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Chapter 3I took a moment to empty Sheppard's bag into one of the clean clothesbaskets. I'd done something similar for my taskmaster, for other superior officers, and I found myself falling into those habits more and more. I paused for a second, wondering at that fact that when I was most comfortable, I was replicating my time in the service of my planet.
Sateda.
I wasn't the only one alive.
But I found myself somewhat - reluctant - to go and find the other couple of hundred that had apparently survived. What would I have in common with them, anyway, anymore? I didn't suppose anyone else had been fitted with a tracker and set to run, and I knew, absolutely, I had no family left. I had seen them taken or killed.
I sat on the edge of the bed a moment, folding the backpack neatly, absently.
That simple observation, if I had made it in public on Atlantis, would have made the Earthers uncomfortable. The women would have given me sympathetic looks, the men would have shown gruff solidarity by vowing revenge on the 'whole damn Wraith race', and I'd be no closer to dealing with it than I'd ever been before.
They'd taken me out of that cocoon and told me I had a chance to live a bit longer - though there was a catch. Then they told me what they wanted me to do.
Of course I said yes.
The one who'd put the implant in had told me the last two hadn't lasted a month, and that he didn't expect I would either. Then I was off, and I didn't have time to mourn. Now that I did have the time, I found I didn't have the emotion. So much had happened between then and now.
I shoved the pack under the bed, thinking that I should go for a run; maybe it would break me out of the mood I was in. I'd taken to running with Sheppard; I'd always liked exercising with company. In the service, most didn't like the daily troop run, but I never minded it. The steady beat of another pair, or seven, of feet made it easy for me. And that made me stop as another thought crossed my mind.
What would I do if I ran into some of my old acquaintances? Maybe someone I'd served with - other than that kraken taskmaster who still haunted my dreams - someone I'd liked?
Would there be any common ground? Or was my life now here, with the assortment of people of different colours, and accents, and professions that occupied Atlantis?
"Damn it," I whispered. Now I had way too much time to think. On Atlantis I would have simply gone and found someone to spar with, or done some training with the Earth weapons. Here, it was grass and trees and everyone was friendly, and there wasn't much else to do but think. This was what Beckett had hoped for when he included me on the mandated holiday. Sneaky bastard.
I heard a familiar step outside the drape and pushed the backpack farther under the bed, standing as Sheppard made his way into the tent.
"And does it meet with your approval?" the Colonel asked dryly.
"No," I said bluntly. "Not defensible. No protection."
Sheppard raised his eyebrow as he walked carefully towards the chair. "Protects us from the rain, Ronon. Sun. Bugs. That's all we need, here."
"I'm taking your word for it," I said, standing and steering Sheppard toward the bed instead. "Here. I unpacked the bag already. Sack out for a bit."
It was a measure of the man's condition that he only made a token protest as I eased him down, pulling the half-laced boots off and a colourful blanket up and over him. "Don't get used to this, Sheppard," I growled as I did it. "It's not what I'm best at."
"Agreed," the pilot replied, smirked a bit as he said it. "I'll be out in a few minutes. Don't let Rodney eat all the pastries."
"Pastries?" I grinned down at my commander. "Later."
"Hey!"
Chapter 4
I sat straight up; eyes open in the dark. Something had woken me - a cry? It wasn't repeated, but I trusted my senses, and if my sub-conscious told me I should be awake, I listened to it.
I stood. I'd committed the place to memory during the day, and I found my shirt and vest where I'd left them. Pulling them on, I listened hard, but the noise wasn't repeated. Around the tents the night noises of the planet continued unconcernedly, and I took my cue from them that all was well outside. That left inside.
I pushed the drape aside and moved to the table. It was almost pitch dark, only small shafts of moonlight lit the interior, but it was enough for me to find a lantern and light it. I moved quietly to Sheppard's doorway. The heavy cloth didn't hinder my hearing, and I could tell the Colonel slept peacefully, snoring slightly.
That left only McKay. Who wasn't sleeping.
I stood outside that doorway for a few seconds, listening to the quiet breaths - too quiet, as if he were trying to hide - and suddenly realized the room inside had to be pitch black, far too similar to another chamber he'd been trapped in. Swearing at myself for being dense, I pulled the drape aside slightly and moved the lantern to where the man inside could see it.
"Hey. McKay. I'm putting some stew on, I'm hungry. Want some?"
I waited, not opening the hanging any further, hearing the breathing steady, become more normal.
"Yeah," McKay replied quietly. "Yeah. I'll be right out."
I let the drape fall back, but pulled the extra fabric at the bottom a bit so it stayed open a few inches. Hearing McKay climb out of bed, I went to the stove.
It had been lit after supper against the cool evening breeze, but it was as much to have the comfort of having a fire as the need to keep warm. The blaze had died, but the embers had been banked with ash and glowed still. It took me only a few moments to bring the fire back to life. I put the grill over it, moving the pot with the remains of the vegetable stew back onto the heat, and pulled out a heel of bread that had been overlooked earlier.
McKay pulled the drape aside and wandered out, yawning.
"I guess I woke you up. Bad dream," the physicist said, and lifted two bowls from the box next to the jugs that held our drinking water, passing them to me. He went back to the box, managing to remove two spoons and two mugs, setting them on the table. I watched from the corner of my eye, but he seemed to be doing okay.
"Had to feed the fire," I replied. "Gets too damn dark in here. Can't see the stars."
I was satisfied to see the man nod. "Guess tents weren't something you worried much about when you were running." It was said with a careful tone of voice, an invitation to talk if it was wanted, a simple observation if it wasn't, and I found myself grateful for the ambiguity. It wasn't usually McKay's way; I had figured he didn't know what tact was, but that question made it clear he did. It was just that, like me, he considered it something you only brought out for special occasions.
Still, I wasn't inclined to talk too much about that time. Yet? Maybe ever.
I filled the bowls and placed one in front of McKay, who had manipulated the jug to top up our mugs with water from a stream that had been vetted by Beckett and guaranteed pure.
I sat and raised my mug in salute, McKay returning the toast, two handed, after a second. The second dinner was as good as the first.
The first edge of hunger sated, McKay braced the bread between the heels of his hands and tore a thick wedge off with his teeth. "You're the first person I've met who can keep up with me with food. Sheppard wouldn't understand the midnight munchies," he informed me, dunking the bread before taking a bite.
"Food wasn't a luxury for me," I replied. "Never had enough. Being here, I have too much choice." I sucked a bit of grain from my teeth. "Getting fat," I added, thoughtfully.
"Oh, yeah, right."
"Beckett said."
McKay tilted his head. "Did he?" He snickered. "Wish I'd seen that conversation."