5 years.
5 years have passed since Dr. Elizabeth Weir's 'retirement'. 5 years since Earth became home again. Since Georgetown became her world and military affairs were traded for student affairs. The beautiful campus was pristine and, in a sense, welcoming. Everything was right—and wrong. From where she lived to how she lived. Her life was—for lack of a better word—nice.
Elizabeth hated it.
Not that she would admit it to her students, to her boss, to her neighbors. No, to them she smiled and went about her daily business. She had friends and co-workers, was admired by her students—everything she wanted before Atlantis. But now, now Elizabeth wished she could trade it for the high windows and arching doors of the city she left behind. She wanted to juggle military crisis's and negotiations, not term papers and finances. But this was her life now, Georgetown, an air Victorian home just off campus and Sedge and Sheppard. She took Sedge back from Simon almost the moment her send-off from SGC was finished. She hadn't meant to buy the second dog, but she had been walking Sedge when she stopped in front of a pet shop and refused to move. So she looked inside and saw the black puppy that didn't jump up and down when he saw her but looked at her carefully. The second Elizabeth held out her hand though, the puppy jumped up and down. Painfully reminded of someone she felt she abandoned, Elizabeth bought the puppy and named him Sheppard.
The two dogs were fast friends, old and new. And they went everywhere with her. Sometimes, when there was a particularly boring or sad lesson in her Political Science class, Sheppard and Sedge would come to class to lighten up the mood. The students loved them both, sometimes Elizabeth accused them of taking her class so they could play with the dogs. The students said that was only half the reason they took her class.
The sun played across her face as she made her way across campus towards her class. Red still dominated her wardrobe, this time a black pantsuit was capped with a red beret and coat. She doubted she would ever break the habit of wearing red. Arriving with almost thirty minuets to spare, she walked down the lecture-style hall to the podium and placed her briefcase down, before carefully hiding her coat and hat near the desk. Finding her notes for the class, Elizabeth placed them carefully on the podium and turned to the white-board behind her.
'Military vs. Civilian' was today's lecture. She hung her head, feeling the tug deep inside her. The marker became too heavy to hold and she let her hand drop down. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and forced the sadness down. It would mean they won, if she cried, and she would not let that happen. Swiping at the few errant tears with the back of her free hand, she opened her eyes and lifted the marker, beginning to write again.
She heard someone shuffle in quietly and smiled. Probably an early student, she imagined she'd hear the pupil walk away in a moment. She turned her head and felt something cold take over her body, standing in her classroom looking more like he belonged than she thought possible was Ronon Dex.
Five years had changed him very little, there were a few new scars on his arms and a few fine lines around his eyes and mouth. His skin was still as tan as she remembered and he was still just as imposing. Dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt he stood tall and proud. Slung over one shoulder was a dark brown leather jacket, in his other hand was a black sling-style backpack. His dreadlocks were pulled back firmly. But when he met her gaze, he met it proudly. Several heartbeats passed before she found her voice.
"Ronon?" she asked, disbelieving.
"Dr. Weir," he stated simply dropping the backpack and jacket in a chair.
"What are you doing here?" she asked approaching him hesitantly, "my class—"
"We have important things to discuss," he cut her off.
"Ronon," she sighed, remembering just how frustrating dealing with the warrior could be, "Ronon I'm not associated with the Stargate program or Atlantis anymore," she continued, "you know that."
"I do," he said, "and I do not believe it."
"It's been five years since I set foot in Atlantis, I don't know how much clearer it could be," she said, exasperation creeping into her voice. She was not the perfect diplomat anymore, her poker face had been damaged, she had been damaged, "what could you have gotten security clearance to tell me?"
"I have no security clearance myself," Ronon said easily.
Giving him a less-than-pleased look, she tugged the zipper on the backpack down and pulled out a package wrapped in dark cloth. She raised her eyebrows and looked from him to the package. The cloth was silky and held in place by a dark silver tie. It seemed to be designed specifically for holding whatever was inside. Pulling back the tie, she unfolded the cloth and looked back up at him in confusion. In her hand she held a flat silver device, like a thin piece of slightly translucent metal. Attached to one edge was a stylus. She opened her mouth and closed it, looking at the device again. The metal was cold to the touch. She touched it lightly with her thumb. When she lifted her finger, an impression of her thumbprint was left on the metal. It faded away quickly, the device as smooth as a slate.
"What is this?" she asked finally.
"This is a Satedan data pad," he said, "capable of communications over long distances—even galaxy's."
"Ronon," Elizabeth said patiently folding the device up again, "I left the Atlantis expedition a long time ago. I am not associated with it in any way," she bit her lower lip slightly, "whatever problem you have, the military is in charge of it."
Ronon nodded and for a heartbeat, Elizabeth assumed that he was going to let it go, take the data pad back and leave so she could get on with her class. That was not happening, Ronon made no move to leave. In fact, if she didn't know better, Elizabeth would say he was laughing at her. Ronon sat back and crossed his feet on the chair in front of her. On the door of the lecture center was a piece of paper saying that class was canceled. He was taking no chance, some part of Elizabeth was coming back with him. He had to make this better—or at the very least worth the large amount of trouble was going to be in upon his return.
"Atlantis has been militarized," he said, the first hint of anger coming into his voice "in every sense of the word," he stood up abruptly, causing even Elizabeth to move backwards in surprise, "I stayed with the operation because I thought you people would make the galaxy better, not try to conquer it!"
Elizabeth's stunned mind refused to comprehend the words Ronon had just said. Every part of her screamed that she was an idiot to think that they would keep Atlantis a diplomatic operation. She had truly thought that when she left Atlantis would remain a diplomatic operation, one for exploration and peace. Disappointment surged through her at the thought of people like the Athosians who had helped them being ruthlessly conquered. Closing her eyes against the tears that had started, she ducked her head and tried to keep the image of Major Lorne standing by a group of slaves at bay. Seeing Elizabeth's reaction Ronon softened slightly and sat down in front of the woman he still considered his leader. Slowly, he extended a hand and laid it on top of her own.
"How bad?" she asked, her voice choked slightly.
"Bad," he said, not one to lie, "The Athosians have abandoned the city. The men have already conquered man worlds and are working on more."
"Teyla," Elizabeth sighed, "if we're treating the Athosians so badly—"
"Teyla's about to leave," Ronon said letting his hand drop, "Truthfully I don't know why she stayed as long as she did. But she's leaving now, I think she'll be gone by the time I return."
"What about John?" she asked, anger creeping into her voice, "why isn't he stopping this?"
"John is—" Ronon searched his vocabulary for a word to describe what John had become—or, rather, a word that would not get him smacked, "ah," he said finally, "John is—broken?" the word came out more as a question than a statement.
"Broken?" Elizabeth repeated, stunned.
"Yes—" Ronon paused, "John is broken. After you left, things became bad quickly. Teyla is about to leave, even Major Lorne has begun to vocally disagree. Rodney and Radek do not speak to anyone unless necessary—Rodney has left the team. Carson appears to be trying to transfer now as well."
"Who's in charge? Is it still Caldwell?" she asked, trying to change the topic, this one was far too painful.
"Yes," Ronon said, "but I do not think he is making the decisions," she opened her mouth so he continued, "Colonel Caldwell seems to think what we're doing is wrong. But he does it anyway. I can hear him argue sometimes, but no-one's in the room. Rodney thinks SGC has developed a long-range communications device that they use to speak to Colonel Caldwell. But he is not sure. Radek seems to believe the theory."
Elizabeth nodded, her mind reeling. If Caldwell was obeying orders he was against, then someone high up in SGC was pulling the strings and whoever that was had some plan. Elizabeth mentally cut herself off and sighed, she there was no scheme, it was probably instinct talking. Silently she re-wrapped the data pad and handed it over to Ronon before getting to her feet. Ronon's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. He picked up the data pad, walked down to the podium and placed it on it. He then turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing in the corridor. Elizabeth sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She turned and walked to the podium, picking up the data pad carefully. Pulling it open, she froze.
Sitting on top of the data pad was a picture.
She couldn't help but grin at the sight, though her eyes were rapidly filling with tears. They were all there, from the lowest maintenance person to John. Even Caldwell was in the picture. It hadn't been a special occasion or even the end of a mission. The Daedalus had been heading back to Earth and it would hit their home galaxy around the holidays. Someone thought to take a picture. Nothing that would give anything away, but something to let their families know they were safe. So they had crowded in the control room and angled it so the Gate was not in the picture. Then they had grinned and someone from the ship had taken the picture. Wiping her eyes she put the picture next to the data pad and gasped. Words were quickly forming along the surface.
Dr. Weir,
Please,
the city cannot survive like this and I fear soon we will have to pay
with more than blood. I am asking you to help, not as a leader but
as a friend.
Tap once for no
Twice for yes
Elizabeth picked up the stylus with slightly shaking hands. At the top of the stairs, her students began to file into the classroom. Back home, Sedge and Sheppard were rolling around. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and a million miles away, John Sheppard was wondering how he had gotten into this mess. Gripping the stylus, Elizabeth tapped the device twice quickly before turning to her students. On the pad, her quick message to Ronon was fading off to his data pad.
As a friend
What
can I do?
Data Pad communications are in Italics
