Fic: The Siege (1/5)
As promised. :)
Title: The Siege
Author: miera
Summary: After years of courtship and separation, Elizabeth Weir is finally engaged to John Sheppard. But something isn't right, and their resolve is about to be tested by an unimaginable danger.
Pairings: Elizabeth/John, Janet/Ronon
Main characters: Elizabeth, John, Janet, Ronon, Cameron Mitchell, Stephen Caldwell
Rating: R for sexual situations
Warnings: none
Beta: melyanna
Disclaimer: All the Stargates are owned by people who are not me. No copyright infringement intended.
Chronology: Set immediately after Quintessential. As in, this begins on the night that story ends.
Feedback: Is like peanut butter and chocolate together!
Author's Notes: After reading irony_rocks' story "Quintessential" I found myself imagining Elizabeth's reaction to John proposing, and Ronon's reaction to the news of the engagement. It seemed to me that Elizabeth wouldn't really believe John's change of heart until there had been some sort of test, and this snowballed into a behemoth of a fic.
Prologue
Years ago, on the night that Simon had proposed to her, Elizabeth had lain awake for a long while, her mind speeding happily over what she then thought would be her future.
This, the night of her second - and hopefully last, she thought wryly - betrothal, she lay awake again. Only this time, her mind was not full of happy imaginings.
She should be happy. She had been wishing and waiting for this moment for so long now, but a hint of fear poisoned the rest of her joy. She didn't doubt John's sincerity on wanting to marry her. He had, after all, promised as much last year without saying the actual words. She even believed he believed himself to be decided at the moment. But she had too much experience with John's nature to feel certain that he would truly stay in Atlantis.
There was nothing for it, Elizabeth knew, but to wait and see.
In the meantime, she wanted to sleep but tossed restlessly, until she heard a tell-tale noise that told her she wasn't the only one awake.
She pulled on her slippers and dressing gown and went down the hall. John was tucked away in what had been Laura's room while he finished recuperating from a gunshot to the stomach that had nearly killed him. Elizabeth could hear the rustle of the sheets within before she even opened the door.
Moonlight came in the window, bright enough that she could see the furrows lining John's face as he shifted in the bed. He was dreaming again.
John refused to tell her the details, but after he'd nearly died, he'd lapsed into a coma. She knew from various bits of information he'd dropped unintentionally that he'd had some kind of particularly vivid dream while he was unconscious. She'd been taken from him, or lost in some way. He spoke in his sleep of other things, things that made no sense to her, but at the heart of it was a grief and longing that always emerged the same way, just as it did now.
"Elizabeth," John whispered, lost in the nightmares. His voice was broken and desperate and she crossed the room and sat on the bed without thinking.
"Shhh." She took his hand gently. "I'm here, John."
His fingers tightened around hers and his eyes snapped open.
She'd spent enough time nursing him to know that he wasn't truly awake. But that didn't mean he was insensible to his surroundings either.
"Lizabeth?" he croaked out, his free hand reaching for her, as he had done nearly every time he'd woken up to find her at his bedside.
"Yes. It's all right. I'm here."
Unexpectedly, he grabbed her, pulling her onto the bed and into an embrace so close she could barely breathe. She just caught herself from falling onto him in a way that could have hurt him.
John's breath was hot against her neck and his body trembled slightly. She managed to get an arm around his shoulder, her hands soothing him gently. Her words and her touch seemed to calm him and he let out a contented sigh, nuzzling her hair before he stilled entirely.
She waited a few minutes while his breathing evened out, intending to go back to her own room once he was completely asleep. But the next thing she was aware of was a strong hand sliding up and down her back. She blinked in confusion for a moment before realizing she was still entangled with John in the spare room, lying alongside him in the narrow bed. Light was filtering in the window.
"Good morning," he said, looking slightly smug.
Her cheeks heated, both from his look and the way his hand was touching her back so familiarly. "Good morning."
She sat up, trying to tidy her hair before realizing that her dressing gown was gaping open in front. John's eyes trailed over her body and lingered where her skin was revealed. She couldn't hold back the thought of him touching her there, or of the hand on her back dipping lower than it currently was, and it dawned on her that in a few short weeks, if that long, she could be his wife and not have to wonder any more.
John continued to look at her, but his expression shifted away from the lascivious smirk she was used to and into something closer to awe. "What?" she asked, somewhat defensive from her own thoughts.
He sat up, wincing slightly as he did so, and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "I just remembered."
"Remembered what?"
"You said yes."
Then he smiled at her, with so much happiness on his face that something within her melted entirely. When he leaned in for a kiss, she didn't push him away.
*~*~*~*
*~*~*~*
Part 1
Something strange was going on.
Ronon had been patrolling through the foothills around Atlantis for several days, as he'd been doing ever since Sheppard woke up from the coma. They'd been seeing confusing signs in the weeks before their encounter with Kolya and his men - truthfully odd things had been going on since he and Sheppard had run across the Athosians the previous summer. He'd been distracted by the injury to his partner, but now? Things were still confusing.
Rumors flying of raiding parties and robberies of livestock and weapons. Men and women both being taken, rather than just the women. Multiple sets of tracks in the hills, overlapping but never merging.
Yet no confirmed sightings of the Wraith anywhere.
Unease sat in the pit of his stomach as he turned back for the town.
*~*~*~*
At the end of the first week after Carson released him to her care, John insisted on trying out a brief ride on his horse. Elizabeth argued with him but John insisted, and talked Rodney into going with him "as a babysitter."
When Rodney ushered him back to the mercantile, John's face was gray with fatigue and he was holding himself rigidly. Torn between anger and worry, Elizabeth hurried him upstairs and into bed, checking under the bandage herself. She finally let out a breath when there was no sign of new blood.
The fact that John merely lay there without a single comment while she examined him told her that he knew he was pushing himself too hard.
She fetched some stew for his supper, sitting by his bedside while he ate. Outwardly, he tried to keep up their usual banter, but his eyes were drooping even as he chewed. When he finished eating, Elizabeth tucked a blanket over him and left him snoring lightly, propped up on the pillows and still fully dressed save for the boots Rodney had helped her remove earlier.
Elizabeth wandered back to the café, thanking Laura for handling the store as she closed up for the evening. She didn't know what she would have done these last weeks without Laura to see to the store and Samantha Carter to help her with her duties to the Town Council. Sam was not in Atlantis right now as she was visiting her brother, and both Mayor Hammond and Jack O'Neill, the deputy mayor, were also away, so the council meetings were off her plate for the moment, at least.
As Elizabeth settled at a table by herself in the café, the thought struck her that she would soon have John to look after all the time in addition to all the other work in her life. Hopefully he wouldn't be quite so needful in the future, but then again, knowing him as she did, she doubted this would be the last time he would need a nurse.
And after they did marry, what if there were children? How would she manage running the store and everything else with an infant to look after?
"My, that's quite a dark look. Is Mr. Sheppard all right?" Janet settled herself across from Elizabeth.
"I'm sorry? Oh," Elizabeth stammered, abruptly recalling herself to the present. "Yes, he's fine now. He insisted on taking a ride this afternoon and came close to fainting for his trouble."
Janet got a mischievous look on her face that boded no good as far as Elizabeth was concerned. "What precisely was he riding that tired him out so?"
"Janet!" Elizabeth yelped, her cheeks flushing bright pink in spite of herself.
Her friend held up a placating hand, though she was laughing heavily. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I couldn't resist." They both settled back down to their food and Janet continued. "And you have to acknowledge that he's been far more attentive than usual. The two of you have seemed quite cozy together since he woke up."
"He nearly died," Elizabeth muttered. "Even with John's history of close calls..." Her lips folded together tightly.
Janet's expression shifted from teasing to sympathy and she patted Elizabeth's hand.
Before either of them could say anything else, they were accosted by Charlotte Wittings. A middle-aged woman who was married to the town's postal clerk and notary, she was an infamous busybody. Elizabeth had many good friends in Atlantis, but her independent ways had not ingratiated her with the matrons of the town even before she had "taken up company" with a notorious gunslinger.
"Miss Weir, Miss Fraiser, how are you this evening?" Mrs. Wittings puffed out a breath. She was a heavy-set woman and she had scuttled into the café in a rush. After Elizabeth and Janet gave their token replies, Mrs. Wittings bent down towards Elizabeth. "And how is your friend, Mr. Sheppard?"
Elizabeth grew wary. "He's recovering, thank you. But it's a slow process. He was very badly hurt."
Mrs. Wittings nodded, dripping false sympathy. "Of course, dear. Speaking of the young man, I feel it my duty to tell you, Miss Weir, there are some in town who question the propriety of you taking him in. I assure you, when such things are voiced in my hearing, I've taken your part right along. Anyone who knows you knows you'd never stand for any semblance of misbehavior from any man. But the appearances, my dear, you know, they're raising a few eyebrows. An unmarried woman with a strange man sleeping just down the hallway."
Evidently seeing Elizabeth was too livid to say anything, Janet spoke up harshly. "The strange man you're speaking of can barely sit up or lie down without help at the moment, Mrs. Wittings. The reason he's lodging with Miss Weir is that he needs someone nearby to tend to him and Doctor Beckett and myself are both too busy to do for him." Elizabeth could have smiled at the irony of Janet leaping to her defense when mere moments ago she'd been teasing Elizabeth about this very thing.
Mrs. Wittings drew back, her eyebrows raised innocently. "Well, of course, Miss Fraiser, that's just what I said. But you know how gossip tends to spread, and in this case, two people who are courting but don't have any understanding, sharing a house like this..."
Janet raised an eyebrow. "Would it be better, then, if they were officially engaged? Or wouldn't you still be clucking your tongues over the matter in any case?" she challenged, with a swift glance at Elizabeth. Janet's gaze caught, though, on Elizabeth's reaction before she could hide it.
Thankfully, their companion didn't notice that byplay. "Well!" Mrs. Wittings huffed. "I was merely trying to do my duty as a good neighbor and warn Miss Weir of what was being said so she could be prepared for the consequences." The lady collected herself and departed in high dudgeon.
The two women at the table barely noticed. Elizabeth was looking down at her plate, knowing that Janet's eyes were burning into her.
"Elizabeth?" She forced herself to look up. Janet's expression was speculative. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Elizabeth gulped down a breath. She loved Janet dearly, all the more for her instant and adamant defense a few moments ago. But Janet would want to spread the news far and wide, and John had asked her to keep the engagement a secret until he could tell Ronon himself. In truth, Elizabeth wasn't ready for everyone to know just yet either.
"Before I say anything, I must have your word that you won’t speak of this to another soul until I say so," she murmured.
Janet looked somewhat confused, but she nodded. "Of course."
Elizabeth took a deep breath.
*~*~*~*
Ronon returned to Atlantis after a few weeks of scouting through the hills. He'd seen signs of Wraith activity, but nothing conclusive. What he had seen left him uneasy. They were up to something.
When he got back into town, he learned that Sheppard had moved from the doctor's care to Miss Weir's not long after he had left. That didn't surprise him much. Miss Weir was a strong lady, but Ronon had seen exactly what waiting for Sheppard to wake up had done to her. He doubted she'd let him out of her sight for a while.
If Sheppard even wanted to go. Ronon had his doubts about that too.
Ronon went to stay with McKay and Zelenka when he got back into Atlantis. His usual bunk was at Doc Beckett's but since the doctor had married, Ronon and Sheppard had both agreed they should stay somewhere where they weren't likely to stumble half-dressed into the kitchen and find a young lady there. McKay talked too much, and Zelenka seemed intimidated by Ronon, but the bed was clean and there was water to wash.
When he dropped by the mercantile in the evening, Miss Weir suggested he and Sheppard take a walk. Sheppard rolled his eyes. Once they were out of earshot, he sighed. "I think Beckett told her not to leave me alone for more than a few minutes for fear I'd do something stupid."
Ronon decided to keep quiet on that score. The man was recovering from a belly wound, so he'd be nice.
They hiked over the low hills rising between Atlantis and the river. Sheppard was moving slowly still, but Ronon got the sense that something else was changed. With another man he would've put it down to the aftereffects of such a close brush with dying, but he and Sheppard had been through too much for too long.
They reached a small rise and Sheppard paused, glancing over at the town.
Ronon waited.
"I asked Miss Weir to marry me." Sheppard's eyes darted to Ronon's face.
That didn't surprise him either. At least not much.
He raised his eyebrows. "And she didn't say no?" he asked with disbelief. He held the expression while Sheppard puffed up with indignity for a split second before catching on. Then he chuckled. "Congratulations."
Sheppard nodded, looking at his boots, then back at Ronon, staring intently for a second. He looked almost expectant.
"I get it, John," Ronon said softly.
The other man shook his head, looking over at the town. "I'm not sure I get it myself. I just..." He waved a hand. "This place? There's something here that's worth fighting for. Even if I could single-handedly get rid of the Wraith, there'd be something else." Sheppard shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can't fix everything in the universe, but I can make sure that this place is still standing."
John Sheppard had a need to help people, and it was really no wonder that Atlantis had gotten so under his skin. Ronon could understand that. He wasn't immune to the charms of the town, especially the charms of a particularly feisty midwife who somehow managed to overpower him and everyone else despite barely coming to his shoulder. But Ronon wasn't the kind of man who could settle someplace. He knew it and so did Miss Fraiser, even if there'd been plenty of times he wished things were different, for Janet's sake and his. But he couldn't change who he was and what he had sworn to do to the Wraith. He couldn't help the slight feeling of being abandoned by his old friend now.
Aloud he only said, "And here I thought it was you lusting after that pretty store owner with the green eyes and the nice-"
"Hey!" Sheppard interrupted. "That's my future wife you're talking about." The corner of his mouth twitched up.
Ronon held up his hands, grinning.
They started to walk back. "You'll stand up with me, right?"
"Count on it."
"Good." Sheppard had one other thing to say. "Ronon? Make sure I don't do anything stupid."
"Bit late for that, isn't it?"
That earned him a small shove.
*~*~*~*
Though John was recovering remarkably well, it was taking a long time for his body to regain its strength, and Carson had fretted quietly to Elizabeth that John might never truly get over the experience. Certain simple tasks had caused him enormous frustration, which she learned first-hand not long after Ronon had come back to Atlantis.
He had somehow badgered Ronon and Rodney into helping him haul enough water up into her kitchen to use for a bath. Now that the weather was warmer, it wasn't quite such a painful process to wash without spending hours heating the water enough to avoid catching pneumonia. Of all the things Elizabeth envied about Sam Carter, the private room in the Carter house with the enormous bathtub and the indoor water pump were at the top of the list.
Elizabeth was trying to stay discreetly in her room while John was using the kitchen, but she heard sounds that she was sure were profane words he was trying to muffle out of respect for her. When she stepped into the hallway, there was a tell-tale hiss of pain that propelled her to the doorway into the kitchen, only to stop dead at the sight before her.
It could have been worse. John's lower half was covered still by his underclothes. He was holding onto his side, near where the bandages were still covering his wound. "John?"
He started to turn and then froze as he pulled at the injury all over again.
Exasperated, she stepped into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"
"I was trying to clean myself up a bit," he retorted, still wincing. "I just..." He trailed off, looking down at her and the tub of water on the table. He sighed. "I can't reach my back."
A devilish impulse took over and she raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Well."
There was a long silence. She did her best to appear completely expressionless while John's scowl grew more pronounced. Finally he snapped, "Are you going to help me or not?"
Elizabeth chuckled. "Not the most polite request, but I guess it will have to do."
John sighed with the patience of a martyr and Elizabeth picked up the washcloth, wrung it out and pushed his shoulder. "Turn around."
She wiped the cloth over his back, her eyes following the thin trails of scars across his skin. With one hand, she rubbed the soap into a thin lather. She could feel his muscles relaxing as she worked and John let out a contented sigh when she washed the soap away with the cloth.
Not thinking, she touched the scar across his shoulder blades. She remembered all too clearly the day that John and Ronon had stumbled into Atlantis after being attacked by the Wraith. They'd both been beaten and John had been whipped into a bloody mess before they got away. She had helped tend to his injuries, and she'd seen these scars at other times since then, but this felt different. Years of memories raced through her mind, of John, of a half-dozen other near misses and narrow escapes. There was a limit to what a body could take in a single lifetime, and John had plenty of other scars besides these. Perhaps he really had reached his breaking point.
John turned around and she abruptly realized his thoughts were traveling a very different path from hers. He leaned in and kissed her heatedly, arms wrapping around her waist and holding her tightly. She grabbed his shoulders out of reflex, aware now of the smells of the soap and his skin permeating the air around them.
As his mouth moved against hers in a slow, sensuous rhythm, Elizabeth realized John was pushing her back against the kitchen table. They landed hard enough to jostle the tub of water. She pulled her head away but her words died on her lips when John's fingers deliberately undid the top button of her blouse.
Another button and another, and she couldn't seem to move. She could barely breathe with the way he was looking at her as he tugged her blouse free of her skirt and finished opening it. When he dipped his head and his lips ghosted against her collarbone before moving lower, following the curve of her breast, she knew she needed to speak, to pull away. Instead her fingers stroked through his hair, holding him close.
John let out a tiny sound, the one he always made when she touched him like that. His mouth covered the hard tip of her breast through her underclothes and even through the cloth, the warm, wet pressure made her knees go weak. She leaned more heavily into the kitchen table as he moved to the other side. His hands slid up her body, pushing her shirt off her shoulders before stroking her bare arms lightly enough to give her goose bumps.
His lips explored her skin and against her thigh she could feel his reaction rather prominently. It occurred to her that John was not the only one who had been changed by the last few weeks. This kind of passionate embrace previously would have left her feeling confused or alarmed as well as aroused. Now her only thought was to arch her body into his. Her legs parted slightly, allowing him to slip a tiny bit closer, and Elizabeth realized she didn't want to stop him. Regardless of propriety or what should or shouldn't be happening between them, she wanted this. She wanted John to touch her, wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her skin. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to wake up as she had that morning after he proposed, entangled with John and basking in that feeling of safety and comfort.
Her hands slid down the length of his bare back as she kissed him this time, eager and exploring and drawing a groan from him. She could imagine touching him, imagine him coaxing her body into arousal and completion.
He wouldn't be able to leave her after that.
The thought froze her mind and her limbs like a cold burst of water.
"Lizabeth?" John panted, drawing back enough to look at her.
She couldn't meet his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed with shame. Dear God in heaven, who was she becoming? She loved John, she wanted him to stay, but she did not play games of that sort. She'd always been repulsed by women who teased out these elaborate schemes to "land" a husband. It was contemptible behavior, and she never wanted to trick a man into wanting her.
"Elizabeth." John's voice had hardened and he cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him. "What's wrong?"
He wouldn't let go, even when she squirmed in his arms. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment that she hoped he would take for modesty.
He didn't. As well as she knew this man, he knew her. "Tell me. What is it?"
"I-" she stammered uneasily. "This is..." She sighed, closing her eyes and not fighting against his hold any more. "This isn't right," she said quietly. He prayed he wouldn't ask for a reason.
John tugged her closer, letting out an explosive sigh of his own as he kissed her forehead. "I know. But it will be. Soon."
She couldn't marry him, Elizabeth realized. Not until she had settled the doubts in her heart. She couldn't begin a life with John Sheppard while still expecting him to leave it.
She managed to smile for him as he pressed a light kiss to her lips before setting her away from him. She turned around to discover that half of her blouse had fallen into the bathwater.
John's eyes widened when she held up the dripping garment with a glare. "Um, I'm sorry?"
She twitched her hand and slapped him with a soaking wet sleeve. "Next time you can get Rodney to help you bathe as well as bring water."
*~*~*~*
Years of working as a midwife had taught Janet Fraiser a number of things. One of the more immutable laws of nature, while probably not written in any fancy medical text, was that spring and fall were the busiest times of the year for a midwife.
This spring was no exception, and after that big storm they had over the winter, she shuddered to think what the fall was going to be like. It didn't help that the multiple Wraith attacks the previous summer had driven away many of those that could afford to leave the territory. She and Carson were about the only ones with any medical training left in the general area.
She had to smile. When Carson had first arrived in Atlantis a number of years ago, he'd had almost no experience with delivering babies. He'd been part of a caravan and was tending on a man who'd been badly cut with an axe. Like a lot of others, he never quite managed to leave the town. Watching the burly doctor when he had to assist at a birth first-hand had been quite hilarious at the time, though privately Janet would admit there'd been a fair number of cases where she was glad to have his aid.
Janet dragged herself along the street through Atlantis wearily. The sun was on the far side of the sky, late afternoon. It had been early morning when she'd been called to Mrs. Bradshaw's bedside, but that had been... yesterday morning? Heaven help her, she wasn't even sure what day it was. She was going to go home and get some sleep, even if the earth opened up right before her and swallowed the town.
That, of course, was the moment when the staccato echo of hoof beats reached her ears. Janet drew herself back and away from the street, watching as a mud-covered rider drew up outside the sheriff's office. Caldwell came out, hand on his holstered gun. After a moment, he turned and fixed Janet with a look.
The two men approached her, and from the other side came, surprisingly, Ronon Dex. The enormous gunslinger had been in Atlantis after his partner had been dangerously wounded. Lately he'd taken to doing short patrols from the town into the foothills, but he was usually back in one or two weeks, rather than disappearing for months at a time.
In the back of her mind, Janet had been wondering about this behavior. It had made sense while John Sheppard was still recovering, but a few weeks had gone by now and John seemed to be making good progress, at least as far as his health was concerned. But neither John nor Elizabeth had said anything in public about the engagement, and Janet had been too busy to press Elizabeth as to why. She had a sneaking suspicion that something was bothering Elizabeth about the proposal, but the night Elizabeth had confided in her, she was still rather upset about John's injuries. Janet hadn't wanted to pry too hard, and the weeks since had been so hectic.
In truth, Janet had needed a little time to get accustomed to the reality herself. It was silly, of course. Anyone who had seen John and Elizabeth together in the last few years knew that unless fate made a tragic intervention, they would end up married. It had been a foregone conclusion for a long while. Which didn't explain the queer little sadness Janet felt. Elizabeth was one of her best friends, and of course Janet was happy that they wouldn't have to wait any longer.
But that hadn't stopped the hint of loneliness, of melancholy, that had struck her when Elizabeth told her the news.
Janet had pushed the emotion away, certain Elizabeth hadn't seen it. It was petty and selfish and she wasn't going to allow herself to think such things.
But it made her wonder about Ronon, John's closest friend and partner. Janet knew that Ronon knew by now about the engagement. If John was settling here, did Ronon intend to stay in Atlantis permanently as well? It didn't seem likely, from what she understood of his character. But she didn't feel it her right to ask Ronon about his plans.
And she was a little afraid of any answer she would get.
"Miss Fraiser," Caldwell nodded. "Seems there's a lady up in the mining settlement in need of your help."
The Sheriff looked grim, but the young rider looked as tired as she felt. "Yes, ma'am. Carlotta, she's, uh, a cook up in the camp. She's in the family way and been having pains for a while now, off and on like. Some of the other gals are tending on her but..."
Janet shared a look with Caldwell. If this young woman had been married to one of the miners, the boy would've given her last name. Which meant she was a whore, one of the prostitutes who followed mining and railroad camps to make a living.
The respectable ladies of Atlantis had waged a number of bitter wars to keep whoring from being added to the repertoire of Kavanagh's saloon or existing anywhere within the town limits. Janet knew how her friends felt about women who sold themselves. Even Elizabeth, with her Eastern educated open-mindedness, tended to look askance on prostitutes themselves, not apparently wanting to dwell on the kind of circumstances that could propel a girl to such ends.
But Janet never stopped to ask how a baby got made. Her business was getting them safely into this world.
Years of experience forced the questions out, even as she yawned hugely. "Can she feel the baby moving?"
"I think so, ma'am."
Janet nodded. "I'll have to pack up a bag and some supplies-" She yawned again and was summarily interrupted.
"You're not going up there until morning," Caldwell stated. Janet opened her mouth to protest Stephen's presumption, but he held up a hand. "Miss Fraiser, with all due respect, you're exhausted. I know you haven't had a moment to rest for well over a week. You can't make that trip in this condition."
"She shouldn't go at all," Ronon growled to Caldwell. "There are signs of Wraith activity all over the hills."
The boy looked startled at the word "Wraith" but Janet hardly noticed. She rounded on Ronon, hands on her hips and doing her best to glare through her tiredness.
"I'll keep my own counsel, Mr. Dex, about where I go and when." She turned back to the others. "I do need to get some sleep and we'd hardly get far tonight given the time. I'll set off first thing in the morning."
She turned on her heel and marched homewards, stopping just long enough to tell Elizabeth and Carson where she was headed. She packed up some supplies and fell into bed for a blissful few hours of heavy sleep.
The sun wasn't yet up when she gathered her things and went to saddle her horse. To her surprise, her horse was already saddled and ready. Next to it, sitting astride his own horse, was Ronon.
She gaped, unable to speak for a long moment. He just stared back, a hint of a smirk hidden underneath the beard. She huffed out a breath and gave in with bad grace.
*~*~*~*
Part 2
Title: The Siege
Author: miera
Summary: After years of courtship and separation, Elizabeth Weir is finally engaged to John Sheppard. But something isn't right, and their resolve is about to be tested by an unimaginable danger.
Pairings: Elizabeth/John, Janet/Ronon
Main characters: Elizabeth, John, Janet, Ronon, Cameron Mitchell, Stephen Caldwell
Rating: R for sexual situations
Warnings: none
Beta: melyanna
Disclaimer: All the Stargates are owned by people who are not me. No copyright infringement intended.
Chronology: Set immediately after Quintessential. As in, this begins on the night that story ends.
Feedback: Is like peanut butter and chocolate together!
Author's Notes: After reading irony_rocks' story "Quintessential" I found myself imagining Elizabeth's reaction to John proposing, and Ronon's reaction to the news of the engagement. It seemed to me that Elizabeth wouldn't really believe John's change of heart until there had been some sort of test, and this snowballed into a behemoth of a fic.
Prologue
Years ago, on the night that Simon had proposed to her, Elizabeth had lain awake for a long while, her mind speeding happily over what she then thought would be her future.
This, the night of her second - and hopefully last, she thought wryly - betrothal, she lay awake again. Only this time, her mind was not full of happy imaginings.
She should be happy. She had been wishing and waiting for this moment for so long now, but a hint of fear poisoned the rest of her joy. She didn't doubt John's sincerity on wanting to marry her. He had, after all, promised as much last year without saying the actual words. She even believed he believed himself to be decided at the moment. But she had too much experience with John's nature to feel certain that he would truly stay in Atlantis.
There was nothing for it, Elizabeth knew, but to wait and see.
In the meantime, she wanted to sleep but tossed restlessly, until she heard a tell-tale noise that told her she wasn't the only one awake.
She pulled on her slippers and dressing gown and went down the hall. John was tucked away in what had been Laura's room while he finished recuperating from a gunshot to the stomach that had nearly killed him. Elizabeth could hear the rustle of the sheets within before she even opened the door.
Moonlight came in the window, bright enough that she could see the furrows lining John's face as he shifted in the bed. He was dreaming again.
John refused to tell her the details, but after he'd nearly died, he'd lapsed into a coma. She knew from various bits of information he'd dropped unintentionally that he'd had some kind of particularly vivid dream while he was unconscious. She'd been taken from him, or lost in some way. He spoke in his sleep of other things, things that made no sense to her, but at the heart of it was a grief and longing that always emerged the same way, just as it did now.
"Elizabeth," John whispered, lost in the nightmares. His voice was broken and desperate and she crossed the room and sat on the bed without thinking.
"Shhh." She took his hand gently. "I'm here, John."
His fingers tightened around hers and his eyes snapped open.
She'd spent enough time nursing him to know that he wasn't truly awake. But that didn't mean he was insensible to his surroundings either.
"Lizabeth?" he croaked out, his free hand reaching for her, as he had done nearly every time he'd woken up to find her at his bedside.
"Yes. It's all right. I'm here."
Unexpectedly, he grabbed her, pulling her onto the bed and into an embrace so close she could barely breathe. She just caught herself from falling onto him in a way that could have hurt him.
John's breath was hot against her neck and his body trembled slightly. She managed to get an arm around his shoulder, her hands soothing him gently. Her words and her touch seemed to calm him and he let out a contented sigh, nuzzling her hair before he stilled entirely.
She waited a few minutes while his breathing evened out, intending to go back to her own room once he was completely asleep. But the next thing she was aware of was a strong hand sliding up and down her back. She blinked in confusion for a moment before realizing she was still entangled with John in the spare room, lying alongside him in the narrow bed. Light was filtering in the window.
"Good morning," he said, looking slightly smug.
Her cheeks heated, both from his look and the way his hand was touching her back so familiarly. "Good morning."
She sat up, trying to tidy her hair before realizing that her dressing gown was gaping open in front. John's eyes trailed over her body and lingered where her skin was revealed. She couldn't hold back the thought of him touching her there, or of the hand on her back dipping lower than it currently was, and it dawned on her that in a few short weeks, if that long, she could be his wife and not have to wonder any more.
John continued to look at her, but his expression shifted away from the lascivious smirk she was used to and into something closer to awe. "What?" she asked, somewhat defensive from her own thoughts.
He sat up, wincing slightly as he did so, and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "I just remembered."
"Remembered what?"
"You said yes."
Then he smiled at her, with so much happiness on his face that something within her melted entirely. When he leaned in for a kiss, she didn't push him away.
*~*~*~*
*~*~*~*
Part 1
Something strange was going on.
Ronon had been patrolling through the foothills around Atlantis for several days, as he'd been doing ever since Sheppard woke up from the coma. They'd been seeing confusing signs in the weeks before their encounter with Kolya and his men - truthfully odd things had been going on since he and Sheppard had run across the Athosians the previous summer. He'd been distracted by the injury to his partner, but now? Things were still confusing.
Rumors flying of raiding parties and robberies of livestock and weapons. Men and women both being taken, rather than just the women. Multiple sets of tracks in the hills, overlapping but never merging.
Yet no confirmed sightings of the Wraith anywhere.
Unease sat in the pit of his stomach as he turned back for the town.
*~*~*~*
At the end of the first week after Carson released him to her care, John insisted on trying out a brief ride on his horse. Elizabeth argued with him but John insisted, and talked Rodney into going with him "as a babysitter."
When Rodney ushered him back to the mercantile, John's face was gray with fatigue and he was holding himself rigidly. Torn between anger and worry, Elizabeth hurried him upstairs and into bed, checking under the bandage herself. She finally let out a breath when there was no sign of new blood.
The fact that John merely lay there without a single comment while she examined him told her that he knew he was pushing himself too hard.
She fetched some stew for his supper, sitting by his bedside while he ate. Outwardly, he tried to keep up their usual banter, but his eyes were drooping even as he chewed. When he finished eating, Elizabeth tucked a blanket over him and left him snoring lightly, propped up on the pillows and still fully dressed save for the boots Rodney had helped her remove earlier.
Elizabeth wandered back to the café, thanking Laura for handling the store as she closed up for the evening. She didn't know what she would have done these last weeks without Laura to see to the store and Samantha Carter to help her with her duties to the Town Council. Sam was not in Atlantis right now as she was visiting her brother, and both Mayor Hammond and Jack O'Neill, the deputy mayor, were also away, so the council meetings were off her plate for the moment, at least.
As Elizabeth settled at a table by herself in the café, the thought struck her that she would soon have John to look after all the time in addition to all the other work in her life. Hopefully he wouldn't be quite so needful in the future, but then again, knowing him as she did, she doubted this would be the last time he would need a nurse.
And after they did marry, what if there were children? How would she manage running the store and everything else with an infant to look after?
"My, that's quite a dark look. Is Mr. Sheppard all right?" Janet settled herself across from Elizabeth.
"I'm sorry? Oh," Elizabeth stammered, abruptly recalling herself to the present. "Yes, he's fine now. He insisted on taking a ride this afternoon and came close to fainting for his trouble."
Janet got a mischievous look on her face that boded no good as far as Elizabeth was concerned. "What precisely was he riding that tired him out so?"
"Janet!" Elizabeth yelped, her cheeks flushing bright pink in spite of herself.
Her friend held up a placating hand, though she was laughing heavily. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth, I couldn't resist." They both settled back down to their food and Janet continued. "And you have to acknowledge that he's been far more attentive than usual. The two of you have seemed quite cozy together since he woke up."
"He nearly died," Elizabeth muttered. "Even with John's history of close calls..." Her lips folded together tightly.
Janet's expression shifted from teasing to sympathy and she patted Elizabeth's hand.
Before either of them could say anything else, they were accosted by Charlotte Wittings. A middle-aged woman who was married to the town's postal clerk and notary, she was an infamous busybody. Elizabeth had many good friends in Atlantis, but her independent ways had not ingratiated her with the matrons of the town even before she had "taken up company" with a notorious gunslinger.
"Miss Weir, Miss Fraiser, how are you this evening?" Mrs. Wittings puffed out a breath. She was a heavy-set woman and she had scuttled into the café in a rush. After Elizabeth and Janet gave their token replies, Mrs. Wittings bent down towards Elizabeth. "And how is your friend, Mr. Sheppard?"
Elizabeth grew wary. "He's recovering, thank you. But it's a slow process. He was very badly hurt."
Mrs. Wittings nodded, dripping false sympathy. "Of course, dear. Speaking of the young man, I feel it my duty to tell you, Miss Weir, there are some in town who question the propriety of you taking him in. I assure you, when such things are voiced in my hearing, I've taken your part right along. Anyone who knows you knows you'd never stand for any semblance of misbehavior from any man. But the appearances, my dear, you know, they're raising a few eyebrows. An unmarried woman with a strange man sleeping just down the hallway."
Evidently seeing Elizabeth was too livid to say anything, Janet spoke up harshly. "The strange man you're speaking of can barely sit up or lie down without help at the moment, Mrs. Wittings. The reason he's lodging with Miss Weir is that he needs someone nearby to tend to him and Doctor Beckett and myself are both too busy to do for him." Elizabeth could have smiled at the irony of Janet leaping to her defense when mere moments ago she'd been teasing Elizabeth about this very thing.
Mrs. Wittings drew back, her eyebrows raised innocently. "Well, of course, Miss Fraiser, that's just what I said. But you know how gossip tends to spread, and in this case, two people who are courting but don't have any understanding, sharing a house like this..."
Janet raised an eyebrow. "Would it be better, then, if they were officially engaged? Or wouldn't you still be clucking your tongues over the matter in any case?" she challenged, with a swift glance at Elizabeth. Janet's gaze caught, though, on Elizabeth's reaction before she could hide it.
Thankfully, their companion didn't notice that byplay. "Well!" Mrs. Wittings huffed. "I was merely trying to do my duty as a good neighbor and warn Miss Weir of what was being said so she could be prepared for the consequences." The lady collected herself and departed in high dudgeon.
The two women at the table barely noticed. Elizabeth was looking down at her plate, knowing that Janet's eyes were burning into her.
"Elizabeth?" She forced herself to look up. Janet's expression was speculative. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Elizabeth gulped down a breath. She loved Janet dearly, all the more for her instant and adamant defense a few moments ago. But Janet would want to spread the news far and wide, and John had asked her to keep the engagement a secret until he could tell Ronon himself. In truth, Elizabeth wasn't ready for everyone to know just yet either.
"Before I say anything, I must have your word that you won’t speak of this to another soul until I say so," she murmured.
Janet looked somewhat confused, but she nodded. "Of course."
Elizabeth took a deep breath.
*~*~*~*
Ronon returned to Atlantis after a few weeks of scouting through the hills. He'd seen signs of Wraith activity, but nothing conclusive. What he had seen left him uneasy. They were up to something.
When he got back into town, he learned that Sheppard had moved from the doctor's care to Miss Weir's not long after he had left. That didn't surprise him much. Miss Weir was a strong lady, but Ronon had seen exactly what waiting for Sheppard to wake up had done to her. He doubted she'd let him out of her sight for a while.
If Sheppard even wanted to go. Ronon had his doubts about that too.
Ronon went to stay with McKay and Zelenka when he got back into Atlantis. His usual bunk was at Doc Beckett's but since the doctor had married, Ronon and Sheppard had both agreed they should stay somewhere where they weren't likely to stumble half-dressed into the kitchen and find a young lady there. McKay talked too much, and Zelenka seemed intimidated by Ronon, but the bed was clean and there was water to wash.
When he dropped by the mercantile in the evening, Miss Weir suggested he and Sheppard take a walk. Sheppard rolled his eyes. Once they were out of earshot, he sighed. "I think Beckett told her not to leave me alone for more than a few minutes for fear I'd do something stupid."
Ronon decided to keep quiet on that score. The man was recovering from a belly wound, so he'd be nice.
They hiked over the low hills rising between Atlantis and the river. Sheppard was moving slowly still, but Ronon got the sense that something else was changed. With another man he would've put it down to the aftereffects of such a close brush with dying, but he and Sheppard had been through too much for too long.
They reached a small rise and Sheppard paused, glancing over at the town.
Ronon waited.
"I asked Miss Weir to marry me." Sheppard's eyes darted to Ronon's face.
That didn't surprise him either. At least not much.
He raised his eyebrows. "And she didn't say no?" he asked with disbelief. He held the expression while Sheppard puffed up with indignity for a split second before catching on. Then he chuckled. "Congratulations."
Sheppard nodded, looking at his boots, then back at Ronon, staring intently for a second. He looked almost expectant.
"I get it, John," Ronon said softly.
The other man shook his head, looking over at the town. "I'm not sure I get it myself. I just..." He waved a hand. "This place? There's something here that's worth fighting for. Even if I could single-handedly get rid of the Wraith, there'd be something else." Sheppard shoved his hands into his pockets. "Can't fix everything in the universe, but I can make sure that this place is still standing."
John Sheppard had a need to help people, and it was really no wonder that Atlantis had gotten so under his skin. Ronon could understand that. He wasn't immune to the charms of the town, especially the charms of a particularly feisty midwife who somehow managed to overpower him and everyone else despite barely coming to his shoulder. But Ronon wasn't the kind of man who could settle someplace. He knew it and so did Miss Fraiser, even if there'd been plenty of times he wished things were different, for Janet's sake and his. But he couldn't change who he was and what he had sworn to do to the Wraith. He couldn't help the slight feeling of being abandoned by his old friend now.
Aloud he only said, "And here I thought it was you lusting after that pretty store owner with the green eyes and the nice-"
"Hey!" Sheppard interrupted. "That's my future wife you're talking about." The corner of his mouth twitched up.
Ronon held up his hands, grinning.
They started to walk back. "You'll stand up with me, right?"
"Count on it."
"Good." Sheppard had one other thing to say. "Ronon? Make sure I don't do anything stupid."
"Bit late for that, isn't it?"
That earned him a small shove.
*~*~*~*
Though John was recovering remarkably well, it was taking a long time for his body to regain its strength, and Carson had fretted quietly to Elizabeth that John might never truly get over the experience. Certain simple tasks had caused him enormous frustration, which she learned first-hand not long after Ronon had come back to Atlantis.
He had somehow badgered Ronon and Rodney into helping him haul enough water up into her kitchen to use for a bath. Now that the weather was warmer, it wasn't quite such a painful process to wash without spending hours heating the water enough to avoid catching pneumonia. Of all the things Elizabeth envied about Sam Carter, the private room in the Carter house with the enormous bathtub and the indoor water pump were at the top of the list.
Elizabeth was trying to stay discreetly in her room while John was using the kitchen, but she heard sounds that she was sure were profane words he was trying to muffle out of respect for her. When she stepped into the hallway, there was a tell-tale hiss of pain that propelled her to the doorway into the kitchen, only to stop dead at the sight before her.
It could have been worse. John's lower half was covered still by his underclothes. He was holding onto his side, near where the bandages were still covering his wound. "John?"
He started to turn and then froze as he pulled at the injury all over again.
Exasperated, she stepped into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"
"I was trying to clean myself up a bit," he retorted, still wincing. "I just..." He trailed off, looking down at her and the tub of water on the table. He sighed. "I can't reach my back."
A devilish impulse took over and she raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Well."
There was a long silence. She did her best to appear completely expressionless while John's scowl grew more pronounced. Finally he snapped, "Are you going to help me or not?"
Elizabeth chuckled. "Not the most polite request, but I guess it will have to do."
John sighed with the patience of a martyr and Elizabeth picked up the washcloth, wrung it out and pushed his shoulder. "Turn around."
She wiped the cloth over his back, her eyes following the thin trails of scars across his skin. With one hand, she rubbed the soap into a thin lather. She could feel his muscles relaxing as she worked and John let out a contented sigh when she washed the soap away with the cloth.
Not thinking, she touched the scar across his shoulder blades. She remembered all too clearly the day that John and Ronon had stumbled into Atlantis after being attacked by the Wraith. They'd both been beaten and John had been whipped into a bloody mess before they got away. She had helped tend to his injuries, and she'd seen these scars at other times since then, but this felt different. Years of memories raced through her mind, of John, of a half-dozen other near misses and narrow escapes. There was a limit to what a body could take in a single lifetime, and John had plenty of other scars besides these. Perhaps he really had reached his breaking point.
John turned around and she abruptly realized his thoughts were traveling a very different path from hers. He leaned in and kissed her heatedly, arms wrapping around her waist and holding her tightly. She grabbed his shoulders out of reflex, aware now of the smells of the soap and his skin permeating the air around them.
As his mouth moved against hers in a slow, sensuous rhythm, Elizabeth realized John was pushing her back against the kitchen table. They landed hard enough to jostle the tub of water. She pulled her head away but her words died on her lips when John's fingers deliberately undid the top button of her blouse.
Another button and another, and she couldn't seem to move. She could barely breathe with the way he was looking at her as he tugged her blouse free of her skirt and finished opening it. When he dipped his head and his lips ghosted against her collarbone before moving lower, following the curve of her breast, she knew she needed to speak, to pull away. Instead her fingers stroked through his hair, holding him close.
John let out a tiny sound, the one he always made when she touched him like that. His mouth covered the hard tip of her breast through her underclothes and even through the cloth, the warm, wet pressure made her knees go weak. She leaned more heavily into the kitchen table as he moved to the other side. His hands slid up her body, pushing her shirt off her shoulders before stroking her bare arms lightly enough to give her goose bumps.
His lips explored her skin and against her thigh she could feel his reaction rather prominently. It occurred to her that John was not the only one who had been changed by the last few weeks. This kind of passionate embrace previously would have left her feeling confused or alarmed as well as aroused. Now her only thought was to arch her body into his. Her legs parted slightly, allowing him to slip a tiny bit closer, and Elizabeth realized she didn't want to stop him. Regardless of propriety or what should or shouldn't be happening between them, she wanted this. She wanted John to touch her, wanted to feel his hands everywhere on her skin. She wanted him in her bed. She wanted to wake up as she had that morning after he proposed, entangled with John and basking in that feeling of safety and comfort.
Her hands slid down the length of his bare back as she kissed him this time, eager and exploring and drawing a groan from him. She could imagine touching him, imagine him coaxing her body into arousal and completion.
He wouldn't be able to leave her after that.
The thought froze her mind and her limbs like a cold burst of water.
"Lizabeth?" John panted, drawing back enough to look at her.
She couldn't meet his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed with shame. Dear God in heaven, who was she becoming? She loved John, she wanted him to stay, but she did not play games of that sort. She'd always been repulsed by women who teased out these elaborate schemes to "land" a husband. It was contemptible behavior, and she never wanted to trick a man into wanting her.
"Elizabeth." John's voice had hardened and he cupped her cheek and forced her to look at him. "What's wrong?"
He wouldn't let go, even when she squirmed in his arms. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment that she hoped he would take for modesty.
He didn't. As well as she knew this man, he knew her. "Tell me. What is it?"
"I-" she stammered uneasily. "This is..." She sighed, closing her eyes and not fighting against his hold any more. "This isn't right," she said quietly. He prayed he wouldn't ask for a reason.
John tugged her closer, letting out an explosive sigh of his own as he kissed her forehead. "I know. But it will be. Soon."
She couldn't marry him, Elizabeth realized. Not until she had settled the doubts in her heart. She couldn't begin a life with John Sheppard while still expecting him to leave it.
She managed to smile for him as he pressed a light kiss to her lips before setting her away from him. She turned around to discover that half of her blouse had fallen into the bathwater.
John's eyes widened when she held up the dripping garment with a glare. "Um, I'm sorry?"
She twitched her hand and slapped him with a soaking wet sleeve. "Next time you can get Rodney to help you bathe as well as bring water."
*~*~*~*
Years of working as a midwife had taught Janet Fraiser a number of things. One of the more immutable laws of nature, while probably not written in any fancy medical text, was that spring and fall were the busiest times of the year for a midwife.
This spring was no exception, and after that big storm they had over the winter, she shuddered to think what the fall was going to be like. It didn't help that the multiple Wraith attacks the previous summer had driven away many of those that could afford to leave the territory. She and Carson were about the only ones with any medical training left in the general area.
She had to smile. When Carson had first arrived in Atlantis a number of years ago, he'd had almost no experience with delivering babies. He'd been part of a caravan and was tending on a man who'd been badly cut with an axe. Like a lot of others, he never quite managed to leave the town. Watching the burly doctor when he had to assist at a birth first-hand had been quite hilarious at the time, though privately Janet would admit there'd been a fair number of cases where she was glad to have his aid.
Janet dragged herself along the street through Atlantis wearily. The sun was on the far side of the sky, late afternoon. It had been early morning when she'd been called to Mrs. Bradshaw's bedside, but that had been... yesterday morning? Heaven help her, she wasn't even sure what day it was. She was going to go home and get some sleep, even if the earth opened up right before her and swallowed the town.
That, of course, was the moment when the staccato echo of hoof beats reached her ears. Janet drew herself back and away from the street, watching as a mud-covered rider drew up outside the sheriff's office. Caldwell came out, hand on his holstered gun. After a moment, he turned and fixed Janet with a look.
The two men approached her, and from the other side came, surprisingly, Ronon Dex. The enormous gunslinger had been in Atlantis after his partner had been dangerously wounded. Lately he'd taken to doing short patrols from the town into the foothills, but he was usually back in one or two weeks, rather than disappearing for months at a time.
In the back of her mind, Janet had been wondering about this behavior. It had made sense while John Sheppard was still recovering, but a few weeks had gone by now and John seemed to be making good progress, at least as far as his health was concerned. But neither John nor Elizabeth had said anything in public about the engagement, and Janet had been too busy to press Elizabeth as to why. She had a sneaking suspicion that something was bothering Elizabeth about the proposal, but the night Elizabeth had confided in her, she was still rather upset about John's injuries. Janet hadn't wanted to pry too hard, and the weeks since had been so hectic.
In truth, Janet had needed a little time to get accustomed to the reality herself. It was silly, of course. Anyone who had seen John and Elizabeth together in the last few years knew that unless fate made a tragic intervention, they would end up married. It had been a foregone conclusion for a long while. Which didn't explain the queer little sadness Janet felt. Elizabeth was one of her best friends, and of course Janet was happy that they wouldn't have to wait any longer.
But that hadn't stopped the hint of loneliness, of melancholy, that had struck her when Elizabeth told her the news.
Janet had pushed the emotion away, certain Elizabeth hadn't seen it. It was petty and selfish and she wasn't going to allow herself to think such things.
But it made her wonder about Ronon, John's closest friend and partner. Janet knew that Ronon knew by now about the engagement. If John was settling here, did Ronon intend to stay in Atlantis permanently as well? It didn't seem likely, from what she understood of his character. But she didn't feel it her right to ask Ronon about his plans.
And she was a little afraid of any answer she would get.
"Miss Fraiser," Caldwell nodded. "Seems there's a lady up in the mining settlement in need of your help."
The Sheriff looked grim, but the young rider looked as tired as she felt. "Yes, ma'am. Carlotta, she's, uh, a cook up in the camp. She's in the family way and been having pains for a while now, off and on like. Some of the other gals are tending on her but..."
Janet shared a look with Caldwell. If this young woman had been married to one of the miners, the boy would've given her last name. Which meant she was a whore, one of the prostitutes who followed mining and railroad camps to make a living.
The respectable ladies of Atlantis had waged a number of bitter wars to keep whoring from being added to the repertoire of Kavanagh's saloon or existing anywhere within the town limits. Janet knew how her friends felt about women who sold themselves. Even Elizabeth, with her Eastern educated open-mindedness, tended to look askance on prostitutes themselves, not apparently wanting to dwell on the kind of circumstances that could propel a girl to such ends.
But Janet never stopped to ask how a baby got made. Her business was getting them safely into this world.
Years of experience forced the questions out, even as she yawned hugely. "Can she feel the baby moving?"
"I think so, ma'am."
Janet nodded. "I'll have to pack up a bag and some supplies-" She yawned again and was summarily interrupted.
"You're not going up there until morning," Caldwell stated. Janet opened her mouth to protest Stephen's presumption, but he held up a hand. "Miss Fraiser, with all due respect, you're exhausted. I know you haven't had a moment to rest for well over a week. You can't make that trip in this condition."
"She shouldn't go at all," Ronon growled to Caldwell. "There are signs of Wraith activity all over the hills."
The boy looked startled at the word "Wraith" but Janet hardly noticed. She rounded on Ronon, hands on her hips and doing her best to glare through her tiredness.
"I'll keep my own counsel, Mr. Dex, about where I go and when." She turned back to the others. "I do need to get some sleep and we'd hardly get far tonight given the time. I'll set off first thing in the morning."
She turned on her heel and marched homewards, stopping just long enough to tell Elizabeth and Carson where she was headed. She packed up some supplies and fell into bed for a blissful few hours of heavy sleep.
The sun wasn't yet up when she gathered her things and went to saddle her horse. To her surprise, her horse was already saddled and ready. Next to it, sitting astride his own horse, was Ronon.
She gaped, unable to speak for a long moment. He just stared back, a hint of a smirk hidden underneath the beard. She huffed out a breath and gave in with bad grace.
*~*~*~*
Part 2