He was about to move on when he heard a door open, and turned to find the girl staring at him as an adult woman, followed her out into the street.
She wore the same simple trousers, but the decorations on her tunic were far more elaborate. More lively than the woman who wore it, to be sure.
"Hello. My name's Ronon Dex."
"I am Itris, and this is Atura, my daughter. From what world do you come?"
"I came through the ring from New Sanacra."
"New-" Itris shook her head, grimacing for a moment. "I'm sorry. We do not get many visitors from our sisterworld." She was too polite to spit the word, but it was clear she wanted to. "I suppose you already know you will be unable to leave, and from the look on your face, I feel I should apologize for that."
Ronon shrugged. "It's all right."
"Thank you for saying so. Well, I suppose we should find you lodgings. Did you bring anything with you?"
"I can work, but don't have much of anything to trade."
"Do not worry about that. Lodgings are currently at no premium, you know. There are plenty of rooms available. If you will give me a minute, I will bring you to the Councilor, and he will be able to assist in making your space here."
"Thanks."
Itris ducked back inside, returning with two jackets, one of which she handed over to Atura, who seemed to be growing more confident as time passed. She dodged around Itris to walk on the other side of Ronon, asking, "What is New Sanacra like?"
"Small. Like this. They mine, they farm. They're like people on any other planet."
"I would like to visit there, someday. Some of our family went there. A long time ago. But I can't remember them very well."
Itris smiled tightly. "Atura, please, don't bother our guest. There will be time for questions later, but we should allow him to rest, and eat first."
"It's all right," Ronon said, but smiled back at Itris, more grateful for the reprieved than he wanted to let on.
They walked in silence for a few blocks, and as they progressed, Ronon began to see more people, in doorways, in the streets, and then he could hear the noise of a market, off a few blocks to the east.
"How many people live here?"
"Four hundred and seventeen," Itris recited. We are small, but growing."
"That's good," Ronon said, uncomfortably wishing that he knew how to talk to people like Teyla did. But he didn't say I would have thought you all were dead by now. It didn't seem the neighborly thing to do.
Another block, and they were standing in front of a building that looked more serious than the others, obviously some governmental seat. Itris led them inside, where the light was dim but warm, illuminating the tapestries and several well-used desks.
"Please wait here for a moment," Itris instructed, patting her hair down. "I will return shortly."
"So you're not from New Sanacra. Where are you from?" Atura began, as soon as her mother had disappeared beyond a heavy wooden door.
"At. I used to live in a world called Sateda. Left a long time ago. Been traveling ever since." It wasn't an entire untruth, but he wasn't about to bring Atlantis into the equation. Not before he knew who the Sanacrans were.
"You travel to different worlds?" Atura sounded impressed.
"Yeah."
"Do you like it?"
"Sometimes," when I know where the hell I'm going. And when I know I can leave, he didn't add, glancing at the door in hopes that Itris would return soon.
"I want to travel. Mother says that maybe when I am older, I can ask to join one of the traders."
"Traders?"
"Yes. Every few months, a ship comes. We give them food and cloth and things, they give us different food and cloth. And metal and things. But it's different. Not like the things we have here."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." Atura nodded, grinning. "Yeah," she intoned, apparently liking the sound of it.
Ronon had to admit, he liked the sound of things a little more now, too.
---
The Councilor, a man named Aval, it soon turned out, was Councilor Sidum's brother. He shared the same surname and smallish eyes and red beard. He did not seem to share any brotherly feelings, however.
"He still lives, then?"
"Far as I know," Ronon bit his lip against the lie, draining his mug
"A man who turns his back on his people is not a man of the people, and now he has the gall to think he can lead them? Preposterous," he said, shaking his head and waving to the innkeeper to bring more ale.
More importantly, Councilor Aval set him up with lodgings in the severely under-used inn, and got him work in the fields. It was dull, but easy enough, and the people were kind, if a little talkative and invasive. Same as any other over-isolated world, probably.
It wasn't home, though, and hopefully, after another hundred and forty days or so, never would be.
---
After he was given his own bed in his own room, it still took three weeks for Ronon's mind to calm down enough to sleep through the night, and when he eventually did, he slept hard.
An insistent chime dragged him up out of slumber, and he thought he might have croaked out a noise that sounded like "what" or "yeah" or "come in," and when Sheppard hurried through the door, worry clear on his face, Ronon was shocked to find himself wanting to apologize.
"What's up?" He dragged himself up against the headboard, felt the sheets pooling in his lap, and began to reach for his gun, in case Sheppard needed him somewhere.
"Came by to see if you wanted to go down to the gym, but you weren't answering. Just worried you were sick," Sheppard said, his hand falling away from his sidearm, shoulders deflating in relief. "Shit. Sorry."
Ronon's fingers brushed away from the gun wedged behind the mattress, nodding. "What time is it?"
"Almost time for lunch."
"I was out that long?" Ronon was sure Sheppard could see the flush of embarrassment crawling down over his bare chest. He was nearly naked, bare under the scrutiny. It should have been mortifying, but he found himself sparing a fleeting thought to wonder what would happen if Sheppard took five more steps and came close to his bed. If either of them would reach out.
He blinked, shook the thoughts away along with the rest of the sleep. He wasn't ready for them. Not yet.
"Guess you needed the sleep," Sheppard looked towards the window fighting the grin that wanted to spread from his eyes to his mouth, and moved like he was going to step back, hand reaching up in apology. "Go ahead crash out again if you want. Sorry I woke you."
"It's fine." The moment threatened to freeze there, though, if nothing more was said. "Want to get lunch?"
"I'm starving," Sheppard hurriedly agreed. "I'll be in the mess when you get there."
"Nah," Ronon decided. "Wait up." He stood, dragging on the nearest clothing at hand, stepping into his boots, and buckling the holster around his hips. Trying not to glance up to see if Sheppard was watching him. Trying to guess what it would mean if he was.
"How the hell do you do that?" Sheppard laughed, shaking his head as Ronon finished. "It didn't even take you thirty seconds!"
Ronon shrugged, leading the way out into the hallway. "Learned how to dress myself when I was very young. Why? When do your people learn?"
---
"How did it go, sir?"
"Fine. Zelenka's 302 tracking units are working as advertised, and Caldwell seems satisfied. Should have the rest of the squadron upgraded within the month. Any of the teams report back yet?"
"Nothing from our contacts, but we're still waiting on Harrison's team." Lorne said, glancing back to his screen to reconfirm. "They should be back within the hour."
"All right," Sheppard didn't bother hiding his disappointment. He hadn't noticed that he'd gotten his hopes up again. Happened, sometimes, when he was flying. He'd his guard down for everything but the sky. "I've got to go check in with Carter."
---
He dragged his feet towards Carter's office, already knowing what the discussion would be. She'd ask about any new information. His recommendations.
He would have nothing new, not from their contacts, and nothing from the ground search.
Because she was kind, she would ask him if he thought there was any gain to be found in sending out additional search teams.
He'd have to say that there were none. That they'd have to catch-as-catch can until they happened across better information. She'd give him the orders to sign off on, and he'd scrawl his name, promising himself that he'd break them as soon as he found a reason.
---
He let himself back into his office, making sure the door shut behind him. Sat down at his desk and picked up the file folder that hadn't even been buried under a day's worth of other business, and began to reread every single word of every single field report.
After making initial contact through Teyla some two years ago, Lorne's team had been out to Sanacra six times. Three missions had been in the past three months, two in the past month.
"…seriously, Ronon. If I tell you to do something in the field, I need to know that you can do it. Because I'm sure you can handle it, I just don't know that you will, and I've got a lot of other guys who could fill the position that I can trust to follow orders."
"Right."
"Cool." Sheppard looked up from his computer, smirking almost sympathetically. "We're done, now, so relax. I can't really make you scrub the latrines and running the perimeter ten times wouldn't be a punishment."
"Okay..."
The Sanacrans were primarily miners, though less so than they were on their original home world, which they abandoned six years ago. There were a few hundred people living on New Sanacra.
…Teyla, sitting in the puddlejumper as John flew her to the mainland, was the one to point out that Ronon had been with them for a full year, but it was John who spent the rest of the return trip trying to figure out what it was supposed to mean, because he was pretty sure it was a little more than just a year's services rendered.
He made his way back down to the infirmary as the plan, such as it was, gelled. It felt like something he shouldn't mess up. Like he'd messed up on Sateda, letting Carson and Rodney save Ronon. That was supposed to be his job.
He tried to ignore the warmth spreading up his neck, though, when Ronon's worn and wounded face finally come to life again, just from the offer of beer and bad movies and the chance to sleep in his own bed. It wasn't much, but it was apparently just enough, because Ronon was smiling again, and John hadn't felt like a hero in a while…
Parrish was the one who first made contact with Sahlen, originally as part of his research on the local plant life. Lorne seemed bored with the settlement, while Roth Seems to get along with Sahlen. The guy's so damned friendly that it doesn't mean much. Amundson didn't seem comfortable there. But he's always been the hyper-vigilant one. Better in the air than on the ground.
There was no reason to suspect Councilor Sidum's death was not an assassination, but there were few, if any, political tensions on New Sanacra. Not that they'd seen, at any rate.
"…why did you come to Atlantis?" Ronon followed John into his quarters and talking like everything was starting to feel a little final.
"We came out here because some people's curiosity extends this far. People like Rodney."
"Not what I meant. Why did you come?" John realized that the answer might mean something to him. Like he was looking for some sort of connection.
"Because once, I wanted to get as far away from the world as possible, thought the bottom of the planet was it. Then I found out there was more." John was pretty sure it wasn't the answer Ronon needed to hear, but Ronon didn't leave. Just stood next to him and watched the beam from the energy weapon skitter and crackle over the shield outside...
None of the reports told him anything new, but he flipped them carefully back into order and returned them to the folder, knowing he'd look again, and soon. Wishing the twisting in his gut would cease, that he wasn't missing Ronon Dex so damned much. That there was something-anything at all- that he could do.
He placed the folder on the top of the papers in his inbox. He didn't have the heart to file it away completely. Not yet.
Chapter 4