I Live to Fall Asleep (SGA, Sheppard/Dex preslash)
Title: I Live to Fall Asleep
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: SGA (Sheppard/Dex preslash)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Genre: Ficlet written for hc_bingo for prompt "Telepathy (always there, but sudden trauma)"
A/N: Gah. This one was a complete pain in the ass, but I'm dead tired of looking at it. So here goes.
Ronon learned a lot, his first years running. How to hide, how to cover his tracks. Patience.
He forgot a few things, too. How to talk to people. He didn't get much practice.
The third or fourth year, he began to realize that he didn't have to. Figured that he could hear them, even from a mile away, watching from under the cover of trees.
The first time he heard another's thoughts, he was sure that he'd gone mad. The second time, another world, and he guessed that he was trying to make up for something he didn't want to think about lacking. Inventing comforting stories to remind himself that if those things down in the village over there were human, that he was, too.
The third time, he heard a mother calling for her son in her head, seconds before she voiced it, and didn't have the time to think about it at all, not until much later, because the wraith dart was heading straight for him, next.
He ran, and he didn't stop.
---
He knew how to avoid people, and he was better at it, now. He wasn't just able to avoid them with a much larger margin, now. He had to.
The thoughts of an entire village dying weren't meant to fit inside one head.
---
The wraith were the closest thing he had to human contact. Until the strangers appeared.
---
Fuck, gotta get him back, save him. Carson will know what to do, just give him time. Fuck, Ford. The hell were you thinking? Gonna kick your ass when this is over with. Soon as you're better and not insane.
Adrian Ford will most likely head towards the north if he knows that we are coming, though he is not thinking with clarity. He will make a mistake, and should we not be cautious, it shall cost us dearly.
---
Ronon could feel them both rising to consciousness.
The man's first thoughts were Shit, that wraith crap must…make people taller? Does that make sense? Why the hell not? Okay, and longer hair, that doesn't fit, but- "Ford?"
Ronon regarded him warily, and tried to listen. Behind him, the woman was thinking Please, John, please refrain from saying anything that will force his hand, as mine are bound, and so are yours, and I am still quite tired. Her voice in his head was buried, though, by the man's next voice.
Nope. Not Ford. Those eyes. This guy's hotter. Taller, too. Nice.
That was a stupid thing to point out, on a planet where even the sun can kill a man, Ronon thought, annoyed, and the man's eyes suddenly narrowed, just a fraction.
Fuck, did that guy just- did YOU just hear me, Chewbacca?
---
The extra voices in his head hurt. It became much worse, very quickly.
Shit. I'm so dead, I'm so dead, just hanging here- he's gonna tear my head off and claw my guts open and my brains are going to spill all over the ground like some sort of goddamn genius piñata, and wear my skin for clothes, buttons made of fingerbones and he's smiling at me WHY is he smiling oh shit he's bearing his teeth and here comes the knife-
The man's thoughts went blank, for an instant, once Ronon cut the cord, sending him crashing to the ground.
---
He went with them, through to the City of the Ancestors. It was real. It was amazing.
It was filled with a hundred different voices, all wanting to get in, and questions, they all had questions. The woman, Doctor Weir, asked only a fraction of them, and it was all Ronon could do to answer the right ones.
The noise didn't let up until two guards- both convinced he was an animal, and both prepared to kill him- led him to an otherwise empty room and shut the door.
Inside this room, it was nearly silent. They were trained to watch, observe, and prepare. Only the slightest stray thoughts emerged. They thought he wasn't fighting them because he was afraid. They didn't know it because this was as silent as his head had been all day.
John Sheppard was coming, and he already knew Ronon was listening.
--- --- ---
Okay, here's the deal John thought ahead, easing his way around the storm of thoughts in Ronon's head. I don't know why you can hear me, because nobody else EVER has. Those guys in there get wind of that, it's going to go bad for both of us. So we deal with this later, you got that?
Yes, John heard Ronon say, and John tried to push down the bizarre sensation that he was actually getting through.
It can wait, John decided, still surprised when he felt Ronon's agreement.
"How's it going?" John asked, aloud, because Briggs, one of the Marines, was starting to notice something was off.
"This place is impressive," Ronon looked around, purposefully appreciative. John felt the vein of attraction somewhere in there, which was kind of neat, and thankfully buried under a thousand different things like hope and curiosity.
"Ah, those Ancestors sure could build them."
"The guards are unnecessary."
I know they are. "Well, with your habit of taking people hostage and all…"
Not a habit. Accident. My gun's not often set to merely stun. "I meant, should I want to escape, they will not be able to stop me."
"Alright," John nodded, and could feel Ronon starting to tense, coiling in nervousness. He heard the question screaming loudly, even before it was asked.
"Did you manage to contact my home world?"
John almost slipped, then, almost thought about it. Ronon sensed a little of it, though, and the wariness wound through him like venom.
"Well," John said. "That's why I'm here.
---
It hurt, trying to keep thinking stay calm, all the way to the gate room. It was even worse, not knowing to whom, exactly, he was directing the thoughts.
It was worst when he directed Ronon to the screen, but then his thoughts didn't matter anymore. Ronon was hearing nothing. He didn't understand.
Outside, though, he was calm. Collected.
"This is Sateda?"
"I'm sorry," John said, and it felt so much like his own heart was breaking that he almost couldn't finish. "It doesn't look like anyone survived the last attack."
Inside, he was screaming too loud, didn't believe any of it, and was feeling the eyes of a hundred strangers on him. He couldn't breathe.
John couldn't, either.
He thought, watching Ronon leave with the guards, as they moved further away, deeper into the city, that the pain and the rage and the fear and the utter fucking desolation would fade with him.
It didn't. Inside, John was screaming for a planet he'd never even known. Ronon was just getting started.
---
"John? Are you not well?" Teyla asked him from his doorway, when he admitted that he didn't feel up to movie night, that he'd see her and McKay in the morning.
"Too much sun, too much in my head." With her, he could afford to be this close to honest. It was probably overdue, anyway. He hadn't been able to concentrate all evening. Couldn't eat at dinner, nearly punched McKay over anger that wasn't entirely his own.
He was exhausted, trying to block it all out and failing. "Think I'm just going to read a bit, turn in early, you know?" It fucking hurts. Everything.
Curious, slightly worried and deliberately patient, she eventually bowed her head with a warm smile that she didn't even know she was wearing. "It has been a long day. I hope you rest well, John."
"Thanks."
When she put her forehead to his, he imagined some of the pressure bleeding out through his skull and into hers, and then felt like an asshole for wishing it.
He should've dropped dead by now. It was hard to believe that it wasn't his heart that was broken and raging.
---
John couldn't go to him. Not like this. There was no hiding it, now, how much this was hitting him. People would notice. People would see. And this worked better in the dark, anyway.
He shut off the lights and lay down on the floor, the bed only offering paltry comfort. It didn't fucking matter.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time since Afghanistan, since that firefight he didn't think they'd survive, he concentrated on reaching out, trying to listen.
This time, though, it was different. Ronon heard him.
No, Ronon thought deliberately, but it was muddled, got lost in the emptiness.
I'm sorry. I really fucking am.
Your pity doesn't fix it. Doesn't change anything, Ronon thought back angrily.
John felt it like a punch. I know. And I really wish I knew what would. I just. I. Look. I don't know what I'm doing, here, or what the hell is going on. The only thing I know right know is what's going on in your head. I know you want to be left alone right now-
John was distracted by Ronon's attempts to bury his own reaction to the word alone, because that's all he'd been, and now that's all he'd ever be, and Sheppard's words didn't-
Hey! I didn't mean- I'm sorry. I know it sucks having me coming in here and making all this noise, and I'm not trying to invade your privacy or anything, but. I don't know how to control this.
You don't?
Never had to learn. You? Any ideas?
Never had to learn, Ronon echoed, and John could feel a thousand different nights on cold planets. Knew what it was like to be the only living thing on a world, and feel the hunters bearing down.
And as embarrassed as John was to be sensing it, Ronon's embarrassment at feeling it in the first place was worse.
John tried to ignore it, and Ronon tried to think about anything else. Neither were particularly successful.
John couldn't stop the stray realization from getting through. This could be dangerous. Atlantis. Protect-
Not gonna harm you or your people, Ronon replied.
John already knew that, he realized. For a few hours, now. Yeah. I know. Sorry. Just as he thought he was getting a handle on it, another accidental thought crossed his mind. This is a stupid way to meet a guy.
Distract me. More. Please. What Do You Mean?
Don't know, what it's like for you. But… I've never-oh man this sounds cheesy- not used to connecting like this. Both ways. Never had anyone talk back. It's weird.
Ronon felt it too, but they both tried to stop. It took a while.
Cheesy? What does that mean? Me neither, Ronon said, partially in reply, once the thoughts slowed down..
Silly. Kind of embarrassing. This is surreal. Like. I KNOW you. Weird.
Yeah, followed by too close, too much. Need. Stop. Ronon tried again. Sheppard. Too much. I'm tired. Want to sleep. Everything to go away. Can't.
I know, John replied. Against the floor, he felt heavy, listless. Out of ideas. Me neither. Maybe It'll fade when we sleep? I dunno. Never had to try before, but-
Suddenly, Ronon was afraid of that, he didn't want to be alone and didn't want John to know and was and trying to think of anything else. Flashing through a thousand different images, something that meant home, something that meant quiet, his mind unable to find a safe place to land.
He was getting wound up again. The anger was returning, warring with exhaustion. Ronon, shh.
What is that?
It means be quiet. Habit. Sorry. My- he tried not to think about his mother, but Ronon could hear him doing it, so he just tried to move along faster, push them past this point. Used to tell me that, to calm me down. And now I'm supposed to tell you that everything's going to be okay, but neither of us will believe me right now, so... John shrugged, feeling stupid.
It's been seven years since anyone's tried, Ronon realized, and John got a flash of something like irritation, but it passed quickly enough as another wave of embarrassment crested. This is weird. Sorry you're seeing all of this.
Sorry it happened.
Yeah.
For a while, things went a little quiet on Ronon's end, though John couldn't be sure it was his own idea to kill every wraith in the galaxy.
If those were the thoughts Ronon needed to sleep, John let him. He was fading out too. It might've been his own dream, anyway.
--- --- ---
Rating: PG
Fandom/Pairing: SGA (Sheppard/Dex preslash)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Genre: Ficlet written for hc_bingo for prompt "Telepathy (always there, but sudden trauma)"
A/N: Gah. This one was a complete pain in the ass, but I'm dead tired of looking at it. So here goes.
Ronon learned a lot, his first years running. How to hide, how to cover his tracks. Patience.
He forgot a few things, too. How to talk to people. He didn't get much practice.
The third or fourth year, he began to realize that he didn't have to. Figured that he could hear them, even from a mile away, watching from under the cover of trees.
The first time he heard another's thoughts, he was sure that he'd gone mad. The second time, another world, and he guessed that he was trying to make up for something he didn't want to think about lacking. Inventing comforting stories to remind himself that if those things down in the village over there were human, that he was, too.
The third time, he heard a mother calling for her son in her head, seconds before she voiced it, and didn't have the time to think about it at all, not until much later, because the wraith dart was heading straight for him, next.
He ran, and he didn't stop.
---
He knew how to avoid people, and he was better at it, now. He wasn't just able to avoid them with a much larger margin, now. He had to.
The thoughts of an entire village dying weren't meant to fit inside one head.
---
The wraith were the closest thing he had to human contact. Until the strangers appeared.
---
Fuck, gotta get him back, save him. Carson will know what to do, just give him time. Fuck, Ford. The hell were you thinking? Gonna kick your ass when this is over with. Soon as you're better and not insane.
Adrian Ford will most likely head towards the north if he knows that we are coming, though he is not thinking with clarity. He will make a mistake, and should we not be cautious, it shall cost us dearly.
---
Ronon could feel them both rising to consciousness.
The man's first thoughts were Shit, that wraith crap must…make people taller? Does that make sense? Why the hell not? Okay, and longer hair, that doesn't fit, but- "Ford?"
Ronon regarded him warily, and tried to listen. Behind him, the woman was thinking Please, John, please refrain from saying anything that will force his hand, as mine are bound, and so are yours, and I am still quite tired. Her voice in his head was buried, though, by the man's next voice.
Nope. Not Ford. Those eyes. This guy's hotter. Taller, too. Nice.
That was a stupid thing to point out, on a planet where even the sun can kill a man, Ronon thought, annoyed, and the man's eyes suddenly narrowed, just a fraction.
Fuck, did that guy just- did YOU just hear me, Chewbacca?
---
The extra voices in his head hurt. It became much worse, very quickly.
Shit. I'm so dead, I'm so dead, just hanging here- he's gonna tear my head off and claw my guts open and my brains are going to spill all over the ground like some sort of goddamn genius piñata, and wear my skin for clothes, buttons made of fingerbones and he's smiling at me WHY is he smiling oh shit he's bearing his teeth and here comes the knife-
The man's thoughts went blank, for an instant, once Ronon cut the cord, sending him crashing to the ground.
---
He went with them, through to the City of the Ancestors. It was real. It was amazing.
It was filled with a hundred different voices, all wanting to get in, and questions, they all had questions. The woman, Doctor Weir, asked only a fraction of them, and it was all Ronon could do to answer the right ones.
The noise didn't let up until two guards- both convinced he was an animal, and both prepared to kill him- led him to an otherwise empty room and shut the door.
Inside this room, it was nearly silent. They were trained to watch, observe, and prepare. Only the slightest stray thoughts emerged. They thought he wasn't fighting them because he was afraid. They didn't know it because this was as silent as his head had been all day.
John Sheppard was coming, and he already knew Ronon was listening.
--- --- ---
Okay, here's the deal John thought ahead, easing his way around the storm of thoughts in Ronon's head. I don't know why you can hear me, because nobody else EVER has. Those guys in there get wind of that, it's going to go bad for both of us. So we deal with this later, you got that?
Yes, John heard Ronon say, and John tried to push down the bizarre sensation that he was actually getting through.
It can wait, John decided, still surprised when he felt Ronon's agreement.
"How's it going?" John asked, aloud, because Briggs, one of the Marines, was starting to notice something was off.
"This place is impressive," Ronon looked around, purposefully appreciative. John felt the vein of attraction somewhere in there, which was kind of neat, and thankfully buried under a thousand different things like hope and curiosity.
"Ah, those Ancestors sure could build them."
"The guards are unnecessary."
I know they are. "Well, with your habit of taking people hostage and all…"
Not a habit. Accident. My gun's not often set to merely stun. "I meant, should I want to escape, they will not be able to stop me."
"Alright," John nodded, and could feel Ronon starting to tense, coiling in nervousness. He heard the question screaming loudly, even before it was asked.
"Did you manage to contact my home world?"
John almost slipped, then, almost thought about it. Ronon sensed a little of it, though, and the wariness wound through him like venom.
"Well," John said. "That's why I'm here.
---
It hurt, trying to keep thinking stay calm, all the way to the gate room. It was even worse, not knowing to whom, exactly, he was directing the thoughts.
It was worst when he directed Ronon to the screen, but then his thoughts didn't matter anymore. Ronon was hearing nothing. He didn't understand.
Outside, though, he was calm. Collected.
"This is Sateda?"
"I'm sorry," John said, and it felt so much like his own heart was breaking that he almost couldn't finish. "It doesn't look like anyone survived the last attack."
Inside, he was screaming too loud, didn't believe any of it, and was feeling the eyes of a hundred strangers on him. He couldn't breathe.
John couldn't, either.
He thought, watching Ronon leave with the guards, as they moved further away, deeper into the city, that the pain and the rage and the fear and the utter fucking desolation would fade with him.
It didn't. Inside, John was screaming for a planet he'd never even known. Ronon was just getting started.
---
"John? Are you not well?" Teyla asked him from his doorway, when he admitted that he didn't feel up to movie night, that he'd see her and McKay in the morning.
"Too much sun, too much in my head." With her, he could afford to be this close to honest. It was probably overdue, anyway. He hadn't been able to concentrate all evening. Couldn't eat at dinner, nearly punched McKay over anger that wasn't entirely his own.
He was exhausted, trying to block it all out and failing. "Think I'm just going to read a bit, turn in early, you know?" It fucking hurts. Everything.
Curious, slightly worried and deliberately patient, she eventually bowed her head with a warm smile that she didn't even know she was wearing. "It has been a long day. I hope you rest well, John."
"Thanks."
When she put her forehead to his, he imagined some of the pressure bleeding out through his skull and into hers, and then felt like an asshole for wishing it.
He should've dropped dead by now. It was hard to believe that it wasn't his heart that was broken and raging.
---
John couldn't go to him. Not like this. There was no hiding it, now, how much this was hitting him. People would notice. People would see. And this worked better in the dark, anyway.
He shut off the lights and lay down on the floor, the bed only offering paltry comfort. It didn't fucking matter.
He closed his eyes, and for the first time since Afghanistan, since that firefight he didn't think they'd survive, he concentrated on reaching out, trying to listen.
This time, though, it was different. Ronon heard him.
No, Ronon thought deliberately, but it was muddled, got lost in the emptiness.
I'm sorry. I really fucking am.
Your pity doesn't fix it. Doesn't change anything, Ronon thought back angrily.
John felt it like a punch. I know. And I really wish I knew what would. I just. I. Look. I don't know what I'm doing, here, or what the hell is going on. The only thing I know right know is what's going on in your head. I know you want to be left alone right now-
John was distracted by Ronon's attempts to bury his own reaction to the word alone, because that's all he'd been, and now that's all he'd ever be, and Sheppard's words didn't-
Hey! I didn't mean- I'm sorry. I know it sucks having me coming in here and making all this noise, and I'm not trying to invade your privacy or anything, but. I don't know how to control this.
You don't?
Never had to learn. You? Any ideas?
Never had to learn, Ronon echoed, and John could feel a thousand different nights on cold planets. Knew what it was like to be the only living thing on a world, and feel the hunters bearing down.
And as embarrassed as John was to be sensing it, Ronon's embarrassment at feeling it in the first place was worse.
John tried to ignore it, and Ronon tried to think about anything else. Neither were particularly successful.
John couldn't stop the stray realization from getting through. This could be dangerous. Atlantis. Protect-
Not gonna harm you or your people, Ronon replied.
John already knew that, he realized. For a few hours, now. Yeah. I know. Sorry. Just as he thought he was getting a handle on it, another accidental thought crossed his mind. This is a stupid way to meet a guy.
Distract me. More. Please. What Do You Mean?
Don't know, what it's like for you. But… I've never-oh man this sounds cheesy- not used to connecting like this. Both ways. Never had anyone talk back. It's weird.
Ronon felt it too, but they both tried to stop. It took a while.
Cheesy? What does that mean? Me neither, Ronon said, partially in reply, once the thoughts slowed down..
Silly. Kind of embarrassing. This is surreal. Like. I KNOW you. Weird.
Yeah, followed by too close, too much. Need. Stop. Ronon tried again. Sheppard. Too much. I'm tired. Want to sleep. Everything to go away. Can't.
I know, John replied. Against the floor, he felt heavy, listless. Out of ideas. Me neither. Maybe It'll fade when we sleep? I dunno. Never had to try before, but-
Suddenly, Ronon was afraid of that, he didn't want to be alone and didn't want John to know and was and trying to think of anything else. Flashing through a thousand different images, something that meant home, something that meant quiet, his mind unable to find a safe place to land.
He was getting wound up again. The anger was returning, warring with exhaustion. Ronon, shh.
What is that?
It means be quiet. Habit. Sorry. My- he tried not to think about his mother, but Ronon could hear him doing it, so he just tried to move along faster, push them past this point. Used to tell me that, to calm me down. And now I'm supposed to tell you that everything's going to be okay, but neither of us will believe me right now, so... John shrugged, feeling stupid.
It's been seven years since anyone's tried, Ronon realized, and John got a flash of something like irritation, but it passed quickly enough as another wave of embarrassment crested. This is weird. Sorry you're seeing all of this.
Sorry it happened.
Yeah.
For a while, things went a little quiet on Ronon's end, though John couldn't be sure it was his own idea to kill every wraith in the galaxy.
If those were the thoughts Ronon needed to sleep, John let him. He was fading out too. It might've been his own dream, anyway.
--- --- ---