AN: Yes, I am back! This is something I came up with after watching Runner, Duet, and Sateda back to back. I have an addiction. Does anyone know of any Stargate Atlantis addiction support groups? PM me if there's one in Texas…..

I need it. Anyway, I don't own, (sadly) so please don't sue. Don't flame, constructive criticisms are one thing, but flamers will be shot, stuffed, and mounted on the walls in my living room. Don't believe me? Try me.

Toodles! VMD-J

She ran, always ran, keeping hidden during the day and traveling at night, never stopping. Once, long ago, she had worn the finest clothing her people could offer a wealthy young woman. Now, her clothing was animal skin she had patched herself, or stolen from the villages she passed through each night. Never sleeping in the same place twice. Never speaking to people she encountered, killing those that got in her way. Once, she had eaten only the choicest meats and vegetables brought from the market.

Now, she trapped and killed her own meats, ate it raw, stole what she needed to survive, and ran some more. Never stop running. She'd been caught twice, once by the Wraith and turned into a runner, once by villagers who planned to hand her off to the Wraith the next morning. She escaped and slaughtered the entire village as they slept. Had she not, they would have been culled and suffered a worse fate than she had visited upon them. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if she was the only survivor of her world.

A world once rich in technology and military –

She shuddered away from the thoughts that turned ever homeward, knowing it was useless.

Sateda was gone, and with it, her home, family, and old life.

Ronon sighed in frustration as Rodney kept up his incessant chatter about what projects he was missing out on watching Zelenka destroy with impunity while he himself traipsed around on a godforsaken planet in the hopes of finding a non-existent village that may or may not have been culled, moved out of the area, or even disbanded and absorbed into the culture of another world.

Catching Sheppard's eye, Ronon tried for a lighthearted grin, feeling it come out as more of a grimace.

"One more hour, Chewie. Then we make camp." Sheppard promised, patting the bigger man's arm before stepping over a fallen tree across the path. Something caught his ankle; he pulled away and felt rather than saw the log that fell toward him from up in the trees. Ronon jerked him out of the way, planting a boot in Rodney's ass and shoving him into a bush as the log hurtled past them, swinging wildly as it descended. When Sheppard eased to his feet, looking carefully for other traps, Teyla moved to his side.

"This was deliberate." She told him, eyeing the log. It had to weigh at least two tons, embedded with spikes covered in a gelatinous ooze, and swung gently suspended by vines braided together a good two feet off the ground.

"Touch that stuff, you get sick. Get it in your blood, you die." Ronon grunted when McKay reached to touch one of the spikes. The smaller man backed away, wiping his hand on his vest.

"You touch it?" Sheppard asked, giving him a look.

"No! I just…reflex, you know? Like wanting to bathe after seeing a hobo." Rodney replied, giving the thing a wide berth as he came around.

"We should take samples. Carson will want to study it." Teyla uncapped a specimen jar and used a twig to scrape the gel into it. Carefully, she screwed the top shut and tucked it away in her vest.

"Let's keep moving, watch your feet. You see anything out of the ordinary, don't touch it. Try not to die, I hate paperwork." Sheppard called out as they continued moving forward, albeit slowly and on the lookout for more traps.

She watched them draw small twigs to decide who would take first watch that night. When the smaller man…

- weaker, easier to kill, not a warrior -

…threw his down in disgust, she breathed a silent sigh of relief. She didn't want to kill the others. It would have been a shame to destroy their bloodlines, obvious warriors, much like…

mustn't go down that path, mustn't bring the memories, useless, empty…could bring her destruction down upon her head…

Giving herself a shake, she mentally reviewed the methods of killing she had accumulated. Shooting him was not an option. Too much noise. Bring the others, didn't want to kill them too. Slitting his throat from ear to ear, that had merit. Strangling him. Stabbing him.

Twitching from the endless possibilities presenting themselves in her mind one after another almost too swiftly for her to see, she slunk to another position facing the camp.

She hadn't survived almost twelve years as a Runner by staying in one place over long. Fifteen times over the next three hours, she shifted her hiding place. In that time she heard the camaraderie die down, then finally trail off as one by one the warriors fell asleep around the fire. Slowly, carefully, she eased to her feet, hidden by the trees, and moved forward silently.

Then she was within tackling distance. A few steps more, and she was behind him. She could have stabbed him easily. Cut his throat.

His head hung down to his chest and air whistled between his lips in a gentle stream as she drew her knife to deliver the killing stroke.

He was asleep.

Asleep. No danger.

Taking a moment to look him over, she caught her breath in a gasp. Ancestral technology hung from his limp fingers, she plucked it away carefully, watching for movements that would make him a threat. A computation device was strapped to his chest, she worked her blade up under the straps and easily cut them free, then licked her lips at the vest he wore, pockets full of things she couldn't identify. She couldn't resist. Slicing the front away from him, she draped it over her arm before cutting open the pouches that clung to his body like a second skin. She paused, her mind drifting over the years.

Clothes.

That's what they were called.

Pants.

She had known them for what they were, but refused to let her mind touch the familiarity. Emptying the pockets, she transferred everything he carried to her sack, her fingers tugging at the second ancestral device clutched in his hand. He tightened unconsciously, she froze at the sound of one of the warriors barking out a laugh in his sleep, she turned to see if her silent movements had wakened them. When she turned back to the one she stripped of items, she breathed a sigh of relief. So far, she was unhindered by them. Cutting away the last of the items she needed, she rose to her feet and made her way to the warriors around the fire. Two males, one female.

Triple barrel shotgun.

The largest male had it cradled protectively under his hand, she'd had harder times getting food away from a dog. Gently, ever so gently, she trailed a leaf down the side of his jaw. When he batted it away, she dropped the leaf and scooped up a tree branch roughly the size of the shotgun, snatching the weapon away in almost the same movement as his hand descended, searching for the weapon even in sleep. Without a sound, he quieted once he touched the trade out.

The others were easier. They'd left everything atop their packs that night, she eased their weapons away from them as they slept, none the wiser. Then, she was gone, taking the packs with her as she disappeared into the night. Heading to the cave that she had found three days ago, she followed it to the large room where she set up camp and began sorting through her take.

"Everything's missing. Everything. Weapons, food, water, it's all gone." Rodney snapped bitterly, inspecting the gashes cut into his clothing. "Whoever did this, they knew what they were doing." Sheppard sighed. Ronon crisscrossed the camp, staring at the ground, deep in tracker mode.

"They went this way. One set of tracks, probably a younger male." He announced after a moment. Pausing at the fireside of the night before, he stared at something on the ground, turning slowly to let his eyes roam over the area they had slept.

"What have you found?" Teyla asked, stepping closer to her friend.

"You slept there." He pointed to her location, then to another. "I was there. Sheppard, here." He crouched, picked up a rock three times the size of his fists. Teyla recognized it as the one she had tossed into the jungle before spreading out her bedroll the night before.

"Whoever it was, they were here to kill us. They retrieved it, sat here for a time, waiting to kill Sheppard." Ronon rumbled, eyes darkening as he ran through the scenario in his mind.

The intruder had crouched at his friend's head, the rock clutched in their hand, wanting to strike a killing blow.

What had saved Sheppard's life?