Ronon Dex joined the army when he was thirteen, as was traditional for the men in his family. It was the easiest decision he’d ever made.

“I don’t think so, Side-Show Bob,” McKay said.

Ronon didn’t know who Side-Show Bob was, and he didn’t care. He didn’t need to fit into Earth culture. Teyla didn’t. All he needed was Sheppard’s respect; everything else was meaningless. He grunted.

“Well, I’ll take it that’s Caveman for, ‘yes, Dr. McKay, I’ll be careful not to touch the unidentified Ancient device that whisked Colonel Sheppard away and could blow us up any second now.’”

“Actually, it means, ‘I don’t care. Do something.’”

“Oh, well why didn’t you just say so?” McKay huffed exasperatedly.

“Too much effort.”

McKay gave him that look – the one that looked like a mix of ‘Should I just go wet myself now?’ and ‘Is he trying to make a joke?’ Ronon liked to think that it was a little bit of both.

“Look, I think I know how to fix this, but . . .”

“Do it.”

“Hell-o?! Were you not listening to my very articulate and purposeful ‘but?’”

“I don’t care about your butt, McKay. Sheppard’s out there somewhere with an army of snake-men and we need to rescue him.”

“Exactly. And for all we know, we could materialize in the middle of a pit of snake-men. So . . .”

“If you’re scared, you don’t have to come.” Ronon tried to shrug - tried to remember between the red flashing across his vision and the strong compulsion to just strangle McKay then and there, that he might actually need the whiny wimp of a scientist to get Sheppard transported back here in one piece.

“I’m not . . . well, maybe I’m a little afraid for my life, justifiably so, might I add, but if you’d have let me finish, I would’ve said that I just want to make sure that you’re ready.”

Ronon glared, pulling out his pistol and setting it to kill.

McKay gulped. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”

Then he pushed something and they were engulfed in a field of white light. Ronon was ready for anything.

Ronon lost his junior wrestling match when he was ten years old. He was small and skinny back then. His mother congratulated him on trying hard. His father didn’t speak to him for a week. Ronon ate more Tersera root and practiced hard. He never lost again.

“You’re lagging,” Ronon said. It wasn’t malicious. In fact, he was concerned. Ever since they’d returned from the Arcturus mission, Sheppard hadn’t been himself. He’d been getting glassy-eyed and reckless. He was looking less attractive by the day.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” Sheppard wheezed, coming to a stop.

Ronon doubled back. He didn’t reach out to steady Sheppard as he swayed, gripping the railing. They didn’t touch. Sheppard had made that clear – he didn’t want to do it again. He didn’t want more, no matter how good it had been. Sheppard was strange like that – so serious sometimes. Not that Ronon wasn’t serious. It was just that Sheppard was serious in a different way – he was serious about things that didn’t matter, things that were far too fleeting to bother being serious about. And he joked about things that should never be joked about, like life and death.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. I know you were kicking my ass, but do you have to rub it in?”

“You seem tired.” Sheppard had dark circles under his eyes, a heavy step, a drag to his gait. His shoulders slumped and his skin was pale. He obviously hadn’t been sleeping. Ronon knew the sharp edge of exhaustion well; he could recognize it in Sheppard.

“I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

“Or the night before.”

“I’m a busy guy.”

“You’re not doing anything now. Maybe you should go sleep.” Ronon was concerned. Sheppard was far too beautiful a man to look so pale and gaunt like this. And he was the military leader around here; he couldn’t afford not to be in top form. The hierarchy didn’t work if the person at the top didn’t deserve to be there. Ronon knew that – he knew it far too well.

“I’m not tired.”

“Maybe you just need something to relax you.” Ronon stepped closer. He didn’t know for certain that Sheppard’s so-called serious relationship was with McKay, but the sleeplessness and the way they seemed to be avoiding each other sure supported that conclusion, though why someone like Sheppard would ever go for that whiny, spineless, brat of a man, Ronon didn’t know. Sheppard deserved better – someone strong and worthy and commanding. Sheppard just begged to be utterly possessed, and McKay simply didn’t have the balls to do it.

“No, thank you.” Sheppard took a step back.

“No promises, Sheppard. Just two guys helping each other out.” Not that he would mind turning it into a regular thing. Sheppard was a good man, and a worthy prize. Ronon smiled. He’d win this one. He always won. “You look like you could use some help.” He shrugged casually, like he didn’t want it that much.

But he did want it. Sheppard was amazing. Ronon knew the moment skin had touched skin that he wasn’t going to be satisfied with just that once.

“I don’t need a pity fuck.” Sheppard sounded resentful, almost ashamed. It didn’t become him.

“I know. But you can’t tell me that we weren’t good together.” They were spectacular, and Sheppard knew it.

“I’ll think about it,” Sheppard panted, echoing Ronon’s earlier words, then started running again. Ronon lagged just a little, not even winded, but enjoying the tight curve of Sheppard’s ass as he pounded off down the corridor.

When he was fourteen, Ronon lost his virginity. It was traditional for a taskmaster, this first Erus a soldier would ever have, to train his apprentice, care for him, provide him with his much-needed release. It was traditional that a student lived and breathed his taskmaster, became him in a way. The sex was only part of that.

McKay slapped at some invisible (invisible meaning nonexistent) insects. It was the precursor to a big gigantic . . . “I really hope that’s not a mosquito. Do you have any idea how allergic I am to mosquito bites? I mean, the bite gets all swollen and . . . and you don’t want to see me with a bite on the face, because I’ll tell you . . .”

“No, you won’t,” Ronon said. He tried to do it calmly, because he did have to work with McKay, but for some reason it always came out menacing.

“Okay, fine, I won’t. But you think you can scare me Mr. . . . Mr. Big-in-your-face-caveman-Bob-Marley-wannabe.”

Ronon thought it was Sideshow Bob, not Bob Marley. Maybe he had many names.

“I do scare you.”

“Puh-lease. I laugh in the face of danger. See – ha ha ha.” It was choked-up and awkward.

Then, beneath McKay’s inappropriate squeaking, Ronon heard an even more out-of-place sound, a crackling crunch of leaves that just didn’t quite settle right with the constant sounds of the forest. His hackles raised. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious . . . you think you can intimidate me out of dating John, well . . .”

“Shut up. I hear something.”

McKay’s mouth snapped shut, shaking a little as he crouched down behind Ronon whispering, “What is it?”

Ronon didn’t answer. They were being stalked, stalked by snakes slithering against the thin leaf litter on the forest floor, only making noise when they crossed a twig thin enough to crack. Ronon hated jungles most of all – poor visibility, too much background noise, moisture preventing a crackling bed of leaves.

He raised his weapon, scanning the area carefully.

McKay let out a sort of whimper that sounded like a dying Rine animal.

And there it was, a flash of patterned green against the dark brown coat of the forest floor. Ronon shot into the understory, dashing forward and grabbing it by its long slimy neck. It hissed and bit at him, trying to curl its long body around him. Ronon used his other hand to grab the tail and stretch it out.

“I can break your neck,” he said. It sounded pretty persuasive to him.

McKay stomped over to him. “He’ll do it to. I wouldn’t trust this guy. He’s killed more . . .”

The snake-thing hissed again. McKay rolled his eyes. “If you’re like every other alien in the damned galaxy, you’ll understand what I’m saying. If not, I’m sure you speak the same universal language of Caveman as Sideshow Bob here, so if you don’t either talk or somehow show us how to get to Colonel Sheppard sometime soon, I’m going to have to let the trained monkey break your back.”

The round yellow eyes blinked, twitched as Ronon looked into them. “I’m not a trained monkey, McKay.” Cadman had explained that one, as it was an insult McKay used often.

“Shut up. We’re playing ‘good cop, bad cop.’” He sure hoped ‘good cop, bad cop’ wasn’t as confusing as chess, because he could never follow Sheppard when he tried to explain how to play that.

Ronon shrugged, allowing the snake-man to snap at him a little.

“Don’t even think about it,” McKay said.

“Yeah,” Ronon added.

“Yes,” The creature said. It wasn’t a hiss like Ronon had expected. McKay also looked mildly surprised, though he also looked constipated.

Ronon shook the creature a little, tightening his grip against the cool green skin to show that he meant business. “Where are you holding Sheppard?”

“I assume you are referring to the other man that accompanied you.”

“Of course we are! Who the hell do you think we’d be talking about? Jesus Christ?” Apparently McKay knew him too. He must be a popular guy.

“I was simply being thorough.” The creature sounded bored, raising two fingerless arms in supplication. Ronon wanted to break its neck just for its attitude.

“Why the hell do you want him? What are you doing to him? Where is he?”

The creature hissed in a way that might’ve been a sigh. It didn’t sound all that different from McKay himself. “He is located in our village and is very likely unharmed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” McKay squeaked. Even though Ronon didn’t know what a ‘cop’ was, McKay was definitely the bad one.

“If he did not struggle, he would not be harmed.”

Sheppard would have struggled. He was a brave man. Ronon smiled at that. McKay scowled. “Of course he struggled, you idiot! You were taking him captive without provocation!”

“Where’s the village?” Ronon asked, getting worried. Sheppard was a strong man, but these creatures seemed to be too, and they’d had him for a while.

“I can lead you.” There was a hint of a hiss in it this time.

“Yeah, right, like we’re dumb enough to . . .” McKay began.

Ronon released the creature. “You try to escape, I shoot you.” It seemed fair to him.

“I will not try to escape.”

This is where they should’ve fallen into tense silence, like the familiar adrenaline-filled calm before battle, but Ronon should’ve known better to expect any kind of silence with McKay around. “Hey, it just occurred to me . . . you never answered my question.”

“Which one?” the creature asked disdainfully.

“Why’d you take him?”

“To have something with which to trade.”

McKay snorted in disgust and for once, Ronon had to agree with him.

Ronon first had his heart broken at age 20 when Kell betrayed him and the thousands of his men. It hurt more than the broken arm and the attempted feeding and the six years running.

Ronon enjoyed mealtimes. They were his second favorite part of the day after practices with Sheppard. Here they used strange spices and sometimes ate food out of bags, but it was usually warm and always edible, so it was better than he’d had in a long time. Sure, he was forced to use these ridiculous utensil things . . . what were they called? Knives and sporks? And sometimes people, especially that weak politician of a woman who seemed to be nominally in charge around here, tried to sit down and talk with him, but the food . . . Ronon really liked having a full belly, so he’d put up with it.

He heaped something called ‘mashed potatoes,’ rapidly becoming his favorite dish (after this . . . steak), onto his plate and started scanning the room for an empty table. Maybe today he’d get lucky and someone would skitter away like a scared animal to leave a place for him . . . that small raven-haired scientist looked promising. Except, behind her, Sheppard was sitting alone, stirring that gelatinous green stuff forlornly. Ronon smiled and began picking his way across the room. Sheppard didn’t notice the motion. He even startled when Dr. McKay beat Ronon to it. McKay looked flustered, talking quickly and not meeting Sheppard’s eyes.

Ronon sat down next to the skittish-looking scientist who gasped and almost spilled her tray standing to leave.

Ronon could just hear Sheppard and McKay from here, even if they were tucked into a relatively isolated corner. He had good hearing.

“John, please . . .”

“Rodney, no.”

“Look, I screwed up. I know I screwed up. And you have every right not to trust me. But that was a professional screw up. Please don’t let that get in the way of what we have . . .” So Ronon was right – McKay was Sheppard’s significant other. This should make things even easier. How could Sheppard prefer McKay to someone like Ronon? All fat rolls and whining compared to hard muscle and stoic bravery. Ronon was a man. McKay was . . . well, he was a scientist.

“Had, Rodney . . . had. It was professional, until you made it personal.” Sheppard’s voice was a harsh whisper. Ronon found it oddly attractive. “You asked me to trust you. You called up our personal relationship and . . . that can’t happen, Rodney. I can’t afford to let you emotionally blackmail me into bad command decisions . . .”

“Emotionally blackmail you? Emotionally . . . John, that’s bullshit and you know it.”

“Why’d you have to make it personal, Rodney?” Sheppard sounded weary, disappointed, pained. Ronon could make him forget all that, if he’d just let him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Sheppard stood to leave without even really touching his food. As he brushed by, Ronon snatched his mashed potatoes off his plate.

“You up for some practice after you’re done?” Sheppard asked.

“Sure.” Ronon waited for Sheppard to leave before he allowed himself to smile. He ate quickly.

Ronon first fell in love when he was seven. Her name was Tristi, and she smelled like cavasa flowers and had the most beautiful flowing brown hair. At age twelve she caught the sleeping sickness and never woke. He next fell in love when he was 19. His name was Walin and he died in the war. Ronon didn’t fall in love after that.

The village was the same one he’d seen on hundreds of worlds – primitive, secluded, filled with hard work and false idols that couldn’t save these people from their fate anymore than Ronon could. It was a scene that never changed. Perhaps one day the land would grow fallow and the people would move on and leave the mud-caked huts and the hanging platforms and the barely-churned soil to rot like everything else here. Or maybe the Wraith would grow hungry, strike with a culling that cut too deep. And it would sink into the sands of time only to rise up again a hundred, a thousand years later, another tribe, another race, yet completely the same.

In places like these where nature was boundless, but life tough none-the-less, in a world of daily change, there would be no great shifts, no progress. In the end, it didn’t matter if these people lived or died. They would not bring an end to the Wraith. They would not even have the presence of mind mourn their own demise – they were so used to disease and quick decay and the thousand other predators out there in the night.

The . . . creature that was obviously the chief, or something like that, uncoiled from where it was perched on the highest platform, arms sliding in time with its body as it slithered down the tree trunk to the forest floor. “Welcome.”

“Yes, yes, thank you . . . we um . . . we’re here for our friend. You must remember him, tall, sarcastic, head of hair like a troll doll . . . um, well you wouldn’t know what that is . . . does the term ‘rakish’ mean anything to you?”

McKay was as bad at diplomacy as Sheppard kept saying. Ronon wished Teyla were here. She would know what to do.

Ronon kept his weapon held firmly against the neck of the creature that had led them here, pulling tighter on the noose they’d tied around its neck after the first escape attempt.

“We trade him for this one.”

The disgusting flat face of the chief seemed to twist and fold until its gaping jaw opened up in an impression of a smile. “That would hardly be fair, seeing how much more useful your Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard is to us than this lowling.” The creature gestured expressively, allowing them to see the scar running across the light green chest, much like Ronon’s own. It was a feeding mark,

Ronon saw McKay stiffen as he continued to babble. “Well, we have lots of other things we’d be willing to trade. Um . . . food . . . medicines . . . did I mention I know everything about pretty much everything?” He wrung his hands.

“The forest is bountiful,” the creature pronounced. This wasn’t going anywhere. If he only knew where they were keeping Sheppard, they could get this over with. “But there is one thing you have that we do not.” The creature slithered closer to McKay.

Ronon tightened his hold on his prisoner. “Don’t move.”

Wide yellow eyes met his, pupil narrowing to slits. Then the creature reached out an unnaturally long fingerless limb, brushing McKay’s hand just slightly. “Several things, actually.”

McKay shivered and made a spineless whimpering sound. “How about you let me and my friend here discuss this, hm?”

Ronon had absolutely no idea what was going on and though McKay seemed to, it was time to make something happen.

“Let us see Sheppard. For your sake he’d better be alive.”

The chief nodded to one of the other creatures, who took off up into the branches.

McKay got closer as Ronon pushed their hostage forward, forcing it to hang by the rope he’d tied around its neck like a leash. “No matter what happens, I don’t want you to do anything stupid like trying to shoot our way out of this.”

“Why not? There aren’t that many of them.”

“They’re snake-people, they could drop on us from out of the trees! And besides, if they are telling the truth, this could be a very productive trade.”

“For what? They don’t have anything of value other than Sheppard.”

“You saw the mark on the chief’s chest. They’re resistant to the Wraith.”

“They’re snakes.”

“Look, all they're asking for in trade is some manual labor, and since we’re working with the US Marine Corps, we’ve got that in droves. Now, it can’t hurt to hear them out. Let me do all the talking.”

Then Ronon saw movement in the canopy, a bulky black shape sliding down a gigantic white tree trunk. He aimed his weapon, protectively. McKay was right about them falling out of trees. But as the figure got closer to the ground, Ronon recognized it as Sheppard, tied to the back of one of the snake things . . . no, held there by those two disturbingly tail-like arms. His trigger finger itched for release.

“He is alive,” the chieftain pronounced as Sheppard was released to the ground. He fell on his hands and knees, breathing hard and standing gingerly. They’d done something to him. Ronon wanted to punch something.

“Hi, guys, come to rescue me?” Sheppard wheezed, wrapping one arm protectively around his chest.

“Something like that.” Ronon glared at McKay.

“We’re . . . um . . . we’re discussing the terms of a trade.”

The snake-creature that had gotten Sheppard down from the tree was pulling him toward a position slightly behind the chief and a few others of the creatures, far enough away so Ronon wouldn’t be able to grab him without doing some real damage first. “Good luck with that,” Sheppard called as the creature wrapped itself around him threateningly.

This did not look good.

“We can offer you materials and manpower as you require, but I’m really not authorized to make these um . . . long term kind of deals. I’m a scientist, you see,” McKay said, somewhere between scared and smug.

“We will keep this one to ensure your return then,” the chief said. “You may keep one of ours.”

Then Sheppard coughed. Leaning over and hacking violently.

“What’d you do to him?” Ronon protested.

“He was resistant to capture. We were forced to subdue him.”

“Let him go! You’re hurting him!” McKay exclaimed.

The creature holding Sheppard released him, but the coughing fit went on for a minute more, until Sheppard was wiping blood away from his mouth. They’d subdued him by squeezing, hurting him in the process.

McKay paled. “We’d like to trade with you. Really, we would. But we need to get him back now! If something happens to him, I can guarantee you will get absolutely squat from us!”

“Others have said that but have never returned. They fear us.”

“We don’t . . . we don’t . . . um . . . fear you . . .” It would’ve been more convincing without the shivering.

“Are you willing to make a binding promise? A show of strength before the Gods?”

McKay looked uncertain, but took one look at Sheppard and said, “Yes, I am.”

“Then we must prepare,” the chief bobbed its head in a way that suggested a bow.

“Are you crazy?” Ronon whispered. Who knew what these people thought was a show of strength before the Gods? But McKay didn’t look capable of a show of strength in front of anyone over the age of four.

“Well, what do you suggest we do? We can’t wait to finalize a stupid trade agreement before we get John to a doctor.” Ronon definitely agree with that, at least.

“I say we shoot the chief, grab Sheppard, and run for it.” It was simple. Ronon was a big fan of simple.

“Well, I say we act like rational human beings and play along while we wait for Teyla to come back with reinforcements.”

“But what about that people-moving device?”

“The transporter?”

“How will she find us?”

“I don’t know. She’s a resourceful girl. Look, as many guns and knives and whatever you have hidden in that ‘do’ of yours, we can’t fight our way out of this.”

“Watch me.”

“Look. Let’s at least try their test thing.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do it?”

“I already agreed . . . and besides if we fail and no help comes, by all means, shoot away. I just don’t think that you and me against 30 crazy snake-aliens are very good odds.”

“Don’t forget Sheppard.”

“Sheppard is weaponless and . . .” McKay seemed to choke up a bit, voice high and frightened. “And he doesn’t look so good right now.”

Ronon looked over at where Sheppard was standing, snake-man wrapped threateningly around his legs, bruises already crawling up the side of his face and his neck. He looked pale, still clutching his right side. McKay was right – though he didn’t look bad enough to be a complete burden (Ronon had faith in him, after all), he still couldn’t be counted on as a fully capable third . . . then again, McKay probably couldn’t either.

Ronon first killed a man when he was seventeen. It was in a bar at four in the morning and he was drunk. It wasn’t like he imagined it would be.

He found McKay tucked under a console, doing something technical that he didn’t understand and didn’t care too. Ronon thought McKay was weak, and an asshole. He didn’t like him one bit. But McKay was a member of his team – a member that needed to trust him, to a certain extent. McKay was also a human being and Ronon was remembering more and more that you should respect your fellow human beings. He owed McKay something . . . even if he wasn’t quite sure what.

“I know about you and Sheppard.”

McKay banged his head on the console.

Ronon smirked.

“What?!” McKay protested.

“You were lovers.”

“Yeah, and?” McKay pushed himself off the floor with a grunt, getting right up in Ronon’s face like he was trying to be intimidating. It didn’t work. “You have a problem with that?”

“No.”

“A galaxy away and the military’s still too dumb to figure out that if they’re going to discriminate, they’ve only got a bunch of angry gay guys with guns. Because if you knew the statistics on homosexuality in the armed forces . . . wait? No?”

“No. I don’t have a problem with it. But, I know it’s over and that Sheppard’s free game. I’m going to pursue him. I thought you should know.”

“You’re what? Wait . . . no, we’re not over. We’re just on break . . . you can’t . . . you’re not . . . “

“A man can do anything.” It was a motto he lived by. “It’s a matter of what he’s willing to let himself do.”

“But he doesn’t love you.”

“Not yet,” Ronon said. In truth, he didn’t care if Sheppard did or not. All he knew was what he wanted and that he was willing to do a lot in order to get it – more than McKay would ever be willing to do. That was all there was, everything else was immaterial.

McKay just gaped. Ronon walked away. That little attempt at socialization was surprisingly satisfying. He didn’t feel guilty at all. He felt honorable.

The last time Ronon had a nightmare, he was nineteen. He dreamed about Kalia Ridge, where he’d seen half his company wiped out. He dreamed of blood and screams and surreal visages that were very real. He hadn’t remembered a single dream since – even the ones that left him panting and hard.

“Oh my god. That looks like an arena. Are they setting up an arena? Cause . . . am I allowed to use weapons? I can shoot them. Yeah. My aim’s getting better. I can shoot them . . . what do I do?”

“Don’t let them strangle you. Keep moving. They can’t hit you, so they’ll have to grab you. If you stick to quick jabs, they have less time to try to wrap around you.”

“That’s right. Quick jabs . . . quick jabs . . . I can do this. I can do this, right?”

Ronon nodded, though he highly doubted it. “You volunteered.”

McKay’s brow wrinkled in determination. “I volunteered. My turn to save Sheppard . . . again. When will the man learn to not make me have a heart attack every five seconds worrying about his stupid heroics, hm?” There had been no stupid heroics this time, though. They’d been walking towards one of McKay’s ‘anomalous energy readings,’ which Ronon guessed was the device that transported them here, and then flash, a snake-creature was strangling Sheppard. Ronon raised his weapon and they were gone. There wasn’t anything he could’ve done. He’d almost prefer it if there had been. Ronon could accept mistakes. What he couldn’t accept was when the other side had an overwhelming strategic advantage.

“I don’t know.”

“Rhetorical question. Hel-lo?”

“Are you prepared, Stranger?” the chief asked from where he was now perched on a platform overlooking a cleared space below, clearly the arena.

McKay gulped. “Yes. Prepared to attempt the challenge. Totally prepared. Yes, definitely . . .”

The chief bobbed its head again in that weird sort of nod. “The first challenge is one of strength. You will face two of our people in a fight.”

“To the death?” McKay squeaked, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“Until defeat. If you lose, you will have lost nothing but your trading rights. We are a fair people. We only hope that you shall prove the same.”

Ronon did not see how abducting Sheppard qualified as fair, but he was not the diplomat. His finger still itched for the trigger.

“You must relinquish all weapons,” the chief commanded.

“Of course . . . why would you allow me an overwhelming strategic advantage, right?” McKay laughed humorlessly.

“Give them to me, McKay,” Ronon said quickly, not wanting to give the two of them even more of a disadvantage.

McKay nodded and with shaking hands, handed Ronon a knife and his handgun.

“The vest too.” It would only serve to slow him and was not built to protect against suffocation.

“Stranger, please step forth into the ring of trial, like the sacred ring of the Ancestors. Here we shall find if you are strong enough to fulfill your promise.”

McKay stepped forward into the arena, and Ronon stepped closer, right up to the border where he’d be able to intercede if things got bad.

The two fighters they’d chosen for McKay didn’t look all that big. But then again, these creatures were so different that it was impossible to gauge their strength. It was like the Wraith. The strength of an opponent depended not on how big, how man muscles, but on how recently it had fed, which was impossible to tell from appearance.

McKay crouched down low, awkwardly, but it would make him slightly harder to entrap. He flung his hands out wide, sort of doing these little hops around one of the creatures as the other circled him. Ronon would’ve laughed if he wasn’t afraid for the man.

Ronon saw the attack coming before McKay did. He began to shout out a warning only to have the chief’s eyes meet his with a shake of its head, more like bobbing it actually.

The creature that had been circling sprung, but McKay reacted just in time to give it a firm punch to the chest. It staggered backwards, but the other snake was now in the fight, going for McKay’s legs. McKay kicked it, and before the other snake could get back into the fray, kicked it again, down the slope and out of the arena. It stood lethargically, but did not reenter. It would’ve been nice if the chief had mentioned that particular rule.

Well, that was one down. But Ronon knew better than to celebrate just yet.

McKay stared at the disqualified creature in disbelief, a smile spreading across his face. It was an amateur’s mistake, giving the first creature a window of opportunity.

“Rodney!” Sheppard was shouting, only to have his guard squeeze tighter. He coughed, but the call was enough to get McKay’s attention.

He spun around, arms flailing, but his attacker still managed to get partially wrapped around him only to be forced to release by another punch to the face. But McKay was already tiring. He had to keep in motion and had to maintain focus and he just wasn’t used to this kind of thing.

The creature had finally gained a foothold and was now winding its way up McKay’s body from the forest floor. McKay struggled and moaned and flung himself around uselessly, but the creature keep creeping itself up.

Until McKay tripped. He actually tripped over the creature’s tail and fell over. It was so pathetic it was painful. But the impact with the harsh ground had jarred the opponent. Actually it appeared that McKay’s added weight on top of it crushed the breath out of it (thanks to the obscene number of these ‘doughnut’ things he seemed so fond of shuffling down).

McKay stumbled to his feet, breathing hard and looking stunned. He looked down at the creature writhing at his feet than back up to Ronon. “Did you see how I just . . .”

Ronon let out the sigh of relief that he didn’t even know he was holding. McKay limped over to him, still babbling. Of course, McKay’s ankle wasn’t really “broken . . . probably needs to be in a cast for months and months like that time in the 4th grade when Lindsey Heatherton rolled over my finger with her science fair project . . . at least I won that year.”

“Good job,” Ronon said.

But instead of babbling more self-congratulations, McKay looked across the arena to where Sheppard was now sitting, still guarded, but leaning back on a log. He was still grasping his side, but he smiled and waved when they both looked his way.

“Does he look all right to you?” McKay asked, worriedly.

“He’ll be fine.” In truth, Ronon didn’t like what he saw from Sheppard, and now McKay was limping, broken ankle or not.

Sheppard looked concerned as McKay hobbled around Ronon to take a seat.

“The second one had better be easy,” McKay said. “I mean, as great as I was in there . . . taking out those two attackers. Did you see that? I’m not sure how much more of that I can do, horribly injured as I am.” His voice, despite the bragging, lacked the usual pound-you-into-the-floor confidence Ronon normally saw in the labs or when Sheppard asked him if he could do something scientific.

“You’ll be fine,” Ronon offered. Of course, in Ronon’s experience, the second challenge would always be far harder.

And he sure hoped it wouldn’t be physical because pretty soon the Chief was slithering out to them looking ready to make and announcement. They didn’t even give McKay five minutes of rest before they sent him back out there again. Only this time it was to a large standing platform several of the creatures had brought out in their long fingerless arms. It was like a table only with symbols and strange looking moving parts on the surface. McKay rolled his eyes the moment he saw it.

Ronon didn’t need to hear the announcement by the chief to know that they were interested in intellect. In fact, McKay didn’t even give it a chance to speak, he just rearranged a few things on the board that Ronon couldn’t see and the few gathered around it gasped their approval.

McKay limped back, chest puffed out. Sheppard was grinning. Ronon frowned slightly. He hoped that McKay hadn’t offended the tribe by not allowing for a speech, but they simply seemed excited.

“Pythagorean numbers . . . triangles! Three and a half PhDs and the smartest brain in two galaxies and they give me triangles! Is half this galaxy stuck in the Stone Age? I swear, at least in the Milky Way they all have energy weapons. Not that . . . you know, I like getting shot at with energy weapons, but it shows a level of sophistication . . .”

“Be glad you passed,” Ronon said, watching the chief carry out some kind of cup. It looked like some sort of blessing ceremony, like the traditional drinking of the blood of Sitar when one became initiated into the brotherhood of warriors on Sateda. Ronon could still remember the ceremony.

McKay turned to see the Chief, who immediately spoke. “Drink the Wine of the Gods and become an honored trading partner, blessed by those on high.” Whatever you might say about kidnappings and mistreatment of prisoners, these people didn’t waste their time on pomp and pleasantries. Then again, Ronon thought, looking at Sheppard, they might be worried about their main trading good expiring before the actual trade.

McKay took the cup, brought it to his mouth then lowered it.

Ronon glared at him in confusion. Sheppard stood from his seated position, looking as ready as he could to fight.

“Citrus,” McKay whispered, horrified.

Ronon failed both his mathematics and his history tests when he was in his eighth year of schooling. Welder’s parents sent him to extra lessons; Ronon’s father told him that mathematics and history were useless in battle. He never returned to school and was glad of it.

Sheppard looked rumpled when he opened the door, that just-fucked look that Ronon had always found so attractive. He remembered Sha’el Etheran well – the prettiest boy in Ronon’s favorite brothel on Sateda. He’d actually cried when Ronon shipped out. The pretty ones were always strange like that. No wonder Sheppard had gotten so attached.

“Ronon.” Sheppard squinted. It wasn’t all that attractive. “This is a surprise.”

Sheppard was wearing a black shirt, as usual, but not much covering his toned legs. Ronon looked down pointedly. “I’d like to come in.”

Sheppard shrugged, still looking confused. “I guess.”

Ronon smiled and stepped inside. Sheppard’s quarters were neat, like what Ronon remembered about the military. But they also looked lived in. There was a depiction pasted to the wall – some guy drawn in black and white, maybe an ex-lover. Sheppard could do better. But then again, if he was fooling around with McKay, he seemed to have pretty low standards. That was okay. The idea of Sheppard as a slut was stirring.

Sheppard walked back and sat down on the bed. “So, is there something I can do for you?”

Well, that was easier than he would’ve thought. Ronon grinned, already hard from looking at Sheppard in these strange not-quite pants. He wondered what they said. He took a step forward, positioning himself in between Sheppard’s knees, looking down at him. “You can take off your small pants.”

Sheppard looked even more confused. He looked down, but instead of the sexy ‘yes, Sir’ Ronon would’ve expected from Sha’el, he said, “You mean my boxers?” and laughed.

So, another strange cultural tradition. Ronon shrugged, stepping forward so Sheppard couldn’t mistake the meaning of his hardness rubbing up against his belly.

Sheppard leaned back on the bed and away from Ronon. “They’re not pants, Ronon. They’re underwear.”

“Underwear?”

“You know, the clothes you wear under your clothes.”

Ronon shrugged. “Well, then I guess I’m not wearing any.”

Sheppard collapsed back onto the bed, burying his face in his hands. “God, Ronon, you don’t know how hard you’re making this.”

These ‘boxer’ things didn’t do too good a job of hiding that. Ronon reached a hand out, only to have Sheppard sit back up and stand, forcing him to take a step back.

“It doesn’t have to be hard,” Ronon said. He wanted Sheppard. Sheppard clearly wanted him. What was the problem? These Earth people were so strange.

“You’re under my command.”

“So is Dr. McKay.”

“Rodney? You know about me and Rodney?” Sheppard pushed his way past Ronon and sank into the chair in the corner.

“It’s pretty obvious.”

“Look, Ronon, you can’t tell anybody, okay?”

Ronon snorted. “I knew you wouldn’t go for him in public. A pretty one like you . . .”

Sheppard was on his feet again. “What?! No, no, Ronon, you’ve got it all wrong. I’m not . . . I’m not that shallow. I love Rodney. I mean: I loved him. I can’t . . . couldn’t . . . I can’t be with anyone in public because I’d lose my job!”

Ronon was confused. Hadn’t Sheppard been with some Chaya woman . . . wasn’t that what Teyla warned him not to bring up? “Teyla says you’ve been with others.”

“Women! To keep up the image.”

Sheppard wasn’t helping. And when he ran his hands through his hair like that, he was helping even less. Ronon’s dick twitched impatiently. “Women?”

“Yes, women. Look, Ronon, we have this thing called ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ where I come from. People in the military can’t be gay . . . um . . . they can’t have sex with people of the same sex.”

What a ridiculous rule. On Sateda it was traditional for the men of the corps to lose their virginity to their taskmaster and then to take care of each other’s need, whatever it might be. It made them better soldiers. It made them fight harder for the man by their side. Why would Sheppard’s military deny them that?

“But you had sex with McKay. You had sex with me.”

“Well, the whole point of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ is that I can have sex with whomever I want, so long as nobody talks about it.”

Just another strange Earth tradition, up there with sporks and knives and hairbrushes and this watching-box thing that Sheppard and McKay kept fighting about. He was living with these people now. He’d just play along with their silly rules. Maybe one day he’d even understand them. Ronon shrugged. “If you had sex with me, I wouldn’t tell.”

Sheppard didn’t say anything.

Ronon decided to take that as a ‘maybe.’ So he kissed him. Ronon was a very persuasive kisser.

“Mmmpf,” Sheppard said as Ronon pushed them back onto Sheppard’s bed, kissing down Sheppard’s neck and working on these boxer things which had a convenient slit up the front and no lacing to undo. They were kind of stretchy around the waist . . . came off easy . . . maybe he’d have to get himself some.

Ronon grinned as he pulled Sheppard’s boxer’s off, regretting having to stand to unlace his own pants and pull them off. Last time they’d had sex, he’d just undone the front and fucked Sheppard then and there, quick and dirty. But if he really was going to make Sheppard fall in love with him, as McKay had suggested, he’d have to take it slow.

But Sheppard looked so amazingly beautiful spread out for him like that, hard and panting, long cock swollen and tight entrance just begging for him. How was he supposed to do slow looking at a sight like that?

“You’re amazing, Sheppard,” Ronon said, proud of the romanticism of it.

Sheppard smiled a little, but it seemed strained. Ronon was sure he’d get over it. He finally shucked off his pants and pulled off his shirt and Sheppard said, “Jesus.”

Ronon didn’t know who this ‘Jesus’ character was, but Sheppard seemed to swear at him a lot, so he assumed that he was some ex that Ronon looked like. And judging by the gasping sounds Sheppard was making just looking at him, Ronon guessed that Sheppard found Jesus very attractive.

As Ronon moved to straddle him, Sheppard’s hands reached out, tracing over Ronon’s abs almost tentatively. Sheppard had delicate fingers, agile and deft like Ronon would imagine a pilot’s to be. His hands slipped down Ronon’s thighs, over the tattoo on his hip, up his back as he pulled Ronon down on top of him. This was the first time Sheppard had ever really touched him on his own, Ronon realized. It was better than he could’ve imagined.

Sheppard was a lazy kisser, so different from that dangerous desperation the first time. He was playful, his tongue slipping in between Ronon’s lips for a smooth caress, only to pull back suddenly as Sheppard nipped at his lips.

It’s been a long time since Ronon’d had anyone like this – too long. Even before he was a runner, he’d been on the battle lines, resigned to a quick release, a bruising desperate affirmation of life. On the battlefield, there was no time for tenderness. Tenderness was what broke you, even if love made you strong.

Sheppard smiled a wicked smile, thrusting a knee in-between Ronon’s thighs and flipping them over. Ronon could’ve regained control, but he liked Sheppard like this too. He’d liked him fighting back in the gym and he loved this new flirting submissiveness too.

Sheppard pinned Ronon’s hands above his head and straddled him. “Want to fuck me?” he teased.

Ronon nodded, straining up against him.

“Or do you want me to fuck you?” Sheppard asked, voice low and husky.

Did he mean he wanted Ronon to be the Disciplulus this time? He hadn’t done that in ages. But looking up at Sheppard’s playful but somehow haunting eyes, his slim hips, his hair, wild like an old man’s but somehow still attractive, Ronon thought that he’d willingly be the student again. He’d die for Sheppard. He’d kill for him. He’d let him teach him all his strange ways, maybe even what these Earth people called love.

“Sure,” Ronon said, trying to be casual.

“Good,” Sheppard said leaning over Ronon to grab something out of the bedside cabinet. It was some sort of bottle – like the one where McKay kept all that ‘sunscreen’ he was always mad at Ronon for not wearing.

Ronon studied Sheppard as he opened the bottle. Was now really the time? Were they going to be out in the sun? Maybe this was some sort of Earth ritual – marking a mate or something?

Only this stuff looked clear. Ronon frowned.

“Lube,” Sheppard said, like that explained it.

Then Sheppard’s hands were cool and smooth on his cock, covering Ronon in this ‘lube’ stuff. He moaned at the contrast of temperatures.

And Sheppard was playing with himself, spreading the new substance over his own hole, fucking himself with his fingers. Ronon had never seen anyone who wasn’t a prostitute do that. Sheppard was too good for that – too loyal, too clever, too good of a man.

He reached out, taking the tube from Sheppard and spreading some of the goop onto his own fingers. It felt like the juice of the Rasia berry, only less sticky. Maybe Sheppard also used it in his hair. But here, its use was unmistakable, like the sacred oils used by the best of the brothels in Bastila. “Let me.”

Sheppard smiled slyly, pushing himself up against Ronon’s fingers with small panting breaths, guiding Ronon’s hands to his sweet spot. God, he was so tight, warmth drawing Ronon in like the crackling hearth that had tempted him for years on end. Ronon closed his eyes and drank it in. It was there again, that tenderness. Sheppard was a good commander. He took care of his men. Ronon had seen that from the beginning. That was why he’d wanted him so much.

Then Sheppard was pulling his hands away and it almost hurt, like the straining in his cock only in his chest. He missed that tenderness almost immediately.

“I think I’m ready, Ronon. More than ready,” Sheppard panted.

Ronon smiled. As much as he liked the intimacy, fucking was really good too. He made to flip them over, but Sheppard steadied his hands, lowering himself down onto Ronon’s weeping cock. It was so beautiful it was painful, like the sunsets over the Straits of Amera, with the sky bleeding into the churning ocean and dancing like the Evil One from iceberg to iceberg, making even the harshest cold seem warm.

Ronon let out a choked groan as Sheppard worked himself above him, rolling like the sea, gasps falling around them like cannonballs. The earth moved. It shook. This was a revelation bigger than the End of Days . . . that it could be this good.

If this wasn’t the love soldiers looked for to fuel the fire of their fight, Ronon didn’t know what was. “Sidaharata!” he called as he came – the ancient battle cry, the word that bound the warrior to his brother as he was bound to the land.

And then Sheppard was shooting his load all over Ronon’s chest, painting pictures the way blood did in the aftermath of battle – pictures only warriors knew.

Sheppard collapsed on top of him, swinging a leg over so he was lying beside him, facing away and curling up into himself. He was probably cold. The man was a bit on the skinny side.

Ronon grabbed a rumpled blanket to drape over him as he cleaned his chest with his hand and then licked it clean. The gesture of ultimate respect was lost on Sheppard, facing away as he was.

The first man Ronon had wanted to kill was Daren Quell. He’d gotten high on Salisbery powder and raped Ronon’s little sister. Ronon put a knife in his gut and left him in the mountains for the wild dogs to find. It didn’t feel as good as it should’ve. But it still felt right.

“Well, you know it’s my policy not to accept drinks from strangers . . . you know how it is . . . we might not be biologically capable of handling your foods. It’s nothing personal really. Couldn’t . . . you know, couldn’t he drink it for me?” He pointed to Ronon.

The chief narrowed its eyes in disapproval. “Why is this one more capable of drinking foreign drinks than you are?”

“He’s been living on the lam for years. Stomach of steel, that one. Not that you’d know what steel is, but . . . he’ll eat anything. Probably eaten raw pig fungus and the like. Haven’t you, Ronon?”

Ronon glared.

“That’s a ‘yes,’ by the way. I’m very sorry, but I can’t. I really, really want to say a big thank you to your gods and everything. Trust me, I’d like nothing more than to formalize our trade agreement and be out of here, but . . . Not that you would understand, but I have a very specific condition where I will go into anaphylactic shock and . . . well, you don’t get that, do you? My windpipe will swell up and I won’t be able to breathe and the soft tissue . . . and there’ll be epinephrine and anti-histamines and hospital visits and . . . seriously, can’t he just drink it for me?”

The chief blinked once, clearly understanding even less of McKay’s panicked rant than Ronon did. “No.”

McKay bit his lip. He looked at Ronon and then across at Sheppard, who was standing now, clearly straining to hear their frantic conversation. ‘Citrus,’ Ronon mouthed to him.

Sheppard seemed to get it and started walking forward, shaking his head. ‘Don’t let him do it,’ every muscle in his body seemed to say, with this tension that Ronon had never seen in him before, as casual as he usually was. Then the creature watching him curled up around Sheppard to stop him. Ronon took a protective step forward as he let out a short yelp of pain.

McKay took one look and said, “Okay, I’ll do it . . .”

Sheppard was yelling now. “Don’t. Rodney, don’t you fucking dare!”

And Ronon stepped between McKay and the chief, like he was stepping in front of a firing squad and said. “What if I do the tests?” He could beat two snake-creatures, no problem, and whatever this triangle thing was . . . how hard could it be? McKay was insulted by it.

The chief nodded sullenly, slithering away with the cup in its hands.

“You know about Pythagorean numbers, right?” McKay asked, only to have another creature grab him by the arm and pull him away.

“You will not share the secrets of the gods.”

Ronon tossed McKay his weapons and the rope tied to their prisoner, who seemed to be watching the whole thing unconcernedly. Ronon wanted to tighten the noose around its neck, just to make the point that this could end very, very badly if it wasn’t careful.

McKay held the rope limply, looking forlornly across the arena at Sheppard as Ronon stepped up, ready to fight.

In a flash he was surrounded by six snake-men. He grinned. The tribe clearly thought very highly of him.

He could hear McKay protesting in the background, but he didn’t care, familiar rush of adrenaline already surging through his veins. They wanted a test? He’d give them a test.

Ronon didn’t even wait for the creatures to attack him. He grabbed the nearest two and slammed them together, smiling at the satisfying crack their skulls made on impact. Another one was coming at him from behind, and he flung that one wide, grabbing it by a slick fingerless arm and throwing it out of the arena. There was a tickle at his ankle, a snake trying to slither up from below. He didn’t look down as he jumped, punching another snake on his way down and landing hard on the first one at his feet.

He stepped over the body, not caring if the creature was even still breathing as he faced off against the remaining two. They were larger, yellow eyes dark and long fangs bared. If he were from some far off land with this television and Ferris Wheels and all the things Sheppard thought so fondly of, he might’ve found them frightening, but in Ronon’s world, hunted by the Wraith and haunted by a war they could not hope to win, they were just another adversary, another conquest, another day.

They circled him in well-coordinated strategy – one in front and one behind. But Ronon was impatient. The longer he took, the more danger he put Sheppard in, and the man was not looking well where he sat on the sidelines, features drawn tight in repressed pain. Ronon admired that. That was one thing he admired about Sheppard above all else, the thing that made him want to kneel before him: that Sheppard would never ask his men to stand for him, to do something he himself would not do. Regardless of what Sheppard did with his body, he would never betray Ronon’s heart, because he would never leave a man behind.

Unfortunately, his impatience cost him, as he went for the snake in front of him, the other one got him from behind, the quick stab of pain in his shoulder, a bite. He didn’t have time to wonder if these creatures were venomous as he flung the first creature clear, unable to dislodge the second. He could always try McKay’s strategy of gracelessly falling on it, but instead he waited for the creature to try to wrap itself around him. The second the thin green tail came into vision, he grabbed it in his hands and snapped.

The creature released him instantly with a wounded hiss. Ronon threw it out of the arena for good measure.

There was no clapping and cheering as he would have expected from such a well-fought contest. It was not like the games on Sateda when all the warriors gathered for drink and wrestling, fighting until they were drunk and bloodied only to return to soft beds and welcoming arms.

There were no arms for him here, only Sheppard looking more concerned than proud (unlike all his previous Eri) and McKay frowning slightly, babbling something about snake venom and how there was no way he was going to lick it out of the wound.

Ronon checked his shoulder as McKay limped over, offering a field dressing. Ronon took it, to humor him, but despite the blood now dripping freely down his back, it wasn’t deep. In fact, the whole area was feeling slightly numb. He shrugged it off, ready for the next test – the challenging one.

McKay looked completely conspicuous as he came up to Ronon, clearly about to tell him the answer to the puzzle, but before he could even make it, the chief hissed at him in warning, and he was forced to sit back down. Sheppard too, looked worried. Ronon was hurt. He hated the fact that Sheppard would doubt him like this.

One of the chief’s attendants led Ronon up to the platform. There was a simple table there, covered in triangles, as McKay had pointed out. Then there were stones with different numbers of scratches on them. He looked nervously towards McKay, but a snake creature stepped in front of him purposefully to obstruct his view.

Sheppard was mouthing something, despite the fact that he hadn’t even seen the puzzle, but Ronon couldn’t see how he could possibly know. Three, seven, and five? But which one of the triangles used that one? How was he supposed to know? He remembered something vaguely from his last year of schooling, but numbers had always been his weakest subject.

He studied the puzzle for a minute more, acutely aware of the creatures pressed around him. He looked up briefly to meet Sheppard’s eyes in question, watching his commander’s body tense, ready for a fight. He hoped McKay would notice as he reached up to scratch his head, hand brushing up against the hilt of one of the spare knives that he always kept handy.

His other hand moved to the mysteriously numbered stones as his eyes flashed to Sheppard once more.

Ronon didn’t think about how he’d let his Erus down as he pulled out the knife and stabbed the nearest guard.

The first time Ronon admitted to having made a mistake was Kell betrayed him. He saw the Wraith charging toward him, already paralyzed from the waist down by a stunner. Out of the corner of his eye he could still see Kell’s back, purple, the color of cowardice in the blue reflection from the gate. Ronon wasted his last shot trying to take down the Wraith that he knew was going to capture him instead of killing his first Erus when he had the chance.

Ronon was sitting in the mess, eating peacefully –with a spork and knife, thank you very much- when McKay walked in. He had that hurried bluster to his stride, the way he did when Sheppard was forcing him to do something he hated.

This should be good. Ronon ducked his head and pretended not to be watching. He had to agree with Sheppard that it was sort of fun watching McKay bully his science team.

But McKay’s footsteps didn’t stop in front of the small dark-haired woman that he was so fond of yelling at. Instead they continued past her to stop in front of Ronon’s table. “This seat taken?”

Bold move. Ronon would give him credit for that. He shoveled another sporkful of potatoes into his mouth.

“What’d you want, McKay?” he said through the potatoes.

“Ugh. And people say I have disgusting eating habits.”

Ronon glared.

“Oh, right, yes, yes, what do I want, hm?” McKay didn’t actually take the seat that Ronon hadn’t offered him, but stood, waving his hands about nervously. “I . . . uh . . . I wanted to tell you that . . . you . . . you don’t want to make an enemy of me,” McKay said. It would’ve been more convincing without all the trembling.

“Why not?” Ronon raised his eyebrows. This should be interesting. If nothing else, McKay was always entertaining.

“Because . . . because I can turn off your hot water . . . make strange beeping noises follow you around . . . electrocute you in your sleep . . . send you off to an ice planet never to return . . .”

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Except for the whole never returning part, obviously.

McKay gulped. “I’m a genius, you don’t even know what I’m capable of if I put my mind to it.”

“I’m sure I don’t. But getting rid of me isn’t going to win Sheppard back.”

“It’s a step in the right direction.”

“You’re welcome to try.” That would be an interesting challenge. Ronon liked challenges, ones that didn’t involve running from the Wraith your whole life, at least. Life here on Atlantis was making him soft – probably something in the water. He could use a good challenge, a diversion.

“Fine. I will then.”

Ronon smiled, giving McKay a small punch in the arm that made him jump. “See you.”

He felt cordial, saying a proper goodbye like that, like he was sort of fitting in. Before, he’d had a very satisfying workout with Teyla and now he was going to go fuck Sheppard. Things were looking up.

The first time Ronon almost died, he was six years old. His father took him hiking in the mountains and they got stuck in a snowstorm. His dad dug a hole in the snow, wrapped him in his big warm coat and told him to stay put. Ronon watched the snowflakes dance for three hours while his dad brought back a dogsled and a mound of blankets. He was too cold to be afraid.

The creatures in Ronon’s immediate vicinity went down quickly and easily. The chief practically slithered away, allowing Ronon to jump down from the platform and run for where McKay was ineffectively fending off the creature whom he still had on a leash and two others. Ronon grabbed the rope tied around their captive’s neck and tugged with one hand while grabbing his gun from McKay’s hand with the other.

“Thanks,” McKay panted as Ronon shot the other two creatures. “But, Pythagorean numbers? Seriously?”

“Duck,” Ronon said, and shot two more creatures slithering down the tree behind McKay’s head.

Ignoring McKay’s jibes, he turned around, looking for Sheppard. The man was nowhere to be seen. Ronon let out a small frustrated grunt. “Where’d Sheppard go?”

McKay’s eyes widened, looking around. Ronon shot another creature to his left. “He was right over there. I swear!”

Ronon didn’t even answer, turning to run to where Sheppard had been. There wasn’t a sign of him. McKay was limping after him, pulling a Life Signs Detector from his vest.

Movement behind him. Ronon heard the crack of one stick and spun, already firing. Two more opponents stunned.

McKay was too busy fiddling with the device . . . in the middle of a clearing. Ronon had no idea what kind of weapons these creatures had, but he did know that he was feeling a little sluggish. The fight shouldn’t have tired him out, but he felt bone weary, lethargic. Especially in his gun hand . . . of course, the bite.

He cursed silently, pulling McKay out of the clearing and towards the brush, hoping they were going in the same direction Sheppard had gone.

Then McKay stopped, stumbling as Ronon continued to tug. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Ronon asked, still tugging.

Then it felt like stack of bricks had fallen on him. Ronon crumpled to the ground under the weight of it. He was having trouble breathing. Something was wrapping itself around his chest. Ronon tugged at the snake-creature ineffectively. Once they got a hold, they would be deadly. No wonder Sheppard looked like he was in so much pain.

“Oh my god.” McKay was above him, clearly panicking.

“Shoot it!” Ronon gasped out.

McKay fumbled with his holster. Then Ronon let go, closing his eyes. McKay was a horrible shot.

Then the familiar discharge of gun firing, and liquid spreading across his chest. But instead of the pinch of a bullet wound, he felt a great release of pressure in his chest.

McKay bent down to try to help him as he struggled to get free.

“Keep watch!” Ronon growled. He could get out of this himself.

McKay nodded. Spinning around frantically, handgun held out in front of him.

It took a lot of effort, more energy than he could really afford right now, to hoist the creature’s body off himself, but in a minute Ronon was on his feet and he and McKay were once again on the road.

“Um . . about earlier . . . when I said ‘oh shit,’” McKay panted between huge gasping breaths.

“Yeah?”

McKay thrust the Life Sign’s Detector into Ronon’s hand. The screen was covered in blinking white dots. Clearly, these particular creatures were less into spectacle than Ronon had suspected. There were far more of them than Ronon had seen, and he could guess that they were watching them from up in the trees.

“Run,” Ronon said, watching the two little dots that they represented escape the large cluster of dots that represented the creatures, who seemed rather slow, all things considered. Unless they weren’t making an effort to pursue them. Maybe they were afraid of the guns. Or maybe Sheppard was really all they originally wanted. He still had hands, after all.

Regardless of what the creatures were doing, they needed to regroup. Ronon was losing all feeling in his right arm and had to switch his gun to his left and McKay was still limping badly. Teyla would definitely be back with some sort of help by now. Perhaps they needed to concentrate on finding a way to contact her.

They reached a rise, where Ronon had to help McKay, panting up. He was stumbling more, but kept looking over his shoulder, maybe frightened of pursuers, maybe looking for Sheppard.

At the top of the rise, tucked neatly into a stony hillside, hidden by moss and large terrestrial ferns, appeared to be a sort-of crevasse, like a cave. Ronon would prefer something less obvious, as this was really the only trail out of the small valley the village was located in, but looking at McKay wheezing beside him, he knew this would have to be it. They still had the life signs detector to spot attackers.

Ronon dragged McKay inside.

The first time Ronon knew he was special was when he was ten and Kell had come to see him wrestle. He’d broken Wes Vitual’s right arm just to prove to him how special it was. His father was so proud of him.

Ronon stretched out a little, watching Cadman put herself through the paces. Was this the thing that Earth women did to tell men they liked them? Contorted their bodies into a thousand different positions and forced you to imagine them doing that naked?

He was staring.

Cadman smirked. “Aren’t you gonna stretch?”

Ronon flexed his shoulder muscles. “I’m stretched.”

Cadman shrugged. “You’re either ridiculously limber or a real masochist.”

“What’s that?” He’d thought he’d heard McKay call Sheppard that once on a mission. Maybe it was some sort of flirtation he was unaware of.

“It’s when someone enjoys being in pain.”

“It’s sexual, right?”

Cadman paused, still sitting on the floor gripping her heel. She laughed. “It can be. Of course then you have to add the sadism.”

“Sadism?”

“Taking pleasure from giving someone else pain.”

Ronon thought about that, thought about the first time he and Sheppard had sex, about how Sheppard urged him onwards even when afterward Ronon saw blood. Of course he gave the man the dignity of ignoring it, but he’d wondered.

“So Sheppard is one of these masochists, then?”

Cadman laughed again. “I don’t think it’d be wise for me to talk about my superior officer like that. Why’d you ask? Did Rodney tell you that?”

“No. It’s just that he seems to like it rough.”

Cadman stood, turning suddenly serious. “Okay, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just tell me that.”

“I thought you already knew.” She was the one that’d brought McKay into it.

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I do know. Why do you think Rodney’s so jumpy around me? But the point is that I can’t let anybody know I know.”

These people were so strange sometimes. “Okay. But you don’t have to whisper. Sheppard told me this room is soundproof.”

Cadman looked around suspiciously. “Okay. So spill already.”

“Spill what?” Ronon looked around for water or something.

“What’s going on between you and Colonel Sheppard?”

Ronon thought about it. “I don’t know.”

“Are you dating?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to talk about it.” Not so much that he wasn’t supposed to as that he didn’t want to. Men didn’t talk about this kind of thing.

Cadman laughed, punching his arm lightly. He hoped she had to do more than that to pass military training. “C’mon, Ronon. I could teach you a thing or two about relationships.”

“Sheppard’s my commander. That’s our relationship.”

“He’s my commander too. But I have no idea how rough he likes it.”

“I’m his favored Disciplulus,” Ronon said proudly.

“Student?” Cadman guessed.

“The one with whom he shares his bed.”

“Ahhh . . . no wonder Rodney’s been looking so mopey. I wish he would just talk to me . . .”

“It is the best man that wins the approval of his Erus.” Ronon shrugged. “McKay was favored before I came and showed Sheppard what a real warrior can do.”

“No, Ronon, I think you’ve got it all wrong. You know you’re just the rebound guy, don’t you?” Cadman said casually, stretching down to her toes with a flexibility Ronon always wished he had. If he had one physical failing, he’d have to say that flexibility was it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that after you break up with someone, you feel really weak and emotionally needy, so you find the nearest body within your standards and you jump it, to prove something.”

Ronon liked Cadman and all. She was smart and athletic and she told him the facts without fucking around too much. But she really had problems understanding him. It wasn’t like he really wanted much more than that. “So what? He’s with me, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but the second he’s ready to forgive Rodney, it’s going to be ‘bye-bye Side-Show Bob’ for you.”

“Who told you that?”

“Rodney. It is oddly appropriate though . . .”

Ronon growled.

Cadman lifted her hands appeasingly. “Okay, okay, sensitive. Look, I’m just trying to help. You know what happens to the rebound guy? The rebound guy gets really good desperate sex for a week or two and then it either gets disgusting and self-destructive or it stops, a lot of times so the person can get back together with their ex.”

Good sex, huh? “That’s not going to happen.”

“And what makes you say that?”

“It’s not.” Sheppard wanted him. There was no longer this ridiculous sense of loyalty to McKay. Sheppard would see who was obviously better, stronger, faster, less of an annoying arrogant . . . what did Cadman say? “McKay’s an asshole.” Ronon didn’t have much faith in the fairness of the universe, but he had faith in Sheppard’s ability to judge. He wouldn’t follow him otherwise.

“He’s an asshole that Sheppard just happens to be in love with.” She said it like she was talking down to him. A lot of people here talked down to him like that. Ronon tolerated it. Mostly.

“So what if he is?” It wasn’t like it mattered.

Cadman sighed, standing from the split she was doing. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Ronon grumbled. It wasn’t like he needed her. McKay, maybe, but Ronon? All he had to do was flex his chest muscles and half the base would swoon. And now he had the most beautiful, amazing, honorable man around in his bed. What did Cadman know? Nothing. She knew nothing.

“I mean, if you want to know what I really think, Ronon . . .” He didn’t seem to remember asking for that. In fact, he asked for just the opposite. Women – most needed to get their hearing checked. “I really think you should look out for yourself. The colonel loves Rodney. And Rodney’d do anything for the man. I felt it. Even if I couldn’t feel it in his thoughts, I could feel it in his body. You shouldn’t mess with that kind of love.”

“And what would you know about that?” Ronon snapped. Cadman didn’t understand men. She couldn’t. That so-called ‘feeling’ was probably just the urge to strip a guy naked and fuck him up against the wall. A woman could never understand that kind of need.

Cadman rolled her eyes as she finished tightening her boxing gloves. “Let’s just practice, okay?”

“Sure.” That was all he’d wanted from the beginning.

The first time Ronon prayed was the day he woke up in the Wraith cocoon, hearing vague screams through the cobwebs that blurred his vision, the stifling blue lights, the hum of the ship like a heartbeat. When that clawed blue hand came towards his chest he told the gods that he’d do anything to escape this. After two weeks of running he knew he’d never try to strike a deal with them again.

McKay sat back against the wall of the cave, jumping forward when some of the moisture running down the rock soaked through his shirt. “Oh, great, now not only do I have a broken ankle and a chronic case of pursuit-by-hostile-natives, but now I get to be wet and cold and possibly infected by alien fungus as well!”

Ronon laughed to himself, cradling his right arm close and wiggling his fingers, just to make sure he still could. He still had control, though everything felt vague and fuzzy, like he was moving wearing Ewedle-skin gloves. What was the word Sheppard had used to describe this behavior of pretending to have illnesses one did not actually have? Hypoglycemia? That must’ve been it. It was a word McKay used a lot. It certainly wasn’t something to be proud of, in Ronon’s opinion.

“There’s so many of them,” McKay said, suddenly losing all the energy behind his previous complaints. He held the Life Signs Detector against his knee, glaring at it halfheartedly.

“Teyla’s brought reinforcements,” Ronon said, sitting down beside him.

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, Teyla’s on the other end of a strange Ancient transporting device tied to a tree on the other side of the village filled with the five-thousand snake-men!”

McKay tapped his radio. “Teyla?”

There was no response.

McKay threw his hands up with a frustrated puff of air. “You see? And even if Teyla could hear us, she wouldn’t be able to find us.”

Ronon looked outside, checking on the progress of the sun. They were fast losing light. “It’s almost dusk. When night falls you can get Teyla and I can watch the village for Sheppard.”

“What good will that do? They could be punishing him for our insolence as we speak.” Something told Ronon that these creatures weren’t the type, but McKay seemed determined to working himself into bad spirits. He was worried about Sheppard.

Ronon was too, but McKay clearly needed a distraction. “You did good today.”

“Not good enough . . . if I didn’t have this stupid allergy . . .”

“Not your fault.”

“Yeah, well, I suppose genius does have its price.” Then he seemed to brighten. “I did beat those guys though. I mean, the closest I’ve ever been to an arena was Mortal Kombat on my . . . never mind. And did you see how I took that second one out?”

“By falling?”

McKay stuck his chin out defiantly. “Strategic body slam.”

“So you meant to ‘break’ your ankle?”

“See? I told you it was broken. Speaking of which . . . how’s your snakebite? Do you want me to check it?”

Ronon attempted a shrug, but only one of his arms cooperated.

McKay’s eyes narrowed. “That venom is poisonous, isn’t it?”

Ronon didn’t bother denying it.

“Oh my god, they’re going to use their venom of death to poison us and then we’re going to be awake and paralyzed while they eat us alive! Thank god I didn’t drink that stuff. It could’ve been a huge dose . . . good thing you’re too dumb to get the concept of triangles.”

Ronon glared, but didn’t say anything He’d failed. He’d failed and now Sheppard was out there having some unimaginable horror done to him. Ronon hung his head. He’d failed. He’d failed even though he’d done everything his father had told him he needed to do to be a good soldier.

McKay must’ve finally noticed his dejected look because suddenly he was sputtering awkwardly, seeming to retreat further against the cold cave wall. “Oh . . . no, I didn’t mean. I mean, yes triangles are a little simple for a genius like me, or anyone with a high school diploma really, but I really do mean that it’s good that you didn’t get that right, because in retrospect, I was right about not taking drinks from strangers. I mean, what would I have done without you? I can take down two snake-men, sure. But I couldn’t have fought my way out of there. There’s a reason that guys like me get beat up on playgrounds, after all . . .”

Ronon frowned. “On our playground, they used to make fun of me for being stupid.”

He’d never told anyone that before. It wasn’t something that warriors discussed on Sateda. But McKay was as far from a warrior as anyone Ronon had ever met in his adult life. He was of a class that Ronon would never mix with on his own world. And, yes, he was strange, and more annoying than a whole flock of Fleckerings during mating season, but he had an honesty about him that Ronon admired. For all of his education, he wasn’t a politician, which was so different from Sateda.

McKay looked away, as unsure as Ronon was in this unfamiliar territory. “Did you beat them up?”

Ronon shook his head. “On my world, intelligence was highly valued and rewarded. It would not be worth the beating I would’ve received from both my parents and the schoolmaster.”

McKay smiled sadly. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

Ronon laughed at that. McKay would not have fit in there. He was too honest for an educated man, and yet would never have been a soldier. He was a creature all his own. “You would’ve liked the food. Better than steak, even.”

McKay smiled, teeth looking unnaturally white in the dwindling light.

“It’s getting dark,” McKay said, realizing at the same time Ronon realized it.

“Yes, it is. These creatures see worse at night, right?” He remembered once hearing about how jungle cats could see well at night to stalk their prey, and these creatures had yellow cat-like eyes.

McKay frowned. “Actually, I have no idea. I was never so interested in the squishy sciences.”

“Me either.” Ronon wasn’t interested in any of the sciences. “Do you think we should head around, then?”

“Well, whatever we’re going to do . . . we have to do it soon. John didn’t look so good and I couldn’t live with myself if . . .” McKay’s voice trailed off, his eyes seeming to go glassy.

Ronon put a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. “You care for him deeply.”

McKay seemed to bite back a sarcastic remark. “Yes. I do,” he said, pointedly.

Even though he respected McKay’s care, he would not bow to it. He did not regret his relationship with Sheppard for a second. “He is a special man. A good commander.”

McKay looked down at his hands. “I can’t blame you for going for it . . . we broke up, which is all my own fault anyhow. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Ronon smiled a little at the fire in McKay’s voice, the challenge. “What is it Sheppard always says when we both want his extra chocolate bar?”

“May the best man win?”

“Yeah.”

And the best man would. Ronon would. Because he always did.

“And whatever happens, no hard feelings,” McKay said sadly, giving Ronon’s knee an awkward pat.

“Yeah.”

Ronon met McKay’s eyes. They were deep blue and penetrating, easy to read, even if Ronon wasn’t anywhere close to genius. He could see the sincerity in them.

Then McKay broke the gaze to look back down at his hands, which happened to be holding the Life Signs Detector. “Shit!”

“What?”

“There’s someone headed this way.”

Ronon looked down at the device. The dot was moving quite slowly.

“It looks like one of the creatures. Maybe they want to negotiate.”

“Or it’s a scout.”

McKay drew his gun, then looked down. “It’s moving really slowly. You know, maybe now that we’ve . . . you know, bonded and all that, and since we’re probably going to die a horrible death of poisoning or asphyxiation or pneumonia . . .”

Ronon wasn’t used to people, but even if he was, he didn’t think he’d know where this was going. He certainly wouldn’t have expected McKay to kiss him. But he did.

“You’re full of surprises,” Ronon said. He was being pretty fair, after all, McKay’s panic seemed genuine and there wasn’t much point in punching the man out – he might be needed to do something . . . technical, later on.

“Is that a yes?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay, then. Do you know any good games . . . because I’d rather not, you know, think about our impending doom.” He looked back down at the dot, moving steadily closer.

“We’re not going to die,” Ronon said, unsheathing his knife – the big one.

The first and only time Ronon gave up was after he spent a single night in a welcoming village where a soft bed and a warm meal cost 79 people their lives. He painted his chest with the ritual markings and sharpened his best knife, but, for some reason, he stopped. He still sometimes wonders why he did.

Ronon tried not to look surprised when Sheppard showed up on his doorstep. They’d been sleeping together for weeks now, but the last time Sheppard had visited his quarters was back when he was trying to convince Ronon to join his team.

“Uh . . . hi,” he said. It wasn’t smooth or romantic or anything like that. As an elite member of the infantry, he never had to be any of those things. The image alone did it for him.

“Hi,” Sheppard grinned – that mischievous grin that was usually only reserved for McKay. He stepped into Ronon’s room without asking for permission, as was his right as Ronon’s Commander and now as his Erus. Ronon smiled. Sheppard was finally taking his right.

Sheppard seemed to look around Ronon’s room, scrutinizing it. There wasn’t much to look at. Except Ronon’s bed was unmade in such a way that his taskmaster would’ve given him a grave beating for. But then again, Sheppard’s own bed was rarely made. For the first time in his life, Ronon felt as though he ought to have more possessions. On Sateda, they were considered unnecessary, a burden to a soldier, and a privilege that would only serve to distance him from his men. But Sheppard seemed to be expecting something more.

Ronon decided to distract him by pushing him up against the wall and kissing him. Sheppard kissed back but it was more hesitant than usual.

“What?” Ronon asked.

“Well, as nice as this is . . . I brought over a movie.” He held up his laptop. “I thought . . . ‘hey, I keep telling Ronon about movies and TV, but he’s never seen ‘Alien.’ That’s just a crime against humanity.’”

“Alien?” Was this one of those propaganda screens? Something to show the horror that men would face on the battlefield from the Wraith? Because surely, Sheppard wouldn’t disrespect him with something like that.

“It’s a movie . . . you know, for fun? These guys are really creepy. And you’ll like Ripley . . . she’s hot – with guns. Rodney doesn’t like it . . . says it’s for brain-dead morons with a gun fetish, but I like it. Wanna watch?”

“Okay,” Ronon said . . . unsure about this Ripley woman. Should he be wearing his gun?

“Great,” Sheppard smiled, patting Ronon on the arm and bending down to plug the computer in. Sheppard had an amazing ass. It was hard to let him just bend over like that without doing something to him. Luckily, years of running had graced Ronon with a good deal of restraint.

Sheppard propped up the screen – some text, which Ronon still couldn’t read.

“That’s just the name of the company that made it,” Sheppard said, motioning for Ronon to sit on the bed and climbing in beside him.

Was this the part where they were supposed to have sex?

The screen darkened. Ronon put his arm around Sheppard and drew him in for a kiss.

Sheppard kissed him lightly, without any of the usual demand. “You’ll like this. I promise,” he assured.

Ronon was not so sure. But he trusted Sheppard, so he sat back, watching this Ripley woman on the screen having meaningless conflicts with the other people. She must be one of these space bimbos that McKay kept jealously accusing Sheppard of being interested in. Frankly, Ronon didn’t see the threat. As well-muscled as she was, she was just a dot on the screen.

He leaned in further toward Sheppard, taking in a deep breath of his scent. Sheppard smelled fresh, unlike any of the warriors on Sateda. He was tough in the field. He was a good commander – a great strategist in a way that Ronon would never fully understand – but sometimes he conducted himself the way a soft-one would . . . like a prostitute. Ronon would wonder about it, if it weren’t so sexy. Men weren’t supposed to smell this good. And only prostitutes were ever this pretty. He couldn’t get enough.

Ronon couldn’t help himself. The Ripley woman was panicking over something. Why didn’t she just shoot it? He leaned over to kiss Sheppard, and this time, he didn’t resist. The kiss was deep and passionate as always, but slower this time – like they had time. Ronon found himself liking it. Even the prostitutes on Siteda were always in a rush.

He let his hand trail down Sheppard’s warm, warm belly, soft but muscled at the same time. A soft-one in so many ways, but then there was this raw need boiling beneath. Sometimes it burned him, it was so intense, and he wondered what he was doing such a strange creature as Sheppard at all.

Then he found a warmth even greater, heavy and solid and gradually becoming familiar in his hand. He reached for this zipper thing, that really was so much easier than the laces on his own attire, when Sheppard sat up, pushing Ronon away. “Oh, you’re going to miss it . . . this is a really good part.”

Ronon looked down at his rapidly hardening groin and said, “What?”

“Shhh. Look at this,” Sheppard whispered.

Ronon looked at the screen. Some worm thing popped out of a guy’s stomach.

Sheppard jumped back, exclaiming. “That’s so great. Gets me every time.” Ronon didn’t see how the man could go after a Wraith, bury it in bullets without so much as a flinch, then jump at some plastic looking thing on a flat screen.

“Okay,” he said.

Sheppard settled back against him, intertwining their legs. “Isn’t this movie cool?”

“Sure.”

Ronon decided that this must be what Cadman meant by masochism.

The first time Ronon saw the ocean was when he was three. He cried and cried looking out at its heartless vastness. It seemed infinite, uncrossable, unbeatable, more frightening even than the stories his father told him about the Wraith. His father spanked him until he shut up.

The dot was almost upon them now.

McKay was shaking, holding his gun out in front of him. Ronon ignored him, his own weapon ready, muscles poised and ready to spring. He was used to this – the familiar calm of the warrior settling down over all the nerves and the ‘what ifs.’ If it was a fight, he wasn’t worried. If the thing wanted to negotiate, he and McKay might make as big a blunder out of it as they did the last time.

Then the figure rounded the corner and Ronon had a gun to its throat and . . .

“Sheppard.” He released him.

“Ronon?” Sheppard gasped. “Did your mother never tell you not to jump out at your commanding officers like that?”

“No, that was my father,” Ronon said.

Sheppard laughed, clutching his side reflexively.

“John, are you okay?” McKay said, stepping out of the shadows.

Sheppard winced, still not moving his hand from his side. “Cracked ribs. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Ronon grunted his approval, handing Sheppard one of his guns.

McKay was less believing. “Yeah, right, Colonel. You look like death warmed over. Maybe you should let me look at that,. For all we know, you’re bleeding internally, going to keel over any moment . . . oh my god, I don’t think I’d know what to do if you . . .”

“Rodney. Rodney, calm down,” Sheppard said, moving his hand from his side so he could grip both of Rodney’s shoulders and smiling a small half-smile that he’d never given Ronon before. “I’m fine. Now, let’s get out of here, okay?”

McKay took in large gasping breaths but nodded, only to have his slight smile fold into a pissed-off frown. “And how do you propose we get through the village of angry snake-men to the transport device?”

Sheppard grinned and pulled a small silver disk out of his pocket.

“How did you . . .” McKay gaped.

Sheppard just winked, tossing him the device.

As McKay examined it for damage, Sheppard stepped up next to Ronon. “Actually, it caught on my belt as one of the creatures was pulling me up a tree. I thought that I wanted down and I was on the ground.”

“Good one. Why don’t you think us back now?”

Sheppard gave a strained smile. “Smart man, Ronon.”

Ronon couldn’t help but smile a little at that. He still had his Erus’s favor.

Sheppard held out the device and Ronon and McKay gripped it. Then there was a bright flash and . . .

“Colonel!” Teyla exclaimed. “It is good to see you! When we could not reach Ronon and Dr. McKay by radio we became concerned.”

“We’re fine, Teyla,” Sheppard said, patting her arm. “If a little worse for the wear. What do you say we all leave this planet and the snake-people behind?”

“Thank god,” McKay said, already dialing the gate.

In truth, Ronon would be glad to get back. He was becoming concerned himself, about the numbness in his arm. Luckily, he had not known a doctor more competent than Dr. Beckett (not that Ronon knew many true doctors, all those provided to the infantry were good at battle-wounds and not much else).

He stepped through the wormhole behind McKay and Sheppard to find Dr. Beckett already waiting for them on the other side. He looked from one of them to the other, offering the waiting gurney to McKay after noticing the obvious limp, but to Ronon’s surprise, he waved him away. “Sheppard’s got himself a host of cracked ribs. You should look at him.”

Beckett raised his eyebrows in surprise, but quickly turned his gaze on Sheppard, who was quickly trying to deny it. Ronon could understand. No commander wanted to be off his feet in front of his men unless it was a mortal wound. A leader needed to show his advantage.

But then McKay squeezed Sheppard’s arm and said. “Please. If you hurt yourself more by being a prideful masochistic idiot, I may never forgive you.”

Sheppard laughed at this, immediately clasping a hand to his chest, which set Beckett clucking and fussing to get him onto the gurney.

Ronon let McKay use him as a crutch on their walk. It wasn’t far, but Ronon was definitely feeling the effects of something because it seemed to take far longer and much more effort than it should have.

When they reached it, they both collapsed down onto beds. McKay looked ready to demand some attention when Beckett emerged from an adjoining room.

“We’ve got him in X-ray right now,” he explained. “But I don’t anticipate any complications.”

“Yes, I’m sure those bird entrails you were examining to determine this were very thorough.”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “Now, now, Rodney. I am going to be handling that ankle of yours. Best not insult your doctor.”

McKay didn’t seem worried in the slightest by the threat. Strangely, he seemed to shake and run from everything else. “Actually, I think my ankle can wait. Side-show Bob, over there got bit by one of the snakes he was trying to charm.”

Beckett raised his eyebrows. “Ronon, is this true?”

Ronon nodded.

“You have got to tell me about these things, lad,” he said. “There is nothin’ weak in it.” He pulled a pair of gloves and grabbed some swabs and cleaning equipment. “Are you finding it hard to breathe? Pain or numbness around the wound?” His fingers probed gently, not that Ronon could tell that much.

“Numbness.”

“How bad?”

“Just the arm.”

“How quickly after the bugger bit you?”

Ronon shrugged. “A few minutes.”

“Has it been spreading or getting worse?”

“Not much.”

Becket took the swab coated in blood from the wound and placed it in a container. “We’ll run some tests on this.” He pulled out a needle. “And I’ll need a blood sample. But hopefully the effect is temporary. What about you, Rodney?”

While Beckett finished with the blood sample and cleaning the wound, McKay related the story of his great match against the snake-men, exaggerating it completely. Ronon did him the favor of not correcting him.

“All done now.” Beckett yanked the gloves off with a snap just as a nurse was wheeling Sheppard back in.

“Hey guys,” he smiled, still looking dangerously pale. Someone had already attached him to one of those bag things with liquid in it.

“Let me just go check on your X-rays, Colonel. Don’t let Ronon sneak out of here while I’m away. We still need to keep an eye on him.”

“He’s not going to leave,” Sheppard said wearily, meeting Ronon’s eyes in the way that always made him smile.

But the second Beckett left the room, Sheppard didn’t hug Ronon, or ask him if he was okay or thank him even. Instead, he stood creakily, making his way over to McKay’s bed and collapsing into a tight but awkward hug.

“Oh, god, Rodney, I’m so sorry,” Sheppard said into McKay’s neck. It was strange and choked and not at all what Ronon would expect from a proud warrior like him. And what was stranger was that Sheppard had nothing to apologize for. In fact, McKay hadn’t even done anything to apologize for the trust he betrayed. Nothing had changed, and yet, Sheppard was hugging McKay like he’d never let go.

“Me too, John. Me too. I should never have . . . I don’t know what I can do to make it up to you, but I’ll do it. I’ll earn your trust back. I swear. Please, just don’t . . .” McKay’s voice broke off as he looked pointedly at Ronon.

Sheppard didn’t even turn around to see what McKay was looking at. “I won’t. You know it’s going to take me a while to trust you again, professionally, but I was wrong to use our personal relationship to punish you.” But how was McKay supposed to earn trust back without making it personal? That’s what trust was, wasn’t it? The bond between Erus and Disciplulus.

“So you still love me?” McKay’s voice was weak, shaky.

“Of course I do.”

Ronon was beginning to feel awkward. But the doctor had told him not to leave. What should he do?

“And you fought for me . . . that has to count for something,” Sheppard said playfully, forehead touching McKay’s.

Ronon had fought for him too. But then again, that was his job.

And then, just in time to stop him from watching Sheppard and McKay kiss, the good doctor was back and rolling his eyes in the exact way Ronon wanted to.

“Back together again, so I see? I guess I’ll probably be seeing a lot more of this in the future.” He heaved a put on sigh. “Now, if you would please . . . stop doing that, Rodney, so I can wrap the colonel’s ribs? Nothing needs to be set, but I don’t want to take any chances with the two of you involved.”

Sheppard pulled back, chastised but not particularly embarrassed and submitted to another examination with a sigh.

“So, the best man won,” McKay said, under his breath, knowing full well that Ronon could hear. “No hard feelings?”

And maybe he was right. Maybe McKay was the best man for Sheppard, after all. But he was still a mostly-spineless, loud, annoying, what was it? ‘Geek,’ who could neither run, shoot, nor fight. Ronon took solace in that.

He took a small menacing step forward. McKay flinched.

Ronon and Sheppard shared a small conspiratorial laugh at the ensuing glare.

Beckett nodded to the nurse who’d brought Sheppard in as she came back with a chair on wheels. “Your turn, Rodney.”

McKay made a lot of show and grumbling of standing and getting into the wheelchair. Sheppard just smiled adoringly at that.

“Oh . . . I forgot the tape. I’ll just be a moment,” Beckett said, standing and scurrying off somewhere.

Sheppard watched him go, then said, “So . . . thanks.”

“For what?”

“For rushing in to try to save the day? For making sure that Rodney didn’t try to do something stupid and heroic? For . . .” Sheppard fell silent, looking suddenly shy in a way that Ronon had never seen him. He was casual sometimes, even clumsy or confused, but Ronon had never seen Sheppard so unsure.

“For what?”

“For . . . understanding . . . for being there . . . for watching ‘Alien’ with me.” Sheppard chuckled. “Even if you totally didn’t get the scary parts.”

True, but it was worth it for the great sex afterwards. “You did threaten to make me watch another one.”

Sheppard’s smile lit the room up. “Oh, the second one’s even better. You’ll really be scared this time. I swear.”

“Sure.”

“Hey, I’m really sorry . . .”

“Don’t be,” Ronon said, trying not to sound disappointed. In fact, if he had to put a finger on the emotion, it would be shock. “What your people think about aliens is pretty funny.”

Sheppard’s smile was softer this time, a bit sympathetic, a little regretful.

Then they heard McKay in the distance yelling at the nurse . . . something about how she was trying to make him permanently lame.

Ronon rolled his eyes. “You sure you want to be stuck with that?”

Sheppard shrugged, grinning. “Love might be blind, but it’s not exactly fair.”

The first time Ronon really understood what love was, was when John Sheppard dumped him for an annoying scientist with a horrible case of egotism as well as hypoglycemia and a penchant for blowing up solar systems. He’d wanted it ever since.