Fic: The Scarlet Thread PG13 2/3
The Scarlet Thread
Elizabeth paced in the infirmary while Carson Beckett to analyzed the dog tags. He finally looked up from his microscope. "The DNA belongs to Colonel Sheppard. I also took the liberty of having Lieutenant Weldon, from security, dust for fingerprints. The only prints on the tags are Colonel Sheppard's. I'd say that he was alive when he dropped them. That's hopeful, no?"
She sank down on a chair in relief. "Yes. It is hopeful, Carson. Thank you." Her head ached and she rubbed her temples. She wouldn't be accompanying the search team, even though every fiber of her being longed to go with them. She touched her radio. "Major Lorne, is your team ready?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"The good news is that it appears that Colonel Sheppard dropped the dog tags himself."
"And the bad news?"
"Dr. McKay hasn't been able to extract the next gate address. Let's hope Ronon has found something on Caldos."
"I hope so, ma'am. We'll be leaving when we load the last of the supplies."
"Stay in touch, Major. Good luck."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. We'll bring him home."
Home. Lorne, one of the natural ATA carriers, had felt what she had been imagining. Atlantis seemed empty, lonely, without Sheppard. It went beyond the concern the members of the expedition felt, it was the city itself missing Sheppard. Nobody spoke to the city like he did; the city sang for him and mourned for him. She didn't go to the gate room, but she watched the jumper leave on her office monitor. "Come home, John," she whispered before she turned back to the work on her desk.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Caldos was as damp and dreary as it had been when he had left it. This time, he wore a leather coat, his sword in a scabbard at his side, and his gun strapped securely to his thigh. There was a 9mm tucked in the small of his back, and an assortment of knives concealed on his body. He was a walking arsenal, but nothing was more dangerous than his anger. He nursed it burning in his gut, let it surround and inflame his heart. He had agreed to meet the search and rescue team at the gate, but if he discovered where Sheppard was being held, he would go through that gate alone. A lost minute could cost Sheppard his life.
Ronon moved through the streets under the cover of darkness. It would be dawn in a few hours, but he preferred to hunt at night. He made his way to Heurin's house. It was dark. He tested the door and felt the rigidity of a bolt. The door was secure, as were the windows. Ronon found a rain barrel and climbed on it, then hoisted himself to the roof. There was a trapdoor; he figured there would be. On the few days of sunshine, the Caldosians opened the doors for ventilation and light. Foolishly, Heurin had left it unsecured, though Ronon had been prepared to blast his way in if he had to. He opened it silently and lowered himself into the main room of the house.
The fire was banked, the embers glowing faintly. A corner of the room was curtained off -- Heurin's sleeping chamber. Ronon drew his knife and slid the blanket silently aside. He knelt next to Heurin and set the cold iron against the man's neck. Before the Caldosian could cry out, Ronon clapped a hand over his mouth. Heurin's eyes were wide with alarm.
"Tell me what I want to know and I won't kill you," Ronon whispered softly. "Lie to me and you'll watch your blood leak out until you're dead. Understand?"
Heurin nodded. Ronon let the tip of his knife draw a bead of blood, and Heurin whimpered. "Tell me where to find your Genii accomplice. I know they did not all leave with Sheppard." He lifted his hand to allow Heurin to speak.
"At the inn. He's not in uniform."
"Which room?"
"Big one on the second floor."
"His name?"
"Eskevan."
Ronon pulled out his gun and shot Heurin. Briefly, he had considered setting it to kill, but decided to do as Sheppard would have wanted. He could kill the man later if he had lied.
The inn door was opened by a sleepy kitchen boy who took one look at Ronon and backed away from the entrance. Ronon dug in his pocket and gave the boy a coin. He winked and held his finger to his lips, like he was trusting the boy to keep a secret. He headed up the stairs.
He used one of his small, narrow-bladed knives to open the door and pulled out his gun. Two bodies on the bed. A man and a woman. This was not something he had anticipated. He stroked the woman's shoulder. She sighed, stretched, revealing generous breasts. One more light touch and she opened her eyes. Ronon's hand came down over her mouth quickly. He made a hushing motion. "Get out," he mouthed. The man next to the woman moved and snored. His breath was sour with ale. "Go."
The woman snatched a robe from the foot of the bed and scurried from the room. Ronon sat on the edge of the bed and got out his knife. "Eskevan?" The answer was a grunt. Ronon nudged him with the hilt. "Eskevan. Genii. Wake up."
He did, with the point of Ronon's knife poised over his jugular. After that, it was easy. Easy for Ronon, not for the Genii. He left a quivering, bleeding coward on the bed where a Genii soldier had been. He wasn't proud of what he had to do, but he left with what he wanted. The gate address where a man called Acasta Kolya had taken the 'Lantean prisoner.
Ronon left the address on a flat stone marked with a scrap of his shirt near the DHD, dialed it, and stepped through. He was going to find Sheppard and bring him home.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
The planet he stepped out on was bathed in early morning light. The gate and controls were overgrown, but for bent grasses that Ronon followed away from the site. Three, maybe four men, and one being dragged. There was no blood. It could mean Sheppard was still alive. Or it could mean they were dragging a corpse.
Ronon kept to the trail. It was preternaturally quiet; no wild animals, no birds, He wondered why. The planet had the stillness that he recalled from places the Wraith had culled. He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his gun before he started walking again.
The grasses grew thin and dry, then faded into dusty soil. Stunted fir trees grew from rocks, and the trail grew as thin as the grass. Then it stopped. Ronon found himself facing a rock wall, and in front of the wall were the husks of two Genii soldiers. They had been attacked by the Wraith.
Ronon dropped to his knees. He wanted to howl, to rend his dreads, to beat against the rock until his hand bled and his bones were crushed. He felt scalding tears falling down his cheeks, running into his beard and dropping on his fingers. He was too late. He was lost.
Stop. The voice of his father was clear in his mind. Stop and look at what is before you, not what you think you see. Emotion will cloud you, boy. Now, put it away in your heart and see with your eyes. Use the skills you have been taught.
Ronon wiped his tears away. His vision cleared. Two dead Genii. Where were the others? He studied the tracks. Heavy-heeled boot prints told him that there was only one Wraith. He hadn't been looking for signs of the Wraith; he had been too focused on the Genii. He stood up slowly and followed the tracks. The Wraith had been moving quickly. A sudden swirl in the dust and a deeper heel print showed where he had paused and probably fired his stunner.
Less than fifty yards further, Ronon found the Wraith. Dead. Shot by weapons such as the Genii carried. It had been dead for at least three days. There were no signs that they had carried, or dragged Sheppard that far. Ronon headed back to where the trail had stopped.
He studied the rock formation. In what had first appeared to be a solid wall, he now saw shadows and crevices revealed by the lowering sun, and a narrow path threading through the rocks. Footing was precarious, and the trail of prints was nearly impossible to follow, but he was used to hunting, to finding prey, so he went carefully and silently. The only tracks were Genii, and the drag of a body.
The path curved around to the far side of the formation where a dark crevice, scarcely wide enough for him to enter sideways, led into a cave. Ronon slipped in. The darkness was palpable even with the light bleeding in from the entry. In an hour, when the sun was lower in the sky, it would be absolute. He cautiously followed the path, brushing against the wall with his palms. The air grew cooler, then cold. He had entered a wider chamber.
"Sheppard?" His voice echoed, whispering in a far greater space than he had anticipated. He shivered. With nearly as much caution as he had entered, he exited the cave. Tearing the sleeves from his shirt and lashing together several branches from a scrub pine, he made two torches, lighting it with a shot from his gun on the lowest power just before he re-entered the cave.
The cavern was large. Water dripped from limestone formations. Ronon had seen such things before; on Sateda there had been vast caverns like stone forests. This one was less impressive, given another few aeons, perhaps it would rival the Satedan caves. But for now, it was dark, cold, and silent. Small passages led off the main chamber, which seemed to suggest that at some time in the distant past, the caves had been mined. He paced cautiously across the floor, holding his torch at each passage. No air stirred from the first two, the final one sent out enough of a draught to make the flame flicker.
Ronon had to hunch over to navigate the narrow tunnel. The path was wet, the walls were sheeted with water, and it was cold. His torch was beginning to gutter. He lit the second one from the remains of the first.
"Sheppard?" He whispered. The echoes mocked him. He entered a small, dank chamber. Thick chains had been driven into the walls and there was a rusted grate in the floor. Ronon felt sick. This wasn't a mine. It was a prison. His eyes saw scratches on the floor and flakes of rust on the grate. It had been recently opened.
"Sheppard!" This time, he didn't whisper. This time, he heard a sound, no more than an exhalation. He yanked at the grate, his strength tearing it from the rust-weakened and twisted hinges. He held the torch into the darkness. It was a cell; not large, not deep. Ronon laid the torch down and carefully eased himself down. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the wavering light.
He heard the hitch of a breath and then he saw Sheppard. He crawled over to him. The Genii had taken his uniform and Sheppard was wearing some sort of thin woven shirt and pants. His feet were bare, cold as ice. Ronon tried to warm them in his hands. "Hey, buddy. Told you I'd come for you." He hadn't, but he had willed it hard enough that Sheppard had to know it was true.
He ran gentle hands over Sheppard's body. He turned him gently. Even in that dark place, he had been blindfolded. He was tied, hand and foot with leather thongs that had tightened as they dried, cutting into his flesh. Ronon cut the bindings on his legs. He kept his hands tied so he could slip them over his neck. He touched Sheppard's throat. His skin was cold, his pulse thready. He wasn't conscious, but he was breathing.
He would have died there; alone, abandoned by his Genii captors, unknown by the Wraith. If Ronon hadn't come through the gate, they might never have found him. He might still die, if Ronon couldn't get him out of there. "Okay, buddy. We're gonna do this together," he said,. "Don't know how, but we will."
It took too long. Sheppard was long and lean, but even having lost weight, he was still heavy and lax. By the time Ronon had heaved him over the lip of the entrance, the torch was guttering. By the time he had climbed out, it was nothing but embers. There was nothing for Ronon to use as another torch, and in despair, he watched it dim and die.
He gathered Sheppard close, held him for warmth. Held him, because there was nothing else he could do. Maybe, in full daylight, some glimmer of light would leak into the darkness and he could move, but until it did, he couldn't risk the paths in the black night.
"We'll wait," he sighed. "They'll come." He spoke with more faith than he felt. His hope was fading as the torch had died.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
The team stepped out of the cloaked jumper onto Caldosian soil. It was daylight; the usual grim and gray skies overhead threatened rain. Lorne shivered. This place gave him the willies. Even foggy San Francisco had sunny days. This place seemed to have been formed of darkness, damp and gloom. The marines did a quick sweep of the area.
"Sir, there's no sign of Ronon Dex," one of them informed him. "Perhaps we should go into town."
It wasn't like Ronon to miss a rendezvous, particularly with Sheppard's life depending on it. Lorne looked at Rodney. "Can you pick up his transmitter?"
"No, but this gate has been dialed recently."
"Great." Lorne rubbed his forehead. "Just what we need -- more wasted time."
"Major!" Teyla ran towards him, a swatch of cloth in her hand. "Ronon was here. He left this ..." she tugged him towards a rock. "Look."
It took a moment, but the scratches finally registered as symbols. "McKay ... is that ...?"
"Yes, yes, yes. An address. He must have gone through. It figures he'd rush off without us."
"Dial it," Lorne ordered. "Sergeant, get your marines together. We'll deal with Heurin later."
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Ronon was afraid to sleep. Sheppard was still unconscious, but aware on some level that he wasn't alone. He was shivering despite the warmth of Ronon's body, his hands fisted in Ronon's shirt his face turned to Ronon's chest. Because there was nothing to be done in the darkness, Ronon talked to Sheppard. He talked about Atlantis, about Teyla and Rodney, about Lorne and the others. He talked about Sateda and his father. About traditions ... About the scarlet thread.
"When a boy has ten summers, he spends a night alone in the forest. He's given only a knife, and he must make shelter, a fire, and kill his prey. Before I left my village, my father tied a piece of scarlet thread around our wrists, kind of like handcuffs. When I reached the forest, my father cut the thread and said, 'As I cut the cord that bound you to your mother at birth, I will cut this thread that binds the child to the man.' When the I returned to the village in the morning, my father took the thread from his wrist and weaved both threads into his my hair. He said, 'Ronon Dex, you are a man, but we are bound together for life.'"
Ronon fell silent. "Don't know why I told you that, but it means something to me." He smoothed Sheppard's hair. "Maybe you heard, maybe not. Maybe I'll tell you again, sometime." He shifted Sheppard's body to wrap him more securely in his arms, and waited.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Ronon hadn't bothered to disguise his tracks. It was easy for Teyla to follow them. McKay tried the life signs detector, but it kept coming up void of any indication that either Ronon or Sheppard were nearby. Rodney wouldn't admit the possibility that they were both dead ... both gone from this place.
They found the dead Genii. "Wraith," Teyla said, though it was obvious.
Lorne bent down and touched one of the bodies. "I don't know how to tell how long they've been dead. It's been a while, I'm guessing. "Three, maybe four days."
"Sir," Stackhouse's voice came over the com. "I found a dead Wraith."
"On my way."
They made their way to Stackhouse's position. Lorne looked down at the body. He had been hoping the wounds had been made by Ronon's gun, but these were clearly caused by Genii weapons. He had two dead Genii, one dead Wraith, no sign that either were still on the planet, and no sign that Ronon had been taken. "Teyla?"
She was studying the tracks. "Ronon was here, and moved on towards the ridge up there."
"It looks like a dead end."
"I do not think so, Major."
"Okay, let's go. McKay?"
"I'm climbing up there?" Lorne raised his brow. "All right, I'm climbing up there." He shouldered his data pad and kept the small detector in his hand.
Teyla was small and light-footed. She covered the ground quickly following Ronon's tracks. "He went up there," she pointed. "I can see the path. It's quite steep and narrow."
"My day keeps getting better," Lorne sighed. "C'mon, Doc."
"I did tell you I flunked mountain climbing?" It was a half-hearted protest. Even McKay was driven by the hope that they would find their friends at the end of the path.
The entrance to the cave was a dark gash in the rocks. Lorne and the others switched on the flashlights on their P-90s as they filed inside. Lorne held up his fist. "Careful," he cautioned. "Single file. Teyla, behind me. Next McKay."
"Shouldn't the marines go first?" Rodney asked.
"You've got the detector. I need you up front."
"Right."
They moved in single file, then emerged into the first large cavern. Lorne swept his flashlight up and around; the crystals cast back the light in all colors of the rainbow as if filtered through a prism. The marines stood gaping at the sight, awed by what they had revealed merely by illuminating it.
"Let there be light," Lorne murmured. He looked around at the dark tunnels leading off from the main cavern. "Question is, where do we go from here?"
"I can help with that," Rodney said. "How about that one ..." He pointed.
"Anything particular tell you that?"
"Well, umm, there is signal from Ronon's transmitter ... is that good enough?"
"Is there just one life sign?" Teyla asked urgently.
"Yes."
A little more hope bled out of their hearts. Ronon was alive; perhaps injured, but alive. "Let's go," Lorne ordered. "Two of the marines hold this position just in case somebody else decides to pay a visit. The rest of you, with me."
They went as quickly as they could, conscious of the treacherous stone underfoot, and the narrow passage. "Ronon!" Lorne called out. He directed his flashlight ahead. "Ronon! It's Lorne and Teyla."
"'bout time," Ronon's voice whispered out to them from the shadows ahead. "I've got Sheppard."
Teyla clutched Lorne's sleeve and buried her head in his shoulder. "They're alive!" She nearly sobbed in relief, but caught herself and drew upright.
Lorne's eyes glittered. "Let's go get them."
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
They were all taken aback by what they found. Sheppard, the indestructible, the steel, the backbone of Atlantis, clinging to Ronon, refusing to look at them, refusing to allow them to pry his fingers away from Ronon's shirt.
"Leave it," Ronon said. "I'll carry him."
Lorne looked doubtful. "You do know how narrow the path is, right?"
"I'm fine. He's not."
That much was obvious to all of them. Lorne wished he had Dr. Beckett on the team. At least it would be a short trip home. "Let's do it," he said. Less than half an hour later, they were in Atlantis.
They were home.
Part Three
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Elizabeth paced in the infirmary while Carson Beckett to analyzed the dog tags. He finally looked up from his microscope. "The DNA belongs to Colonel Sheppard. I also took the liberty of having Lieutenant Weldon, from security, dust for fingerprints. The only prints on the tags are Colonel Sheppard's. I'd say that he was alive when he dropped them. That's hopeful, no?"
She sank down on a chair in relief. "Yes. It is hopeful, Carson. Thank you." Her head ached and she rubbed her temples. She wouldn't be accompanying the search team, even though every fiber of her being longed to go with them. She touched her radio. "Major Lorne, is your team ready?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"The good news is that it appears that Colonel Sheppard dropped the dog tags himself."
"And the bad news?"
"Dr. McKay hasn't been able to extract the next gate address. Let's hope Ronon has found something on Caldos."
"I hope so, ma'am. We'll be leaving when we load the last of the supplies."
"Stay in touch, Major. Good luck."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you. We'll bring him home."
Home. Lorne, one of the natural ATA carriers, had felt what she had been imagining. Atlantis seemed empty, lonely, without Sheppard. It went beyond the concern the members of the expedition felt, it was the city itself missing Sheppard. Nobody spoke to the city like he did; the city sang for him and mourned for him. She didn't go to the gate room, but she watched the jumper leave on her office monitor. "Come home, John," she whispered before she turned back to the work on her desk.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Caldos was as damp and dreary as it had been when he had left it. This time, he wore a leather coat, his sword in a scabbard at his side, and his gun strapped securely to his thigh. There was a 9mm tucked in the small of his back, and an assortment of knives concealed on his body. He was a walking arsenal, but nothing was more dangerous than his anger. He nursed it burning in his gut, let it surround and inflame his heart. He had agreed to meet the search and rescue team at the gate, but if he discovered where Sheppard was being held, he would go through that gate alone. A lost minute could cost Sheppard his life.
Ronon moved through the streets under the cover of darkness. It would be dawn in a few hours, but he preferred to hunt at night. He made his way to Heurin's house. It was dark. He tested the door and felt the rigidity of a bolt. The door was secure, as were the windows. Ronon found a rain barrel and climbed on it, then hoisted himself to the roof. There was a trapdoor; he figured there would be. On the few days of sunshine, the Caldosians opened the doors for ventilation and light. Foolishly, Heurin had left it unsecured, though Ronon had been prepared to blast his way in if he had to. He opened it silently and lowered himself into the main room of the house.
The fire was banked, the embers glowing faintly. A corner of the room was curtained off -- Heurin's sleeping chamber. Ronon drew his knife and slid the blanket silently aside. He knelt next to Heurin and set the cold iron against the man's neck. Before the Caldosian could cry out, Ronon clapped a hand over his mouth. Heurin's eyes were wide with alarm.
"Tell me what I want to know and I won't kill you," Ronon whispered softly. "Lie to me and you'll watch your blood leak out until you're dead. Understand?"
Heurin nodded. Ronon let the tip of his knife draw a bead of blood, and Heurin whimpered. "Tell me where to find your Genii accomplice. I know they did not all leave with Sheppard." He lifted his hand to allow Heurin to speak.
"At the inn. He's not in uniform."
"Which room?"
"Big one on the second floor."
"His name?"
"Eskevan."
Ronon pulled out his gun and shot Heurin. Briefly, he had considered setting it to kill, but decided to do as Sheppard would have wanted. He could kill the man later if he had lied.
The inn door was opened by a sleepy kitchen boy who took one look at Ronon and backed away from the entrance. Ronon dug in his pocket and gave the boy a coin. He winked and held his finger to his lips, like he was trusting the boy to keep a secret. He headed up the stairs.
He used one of his small, narrow-bladed knives to open the door and pulled out his gun. Two bodies on the bed. A man and a woman. This was not something he had anticipated. He stroked the woman's shoulder. She sighed, stretched, revealing generous breasts. One more light touch and she opened her eyes. Ronon's hand came down over her mouth quickly. He made a hushing motion. "Get out," he mouthed. The man next to the woman moved and snored. His breath was sour with ale. "Go."
The woman snatched a robe from the foot of the bed and scurried from the room. Ronon sat on the edge of the bed and got out his knife. "Eskevan?" The answer was a grunt. Ronon nudged him with the hilt. "Eskevan. Genii. Wake up."
He did, with the point of Ronon's knife poised over his jugular. After that, it was easy. Easy for Ronon, not for the Genii. He left a quivering, bleeding coward on the bed where a Genii soldier had been. He wasn't proud of what he had to do, but he left with what he wanted. The gate address where a man called Acasta Kolya had taken the 'Lantean prisoner.
Ronon left the address on a flat stone marked with a scrap of his shirt near the DHD, dialed it, and stepped through. He was going to find Sheppard and bring him home.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
The planet he stepped out on was bathed in early morning light. The gate and controls were overgrown, but for bent grasses that Ronon followed away from the site. Three, maybe four men, and one being dragged. There was no blood. It could mean Sheppard was still alive. Or it could mean they were dragging a corpse.
Ronon kept to the trail. It was preternaturally quiet; no wild animals, no birds, He wondered why. The planet had the stillness that he recalled from places the Wraith had culled. He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his gun before he started walking again.
The grasses grew thin and dry, then faded into dusty soil. Stunted fir trees grew from rocks, and the trail grew as thin as the grass. Then it stopped. Ronon found himself facing a rock wall, and in front of the wall were the husks of two Genii soldiers. They had been attacked by the Wraith.
Ronon dropped to his knees. He wanted to howl, to rend his dreads, to beat against the rock until his hand bled and his bones were crushed. He felt scalding tears falling down his cheeks, running into his beard and dropping on his fingers. He was too late. He was lost.
Stop. The voice of his father was clear in his mind. Stop and look at what is before you, not what you think you see. Emotion will cloud you, boy. Now, put it away in your heart and see with your eyes. Use the skills you have been taught.
Ronon wiped his tears away. His vision cleared. Two dead Genii. Where were the others? He studied the tracks. Heavy-heeled boot prints told him that there was only one Wraith. He hadn't been looking for signs of the Wraith; he had been too focused on the Genii. He stood up slowly and followed the tracks. The Wraith had been moving quickly. A sudden swirl in the dust and a deeper heel print showed where he had paused and probably fired his stunner.
Less than fifty yards further, Ronon found the Wraith. Dead. Shot by weapons such as the Genii carried. It had been dead for at least three days. There were no signs that they had carried, or dragged Sheppard that far. Ronon headed back to where the trail had stopped.
He studied the rock formation. In what had first appeared to be a solid wall, he now saw shadows and crevices revealed by the lowering sun, and a narrow path threading through the rocks. Footing was precarious, and the trail of prints was nearly impossible to follow, but he was used to hunting, to finding prey, so he went carefully and silently. The only tracks were Genii, and the drag of a body.
The path curved around to the far side of the formation where a dark crevice, scarcely wide enough for him to enter sideways, led into a cave. Ronon slipped in. The darkness was palpable even with the light bleeding in from the entry. In an hour, when the sun was lower in the sky, it would be absolute. He cautiously followed the path, brushing against the wall with his palms. The air grew cooler, then cold. He had entered a wider chamber.
"Sheppard?" His voice echoed, whispering in a far greater space than he had anticipated. He shivered. With nearly as much caution as he had entered, he exited the cave. Tearing the sleeves from his shirt and lashing together several branches from a scrub pine, he made two torches, lighting it with a shot from his gun on the lowest power just before he re-entered the cave.
The cavern was large. Water dripped from limestone formations. Ronon had seen such things before; on Sateda there had been vast caverns like stone forests. This one was less impressive, given another few aeons, perhaps it would rival the Satedan caves. But for now, it was dark, cold, and silent. Small passages led off the main chamber, which seemed to suggest that at some time in the distant past, the caves had been mined. He paced cautiously across the floor, holding his torch at each passage. No air stirred from the first two, the final one sent out enough of a draught to make the flame flicker.
Ronon had to hunch over to navigate the narrow tunnel. The path was wet, the walls were sheeted with water, and it was cold. His torch was beginning to gutter. He lit the second one from the remains of the first.
"Sheppard?" He whispered. The echoes mocked him. He entered a small, dank chamber. Thick chains had been driven into the walls and there was a rusted grate in the floor. Ronon felt sick. This wasn't a mine. It was a prison. His eyes saw scratches on the floor and flakes of rust on the grate. It had been recently opened.
"Sheppard!" This time, he didn't whisper. This time, he heard a sound, no more than an exhalation. He yanked at the grate, his strength tearing it from the rust-weakened and twisted hinges. He held the torch into the darkness. It was a cell; not large, not deep. Ronon laid the torch down and carefully eased himself down. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the wavering light.
He heard the hitch of a breath and then he saw Sheppard. He crawled over to him. The Genii had taken his uniform and Sheppard was wearing some sort of thin woven shirt and pants. His feet were bare, cold as ice. Ronon tried to warm them in his hands. "Hey, buddy. Told you I'd come for you." He hadn't, but he had willed it hard enough that Sheppard had to know it was true.
He ran gentle hands over Sheppard's body. He turned him gently. Even in that dark place, he had been blindfolded. He was tied, hand and foot with leather thongs that had tightened as they dried, cutting into his flesh. Ronon cut the bindings on his legs. He kept his hands tied so he could slip them over his neck. He touched Sheppard's throat. His skin was cold, his pulse thready. He wasn't conscious, but he was breathing.
He would have died there; alone, abandoned by his Genii captors, unknown by the Wraith. If Ronon hadn't come through the gate, they might never have found him. He might still die, if Ronon couldn't get him out of there. "Okay, buddy. We're gonna do this together," he said,. "Don't know how, but we will."
It took too long. Sheppard was long and lean, but even having lost weight, he was still heavy and lax. By the time Ronon had heaved him over the lip of the entrance, the torch was guttering. By the time he had climbed out, it was nothing but embers. There was nothing for Ronon to use as another torch, and in despair, he watched it dim and die.
He gathered Sheppard close, held him for warmth. Held him, because there was nothing else he could do. Maybe, in full daylight, some glimmer of light would leak into the darkness and he could move, but until it did, he couldn't risk the paths in the black night.
"We'll wait," he sighed. "They'll come." He spoke with more faith than he felt. His hope was fading as the torch had died.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
The team stepped out of the cloaked jumper onto Caldosian soil. It was daylight; the usual grim and gray skies overhead threatened rain. Lorne shivered. This place gave him the willies. Even foggy San Francisco had sunny days. This place seemed to have been formed of darkness, damp and gloom. The marines did a quick sweep of the area.
"Sir, there's no sign of Ronon Dex," one of them informed him. "Perhaps we should go into town."
It wasn't like Ronon to miss a rendezvous, particularly with Sheppard's life depending on it. Lorne looked at Rodney. "Can you pick up his transmitter?"
"No, but this gate has been dialed recently."
"Great." Lorne rubbed his forehead. "Just what we need -- more wasted time."
"Major!" Teyla ran towards him, a swatch of cloth in her hand. "Ronon was here. He left this ..." she tugged him towards a rock. "Look."
It took a moment, but the scratches finally registered as symbols. "McKay ... is that ...?"
"Yes, yes, yes. An address. He must have gone through. It figures he'd rush off without us."
"Dial it," Lorne ordered. "Sergeant, get your marines together. We'll deal with Heurin later."
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Ronon was afraid to sleep. Sheppard was still unconscious, but aware on some level that he wasn't alone. He was shivering despite the warmth of Ronon's body, his hands fisted in Ronon's shirt his face turned to Ronon's chest. Because there was nothing to be done in the darkness, Ronon talked to Sheppard. He talked about Atlantis, about Teyla and Rodney, about Lorne and the others. He talked about Sateda and his father. About traditions ... About the scarlet thread.
"When a boy has ten summers, he spends a night alone in the forest. He's given only a knife, and he must make shelter, a fire, and kill his prey. Before I left my village, my father tied a piece of scarlet thread around our wrists, kind of like handcuffs. When I reached the forest, my father cut the thread and said, 'As I cut the cord that bound you to your mother at birth, I will cut this thread that binds the child to the man.' When the I returned to the village in the morning, my father took the thread from his wrist and weaved both threads into his my hair. He said, 'Ronon Dex, you are a man, but we are bound together for life.'"
Ronon fell silent. "Don't know why I told you that, but it means something to me." He smoothed Sheppard's hair. "Maybe you heard, maybe not. Maybe I'll tell you again, sometime." He shifted Sheppard's body to wrap him more securely in his arms, and waited.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
Ronon hadn't bothered to disguise his tracks. It was easy for Teyla to follow them. McKay tried the life signs detector, but it kept coming up void of any indication that either Ronon or Sheppard were nearby. Rodney wouldn't admit the possibility that they were both dead ... both gone from this place.
They found the dead Genii. "Wraith," Teyla said, though it was obvious.
Lorne bent down and touched one of the bodies. "I don't know how to tell how long they've been dead. It's been a while, I'm guessing. "Three, maybe four days."
"Sir," Stackhouse's voice came over the com. "I found a dead Wraith."
"On my way."
They made their way to Stackhouse's position. Lorne looked down at the body. He had been hoping the wounds had been made by Ronon's gun, but these were clearly caused by Genii weapons. He had two dead Genii, one dead Wraith, no sign that either were still on the planet, and no sign that Ronon had been taken. "Teyla?"
She was studying the tracks. "Ronon was here, and moved on towards the ridge up there."
"It looks like a dead end."
"I do not think so, Major."
"Okay, let's go. McKay?"
"I'm climbing up there?" Lorne raised his brow. "All right, I'm climbing up there." He shouldered his data pad and kept the small detector in his hand.
Teyla was small and light-footed. She covered the ground quickly following Ronon's tracks. "He went up there," she pointed. "I can see the path. It's quite steep and narrow."
"My day keeps getting better," Lorne sighed. "C'mon, Doc."
"I did tell you I flunked mountain climbing?" It was a half-hearted protest. Even McKay was driven by the hope that they would find their friends at the end of the path.
The entrance to the cave was a dark gash in the rocks. Lorne and the others switched on the flashlights on their P-90s as they filed inside. Lorne held up his fist. "Careful," he cautioned. "Single file. Teyla, behind me. Next McKay."
"Shouldn't the marines go first?" Rodney asked.
"You've got the detector. I need you up front."
"Right."
They moved in single file, then emerged into the first large cavern. Lorne swept his flashlight up and around; the crystals cast back the light in all colors of the rainbow as if filtered through a prism. The marines stood gaping at the sight, awed by what they had revealed merely by illuminating it.
"Let there be light," Lorne murmured. He looked around at the dark tunnels leading off from the main cavern. "Question is, where do we go from here?"
"I can help with that," Rodney said. "How about that one ..." He pointed.
"Anything particular tell you that?"
"Well, umm, there is signal from Ronon's transmitter ... is that good enough?"
"Is there just one life sign?" Teyla asked urgently.
"Yes."
A little more hope bled out of their hearts. Ronon was alive; perhaps injured, but alive. "Let's go," Lorne ordered. "Two of the marines hold this position just in case somebody else decides to pay a visit. The rest of you, with me."
They went as quickly as they could, conscious of the treacherous stone underfoot, and the narrow passage. "Ronon!" Lorne called out. He directed his flashlight ahead. "Ronon! It's Lorne and Teyla."
"'bout time," Ronon's voice whispered out to them from the shadows ahead. "I've got Sheppard."
Teyla clutched Lorne's sleeve and buried her head in his shoulder. "They're alive!" She nearly sobbed in relief, but caught herself and drew upright.
Lorne's eyes glittered. "Let's go get them."
^*^*^*^*^*^*^
They were all taken aback by what they found. Sheppard, the indestructible, the steel, the backbone of Atlantis, clinging to Ronon, refusing to look at them, refusing to allow them to pry his fingers away from Ronon's shirt.
"Leave it," Ronon said. "I'll carry him."
Lorne looked doubtful. "You do know how narrow the path is, right?"
"I'm fine. He's not."
That much was obvious to all of them. Lorne wished he had Dr. Beckett on the team. At least it would be a short trip home. "Let's do it," he said. Less than half an hour later, they were in Atlantis.
They were home.
Part Three
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