I have the greatest beta-reader in the world. So there!

Notes: Thanks, you guys, for the wonderful comments. I'm very eager to know what you'll think of this chapter. It was hard to write, the characters involved aren't usually found in this type of discussion...well, fiction eh?

Dual

"Teyla! Wait!"

"Ronon, it is good to see you."

"How're people on the mainland?"

"They are doing quite well. Nissa is with child."

"She's joined with Lyvan?"

"She is. Lyvan took the news quite well, after he had regained consciousness."

They walked down the halls sharing news of the Athosian and of Atlantis, Teyla waiting to hear what had made Ronon chase after her. She had not to wait long.

"So, huh, you want to train? Still a few hours before Lokas comes." They had found him after three days of search. He had been away from his home for the last week and been quite shifty about it. All of which was of no consequence. He had agreed to help, had offered to come to them. The day was today. Ronon waited in equal parts eager anticipation and trepidation. Eager, because if someone would know of Mira's machination, and resultantly of Sheppard and McKay's whereabouts, it would be him. Trepidation because he had killed the man's sister. He reasoned that he had been allowed to leave, as had Sheppard. Obviously, Lokas did not hold a grudge.

"I would. Shall I meet you in the training room in ten minutes?"

"Yeah, see you there."

-------

The twack of the stick on her arm was not altogether unpleasant. He smiled smugly as she took position, watching him with a frown. They had not trained since their return from the squish, which was quite unusual for them, but Teyla had requested time to visit her people. He had not accompanied her, though she had offered. They both needed time to reflect on what had happened, to find some semblance of peace in troubled minds.

She was quieter than she had ever been, even slightly distracted, a sure sign that something was wrong. Ronon believed that the squish had brought this change. Perhaps she was unable to forget the numerous memories that had floated up to the surface. He refused to think of what would happen if he was ever made to relive past times. He had no doubt that is what it had felt like for her, for them. Whilst he had sat and watched, they had been caught in the past, the trauma of moments long gone.

They were alone in the training room and he believed it would be a good time to breach the subject. He had to be honest with her, could not keep his burden to himself nor force her to carry hers. He would help, if she needed him to, wanted him to.

He dodged a frontal attack and made his move. "I saw it."

She smiled slightly. "It is obvious you saw it, for had you not I would have placed a spectacular hit."

"I mean, on that planet. What the squish made you see…I saw it."

That stopped her. Her arm continued its elegant movement, the stick gliding through the air, but the other arm was not protecting her, it hung limply at her side. "What?"

"I saw it…what it made you see or relive. It was displayed."

Her eyes narrowed, her mouth thinned into a line. "What did you see?"

He wrestled with the idea of telling her; she would only be uncomfortable, but this was Teyla. After what he had done, she deserved his honesty. He was not a devious liar, an eavesdropping friend! "Everything you remember. It's there, isn't it? They've come back, the things you've had to forget." He moved to her, but did not reach out. He could only imagine what she was feeling and hoped she would see he had meant no harm, but wasn't sure what that would change. He wouldn't want to be bared like she had been, though there was no danger of his betrayal, no reason to feel adverse to the fact. He had gained new respect for his teammates and could now understand them better, work with them better, knowledgeable of their inner workings.

She moved to sit on the bench by the window. Silence filled the room and Ronon worried that perhaps this had been a bad course of action. No, it couldn't be. This was truth, honesty and reaching to help a friend. If she remembered all those things as clearly as he did, she could not be in a good place.

"They have…"

An overture had been made so he moved to sit beside her. "Yeah."

"I do not understand from where they have sprung."

"The squish. It made you three see things. Before we left, you saw it, images in midair?"

"Yes…"she frowns, "but you were there, as well as Lieutenant Ford. Those could not have sprung from John or Rodney."

She had used their proper names and it encouraged Ronon. They had grown close enough to warrant it, even when speaking of them, especially when speaking of them. They were John and Rodney now. Of course, to him, they were most regularly Sheppard and McKay, but he suspected it was a man's prerogative to use not the personal name, the smallest and most vulnerable. If Sheppard was Sheppard, he was strong, he was in charge, he was a killer, but when he became John, he was laughter, lazy evenings and concerned eyes. The same could be said for McKay. Irritating, boisterous, unsociable McKay; caring, passionate, and courageous Rodney.

"I don't think they did, but the idea is the same. That's what I saw."

"Everything?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry…I must go." She leapt up, as graceful as ever, and exited the room, leaving her sticks and her workout bag behind. He let her leave, giving her time. He would go see her after he had deposited his own effects in his quarters and gone to the control room to see if there were any words from Lokas.

Teyla had hurried to her quarters, seeking solitude. She was shocked. Ronon knew, had seen everything, yet she could not hold him responsible, she could not blame him and wished she had not run away. He had been so solicitous. She could console herself with the fact that he had not seen her most cherished memories. The ones she held onto, the ones she wanted, she prized above all else. Laughter and games, love and life. Those were a private sanctum, hers. She would not have taken kindly to sharing them.

She sat on the edge of her bed, slouching uncharacteristically and vainly attempted to push away the different memories that were striving to overtake her, a plaguing presence, ready to pounce on her conscious mind and spill over in a deluge of wet, salty drops. They had left John and Rodney there, to be taken over by so much more. For her, it had only been a day, two at the most and she was crippled, unable to focus, whispers of times long past keeping her attention. What would it be for them? Would the memories come to them, untiring in their persistence? Would they come from depths so obscure, they had never been revealed before?

No, what she had seen before…abandoning them, had not been a memory. She dreaded to think what was happening to them. What horrors they could subject themselves to. The whispers became insistent and she was no longer able to distract herself with guilt. She saw her sister, but not as she wished to remember her. She was bloodied, battered, terrified. Her father just the same. She saw only the blood and gore of her life, the hurt and despair. It would not do! She would not remember them so! She would honour their lives, recall the smiles and the love. She forced herself to reflect on the better part of her life and it pained her. It had never been a conscious effort before. The squish had ruined everything. She felt a hate for the Lady Celebrant rise, the need to destroy her as she had and still was destroying them. In the silence of her room, she spoke, spitefully, hatefully, and it felt good.

"Have you not done enough? Prey on others whom you can defeat. You will never take us! You will never draw us apart! We are stronger than a foolish girl who seeks power! I will not let you conquer me! I will not let you take us! I will not! I will see that you pay for your actions as Oblee has paid for hers! Ronon was right in taking her life! You do not deserve to walk the soil the Ancestors have giving you!"

She stopped, appalled. Vengeance and a thirst for blood had always been so easily controlled! She was lost! Her soul was tarnished and she could no longer turn to the people who had made her life beautiful, happy and light! What would she do? She was a lost soul! A lost soul…what was left of her? For her?

A knock came at the door. She did not answer, she did not want to see who was there, to present herself to anyone. The knock came again and it was joined by a voice, deep and rumbling.

"Teyla. Open the door."

She would not, she could not! She was tarnished, tainted, the blood in her veins as rotten as the one she had seen spilled or spilled herself!

"Open up. I'm not going away."

"Please do Ronon, I wish to be alone."

"You were, now I'm here. Open the door."

"There is no need for you to be here." She had moved to the door, she stood facing it, wanting to open it yet knowing she should not.

"Maybe not for you, but right now…" Ronon felt silent, unsure of how she would react to his thoughts.

She waited for him to complete his sentence.

He breathed in deeply and did. "You're the only one I have. Let me in."

He was right. They were not alone, though they might believe so. They had each other. They were two parts of a whole which could stand united against the universe. They had rid themselves of the Lady Celebrant and her cohort's nefarious influence before, they would do it again.

The door slid open and Ronon entered. She turned and sat on her bed, closer to the wall to make space for him. He deposited her bag on the floor by the door and followed.

He was the first to speak. "I'm sorry."

"There is no need for you to be."

"I know, but I am."

She accepted it. He had trespassed upon their privacy, through no wish of his own, and that would carry guilt.

"Not sorry enough not to tell you you're wrong."

She smiled tightly. "Wrong?"

"All that blood. It's not yours, not you."

She was surprised, how did he know? Ronon was one of the most perceptive man she knew outside her people, a sense developed by his years as a Runner no doubt, but even he could not have known of her earlier thoughts. "What do you mean?"

"There was some time where the same memories kept coming. I figured them to be the most important and…yours were full of…" he turned to her, watching her with a steady gaze. "It's not you. You're not blood and violence. It's not your life, but a part of it. It's a part of everyone's life here, you know that? Even the scientist…even McKay has blood in his life."

"Yes, but Rodney's blood was spilled in self-defence, to save his people. I have spilled more than he ever could. I have killed and enjoyed it."

"No. You have killed and enjoyed the outcome, keeping your people safe. Your blood is the same as McKay's and you have spilled more because that's what life is here. Don't you think I've spilled enough to fill a river or two? Don't you think Sheppard has spilled enough to do the same? I can't say I think it's me, and I don't think it's him either."

"No, no, it is not you, but we are all different people Ronon, with different experiences."

"We are, but we're also one and the same. The Wraith have made it that way."

She was about to protest but the klaxons filled the city. Their eyes locked as she raised her hand to her radio to learn that it was indeed Lokas.

He stood and offered her a hand in an unexpected show of gentleman manners. It was unnecessary but she accepted it, and if he pulled her too close when she stood, she would not have noticed. They exited the room, walking side by side, and made their way to the control room, where they hoped help stood.