Westward to Pegasus
Author's note: I'm glad that folks enjoyed the Christmas scene. I'm not sure I could have made it any cozier if I tried. And now, on to the peril. As always, the SGA characters and storylines belong to other people.
Chapter 7
Ronon had been pleased to discover that Sheppard made a good hunting companion when Teyla could not be there. Sure, the man didn't move as silently as Ronon and his shot wasn't quite as good, but he knew when to stay quiet and could hit a moving target. Not bad for an Eastern boy, Ronon mused.
Their first day had not gone as well as hoped, only scoring the pair a couple of rabbits. They savored one for dinner, saving the pelt for later trade.
The two men bedded down at the entrance of an abandoned mine to escape the rain showers that developed in the early evening.
Ronon wrapped himself in his skin coat and was snoring within minutes. John, however, had trouble sleeping despite the rigors of the day. He dozed, waking up periodically, but he felt on edge. Finally, he got up and walked to the entrance for some fresh air.
John stared out into the blackness of the night, finding the sound of the rain soothing. Morning should be here soon. He shivered slightly as cool air blew up through the mine tunnels, so he moved a little closer to the small fire they had built. Although it had been raining all night, there was no sign of it letting up. If anything, the noise seemed to increase.
O~o~O~o~O
Teyla stood just outside her front door, the first pink rays of the sun glowing on the horizon. Something had awakened her, but she was not sure what it was. The valley seemed quiet today, too quiet. On both sides, Ronon and John's cabins stood silently, their occupants off hunting in the mountains. Normally Teyla would have joined them, but yesterday she had had a headache and had begged off this hunting trip.
Something was wrong. Teyla studied her surroundings, trying to figure out what had her feeling so uneasy now. But no matter how hard she tried, there was no noise or smell that was out of place.
Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She turned all of her senses outward, sending them toward the mountains where her brother and her friend had gone.
Suddenly, her eyes snapped open and she began running down the road that went past Ronon's cabin.
O~o~O~o~O
Ronon woke to a cacophony of noise and confusion.
Before he was even awake, he knew something was wrong. The ground shook and rumbling filled his ears. As he tried to stand, something fell, hitting him in the back of the legs and dropping him back down to the ground. Groping for his gun, he kicked back at whatever had knocked him down only to discover that it was one of the wooden beams that supported the ceiling.
Suddenly, everything fell silent.
Dust and debris filled the air, choking Ronon as he took in his surroundings. He pulled his collar up over his nose and mouth, hoping to filter out the worst of the dust. Gradually the air cleared. Somehow, the fire remained lit, receiving oxygen from the mine below. Looking around, Ronon realized that it didn't look as though they were under attack; rather, something had collapsed. He was confused. Both he and Sheppard had taken a look around before setting up camp. The entrance to the mine had appeared to be perfectly stable.
It was then that he realized that he hadn't heard from Sheppard. His bedroll was empty; perhaps he had been outside when the roof collapsed. Good, Sheppard could go for help. His gut clenched a moment later, however, when he saw familiar spiky hair sticking up from behind a beam near the entrance.
Ronon called his friend's name, but Sheppard didn't move.
O~o~O~o~O
John Sheppard sat at the table, pouring wine from a jug into two tin cups. He chuckled: if only the high society types from back East could see him now. They could never comprehend drinking anything but the best imported French wines out of exquisite glasses.
He sighed in contentment. The cabin was closed up for the night, the howling wind outside a distant thought. The fire cast a warm glow over the room. It was quiet save for the pattering of rain against the small windows and the quiet movements of someone humming softly behind him as they moved dishes.
A plate of food appeared before him, and he smiled his thanks at Teyla. Her face was equally radiant, and a moment later she joined him at the table with her own plate of food.
John dug in. "This is fantastic," he said. "Did you cook this?"
"Of course," Teyla said.
They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. John swept up the remaining gravy with a piece of bread while Teyla delicately held her mug of wine.
They smiled at each other across the table. Teyla gave voice to his thoughts: "I cherish these times, when it is just you and me."
He couldn't agree more.
"John, I wanted to thank you," she added.
John smiled. She never had to thank him. It was his pleasure. But this time he wasn't exactly sure what he had done to deserve her thanks.
"For what?" he asked.
"For saving me – all of us – from the Wraith," she said matter-of-factly.
John chuckled uneasily. Something wasn't right.
"That's funny. I don't remember that," he said, looking down at his own mug.
"Of course not. You didn't rescue them, just like you didn't rescue me," said a man's voice.
John's head shot up. Holland sat before him, as dirty and beaten-up as the day John found him wounded on the battlefield.
"No!" John gasped. He turned and stared into the fire, trying to figure out what was going on. But he was quickly distracted by a sharp pain in his side. He reached down, his fingers coming away sticky with blood. How had that happened?
Raising his eyes again, he distantly registered the smell of smoke and dust in the air. Gasping, he turned to look for Teyla. They needed to get out of there.
John Sheppard came awake with a start. His gasp caused him to inhale dust that still floated through the air. The resulting coughs caused unimaginable pain in his side, and he soon passed out again.
Ronon watched helplessly. He had been clearing debris away from around his friend when Sheppard had suddenly awakened. Relief flooded through him as his friend returned to consciousness. If he was conscious, he was alive. But that hope quickly turned to helplessness again as he watched Sheppard cough, obviously in great pain and unaware of his surroundings. It was almost a blessing when the dark-haired man passed out again.
There was little he could do, so Ronon continued to move fallen beams and rocks as best he could. But try as he might, he couldn't move the wood that was pinning Sheppard to the ground.
He took another look around the man. A splintered piece of wood was stuck in Sheppard's side. John's face was pale, with a trickle of blood coming out of the corner of his mouth, probably from the coughing. That wasn't a good sign. Ronon reached forward to wipe some dust from his friend's face, hoping that his pale features merely came from the debris in the air. Unfortunately, John's skin beneath the layer of dust was just as ashen.
Sheppard's second return to consciousness was much calmer, but Ronon was unsure whether or not that was a good thing. Already, his friend seemed weak and slightly confused.
"Hey, buddy," he said, moving himself into John's line of sight.
"Hey," John whispered back, trying to fight back a new bout of coughing. "What happened?"
"Ceiling collapsed," Ronon said succinctly. "There's a lot of debris at the entrance. It might have been caused by a landslide."
John sighed. "I should have seen this coming. The steep slope and all of the rain ..."
"You can't predict everything," Ronon told him.
"I know, but I led troops. They trusted me to keep them safe. I should have noticed," John said with frustration in his voice.
"Well, we've got food, water, fire, and air," Ronon said. "We just need to get you clear and then we'll sit tight until someone comes for us."
John knew that he was in trouble and that help might be a long time in coming.
Ronon dug some bandages out of his bag, glad now that he had allowed Teyla to badger him into carrying them in his pack. Without a word to John, he knelt down next to John and yanked the shard of wood out of Sheppard's side.
Ronon felt the other man stiffen as pain overwhelmed him. Looking up briefly, he saw that the other man's eyes were wide open, staring at nothing, breathing in pained gasps. His mouth was open in a silent scream. Burying his emotion, Ronon used the opportunity to secure one of the bandages to staunch the bleeding before it got any worse.
"What was that?" John finally croaked.
"Just a scratch," Ronon said nonchalantly, wanting to keep the other man calm. He could tell that Sheppard didn't believe him but was playing along.
Now that Sheppard was awake and could move his own limbs, Ronon managed to free his right arm from beneath a beam, but his friend was still pinned in an awkward reclining position between two roof supports. Still, Ronon mused, they were both lucky enough to be alive.
There was no way to mark the passage of time. John slipped in and out of consciousness, his voice weaker each time he spoke. Finally, John said out loud what they had both been thinking.
"What you need to do is find another way out through the mine, then go get help," he told the younger man.
"We'll leave together," Ronon said as he contemplated which stone to remove next from the blocked doorway.
"Wrong way, Chief," John said quietly as he watched Ronon continue trying to clear the blocked entrance. He desperately wanted the Satedan to get out of harm's way. There was no sense in both of them dying here. "Go, and come back for me."
Ronon still refused to give in to John's pleas. Finally John closed his eyes. He was tired. The pain was overwhelming. He wasn't sure that he was getting out of this one alive.
The pang in his heart at that thought surprised him. For the first time in a long time, he realized, he had something to live for. His cabin was small, but it was home. He'd found family and friends, as well as a purpose in his life.
His thoughts turned to his strange dream, which he realized now was a result of his injury. Ignoring the twisted ending, he focused on the opening scene: the warmth of the fire, the taste of the food, the coziness of the entire scene. It was a peace he had not known in many years.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that the element that made that scene so perfect - was Teyla. Without her warmth and compassion nearby, life was colder. Why had it taken him this long to realize that Teyla Emmagen had secured a lifelong place in his heart?
He couldn't die now.
TBC
Another author's note: Many thanks to the people at for providing transcripts of all of the SGA episodes. Sections of dialogue throughout this story were based on these transcripts.
