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THE THERMOPYLAE

By TIPPER

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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: ONE MORE STEP

Sheppard stumbled and nearly fell for the third time in so many minutes, and ended up leaning heavily on the stout stick he'd found. It was taller than he was, gnarled and young, its strength invaluable as it took the bulk of his weight. It really was about the only thing keeping his traitorous body upright—that, and willpower.

He knew he was moving by almost sheer stubbornness alone now, mentally pulling on a combination of Ronon's strength, Teyla's endurance and McKay's anger. They were waiting for him, giving him the fortitude to keep moving. All he cared about now was getting to his team.

There was movement in the grass around him, the long wheat shifting and fluttering and...hissing.

Great. More snakes. So long as they didn't come out, he was fine.

Swallowing, he stayed still for a couple of minutes, willing his body to last just a little longer, to go just a little farther, forcing back the darkness fuzzing at the edge of his vision.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he lifted his head. Time to move.

Gripping the staff in two hands, feeling a little like Charon pushing the boat across the River Styx towards the land of the dead, he continued his painful journey towards the Thermopylae.

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Teyla looked down at the floor, as confused by Jorgan's apparent gratitude as she was about being in this place. How could he be happy?

"Teyla," Jorgan called, drawing her attention back up. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head—maybe he just didn't know, didn't understand the extent of the damage. She stepped forward, hands gripping into loose fists by her side.

"Jorgan," Teyla bit her lip, "I do not think you understand." She swept an arm out, "the Thermopylae crashed. The Wraith on board blew themselves up. The ship, it—"

"...Is just a ship," Jorgan interrupted. "Admittedly, a great ship, but still, just a ship."

Teyla's lips parted. "Just a ship? How can you say that?"

"I can say it," the young man gave her a funny look, as if surprised she would ask, "because it's true. Did you not tell Vasa today that is not about the place you live, but about the people? That friends, neighbors and family mean far more than any mere location, no matter how steeped in history or hard work?" He tilted his head, amusement in his dark eyes, and she was struck again at just how familiar he was. "Well, the same is true of things as well, Teyla. And this ship, as beautiful as she was, was just a thing."

She took a step back, a little surprised to have her words thrown back at her so accurately.

Jorgan shook his head, turning to face her and opening his arms. "Come on, Teyla, you know this already. You know the true worth of things—except possibly yourself. What good is a ship with no crew and no purpose? What good is technology with no one to operate it? What good is a city, even one as magical as Atlantis, with no people in it to keep it alive?" He looked up, his hands gesturing to the encompass the room. "The Thermopylae was built for greatness—but it never achieved it."

Teyla frowned. "But..."

"Ten thousand years ago, this ship was brought down on its first trip out of port. It never made it to its destination, never finished what it started. Its crew, all of us, died on this planet and were forgotten. Just like the Thermopylae itself. It never saved anyone--it was just another crashed ship. Today, four people brought it back to life. And, without any of the knowledge, expertise or even the piloting skills," he gave a sly smile, "of its original crew, those four people achieved more in one day than the Thermopylae ever achieved when she was pristine. You made this ship matter again, which, in turn, made us matter again. And that, Teyla Emmagen, is why I am grateful."

Teyla just closed her eyes and let his words wash over her. Suddenly, her mind was filled with images of a distant time, of faces she didn't know and places she didn't recognize, of a silver ship filled with promise and pride, of a desperate, unauthorized plan that brought it down before its name could be added to the history books...

And understood.

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Ronon waited, listening to McKay's heavy breathing over the comm. He couldn't believe McKay didn't know about the Wraith blowing themselves up. It was rare he knew something the other man didn't. "McKay?"

"I...I didn't blow up the ship?"

The Satedan smiled, shaking his head. "No, McKay. You didn't blow up the ship. I thought you knew."

"Clearly not."

Ronon just smiled some more, settling closer to Teyla. He'd been plucking glass out of her hair as he spoke to McKay.

"Well, they did."

"Why did they do it? Just because we crashed?"

"That, and I expect the Leader was angry with Teyla. She had cut his feeding hand off." The Satedan smiled, "Pretty cool, that."

"She did what?"

"The moment you turned the lights off, I jumped to get to Teyla, but she was even faster than me. All I know is, one second she was in the Leader's grip, the next, the Wraith was howling and holding onto the stump of his right arm, and Teyla was free. I took over the fight with the Leader then, and Teyla killed the two Wraith soldiers, slit their throats while they were stunned. Then I guess she tried to take command of the ship. At least, she did until she tried to help me after the Wraith threw me across the room. After that, all I remember seeing is the Wraith Leader escaping through into the central corridor, and we crashed."

There was a pause, then, "Wow."

"Yeah." Ronon continued to pick at the glass—the pieces were getting really small, some just slivers.

"So, really, Teyla killed them all. Not you."

Ronon paused, then frowned and looked up. "What?"

"Teyla. Killed the Wraith. Got the Leader to blow himself up. You just got tossed around the room a bit."

Ronon's frown grew dark. Instead of answering, he returned to removing glass shards.

"Hey," McKay said after a pause, "Oh, come on. I was just kidding. Trying to…to make this all seem less horrible, you know?"

Ronon just snorted. He didn't see the need to lighten anything. This was just the way things were.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I take it back."

Ronon shook his head.

"Ronon?"

He sighed, "What?"

"Just…just checking. So…I guess the Wraith Leader must have told the Wraith soldier who was with me to blow himself up as well. That mind thing."

Ronon nodded. "Would assume."

"Funny. I mean, that soldier shouldn't even have been alive. I jolted him with so much power…crazy. They're really, really hard to kill, aren't they?"

"Sometimes. Depends on how recently they've fed. These ones had all fed recently and well."

There was a shuddered intake of breath over the comm. "Yeah. Right. There's um…no, no, forget it."

Ronon was considering asking "forget what?" but then decided he didn't really care. He finished with the glass in Teyla's hair, and ran a hand through it to make sure. Satisfied, he let it fall to the side, so that her face was uncovered, and moved on to the collection on her back.

"Ronon?"

The Satedan rolled his eyes. Why couldn't McKay be quiet for five minutes? "What now?"

"The Wraith…they didn't feed on Sheppard, did they? I…when the Leader told me he was dead, I…I…"

"Sheppard fell off the cliff, McKay. The Wraith didn't feed on him."

"Oh, thank God. I was afraid that—"

"Yeah." Ronon had to cut him off—being reminded about Sheppard was not something he needed to deal with right now.

He had most of the glass off Teyla's back—it was faster going than the hair, and the pieces were bigger. Plucking off the last of the large pieces, he sighed and sat back, looking around the cool room. His leg still throbbed painfully, and he could see blood seeping through the leather. It needed a proper bandage, but he didn't have one. His right arm was in nine kinds of pain, reminding him what a bad day it had had, and his ribs hurt from being thrown. Part of him just wanted to close his eyes and lean back against the wall and forget all this had ever happened.

"Ronon?"

Oh, that was it. "McKay, I don't want to talk anymore. Can you do that for a little while? Not talk?"

There was a pause, then, a little angrily, "No."

"Well, fine. You talk, but I'm done answering. I need rest, McKay, and I can't rest with you blathering constantly in my ear."

"blathering?"

"Blathering."

McKay snorted. "Big word," he jeered.

Ronon opened his eyes, staring vaguely towards the black central corridor, face reddening with anger. He was about to answer, when he realized that was exactly what McKay wanted. So, instead, he sealed his jaw and closed his eyes again.

There was a longer pause, then, "I'm sorry."

Ronon sighed.

"Ronon? Ronon...please. Come on. I'm sorry. You can't not talk to me."

"Sure I can," Ronon replied lazily.

"No, you can't!"

A dark smile touched the Satedan's face. He didn't answer, just listened as McKay started to breathe faster.

"You can't do this, Ronon. You can't do this because I can't SEE YOU! Don't you understand? Your voice is the only thing I have to hold onto right now. I'm scared and trapped and I have no idea what is going on with Teyla or you. I don't know if you're more hurt than you're telling me, which you probably are, knowing you. The only way I know if Teyla is still alive is if you tell me she is. And the only way I know to stop myself from completely freaking out over the fact that my best friend is dead and lying at the bottom of a cliff is to focus on the fact that I may not have also killed the two of you as well! And, frankly, I don't see why it's so damned hard for you to do me the kindness of talking to me!"

Ronon's eyes had popped open in the middle of that, and widened as it continued.

Damn.

With a pained groan, he drew his knees up and rested his elbow on them, propping his aching head on his hand. He was listening to McKay breathe over the comm. now, the respirations hiccoughing slightly. Slowly, he drew in a slow breath.

"I'm sorry," he said finally.

McKay didn't answer. Probably embarrassed.

"Look," he leaned his head back again, resting it against the wall. "I'm not much of a talker, McKay. You know that."

"Yeah...I know."

"And I'm not really used to…to other people relying on me for stuff. That is, people rely on me to fight for them, sure, but…not to just talk. I don't do that. Haven't done that in a really long time."

"I…"

"I'm not even sure I know how. I got so used to silence, to the point where I started to crave it. To me, silence is safe. Noise...noise means danger. It means people and Wraith and alarm bells and culling beams...Even the smallest noises, whether it be someone tiptoeing outside the door, or the sound of gas releasing, or the slide of a knife out of a sheath…" He grimaced, looking down at Teyla, "And sometimes, when so much has happened, like now, I just…I need a few minutes, you know? I need it to be still."

There was a soft sigh, then, "Yeah. I get it. I just…I'm a little…sorry."

Ronon lowered his head again onto his hand, and used the thumb to knead at his forehead.

He let it soak into him then—the quiet. He could hear fire as well, crackling from somewhere in the distance—probably the central corridor. As long as it stayed there and didn't come here, all was well. He didn't like fire.

He listened to McKay breathing over the comm. It was oddly soothing.

Finally, checking his watch, he saw that five minutes had passed. He smiled. When you got right down to it—McKay was a good man. He deserved better from him. Ronon looked up.

"McKay?"

"Yeah?" It was tentative, nervous. "Can we talk now?"

Ronon snorted. "Yeah."

"Okay. Thanks."

There was a pause, and, when the scientist didn't say anything more, Ronon frowned. "McKay?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not talking."

"Well, you put me on the spot, didn't you? I'm trying to think of something you'd be interested in. I know you tune me out half the time, so I'm trying to think of something you'd think was worth listening to."

That earned a frown from the Satedan. Speaking of listening...He shifted up and took a breath. "McKay."

"Oh, come on! Give me a minute! I'm sure I can think of something! I can always think of something! Just let me—"

"McKay, I'm sorry," Ronon said, interrupting the other man.

That earned a questioning moment of silence, then: "For not talking to me? No, I understand. Really. It's okay, I—"

"No, not about that. About earlier. I'm going to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Not listening to you. I should have listened to you."

"What? When? 'Cause, to be fair, I think I've been mostly talking nonsense—in other words, blathering—since we crashed."

Ronon gave a small smile at that, accepting the apology. He shook his head. "No, McKay. I mean, when we were fighting the third dart. I should have listened to you. I'm not going to make that mistake again."

There was a longish pause, "Ronon, no. Sheppard was right. I always think that I can do anything I put my mind to, but there's a reason I can't fly a jumper in a straight line. It's the same reason I suck at pool. I just don't have the talent for it. Sheppard does. He told me not to mess around, and I did."

"It wasn't all your fault. I gave away our position, and I am the reason the stargate was destroyed. Worst thing you did...was turn us upside down."

There was a short laugh at that. "Well, there might be some truth to that. But, fact is, had I just shot the dart down in the beginning—"

"You'd wonder if you could have saved the people trapped on it for the rest of your life."

McKay didn't answer that, just sort of stopped breathing. Ronon gave a sad smile towards the heavens.

"And so would I," he finished. "It's why I didn't fire when I could have. I could have ignored you, McKay, just like I did before. But I didn't. I wanted to save them as much as you did."

"Ronon..."

"Next time, you'll listen to Sheppard, and I'll listen to you. Deal?" He smiled slightly.

Again, McKay didn't answer.

But this time, the pause grew too long, and Ronon's smile fell. Soon it became a frown.

"McKay?"

"You're right. Let's not talk anymore." Short and tired sounding.

Ronon shut his eyes. Damn it. He replayed his words in his head—why had he brought up Sheppard like that? Hell.

"McKay."

"I thought you wanted to rest."

"Yeah, sure. Look, how about we just talk about...something else."

He heard McKay sigh, then, in an oddly perky about face, "Okay."

"Right," Ronon repeated. He swallowed, then forced a small smile onto his face. He could do this. "So, uh, what do you want to talk about?"

"Um, actually?" McKay's breathing had accelerated, and Ronon frowned, the tension returning to his shoulders. He could hear metal rattling—like a prisoner trying to escape their chains. "I, um, I think I may need you to come here after all."

Ronon frowned, "What? Why?"

"There were two Wraith with me. One, the soldier, he blew himself up, like you said. The other...didn't. And I thought it was because he was dead but…but he's awake and...oh God, Ronon he's crawling towards me."

Ronon was moving the moment McKay said the word, "Wraith."

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TBC...

For those of you who thought there was still one more Wraith out there? So called it! LOL!

If you're curious, I wrote this story for this scene, for Ronon and Rodney. And, yes, we're nearly done!