A/N: Happy Friday, everyone! I've got a really long chapter for you today. This one's a bit more plot oriented, so hopefully I can keep the story moving.
To everyone who has reviewed, thank you so much! I'm glad you're liking this so far. :) Enjoy!
Though the aerial MALP had located and mapped out the settlement before they arrived, it was still larger than they anticipated. Clearly an agrarian culture, many of the locals possessed their own farms, and all the acres of farmland meant the settlement stretched far and wide. They passed from homestead to homestead, making conversation with anyone out working in the fields.
"Have you been visited by the Wraith in recent months?" "Have the Ancestors ever returned here?" "Do you know if there might be a repository of Ancient knowledge on this planet?" "Have you ever seen a strange man mysteriously come and go as he pleases, sometimes disappearing entirely?"
They found myriad ways to rephrase their questions, to gather as much intel as possible without arising suspicion, but the response was always the same no matter whom they asked.
"Repository of Ancient knowledge? Now, I don't know anything about that. But if you're looking for the best crop-I-grow-animal-I-raise-cheese-from-the-mammal-I-milk in town, feel free to stop on by!"
It was getting old.
After nearly six hours of walking, they finally reached the edges of the heart of the civilization. Sprawling fields turned to smaller plots of land, which eventually turned to stone cottages. Sprinkled in between the humble residences were small businesses marked by signs for cobblers, blacksmiths, leatherworkers, and more hanging above their thresholds. When it became clear they would not be able to investigate the entirety of the settlement before dark, Sheppard decided to split the team up.
"Okay. Ronon, Rodney, and Eva, you take the western part of the town. Teyla and Rogers, you're with me; we'll take the eastern section."
Ronon glared at Sheppard. There was no way in hell he was going to be left alone with the two people in the group who annoyed him the most. And the fact that Sheppard had conveniently selected the two women to be his companions only added salt to the wound.
Right as Shepard began to reply to Ronon's evil eye with a lift of his shoulders in a hey, I don't make the rules kind of shrug (even though he most definitely did make the rules), Eva interjected.
"No," she protested.
Sheppard turned to her with surprise. "I'm sorry. There must be something in my ear. I could have just sworn I heard you say 'no.'"
"I don't like that group." She glanced at McKay and gave him a half-apologetic head tilt. "No offense."
"Hey, I'm not exactly fond of you either, kid," McKay replied.
Eva sidled over to Rogers, linked arms with her, and rested her head on her shoulder, before contorting her face into what was supposed to be a cute pout. "I want my mommy to come with me." With her heavy brow and multiple nose rings, she pulled off cute about as well as Ronon did.
Sheppard looked back and forth between Eva and Rogers, who offered him a shrug and a shake of the head indicating she didn't have a preference either way. Ronon raised a bargaining eyebrow at Sheppard. Scientist for scientist; it was a fair trade.
"I very much doubt that Ronon, Rodney, and Eva would accomplish as much together as we would hope," Teyla said diplomatically. In other words, McKay talked too much, Ronon didn't talk enough, and Eva talked back. No local would tell them anything.
"Fine," Sheppard conceded. "Teyla and Rodney, you're with me. Rogers and Eva, you're with Ronon. Rendez-vous here at 15:00. Stay on your radios."
They parted ways and continued their exploration of the settlement, asking villagers their rehearsed litany of questions. Rogers ended up doing most of the talking, as Teyla predicted, for neither Ronon nor Eva made the locals particularly willing to share anything with them. The linguist, on the other hand, could get anyone – the male population in particular – to stop and chat with her. She would flip her hair, bat her eyelashes, touch them on the arm…her usual round of tricks. After one particularly lengthy conversation that ended with the villager kissing her hand, she returned to debrief the other two.
"What'd he say?" Eva asked.
Rogers wiped the back of her hand on her pants. "He was a bit more forthcoming that some of the others."
Ronon snorted under his breath. Forthcoming was right.
Her eyes zeroed in on his so fast, he felt his breath catch. "You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar," she quipped.
He couldn't deny that. Her honey was definitely what that man had been after.
"Anyway, seems like the Wraith haven't culled this planet since before his birth. So at least thirty years."
Ronon frowned. "That's a long time."
Rogers nodded in agreement. "Suspiciously long."
"Nothing about Janus, though?" Eva eagerly asked.
Rogers shook her head. "No. Unfortunately not."
Eva let out a sigh of frustration. "This is going nowhere. Nobody knows anything, nobody will tell us anything, and I'm gonna be stuck here forever. Can we just call it quits?" she whined.
"No," Ronon said gruffly. Sheppard had given them orders to talk with the traders and other inhabitants of the settlement and they weren't going to stop just because she was fed up.
"I have to pee, anyway," she groaned.
"Why didn't you go in the forest?" he asked.
"Because I didn't have to go then," she answered.
Rogers gestured in front of them. "Looks like there's a tavern up ahead." She turned to Ronon. "It wouldn't be a bad place to gather more intel. We could talk with the patrons…the bartender. Out of anyone in the village, he probably knows its secrets better than anyone."
She had a point. If they wanted to maximize their efforts, going to a place with a high concentration of villagers was likely their best bet.
"I'm getting hungry anyway," she shrugged.
"Fine," he grunted. The wooden building with thatched roof and swinging iron sign looked reputable enough.
Ronon pushed open the door with a tinkling of a bell and the sound of voices and laughter filled the air. It was peak lunch hour and the place was packed with people. Eva advanced past him and immediately made her way to the rear of the establishment in search of the latrines. Ronon followed her closely but not before turning back to look at Rogers. "Find us a seat at the bar."
She nodded in agreement, then disappeared into the crowd. Ronon refocused his attention on Eva. She opened the door to the latrine, but he intercepted it with his hand.
"What are you doing?" Eva asked. "Don't come in here with me!"
He pushed past her and poked his head into the dingy room to ensure that it was secure. "We both know Sheppard assigned you to me so I could keep you safe. So, I'm making sure this place is safe." He knocked on the sides of the walls to make sure none of them were false, pushed to see how far the window would open, and checked to make sure the bolt was functioning. "Lock the door," he said, backing out of the room.
"Duh," she replied with a quick shake of her head. "Now go away."
He left her to do her business and returned to the common area. A head taller than almost everyone around him, he effortlessly surveyed the crowded tavern until he pinpointed the only redhead in the establishment. He joined her at the bar where she sat with a basket of bread in front of her.
He glanced at her briefly, but kept a watchful eye on the crowd. "You have a chance to talk with the barkeep?"
"No, not yet." She reached past him to grab a small loaf from the basket. "I haven't even seen him." She broke it in half and handed him a piece. "Where did you go?"
He looked down at the bread and took it from her. "Went to make sure the bathroom was safe." He tore off a piece of the sourdough with his teeth, still eyeing the other patrons of the establishment. There was an elderly woman at the end of the bar huddled over a steaming mug of hot tea, a raucous group of men gathered tightly around a large center table, likely farmers based on the smell of sweat and manure that wafted their way, two older men engaged in some type of tabletop game in the far corner… Everyone seemed to have their own place, their own group, their own routine. As Ronon's eyes swept over the room one more time, a sickly man near the front window dressed in rumpled clothes drew his gaze. He was looking directly at them.
Ronon leaned close to Rogers and whispered in her ear. "Don't make it obvious…but take a look at the man near the window."
Emma lowered her head and flicked her eyes up toward the man Ronon had indicated. She swallowed her bit of bread. "Okay?" she questioned in a hushed voice.
"He's acting strange."
She took a quick swig of water. "Strange, how?"
"He won't stop staring at us," he murmured, shifting in his chair. "We should get out of here as soon as we can."
She let out a quiet breath of air that, in their still-close proximity, ruffled his beard. She smiled up at him. "I don't think he's looking at me any differently than certain men on base do."
He glanced at the man again, whose eyes were still fixed on them. Maybe she was right, but he didn't want to take any chances.
"Once Eva's done, we should lea – what are you doing?"
Rogers had taken one of his hands in hers, laced her fingers between his, and finally brought his hand to her thigh. She swept her hair to one side and turned her gaze toward the wall behind the bar. He could see her rapid pulse beating beneath her pale skin in the hollow of her throat. She was anxious. His hand briefly and involuntarily tightened around the flesh of her leg. Apparently, so was he.
"Is he still staring?" she asked, voice low.
Ronon stole another furtive look over to the villager. She was right. It was a small gesture, but with his hand on her leg, he had staked his claim. And he knew enough about his own effect on others that a man like the villager wouldn't dare to challenge him. "No," he admitted.
She directed her gaze back to him. "Told you," she chirped before popping another bite of bread into her mouth.
He looked over Rogers's shoulder to see Eva emerge from the latrine and make her way toward them.
"Shoulda just gone in the forest," she muttered.
He rolled his eyes.
Eva brushed her hands against her pants to dry them off and peered into the basket of bread. "So, what's for lunch?"
Ronon felt Rogers start as the barkeep, with a loud thump, set two mugs of ale in front of them. They turned around to see a large man with a ruddy complexion and a gray moustache smiling jovially at them. His sleeves were pushed to his elbows and had flung a grubby rag over his shoulder.
"We didn't ask for these," she smiled.
The man took the rag into his hand and began mopping up the ale that had spilled on the counter. "On the house," he said to them, "for the couple."
Ronon narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Why?"
Rogers shot him a reproachful glare, which he took to mean that she thought he could have asked more politely.
He tossed the towel back over his shoulder. "I've been doing this long enough to recognize a pair of newlyweds when I see them. Might you two require lodging this evening?" he asked with a loaded smirk.
Emma's back straightened and Ronon quickly removed his hand from her leg. He could hear Eva disguise her laughter as a cough from behind him.
"We still have a few fine rooms left upstairs," he offered. "One for the two of you and one for your…uh…" he looked over to Eva.
"Sister," Ronon supplied.
"No thank you," Rogers answered politely. "That won't be necessary. We're just passing through."
"We have hourly rates, as well," the barkeep persisted.
"Really. That's all right," Rogers said with more firmness, flushing red. "We were wondering if you could answer a few questions for us, though."
As Rogers asked some circuitous questions that might lead them to the location of a secret lab, Ronon glanced back to the window where the man had been watching them earlier…but he was gone. Maybe he had lost interest in Rogers and left, but he didn't recall hearing the twinkle of the tavern door's bell any time in the last few minutes. Uneasy, he laid a hand on Eva's back and ushered her a bit closer to him before returning his attention to the conversation between the tavern owner and Rogers.
"I don't know anything about that," the barkeep said, "but rumor round town has it that there's strange folk asking similar questions out on the east side of the village."
"Yes," Rogers nodded. "Those would be our friends."
"So you haven't ever heard of a man disappearing into thin air?" Eva asked. "Or stories of one of the Ancestors returning to this planet?"
"'Fraid not," he shook his head.
"Sounds like the Portunos," the old woman at the end of the bar laughed.
"Calista!" the bartender chastised.
She brushed him off with a wave of her hand.
Rogers turned to the woman with interest. "The Portunos? What's that?"
"It was a story my mother would tell me as a child." By this point, the bartender was glowering at her, but she paid him no mind. "Long ago, the Portunos was a man – some say one of the Ancestors – who would come to the village every lunar cycle. He would stay for several days and in return for the village's hospitality, he would bless the herds of cattle and offer the inhabitants of this planet protection against the Wraith."
Rogers and Eva exchanged a glance. "And does he still come here?"
The woman shook her head. "The Portunos eventually stopped his visits and not too long after, the entire planet fell to the Wraith. For centuries, our people would tell stories of the Portunos and curse his abandonment of our home."
"But not anymore?" Rogers asked. "You're the first person to mention this Portunos."
The woman leaned closer and lowered her voice. "It has been a generation since the Wraith culled our planet. Some believe, unbeknownst to us, that the Portunos has returned in secret…but they fear that speaking his name will cause him to abandon us once more."
"But not you?" Ronon asked.
Her eyes, alight with a vitality that did not match her decrepit exterior, shifted to him. "I believe there are other things, other forces at work, that have kept the Wraith away."
What the hell did that mean? he wondered. Before he could ask, Rogers was already on her next question.
"What made people think he was one of the Ancestors?"
"Like you said, dear, the legend states that he could walk through walls…vanish at will." The woman then gave her a dubious look, debating whether she should tell them more. "The temple of the Portunos is long abandoned," she finally continued. "It is north of the settlement, hidden amongst a grove of nettle trees." She hesitated. "But take heed; no one has been there for many years."
"Why not?" Eva whispered, absorbed in the woman's tale.
"Many who dared go there in the past fell gravely ill."
The hairs on the back of Ronon's neck stood on end, but not because of the woman's warning... He sensed a new presence in their vicinity. He glanced over his shoulder and laid eyes on the staring villager from earlier. The man was now seated at the bar, a short distance away, watching them closely. It only took a millisecond, and had Ronon blinked, he would have missed it, but he saw the man's eyes dart to the two mugs of ale. Just as Rogers was exuberantly thanking the woman next to her for sharing her story, Ronon interrupted by placing his hand on the back of her head and leaning close to her in a would-be gesture of affection. He pressed his cheek to hers and whispered into her ear. "The ale is poisoned." He pulled away from her and she stared, wide-eyed, back at him.
Suddenly, Rogers grimaced and gripped tightly to the bar for support, clutching to her stomach with her other hand.
Ronon leapt out of his seat and took her forearms in his hands. His heart was pounding. Had she drunk some of the ale already?
"Emma?" He made to reach for his blaster, but she snatched his wrist in her hand with surprising agility. He wasn't above shooting them out of the tavern, but she apparently had some objections. "Are you all right?"
She nodded through closed eyes, pain etched across her features. She took a deep breath in through her nose and opened her eyes. "It's just, um…" she hesitated, looking for an explanation until her eyes fell upon Eva, "it's the baby," she whispered to Ronon, her fingers splayed across her stomach.
What? It took him a full five seconds to catch up with her plan, but when he did, relief washed over him. It was a ruse – a way to get out of drinking the ale, to get out of the tavern, without arising too much suspicion.
"Of course," he nodded, helping her to stand. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, reached quickly into his pocket to place a few silver pieces onto the bar, and then took one of her hands in his.
"Thank you for your hospitality," Rogers croaked to the bartender, doubled over slightly as she stood in Ronon's grip. "But I think we need some rest," she said, bringing her hand along with Ronon's to her abdomen to emphasize precisely what she meant by "we."
"It's still early," Ronon supplied. "She's only six," he looked directly at Eva as he uttered the number, "weeks along. Don't want to take any risks."
He hoped that Eva would get his meaning – their six was precisely what he wanted her to watch.
"If you need to rest in one of the beds upstairs, please do," the bartender offered.
Rogers shook her head graciously. "You're too kind, but I think it's best that we return home. Let's go," she whispered gently to Ronon. "Fair day to you all," she nodded to the group.
"Stay close, sister," Ronon called to Eva.
As they exited, Eva came up behind them and laid a comforting hand on Rogers's back to hide that she was pulling Ronon's gun from its holster.
So she had understood.
He heard the soft, telltale whine of the blaster switching from kill to stun. Infuriating as Eva was, she was damn clever, too. It must have been something she got from her mother.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Thank you again for reading and reviewing!
P.S. Did anyone notice this is the first time Ronon calls Emma by her first name? ;)