fic: 'Wrong Kind Of Guy' - Part Nine [PG-13]

[tielan]

TITLE: Wrong Kind Of Guy (Part Nine)
SUMMARY: Now, she had no idea what was wrong.
CATEGORY: crackfic, high school AU for shermer_high
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: I have decided that this fandom breeds the crack liek whoa. I don't know why it is, or why it should be, but it does. My non-crackfic plotbunnies have to fight to get headspace. (Plotbunny Deathmatch!) It's mad, bad, and really rather sad. But I'm going to be good and no more crackfic for a while. No, really, I am! *keeps telling herself that.

At any rate, this story is entirely finished and will be posted in parts according to when I can access the computer in the next week.

Part Eight

Wrong Kind Of Guy (Part Nine)

She didn't hear from Ronon all weekend.

It bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

Most of all, she worried over his desire for secrecy about whatever he was doing, as well as his admission of being involved with gangs. Elizabeth's imagination could paint all kinds of situations, few of them good. And the rumours she'd heard about Ronon, combined with what he'd said on Friday night, only made things worse.

By Monday morning, she was looking anxiously for him among the sea of her fellow students.

"Liz?" Kate Heightmeyer paused by her as she was trying to see down the senior locker corridor. "What happened to your cheek?"

The bruise had gone a lovely purplish-green colour, and no amount of make-up was going to hide it. "I got caught in a fight on Friday night," she said. "Have you seen Ronon today?"

Kate seemed surprised. "We haven't even had homeroom, yet."

Elizabeth turned away from the corridor as the bell rung. She'd hunt Ronon down later. Maybe during morning break?

At morning break, however, she was cornered by not one, but four of her classmates who wanted to know the story about her cheek. In reality, they wanted an excuse to air their theories about how she'd gotten the bruise.

"I heard that you got it in a fight!"

"Was it true that Mark Lorne and Ronon Dex were fighting over you?"

"Was it Teyla? I've heard she knows how to kill someone in less than a minute!"

"Didn't you have any make-up to cover it? It looks really awful, you know."

Elizabeth managed to get away from them through a combination of put-offs and promises that she hardly heard, citing that she had to speak with Teyla and, no, her cheek had nothing to do with Mark Lorne, and she did have makeup, she just didn't want to wear it...

"God," she exclaimed when she finally dumped her bag next to Teyla. "I should have stayed home sick!"

"It is noticeable," the other girl observed as she peeled her orange. "Perhaps I should not have hit you so hard." An impish smile flashed briefly on the tanned features, and Elizabeth groaned.

"The grapevine around here is horrible," she said. "This is worse than when John and I were fighting!" Pulling out her snack, she glanced around the lawn. "Have you seen Ronon today?"

Teyla shook her head. "Not yet," she admitted. "Although I have not been looking for him as you have." She regarded Elizabeth solemnly. "You have not spoken to him this weekend?"

"No. I left a message on his cellphone on Sunday, but I haven't heard back."

"Perhaps you should ask Mark or John if he was at homeroom today?"

"If I can find them," Elizabeth murmured. "Teyla, do you have any idea what Ronon was going to do?"

"No," said Teyla as she stripped the fruit of the white pith with neat, economical movements. "But he considered it dangerous enough to wish us well away from it."

Elizabeth shot her a flat look. "That's not encouraging."

Her friend's answer was even less salutory as she tried to shake a strand of pith from her finger. "I did not mean it to be." Teyla broke the orange into segments over the grass, letting the juices drip away, then offered a wedge to Elizabeth.

She declined, focused on other things. "Do you know where I could find Mark?"

"Somewhere in the school grounds?" Elizabeth mock-scowled at Teyla, who just laughed. "I would suggest that you try the seniors' lawn."

"Fine. I will!"

Mark wasn't on the seniors lawn, although John was in the middle of an argument with someone over a ruling in a football game.

"...no way that should have been a forward pass. Did you see the angle of it?" He glanced up. "Hey, Liz, what's up?"

She ignored the nudges and smirks of John's crowd and the long, hard look Chaya Sar gave her from where the exchange student sat with her cheek next to John's shoulder. Instead, she went straight to the point. "John, have you seen Ronon?"

Someone choked. John just gave them a long stare, then turned back to her. "Not since Friday."

Damn. "Do you know if he was in homeroom?"

John shrugged, apparently unconcerned. He could have shown a little worry! "We don't share homeroom."

"He wasn't in Shop class," Chad Rollins offered. "Probably off sick today."

The news didn't seem to bother John, and she met his eyes for a few seconds, then nodded. Her smile was brief and felt more than a little fake. "Thanks." Elizabeth turned and began to walk away.

She didn't get much further than the edge of the lawn before she heard someone calling after her. "Hey, Liz, wait!"

John jogged up to her. "I said wait!"

"I'm waiting," she said. "What is it?"

If he'd been insouciant before with all his hangers-on around him, he was serious now. "Look, on Friday, Ronon said he might be away for a day or two this week to get things sorted out."

"He didn't tell me." That hurt.

"Well, maybe he thought you were better off out of it."

Elizabeth wondered whether Ronon had thought she'd be better out of it, or whether John had thought she'd be better out of it.

"John, whatever he's doing involves gangs that are tough enough to take on Kolya and his friends," she said. "It's dangerous."

"Yeah," John said. "But he can handle himself."

Elizabeth couldn't help a cynical snort. "A week ago, you were sure he had a criminal record."

"A week ago, I was angry," John retorted. A slight flush tinged his cheeks - it seemed he was at least a little embarrassed by his stupidity of last week, which was something. "Look, he doesn't want you involved in what he's doing."

"And that's why he told you?"

"Well, I actually demanded he tell me."

'Demanded' implied that he'd used some kind of force or leverage to get Ronon to comply. "Or what?"

John looked sheepish. "Or I said I'd set your parents against him."

"You what?" Her exclamation drew the attention of most of the seniors on the lawn, but Elizabeth was beyond caring. Even after she told him that he had no say in her personal life, he continued to interfere. "John Sheppard, you are the most arrogant, egotistical, self-centred idiot I have ever had the misfortune to know!"

His eyes narrowed, although he almost looked amused. "Is that including Rodney or not?"

Exasperation lifted her hand to slap him, but John held up his hand ready to catch her if she tried. "Okay, okay - look, I needed to know and he didn't need much persuasion--"

"You mean blackmail!"

"--persuasion to tell me."

Right now, her palm was persuasively itching to slap him. "God, you're a bastard sometimes, John."

He took the insult with more calm than she'd expected. "It takes more effort than most people think," he told her. "Look, Ronon's probably just away sick today. You can message him or something if you want to check up on him."

"I already have."

"And?"

"Nothing."

John didn't seem to have any issues with the silence on that front. "So he's probably fine."

"Fine?"

"Yep."

Elizabeth gave him a scathing look and stalked away, privately wishing she could be half so positive about it.

--

She sent Ronon an SMS at lunch and waited for an answer. By dinner, she still didn't have a response.

Elizabeth sat in her room that night and fretted as she did her homework.

It was more than not being told what he was doing. It was the lack of contact - she'd heard nothing from him in four days. That was unprecedented.

And you have so much precedent when it comes to Ronon Dex!

Elizabeth squashed her misgivings, forcing herself to work through her Ancient History notes as the evening passed, but when it came to English Lit, she stared, unseeing, at the pages of the book for nearly half an hour.

Tuesday began as a repeat of Monday, except that Elizabeth trudged through her morning classes, the world of academia a chore instead of the joy it usually was.

Then she got to English Lit.

She sat down at her desk and turned to him. "Where've you been all weekend?"

Ronon glanced up from the drawing on his notepaper, met her gaze for a second, hovered on the multicoloured bruise on her cheek, then looked back down again. "Busy. Like I said." And he went back to drawing.

Irked by the terse answer, Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "You didn't answer any of my messages."

Dark eyes flickered up to her again. "I know. I said I was busy."

"Yesterday, too?"

There was the slightest of hesitations. "Yesterday, too."

Something was wrong. He was reticent, withdrawn as he hadn't been since the second day he walked her home. Then, it had been something she'd said. Now... Now, she had no idea what was wrong.

"Are you okay?"

Another glance. "Fine."

And that was all.

Confused, Elizabeth turned back to her desk as Mr. O'Neill sauntered in for the class. She'd just opened up her folder when Ronon asked, "Are you okay? After Friday?"

Since Mr. O'Neill had halted at the door and was talking with Ms. Carter, Elizabeth turned around to answer the question, pleased that he was inquiring. But she found Ronon watching her, his gaze lingering on her cheekbone before moving back up to her eyes. There was no smile, no warmth from him at all - none of the teasing of the last month's friendship. It was as though she was talking to a stranger.

Her answer was short and piqued, and came with a shrug. "I'm fine." He wasn't the only one who could play nonchalant. "Thanks for asking." It sounded light and careless to her ears - exactly the kind of response she wanted to give.

Ronon nodded once, and Elizabeth turned back to the front as Mr. O'Neill came in and laid his notes down on the desk. "Right," he said, with a cheerfulness that was almost malicious. "Who read the homework?"

Hands went up, Elizabeth's among them.

"Who made notes?"

Elizabeth doubted that Mr. O'Neill would consider, 'This poem is about a highwayman,' as notes per se. But she kept her hand up anyway. It was practically expected of her.

"Wonderful," said the teacher. "So, is anyone going to offer up the themes of the poem, or am I going to have to pick on someone?" He rolled his eyes when the room fell silent, nobody willing to volunteer to suggest anything. The teacher shook his head. "Just you wait until we get to Charge of the Light Brigade and I get you all up out of your chairs to act the poem out."

Elizabeth decided that Mr. O'Neill definitely had a malicious side to him.

But nobody was willing to go first.

O'Neill got up from his perch on the desk and looked around the classroom. "Okay. Everyone stick their tongue out."

They tittered and stared at him, astonished by the request - but not half as astonished as they were when he poked his tongue out at them. "Come on! Tongues out! Everyone. Yes, Kyle, everyone. Tongues out!" He pointed a finger at one boy whose tongue was bright red. "Michael, has anyone ever told you that red Kool-Aid rots your teeth?"

Michael grinned. "Everything does."

"True, but Kool-Aid does it faster than most. Does everyone have their tongues out?" O'Neill looked around the room. "Good. Now that we've proven that you should all have the basic equipment for speech--" There were assorted fragments of laughter through the classroom as they realised what he'd been doing, "--and given how much noise you were making out in the courtyard this morning - Chad, I could hear you bellowing from the teachers' lounge - I know you're capable of speaking, how about someone pick a theme and we'll talk about it?"

One of the girls across the room shifted in her chair and suggested, "Jellybeans?"

Mr. O'Neill gave her a sour look. "Erica, have I ever mentioned that you have a smart mouth on you?"

Erica grinned, unabashed. "Yes, sir."

He muttered something about his sins, then continued louder. "How about you suggest a theme relating to the poem?"

"Loyalty."

O'Neill pointed a finger at her. "Good. I forgive you for being a smartass. At least this time around. Loyalty." Silence. He rolled his eyes at them. "Speak up, kids, I can't hear that discussion happening yet!"

Elizabeth pressed the book open, skimming the lines of the poem again. She hadn't read it properly last night, her eyes and mind refusing to focus. She took a few moments to familiarise herself with the style and subject of the poem.

"Okay, fine," said Tammy Gilmore huffily, as though O'Neill had specifically required her to answer. "Am I the only one who thinks it was, like, dumb of her to shoot herself? I mean, he died anyway, so it was totally useless in the end anyway!"

"But we're not talking about whether or not it was useful," said Chad Rollins, frowning. "She was showing loyalty to her man." There were assorted snorts and sour expressions from some of the students.

"She was showing stupidity," Tammy retorted. "Like, who lets themselves be killed for a guy these days? What a doormat!"

Some of the girls were nodding in agreement.

"I don't know," said Erica from across the room. "I thought it was pretty brave of her to do what she did."

"It was romantic," John Charlwood mocked.

Erica turned on him. "Well, I don't know," she said. "Would you be making fun of it if it had been one guy standing up for another?"

"It would still be romantic - just gay," muttered someone from the back of the class to a few giggles.

"What about the highwayman?"

Elizabeth turned in her seat so she only had to turn her head a little way to see Ronon. "What about him?"

Ronon addressed the answer to her rather than the rest of the class, although he still wouldn't meet her gaze for more than a couple of seconds. "He came back for her, too. That's loyalty."

"Not that it did either of them much good," someone else commented, while Elizabeth tried to remember how to breathe. The look in his eyes burned.

"No," Chad was saying, triumphantly. "But it's not just the girl who let herself be killed for the guy." He glared at Tammy who glared back.

"Well, that was stupid, too," she declared.

Irritated by the other girl's attitude and still unsettled by Ronon's reticence, Elizabeth kept her voice bright and vacuous as she replied, "Well, at least we'll know not to trust your loyalty when it comes down to the line, Tammy."

The look the girl shot her was venomous, but a few of the other girls were amused. If there was a Queen Bee at Shermer, Tammy was it - and almost all the girls had been stung by her at some time or another.

"Ladies," Mr. O'Neill said. There was a quiet warning in his voice and in the hard look he gave Elizabeth. If she took it any further, then she'd be in big trouble.

Elizabeth was tempted to take it further. She didn't.

"Ignoring the question of who sacrificed for who, isn't it as much about love as loyalty?" Kate Heightmeyer asked.

"What?" John Charlwood turned in his chair. "Love is all about letting yourself be killed?"

"Maybe when no other option presents itself," Kate argued.

John snorted. "He had options when he heard about her death and went back."

"Yeah, but she didn't when the soldiers came."

"So you're saying that her death was useful while his was pointless?"

"He went back for her, knowing she was probably dead," Brianne replied. "And he probably knew he was going to die, too."

"So why'd he go back?"

"I don't know, maybe he cared about her!"

Ronon put his pen down and sat back. "It cost him his life."

"That doesn't change that he cared about her," Katerina Bishop said, frowning. "And weren't you the one who said that he was loyal to her, too?"

Elizabeth saw the shrug as Ronon sat forward and picked up his pen again. "Yeah. And the guy was loyal to her. It still cost him his life. And her."

Tammy snorted. "It was still stupid of him to go back for her."

Erica levelled a sour look at Tammy. "So loyalty equals stupidity now?"

"Loyalty costs," Elizabeth said, loud enough for most of the class to hear.

"So is love worth that loyalty?" Ronon murmured as he began sketching away again. Elizabeth watched him for a moment, but he didn't look away from his drawing.

She turned back to the class when Brianne spoke. "The highwayman must have thought so."

"As did Bess."

"Yes," Mr. O'Neill said. "As did Bess." Something about his voice - or maybe the way he spoke - stopped the discussion. "While you've brought up some very interesting points, I'd like you to focus on Bess for a while, class. Although the poem is about the highwayman, it's Bess who initiates most of the action in the poem, one way or the other. Take out your books and read through the poem again and make notes on the descriptions used for her. How does the poet speak about her and what kinds of words does he use?"

The rest of the lesson was spent taking notes and arguing over the phrasings of the poem.

Elizabeth didn't offer much for this section of the class.

Ronon didn't offer anything at all.

- TBC -

Part Ten