Evolution by Domenika Marzione [amnesty/Enclosed Spaces challenge]
Evolution
Genfic; 1740 words; Ronon, Teyla
Warning: Takes place during "The Hive", but isn't really spoiling anything that isn't completely obvious.
So I have this list of stories that I suspect I won't write in this fandom. The list is topped by "One without Sheppard" and I was so, so close to getting it crossed off. And then someone had to get the last word in.
smittywing read this a half-dozen times, but anything wonky is all me.
"What was he like before?"
Teyla looks over. Ronon is sitting on the floor, picking at his boots. If he is feeling as she is feeling, the urge to fidget, to move, to explode into action is almost overwhelming. But he looks up at her with calm eyes that only barely hint at fever.
She knows who he's talking about, but isn't sure why he's asking. Ronon is nothing if not vested in the present, occasionally the future, but never the past.
"Aiden was... a friend." It is a word of precise meaning to her, even as the Atlanteans bandy it about so that it loses all but its most vague characteristics. To Teyla, it means that she trusted Aiden Ford, believed in him, respected him.
Ronon nods. He understands. "Anything left?"
Behind them, Kanayo does not stir. He is curled in on himself, deep in the throes of withdrawal, and if he can hear them speak, he doesn't give any indication.
"I do not know," she admits. Her skin has been crawling with fire and ice since before they were thrown into this cell. It hurts to move and it hurts more to keep still. She shifts her position so that her left leg is folded on top of her right instead of the other way around. Her hips burn at the motion. "He is so reckless now -- reckless with others -- and so prideful. And angry. But then there are moments when I am not sure if it is the old Aiden reaching out or my own wishes making me blind to what he has become."
Ronon jerks his hand away from his boots, pressing them flat on the cool, dusty floor. "Sheppard doesn't see."
It's not a question and she doesn't dispute it. "Colonel Sheppard is hopeful," she says instead. "He always believes that things will be better tomorrow. That he can make them better."
"Ford doesn't want to be better," Ronon grunts. "This shit in his system all the time? Can't say I blame him."
Neither can she, not completely. And that is what scares her most.
Addiction is not common in the worlds she has traveled to because the exchange for the sweet relief of narcotics or alcohol is to become easy prey for the Wraith. It is almost unheard of among the Athosians -- there are always those who partake too heavily, but they are a hunting people and anything that impairs mobility will not be tolerated for long. It is a stigma on Earth, too, she knows, especially in the martial culture that shaped Ford and Sheppard.
"Would you trade everything to be able to beat the Wraith?" Ronon asks when the silence starts to creep. Kanayo whimpers in the back of the cell, unwilling to accept comfort or company from either of them.
"Would you not?" she asks in reply, surprised at the question. "But Aiden's plan will not beat the Wraith. It has not beaten the Wraith for we are here." She gestures with her arm around the cell. She feels an ache in her shoulder for doing so.
"There would never be enough enzyme to support an army capable of defeating the Wraith." It horrifies her a little that she has done the calculations to verify.
"Would you have tried it anyway?" That is the question Ronon meant to ask, she is sure.
"Before we met Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir and their people," she begins, careful to not speak of their home, "We were always careful, always moving around, and we had forewarning of most of the Wraith attacks. There were losses, sometimes heavy losses, but we did not suffer as many worlds suffered."
She gestures with her head toward Ronon and he nods so very slightly, accepting her reference to Sateda.
"But feeling what I felt when we were full of the enzyme?" she goes on, shame making her voice quiet, "I confess that I might have considered it. It would be easy to let that... euphoria convince me that I could do things that I would otherwise know I could not."
Ronon looks out through the bars of their cell.
"If I'd known what the enzyme did..." he trails off, a low rumble all the more hard to hear with his face turned away. "I killed enough of them. I might have been him."
A one-man army against the Wraith, destroying them with their own tactics turned against them. He'd have traded the last hope of seeing Sateda again -- of being human again -- and he'd have done it without hesitating.
"Would you do it now?" she asks gently. He has worked hard to make sure that she does not know him well enough to predict the answer.
"Sheppard and the others..." he starts and then stops, still not looking at her. "It's a harder choice to make when you know that there is another way."
She shifts so that she is facing him, her feet on the floor. "I think that that may be their true gift to us, to this galaxy," she says. He turns to her, eyes questioning. "The belief that one day, our children will not look to the future and wonder how they will die, but instead wonder how they shall live."
Ronon snorts, but it's not a mockery that bears any conviction. "You have been with them too long."
His hands travel to his boot tops again and he clenches his fists as he pulls them away.
"And you not long enough." She leans forward, ignoring the throb in her head. "It will be faith that carries us, Ronon."
"And guns." His mouth quirks up in a one-sided grin.
"And guns," she agrees, smiling back.
He looks through the cell door again, then back at her. The grin is gone. "Ford lost his faith?"
She leans back. "He lost his way," she says finally. "He is preoccupied by fears he never knew before, anger he never felt. He is not himself and I can no longer say what drives him."
She remembers Aiden as he was, so very young. The sweet smile has been marred, the boundless enthusiasm warped into paranoid impetus. And then she wonders what Ronon had been like before the Wraith had warped him, too. He is not much older than Ford, but it is so hard to remember that most of the time.
"He has family at home," she says when Ronon does not speak. She doesn't like this silence from him, so different from his usual stoicism. "That this enzyme could make him forget them, forget all that he so desperately missed and is now open to him once more... The enzyme has consequences far more painful than this physical discomfort."
They both look over at Kanayo, who has stilled. The dim light reflects off of his sweaty skin.
"Maybe it's a relief," Ronon says, mostly to himself. "Not to remember."
"Then we would truly be chattel for the Wraith," she snaps back, feeling satisfied when Ronon's head snaps up at her, sullen and surprised. Because she has realized what is making her uneasy -- the thought that Ronon might choose to follow Ford into this darkness. For all that Ronon does not dwell on the past, he held his grudge against Kell for seven years and he put so much at risk that was not his to wager in order to quench it. His hatred of the Wraith goes far deeper than what he felt for Kell.
"It would be no more of a life than what you were forced to do as a Runner."
The muscles in his forearms tense and flex, but his face is impassive.
"The Aiden Ford I knew, if given a moment of clarity, would never choose to become what he has," she says. "He would know that the price is too high for a reward so small."
Ronon holds her gaze. "And if he did it anyway?"
"Then I never knew him at all," she answers with finality, making sure that there is no chance that Ronon misunderstands. "And that is something I would never like to say about a friend."
There is something acquiescent in Ronon's eyes. She has won, at least for now.
It is not a victory she time to savor. The withdrawal pains get worse and they are soon all too wrapped up in their own misery to be either comfort or distraction to the other. Kanayo's agony increases and he is lost to reason, writhing on the ground like a madman. Neither she nor Ronon think he will live, but they don't say anything to him or to each other. Kanayo is of a type she knew through her travels to other worlds -- a Genii spy he might have been, but a timid one he must have been as well. His fortitude comes from the enzyme and as it leaves, so does his resolve. He wants to die and that will kill him more than any chemical.
When it does, the Wraith come to claim his body. Ronon makes a stand and it gets him shot by one of the stunners and Teyla isn't sure that he wasn't doing it intentionally. She doesn't know why the Wraith took Kanayo's body -- it is of no use to them.
After the Wraith leave, there is nothing else to do but see to Ronon, who pushes away with shaking hands her attempts to tend to him. Frustrated and aching, she goes to lie on the bench and sleeps. When she awakens, Ronon's coat is folded under her head for a pillow. A peace offering.
Colonel Sheppard breaks them out soon after, then scoops them up into a Wraith dart he has stolen. Time stops then and there is only a heartbeat between seeing the terrifying beam approaching -- hoping that it is Sheppard -- and standing unsteadily in a grassy, sunlit meadow.
She and Ronon both collapse to the ground, their limbs numb from the rematerialization. They are righting themselves into a sitting position by the time the canopy of the dart opens. She looks over at Ronon and he nods once, acknowledging all that has come before and between them.
"Friends?" he asks.
"Yes," she replies.
Sheppard is grinning as he approaches, a smile she knows well as one that accompanies material damage and the chance to play with toys. "Ready to go home?"
Genfic; 1740 words; Ronon, Teyla
Warning: Takes place during "The Hive", but isn't really spoiling anything that isn't completely obvious.
So I have this list of stories that I suspect I won't write in this fandom. The list is topped by "One without Sheppard" and I was so, so close to getting it crossed off. And then someone had to get the last word in.
smittywing read this a half-dozen times, but anything wonky is all me.
"What was he like before?"
Teyla looks over. Ronon is sitting on the floor, picking at his boots. If he is feeling as she is feeling, the urge to fidget, to move, to explode into action is almost overwhelming. But he looks up at her with calm eyes that only barely hint at fever.
She knows who he's talking about, but isn't sure why he's asking. Ronon is nothing if not vested in the present, occasionally the future, but never the past.
"Aiden was... a friend." It is a word of precise meaning to her, even as the Atlanteans bandy it about so that it loses all but its most vague characteristics. To Teyla, it means that she trusted Aiden Ford, believed in him, respected him.
Ronon nods. He understands. "Anything left?"
Behind them, Kanayo does not stir. He is curled in on himself, deep in the throes of withdrawal, and if he can hear them speak, he doesn't give any indication.
"I do not know," she admits. Her skin has been crawling with fire and ice since before they were thrown into this cell. It hurts to move and it hurts more to keep still. She shifts her position so that her left leg is folded on top of her right instead of the other way around. Her hips burn at the motion. "He is so reckless now -- reckless with others -- and so prideful. And angry. But then there are moments when I am not sure if it is the old Aiden reaching out or my own wishes making me blind to what he has become."
Ronon jerks his hand away from his boots, pressing them flat on the cool, dusty floor. "Sheppard doesn't see."
It's not a question and she doesn't dispute it. "Colonel Sheppard is hopeful," she says instead. "He always believes that things will be better tomorrow. That he can make them better."
"Ford doesn't want to be better," Ronon grunts. "This shit in his system all the time? Can't say I blame him."
Neither can she, not completely. And that is what scares her most.
Addiction is not common in the worlds she has traveled to because the exchange for the sweet relief of narcotics or alcohol is to become easy prey for the Wraith. It is almost unheard of among the Athosians -- there are always those who partake too heavily, but they are a hunting people and anything that impairs mobility will not be tolerated for long. It is a stigma on Earth, too, she knows, especially in the martial culture that shaped Ford and Sheppard.
"Would you trade everything to be able to beat the Wraith?" Ronon asks when the silence starts to creep. Kanayo whimpers in the back of the cell, unwilling to accept comfort or company from either of them.
"Would you not?" she asks in reply, surprised at the question. "But Aiden's plan will not beat the Wraith. It has not beaten the Wraith for we are here." She gestures with her arm around the cell. She feels an ache in her shoulder for doing so.
"There would never be enough enzyme to support an army capable of defeating the Wraith." It horrifies her a little that she has done the calculations to verify.
"Would you have tried it anyway?" That is the question Ronon meant to ask, she is sure.
"Before we met Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir and their people," she begins, careful to not speak of their home, "We were always careful, always moving around, and we had forewarning of most of the Wraith attacks. There were losses, sometimes heavy losses, but we did not suffer as many worlds suffered."
She gestures with her head toward Ronon and he nods so very slightly, accepting her reference to Sateda.
"But feeling what I felt when we were full of the enzyme?" she goes on, shame making her voice quiet, "I confess that I might have considered it. It would be easy to let that... euphoria convince me that I could do things that I would otherwise know I could not."
Ronon looks out through the bars of their cell.
"If I'd known what the enzyme did..." he trails off, a low rumble all the more hard to hear with his face turned away. "I killed enough of them. I might have been him."
A one-man army against the Wraith, destroying them with their own tactics turned against them. He'd have traded the last hope of seeing Sateda again -- of being human again -- and he'd have done it without hesitating.
"Would you do it now?" she asks gently. He has worked hard to make sure that she does not know him well enough to predict the answer.
"Sheppard and the others..." he starts and then stops, still not looking at her. "It's a harder choice to make when you know that there is another way."
She shifts so that she is facing him, her feet on the floor. "I think that that may be their true gift to us, to this galaxy," she says. He turns to her, eyes questioning. "The belief that one day, our children will not look to the future and wonder how they will die, but instead wonder how they shall live."
Ronon snorts, but it's not a mockery that bears any conviction. "You have been with them too long."
His hands travel to his boot tops again and he clenches his fists as he pulls them away.
"And you not long enough." She leans forward, ignoring the throb in her head. "It will be faith that carries us, Ronon."
"And guns." His mouth quirks up in a one-sided grin.
"And guns," she agrees, smiling back.
He looks through the cell door again, then back at her. The grin is gone. "Ford lost his faith?"
She leans back. "He lost his way," she says finally. "He is preoccupied by fears he never knew before, anger he never felt. He is not himself and I can no longer say what drives him."
She remembers Aiden as he was, so very young. The sweet smile has been marred, the boundless enthusiasm warped into paranoid impetus. And then she wonders what Ronon had been like before the Wraith had warped him, too. He is not much older than Ford, but it is so hard to remember that most of the time.
"He has family at home," she says when Ronon does not speak. She doesn't like this silence from him, so different from his usual stoicism. "That this enzyme could make him forget them, forget all that he so desperately missed and is now open to him once more... The enzyme has consequences far more painful than this physical discomfort."
They both look over at Kanayo, who has stilled. The dim light reflects off of his sweaty skin.
"Maybe it's a relief," Ronon says, mostly to himself. "Not to remember."
"Then we would truly be chattel for the Wraith," she snaps back, feeling satisfied when Ronon's head snaps up at her, sullen and surprised. Because she has realized what is making her uneasy -- the thought that Ronon might choose to follow Ford into this darkness. For all that Ronon does not dwell on the past, he held his grudge against Kell for seven years and he put so much at risk that was not his to wager in order to quench it. His hatred of the Wraith goes far deeper than what he felt for Kell.
"It would be no more of a life than what you were forced to do as a Runner."
The muscles in his forearms tense and flex, but his face is impassive.
"The Aiden Ford I knew, if given a moment of clarity, would never choose to become what he has," she says. "He would know that the price is too high for a reward so small."
Ronon holds her gaze. "And if he did it anyway?"
"Then I never knew him at all," she answers with finality, making sure that there is no chance that Ronon misunderstands. "And that is something I would never like to say about a friend."
There is something acquiescent in Ronon's eyes. She has won, at least for now.
It is not a victory she time to savor. The withdrawal pains get worse and they are soon all too wrapped up in their own misery to be either comfort or distraction to the other. Kanayo's agony increases and he is lost to reason, writhing on the ground like a madman. Neither she nor Ronon think he will live, but they don't say anything to him or to each other. Kanayo is of a type she knew through her travels to other worlds -- a Genii spy he might have been, but a timid one he must have been as well. His fortitude comes from the enzyme and as it leaves, so does his resolve. He wants to die and that will kill him more than any chemical.
When it does, the Wraith come to claim his body. Ronon makes a stand and it gets him shot by one of the stunners and Teyla isn't sure that he wasn't doing it intentionally. She doesn't know why the Wraith took Kanayo's body -- it is of no use to them.
After the Wraith leave, there is nothing else to do but see to Ronon, who pushes away with shaking hands her attempts to tend to him. Frustrated and aching, she goes to lie on the bench and sleeps. When she awakens, Ronon's coat is folded under her head for a pillow. A peace offering.
Colonel Sheppard breaks them out soon after, then scoops them up into a Wraith dart he has stolen. Time stops then and there is only a heartbeat between seeing the terrifying beam approaching -- hoping that it is Sheppard -- and standing unsteadily in a grassy, sunlit meadow.
She and Ronon both collapse to the ground, their limbs numb from the rematerialization. They are righting themselves into a sitting position by the time the canopy of the dart opens. She looks over at Ronon and he nods once, acknowledging all that has come before and between them.
"Friends?" he asks.
"Yes," she replies.
Sheppard is grinning as he approaches, a smile she knows well as one that accompanies material damage and the chance to play with toys. "Ready to go home?"