"The Ties That Bind" (3/6)
Nov. 28th, 2007 03:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kristen999Title: “The Ties that Bind” (3/6) Gen
Author: Kristen999
Character(s): Ronon and Sheppard Friendship
Genre(s): Stargate Atlantis: Some drama, action and h/c.
Rating: T
Words: 21,000 total –2300 this section
Spoilers: Season 4 “Reunion”
Summary: Ronon asks Sheppard to join him on a dangerous search unaware that some answers are gained in the journey.
Notes: This is all from Ronon's POV, but a study of their interesting friendship. There were a few things from “Reunion” that I thought needed further exploration. For some reason this was a tough nut to crack, but I enjoyed doing so.
This is complete, updates will be every other day as I tweak things.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
everybetty for her invaluable beta service, poking and prodding me until this was my best effort. Also to rednz for her wonderful encouragement and fast as lightening suggestions.
Previous Chapters
----------------------------
Ronon breaks the first guy's jaw, dislocating the lower hinge sideways. He stays in constant motion—dodging and ducking swings without conscious thought. His hands strike quickly causing his knuckles to pop and swell more with every furious contact.
Another thug looms in front of him, this one already oozing blood from a split lip. Ronon takes him out with another blow to his already damaged face.
This leaves bad guys one, two and three circling like rabid animals. He keeps his eye on each of them and goes low when the trio attacks at once. He sweeps his leg under one set of boots, tripping the guy to his right. The other two jump on top of him, their fists striking his face, shoulders and back.
He protects his middle and torso, letting them waste energy on wild throws. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Sheppard twist and break a man’s arm. Ronon needs to take his guys out. The colonel is agile, avoiding heavier and clumsier tactics, but his opponents outweigh him and brute strength can overpower the best defense.
Ronon waits, allowing his enemies to tire, his body enduring six sets of pounding fists. He doesn't feel any pain, adrenaline overwhelming any nerve functions. He allows the fire burning in his belly to reach critical mass and explodes from his protective crouch.
He head butts the middle foe and knees the guy in the groin, taking him out of the equation. The thug who fell for his leg sweep pulls out a knife; the metal slices the air where his face had been seconds before. He grabs the guy's wrist, bends it back and pulls the blade from loose fingers before burying it deeply in the screaming man's belly.
The biggest mercenary reminds him of the Hulk guy from that bad movie. The looming figure spits blood from his mouth and rubs at a spot on his massive square head before pulling out a knife from the folds of his jacket. Ronon is fast, knocking it away and slugging the beefy brute in the stomach. The punch has little effect but that doesn't stop him from delivering two more blows to the guy's face; it feels like hitting concrete.
Hands grab him, pulling back his arms and pinning them high behind his back.
“This is going to be fun,” the Hulk laughs, slugging Ronon in the head until his ears ring.
The Hulk's buddy twists Ronon's arms harder until his shoulder blades grind together. To his side he hears the sound of a body thrown into a wall. Ronon watches as a goon pins Sheppard against the stone slate while the other thug punishes the pilot's ribs with brutal blows.
Two of the colonel's bad guys are unconscious on the ground and that makes Ronon smile despite their predicament.
“What are you grinning about?” the Hulk asks, shaking his sore fingers.
Blood drips from Ronon's nose and the warm stickiness has him smiling even more. “Just thinking how unfair things are going to be for you now.”
The colonel dodges a blow aimed at his face; the bad guy smashes his hand into the wall instead. It's the opening Sheppard needs and he takes advantage of the situation by jabbing the giant holding him against the wall in the eyes. The thug stumbles off balance only briefly before grabbing the pilot by his tac vest and throwing him to the ground with a thud.
No one beats on Ronon's CO like that and gets away with it.
Ronon lunges forward, straightening out his arms from their knotted pretzel positions. With his limbs free, he elbows the bad guy behind him in the throat then slugs the Hulk in front of him. He spins around and kicks the mercenary clawing at his larynx in the chin, sending him into oblivion.
The Hulk is bruised and bleeding from a gash in his eyebrow. “You’re dead,” he spits, pulling out a gun.
Ronon should have known that Turesh's men could never keep to a fair fight. “Coward,” he growls.
“No, I just know what it takes to win,” the thug says.
Ronon is a large warrior but his greatest weapon is speed. He rushes his enemy and they struggle for the weapon. While grappling for the gun he sees Lars sneak in and grab the discarded P-90 from the ground before disappearing back into the shadows.
“Sheppard!” he shouts.
“A little busy!” the colonel growls back.
Ronon succeeds in knocking the weapon out of his opponent's hand. The colonel has less luck as he vies for a knife with his bad guy, unaware that his other foe has struggled to his feet and rushes after the pilot with a huge chunk of rock.
“Sheppard!” Ronon warns.
The Hulk tackles him, but he stays on his feet. Ronon grapples for control, ears straining for the noises of life and death a few feet away.
He recognizes the sound of metal stabbing flesh... hears a startled cry and gurgle of blood. Fury and fear rage through his body and he slams the beast of a man to the ground, twisting his neck in a single snap.
He jumps up, ready for revenge, but his eyes widen at the sight of a thug on the ground with a knife sticking out of his chest. Sheppard wavers unsteadily on his feet, but is very much alive.
All eight bad guys are dead or out for the count.
Ronon staggers over towards the colonel. “Guess you didn't need my help.”
“Nope, always enjoy a good ass kicking,” the colonel laughs.
Ronon snorts; his friend looks like he took as much of a beating as he gave out. “Lars stole your P90.”
The colonel holds his right shoulder, face grimacing in obvious pain. “You think Turesh can make more of them?”
“Yeah, if you give him enough time.”
“We can't allow that... can't arm a bunch of people with automatic weapons,” Sheppard grunts, cradling his arm.
Ronon's eyes narrow. “You mess up your shoulder?”
“Not sure,” Sheppard replies. “Doesn't matter, we need to go after 'em.”
The pain lines of Sheppard's face and his slow methodical movements betray his injury. Ronon grips the man's shoulder and the colonel howls in pain, nearly falling over in his haste to get away from the touch.
“It’s dislocated.”
Sheppard draws a ragged breath. “Think it's broken, actually.”
“How'd you do that?”
“Guy wanted to crack my skull open with a hunk of rock. I ducked and he bashed my shoulder instead.”
Ronon's going to have to work with the colonel on that in their next sparring session. He thinks quickly, looking around. “I'll go after Lars, get the gun back and grab you on the way out,” he explains, already looking for things to tie up the group of unconscious men.
“No! I'm goin' with you,” Sheppard protests, but slumps against the wall after getting up too fast and jarring his shoulder.
“You'll slow me down and you can't get into a fight,” Ronon rebukes, cutting pieces of rope he's found in the corner and tyeing up the hands of the mercenaries. Once he's secured the last prisoner, he pulls out his blaster. “I'll be quick.”
“Ronon.”
“The longer we argue the less of a chance I'll find him.”
He can tell Sheppard doesn't like it, but the colonel nods reluctantly. “Fine. Keep in contact with me every five minutes.”
“Okay.” Ronon hesitates, taking in the amount of unconscious prisoners.
The colonel senses his concern, pulling out his Glock with his left hand. “I also have my Beretta and extra clips. Don't worry about the eight dwarves here.”
Ronon hesitates. He doesn't like splitting up, especially if Sheppard's hurt, but they can't let someone as ruthless as Turesh get away with advanced weaponry. “You should bind that shoulder.”
“Just be careful.”
Ronon nods, his heart pounding again with another release of endorphins. “You too.”
He heads off after the lying, scamming trader.
He doesn't tell Sheppard that Turesh is fair game if he finds him, knowing deep inside the colonel is well aware of this.
-------------------
The underground complex is a looming set of tunnels created in search of ore. Ronon's eyes adjust to the lack of light, but it's still difficult to keep from tripping over the uneven, rocky ground. This area has been carved out recently, greedy desires weakening the very foundation under the town.
The corridor is narrow and he has to stoop over to keep from hitting his head against the freshly chiseled out roof. He follows a set of tracks in the layer of black silt, keeping his blaster out in front of him.
What's your progress?”
“Place is bigger than I thought, but I've got a lead,” Ronon answers his com.
“Don't get lost.”
The tracks are easy to follow, but there are a lot of other tunnels and the place is a giant, dimly lit maze. Something tingles in his craw, tightening the muscles in his gut. He's getting close, he knows it.
“Going on radio silence, Ronon out,” he says tapping off his ear piece.
He's not claustrophobic, but it feels good to walk out of the tight tunnel and into another room. There is artificial light coming from the ceiling and it looks like this is an existing warehouse with a freshly dug out hallway. It wouldn't surprise him if Turesh secretly mined a series of hidden rooms like these under other businesses.
The boot treads disappear with the emergence of smooth cement floors. He searches for other exits, noting two other doors at the opposite ends. He slows his pace, sensing danger, eyes darting all over the warehouse.
Sound echoes loudly in caverns and he freezes at the cocking of a rifle.
“You're really stupid, you know that?” Lars says, pointing the P-90 at his chest.
“You were the one who left prints a child could follow,” he replies, aiming his blaster as well.
Lars must have paid close attention to the colonel’s weapon's demonstration since he holds the gun the correct way. “Maybe I did that on purpose. Ever thought of that?” He smiles, the animal skin jacket accenting the reptilian personality. “Waiting to ambush you was the plan. Now lower your gun.”
“No.” Ronon notices the perspiration roll down the man's forehead. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Don't think so. I haven't got my hands into everything in this town without getting them a little dirty. You won't be the first dead body I've buried around here.”
“No. You've left thousands on the battlegrounds. Dealing and double-crossing armies.”
“I trade information mainly, like knowing where the other Satedans are in this sector. Turesh is your main arms dealer, but I admit...I do see the profits in something like this fine weapon.”
“You're going to take the P-90 without telling him,” he says knowingly.
“Enough talking.”
Ronon bides his time, never taking his eyes off of the snake. Lars is antsy, sweat beads on his forehead and his left eye twitches. It's the only sign Ronon needs.
Lars pulls the p-90’s trigger a split second before Ronon unleashes his blaster. The gun clicks hollowly before the red bolt of energy from the blaster swallows the bar owner whole. His body stiffens, his finger twitching uselessly on the trigger before the gun falls from his hand, his stunned body following right behind.
Ronon shakes his head. “You forgot to turn off the safety.”
“He did, but I didn't.”
The deep voice ignites the raging flames of anger and Ronon spins around, his finger on the trigger. His reflexes freeze, his mind and body screaming at the mixed signals from his frantic brain.
Turesh steps forward with his arm wrapped tightly around Sheppard's throat, the muzzle of the colonel's Glock buried in the side of his head. His CO is held flush in front of the weapons dealer’s body like a shield.
“Oh. Did you forget something?” Turesh laughs, pressing the gun harder against Sheppard's skull.
“Shoot him,” the colonel gasps.
Turesh flexes his bicep to cut off the pilot's air. Sheppard sputters, his eyes bulging out a little as his face flushes from the lack of oxygen. “Lower your weapon,” Turesh orders, squeezing his arm harder.
The pilot wheezes while Turesh holds him in place, easily overpowering him. Sheppard's eyes glaze over but he fights, sending Ronon a signal to take the shot before he passes out.
“Let him go or die,” Ronon growls.
Turesh stands there, basking in the control he wields. “If you shoot me, I'll shoot him. If you screw around then he runs out of air.”
No! No! No! No! Ronon's mind screams.
The colonel's body begins to sag in the mercenary's grasp. Every fiber in Ronon’s body tells him to take the shot, but he lowers his blaster despite his CO's eyes pleading him not to.
Maybe a couple of years ago he might have obeyed. But not today.
His blaster clatters to the ground.
One of the goons from earlier arrives, aiming another gun in his direction and he knows he's lost any chance at rushing the mercenary.
Turesh grins wildly. “I never thought I'd see the day a Satedan lowered his weapon or left a soldier behind.”
The verbal jab is like a dagger to the gut and Ronon bristles, still calculating options.
“Let him go,” he demands.
“Sure.”
Turesh releases Sheppard and he collapses to the ground, gasping for breath on his hands and knees.
“This is between us,” Ronon says, trying to distract Turesh. “Let's handle this one on one.”
Turesh cocks his head in concession, glancing at the crony beside him whose pistol is still trained on him. “You're right. No need to involve anyone else.”
Ronon expects a bullet to rip open his chest and hopes he'll have enough energy to take out the murderer and give Sheppard a chance to escape. He tenses at the blur of motion but he doesn't register the aim of the gun until it's too late.
Sheppard never had a chance.
Turesh fires at the colonel's temple. The report of the gun deafens his ears and muffles the scream from his lips. The pilot slumps to the ground, blood gushing from the head wound.
Ronon can't hear, can't see—there's nothing but flashes of red and howls of grief and rage. He feels such blind pain that all the swirling colors of emotion darken to nothingness.
His mind is too busy trying to handle the overload to register the pain in the back of his head.
And then there’s nothing.
---------------------------
Chapter 4
A/N:
Thanks to the few who gave this new one a try.
Author: Kristen999
Character(s): Ronon and Sheppard Friendship
Genre(s): Stargate Atlantis: Some drama, action and h/c.
Rating: T
Words: 21,000 total –2300 this section
Spoilers: Season 4 “Reunion”
Summary: Ronon asks Sheppard to join him on a dangerous search unaware that some answers are gained in the journey.
Notes: This is all from Ronon's POV, but a study of their interesting friendship. There were a few things from “Reunion” that I thought needed further exploration. For some reason this was a tough nut to crack, but I enjoyed doing so.
This is complete, updates will be every other day as I tweak things.
Thanks to
everybetty for her invaluable beta service, poking and prodding me until this was my best effort. Also to rednz for her wonderful encouragement and fast as lightening suggestions.Previous Chapters
----------------------------
Ronon breaks the first guy's jaw, dislocating the lower hinge sideways. He stays in constant motion—dodging and ducking swings without conscious thought. His hands strike quickly causing his knuckles to pop and swell more with every furious contact.
Another thug looms in front of him, this one already oozing blood from a split lip. Ronon takes him out with another blow to his already damaged face.
This leaves bad guys one, two and three circling like rabid animals. He keeps his eye on each of them and goes low when the trio attacks at once. He sweeps his leg under one set of boots, tripping the guy to his right. The other two jump on top of him, their fists striking his face, shoulders and back.
He protects his middle and torso, letting them waste energy on wild throws. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Sheppard twist and break a man’s arm. Ronon needs to take his guys out. The colonel is agile, avoiding heavier and clumsier tactics, but his opponents outweigh him and brute strength can overpower the best defense.
Ronon waits, allowing his enemies to tire, his body enduring six sets of pounding fists. He doesn't feel any pain, adrenaline overwhelming any nerve functions. He allows the fire burning in his belly to reach critical mass and explodes from his protective crouch.
He head butts the middle foe and knees the guy in the groin, taking him out of the equation. The thug who fell for his leg sweep pulls out a knife; the metal slices the air where his face had been seconds before. He grabs the guy's wrist, bends it back and pulls the blade from loose fingers before burying it deeply in the screaming man's belly.
The biggest mercenary reminds him of the Hulk guy from that bad movie. The looming figure spits blood from his mouth and rubs at a spot on his massive square head before pulling out a knife from the folds of his jacket. Ronon is fast, knocking it away and slugging the beefy brute in the stomach. The punch has little effect but that doesn't stop him from delivering two more blows to the guy's face; it feels like hitting concrete.
Hands grab him, pulling back his arms and pinning them high behind his back.
“This is going to be fun,” the Hulk laughs, slugging Ronon in the head until his ears ring.
The Hulk's buddy twists Ronon's arms harder until his shoulder blades grind together. To his side he hears the sound of a body thrown into a wall. Ronon watches as a goon pins Sheppard against the stone slate while the other thug punishes the pilot's ribs with brutal blows.
Two of the colonel's bad guys are unconscious on the ground and that makes Ronon smile despite their predicament.
“What are you grinning about?” the Hulk asks, shaking his sore fingers.
Blood drips from Ronon's nose and the warm stickiness has him smiling even more. “Just thinking how unfair things are going to be for you now.”
The colonel dodges a blow aimed at his face; the bad guy smashes his hand into the wall instead. It's the opening Sheppard needs and he takes advantage of the situation by jabbing the giant holding him against the wall in the eyes. The thug stumbles off balance only briefly before grabbing the pilot by his tac vest and throwing him to the ground with a thud.
No one beats on Ronon's CO like that and gets away with it.
Ronon lunges forward, straightening out his arms from their knotted pretzel positions. With his limbs free, he elbows the bad guy behind him in the throat then slugs the Hulk in front of him. He spins around and kicks the mercenary clawing at his larynx in the chin, sending him into oblivion.
The Hulk is bruised and bleeding from a gash in his eyebrow. “You’re dead,” he spits, pulling out a gun.
Ronon should have known that Turesh's men could never keep to a fair fight. “Coward,” he growls.
“No, I just know what it takes to win,” the thug says.
Ronon is a large warrior but his greatest weapon is speed. He rushes his enemy and they struggle for the weapon. While grappling for the gun he sees Lars sneak in and grab the discarded P-90 from the ground before disappearing back into the shadows.
“Sheppard!” he shouts.
“A little busy!” the colonel growls back.
Ronon succeeds in knocking the weapon out of his opponent's hand. The colonel has less luck as he vies for a knife with his bad guy, unaware that his other foe has struggled to his feet and rushes after the pilot with a huge chunk of rock.
“Sheppard!” Ronon warns.
The Hulk tackles him, but he stays on his feet. Ronon grapples for control, ears straining for the noises of life and death a few feet away.
He recognizes the sound of metal stabbing flesh... hears a startled cry and gurgle of blood. Fury and fear rage through his body and he slams the beast of a man to the ground, twisting his neck in a single snap.
He jumps up, ready for revenge, but his eyes widen at the sight of a thug on the ground with a knife sticking out of his chest. Sheppard wavers unsteadily on his feet, but is very much alive.
All eight bad guys are dead or out for the count.
Ronon staggers over towards the colonel. “Guess you didn't need my help.”
“Nope, always enjoy a good ass kicking,” the colonel laughs.
Ronon snorts; his friend looks like he took as much of a beating as he gave out. “Lars stole your P90.”
The colonel holds his right shoulder, face grimacing in obvious pain. “You think Turesh can make more of them?”
“Yeah, if you give him enough time.”
“We can't allow that... can't arm a bunch of people with automatic weapons,” Sheppard grunts, cradling his arm.
Ronon's eyes narrow. “You mess up your shoulder?”
“Not sure,” Sheppard replies. “Doesn't matter, we need to go after 'em.”
The pain lines of Sheppard's face and his slow methodical movements betray his injury. Ronon grips the man's shoulder and the colonel howls in pain, nearly falling over in his haste to get away from the touch.
“It’s dislocated.”
Sheppard draws a ragged breath. “Think it's broken, actually.”
“How'd you do that?”
“Guy wanted to crack my skull open with a hunk of rock. I ducked and he bashed my shoulder instead.”
Ronon's going to have to work with the colonel on that in their next sparring session. He thinks quickly, looking around. “I'll go after Lars, get the gun back and grab you on the way out,” he explains, already looking for things to tie up the group of unconscious men.
“No! I'm goin' with you,” Sheppard protests, but slumps against the wall after getting up too fast and jarring his shoulder.
“You'll slow me down and you can't get into a fight,” Ronon rebukes, cutting pieces of rope he's found in the corner and tyeing up the hands of the mercenaries. Once he's secured the last prisoner, he pulls out his blaster. “I'll be quick.”
“Ronon.”
“The longer we argue the less of a chance I'll find him.”
He can tell Sheppard doesn't like it, but the colonel nods reluctantly. “Fine. Keep in contact with me every five minutes.”
“Okay.” Ronon hesitates, taking in the amount of unconscious prisoners.
The colonel senses his concern, pulling out his Glock with his left hand. “I also have my Beretta and extra clips. Don't worry about the eight dwarves here.”
Ronon hesitates. He doesn't like splitting up, especially if Sheppard's hurt, but they can't let someone as ruthless as Turesh get away with advanced weaponry. “You should bind that shoulder.”
“Just be careful.”
Ronon nods, his heart pounding again with another release of endorphins. “You too.”
He heads off after the lying, scamming trader.
He doesn't tell Sheppard that Turesh is fair game if he finds him, knowing deep inside the colonel is well aware of this.
-------------------
The underground complex is a looming set of tunnels created in search of ore. Ronon's eyes adjust to the lack of light, but it's still difficult to keep from tripping over the uneven, rocky ground. This area has been carved out recently, greedy desires weakening the very foundation under the town.
The corridor is narrow and he has to stoop over to keep from hitting his head against the freshly chiseled out roof. He follows a set of tracks in the layer of black silt, keeping his blaster out in front of him.
What's your progress?”
“Place is bigger than I thought, but I've got a lead,” Ronon answers his com.
“Don't get lost.”
The tracks are easy to follow, but there are a lot of other tunnels and the place is a giant, dimly lit maze. Something tingles in his craw, tightening the muscles in his gut. He's getting close, he knows it.
“Going on radio silence, Ronon out,” he says tapping off his ear piece.
He's not claustrophobic, but it feels good to walk out of the tight tunnel and into another room. There is artificial light coming from the ceiling and it looks like this is an existing warehouse with a freshly dug out hallway. It wouldn't surprise him if Turesh secretly mined a series of hidden rooms like these under other businesses.
The boot treads disappear with the emergence of smooth cement floors. He searches for other exits, noting two other doors at the opposite ends. He slows his pace, sensing danger, eyes darting all over the warehouse.
Sound echoes loudly in caverns and he freezes at the cocking of a rifle.
“You're really stupid, you know that?” Lars says, pointing the P-90 at his chest.
“You were the one who left prints a child could follow,” he replies, aiming his blaster as well.
Lars must have paid close attention to the colonel’s weapon's demonstration since he holds the gun the correct way. “Maybe I did that on purpose. Ever thought of that?” He smiles, the animal skin jacket accenting the reptilian personality. “Waiting to ambush you was the plan. Now lower your gun.”
“No.” Ronon notices the perspiration roll down the man's forehead. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Don't think so. I haven't got my hands into everything in this town without getting them a little dirty. You won't be the first dead body I've buried around here.”
“No. You've left thousands on the battlegrounds. Dealing and double-crossing armies.”
“I trade information mainly, like knowing where the other Satedans are in this sector. Turesh is your main arms dealer, but I admit...I do see the profits in something like this fine weapon.”
“You're going to take the P-90 without telling him,” he says knowingly.
“Enough talking.”
Ronon bides his time, never taking his eyes off of the snake. Lars is antsy, sweat beads on his forehead and his left eye twitches. It's the only sign Ronon needs.
Lars pulls the p-90’s trigger a split second before Ronon unleashes his blaster. The gun clicks hollowly before the red bolt of energy from the blaster swallows the bar owner whole. His body stiffens, his finger twitching uselessly on the trigger before the gun falls from his hand, his stunned body following right behind.
Ronon shakes his head. “You forgot to turn off the safety.”
“He did, but I didn't.”
The deep voice ignites the raging flames of anger and Ronon spins around, his finger on the trigger. His reflexes freeze, his mind and body screaming at the mixed signals from his frantic brain.
Turesh steps forward with his arm wrapped tightly around Sheppard's throat, the muzzle of the colonel's Glock buried in the side of his head. His CO is held flush in front of the weapons dealer’s body like a shield.
“Oh. Did you forget something?” Turesh laughs, pressing the gun harder against Sheppard's skull.
“Shoot him,” the colonel gasps.
Turesh flexes his bicep to cut off the pilot's air. Sheppard sputters, his eyes bulging out a little as his face flushes from the lack of oxygen. “Lower your weapon,” Turesh orders, squeezing his arm harder.
The pilot wheezes while Turesh holds him in place, easily overpowering him. Sheppard's eyes glaze over but he fights, sending Ronon a signal to take the shot before he passes out.
“Let him go or die,” Ronon growls.
Turesh stands there, basking in the control he wields. “If you shoot me, I'll shoot him. If you screw around then he runs out of air.”
No! No! No! No! Ronon's mind screams.
The colonel's body begins to sag in the mercenary's grasp. Every fiber in Ronon’s body tells him to take the shot, but he lowers his blaster despite his CO's eyes pleading him not to.
Maybe a couple of years ago he might have obeyed. But not today.
His blaster clatters to the ground.
One of the goons from earlier arrives, aiming another gun in his direction and he knows he's lost any chance at rushing the mercenary.
Turesh grins wildly. “I never thought I'd see the day a Satedan lowered his weapon or left a soldier behind.”
The verbal jab is like a dagger to the gut and Ronon bristles, still calculating options.
“Let him go,” he demands.
“Sure.”
Turesh releases Sheppard and he collapses to the ground, gasping for breath on his hands and knees.
“This is between us,” Ronon says, trying to distract Turesh. “Let's handle this one on one.”
Turesh cocks his head in concession, glancing at the crony beside him whose pistol is still trained on him. “You're right. No need to involve anyone else.”
Ronon expects a bullet to rip open his chest and hopes he'll have enough energy to take out the murderer and give Sheppard a chance to escape. He tenses at the blur of motion but he doesn't register the aim of the gun until it's too late.
Sheppard never had a chance.
Turesh fires at the colonel's temple. The report of the gun deafens his ears and muffles the scream from his lips. The pilot slumps to the ground, blood gushing from the head wound.
Ronon can't hear, can't see—there's nothing but flashes of red and howls of grief and rage. He feels such blind pain that all the swirling colors of emotion darken to nothingness.
His mind is too busy trying to handle the overload to register the pain in the back of his head.
And then there’s nothing.
---------------------------
Chapter 4
A/N:
Thanks to the few who gave this new one a try.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 05:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 08:55 pm (UTC)dude! did you just shoot sheppard in the head? :O :O :O
no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 05:59 am (UTC)Yeah for catching up!!
dude! did you just shoot sheppard in the head?
Maybe...re-read the scene but I know I didn't.
:P
Thank you, hope you enjoy the rest.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 10:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 05:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 05:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-28 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 05:57 am (UTC)Thank you!!
no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 06:04 pm (UTC)I got two things running through my head. The Guinness commercials with their "Brilliant!" and Monty Python's Black Knight with his "It's just a flesh wound." Man. It's crowded in here.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-29 07:26 pm (UTC)I am evil and I'm glad you enjoy it.
no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-11-30 06:41 pm (UTC)And he's like. "Oh..okay."
Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2008-04-17 10:03 am (UTC)No time for comment, next chapter.
plzkthnks
no subject
Date: 2008-04-18 03:49 am (UTC)