Two and a half weeks earlier . . . . .
"Ronon, what do you think you are DOING!"
Ronon spun from his ready position to the door, where an irritated Jennifer Keller stood in the doorway. Things hadn't been as easy between them since she had chosen Rodney; she seemed to be of the opinion that because she hadn't chosen him, they couldn't remain friends. He had hung in there for several weeks, offering to take her to lunch or dinner, but she had just seen it as a play for her affections rather than a friendly gesture to try to heal things between them.
He had no idea what he had done this time to piss her off, but she seemed in a fine fettle over something. Rather than play games, he simply cut to the chase. "About what?" he asked, an eyebrow quirked up.
"Teaching a boy of his age to fight is completely inappropriate! I mean, some kids on Earth start doing this kind of thing when they're his age, but only as games or gentle instruction," she stated primly, arms crossed across her chest, looking right back at him.
He took a deep breath and let it out in a gusty sigh. Great. Another "Earth" thing for him to figure out. "Look, Doc, when I was his age, on the farm I grew up on, my granddad taught me how to track and hunt animals that were getting into our fields or predators that were getting into our barns. My dad started teaching me to fight when I was four, and by the time I was Will's age, it was NOT a game." Let her take that as she would.
He and Will had formed an easy friendship. Mr. Woolsey had asked him, upon their arrival back at Atlantis, to take Kit and Will under his wing, and to watch over Will while Kit was busy with repairing the city's systems. He found the boy an easy companion, eager to learn anything Ronon was willing to teach and if impersonation was the finest form of flattery . . . . . .
Kit had laughed uproariously when she returned to their quarters and found Will attempting to put dreadlocks into his messy hair with most of a tube of hair gel and running around with a butterknife stuck in his belt. And Ronon just liked the boy. He listened well, even if he was bouncing the whole time, and Will was having a great time introducing Ronon to several more "earthisms".
Jennifer turned on her heel, whipping her blonde hair behind her, and strode back in the direction she came from. He and William exchanged a look.
"Think your mom'll be mad?" he asked the boy. He was definitely enjoying watching Kit bounce off some of the other crew members; he had thought her a bit strange until she pointed out that some of her odd behaviors in front of others was "just to watch them twitch." Indeed, he had seen her wind McKay up a few days ago in a manner that had sent the genius dashing through the city, trying to figure out who was doing what with his repair jobs. It was only when he saw her pinching her sides to keep from laughing that he realized she was just messing with him.
And anyone who could set McKay off in such a fine manner was obviously okay with him. He turned his attention back to the boy, who was grinning and shaking his head. "Naah, as long as there's not bleeding or broken bones involved, she's probably okay with it."
It had been a long day repairing the power grid on Atlantis. Kit felt like she had been running in twelve directions at once all day long. After crawling through what felt through half the power conduits in the city, she had emerged from an access port to a very annoyed Jennifer Keller. The doctor had proceeded to rant up and down about something having to do with Will and Ronon, which she finally understood the problem to be that Ronon was training Will to swordfight. She had laughed, and then cut the doctor off, telling her that she had been training Will the same skills for the past two years. After that, the power had gone out again in several areas of the city, and she hadn't stopped until nearly midnight.
Now she was in a quiet training room, working through a series of katas to unwind and clear her mind for the evening. Swinging the bantos sticks around, she worked through the rhythms of the routine until she found herself lost in the forms. She spun towards the door, bringing both sticks around into position - THWACK!
Her eyes popped open, meeting Ronon's changeling green eyes. He had grabbed one of the sticks as she had come around and blocked with it. He grinned at her, raising an eyebrow.
They danced around the room, taking shots and blocking. She moved in close, whirling and twisting, laying a shot along the back of his thigh. Spinning out again, he caught the back of her shoulder in a glancing blow. After several minutes of combat, he finally caught her other stick and pulled her close.
Inches from each other, he looked into her eyes and felt his focus slipping. Chests rising and falling in near unison as they caught their breath, they simply stayed together for several moments, until he shook his head to clear it of her spell.
"Um, I didn't know if you'd had dinner?" he queried, stepping slowly back. "Will fell asleep a couple hours ago, and I figured he was out hard enough to try to find you. I picked some stuff up from the mess before they closed down for the night." She nodded her assent, and he left his hand comfortably on her shoulder as he guided her through the door, the bantos sticks left forgotten in the corner.
When they returned to her quarters, she insisted he stay and eat with her, to tell her about his day with Will. He laughed when she described Dr. Keller's upset at his "education" of Will, interjecting when he had something to add from his encounter with the good doctor earlier in the day. Sitting together on the couch, they drifted into a comfortable silence after that, enjoying each other's company without the demands of conversation.
It was the singing that woke him the next morning; Will had mentioned that his mother had a beautiful voice, and though the boy was biased, Ronan did have to admit that she did sing well, with a clear, strong voice. She was working through a history lesson with Will, talking about the court of Charlemagne, when Will demanded the "Roland Song". Ronan listened as she sang of an honorable warrior, betrayed by another and ambushed by the enemy. At the end of the song, Roland was the only survivor standing before he was killed.
He could certainly relate to that; seeing Sateda on the screen in the Atlantis control room four years before had torn his last hope of a homeland from his heart. He crossed the room on quiet feet, watching dark and red heads bent over a book. After four years of searching, he had found only a handful of Satedans left alive, and had been betrayed by those he had held closest. As strange as some of the Tau'ri customs were, these people and Atlantis were quickly becoming home.
