Summary: - Friendships can be sometimes be found in unlikely places. It's John & Ronon up next. A little Shep whump of course…
Disclaimer:- Not mine. Do you seriously think I would have kept these two off the box!
Warning: - A very little bad language.
Thanks again for all the great reviews. Also a very special thanks to my fabulous beta, Shepsgirl72 for sorting out the kinks and keeping me honest. - All mistakes are mine.
THE RUNNER
All six prisoners stood in a row, each wearing the same dark grey uniform. Long, loose tunics swamped their emaciated bodies, the matching pants hanging loose around each waist. Even if they had the strength to contemplate an escape, the thick metal weights around both wrists and ankles would have prevented it.
Ronon presumed they were all men, but it was hard to tell. The reason for his uncertainty…the masks. Each prisoner wore a silver metallic mask, completely covering their features, leaving only three small slits, where eyes and mouth should be.
Despite all his years as a runner, when he had to keep moving, hidden from sight, stealing to relieve the ever-present hunger and enduring many long, lonely nights, nothing he'd suffered compared to the plight of these poor souls. His blood boiled as he realised his friend was here before him, encased in such a mask, unable to open his mouth wide enough to make even the smallest sound.
Who knew that bastard Koyla had a brother? Not Laydon, or so he said. But Ronon had never completely trusted that guy, even if he did give them the coordinates of the penal colony where John was taken. It turned out the warden wasn't too fussy where his inmates came from. If you had money, it was instant jail time, complete with mask, for whomever you wanted, as long as the money held out. Why masks? Well…they kept identities hidden and prisoners subdued, a liquid diet soon making even the strongest man weak and compliant. Corruption was rife in Pegasus and it sickened him to the core.
How Sheppard was captured was still a mystery. One minute John was just behind him, snarking with McKay, the next, he'd disappeared, vanished as if into thin air. Despite searching for hours there had been no sign of him, only a small pool of blood beside a shattered transmitter told the story no one wanted to hear.
For six long weeks they'd searched with no leads. Each day, Ronon would vent his anger in the gym, or run like a man possessed, until tired legs buckled beneath him. Frustration grew with each passing day, tearing him apart, rage threatening to overwhelm him. Teyla, wise as always, had told him he was no use to John this way. Sheppard would need his friends to stay focused on the job ahead. To find him and bring him home to be there for him while he healed. As for revenge, that would be something to savour later, but not now.
Revenge did come first, though, the information on John's whereabouts coming from an unexpected source. Woolsey had contacted Todd, with no great expectation of help. However the Wraith had remembered a young Genii during his confinement, a young man who bore a striking resemblance to Koyla who would taunt him in his cell. It could have been a son or brother, for they shared both looks and character, and he'd always regretted missing him as he'd left...
Given the new information, Laydon, keen to keep the Atlanteans on side, investigated further and discovered Koyla had an illegitimate stepbrother called Nessan. True to form, Koyla, arrogant SOB that he'd been, had never publically acknowledged the boy as kin. Regardless, Nessan still idolised his brother, and was devastated by his death, so maybe, just maybe another man with the name Koyla had taken their CO.
These days, Nessan Koyla made a great deal of money in the "protection" business. He, with his band of renegades, terrorised small remote villages unless they were paid to stop. With no one to help, the defenceless villagers felt they had no choice but to part with what little they had to stop their misery.
Ronon, frustrated with the delay in rescuing his friend, took great satisfaction in seeing the look on Nessan's face when he arrived in Olias for payment, only to get the "payback" he deserved. Lorne's team had surrounded them, but just seconds too late, for as Nessan raised his gun to shoot McKay, Ronon had no choice but to fire. In one swift action the man lay dead on the ground, and any chance of finding Sheppard alive, died along with him. He couldn't forgive himself, and nothing anyone said helped. If only he'd just set his blaster to stun…
But life was full of second chances, as John often said, and he was right. New Intel came in about a penal colony Koyla had used, for enemies or "friends" who were of no further use to him. With no other leads, this was his last, best chance and Ronon was determined not to screw it up this time.
Ronon knew the warden only agreed to meet them when he discovered that Nessan Koyla was no longer around to pay his "bill". With no further recompense forthcoming for the prisoners in front of him, the greedy little man would have to cut his losses some way. However the fact he hadn't just handed Sheppard over to them straight away, made him feel uneasy…
Lust shone out of Warden Rois beady eyes as they roamed over Teyla's lithe form and it became clear... This odious man wanted more than money…he wanted Teyla too.
Rois, waved a careless hand towards the row of prisoners and challenged them to a "game". The rules were simple. Each of them had one opportunity to identify their friend. If they were successful, he would be released free of charge. However, if they failed the challenge then he would only meet with Teyla, alone, to discuss new "terms" under which the release might be arranged.
Rage consumed him, and he would have happily taken the good for nothing, excuse for a man, apart piece by piece. But Teyla stopped him in his tracks with a single look that said we can do this, he is our friend. Let us at least try…
McKay, impatient as always, didn't wait and called out to Sheppard, asking him to step forward, to give some sort of sign. His panicked voice barely steady, as it hide a silent plea Please John, make yourself known… The silence was deafening, then demoralising, when there was no response.
It was Teyla's turn next. Walking with elegant grace towards the row, she stopped by each prisoner, looking for any clue as to which mask hid her friend. But they did their job too well, completely covering both face and neck, where the telltale Iratus scar would have been. Squinting against the sun streaming in from the narrow, barred, windows, she could barely see, let alone gain any clue to John's identity, for nothing, not even a flash of hazel could be seen beyond the tiny slits.
Ronon knew this was their last chance, so he had to make it count. Years as a runner had taught him to live by instincts alone, and he called on every one of them now to save his friend. Standing back from the row he closed his eyes to focus. After a long moment, he slowly moved forward, to each man, He was at least sure of this now, gauging each person for height and bearing before finally stopping in front of the second last prisoner on the left. Lifting up the tunic, confirmed it was Sheppard standing before him. His scar, a warrior's badge of courage, gained in Michael's lab, while trying to rescue a friend, showed clear and proud for all to see.
Looking deep into the mask, finally he spoke "Sheppard. It's Ronon. We're here to take you home."
Later, back in Atlantis, Kellar told them Sheppard had been drugged, but he was slowly coming around. At some point in the last few weeks, he'd been subjected to a brutal beating, leaving bruised and cracked ribs. But these were healing on their own. The doctor warned that the damage to John's face looked horrific, but with intensive treatment, the sores should heal without scaring. However, the most distressing part of his condition was John's emaciated body. Prolonged use of the mask had frozen his jaw almost completely shut, preventing speech and limiting food intake to just fluids. He was being fed through a tube, but the injury to his jaw would take time, patience and some physio, but the Sheppard drawl would be heard once again, hopefully sooner, rather than later.
Ronon looked at McKay and threw him a warning glare. Rodney's face beamed red with embarrassment, and he turned away, shocked he had guessed what he was thinking.
At last, they were allowed to see Sheppard, who was lying barely moving against the crisp, white sheets. Monitors surrounded his painfully thin torso, IV's snaked out of each arm, and the feeding tube could just be seen, providing him with essential nutrients, keeping him alive. John's face was nearly unrecognisable. Swollen red lips and dry flaking skin with weeping sores covered once handsome features. Sensing their presence, he turned towards them as they approached, hazel eyes bright with gratitude, conveying the words he couldn't say.
Teyla, the mother hen amongst them, swept overgrown bangs off the flushed face with soft hands, promising a haircut in his near future. Rodney, shocked at John's appearance, did what McKay did best. Talked... He would have still been there if Ronon hadn't dragged him away.
The Satedan could see that sleep was pulling him under and so went to leave, when Sheppard's hand grabbed his wrist. John looked up, their eyes locked, and Ronon nodded in response. Words were not needed between them… Never have been. Two soldiers, brothers in arms, they understood what had to be done and did it. Never leave a man behind was a code both men shared and would always try to uphold, or die in the attempt.
Ronon left his friend sleeping, and headed for his own bunk, happy to rest now Sheppard was home. As he dimmed the lights and looked around, he was thankful he had a warm place to sleep, a home and friends, after so long alone.
Sheppard might think he owed him his life, and maybe this time he did. But it was him who saved Ronon's all those years ago, on the day they had met. Because of John keeping his word, bringing Ronon to Atlantis, he now had a family, a purpose and a brother. Someone he knew would die for him, just (as he) would for Sheppard.
One day soon, he knew John would ask him how Ronon knew it was him hiding behind the mask. He smiled as he visualised Sheppard's face when he told him it was his smell…Everyone has one, friend or foe. It was a skill he'd learned, born out of desperation, a need to say alive. His very survival had depended upon it, and today it had saved the life of a friend.
THE END
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