Another update...despite only getting one review for the last one...my readers suck.
Chapter Seven: Why Do I Keep Counting?
"So what you're saying is that while you stay with Beth in her room, I'm stuck all alone in this big place with it's many attractive females?" Gordy asked, not entirely looking at Shalimar, his eyes instead roaming over the new and just-as-curious women that walked around them. Behind them, Beth walked slowly, watching every little thing, trying to see something familiar and not finding what she sought.
Gordy and Shal spoke quietly, doubtless plotting many things, and Beth tuned them out in favor of eavesdropping on passersby. There was a girl with red hair in casual clothing walking by, muttering to herself about "stupid egotistical head scientists who needed a kick in the ass...or the head". Beth smiled and watched the girl until she was out of sight. Not far behind them, half a security team followed the trio as they randomly walked around the large compound, and though Beth didn't look at them, she did listen, and she listened long enough to realize that someone other than the ones she saw were watching.
"She's just looking around, taking in the sights, Colonel."
Beth smiled briefly and wondered just who this "Colonel" was. Sounded strong, important; maybe he was her boss?
Yes, though she'd not realized it, Beth had accepted that she'd come from this place. She didn't know why she was here, or what she'd done here, but she knew instinctively that this was home. Maybe it was the way just the way walking in these halls, listening to the voices, and smelling the air made her relax so deeply that she forgot all her troubles; or maybe it was that niggling sense that she'd forgotten something, something she needed to remember.
Drawing her attention from inside her memories, where she often found herself lingering, hoping that something new would come to her, Beth found that Shal and Gordy had stopped in front of a large room, and through the door grunts and thuds echoed. Peering between the two large men, the sight of what appeared (she hoped) was sparring between many people. Intrigued by the sight, Shal never let her watch him and Gordy spar, feeling that it wasn't "women's business" (she'd kicked him in the shin, that sexist bastard); Beth stepped past her soldiers and watched from the doorway.
One particular man, taller than all the rest and different from them in a fundamental way, caught her attention. Not only did he wear different clothing that the other men in the room, he moved different. Whereas the others moved gracefully, yet haltingly, thinking through their moves before they made them, this man just moved. He was brutal, strong and quick, but smooth in his movements. He could never be called graceful, but looking at the sharp angled features of his face, she didn't think that he'd appreciate being described as such anyways.
His hair, which fell in long convoluted ropes, swung as he moved, and she wondered why he hadn't pulled it back...
Then, almost instantaneously, she could recall seeing it move that way before. In a dark room, barely lit, his hair swinging back as he ducked the blow of an unseen enemy, his dark brown eyes alight with the pleasure of battle, his teeth coming to bare in a rough grin; then just as quickly, it faded, and Beth doubted she'd seen it at all. Like a dream in the night, just thinking about it made it fade faster, and within seconds, despite the dizziness that suddenly clouded her sight, she couldn't remember anything she'd seen.
Leaning against the doorway, very much aware that slowly, throughout the room, people had begun to stop their movements to watch her, Beth continued to watch the warrior tear a swathe through his opponents. Behind her, Shal and Gordy had stopped arguing over the "bounty of beauties" to watch Beth watch the fight. Neither knew why she'd stopped (considering all the times she'd lectured them on the fact that violence was not the answer), but knew that for some reason, she was fascinated by this particular scene.
Ronon Dex knew only the fighting. In a dialogue familiar yet always different, he concentrated on defeating his opponent. Blow for blow, pain for pain, he echoed the movements of a thousand fights, seeking new ways in which to succeed. For every minute he fought the soldier, the soldier learned and compensated for weaknesses.
The boy was no Colonel Sheppard or Teyla, but he could be in time, and Ronon made note to comment on it to Sheppard. With lack of current missions to pursue, Ronon had taken to challenging and "teaching" the younger soldiers that arrived on Atlantis. Indeed, Ronon had been dubbed the "Welcoming Committee", and no one escaped his hospitality.
Crouching low and coming up in a fast uppercut, Ronon disable his enemy and sent him flying backwards, safely, into the arms of his friends. In the spirit of a good fight, Ronon clasped the boy's hand and drew him to his feet, clapping him on the back. "You fight well."
Shrugging it off, the boy proceeded to collapse again, much to the chuckles of the crowd. Grinning fiercely himself, Ronon turned and picked up his towel, throwing it around his neck in abandon and draining the rest of his bottled water. It was only then that he realized how quiet the room had become. His eyes narrowed and he didn't turn, but did take in as much of the room as he could without moving.
She knew the instant he realized she was there. He didn't know by direct sense, but by indirect; he took in the environment around him and deduced that an intruder had come. It showed deep intelligence, great patience...and it was fucking sexy.
In a purely woman fashion, ignoring the fact that by now the entire room was pointedly staring or not-staring at her and the man, she studied his body and did not find it lacking. Long limbs flowed with rippling muscles, currently shining with sweat and trembling from exertion. Deeply tanned, natural, not sun-influenced, complimented his body, and the scars that puckered every once and a while did nothing to detract from it.
She knew without thinking that his eyes were brown. Not dark brown, but light brown, like chocolate.
On the heels of that sudden revelation, she had another small and unsettling thought, one that caused her forehead to wrinkle in thought, and her eyes to finally wrench from the intimidating figure across the room.
Ronon grasped his things, standing easily from the crouch he'd taken to collect them, and turned easily. She stood in the doorway, her eyes lost in thought but pointed in his direction. Dark curls fell over her forehead as her lips moved in private thoughts she'd unconsciously began to speak softly. As he began to walk in her direction, the rest of the room immediately began to do drills and sparring again, yet still seemed to strain to hear every word that yet to be said.
Stopping in front of the fragile woman, she suddenly jerked her eyes up front and center, staring him straight in the face with a one-minded directness that caused him a shiver of unease. He stared at people with that look, and this was the first time he'd been on the receiving end of it. "Hello, Dr. Weir," he forced himself to say lightly, sweeping his eyes past her to the two large "bodyguards" behind her. Both stared at him distinctly unfriendly.
Beth smiled minutely, and used one of her long fingers to bring his face back to looking at her's. "You have brown eyes. They look like chocolate."
Ronon's eyes widened and his eyebrows followed; he couldn't recall Dr. Weir ever touching him, or speaking to him like this. "Okaaayyy..." The art of conversation, as taught by Colonel Sheppard; in an uncomfortable situation, stick to small words.
Suddenly, her eyes unfocused and she dropped her hand, taking a small step back, directly into Shalimar's arms. She stared at him with such a look of confusion that for an instant, Ronon felt the urge to comfort her. It was extremely unusual. She frowned as she asked him, "What's chocolate?"
Ronon opened his mouth to reply, but found that he had nothing to say. Instead, he shrugged and watched as the blond man slowly guided Elizabeth away. The large black man, of the many scars, stepped close to Ronon and spoke softly. "That chick you were with when you came to my world?"
"Teyla," Ronon replied, still watching Elizabeth's retreating figure.
"Is she single?"
Ronon glanced sharply at the stranger, before deciding to be truthful. Ronon turned and pointed to Major Lorne, who was currently sparring with one of his subordinates. "Ask him."
Carson smiled broadly, and restrained the urge to hug Ronon. "This is great!"
Ronon, chewing on a lollipop, eyed the doctor suspiciously, almost psychically picking up on the hug-instinct. "Why?"
"Because it means that she's already starting to remember. It's not lasting at the moment, but the more she remembers, the easier it will be to retain it," Carson explained, turning to motion that Colonel Sheppard and Teyla enter the room as well. They'd not been there when Ronon had explained the gym scene to the doctor, so they had to play catch-up.
"What's this about, Carson?"
"Elizabeth is already beginning to remember!" He said with much glee and in such an accent that not even Teyla could understand him. Shaking his head, he started to speak again. "Ronon just came to me, to tell me of an incident he had with Elizabeth."
"What happened?" Sheppard demanded, instantly alert to any trouble (you should never use the word "incident" with a soldier, their minds jump to conclusions).
Ronon interrupted Dr. Beckett to tell the story; after all, it was his story. "I was sparring in the gym. I won, I started to leave, she was in the doorway. She said my eyes looked like chocolate, then asked me what chocolate was." Ronon was a great storyteller.
Teyla gasped. "She does not remember chocolate?" Teyla, upon being enticed into trying it during a particular spontaneous late night meeting with Sheppard, had become a hard core addict, and could often be found trading with newcomers to Atlantis for the supply they brought.
Ronon just shrugged and swung himself up onto the desk, relaxing as he watched the reactions of his friends. Teyla's was horrified, but Sheppard's was merely intrigued.
"So, what do we do now?" He asked, pulling out a lollipop of his own. He'd been the one to addict Ronon to the little devils; now that he thought of it, he'd gotten both aliens addicted to many things. Including (for Ronon) porn, lollipops, entertainment wrestling, and action movies; (for Teyla) chocolate, daytime television shows (read SOAP OPERAS) (what? Passions was John's show!), horror movies, and sleeping naked (don't ask).
Carson thought on it a moment, before decisively laying out their plan of action. "I think, since Ronon is the one who triggered this, that we should have him spend as much time with her as her escort will allow. Hopefully, it'll trigger more memories."
Ronon sat up straight, a glower already forming on his beautiful face. "I gotta spend all my time with a girl?"
Teyla smacked him in the arm, hard enough to totter him off the desk. He caught himself and glared at her. "You know what I mean."
Carson, unfortunately for his current safety, nodded. "I think there's a good chance that if you caused one memory to resurface, you could cause more."
"I don't even know Dr. Weir that well."
"Sometimes it's the most innocuous of things that can help cure amnesia."
Before Ronon could object more, Sheppard put up a hand and stalled all arguments. "Sorry, bud, but what the doctor says, goes. We need Elizabeth healed, and until then, consider yourself her personal escort."
Despite his objections, Ronon found the thought not entirely unpleasant.
