Remembrance

Missing scene for "Reunion"

The cool, quietness of Atlantis' long corridors did nothing to settle John any. It was late. He should be sleeping. But instead he was wandering through the city – no particular destination in mind, just wandering. He sighed. In the past few weeks, sleep had been a daunting task… ever since the attack on the Replicator home world and the events that followed….

He dropped his head, although he kept walking. Elizabeth. The pain in his gut that had started with Elizabeth's injury had only intensified the last moment he'd seen her. She had been surrounded by Replicators, and the fear in her expression had been tempered only by a note of determination… and a command to him to escape. He pushed the thoughts aside, but he suspected his sleeplessness had a lot to do with them. Colonel Carter's answer had been direct: no suicide missions; come up with a feasible plan, even if it's a long shot. Her answer reminded him a lot of the one Elizabeth had given him when he'd insisted on rescuing Sumner and their people. He'd lost Sumner, but found a way to bring back the others, including Teyla…. And, if Elizabeth was alive, he'd find a way to bring her back too.

His thoughts stalled as a muffled thump reached his ears. He stopped in his tracks, his gaze narrowing as he looked around the quiet hallway. Another thump grabbed his attention and he turned, his gaze fixing down a dark, adjacent hallway. A small alarm quietly sounded inside him.

He started down the hallway towards the sound, which echoed around him again. "What the hell?"

As he slowly headed along the corridor towards the southwest pier, the regular thumps grew louder and morphed into sharp cracks. Before long, a shout, strained with emotion, joined them. John picked up the pace, breaking into a jog as his internal alarm grew more insistent. He stopped just outside two large doors and listened for another moment.

"ARA!"

John flinched reflexively as another earsplitting blow followed the shout. Without hesitation, he swiped his hand over the door crystal and quickly stepped inside the room. What he saw froze him in his tracks.

Except for the flickering of at least a dozen candles, the room was dark. At the far end, illuminated by the dim, golden light, stood Ronon, his arms over his head and hands clutching a long, metal staff. In front of him, a nearly destroyed Ancient column showed the beating he had given it. He appeared to be oblivious to John's intrusion, but in his gut, John knew better.

John stared at Ronon for a moment, before he looked around. Far out on the reaches of the southwest pier, this room still bore the storm damage inflicted on it over two years ago. John returned his attention to Ronon as the Satedan's gaze slowly moved away from the column and up to meet his.

Feeling more than a little awkward for intruding, John grimaced before trying a small, half smile. "Sorry, thought someone was in trouble. I'll just be going now…" He headed for the door, only to be stopped by Ronon's voice.

"Sheppard."

Still facing the door, John turned his head. "Yeah?"

"You don't have to go."

John's gaze narrowed. In the time he'd known Ronon, he'd become pretty adept at interpreting the few and sometimes ambiguous words that he uttered. In his own way, Ronon was asking John to stay, but still giving him the option to leave.

Smiling slightly, John's nod was almost imperceptible. He faced Ronon. "Okay." Curious as to what, exactly, his Satedan friend was up to, John still curbed the questions he wanted to ask. But Ronon must've sensed it all the same.

"Honoring the dead," he said quietly, his arms never moving.

"Ah." John's brows furrowed. "Ara and Rakai? I know I don't have to tell you this, but they betrayed you, big guy."

Again, Ronon looked up, his intense expression never wavering. "My friends died the moment they were captured…. All of them."

John stared at him a moment longer before he looked away and sighed quietly. "Yeah, I guess they did." His gaze again found Ronon.

"Ten peals to herald their arrival in the afterlife," Ronon explained quietly. "One peal for each of the fallen." Tensing, he clenched his teeth and brought the staff down with a thunderous crack. "RAKAI!" He twirled the staff expertly, spinning it and bringing it over his head in a great arc before slamming it down on the column again. "HEMI!"

Slowly he straightened anddropped the staff, the clatter as it hit the floor echoing in the large room. Reaching behind his back, he pulled his knife and, without hesitation, drew it across his palm.

John stiffened. "Whoa!"

But Ronon, never flinching, looked up at him as he slowly wiped his bloody palm across the battered column. "The blood of the living. To prove their worthiness."

Still tense, John pursed his lips but nodded slightly. He couldn't deny the shock of seeing Ronon inflict a knife wound on himself but, as he stared at the committed intensity in Ronon's eyes, he fought down his instincts. Clearly, this was the Satedan way, at least for her warriors, and no matter what he thought, he respected Ronon too much to let his own feelings interfere. In a way, he felt honored to be included in something Ronon had, apparently, resigned himself to doing alone.

Ronon stepped back from the column and bowed his head silently.

Following his lead, John did the same, only lifting his head when he heard Ronon move. He watched as the Satedan pulled a small bandage out of his pocket and proceeded to wrap it around his hand. John smiled slightly. Walking to him, he took over dressing the wound. "Came prepared huh?"

"Knew I'd need it."

John nodded as he finished tying the ends of the bandage. Dropping his hands, he looked up at Ronon's impassive expression. "You okay, big guy?"

Ronon was still for another long moment before he nodded slightly. "Will be." He turned away from John and sat on another piece of rubble. Reaching under his hair, he untied a leather thong that hung around his neck. He held it for a moment, his fingers brushing over each of the small knots tied in it.

John sat down quietly next to him. He stared at Ronon's hands for a minute, before looking up at the ex-Runner's face. The impassive mask that Ronon almost always wore still dominated, but the edges of Ronon's eyes twitched, and he seemed lost in thought. John hesitated to say anything; dealing with Ronon and his well-kept feelings was tricky at the best of times, but John's hesitation didn't last. A hell of a lot of water had passed under the bridge since they'd met. That had to count for something. "Don't think I've seen you wear that one before," he commented softly.

"Usually don't wear it," Ronon's voice was equally muted, "except for stuff like this."

John leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. He looked away from Ronon. "Ah." He studied the mesmerising twinkle of a nearby candle as the silence between them lingered.

"You don't have to stay."

John looked away from the candle and blinked hard, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness again. His gaze met Ronon's. "Want me to go?" His brows furrowed as uncertainty briefly fleeted over Ronon's face before the Satedan once more masked it.

"Your choice."

In spite of Ronon's vague answer, John's gut told him everything he needed to know. "Think I'll hang out for a bit." He looked away, and again found interest in the flickering candlelight.

Ronon finally spoke again. "It's a remembrance."

John looked back at his friend. "What?"

Ronon lifted his hand to show John the necklace. "This. It's a remembrance. All Satedan warriors have one. Each knot represents a fallen comrade: someone close to you… someone who saved your life, or you saved theirs." He fingered one knot in particular. "This one's Janz. He died defending my back in the attack on Sateda." He lifted his head and met John's gaze. "I remember everyone on this necklace," he added quietly. "Tonight, I add five more."

John looked away and, without meaning to, found himself considering the thin, black strap that adorned his right wrist.

"Why do you wear that?" Ronon's gaze must have followed his.

John bowed his head. "I guess it's a remembrance too… of sorts…." Glancing up and catching Ronon's questioning gaze, he arched an eyebrow before continuing, "When I was in Afghanistan, a bunch of us that hung out and ran ops together started wearing them. I don't even remember what started it, but every one of us had one." He smiled slightly, fond memories washing over him. "We were a hell of a group." He shook his head. "There were eight of us. Four are still in the service, somewhere, I'm here…." His smile faded. "Mitch, Dex and Holland are dead." Slowly, he worked the knot free and held the thin bracelet in his hand. "I watched all three of them die, Ronon," he added quietly.

"That's the hardest thing," Ronon's answer was equally as quiet.

John closed his eyes as his thoughts came full circle to rest again on the one thing that had plagued him these past weeks. He shook his head slightly. "No, I don't think it is." He swallowed and looked back at Ronon. "Not knowing if they're dead or alive is worse." His gaze again settled on the bracelet. "Not knowing if they're out there, somewhere, and need your help or…." His voice trailed off and he shook his head silently.

"You think Weir's alive?" Ronon finally spoke.

John's gaze never left the bracelet. It was the million dollar question he'd turned over in his mind more times in the last couple weeks then he'd care to admit. And after all that, he still really didn't know. That alone caused its fair share of sleepless nights. "I don't know," he admitted bitterly.

He glanced up in time to see Ronon nod silently before starting the first of five knots in his necklace. His gaze returned to the plain, black bracelet still lying across his palm. In its own, simple way, the bracelet represented comradeship and loyalty, two values John held close. A small, bittersweet smile touched his mouth as an idea came to him. "I think I have a couple knots to tie." He resisted looking back at Ronon as he carefully tied one knot, and then moved a short distance down the bracelet to tie another.

"Only two?"

John could hear the question in Ronon's voice, and he looked back to meet the Satedan's gaze. "Not dead friends, Ronon," he answered. "Missing ones." He stared hard at the bracelet and fingered the first knot. "Ford." His hand found the second knot and he lightly brushed his thumb across it. "Elizabeth." He pulled in a deep breath. "If either of them are still out there, I'll find them," he vowed, his voice quiet but determined.

He glanced sideways as Ronon extended his arm.

"To fallen friends," Ronon said.

John gripped Ronon's forearm tightly; a gesture his friend returned. "To missing ones."

While Ronon fastened the leather thong around his neck, John re-tied the bracelet on his right arm. John stood first, facing Ronon as the big man also rose. "Are we done here?" he asked.

Ronon walked around, meticulously blowing out each candle until the room was plunged into near darkness. "Yep. Watch your step."

"You could've let me get to the door first, while I could still see," John groused quietly. As he cautiously picked his way through the debris, another question occurred to him. "Why here anyway?"

"Needed somewhere private where I wouldn't have to worry about breaking anything," Ronon's voice came from right behind John.

"Ah." John winced. "Sorry I interrupted."

"You didn't." John heard the big Satedan sigh quietly before he continued, "Remembrance ceremonies aren't supposed to be done alone. Don't ever tie a Remembrance Knot by yourself. Next time…."

John turned abruptly and faced Ronon. "There's not going to be a next time," he interrupted coldly.

He stared, unwavering, at Ronon's penetrating gaze, before sighing and nodding, the realities of being a soldier coming down heavily on him. "Right." He looked up at Ronon. "That goes for you too. We're your teammates, Ronon. We would've done this with you." He pursed his lips slightly. "Next time, God forbid there is one, say something."

A hint of a smile turned up one side of Ronon's mouth as he acknowledged John's words. Satisfied, John carefully made his way to the door and stepped out into the dimly lit hallway.

Heading back towards the central tower, Ronon silently walking next to him, John felt the strength of command return to him with each step. The IOA might not leave him in charge of the military here indefinitely, but for now Atlantis' people were his responsibility and he'd make good on keeping them safe... just like he'd make good on all his vows…. Of that, he was absolutely sure.