Understudy

Author: Cheryl W

Hey, I wanted you to know I'm still working on this fic, haven't abandoned it but it's taken some time to get back into the character's headspace. So here's another part!

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Chapter 14: Bitter Deja Vu

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Their rowdiness gained John's notice, as it did everyone in hearing distance in the backwater village, but it was the matching tattoos on the two men and the woman in the tavern that shocked John. He didn't let it show as he crossed the room to lean against the bar. In his time in Pegasus, he'd only seen that particular tattoo once: on Ronon.

Though Ronon had talked little of his home planet in his universe, John remembered it was called Satada and its reigning government had sold out more than half its people to broker a deal with the Wraith. Ronon hadn't mentioned this universe's Satada's fate but John had learned enough to know only Atlantis held any chance of withstanding the Wraith attacks. The other worlds in the galaxy were either destroyed, fed upon or their rulers made immoral pacts with the Wraith. And since Ronon hadn't run into any other Satadans during his time in this universe, it seemed more than likely that Satada had been decimated by the Wraith, leaving few survivors, scattered to the four winds.

Like these three.

Part of John wanted to rush out, find Ronon, make sure he didn't miss his chance to talk with them, hoping it would be meaningfully to Ronon, even if they were from a copy of his original homeworld. John himself had always welcomed the sight of other Americans in Afghanistan, felt a deep kinship to them since they were all so far from home.

Yet another part of John didn't want to encourage the connection, a spike of selfishness and fear at the heart of it. Worried that Ronon would find it more enticing to join up with fellow Satadans than continue to hope John would miraculously turn into the Sheppard he'd lost. 'Insecure much, John,' he internally castigated himself. Turning from the bar counter, intent on leaving the tavern and searching out Ronon to notify him that fellow Satadans were here, he nearly ran right into the shorter dark haired Satadan. He had to do a stumble stop to avoid the collision.

"Nice weapon, can I have it?" the man asked as if it were a reasonable request, a smirk on his face but his eyes cold.

"That would be a no," John gruffly refused, his hand tightening around the stock of his P90, would hate to kill the first other Satadan they'd stumbled into but he'd do what he had to do. Ronon would just have to understand, especially since he was always harping on John to put his own survival somewhere in close proximity to the number one spot in his thought process.

The Satadan woman walked around John, leaned close to his back and whispered in his ear, "We don't accept no's."

"Today you're going to have to," John steely replied, eyes not flickering to her but holding his first antagonist's cold gaze. All the while, he was planning how to counter the attack that might be coming, was trying to decide if he could make his counterattack nonlethal, considering Ronon might actually feel some affectionate connection to these A-holes.

The third A-hole joined the fun, came to the first Satadan's side then stepped into John's personal space, growled, his ale rank breath hitting John's face, "Where are you from? So we know where to send your remains!"

"Oh, I think I'm going to be the one heading to the Post Office to ship your pieces back home. Satada, right?" To make sure his threat wasn't unheeded, he jabbed the very sharp point of his, until now hidden, knife into the Satadan's groin, enjoyed the surprise and rage in the man's eyes at being out-bullied.

The first man put a restraining hand on the taller man's shoulder, ordered, "Rakai, stand down." The big guy obeyed, signifying who the commanding officer was in their ranks.

John saw the first man eyeing him up differently now, not as an easy victim, maybe more of a curiosity. "You know of our homeworld? How?"

John jerked his chin to the tattoo on the man's neck. "Your ink," at the man's confusion, he clarified, "Your markings, the tattoo. Tags you as Satadans. If you want to keep that a secret, scarfs should be your everyday accessory."

Suddenly a knife was at his throat from the woman at his back. "You think we would dishonor our home in such a fashion?!" she snarled by his ear.

"By wearing scarfs when they are so last season's fashion or by covering up your tattoos?" John sallied back while he inconspicuously flipped the knife dandling at his side around in his hand so the pointy side was faced toward the shrew with the knife to his neck.

But then the leader did the unexpected and laughed, gave a wave to the woman and the knife was removed from John's neck. John might have flinched when the leader came to his side, threw an arm around his shoulders and drew him back toward their abandoned table. "I think you'll make a most amusing drinking companion to pass away the afternoon."

Relieved he wasn't going to have to kill one of Ronon's countryman, John wasn't exactly happy about being liked too much. "I'm on a time schedule…"

But the Satadan ignored him, ordered "A mug for our new friend," and ushered John to a sit on the bench beside him. The other two Satadans exchanged unhappy looks before they resumed their own seats on the opposite bench.

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Ronon had never spared the time, or really the thought, that there might be a Ronon Dex in this world. Had not searched him out or let McKay try to make a calculation of the possibility of a Dex existing here. When, at the start of his relationship with this world's John, it seemed no close ties could be formed between them, let alone affection, Ronon had had a moment of wounded speculation that a Ronon Dex did exist here in this universe and it was that Dex which Sheppard was destined to become like a brother to. But that …jealousy fled once he and John found their ground, began to form the strong friendship Dex had once shared with his own Sheppard.

As Ronon entered the village's tavern, he froze, knew a level of terror he'd rarely allowed himself to feel. Knew in that moment that he should not have spent any time thinking of whether another Ronon Dex existed in this world, instead he should have wondered if his greatest enemies had counters here. That answer was proven now.

For Sheppard sat at a table with them: Tyre, Rakai and Ara. Ronon couldn't breathe, feared Sheppard's throat would be deftly cut by Tyre, who sat at John's side. That John would be caught in the crossfire if he drew his weapon. Contemplating his options, Ronon wanted to grab John away from them but his old teammates would read his aggression, would know Sheppard was his weakness. Then facts broke through Ronon's panic. These were not his teammates, they might not even know a Ronon Dex in their world. His counter may never have existed or been known to these particular Satedan soldiers.

But fate wasn't that kind.

A wide smile broke out onto Tyre's face. "I knew Kell lied when he said he killed you!" Then he was out of his seat and, to Ronon's surprise, grabbing him in a bear hug and lifting him off the ground laughing. Ara and Rakai came to them. Ara gave him a lusty kiss and Rakai pounded him on his back. A slow smile emerged on Ronon's face but his eyes looked past his old "friends" to Sheppard, cataloging that the man was unhurt.

John raised a tankard of ale to Ronon, glad he'd found his friends, well, friends of this world's Ronon Dex, anyway. He tried to crush down a spike of jealousy. Since he came into the Stargate Program, John had enjoyed the lion's share of Ronon's friendship and now to think his place with Ronon was being knocked down a few pegs…it twisted something in his gut.

Ronon was manhandled to the table by his jovial "friends", was being lead to the chair at the opposite end of where John sat but he detoured their intentions, instead claimed the chair beside John where Tyre had sat. Wanted…needed John within easy reach of him. The smile he forced was a repulsive act of disloyalty but he buried the shame of it because he was doing it for John's sake, to ensure the air of camaraderie remained, protected John.

Although all he ached to do was grab John and get him as far away from Tyre as he could, he instead sat there and pretended to join in their tales of "their" times together before the fall of Satadan, before the real Dex was most likely killed by this world's Commander Kell. But Tyre was keenly watching Ronon from his seat across from John, sensed something…different in him.

Ronon tensed when Tyre's eyes went to John when the stories wound down. "Though you aren't kitted out like him, clearly you've joined a new militia," a hint of judgement at Ronon's disloyalty.

Ronon cursed his stupidity for not learning about this Satada's fate, didn't know what mirrored his own homeworld's fate. Choose the middle Line. "After what happened with Kell, I struck out on my own."

Ara from the chair at the head of the table beside Sheppard, gave John a leering look. "You don't look so alone." The hand that had minutes earlier put a knife to John's neck now running a seductive caress down John's chest.

Ronon almost reacted, fisted his hand under the table instead of breaking her hand for touching John. So it was John himself who removed her hand, though with gentleness in his put off. "Well I am feeling a little left out. Maybe you could catch me up. Clearly you and Ronon were war buddies together and got separated. I know how that turned out for Ronon." Letting the statement hang, implying he wanted to hear what they had been doing in the intervening years.

Ronon held back a smirk. Let it up to Sheppard to garner the information he himself couldn't ask for without revealing his lack of knowledge of Satada's fate.

Rakai snorted from his chair across from Ronon. "Running for our lives. Kell put us on the kill list, thought we were in on your plans," his eyes lancing into Ronon, the warmth of the earlier greeting frosting over.

Again Tyre made interceptions for Rakai's hot temper. "It's not like we didn't betray him in our ways, deserved our spot on his list," his eyes on Ronon, not Rakai. "Have you been back since…"

Ronon shook his head, hadn't wanted to visit this Satada even if it still stood. It would never be his home.

Ara solemnly remarked, "It's a blackened hole, not much familiar remains. And unless you want to hunker down with Kell in his underground bunker, there's not many other settlements daring to remain there."

"The Wraith would wipe out any gathering of number," Tyre grimly supplied, remembered walking among such a settlement a year back only to hear they had been taken and killed by the Wraith. "They won't let any Satadan embers spark to life."

"So you've made this sleepy town your home?" John asked, skepticism there because Ronon's "friends" didn't seem like the provincial type, not with their weapons and their lethal bully mentality.

Rakai scoffed, "This craphole?! It's a weigh station only."

Ronon's eyes narrowed at the information, knew that was what his own team had called someplace they gathered intel. "For what goal?" because Tyre was always acting with a purpose, remembered what his Tyre had been doing in such an outlying town when he and his John had stumbled on them. The meeting so…reminisced that Ronon felt he was caught up in a heartless deju vu.

Tyre exchanged a look with Rakai, maybe reprimanding him for mentioning their purpose for being there. But he answered Ronon, lowly, so his voice only carried to the people at that table, "Satada might have rolled over and played dead but we haven't. We continue the fight…seemingly like you are," admiration for Ronon in his words, in the look he bestowed on Ronon. When Ronon nor John confirmed or denied his claim, he dropped his voice even lower. "We heard two strangers had come to town an hour ago, seeking Yarvell. And the only thing that old drunk is good for is his memories of the planet Gidish, where an abandoned Wraith command is rumored to be stationed."

John shot a look to Ronon, knew it was Ronon's move whether or not they trusted his friends, but felt an undercurrent of malice from Ronon, of ..fear, if he didn't know any better. Whatever the counters of these friends in Ronon's world had done to Ronon, it hadn't instilled trust. But these three were not them, any more than John was Ronon's Sheppard. Whatever…dustup had happened between them couldn't be trusted as a true measure of these three Satadan's. John hoped Ronon knew that.

Ronon sat back in his chair, seemingly amused by their tale. "I also hear this Yarvell's made a wicked drink only this tavern serves. We might just as well be here for the recipe."

Rakai and Ara tensed, watched for Tyre's reaction but the man heartily laughed, reached across the table and gave Ronon's back a good pound. "Always the smartmouthed one, our Ronon!" he said, his earlier doubts in Ronon's reception of them melting at the show of the same old Ronon spirit. "Come, we are on the same side. It would be like old times if we joined together to ransack the Wraith command, gathered some intel that might actually give us a way to fight back or at the least, predict where they might hit next."

To John it sounded like the same sentiments shared by people from the numerous worlds that they had visited already, people wanting to stand a chance against the Wraith, to not be helpless victims anymore. But Ronon wasn't readily agreeing to the teamup.

"Clearly you have better weapons," Trye pressed, reaching across the table, intent on touching the P90 John still had slung across his shoulder. Like a copperhead snake, Ronon's hand struck out, slammed Tyre's hand onto the table before it could touch John.

The table froze in tension and Ronon's eyes boring into Trye's narrowed, curious ones. Ronon couldn't confess he didn't want Tyre touching John, that it had only been a hard fought battle that it was his hand now pinning Trye's hand to the table instead of his knife. No, he had to play things out carefully, for these teammates were deadly and he had no intentions of letting John be hurt by a confrontation with them. Not again, not this John.

So he did the hardest thing, he smiled at Trye, drawled, "You never just look at things when you think it's preferable to steal them for yourself."

The tension broke and Tyre smirked. "Touché, my old friend. Touché." Then he withdrew his hand from under Ronon's, didn't reach for John..or John's weapon again. "So what do you say? Shall we do another scavenger run together for old time's sake?" warmth there, unknowingly not for the Ronon across from him but for the one long dead.

Ronon chuckled but pointed to Trye as he made his one requisite, "But we divide the spoils evenly."

"Would I cheat you?!" Tyre tried to innocently ask but he was mischievously smirking.

"Everybody, every time," Ara joked and the table erupted into laughter.

Trye leaned conspiringly across the table closer to Ronon. "Now here's the tricky part. The planet's sun is going into supernova so we have a small opening to do this run before conditions worsen."

"Conditions?" John posed, was starting to have that tightening in his gut that warned him bad news was on the horizon.

"Raging sand storms, blistering heat in the day and freezing at night, daylight randomly only lasting a few hours while darkness can stick around for a week," Ara happily supplied, trying her best to prove she was a women who didn't fear these dire weather conditions the way her fellow male companions did.

'Sand, just great,' John internally muttered to himself. He had had more than a lifetime's worth of desert horizons from his stint in the Air Force.

Picking up where Ara's information left off, Trye plotted, "According to Yervell, it's on a lunar cycle so our best shot is going tomorrow morning and being out of there in a few hours' time." Then he smiled. "Talk about a good fortune you arrived when you did."

Ronon snorted. "Are you trying to be optimistic?"

Rakai gave Tyre's shoulder a playful shove, "See he remembers like I do that your optimism always doom us?!"

Trye only laughed at the charge, his eyes holding Ronon's before he held out his hand. "So do we fight on the same side once again, old friend?"

Though there was an internal struggle going on in Ronon's soul, he didn't hesitate to clamp Tyre's forearm even as Tyre clasp his, sealing the devil's bargain.

They stayed there, making their plans for another hour before Ronon announced he and John would meet up with them on the clearing on the far side of town before dawn the next morning.

"There are lodgings here, no need to part company now," Tyre smoothly replied.

Ronon didn't let it show that he associated ill will in the man's protestation of their departure. "We have supplies to gather." He shook his head ruefully when Rakai offered to help them carry the supplies for them. "And steal whatever catches your eye, no thank you. We'll meet you at the clearing on the east side of town an hour before dawn."

Then he and John made their departure, walked in silence until the village was half a mile in their wake. Then they spoke at the same time.

"You don't trust them," John surmised, had come to depend on Ronon's instincts in this alien galaxy and it unnerved him seeing Ronon off kilter around these counters to well-known comrades he must have known in his own world.

"You're returning to Atlantis," Ronon bluntly commanded without offering up an explanation.

That had John stopping abruptly and reaching out a hand to latch onto Ronon's arm to halt his progress as well. "I'm not going anywhere. Now tell me what's wrong."

"Tell Weir I'll have whatever intel the compound has to her by tomorrow night."

"She'll figure that out tomorrow night when we get back to Atlantis together."

Anger flared in Ronon's voice, "I'm giving you an order!" but John saw it for what it was: fear.

John forced his tone to be light. "Yeah last time I followed that type of order and bailed on you, I thought you were dead for a long, hellish week." Then his eyes frosted over with stubborn resolve that edged his next words. "So with all due respect, sir, screw your orders." He was startled to be roughly grabbed by Ronon, the man's strength telegraphed by the bruising grip he had on John's forearms.

"You'll do as I damn well say!" Ronon growled in John's face.

Quietly but with conviction John countered, "No." Didn't try to break from Ronon's hold when his friend slammed his back against the nearest tree, pinned him there by force and by the wild look in his eyes.

"You're leaving, Sheppard!" Ronon snarled. "I'll throw you thru the gate myself if I have to."

Not liking the uncharacteristic tension radiating off his friend, John reached out, put his hand on Ronon's shoulder, "Tell me what's wrong, Ronon. I can't help…."

"I don't want your help!" Ronon gritted out. "I'm your commanding officer and you follow my orders!" Then he did what he swore he never would, threw John's hurtful past in his face. "I think we both remember how it ended the last time you defied orders."

Every ounce of color drained from John's face at the cruel reference to his failed rescue attempt that had gotten innocent lives killed. And Ronon felt sick, wanted to recant his words, apologize but clenched his jaw so the words wouldn't escape. John could hate him for this but he would keep the man safe, would not let him suffer the same fate his own Sheppard had. Would die first…and bear John's hatred to ensure John lived.

John let the hurt of Ronon's betrayal roll over him a few moments and then he put it away. Knew these tactics too well for they were his own. Keep people away by hurting them, by exploiting their weakness and they'd stay out of his way, not try to get close, to get to know him. "Thanks for the recap, I'd almost forgotten that for a few hours. Now how about you cut the crap and tell me what your Tyre, Ara and Rakai did to you in your world because you don't trust them any further than McKay could throw them."

Ronon growled low in his throat at John's bullheadedness but he released his cruel grip on his friend and spun around, gave his back to John but didn't stalk away. Maybe if John knew the truth he'd leave, if he realized fate could repeat itself, that Ronon's world and this one tended to have chilling linear outcomes. But no, he knew John would be more determined to stay, to protect him, even if it cost him his own life. 'Just like my John did, agreed to join up with my former Satada strike force team because I vowed that I trusted them with my life. But it wasn't my life that was lost in that misbelief. Instead I lost someone more valued than my own soul. And I won't let it happen again, not to this John.' For this John had come to be as precious to Ronon as his own John, though there were differences there were also heartbreaking and heart-melting similarities. This Sheppard was becoming another brother to him, not as close as his John had been but they had had years to cement their bond. And he wanted that time with this John, for John to not die while he helplessly watched. Not again.

John rubbed a weary hand down his face at Ronon's silence, feared this mission was going to cost them both something. But that was what he needed to enforce in Ronon, the importance of the mission, not Ronon's obvious fear for his safety from his "friends." Because John hadn't missed Ronon's protectiveness in the tavern, knew it was the breeding ground for Ronon now trying to shuffle him back to Atlantis. But he wasn't more important than their mission. Ronon knew that in his heart of hearts and John just had to get him to see that.

"The bartender said the guy with the compound info, Yarvell, had been missing for the past week and he never missed sampling his own brew there every night. He had last been seen talking with your friends. So whatever intel he had, it's out of our reach. Tyre has the location of the compound, knows the impact of the weather on the mission and probably has a good idea where the intel is located on the base. He's our one and only ticket to getting the intel we need and tomorrow seems to be our best shot at getting it. Besides if the Wraith ships are heading to Atlantis like that long range scanner indicates, we need that intel sooner rather than later. And it seems likely that your …" almost said friends but saw the tension in Ronon's back and modified, "Satada pals wouldn't be so willing to go halfsies as they indicated so it will be us against them. Tyre will want to mislead one of us onto a deadend trail and will have to take the other one of us with him to the real intel cache."

Though everything John said was aligned with Ronon's own assessment, he barked out, "No!" because John wasn't going to talk him into letting him spend another second in the company of those murderers.

"Yes," John steely if quietly countermanded. "The lives of everyone on Atlantis is in our hands right now. Every life on Earth. Because if the Wraith break through Atlantis's fortifications and get to the gate address of my home planet…" he broke off, didn't like that scenario one bit but would use it. "What cost would you pay to have been able to save Satada from the devil's bargain your leaders made with the Wraith?! Even to save this world's Satada? My world is on the line, Ronon, and I'm not going to back down from doing whatever I can to protect it. I …I can't, not and live with myself, to bear more…guilt." He shook his head sadly, hoped he'd be able to get Ronon to see how important this was to him. His voice was hoarse with his desperation when he continued. "I can't bear more blood on my hands, Ronon. I can't. I rather be dead than live with more failures like Afghanistan."

That declaration had Ronon spinning around, hands grasping desperately to John's jacket front, "Don't say that! Don't ever say that to me!"

But John gave a sad smirk. "It's the truth. McKay said he didn't know how I lived with myself and I …I don't either. Wished many a day I didn't."

"Don't say that," Ronon repeated, voice as hoarse as John's. He couldn't envision his life now without this John in it, if John had succumbed to the guilt, taken his own life…if they had never met. "Your life has value to me, damn you!"

"Now..doing this…being….useful…good again," John choked out, "maybe my life does. But not if you won't let me be a part of the fight, of saving lives, of giving whatever I have to so the Wraith don't take over Atlantis, come to my Earth. I joined this battle …you wanted me here…now you have to let me bear the consequences of that choice, alone. Whatever happens, tomorrow or five years from now, the choices are mine and the outcomes are only my own fault, not yours, Ronon. You're not my savior…you're my friend and if you can't….be that…only that….McKay can assign me another team and…"

"Shut up," Ronon hoarsely groused, pulling John into a hard brief hug before pushing him back to arms' length. Cupping his hands around the side of John's neck, he gave his brother a soul deep stare. "I can't do this unless I know you're going to do everything in your power to keep yourself safe. I can't….lose you." Not like I lost him, exactly like I lost him.

John gave a bemused smirk. "I'm a survivor." 'Even when I didn't want to be.'

But it was as if Ronon heard that unspoken addendum. "Promise me, John. Promise me you'll take out any threats to you without hesitation, that you won't put even my safety above your own. I know about guilt too and I'm can't let another John Sheppard die because of me."

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TBC

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Ok, I couldn't resist making this one a two parter! This segment has been in my head since I thought of this AU so hope you liked where the storyline's gone.

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.