A.N. Now that we've passed the Solstice, I can already tell that the days are getting longer. Not really. But it sounds so positive to say that. Tomorrow is Christmas, so best wishes to all who celebrate it. For those who don't, I do hope you at least get to sleep late and stay in where it's warm.
Part I, Chapter 10
They're under siege in Valosia, a reeking spit of land that juts out into the Pafuri Sea on P4C-906. Unwelcoming inhabitants use catapults to hurl explosives at them, and the ground shakes with every detonation. Rodney can't run anymore. His legs give out. I'm going to die, he thinks, then gasps when a man covers him with his body. It's Ronon, blanketing him, protecting him, shooting at their pursuers…
Rodney comes out of this dream quickly. For the first time since Ronon fell on the Ruined Planet, McKay experiences the Satedan's absence honestly without the Dream Machine's intervention. Carson notices he's awake and comes to his bedside. Rodney pours himself a cup of water from the plastic pitcher nearby and messes with the bendy straw.
"Your scans are clean," the doctor says.
"Good," Rodney responds, remembering Valosia and Neridar and all the other places where Ronon put himself between McKay and doom.
"Do you know where you are?"
"The Dream Machine's side effects are gone, if that's what you mean."
"You came out of the sedative yesterday awake enough. How are you now? No train rides to nowhere or missing time?"
Rodney feels his face redden. He moves the bendy straw around, thinking how it resembles the pipes along the Ruined Planet's dusty road. Rodney watches Ronon fall, but it's his memory this time, not Teyla's, and these are his feelings welling up within him.
"I'm okay, now," he says. Carson waits beside him. "I said I'm fine."
Carson completes another vitals check, distracting Rodney from thinking too much. After the doctor moves to another patient, Rodney tries tuning into Channel Z, just to see if he can. Nothing. He remembers dreams without leaving reality, just as he did before ever laying his hands on the headset.
When Teyla enters the infirmary, she looks so ragged and sad that McKay almost feels like weeping himself. She comes and sits right on the bed, next to McKay's feet.
Before she opens her mouth to speak, he says, "I'm sorry. For everything."
Elizabeth has confiscated all of the disks, his laptop and the headset. All of those dream experiences are gone forever. Only Teyla herself remains.
"It had its rewards," she says, and he wonders whether her wan appearance has as much to do with losing him as it does losing playback.
She misses Ronon. Maybe she misses Rodney, too. Just a little.
They sit quietly for a minute, and Rodney's surprised at how comfortable their silence feels. Teyla's calming presence skitters away when Sheppard joins them. He leans lazily against the wall near Rodney's bed, betraying his feelings with a dark, accusatory gaze.
"McKay. You're an idiot."
"I'm sorry. I got…carried away."
"You took Teyla with you." He looks at her as if daring her to disagree.
McKay's embarrassment deepens. "What did you tell them, Teyla?"
"Everything," she responds. Straightening, she turns to John. "I went willingly."
The Colonel holds up his hand. "And where are you now?"
She smiles uncertainly. "Here, of course."
"McKay?"
"Better. Present."
"Good, because I don't want either of you flaking out when we go to pick up Ronon."
"You waited? I felt sure you were taking Zelenka instead."
"Now why would I do that?"
McKay can't think up a good reason. At the time, with visions piled one atop the other, it made perfect sense. The dreams have evaporated and left behind a sense of madness without the madness itself.
Sheppard shifts against the wall. "So, you guys didn't think that using this dream thing would affect your performance on missions?"
"It only got weird those last two days and we were here the entire time. I would have mentioned it otherwise. No, honestly, if I'd been able to, I would have said something."
Teyla looks down at McKay's feet, which move under the blanket covering them.
"Teyla," Sheppard says, pinning her with a glacial stare. "Did you think that being pissed off at McKay didn't distract you?"
"That was my fault," McKay says, recalling their exhausting dispute, how it boiled up into a frenzy once she wanted the device for comfort and he wanted it for thrills.
"It will not happen again," Teyla says, raising her head, meeting Sheppard's eyes with absolute certainty.
The Colonel relaxes his tightly folded arms.
"Elizabeth and Caldwell considered sending a Marine contingent yesterday, but I persuaded them that it's better to catch flies with honey and all that. Ronon has to cooperate with us, otherwise Caldwell's going to Plan B."
"Plan B?" Teyla sits up, alert.
"It's not my idea, Teyla. I'm sure once we find Ronon, he'll have a perfectly reasonable explanation. But Caldwell's got a point—Ronon's not much of a talker, but he does know our location. If he doesn't return by choice…"
"What do you intend to do with him once he has returned?"
"Well, I intend to keep him on our team, if he's willing."
"And Colonel Caldwell? What are his plans for Ronon?"
Sheppard looks away, as if ashamed to admit it. "Depends on why he took off in the first place."
McKay imagines Ronon sulking in the brig for years, caged up for no crime except knowing too much. For an instant, part of him hopes that Ronon didn't survive the attack at the settlement. "The note. He said not to come back."
"Uh-huh. You believe that?"
"Maybe he just wanted to go off and kill Wraith on his own again."
"Then he should have said something."
McKay gets the dream sensation, the blanket of assurance he felt when Ronon was close by. "He probably knew you'd say no."
"Don't worry, McKay," Sheppard says, indicating that their conversation is almost over. "I'm sure that this is all just a big misunderstanding and Ronon'll be pleased as punch to be back in Atlantis."
"Whether he wants to or not?"
"Rest up," Sheppard answers and leaves.
Teyla stays with Rodney a few minutes longer. She sighs deeply. "I am not surprised Colonel Caldwell has no faith in Ronon keeping Atlantis a secret," she says bitterly.
"Maybe we won't find him. He doesn't have a subcutaneous transmitter."
"It is more likely, Rodney, that Ronon will find us first."
OoOoOoO
The tube works with quiet efficiency. Ronon drifts in a languid haze, feeling Happy course through him like new blood. Captured in bliss, nothing matters except more Happy and more and more.
He is let out after a few days and sent to rest in a room on the top floor of the Master's expansive house.
Scented flowers add fragrant depth to his visions of life in Sateda. Wraith charges lift homes and the people in them into fiery blossoms made awesome and festive in Happy's wake. When memories of running come to him, that terrible time seems like an exciting adventure story, as if he were a lone explorer: He lived out in nature, took care of himself, and killed many, many Wraith. What more could a man want in his life?
Atlantis appears as a rest stop on his journey, on his mission to find the last of his people and dwell with them again.
Then the Happy melts away in his system. Ronon rises and paces the room, snarling at the lush draperies and soft furnishings. He takes paintings off the walls, snaps the frames as if they were arms and legs.
A food tray is sent through a slot at the base of the door. It contains meats and vegetables, but no pods or wafers impregnated with Happy. Flinging the tray against the wall, Ronon watches the bits of food and gravy slide onto the floor.
The windows about the room are made of a thick, clear resin. Pounding on the panes only makes them rattle in their metal casings. Pushing, shoving and kicking don't break them, either. The obstinate windowpanes drive him half-mad but give him something to act upon to work off the sensation of insects burrowing under his skin.
Night comes with no food tray, no visitors, only his craving to keep him company. The moon casts cold shadows in the darkened room as exhaustion finally takes him down.
Another day and a night pass, each moment dragging into eternity. Every nerve pulses as if set afire and he can't think of anything but the pain and the hollow place that Happy has carved into him. Even air passing down his windpipe seems to scrape the tissues from his throat.
"You can't…I can't…" he mutters, unable to think of anything to soothe himself. "I can't…I can't…I can't…"
This is worse than all the sickness he has ever had mixed together.
Then, someone's padding feet brush across the room's carpet, taking uncertain steps around the piles of rotting food. Ronon's fallen asleep on the floor. Opening his eyes, he sees the Second's shoes in front of his nose. Waking brings back the flood of need so intense it turns his belly into a scaffold of pain.
"Where did you get the seeds, big man?"
"I can't…" Ronon begins, realizing that this is his last protest, the only resistance he has left.
"You can," the Second replies. "You must! You are the child needing his mother's breast."
He lays a pod on the floor an arm's length away. Ronon reaches for it, but the Second teasingly whisks it away.
Ronon covers his face so no one will see his twisted features or show him pods that he cannot have.
The Second steps away. "Another day, perhaps," he says, closing the door to the vandalized room.
OoOoOoO
"Ronon." A drop of water is placed on his cracked lips. His tongue races around, catching every molecule. Another drop and Ronon is sure that this is more than mere water. He opens his mouth hoping for more and more until he is full.
"Woman! What are you up to?"
"I'm giving him water, lest he die, Dor Milson."
"No water permitted."
"But…"
"You are new, so this will not be reported. Give him the injection now, so we can leave. He stinks of himself."
Ronon feels a pinprick on his arm. Maybe they are giving him vitamins or stimulants or sleeping medicine. The water droplets made his tongue tingle, evidence enough that Happy was in them.
Someone wants to save him.
Two drops of water did not help. If anything, they drove him closer to madness as if he were starving and given a single luscious berry. Too weak, too parched to move, Ronon remains on the floor, breathing "I can't I can't" until the words' meaning is lost to him.
The following day, the Second returns. He takes Ronon's hand in a gentle grip.
"You are indeed strong. No one has ever survived this long without confessing," he intones with almost fatherly concern. "The Master has a wonderful future planned for you, but first you must tell us what we need to know about the seeds."
Ronon whispers his new mantra. "I can't…"
"You will. Otherwise you will be brought to the edge of death and then back again so all you will know is craving and suffering over and over…" The Second's voice breaks. "The Divine One cannot help you until the Master has what he wants."
So the future is this. This room, this suffering, without death or faith to free him.
He opens his eyes. The Second's face looks blurry, disconnected from the rest of him. Ronon moves his lips and the Second bends closer.
"I'll talk," Ronon rasps.
OoOoOoO
The Master, who appears to have nothing better to do, stares at Ronon as he is brought to another room, small, made of metal, furnished with a simple upholstered chair in the middle and a clear, resin window on one side.
"Sit and stay seated," a voice piped in from another location tells him. Ronon obeys. He's been given water and nothing else. Two big men had to help him to this room, and Ronon couldn't even try to fight them off. Now he sits as tall as possible, arms wrapped around his middle.
On the other side of the window, the Master holds a bowl, which he tips up to show that it is full of pods.
"A scourge on our world," he says, his voice muffled as it passes through the plastic pane. "Debauchery, pure and simple."
He shakes the bowl, looks at it wistfully.
"In my youth, I took them. Yes, I admit it. They made me lazy, foolish. Women left me because I loved Happy more than I loved them. Now I love everything, with the help of the Divine One."
The Master takes from beneath his uniform jacket a golden medallion shaped like the sun, with spiking rays emanating from a simple circle.
"I found Him through my suffering, prayed to Him over and over, begged for His mercy, told Him that if He freed me, I would bring Him to every corner of the world. By force, if necessary. Non-believers sometimes are so stubborn they must be beaten with a stick before they appreciate being handed their supper.
"It is my belief that coming to the Divine One can happen only from the depths of need. So I bring this need to everyone by giving them pods or placing Happy in the wafers I generously provide. When denied their poison, and they come to the Divine One as I have. They eat pure food and relish their faith in the Almighty."
Sermon over, he kisses the medallion and shoves it back under his clothing.
"The sublime lies at the end of a difficult road. Some resist the journey, resist the plan I've laid out for them. Making it work means keeping seeds out of their hands. And someday we will move beyond our single planet, to other worlds. I have sent out volunteers to help bring the Wraith into the circle of belief."
Ronon recalls the campfire meeting between Wraith and humans and the drunk woman's claims to know Master D'lin's intentions.
"The Wraith," he says, hoping he'll remember something of this conversation when it's over.
"Yes, the Wraith will one day be freed of their unholy appetites. I have brought Happy to them to begin that process."
Sick as he is, Ronon still can't resist a derisive snort.
The Master peers narrowly through the resin window. "I see you doubt my plan will succeed. Look to yourself for the answer. So large, so strong, brought back to infancy because of this." He holds up a pod. Sweat rolls down Ronon's back at the sight of it.
The Second steps to the window. His Master hands the bowl of pods to him and leaves.
"These pods are yours," the Second says. "Tell me where you obtained the seeds and you can have them all."
Ronon looks at his shaking hands. Veins and tendons stand out on the backs.
"You are eager. Imagine their liquid rolling under your tongue, big man."
Ronon imagines this. Imagines biting down, the gleeful anticipation of waiting for Happy to hit his bloodstream and soar into his brain.
"Your suffering is almost at an end."
"It's not." His suffering won't stop, will never, never, never stop until he has more Happy. His belly wants it and his brain wants it and if there were really a Divine One up in the heavens, He would surely come now to soothe this fire.
"Tell us."
He can't. Sheppard pops into his mind. And Teyla. McKay and Elizabeth and the doctors who care for him when he gets hurt, and the pretty, brown-haired woman who always smiles at him in the hallway…
The Second removes a pod from the bowl and places it in his pocket.
"There, I've taken one away. Each time your answer displeases me, I will confiscate a pod. You said you would tell us from whence the seeds came. By all means, fulfill your promise."
It's only one pod out of dozens, but it is Ronon's and he wants it back.
He says, "A place far from here..."
"'Far from here' doesn't tell me much." Another pod vanishes into the Second's pocket.
"Through the Ancestor's ring!"
His vision blurs through teary eyes.
"Ah, through the ring. I could have told you that." The Second places another pod into his pocket. "Tell me the names of the symbols used to get there."
"They're just lines. Drawings! I don't know their names, just the places on the dialer."
A handful of pods this time, taken from the bowl and flung into the air. They scatter on the floor like animal droppings, as if these priceless things had no value.
The bowl is now half empty. Ronon shudders in the chair, making it scrape along the floor like bones dragged on concrete.
"You won't tell us?"
"I can't!" More pods scatter. "Take me to the ring. I'll bring you to the planet. To…their city."
The Second stops short. Two pods remain. "A city?"
"It's huge. Lots of people live there. My…my friends."
"You are being truthful?" He reaches into the bowl again.
Two pods.
"Yes, I promise you."
So simple, so efficient. One moment Ronon's weeping with need, the next he's weeping for his lost courage.
The Master would like nothing better than to bring his stinking mists and sacks of pods to Atlantis. Ronon imagines everyone there lying dazed in their quarters, watching the past replay like a revisionist history. Everyone. Sheppard, who brought him to Atlantis to begin with, and Dr. Beckett, who took the Wraith tracker out of his back, and Elizabeth, who tries so hard to reach out to him.
"I promise," he whispers.
The Second comes into the metal room. He stands before Ronon and hands him the two remaining pods. Ronon places both in his mouth and bites down hard. Immediately, his belly relaxes and his mind spins away towards glory.
The Second bends down to Ronon's ear. "You gave up your honor for this."
TBC