A/N: I'm back at it. This fic is written, but it's not done...if that makes sense. So updates should be regular, but not necessarily quick. Hm. Still not sure I'm making sense. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chap, and since I'm kind of vague on the details, what's good, what's not, if you'd be so obliged as to leave me a review, that's would be awesomundo!

Chapter One – First Meetings Again

He'd known different people from different places had different ways of speaking, even before he'd met Rodney McKay and Carson Beckett. He knew, because she talked differently, as did all the people of Fresia. If he'd had to describe it, he'd have said it was most like Captain Daniella Robinson who was from someplace called Louisiana, but even that was just 'close' and not quite it.

He can still remember the first time he heard it…again. They had been on a planet, M42-something, following up on some rumors with an informant. Supposedly there was word of some ZPMs that weren't being used floating around, but their informant had been less than helpful…

Ronon pursed his lips as John tried, again, to charm the short, stocky but well-built man into giving them the information they wanted. Rodney had already tried insulting him and Teyla had tried reasoning with him. So far, the man was just not in a giving mood. All he wanted were things to trade, but Sheppard insisted they had no reason to give him anything until they knew he had something of value to tell them in return.

Patience was really not one of Ronon's strong points.

Pulling one of his knifes from his sleeve, he pushed past Rodney and slung a long arm around the informant's shoulders, ignoring the warning look John sent him as he did so. Then, curling it around in front of the man's face, he casually began running the sharp blade under his fingernails as he took great care to whisper menacingly in the man's ear.

"Tell us what we want to know Gijara, and I promise, you might make it out of here with all your fingers in tact."

The man licked his lips nervously and out of the corner of his eye Ronon could see John frown. He didn't like Ronon's tactics, but he hadn't said anything to stop him yet.

He'd been about to prompt the greedy trader once more, a bit more forcefully, when he heard a female voice behind him.

"Why don't you pick awn somebody yur own size?"

Ronon turned around, extracting his arm from around the informant. He leaned back against the bar casually, resting his hand on the hilt of his blaster. "And that would be who? You?"

The woman put her hands on her hips, pushing aside her waist length leather jacket. She smiled like she knew his secrets, "We could take this outsayd and find out."

"Somebody needs to teach you how to pick your fights better," He stood at least a head and shoulders taller than her, but she didn't seem to notice. He felt the others tense beside him but was relieved when they stayed silent.

She didn't even flinch, blue eyes sparkling as she said, "Oh believe me, I pick me fights jus' fine."

"Then lets go." He raised his eyebrows, the challenge almost sounding like an invitation.

She looked over his shoulder and caught sight of John, Teyla and Rodney, all gripping their p90s uneasily. She raised an eyebrow at them and ran a hand nonchalantly through her blood-red hair, "I don't know, I feel a lil out-numbud."

Ronon barley glanced at them, "It'll be a fair fight."

"Oh I highly doubt that." She smiled mystically again and turned toward the doors, picking up a sword from a nearby table as she passed by. It was more than the length of her arm and she held it effortlessly as she walked out of the small pub that Rodney said reminded him of Gunsmoke, whatever that meant.

Ronon pulled his sword from the leather holder across his back.

"Hey, buddy, hold on a second," John called.

Ronon ignored him and stepped out the door. A glint of silver lit up in the corner of his eye and he ducked just in time to avoid getting decapitated. He lifted his sword as another attack was made on his left side, and he backed up as his female opponent advanced toward him, down the stairs and out into the dirt street.

John, Rodney and Teyla ran outside, though they were sure their assistance would not be wanted and probably not needed either, but that didn't make it any easier to watch as he engaged in what looked like a very real, very dangerous swordfight.

The pair were obviously unevenly matched. Ronon was much taller and had at least fifty pounds on his opponent, and John knew from experience by the placement of his footing that Ronon was holding nothing back from each blow he threw. The other fighter stood at least a foot shorter, lithe and quick. At some point she'd shed the leather jacket and underneath she wore a loose too-big tunic that went down to her thigh and was held on by a black belt.

John bit his lip. "I'm really going to have to get a leash for that guy." He muttered.

"I doubt it would help," Rodney said, not missing a beat, "and he'd probably like it."

This made John smirk, but only for a moment, as he watched the fight carefully for any sign that he would need to step in.

The longer he watched, the more impressed John was, in spite of himself. Ronon's opponent fought with untrained movements, sometimes clumsy and certainly not elegant or smooth the way he knew Satedan soldiers were taught to fight, but it certainly seemed to get the job done. She used her small stature to gain tactical advantage, twisting and turning to both defend and counter in the same motion. Anticipating Ronon's moves with skill not borne of training, but of experience.

Inside the tavern someone toppled over a table full of clay and metal mugs, causing a spectacular crash to reverberate around the room and out into the street. For a split second Ronon was distracted. He didn't even look up, and barely hesitated the movement of his sword, and a lesser opponent would have missed it completely. Hell, John wasn't sure he would have seen it, but the lithe fighter did and he watched with a small part approval and a large part concern as she quickly disarmed Ronon and with a well-placed kick, buckled his knees and sent him to the ground.

Anyone else would have been rendered defenseless.

Ronon quickly rolled away from her sword's downswing and when it hit the dirt where he had been, he was in a crouch behind her. Surprised, she turned to look at him, momentarily leaving her core unguarded. Ronon raised an eyebrow and a half smirk appeared on his lips as he reached for his sword and in the same motion brought it up in a direct line for her neck. In the time it had taken Ronon to reach for his sword, the woman had regained her composure and was making a swing for his lower left side, between the hip and bottom of the ribs. At the last second before they each landed strikes that would have been unquestionably fatal, they stopped. Ronon's light eyes met with the woman's blue ones for three full seconds before either moved and the team held their breath.

Then Ronon stepped back and dropped his sword down to his side, the woman did the same. John, Teyla and Rodney still held their weapons steady on the red-haired woman, all equally confused when Ronon and the woman broke into smiles at the exact same moment.

"What the hell?" John muttered, glancing between the two several times.

"I always knew he was a lunatic," was all Rodney could think to say. Teyla just kept her gun trained and steady, frowning, unsure of what to make of the exchange.

"Micah," Ronon said, stepping forward and grabbing the woman up into a hug, "how have you been?"

She stood back, sliding her sword into her sling with practiced ease, "How have I biyn? Well isn't that just a loaded question Bat'hi."

"Stop calling me that." He answered automatically, not really expecting her to heed him.

True to form, she ignored him completely and continued, "Why don't you go first? An' you can start with telling me who these luvly people who seem mo' than ready to put holes in me are."

Ronon smiled and shook his head, reaching out to ruffle her hair in such a brotherly manner that Rodney's mouth dropped, and turned to face them.

"John, Rodney, Teyla, this is Micah," He motioned to the three, who had yet to lower their weapons, not that either Ronon or Micah seemed disturbed by it, "Micah, this is my team."

TBC