Chapter 11

"Got you the Chicken one." Ronon tossed the MRE down by the fire, sitting on the log opposite Sheppard as he tore open his own pack. They were three days away from the main village, down to rations and he didn't miss the look of irritation that settled on the Colonel's face.

"They all taste like chicken." John poked the campfire with his stick turning his head away as the embers scattered by his feet. He was cold, wet and exhausted. The combination coming as an unpleasant reminder that he wasn't as young or as fit as he used to be.

Ronon snorted emptying his canteen into the makeshift pot and mixing it with the powdered jerky. The man's enthusiasm had begun to waver with the turn of weather but the light rain had taken the chill out of the air and they'd managed to find a reasonably dry place to set up camp. All in all he figured it could be worse. "Last night-" he offered hoping it would put him in a better mood, "we head back in the morning."

John nodded, disguising the yawn that pulled his lips as a sigh. It wasn't that he hadn't been enjoying himself. The change of pace had been a welcome distraction but the last couple of nights his mind had started wandering back to city, more specifically to Elizabeth, and he chided himself for not having a better handle on his emotions. "Sorry, I know I'm cranky." It was a genuine apology and he shook his head, absently drawing a line in the sand, " I didn't get much sleep last night, you mind if I take last watch?"

Ronon shoved the pot over the heat swishing its contents as he shrugged, "sure... but you're making breakfast." The banter fell heavily between them and he kept his focus split between the man and his food. Obviously it wasn't just lack of sleep that was weighing on him and he raised an eyebrow through he doubted it was visible through the darkness. "You want to talk about it?"

John stiffened, his hand stalling mid circle as he attempted to avoid the question. "Not really."

Ronon lowered the metal further into the flame dropping it against the makeshift wall with a loud clang. He wasn't big on prying, didn't really see the point. If people wanted to talk they would but then again Sheppard wasn't most people. "This about Weir?"

John flinched not wanting to admit the truth but it was getting harder to avoid and part of him blamed her for opening the floodgates. He'd been doing just fine suppressing his emotions until she'd come back.

"I guess you could say that, more or less..."

Despite the awkwardness a low hum caught the back of his throat, the sound non-committal as it hit the air between them. What was he supposed to say, that she wasn't Elizabeth but he couldn't seem make the distinction anymore? That at some point she'd started feeling more like his Elizabeth and not the women he remembered. It was complicated and he tossed the stick aside running a hand up through his hair in frustration, "what if I'm screwing this up... she needs support, stability and I can't... I'm not good at this-"

He waved his hand motioning to the conversation between them and Ronon lent forward resting his elbows over his knees. From where he was sitting the doubt seemed ridiculous. If anything he'd gone above and beyond to prove he could be there to support her and so far neither of them had shown any sign of it being a problem. "Looks like you're doing okay to me."

John nodded mutely, pushing down the fear as he picked up the discarded MRE. He still couldn't stomach the thought of eating but it offered a distraction and he tapped the bag absently against his leg to break the silence. He had no idea what he was doing but it seemed to make a lot more sense back in Atlantis, rather than out in the middle of nowhere freezing to death.

Ronon sensed the man's frustration and cracked his knuckles trying to relieve his own tension. There was a time once when he wouldn't have shied away from giving advice but losing his wife had gutted him, both figuratively and almost literally, when the Wraith had captured him soon after. He'd been jaded for a long time refusing to let anybody in and while the pain was still raw it had dulled enough to draw insight from. "You don't want to lose her again."

The quiet truth stabbed painfully through John's chest. If she was allowed to stay on Atlantis, if she chose to stay, then their roles would be reversed. She'd be the one out putting her life on the line each day and he could barely stand the idea but it was part of his job. He wasn't allowed to be bias, he needed to remain impartial no matter how personal his feelings became. "I'm responsible for everyone in that city," he swallowed the realization finding he was already dangerously close to crossing a line, "if I had to let her go again I don't... I'm afraid of what I might do."

Ronon dropped his head replaying the moment they'd been forced to leave her behind the first time. He'd panicked thinking Sheppard wasn't going to run, digging his nails in so hard he was sure he'd drawn blood, but the man had only moved when Weir had ordered him to go.

When he'd instructed McKay to hit the killswitch on the nanites it had been because she'd asked him to do it.

Ronon knew the danger wasn't Sheppard reacting, it was how he'd live with himself after and he pulled the pot from the fire giving it a shake as he glanced up over the flames. "You'd do the right thing."

The statement was backed with confidence and John reached up scrubbing the side of his face as heat pricked his neck. The assurance was appreciated but he didn't know if it was warranted and he brought the hand down ghosting it over his thigh. "How do you know?"

Ronon gave a gruff shrug as if it was obvious. In his experience loving someone meant doing everything possible to avoid disappointing them and Sheppard had already shown he was willing to make that sacrifice. It was a no brainier and his mouth formed a loose smirk as the answer pushed from his lips, "because if you didn't she'd never forgive you."

The simple reasoning eased the weight resting on John's shoulders and he breathed out slowly, finding comfort in the logic. It was true; he'd never be able to put her safety above Atlantis and live with the consequences.

He just prayed he'd never be in another position where he had to prove it.

-X-