9
Ronon arrives, finding the mess dark, with the chairs piled atop clean tables. He hears glass clinking and follows the sound into the back. The kitchen lights are on. There are four people, two men and one woman piling clean dishes into the bins for the next morning, and Jax behind them drying her hands.
She's wearing the same baggy, gray uniform as the other three and her hair is piled high on her head, dark curls breaking free around her neck, a few strands stuck to her moist forehead. Thin wires come from her ears down to a small white box clipped to her pants at the waist. She tosses the towel over her shoulder and nods to him. "Grab a chair from the mess."
The others glance at him momentarily then go back to stacking. Ronon takes the nearest chair and carries it back into the kitchen. Jax waves him over to her end, pointing him to set it down in front of a low basin. "Sit," she says. Ronon drops into the chair.
"Night, Jax." One of the men calls, waving.
"Goodnight Owen." She nods to the other two. "Cassie, Jeff."
"Night," they say in unison. They briefly glance at Ronon, but say nothing and their expressions are as blank and emotionless as Jax's.
Once their gone, Ronon grunts. "Friendly." He glances at Jax, her eyes seem a bit glazed and her face slightly pink.
The towel disappears from her shoulder. "They're tired," she says. "Lean back." As he does, she lifts his hair into the basin. Ronon can feel the towel pillowing his neck. As she leans over to turn on the water, Ronon can hear music coming from her ears, the same that she danced to earlier. And she's humming to it.
When the warm water hits his head, it's nothing new, but as she leans over and starts massaging something into his scalp, a warm tingle travels from his head, down his back to his toes until his whole body relaxes. Sheppard wasn't lying. Before he realizes it, his eyes are closed and his mind wanders over the events of the day…
He's back outside the gym, watching Jax float through the air. She spins and jumps, turns and kicks all with the grace of a bird in lift-off. Her hair spills from the top of her head, tumbling in ringlets over her shoulders and down her back. Longer than it really is. She twirls again, stopping mid-turn to smile at him, dark eyes gleaming, but she's changed. Jax is replaced by a beautiful face long gone. "Ronon," the young woman sighs happily.
"Nally!" Ronon jerks, opening his eyes, nearly bursting from the chair. Jax jumps away from him, crouching in fighting stance, her hands covered in soap. Ronon looks around, coming back to his senses. He clears his throat and leans back against the sink. "Sorry." Her eyes narrow but, otherwise, Jax doesn't move a muscle. Ronon looks up at the ceiling, deciding it's best to keep his eyes open, no matter how relaxed he gets.
It takes a couple moments before she returns and rinses his hair. "Who was she?" Jax asks softly, massaging some other liquid into his scalp. He can feel her fingers gently tug on his 'dreads'. Though he doesn't say anything, Jax seems to sense what he's thinking. "Someone you loved."
Ronon shifts in the chair. "Yes." Jax continues working the liquid to the ends of his hair. She starts humming along with her music again. Ronon reaches over and yanks the wires, pulling the earpieces out. "Turn it off."
Surprisingly, she doesn't jump away in her usual manner. Instead, she does as he says, pressing a button on the white box, without objection. "Better?" Ronon nods.
She turns on the water again, but doesn't rinse his hair. Then the water shuts off and she moves to a nearby rack, pulling out a towel and drying her hands. Jax looks at her time piece, then folds her arms and leans against the rack, closing her eyes. "Five minutes," is all she says.
Ronon's gaze is drawn to her when she sighs. Her face slack with exhaustion and it seems a bit redder than before, glistening with a light sheen. She doesn't have any lines marking her age. If Sheppard's theory is correct, she should be older than Ronon by several seasons…just as Nally. If Sheppard's theory is correct, she should be dead…just as Nally.
"Who did it?" He asks suddenly and Jax's eyes pop open. Her left hand automatically goes to the hidden spot under her uniform then just as quickly continues up to her neck as if that was the destination the whole time. "Who taught you to kill?"
The briefest of smiles starts at the corner of her mouth and her face softens, she looks even younger than before, almost happy. "He taught me to survive," she says in a handful of breaths.
Ronon now knows that this man…this trainer, meant more to Jax than her own life. Not unlike Nally did to him. "What is there to survive on Earth? No Wraith-"
And with a single blink of the eyes, her expression turns flat, emotionless. "Mankind is its own death, we don't need the Wraith."
"Why did you need it…need to survive?"
She stares at him with that cool, unblinking, unfeeling gaze. Expressing nothing. Giving away nothing of herself. Always hiding behind that impossibly blank mask. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." Ronon raises his brows. She tilts her head. "I saw something I shouldn't have…and remembered everything."
"You're a runner," he says firmly. "Like me."
A twitch in her upper lip and a sudden sparkle in her eyes proves to Ronon there is someone somewhere inside that graceful body, held prisoner behind that mask. A soul that floats on the air with music. In that instance, he knows that soul belongs to someone else. Sheppard is correct. Maggie Jackson is a lie.
She pulls a small bottle from her pocket, shakes out two white pills then pops them into her mouth and swallows before closing the bottle and stuffing it back into her pocket.
"Are you ill?"
"Preventive measures."
"Preventing what?"
"Stress." She glances at her wrist then returns to the basin and rinses his hair. She spends several moments wringing excess water from his mane before returning to the rack and tossing him a large towel. "We're done."
Ronon stands up, leaving the towel on the chair and shakes his head, sending water drops flying about the kitchen. For a moment he could swear he hears Jax chuckle, but when he glances at her, she's leaning against the rack, arms crossed and eyes closed. Ronon touches his hair. It does feel…better. "Thank you."
"Here to serve," she says, opening her eyes. They still look glazed and the pink in her face has darkened again.
"Jax…?"
"I need to clean up." She motions to the open end of the kitchen. "If you don't mind. I'd like to get out of here sometime this century."
Once again, she makes him feel he has to comply. Since the strange dream, he now realizes why Jax affects him so easily. Why her tone and defiance annoys him to no end, and yet he's willing to put up with her. Nally used to treat him the same…and he always obeyed.
With a simple glance in his direction or a tilt of her head, Nally had his complete obedience. Though, unlike with Jax, Ronon did everything Nally asked simply to make her happy. Seeing her smile had been the best part of every day of his life.
Until she was gone. Stolen away in the beginning of her life. Stolen by the Wraith.
He'd pushed her memory away for so long and now it comes back in full force, threatening to overpower him…break him. He closes his eyes tight. The rage he has for the Wraith is barely contained on a moment to moment basis and he can feel the anger tightening his muscles, boiling his blood as it pounds in his ears. His hands curl into fists and his arms tense and bulge.
When he opens his eyes, he sees Jax moving away from the rack, pushing herself into a tight corner of the wall, as far away from him as she can get. Ronon has seen hatred and rage in her eyes…this is the first time he's seen fear.
And he's causing it.
Though she's still backing away, that fear is quickly covered by the ice shield she no doubt perfected over the years. "Leave now," she says steely. She doesn't yell or scream as many other frightened females might. And as he watches, Ronon sees she's not pushing herself into a corner to hide, but from which to launch an attack…if necessary.
Ronon forces himself to relax. He drops his gaze to the floor and apologizes quietly. "You remind me of…" From under his brows, he locks eyes with Jax. "Her." He takes a deep breath. "The Wraith came…I watched her die."
She nails him with that hard gaze, keeping her tone level, emotionless. "I'm sorry you're wife…girlfriend… whatever…died. It happens. You deal. You move on. And if you're lucky…you forget."
"You've never lost someone you love," Ronon spits.
Jax draws herself upright coming out of the corner, hands in tight fists, eyes blazing with rage, jaws clenched, body ready to spring for attack. "I lose everyone I love," she growls, the rumble coming from deep inside. "And I don't get the convenience of blaming the Wraith," she spits back. "I kill them." He stares at her, speechless.
"You're not special, Ronon Dex." She looks him up and down with those hateful eyes. "And we are nothing alike." Her defiant gaze locks onto his again. "Now get out of my face, before I get testy."
Ronon doesn't move. He can't. His booted feet seem to be stuck to the floor. It's her eyes again. All that hatred and rage. At first he'd felt it flowing out of her, at everyone else, blaming the universe and beyond…but there's only one target for all that fury…herself.
If he pulled his gun and aimed it at her face, she would probably stare down the barrel and wait patiently for him to shoot.