the whole village had been massacred. Not just killed, but hacked. Blood stank, flies swirled and the pieces lay there. Rodney had had a panic attack. Sheppard had been consumed by his anger, the only way he could keep functioning. Teyla had thrown up, dry retching then focused on Rodney's crisis to stop herself seeing what was before her. Ronon had focused on the surroundings guarding from any possible attack. Reverting to what was natural for him. That was how he saw what the others missed. The Boy was alert, also watching the perimeter. But he was also relaxed in stance, almost absently cleaning his fingernails with his blade. Blue eyes stoic, unaffected by the sight, hardened to it. Ronon wondered what the Boy has seen. The blue eyes catch Ronon watching.
"Chuck if you want too." It's said with a shrug.
And Ronon really wanted too. Really wants to heave like Teyla did. But he can't. "Why don't you?" He asks, half aggressively half curious. Anything to stop himself racing off to find these bastards.
"Don't need too." The answer is laconic and easy. Looking down into that pale skinned face Ronon feels like he is looking in a mirror. If Sheppard hadn't found him then would he also have ended up like this? His easy acceptance of the scene makes Ronon itch. The Boy shrugs. "They're dead, I'm alive. They're just food for the circling birds." Ronon turns and walks away. He can't hear this just now. He can see Satdena. Rubble and bodies. "Flies will continue to circle no matter what we do." The Boy is following him, Ronon shuts his eyes. "Strong survive, weak are scattered in bits." The last phrase is said with a bleak half bark of laughter. It was the laugh that did it. He was breathing hard, looking down at the Boy sprawled on the ground. The smaller man spat out a mouthful of bloodied saliva as he climbed to his feet, fore stalling Sheppard with a 'it's nothing' wave. Steady dark blue eyes looked up into Ronon's. "You feel better now." The Irishman moved away, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his swelling mouth. It took Ronon a moment to realize that it was a statement. And it was true. He felt a brief surge of shame and a quick surge of hot anger at being manipulated. But he also felt the truth, he could control his emotions better now. The sniper had needled him into releasing the anger, reacting to the sight before him. He knew that he needed it. And more than that, he wants to hit the Boy again for knowing that. And that thought lends him clarity.