A/N: ...it has been brought to my attention that this story is "dragging". Normally such a critique would anger me...however I'm the one who made that revelation...only to have it BACKED UP by my most consistent reader/reviewer. So, in the spirit of this...only two or three chapters are left. It's time to start wrapping things up. Be prepared, faithful readers...all three of you...
Chapter Seventeen: Somebody Told Me
They faced off over the safety mat; the few people there this early in the morning were milling around in the corners. Neither noticed the audience because the crowd simply didn't matter. Warriors were trained to focus on the task at hand and the bets and jokes flying around the edges of their senses were of no importance.
Ronon cracked his knuckles and removed his leather-ish vest. He'd made it from the skin of some animal he'd killed several years back and weathering had smoothed the skin down to a shiny varnish. It was one of his favorites and he had no desire to see it marred while he kicked his opponent's ass. That was something he was almost sure he would do. They were evenly matched physically and skillfully, yet Ronon had the assurance of home turf.
Shalimar remained fully clothed. As usual he wore a short sleeved softly-knit shirt and a harder material in his slacks. The style was military-esque, almost uniform like. His blond hair was pulled back and his face seemed sharply angled with the added softness his hair gave it. He looked fierce and god-like in his silence. He remained stilled as Ronon moved about, removing various things from his clothing and his upper body. Shalimar didn't remove anything but the knives hidden at his back.
In the spirit of chivalry Ronon did the same.
Finally they faced off again, blue eyes clashing with brown ones until with a roar they flew at each other. The crowd gasped as Shalimar hesitated just outside of Ronon's reach, waiting until Ronon was close and wrapping an arm around his waist, throwing the large man's balance off and using his momentum to send him sailing into the wall.
The wall where there was no safety mats.
Ronon wiped blood from his split lip and attacked again, this time with a bit more caution. Shal parried his punches and kicks easily, moving fluidly like a cat in the face of Ronon's more forceful style.
The way the two men moved in the halls of Atlantis, with the same grace and caution might have convinced some that they'd fight the same way, with the same mannerisms and personality. Those people would have been wrong. Like night and day, the two men fought in completely opposite manners. Ronon was all passion and strength to Shalimar's patience and inaction. Ronon attacked and Shalimar retreated, but never in a way that made it seem cowardly. It was more that Shalimar won by simply never allowing Ronon to land a blow. He manipulated his opponent's movements and anticipated them, allowing him to move or exact a subtle push causing Ronon to injure himself.
It was almost like watching a dance in which Ronon, once thought to be damn near unbeatable, got his pride handed to him on a silver platter.
Ronon tried one last move aiming low as if to tackle Shalimar, who braced to move to the side and send Ronon careening into the wall again, only to be surprised. Ronon slid to the floor at the last minute, kicking out with his legs and sending Shalimar falling to the ground with a thump.
The wind rushed from his lungs and by the time his vision cleared and he could see again, Ronon was at his throat with a small dagger and a glint in his eyes. Shalimar tilted his head to the side and smiled a little. "I thought we agreed no weapons?"
Ronon grinned. "I never play fair."
"So, I see," Shal nodded a little and remained on the ground as Ronon eased off and stood before he took Ronon's offered helping hand up. "It was a good battle. If you were not so hot-headed you might have even beat me. Your mind moves quick and your body just as much."
Ronon nodded and rubbed an idle hand along one of his ribs that were particularly sore. He'd have to see Dr. Beckett after this. The two men glared at the people that remained in the gym until they'd fled the room. They both sat down with a sigh, a little lost at what to do.
"I think she should stay," Shalimar said suddenly. Ronon's head turned sharply to glance at him. "I think she is who you say she is and that you all care a great deal for her."
Ronon thought back to that night on the mainland and found himself nodding. "All of us."
Shalimar sighed and leaned back into the small seats that lined the large window and rubbed his aching neck. "She had nightmares again last night."
"What are the nightmares about? Has she ever told you?"
Shalimar shook his head. "She doesn't tell me specifics, but I'm almost certain they're violent. She moves in her sleep almost like she's fighting something or someone. If I try to wake her, I usually only get a bruise or two for my troubles."
Ronon snorted. "That's more than I managed to give you."
Shalimar grinned and poked one blue bruise already forming on Ronon's arm. "You should learn patience."
"I don't have time to wait."
"I hope you have time to shower," Beth said from the door as she finally found the man she was looking for. She glared at Shalimar. "You weren't at breakfast."
"I had a prior appointment," Shal replied with a grin.
Beth was not amused. "Instead of spending quality morning time with me...you came and spent it with another man?"
Shal shrugged. "I haven't had a good spar in days."
Ronon stood and started toward the door. "I'm hungry."
Beth sidestepped quickly as the sweat-covered Satedan came near. Almost involuntarily her eyes slid down his impressive chest and back up to his face...before freezing on a spot just off center of his abdomen.
The feel of her small smooth fingers on his skin had Ronon freezing in the doorway, just scant inches between him and Elizabeth. She ran a nail down the ripple of scar that marred his side. It was one of his newest ones and was still pink.
She couldn't know that she herself had given it to him weeks ago while possessed by an alien spirit, could she?
Beth let her hand fall as she stepped back and slammed into the doorway. Ronon automatically put his hands out to catch her if she fell but doing that made her retreat faster. She gasped for air as she hit the doorframe; she'd been holding her breath the entire time she'd been touching Ronon.
Her eyes glazed over, her hand covering her lips as she stared blindly. "I did that," she whispered. "I put that there. I almost killed you."
Ronon rubbed the scar with a callused-finger and nodded slowly. "Yeah, but-"
She'd already turned and ran. Ronon started to go after her, to explain the circumstances of the incident but Shalimar held him back. "Don't."
"Why not?"
"Because I think I know her better than you. Let me talk to her. You go see Beckett."
Shal was already moving down the corridor and Ronon had to use every bit of strength left in him to not follow. There'd been a wild look in Beth's eyes as she'd whispered. The look had been a bit of fear, bit of instinct, and a good chunk of knowledge. She'd remembered something.
She was packing when he came into the room. Throwing things into a bag and muttering under her breath, she didn't even pause as she pushed past him into the living area. Beth grabbed several knick knacks off the tables and put them in the bag, picking and choosing almost randomly.
"Why that statue?" Shalimar asked as he studied her movements. She'd expected him to speak and she whirled around at his question.
"If I asked you to, would you do something for me?"
"Depends on what."
"Don't ask."
"Then I can't promise anything," Shalimar responded with a shrug of his shoulders.
She stepped closer, dropping the bag and pressing her face into his chest. He hugged her and struggled to understand what she was going through. "No, I mean I don't want you to ask. I know you want to know what I'm doing and why I'm doing it, but for the sake of my sanity," she looked up at him, "please don't ask."
His arms slipped away and he stepped back. "I have to."
The silence stretched seconds into hours.
"What did you remember?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Elizabeth replied as she picked up her bag and resumed throwing things into it.
"Yes, you do. You want to tell me about it because you don't know what to make of it." He wrapped long fingers around her wrists and stopped her frantic movements. "You're more Elizabeth in this moment than I remember you ever being."
She jerked away. "What are you talking about?"
"Yesterday you didn't want to take anything with you when we left. Now you're packing things like you can't live without them. Not only that, you're choosing what you want to take."
The bag fell to the floor as if it'd burned her hands and she pushed sweaty curls off her forehead. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Tell me."
"No."
"Elizabeth, tell me."
"No!"
She went for the bedroom, unprepared for his movements as he threw her over his shoulder and moved to the couch where he threw her down. "You're not moving until we resolve this."
She sat up with a huff that was tinged with tears that they both pretended to ignore. "Why does everything have to be talked about? Why can't some things just be?"
"It's our nature. Some fight, some talk, and some do nothing."
She sighed and ran trembling hands through her hair. "I shot him."
"Ronon?"
"Yes. I shot and almost killed him. I remember it very clearly. I was kissing Sheppard and then he'd pulled a gun on me and I had one on him. I ran away and was hiding or looking for something. Ronon came after me and I shot him. Then it gets blurry. I remember seeing him all wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to machines and feeling such intense guilt."
"You don't know the circumstances of it. You don't know how it happened."
She stood and started to pace. "I remember other incidents. Other times. Shooting at different people, people shooting at me, explosions, arguments; sometimes it seems that every memory I get something is going wrong. I'm almost always at the center of it."
"From what these people tell me, you're their leader. At the middle of the trouble is the only place for a responsible leader to be."
She shook her head. "Sometimes I see bodies. Dozens and their blood on my hands." She turned to stare at Shal. "Then I remember Kolya."
Shalimar sat up straighter. "You remember what happened that day?"
Elizabeth bit her lip. "I've remembered what happened that day for a long time."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I'm dangerous. I know something he wants that has the potential to kill thousands."
"What?"
Elizabeth sat down next to him, grasping his hand tightly. "Kolya told me I knew something he needed to know. He tried to threaten me to give it to him. He tried bribing me. When I escaped he was about to try torturing me."
"What did you know?"
"The formula for a weapon; a weapon capable of wiping out an entire people."
"What people?"
"The Wraith."
Hey, Marianne! This is the sweaty man-on-man action I've been meaning to write for a long time. LOL. Just took longer to get here.
