I lie to myself all the time. But I never believe me.
Never had he been so grateful that he'd packed every blade he owned as he was at this moment. He pulled his hair back, securing it with an elastic band and tying two of the dreads around it for extra security, slipping two throwing knives into the mass. Another went beneath each leather bracer he strapped into place. Still another into each boot and one on his belt. He drew out a final, slender sheathed blade. Double-edged and wickedly sharp, it was sheathed in a sturdy, battered leather sheath. This one he set aside for her, digging out a spare length of the cording he kept with him on missions, looped around the GDO he had tucked into the side pocket of the backpack.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, gun holstered on his belt beneath his untucked shirt, so as not to draw attention, Grace was already dressed. He stared at her for a moment, torn between the need to move quickly and knowing that to divest her of the clothing would signal instantly to anyone just what they were up to. He shook his head and set the pack down for a moment, unsheathing the knife he intended for her and knelt in front of her. She watched silently as he sliced up the sides along the seams, giving enough freedom room to run if she needed to without getting tripped up.
"Give me your right hand." He was rewarded instantly with her hand thrusting out. "You're left-handed, right?"
Her eyes were wide as she nodded, watching as Ronon pushed the sleeve up and placed the knife back into its sheath, aligning it along her arm. "Don't use this unless it's an emergency. It's a backup only. If we get separated, you run for the Stargate and you don't stop. Anyone comes near you, you do not hesitate to use that. Got it?" He wrapped the leather cording around her arm several times, securing the knife into place.
Ronon watched as she gave a nod. He lifted the backpack and drew out the knife that was strapped to his belt beside his gun, making his way toward the mural. He passed it to Grace as she came to stand beside him, staring for a moment before she spoke. "What are you doing?"
"Getting us out of here." He murmured as he ran a hand along the fabric until he felt the bump of the wooden studding he'd seen that morning.
She stared at him in confusion. "The door's over there." When he glanced at her she was pointing toward the door as if he were incapable of seeing it.
Ronon snorted. "Watch and learn." With that, he turned to the mural once more, trailing his fingers over it before he came to the weakest point in the stretched fabric. In one smooth movement, he plunged the knife into it and sliced the mural open. "It's fabric, smartass. This way I don't have to make a bunch of noise and kick in the door. I'm betting the door in the perverts' viewing room isn't locked if there's no one in it."
Admiration lit her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief. "You really are something else, Ronon Dex."
He flashed her a grin even as his instincts began to kick into overdrive and he gripped the fabric as it gave, tearing it out of the way and motioning her over. "Come on. Let me get you through."
Knife secured once more, he turned to lift her from her feet, carefully pushing her through the opening and supporting her weight as she braced her hands on his shoulders and shimmied down the half-wall on the other side. Ronon lifted the backpack and slipped it on his shoulders as he planted his own hands and jumped, catching himself on one foot before he cleared the wall far easier than she had. She was staring at him again, and then gave a small huff of mock annoyance. "Giants. I'm surrounded by giants."
He grinned and then lifted a hand to his lips as he lowered his voice. "There should be two guards on our door. I want you to stay in here until I tell you it's clear."
"Why?" Grace's voice held curiosity, but no judgment. His body was already on high alert.
"Because we have to be quiet. And if I fire my gun, it will draw attention." Already his hand was on the knife once more, drawing it out before he pulled a second from one of his bracers. She understood instantly what the presence of those blades meant. All traces of humor vanished as the sobering reality of the fact that their escape meant killing sank in. Even so, Ronon watched as she yet again displayed that internal steel that he'd been so surprised co-existed with her innate kindness. Usually one trumped the other. It was yet another facet of this woman that fascinated him. Ronon stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Hey." The reluctance in her eyes was clear. "I got this. Ready?"
Grace trained her eyes on Ronon as he stood in front of her. Even now, he was prepared to kill to keep her safe. A part of her regretted it, but another larger part of her knew that staying and trusting the Elders to keep their promise to release them wasn't an option anymore. Not for Ronon, and not for her. She didn't know why, but something to do with whatever the girl must have said to him had changed his perspective drastically in a short time.
She reached up and spoke quietly. "Give me the bag. You can move faster and quieter without it. It's not that heavy."
He stared for a moment and then nodded, sliding it from his shoulders and handed it to her. She saw something in his eyes, something unreadable as she settled it onto her own back. It really wasn't that heavy. She'd seen him unload it of anything that wasn't a necessity. It held little more than the remains of the first aid kit and the laptop and scanner. She followed him to the entryway, watching as he reached out and lifted the latch.
Ronon opened it a crack and tipped his head, listening before peering out into the hallway. When he did move, it was with a deadly grace and speed that she could barely comprehend. She heard only a startled gasp and then a thud before the sounds of a struggle hit her ears. A moment later, there was a second thud and silence. The door was pushed open a second later and Ronon lifted a hand to his lips, bloodied knife still held in his grip as he jerked his head for her to come out.
She followed him down the hallway, staying as quiet as she could, grateful she wore sturdy, quiet boots instead of a more fashionable footwear choice. Even so, she could hear her own footsteps echoing in the wake of his own as he held up a hand as they neared the corner of the corridor. A second later, he was on her, his body pressing hers against the wall and into one of the recesses along the wall before she heard the footsteps he must have heard first, coming up the steps.
He was barely more than blur as he stepped out and drove the first knife into the guard's throat, the second coming down to dart in and out of the man's abdomen in a display of quick violence that reminded her that Ronon wasn't just another man from the Pegasus galaxy. He was a trained killer. As Grace saw the man's body hit the floor and Ronon jerked his head again for her to come out, she realized he was good at it. He was very good at it.
He led her toward the stairs, pausing at the top to listen. He held up a hand for her to stay put as he began to descend them slowly, weapons held at the ready. A second later, she heard a groan and then a thump. She was learning what that thump meant. "Let's go." His voice carried up the stairs quietly and she didn't hesitate to take them two at a time.
She could see the door. Freedom was so fucking close. Ronon was moving more quickly now as he steered her away from the main door and toward the left, down the narrow hallway that ran off the room where they'd been served food and drinks during after their arrival. One of the arches loomed close and as she drew near, she watched as he tucked the knives away, his arm coming around her waist and wordlessly plucking her from her feet.
A moment later, she was delivered onto the grass outside. She realized instantly why he'd chosen this route. It was to the side of the temple, out of view. But more importantly, it wasn't gravel like the main pathway. If there were more guards, and there likely were, the grass could save their lives. He was smart. Far smarter than McKay, or any of them, had given him credit for.
He gripped her hand, pulling her behind him as he headed across the garden toward the wall. The large shrubs offered some measure of protection from the windows of the temple and she heard the sound of voices from the arched gateway. Ronon stiffened as they drew near. On instinct, she pressed herself against the wall. When she felt his hand release her own, she glanced down, catching sight of his signal to crouch. It was only after he'd glanced at her to ensure she had obeyed that he placed his back to the wall and crouched in front of her. He bent his head to speak. "There are three. I can take them, but they'll attract attention. Listen to me carefully."
Already, Grace didn't like where this was going. She nodded even as the sight of his sober expression sent a bolt of genuine fear through her for the first time. He kept his voice low as he spoke. "When I tell you to go, you take off at a dead run. Straight down the main road, don't stop even after you get out of the city. You head for the tree line. Stay off the path but close enough that you can see. I'll be right behind you. If I'm not there in ten minutes, you head for the gate and you don't stop for anything or anyone. You got it?"
She shook her head instantly, her mouth opening to object. Ronon's voice was harder now, his hand lifting to grip her chin. "I'm in charge. Remember?" There was something in his tone that made her hesitate. He continued more quietly, his tone serious. "Promise me, Grace. Ten minutes then you run."
Grace drew in a breath and gave a nod. The fear wasn't for her, she realized in that moment. It was for him. She bit her lower lip and nodded again, more firmly this time. "Okay. I promise. Ten minutes."
He stared at her for a moment longer and then rose to his feet, flattening his body against the wall. She was grateful she couldn't see him as he moved, knives once more in each hand, ready to strike. She heard the cry of surprise, and then the sound of a struggle. A second later, she heard Ronon's voice in an angry snarl. "Grace, go!"
She rose to her feet and darted past where one guard lay dead, his throat cut. Ronon was wielding the knives in a deadly dance as he fended off the other two. She hesitated for a moment, turning back toward Ronon's roar as one of the guards managed to disarm him. He didn't even look at her as he roared, "GO!"
With that, she did. She turned and sprinted down the main drag of the city, eyes on the main gate in the distance. Chaos erupted around her as the people realized there was a fight, that someone was attacking the guards. Before she realized what was happening, bodies closed in around her, surging toward the temple gates. Horror began to bleed into her awareness as she realized that she and Ronon had just very likely set off some kind of insurrection if there had been one planned.
She fought her way through the crowd just as she saw the guards who began to appear from nowhere. They paid her no attention as she picked up her pace and wove her way around the throng of moving bodies and toward the gate just as it began to move. Some guard had finally gotten the bright idea to close it and yet she saw no one nearby. Belatedly she realized they had to be working it from some kind of mechanical room in the guard house. She took her chance and hiked the skirts of the robe up around her knees, ignoring the angry shouts that came from behind her.
It wasn't until she'd cleared the tree line as she'd been told to do that she dared slow. She turned just in time to see the massive gate slam shut. All she could hear were the screams and shouts of the people inside. Fear slammed through her along with the adrenaline. She would have to be able to move quickly. She looked at her watch, setting the timer with shaking fingers. Ten minutes.
Sliding the backpack back on her shoulders, she stared at the gate, eyes scanning the wall for any sign that he was behind her. The minutes ticked by and with each one, the fear deepened. Grace bit her lower lip, praying to God that this wasn't how it ended. Yet again, she wanted to kill McKay for getting them into this mess. No power source, ZPM or otherwise was worth this.
To Grace's horror, she felt tears welling up in her eyes and the bottom dropped out of her reality when she heard the faint beeping of the timer on her watch go off. Ten minutes. She closed her eyes for a moment and then swallowed before she took a step back. Ten minutes. She'd promised.
A moment later the sound of heavy footfalls trampling the ground cover came from behind her, Ronon's familiar voice shouting from behind. "Head for the gate! Go!"
She didn't stop to look for him, to even see where his voice was coming from. Hope slammed into her in one moment and she simply took off at a dead run. That eerie trust she had in him spurred her onward as she headed for the path and sprinted for all she was worth. A few seconds later, she heard the sound of Ronon's gun firing. It had been nearly a half-hour walking from the gate when they'd arrived and now they still had to cover that same distance.
The sound of gunfire ceased and a moment later, Ronon's hand gripped her by the wrist, very nearly dragging her behind him. "Come on." She kicked up the pace as fast as she could, struggling to meet his much longer stride. She felt as if she were running a marathon and her lungs were burning by the time he deigned to let her slow to a jog. By the time she could breathe again, she knew something horrible had happened but she didn't have the breath to ask questions.
By the time the gate came into view, she could hear the shouts from behind them. She saw Ronon's face set in stony determination as he flung her toward the trees with a swung of his wrist. "Get down!"
This time, Grace didn't hesitate to obey him. He was already breathing as heavily as she was from their runs and he'd done far more physical labor than simply running. She heard the electronic hum of his gun as he switched it to another setting, probably from stun to kill, she guessed. He fired off a shot as he began to dial an address. She watched as he ducked down behind the DHD, reaching up and over it as he fired off another few shots as he jabbed at the symbols.
It was the movement of someone who had done this more than once, dialing for a getaway while under fire. Dimly, Grace had to wonder just how many times he'd done this exact thing in the past. She heard the shouts from the trees a few dozen yards away as he hit the last symbol and whirled out of the way as one bold guard rushed him. Ronon sent the man reeling back with a powerful kick to his midsection just as the wormhole projected outward. Grace winced at the sight of the man's upper body instantly dissolving as the wormhole settled back and the event horizon stabilized. The corpse hit the ground as Ronon shouted out the words to her. "Let's go!"
She launched herself toward the gate just as a shot from one of the stunners whizzing past Ronon clipped her in the shoulder. It was like getting hit with a taser, a white-hot sensation of being zapped shooting up her left arm. Ronon's weight barreled into her as he hurled himself at her, firing off another series of shots to fend off whoever was chasing them, sending them both tumbling into the void.
Ronon hit the ground, rolling with Grace as they came through the wormhole. A split second later, the shots he'd been trying to avoid materialized as well, hitting a nearby tree. Not a moment too soon, the gate cut off behind them and there was only the ragged sound of his own panting, her wheezing gasps for air on top of him as she too, tried to recover from the longest sprint he'd taken since he'd been relieved of the tracking device.
She rolled off him a moment later, groaning as she clutched at her shoulder, then falling back to sprawl on the ground beside him. She was the first to speak, relief mingling with pain in her voice. "We made it. You're a certifiable genius, Ronon Dex."
He pushed himself up to a seated position as his racing heart finally began to slow and he breathed a bit easier. She was still sprawled out but was at least looking a bit calmer. The panic in her eyes had been what had truly concerned him when they'd come under fire when the second wave of temple guards had finally gotten their shit together and given chase. The stunner had hit her in the shoulder and he knew from experience that it stung like a bitch, but that she would be fine. He exhaled as relief flooded him. A moment later, he registered her moving on the grass in front of the gate on the planet he'd brought them to and sitting up. "Where are we?"
Ronon had dialed the address simply because it was the first one that had come to mind as the safest place. He glanced toward the gate and pushed out the words, still a bit out of breath. "Used to come here when I was a runner. It was where I'd come when I was injured. Something about it screwed with their tech." He explained shortly as he powered off his gun and tucked it into the holster at the back of his belt. "We couldn't risk them seeing the address for Atlantis. Don't worry. We're safe. The Wraith only found me here once."
He closed his eyes and gave himself mental permission to relax for a moment. "Just let me catch my breath then we'll dial Atlantis. I just need a second." It was an admission that didn't come easily. But he'd taken more hits during their escape than he would admit to out loud. He'd been hit twice with stunners himself. It was only his resistance to them and the fact that the shots had come a few precious seconds apart that had kept him on his feet as long as he'd managed it.
He heard the rustling of grass as she rose to her feet. She was unsteady, covered head to toe in dirt, and even from where he lay on the ground, staring up at her, he could see the angry mark on her shoulder where he'd bitten her, thanks to the robes she wore having slipped off one shoulder.
Ronon pushed himself into a seated position, watching as she began to pull the robes and scarf from her head, dropping them, along with the cording, to the ground. He wasn't sorry to see them go. His gaze dropped to the ground as she made her way to the DHD and he closed his fingers around the cording, coiling it up and tucking it into his pocket as he rose to his feet. The urge to keep the cording was insane, especially since his mind went straight into the gutter, imagining those slender wrists bound with the soft silk.
He made his way to the DHD, his voice steadier, though he was still slightly breathless. "Let's go."
She stood beside him, like a shadow, remaining close. It was hard to believe it had been less than a day since they'd left Atlantis in the first place. Everything in Ronon's world had shifted in the last twenty four hours and he wasn't sure exactly what that meant for either of them. As soon as they were through the gate and it had shut off behind them, he heard her breathe out a soft sound of relief.
A few seconds later Weir appeared, descending the steps from the ops level to approach. Ronon watched as she took in their disheveled state and the fact they were both covered in dust and grass. When she spoke, her voice betrayed genuine concern. "What happened?"
Ronon opened his mouth to speak, but Grace beat him to it, no trace of her usual smile on her face. "They do have some kind of a power source, but it's not a ZPM. I have data for McKay to review. But I really think that the next time Ronon says it's a bad idea to go somewhere, we should listen."
He reached out to take the backpack from Grace, his voice low as he fought the urge to gloat over the vindication. "We weren't able to get close enough to find out what it was. We were locked in a room nearly the entire time we were there."
Weir's eyes widened as she nodded. "Do you need to go to the infirmary?"
"We're okay." Grace's voice held a trace of relief this time. "I would kill for a hot shower and some food before we're debriefed."
Relief filtered through him as Weir didn't question her before she nodded. "Okay. I'll let Rodney know you're back and then see all of you in the conference room in two hours."
Grace was surprised when Weir let them go with only a few words, and even more surprised when Ronon fell into step beside her as she headed for the transporter. He was still carrying the backpack as he took up position beside her and reached out to tap the icon for the crew quarters atrium level. When they emerged, he reached out and gently took her by the elbow. "Come with me."
Butterflies launched in her belly as she let him direct her down the corridor. When they drew close, he released his hold on her arm and reached out to tap the controls to unlock the door. He jerked his head toward the door as it slid open. Curiosity drove her to follow him inside the room. As the door slid closed behind her, Grace peered around herself.
His room was about the same size as hers, but that was where the similarities ended. It was a living study in masculine decor. .He'd placed the mattress on the floor and built what looked like a nest of plush furs and pillows. There weren't many things, a few he'd obviously brought from his homeworld. A painting hung over the bed, strong vibrant shades of red emphasizing the four figures who stood in a victorious pose, dressed in full battle gear. The books she'd given him were stacked neatly on the bedside table beside a reading lamp and candles.
Ronon lowered the backpack to the bed and crouched to open it, drawing out the equipment from inside. It wasn't until he stood in front of her that she saw the hesitation in those green eyes. Clearly, he wanted to say something, but was reluctant. Grace reached out to accept the tablet and the scanner. Finally, he drew in a breath and expelled it slowly before he broke his silence. "Weir is going to ask questions. I need to know what you want to tell her."
Her heart skipped a beat at those words. It was barely more than an hour before that this man had been inside her, scattering her world into pieces yet again. She could feel the flush of color rising from her neck as she considered his words. "I… I think some things should stay private."
His expression was unreadable as he gave a slow nod. "Okay." There was another moment of hesitation and in that moment, something struck her that she'd not considered before. It was in front of her face the entire time. Ronon was shy. He hid it well, beneath layers of aggression and brash words when he did speak. But there was an undeniable vulnerability to the mountain of a man who stood before her now. When he did speak, his voice was soft. "I'm sorry, if I hurt you."
When she frowned at him in question, Ronon simply lifted a hand and gently pushed the neckline of her dress to the side, his thumb brushing over the spot on her shoulder. The light touched smarted and instantly she realized what he was talking about. Grace's face flamed as she cleared her throat. "You didn't."
He merely arched one brow as he dropped his hand and shrugged. "I don't believe you." The words were flat as he turned away and began to pull his shirt over his head, heading for the bathroom. "I'll see you in Weir's office." The words were a dismissal if she'd ever heard one and for a moment, she wondered if she'd done something wrong. He was so damn hard to read that she had no real way of knowing what he meant or was thinking. For the first time since she'd met him, Grace felt a thread of frustration with this man. She turned to go, clutching her equipment to her chest. It made no sense. He made no sense.
Ronon remained nearly silent throughout the briefing. The shower he'd taken was so cold it had successfully banished the response he'd had to Grace's skin bearing the angry red marks of his teeth in her pale flesh. The sight should have sickened him. It was visible proof that he was capable of hurting her, even if he never had the intention to. The fact that she'd stood there and lied to his face even as he'd gazed at the outline of his own teeth emblazoned in her flesh only served to make him irrationally angry. Though whether that anger was directed at her or himself, even Ronon wasn't completely sure.
Two hours later, his mood was no better as he sat across the table from McKay, listening to the man as he questioned Grace about the results of the scan. She'd patiently explained to him why they'd been unable to get closer. It was frustrating to listen to as she repeated herself no fewer than four times, only to have McKay rebut her each and every time. McKay was a deeply good person, but when it came to what he viewed as necessary information, he turned outright annoying.
Grace's voice was level as she repeated herself, yet again rephrasing the reasons for not pursuing more intel. "We were locked in a room and being watched virtually the entire time. You're lucky Ronon was smart enough to figure out they weren't watching the damn bathroom."
"The entire reason I picked you for this, Becque, was because you were supposed to be the one person on this entire base who could figure out how to get around whatever hokey rules they had in place and get the information I need to do my job. My much more important job." McKay's annoyance was evident in his voice.
"That's enough." Weir's voice was tense as she turned her eyes to McKay. "Rodney, we got the information we need. It's not a ZPM."
Ronon's gaze flicked to Grace, watching as she bowed her head. The flush creeping up her neck was now familiar to him, but this time it was not in a good way. McKay continued, his voice holding the first notes of resignation even as he gave it one last shot. "No, it's not a ZPM but my team can't determine the exact kind of power source without more data. You need to go back."
"Back?" This time it was Grace who blurted out the word without regard for their boss's presence. "Fuck that."
"Dr. Becque!" Weir's consternation mingled with surprise. "Let's keep it professional, please."
Grace jabbed a finger toward where McKay sat across the table from them both. "No. Professional ended the second they ushered us into a room and locked the door with the expectation that Ronon would rape me while they watched."
Weir's eyes widened, flicking from Grace to him. Ronon shook his head minutely. At this, his boss straightened in her chair, clearly addressing Grace. "Ronon didn't-"
This time, Grace's annoyance was directed toward Weir. "Of course he didn't. Because both he and I are, as you said, professionals. We came up with a plan, we enacted that plan, and Ronon got us out before things could get worse. And believe me, that's not even the worst of what they wanted him to do. So for McKay to sit here and complain that I didn't do enough? To expect that I would go back there after we barely got out the first time- it's him you should be having this discussion with."
The older woman sagged back in her seat, seemingly at a loss as she looked toward Ronon, who simply sat stoically quiet. McKay had the audacity to open his mouth to speak again. This time Grace gave a sound Ronon had never heard from her, a growl of frustration as she jabbed a finger in McKay's direction. "No. You do not get to speak anymore. They were shooting at us, Rodney. Ronon had to kill no fewer than seven people to make sure that we got out alive to get you that damn data."
McKay clamped his mouth closed and for the first time, Ronon saw hesitation bleed into his eyes. He opened his mouth once more and Grace bared her teeth, looking every inch a Satedan woman as she shook her head. "You still don't get to talk. You put my life in danger. You put Ronon's life in danger because you wouldn't listen to him when he tried to tell you it was a stupid plan. You did that, McKay. Because you wouldn't listen."
"Oh now you're just over-exaggerating." This time, McKay made the deadly mistake of rolling his eyes. Ronon saw the instant that Grace registered the movement. As McKay opened his mouth to speak once more, he was met with a stony glare and the squeaking of wheels as the tiny woman rose to her feet and whirled on her heel.
Ronon waited until she'd stalked out of the room to break his silence. "Good job, McKay." With that, he stood as well and without even waiting for Weir's dismissal, left the conference room.