I know how long it is! Yay! It'll be nine parts. And I know I'm repeating myself, but thanks for all the reviews.
Chapter 9
I was drifting, half awake, the scent of the morning carried in on an errant breeze. The fire was out, and someone had gone to the washroom during the night, neglecting to close the drape fully.
I hadn't heard whoever it was. I was annoyed with myself, but part of me was trying to remember the last time I'd slept so soundly.
"Good morning!" came the faint call from outside.
I pulled myself out of the chair, glancing at the couch opposite, which was as far as McKay had made it last night after complaining his feet were getting too hot. He was waking slowly, and the drape to Sheppard's room was still down.
Now, he sat. "Who's that?" he asked, yawning.
I pulled the entry drapes open, tying them off. It was full morning, and the sky was clear, the sound of the river reaching us faintly through the trees. I looked down the path, caught sight of figures in the trees, smelled something savoury. Teyla's voice could be heard, along with others.
"Breakfast," I said, pleased.
McKay stood and stretched. "I'll get Sheppard up," he said, and I left him to it, heading outside.
OoO
For the first couple of days, we did little more than eat, sleep, and talk. McKay and Sheppard read. I had acquired the basics of their written language, and I practiced some. Teyla had mastered it and helped me when Sheppard or McKay were too absorbed, but she and I spent a lot of time sparring, with an enthusiastic audience of kids. We stayed around the camp, the first days. It wasn't by request, or plan. We didn't want to split up, is all.
Beckett joined us for a "house call", he called it, at lunch, and stayed until supper the first day, then arrived just after breakfast the second day. I got the feeling this was as much a holiday for him as for us.
That evening we all ended up sprawled lazily around the fire, Sheppard reclining against a pile of cushions, and McKay sitting in one of the armchairs, feet up on a stump. I was feeding the fire as needed, and Teyla was talking quietly with Beckett to one side.
"I think that would be fine," I heard the doctor say. "If they hadn't the gene, it would have been another week or two before we could have considered it."
I poked the fire, watched the sparks climb into the darkening sky. I knew humans, as a rule, didn't recover as rapidly as had Sheppard and McKay, and had gone in search of an explanation. "The Ancients were advanced in the healing arts, as well," Beckett had explained in that accent of his. All the places I've been, I've never heard anything like it. The first couple of weeks I was here I took every opportunity to listen to him talk. "If either of the lads were true Ancients, they'd be whole and hearty now. As it is, though, these machines will speed the knitting of the bones and the closing of the incisions quite considerably. Even with the diluted gene it's amazing the progress they're making."
The resinous smell of the burning wood tickled my nose, and I sneezed. The wind had shifted, and I was in the smoke again. Sighing, I stood and shifted to one side, glancing at Sheppard as I did so. The man was frankly dozing, and McKay wasn't far behind.
"Think we should call it a night," I said.
Teyla looked up, then around, and nodded. "I agree."
It took only a few moments to persuade the other two, and then we saw Beckett off. Teyla joined me in the main room. Catching sight of McKay's curtain hanging open slightly, she made to close it, but I shook my head. "Dark," I said, and she understood.
She sank down on one of the cushions, beside me, with that grace that attracted admiring glances from - well - pretty much everyone. "You are well?"
I sighed. Earthers were always on about things. Talk, talk, talk. Maybe Teyla had picked up their habits. Still, I didn't want to be rude. "Better. Eating well. Sleeping…well enough."
"Dreams?"
"Nightmares."
She nodded. "I am having them as well. They are…disturbing."
I looked over. She was looking into the fire, and her face was obscured by her hair, but there was something in her voice. "Stay, if you want. I'm going to keep the fire in. You could use my room."
She drew a breath, and I could sense 'no', but then she looked up at me, and then over to Sheppard's room, and McKay's, and it changed. "Yes, I would like that."
I grunted, shifting some pillows behind me. I'd slept in far worse places and conditions. She stayed nearby for a short time, then rose.
"Goodnight, Ronon," she said.
"Night," I responded.
There was something about fire, I decided, a rhythm that seemed to take me back to my earliest memories, as a child hunting with my father. They were pleasant memories, for the most part. The problem was, though, they never lasted. They were elbowed out by more recent, less pleasant ones.
Here, though, sprawled in front of a fire with the three people who had come to mean the most to me sleeping nearby, here on my own, unchased, with plenty of time to think, I decided I could put up with whatever memories came.
Chapter 10It had taken far too long, and all the favours and markers we had to locate our missing people.
Weir had been canny, sending Teyla - as the person with the most experience in trade negotiations - and three of their soldiers - chosen for non-threatening appearance and proficiency in unarmed combat. It had turned out that the second ability was more useful. The four had barely made it back, but the intel had been vital. The hack of the primitive computer system gave us all the information we needed...more than I wanted.
The briefing had been hard. I had to control myself at the descriptions of what they were doing to my teammates.
But I could remember feeling a fierce pride, as well. We knew that the captors had been stymied by the lack of useable intel from their alien prisoners. The first reports, when Sheppard was trying misinformation, were enthusiastic. The responses from their superiors, who evidently knew more than the interrogators, were scathing. Then, there had been a long, rambling message sent from the warden's office to the seat of government trying to justify the lack of useful information retrieved.
The description of the techniques they'd tried had been - difficult - to read, though it had helped Beckett anticipate the injuries the rescue team would be dealing with. From other records, it had appeared that the entire society was organized so that survival was the only aim - children were born of loveless, temporary unions, past a certain age seniors were discarded in small colonies to live or die without assistance, and suicide of citizens no longer useful - the ill, those injured in accidents - was encouraged.
The prisoners were classified as criminals, but seemed to be from other planets – visitors like we were, maybe. Other explorers. The problem with a society of this sort was that rebellion would be a constant threat, and with the Stargate available there were options for those who were brave enough. They managed to create fear, though. When you're raised in a place that does terrible things to its visitors, then you're more inclined to think that anywhere you'd go you'd get the same treatment. The bodies that were left outside the gates, every now and then, were so badly disfigured as to act as a deterrent.
When the Wraith came, they had easy pickings from the old and infirm – not the best food around, but given a quick meal with quantity, they'd take it over spending energy chasing down younger meat. It was a practical solution, I thought, and it had enabled the society to develop almost as far as the Olesians, using the same principal. I knew, though, that when the Wraith arrived this time, they wouldn't be satisfied with old meat. It was conceivable their whole society would be destroyed.
Somehow, I felt I could live with that.
OoO
The third morning started as the first two had, but after breakfast Teyla glanced over at us and wrinkled her nose.
"We're not that bad!" Sheppard protested. "We've washed every day we've been here. Hot water, too."
She shook her head. "We have found something much better." And she resisted all enticements to clarify the statement, counseling patience.
OoO
"So, are we there yet?" McKay asked for the ninth time. The mid-day meal had arrived, and with it Beckett, ubiquitous medical kit with him.
It had been nine times McKay had asked. I had counted.
"Does it look like it?" Sheppard snapped.
McKay glanced around. "Not stopping. Nowhere to sit. Nothing to eat. Nope. We're not there yet."
"Knew you were that smart for a reason," Sheppard sighed, concentrating on the path.
I had questioned Beckett about their ability to manage the mile hike, but the doctor had been confident. "It's largely mental at this point," he'd assured me. "In fact, it could prove to them they're recovering exceptionally well."
It seemed to work. Their stiffness, that marked them to anyone watching as the weakest of the group, was vanishing as we walked. Sheppard was regaining his saunter, and McKay, his meander that somehow managed to keep up with the rest. He was regaining his voice, too.
There was silence for a moment.
"Are we there yet?"
Sheppard rounded on him. "McKay...!" but the rest of it died in his throat, and I glanced at the physicist, wondering what could cut short a Sheppard dress-down.
McKay was grinning at the Colonel. Just a grin, and it wasn't anything like the self-conscious ones, the apologetic ones, or the tight and mirthless ones I was used to seeing.
I saw the man grin and realized I'd never seen McKay truly happy before. Never. Until now.
They were alive. They'd survived an unimaginable ordeal, and they were alive and recovering, and all that grin said was that he was happy to be there.
Sheppard's face folded into a responding smile, and it grew into an amiable chuckle.
"Goof," he said, elbowing the physicist in a friendly way.
"Please. Goof. That's the best you can do?" McKay snorted.
"Descriptive, yet understated," Sheppard replied, the smile resolving itself to a smirk.
"Kiddies," Beckett stepped in. "We're here."