The Fly Away Remedy
Abby Ebon
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Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Ronon pushed open the cell door the rest of the way; it was noon – which meant they had been in the Hive ship since last night in the earliest.
His stomach ached for want of food; Ronon glanced back at his companion – still asleep in a cold sweat. Ronon knew he couldn't leave John for long – but he had to make sure, with his own eyes that the Stargate was really gone.
There had been times when the Wraith lied – and Runners had foolishly believed them. Ronon left John his knife, for protection and so the other man would know he wasn't alone when he woke up.
It didn't take long for Ronon to realize the Wraith had been truthful – the ground where the 'Gate had been was uprooted, and Ronon shook off his unease, he gathered the firewood they would need that night. It seemed they would go without food until John woke up.
Ronon had been both glad and upset to see John was still asleep when he got back to the …'camp', while John rested he built the fire up, mindful to put some distance between the Hive-cell and the fire. If it was indeed tissue as Rodney thought, it would burn well, and Ronon had no desire to go hunting for another shelter.
He worried over what the Wraith had done to John, and why only he could, supposedly, save his friend. Most of all, he worried over what the Wraith Queen expected to see, and where they watched them from.
Behind him, John moaned, Ronon turned and regarded the still sleeping man. Most of all, he worried at why John hadn't woken up. Ronon had no real knowledge bases of wounds – unless they were open and bleeding, then you dressed them. Ronon didn't know how to fix John if something was 'wrong' in his mind because of what the Wraith had done.
John whimpered, and Ronon reminded himself firmly of how Rodney had always told them not to wake a person dreaming – or having a nightmare. Frankly, Ronon wondered if Rodney had ever been near someone having a nightmare, they thrashed and made helpless trapped noises that Ronon hated.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
John's Dream
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
He was alone, he was always alone.
John found himself strapped to a cold metal table. The room was domed, and whispers of voices – of people, none of the words that he could catch made sense, and John fought, what held him to the table – crying out to the voices and whispers for help.
Screaming – someone was screaming; John realized he was the one screaming, the screaming stopped.
A shadow – humanoid, filled the room, John pleaded with it for help.
Too late he realized the shadow was the one he was scared of.
A woman, clothed in black, with silver hair stood over him. No, he thought, seeing the blue hue of her skin, not a woman – a Wraith.
She held up a needle full of bubbly red liquid – and no matter how much he screamed for her not to – to spare him, to let him live – she injected it into his frozen body. Strange thoughts entered his mind, filtering through it randomly – without direction.
A warm body pressed against his, a tongue licked against his ear, making him moan, heat washed over him, filling him with an indefinable need – John arched up reaching for a kiss from…
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
End of John's Dream
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
John woke in a cold sweat. Shivering, he curled to his side, then, as a shadow fell over him – looked up to see Ronon staring down at him with a worried look on his face. Ronon knelt down and bushed John's bangs from his sweaty face, his expression shuttered when John's eyes opened fully.
"How do you feel?" Ronon asked, knowing John would not feel well at all, if his fever and flushed face were anything to go by.
"I'll be alright." John answered, biting down on the sarcastic answer that wanted to bite at whatever interrupted his pain. Ronon made a disbelieving grunt; John found his stare somewhat unnerving, reminding him of the feelings in the dreams.
John was a grown man, and he knew what those feelings and phantom sensations were, they were a reminder, of everything he didn't have.
Oh, sure, John was the military leader of one of the most advanced cities of the Ancients ever found, and the girls here were lovely, but John didn't have time for it; had never made time for it.
He'd joked with his mother one time – that love, or lust, would have to be damn persistent to get John Sheppard to admit to it, comment to it, and then, and this was what John found terrifying, act on it.
"John?" Ronon interrupted his thoughts; John thought he sounded rather sharp – as if he had been repeating himself for some time.
"Hmm?" John hummed, looking up at the slightly exasperated and wary Ronon.
"I asked, for the fourth - or third time, if you would like something to eat." John hadn't seen the harm, so he nodded, Ronon handed him some type of broth, he was not going to ask what was in it – nor was he going to comment on the almost too-spicy taste.
It was much better then army rations, they were bland; most times you just hoped it was packaged right. Compared to them, the broth was a delicacy, not that it wasn't good – John just didn't want to think about the possible repercussions of eating native animals and fungi to a digestive system created on a planet some light years away.
John didn't need to ask what had happened – it was obvious that they had been captured by the Wraith, though he was curious to how a Hive-cell had gotten free of the Hive. John looked around the Hive-cell, then to Ronon, raising an eyebrow.
"They let us go; apparently we are to be some form of entertainment to them…" Ronon explained, well, there went John's slim hope that they had escaped and were safe from them. Ronon hesitated, and then continued bluntly.
"They took the 'Gate, and apparently what humans that were here – if they had technology, was cleared out. The Wraith that 'freed' us hinted that they had done something to you – and intended to stay hovering over the planet until…" Ronon didn't continue, knowing John could fill in the blanks for himself, and that he himself hardly had anymore information.
The Wraith had been a big talker – he just hadn't talked about useful things.
"Well, I'm sure it won't take long for Elizabeth and Teyla to mount a rescue party." John assured Ronon, who shrugged – looking somewhat doubtful.
"He said they'd make sure whatever is to happen to you…happens." Ronon said grimly, uncomfortable with the thought that these could be the last days of his friend.
John sighed, finishing off the broth and setting the wooden bowl – something he supposed Ronon must have made, down in order to fully face his friend.
"Look, Ronon, it might be that they are playing tricks with our heads – it might be that something was actually put in me, but it may not be as effective as they think." John said, trying to get Ronon to look at it in a positive light. Or at least a not so doomed one.
"Fact is, we just don't know, and we don't know what else is on this planet. So tomorrow we ought to set some traps to get some more food – and protect ourselves, we should also built a fire ditch around the camp – to clearly show where we are to the local lions, tigers, and bears." John grinned, trying to get Ronon to at least not take the entire blame of the event. Ronon nodded, agreeing with John's plan.
John knew the Wraith must have said something to hint that it was because of Ronon that they had done what they had to John. John knew this wasn't true; the Wraith would likely have acted the same if he had been caught alone.
Ronon knew that – yet he still blamed himself, and that could be dangerous if something actually did happen to John. John got Ronon talking about the day's events while he had slept. The Hive-cell had crashed at around noon- and it had rained near evening, at the moment it was dusk.
Since Ronon had been watching their backs all day – John volunteered to go for the night shift, in truth he didn't feel all that sleepy, Ronon agreed to it – reluctantly, and John suspected he would stay up most of the night silently.
John didn't mind that so much, he just needed to sort out his thoughts.
The facts were that the Wraith had done something to him – something Ronon blamed himself for, that Elizabeth and Teyla were coming for them – but to do so would mean engaging the Wraith, that is, if they got to the planet before whatever was supposed to happen to John, happened.
John found himself looking up at the stars – sometimes he just wished he could join them, other times…other times he was glad he was human.
In the dark of the night John's thoughts were drawn back to the dream – heat pulled at him, drowning him in sensations and thoughts he had never had before in such force. Or, at least, if he had them, they had been when he was a teenager and were half-forgotten at best.
John swallowed, and it seemed to him that the more resisted the pull of lust, the worst it became. Faced with it – John reacted to it like he would to any danger or anomaly, flight – running from this place and hoping whatever this was left him, or fighting it – and risk making it worse.
John ran.
O.o.O.o.O.o.O
Ronon woke suddenly, and found himself with the sharp edge of his knife to his throat. In the dawns soft golden light he could make out the features of the man who held the knife. It was Ford.
Ford was here, straddling him, and John was no where in sight. Ford's one Wraith-black eye gleamed as he leaned down, the knife pressing into Ronon's neck.
"Where is John, Runner?"