Title: The Runner
Author: Jammeke
Summary: The Wraith didn't turn him into a Runner. They recognized him as one.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
Rating: K+
Author's note: I have no idea where this came from. But who am I to argue with the Muse? This drabble focuses on Ronon's friendship with his teammates and Beckett.
oOo
It comes easily to him.
Ronon never needs to come to a halt, never pauses to catch his breath. His moving legs pump oxygen into his lungs; his swinging arms show his breath the way out. The pace he keeps divides the air he breathes into manageable portions. Running is like breathing. It's all he needs to survive. It's all he's ever known.
Misunderstandings follow him wherever he goes.
Many people smelt Wraith on him in the past. They accused him of being a Runner, screamed he would bring the wrath of the Wraith down on their villages. On Atlantis, whispers follow him behind his back, soft voices filled with pity telling the tale of the Satedan who was turned into a Runner.
Ronon knows better.
The Wraith didn't turn him into a Runner. They recognized him as one.
There are few who know the truth.
Teyla knows. Ronon knows she knows. The Athosian never calls him on it, but he knows from the look in her eyes, the slight tilt of her head to the side whenever he stands still, that she knows in his head, he's still running.
Sheppard, too, is aware of the itch in Ronon's legs and brains. His team leader acknowledges Ronon's need to run by running with him. Every morning, the two men jog to the outskirts of the city in comfortable silence. They don't need to talk to understand each other's moves. Running with Sheppard is never a competition. But Ronon always wins.
Ronon doesn't think McKay understands. He can see the look of incomprehension in the man's eyes when Ronon takes off again in his mind. McKay knows he sometimes jogs out of a conversation, but that doesn't stop the scientist from babbling to the Satedan. McKay's uncomplicated like that. He doesn't need people to talk back.
The doc sometimes follows him around. Beckett is one of the few who noticed he didn't stop being a Runner with the removal of the transmitter. With the device gone, no one can keep track on Ronon anymore. The Satedan enjoys being free. But when he feels like his feet take him too far, the doc is there to bring him back. No one can follow Ronon, but Beckett does.
oOo
"You seem… out of it."
"I'm fine."
"I did not say you were not. I merely said-"
"Let's go at it again."
"Very well."
"Ow."
"Sometimes fighting back is more beneficial than running."
"Yeah."
oOo
"You ready?
"Are you?"
"Why are you asking?"
"Why are you?"
"Didn't anyone ever tell you about rhetorical questions?"
"No."
"Ronon, do you like running?"
"…"
"All right, class is over. Let's go."
oOo
"You waltzed over my laptop!"
"'m Sorry."
"You should be. Do you have any idea how expensive-"
"McKay, you have seven laptops."
"Stay out of it, Zelenka. Ronon, you – oh, that's just great."
"What is?"
"He took off again."
"But he's right there…"
"Shut up, Radek. And keep an eye on him 'till he gets back."
oOo
"Ronon, lad, ye need to lie down."
"I'm fine."
"Like hell ye are. What were ye thinking, taking off like that?"
"I told you I'm fine."
"Save it. Now, lie still, or I'll strap you ter the bed."
"You can't force me to stay."
"I have needles. And I'm not afraid ter use them."
oOo
It comes easily to him.
Ronon never needs to come to a halt, never pauses to catch his breath. His moving legs pump oxygen into his lungs; his swinging arms show his breath the way out. The pace he keeps divides the air he breathes into manageable portions. Running is like breathing. It's all he needs to survive. It's all he's ever known.
That's a lie.
Running is as easy as living. It happens. You move along.
But it doesn't take life to live. It takes comfort, friends. A place to call home.
Ronon needs all that to run, too.
Fin