Stories (to be Shared) (SGA fanfic)
Title: Stories (to be Shared)
Rating: PG/PG-13? Language is all.
Pairing: Cadman/Ronon
Disclaimer: I'm poor, I own nothing, yadayadayada.
AN: A while ago I was considering the idea of trying to write every pairing for SGA. I guess it's still a thought. While writing this I realized how good these two would actually probably work.
Summary: “Ronon!” she calls, standing up on painfully shaky legs. “What the hell are you doing here?” He looks at her, and something in his dark eyes sends a tremble up her body, but she is long past listening to judgment and continues over to him.
…Stories (to be Shared)…
She sits in the mess hall, legs up on the bench, back pressed up against the wall as she struggles to breathe past the ache. She is miles away, on another planet, watching a friend die because she’s too slow, and all can feel is her heart break, and all she can hear is his screams.
“Sheppard seems to think quite a lot of you.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m thought-provoking! I’m sorry, though, we haven’t been formerly introduced-”
“Ronon Dex.”
“Well, I know that. I meant that I’m-”
“Lieutenant Cadman.”
“…Laura, please.”
There isn’t a world of coffee that can wake her up, for she is caught securely in a web of her own thoughts, and boiling next to the pain is a hatred that is miles deep and a bitterness that has no end in sight.
“So…I hear that you’re pretty tough. Care for a match?”
“A match? You mean a lesson.”
“Listen, tough guy, when I say a match I mean a match!” She smiles slightly. “Just stop when I start screaming, mmkay?”
She takes another gulp of coffee, scalding her mouth and throat but she is so close to numb she can barely feel the sting, and vaguely she wonders if she can score some whiskey off some of the marines because that would burn in all the right ways and a little pain has never sounded so good…
He walks in and she changes her mind abruptly, easily. Nothing like beating the shit out of something to clear her head.
“Admit it.”
“Cadman-”
“Admit it! You underestimated me!”
“I won every single match!”
“Yes, but I did better than you thought I would.”
“…I don’t see how that could matter.”
“It does. To me.”
“Then yes. A mistake I won’t make again.”
“Ronon!” she calls, standing up on painfully shaky legs. “What the hell are you doing here?” He looks at her, and something in his dark eyes sends a tremble up her body, but she is long past listening to judgment and continues over to him.
“Cadman.” When he says her name it changes form and depth and rolls in his mouth as if it were melting chocolate, becoming a response and a question and a connection all at once, and she almost stumbles under the weight of his eyes.
“So you ever dance?”
“Dance?”
“Oh, please, I’m sure they had something like that on your planet! A little moving, a little shaking, a little music?”
“I didn’t have time for those types of diversions.”
“But you do now, right? I mean, I’m sure Sheppard doesn’t keep you busy all the time, right?”
“Cadman-”
“What is it so terribly hard about my name? Laur-a. Lau-ra. Looooooo-raaaaaa.”
“Laura-”
“That’s the spirit! Come on, I’ll teach you.”
She shoves him, her anger and pain giving her strength that should have remained hidden-strength from bitterness and misery and life. He catches her arms easily, but when she has her mind set on something she is not so easily deterred. She kicks out with her leg, throws her weight forward and he stumbles backwards and falls, dragging her down with him. Around them, dishes clatter to the ground and people turn to look but he is already rolling over, pinning her beneath him and she is striking at him with a desperation that is inches away from tears.
“You never ask me…” he falls silent, and she looks at him with a question in her eyes, a smile on her lips, prompting him to continue. They continue to walk for another minute in silence until he turns to face her, dark eyes full of emotion. “You never ask me about my past.” She shrugs, trying for careless but with too many sleepless nights of her own to play the part well.
“Your past is your past…if you need to talk, I’m here, but I’ve got enough bad memories to know that some wounds are better left alone.”
“Laura,” he whispers, voice rough and wild as the ocean pounding against the city-“Laura, listen to me.” The dam inside of her is shaking under the pressure and he grabs her in his arms, a shared desperation for privacy and peace, a need for fresh air and the smell of salt, and he growls wordlessly at the staring crowd, the gaping onlookers, until they step backwards-tripping in their hurry to look away.
She’s sitting on the balcony when he comes out, muscles rippling in the sleeveless shirt, breath coming quickly from the run. She laughs softly as he wipes his brow and looks at her in consternation.
“Shortcut,” she shrugs, watching his eyes darken in sudden annoyance until he gives in to her smile. He sits down next to her, movements smooth and graceful, and when she lies down on the sun-warmed ground he follows suit. They share long moments like these, silent yet heavy with thoughts, her smile and his eyes the only words they need.
“She was beautiful,” he says at last, and tells her the story of his wife.
And tells her the story of that life.
When they reach the balcony she has given up the fight, given up the anger, and is holding him desperately, face buried against his chest, fingernails digging into his skin.
When they reach the balcony he sits down and cradles her against his chest, and whispers her name over and over again, rocking her slowly, finding inside himself a need to protect and cherish and love that he thought had been long lost.
“Laura,” he whispers, and she cries and finds her way home through his words, through his voice. He holds her until she stops crying, and then when she starts again, and then when she finally stops at last. By this time he’s lying flat on the ground, and she is curled up beside him. Her breathing is uneven and her hair is wet and plastered to her cheeks, but his arms are wrapped around her and her face is burrowed into his chest.
“He was my friend,” she says at last, and tells him the story of the fight.
And he holds her tightly through the night.
Finis