fic: "Not Ready Yet" [shark challenge]
TITLE: Not Ready Yet
AUTHOR: Tielan
SUMMARY: His instincts still tell him that if he stays still, he'll die.
CHARACTER: Ronon
NOTES: With an unabashed tilt of the head to kbk's "Perpetual" from earlier on in the challenge. I hope you don't mind: I wanted to try the perspective with Ronon in Atlantis.
"Like other fish, sharks extract their oxygen from seawater as it passes over their gills. Due to their size and the nature of their metabolism, sharks have a higher demand for oxygen than most fish and they cannot rely on ambient water current to provide an adequate supply of oxygenated water. If a shark were to stop swimming, the necessary water circulation for respiration would become too low and the animal could suffocate."
~ from the Wikipedia entry on sharks ~
- not ready yet -
He's used to being on the move, on the run, unending, unceasing.
At first it's hard to sit still in Atlantis.
There's no real reason to sit still in Atlantis either. People and things moving everywhere, flowing as sure and strong as the currents of the sea in which the city sits - this floating city of light and strange, noisy people who grate on him with their presence and their purpose - especially after the solitude and silence of his life.
Ronon glances up at the architecture as he paces through the city and wonders what the engineers of Sateda would have made of Atlantis. It's a pretty city, full of busy people, from the too-eager Sheppard to the very polite little woman who follows McKay around like he hung the sun.
And it grates on his nerves.
They tell him he can relax here, but his instincts still tell him to run.
Running is out of the question - not with two guys following him around all the time - but he can't sit still either.
If he stays still, he'll die.
--
In one of the rooms, he finds what he needs, what he craves. Motion - pure and vicious, with an edge and a core of fire. This he knows.
She's small, but a fighter worth fighting. And she's got the predator's instinct, for all that he hears her people used to be prey to the Wraith.
They parry and block, block and parry. He watches her eyes, she watches his. He strikes high but she doesn't cede his advantage, and while she can't get inside his guard, she can batter him on his defences.
Every deflection eases back his need to move, every warding proves he's still alive and running.
He's not dead yet.
And then Sheppard comes in and interrupts Ronon's motion.
Ronon could kill the man for it. As it is, he takes it out on Teyla, who's surprised by his action, but not at the motivations behind it. She said he didn't have to go easy on her, and if he didn't take her at her word to begin with, he did once he realised she was more than capable of holding him off.
Sheppard's worried about his friend. Ronon doesn't stay for the touching concern.
He's on the move again before he knows it.
Rooms and people and more rooms and more people, doing things he's never heard of with equipment he's never seen. It's everything and nothing like Sateda. These people remind him of home, but not quite.
And they're fighting back.
Sateda fought back before it was laid waste.
He could fight the Wraith from here. If he can bring himself to stop running. It's not easy.
His instincts still tell him that if he stays here, he'll die.
--
He goes to see Teyla.
He needs to apologise anyway, even if she doesn't think he does. And he needs to get an idea of these people through her eyes.
"There are things they do not understand, even now," she says, her legs now curled up beneath her. "This galaxy breeds strength." Stillness comes easily to her, not so much to him. He envies her the tranquillity that rests around her shoulders like a visible cloak. Teyla Emmagen of the Athosians knows she can be still.
Ronon has to relearn it.
"You do what you have to."
She understands what he means and not just what he's saying. "They have protected this city with their technology and their courage," she tells him. "That will not change whether you stay or go."
Ronon nods and turns to leave.
"Seven years is a long time to run."
At the door, he pauses as her words - her sympathy - sinks in. Then the long corridors of the city beckon him on.
He thinks perhaps he could stay here, but he's not ready yet.
Not quite.
- fin -
AUTHOR: Tielan
SUMMARY: His instincts still tell him that if he stays still, he'll die.
CHARACTER: Ronon
NOTES: With an unabashed tilt of the head to kbk's "Perpetual" from earlier on in the challenge. I hope you don't mind: I wanted to try the perspective with Ronon in Atlantis.
"Like other fish, sharks extract their oxygen from seawater as it passes over their gills. Due to their size and the nature of their metabolism, sharks have a higher demand for oxygen than most fish and they cannot rely on ambient water current to provide an adequate supply of oxygenated water. If a shark were to stop swimming, the necessary water circulation for respiration would become too low and the animal could suffocate."
~ from the Wikipedia entry on sharks ~
- not ready yet -
He's used to being on the move, on the run, unending, unceasing.
At first it's hard to sit still in Atlantis.
There's no real reason to sit still in Atlantis either. People and things moving everywhere, flowing as sure and strong as the currents of the sea in which the city sits - this floating city of light and strange, noisy people who grate on him with their presence and their purpose - especially after the solitude and silence of his life.
Ronon glances up at the architecture as he paces through the city and wonders what the engineers of Sateda would have made of Atlantis. It's a pretty city, full of busy people, from the too-eager Sheppard to the very polite little woman who follows McKay around like he hung the sun.
And it grates on his nerves.
They tell him he can relax here, but his instincts still tell him to run.
Running is out of the question - not with two guys following him around all the time - but he can't sit still either.
If he stays still, he'll die.
--
In one of the rooms, he finds what he needs, what he craves. Motion - pure and vicious, with an edge and a core of fire. This he knows.
She's small, but a fighter worth fighting. And she's got the predator's instinct, for all that he hears her people used to be prey to the Wraith.
They parry and block, block and parry. He watches her eyes, she watches his. He strikes high but she doesn't cede his advantage, and while she can't get inside his guard, she can batter him on his defences.
Every deflection eases back his need to move, every warding proves he's still alive and running.
He's not dead yet.
And then Sheppard comes in and interrupts Ronon's motion.
Ronon could kill the man for it. As it is, he takes it out on Teyla, who's surprised by his action, but not at the motivations behind it. She said he didn't have to go easy on her, and if he didn't take her at her word to begin with, he did once he realised she was more than capable of holding him off.
Sheppard's worried about his friend. Ronon doesn't stay for the touching concern.
He's on the move again before he knows it.
Rooms and people and more rooms and more people, doing things he's never heard of with equipment he's never seen. It's everything and nothing like Sateda. These people remind him of home, but not quite.
And they're fighting back.
Sateda fought back before it was laid waste.
He could fight the Wraith from here. If he can bring himself to stop running. It's not easy.
His instincts still tell him that if he stays here, he'll die.
--
He goes to see Teyla.
He needs to apologise anyway, even if she doesn't think he does. And he needs to get an idea of these people through her eyes.
"There are things they do not understand, even now," she says, her legs now curled up beneath her. "This galaxy breeds strength." Stillness comes easily to her, not so much to him. He envies her the tranquillity that rests around her shoulders like a visible cloak. Teyla Emmagen of the Athosians knows she can be still.
Ronon has to relearn it.
"You do what you have to."
She understands what he means and not just what he's saying. "They have protected this city with their technology and their courage," she tells him. "That will not change whether you stay or go."
Ronon nods and turns to leave.
"Seven years is a long time to run."
At the door, he pauses as her words - her sympathy - sinks in. Then the long corridors of the city beckon him on.
He thinks perhaps he could stay here, but he's not ready yet.
Not quite.
- fin -