the start line

Atlantis isn't so annoying once the guards have been told to stop following him around. It's just a very clean looking place filled with people he doesn't know and doesn't really care to know. After seven years of being alone, suddenly having people around is distracting and too loud in his ears.

Ronon spends a lot of time in the workout room. If anyone comes in by mistake and sees him there, they excuse themselves and turn right back around. That suits him just fine. He works out with focus and intent. For all he knows, this could be a dream. He could have to start running again any moment. For seven years, he's believed that the running will never stop. If it has stopped, he still has seven years to go before he can believe it.

He's turning around to catch an invisible opponent in the face when he sees the door slide open and John Sheppard walk in, hands in pockets.

Ronon stares at the other man. He doesn't look like military. Whatever military he's a part of must lack discipline and grooming products. Where's the posture? Where's the threatening air? Ronon has a valid reason for looking as though he's been living in a cave. What's Sheppard's excuse? Where's the muscle? Where's the hint of a killer instinct? Where is that demeanor that says this man's occupation is to kill on command, to die if he has to?

John Sheppard displays none of these things. People like him are the most dangerous.

"Hey," Sheppard says with his usual air of nonchalance.

Ronon doesn't reply, giving a nod as he just waits for the question.

Sheppard watches him for a moment, glances around the room and then looks back at Ronon, a funny expression passing across his face, like he's uncertain of how to handle the silence.

Then he nods and just sighs. "You know why I'm here, right?"

"You want to train?" Ronon asks, knowing that's not the reason.

Sheppard's brows knit together and he seems to be thinking about it. "Actually, no. I don't really feel like being smacked around today. Maybe later. I wanted to ask you if you'd decided to join the team yet."

"No," Ronon replies flatly.

"No, you haven't decided or, no, you're not joining?"

"Haven't decided," Ronon says.

Sheppard nods. "What's holding you back?"

Wraith tricks, Ronon thinks. What's holding him back is that this could all be one big illusion, right from the moment he ran into Wraith-eye, the one they call Ford.

Ronon's reply to Sheppard is a shrug as he folds his arms across his chest.

Sheppard nods and smiles. "Well, as long it's a good reason."

"I don't know you people," Ronon says while Sheppard's still finishing his sentence. "Why should I trust you?"

Sheppard looks surprised. "Well, for a start, we took that thing out of your back even though you held us at gunpoint. I'd say that's a pretty good reason."

That is a pretty good reason, but still, Wraith tricks. Seven years of running can't be over that quick. It can't be as easy as some strangers turning up on the planet in search of their friend and liberating him.

"What if I say no?" Ronon asks.

Sheppard looks a little disappointed, but not enough that you could actually be sure that's what he is. "Well, I'd have to respect your choice."

"And I can leave?" he asks.

"You can leave whenever you want. You're not a prisoner here. I'm not giving you an alternative to being a prisoner. I'm asking you to be a member of my team because I think we could use a guy like you." Sheppard looks at Ronon long and hard, like he can actually see the part of Ronon that is considering the offer. "Take some more time to think about it. Get to know your team. You might even like them."

Looking at the other man, Ronon thinks that with Sheppard you get the feeling you can tell everything there is to know about the him, when in truth, there's nothing there that says anything concrete. Anything Sheppard doesn't want you to think.

Charm. Ronon figures this guy can charm anyone into anything. He's way more dangerous than he looks.

And he hates the Wraith.

Ronon nods at John. "Okay."

Sheppard has that comical, quizzical look on his face that Ronon's seen a few times. "Okay, you'll join, or, okay you'll think about it?"

"Second one," Ronon says flatly before he gives Sheppard a short look and turns around, straight back into his workout.

He catches an amused smirk on the other man's face as he leaves, Sheppard's posture a little less boneless and a little more military.

Team, Ronon thinks. He can't even remember what that's like.

He passes McKay's lab on a walkabout. It's a big city and apparently it's largely unexplored, these Atlanteans only inhabiting a small portion.

The first thing he notices is that there's a lot of noise coming out of the lab and one man seems to be responsible for most of it. That man is McKay. That man is on the team. He will make that noise on the team. Ronon doesn't care much for noise or for talking. He's used to silence.

Rodney McKay comes across as someone who doesn't know what silence is.

"Yes, well done. Next time I feel like blowing up the city and giving the Wraith a platter of barbecued humans, you will be my first choice to make it happen," McKay is telling someone.

"Berating your colleagues will not power ZPM, Rodney. Unless you intend to use hot air from your head. I am thinking you have a potentially inexhaustible supply of energy in that respect."

"A lot like the inexhaustible supply of stupidity in this room. Especially within the radius of a yard."

Silence.

"Did I mention it's an expanding radius? I call it the Zelenka variable."

Silence.

"Oh, that's really mature. Try using those fingers to count for a change."

A small man comes out of the lab, muttering and gesticulating, a small gadget in his hand. He walks past Ronon and completely ignores him as he walks away down the corridor.

A moment later, McKay emerges from the lab, carrying a larger data pad, the kind Ronon has seen many of the scientists carrying. McKay stops when he sees Ronon and frowns.

Ronon waits for a greeting, but the other man just looks at him and then at their surroundings in clear confusion.

"You make a lot of noise," Ronon says after a while, because McKay is not about to issue any kind of greeting.

McKay looks bored by Ronon's statement. "Which is stranger than you standing outside my lab making no noise, how?"

"You always this loud?"

McKay brings up a hand, fingers going to his lips and doing an odd flourish. "It's called enunciation. I find it helps in communicating my ideas whereas mumbling leaves a lot to be desired."

Ronon folds his arms and levels a stare at McKay. McKay frowns, looks at Ronon's muscled arms and stiffens slightly, giving Ronon a narrow-eyed look.

"Colonel Sheppard wants me to join the team."

McKay doesn't look surprised. "Yes, well, he's under a lot of pressure. Mostly hair related, I might add."

"You have a problem with me being on the team?" Ronon asks.

McKay rolls his eyes like he's never heard a question so stupid. It makes Ronon wonder why the man isn't shaking in his boots. He should be.

"Uh, yeah. I have a problem with a twelve foot giant on my team that carries a bazooka in his holster and could blow a ten foot hole in a Wraith. Do I look like an adrenaline junkie to you?"

Ronon watches McKay closely, tempted to ask him why he's not afraid. McKay stares back and then frowns, asking impatiently, "What?"

Ronon shrugs and McKay looks really annoyed now. A man who does not like the non-answer. That's good to know.

"Look, if you think I have a problem with you being on the team, I don't. In fact, if you have any friends, bring them along too. I'm all for around the clock protection."

"If you're so scared, why go out there at all?" Ronon asks.

This shuts McKay up good and proper. The arrogance slips away so easily and the man seems to be nothing but wide eyes and a tilted broken mouth underneath. Unlike Sheppard, everything you need to know about McKay is right there, written all over his face in clear and sharp letters.

Rodney swallows before answering. "You ever been to another galaxy?"

"No," Ronon says.

"Would you go if you had the chance?"

Ronon shrugs. He really doesn't know. He's far from the planet of his birth, but at least he's still in his own galaxy.

"I would," McKay says with a defiant little raise of his chin. "In fact, I did."

Ronon knows what McKay's just told him. McKay is out there without going anywhere. Everywhere is out there for the Atlanteans. And the look on McKay's face says that he's come this far despite the fear, so what's a little further?

All of it, right there on his face. Even when he's not talking he's saying something, unlike Sheppard who can be telling you something and hiding everything at the same time. It's an odd assortment of bedfellows, but Ronon feels his interest growing.

"As for being scared, well, whatever keeps you alive. Right?" Rodney asks.

Ronon thinks of the last seven years. Running to survive. To live. If not from fear, then what else? And then you start becoming afraid of being afraid and you push it so deep that survival becomes automatic and you don't feel much at all. He could be afraid and he wouldn't even know it. His face would be the last place it would show. McKay isn't afraid of being afraid at all. Funny, the way people learn to survive.

"Right," Ronon says.

Rodney gives a nod. "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but there are incompetent people I have to go and shout at now and I hear it's meatloaf day. So, if there's nothing else?"

Ronon shakes his head slowly. "No."

Rodney gives another little nod. "Good. Excuse me."

Ronon watches him walk away, already complaining into his ear piece, his words tripping out of his mouth at amazing speed.

That man could get annoying very fast. But he's smart and something about him suggests that his fear is one of his strengths. He's probably worth putting up with.

He's worked out several times today, but he still turns up to see Teyla in the evening for a session that involves someone other than just himself.

Teyla is his strongest reason to join the team. She's lived under the shadow of the Wraith, like him. She's separated from her people, like him. She hates the Wraith, like him. She's not one of these Atlanteans. Yet, here she is, with them, trusting them and fighting alongside them. That has to stand for something.

But she also frustrates him. He has to work hard to keep up with her. She's smaller and faster and he suspects she could outlast him in a fight, though, he could capitalize on one mistake by her and have her defeated by his strength. She knows this. So she moves faster. So, she frustrates him.

The skirt doesn't slow her down or get caught under her feet. It whips around her, making her movements dance-like. He almost wants to tell her that though he may be human and appreciate the grace of her movements, the Wraith won't be so taken and easily distracted.

She almost distracts him. So, she frustrates him. A little.

Away from the fight, she doesn't look like someone that can wield a weapon. When he's spoken to her, her demeanor's been gentle, inviting and even comforting. So when she whips past him, leaving his staff to connect with nothing and uses his momentum to take his feet from under him, he's almost shocked because he's been thinking of the other Teyla, the one that could never do this. As soon as his back hits the mat, he's about to get right back up, but her staff smacks lightly on the side of his neck and she's standing there, looking down at him, shining with sweat and her face flushed.

"You did that to get back at me," he says.

Teyla's mouth quirks in a smile that makes him think of Sheppard. "Yes, I did."

"I said I was sorry," Ronon reminds her.

Teyla smiles, mischief in her eyes. "Yes. You did."

She removes the staff from his neck and holds out a hand, which seems ridiculous considering their differing sizes, but he recognizes the conciliatory gesture and accepts it. Her grip is strong and she pulls him to his feet, though he needs no help.

"Have you made your decision yet?" Teyla asks, going to the window and picking up her towel.

Ronon watches her as she wipes the sweat on her skin. "No."

She looks at him with a slight frown. "What is stopping you?"

Ronon shrugs. It would sound too pathetic too tell her that he's used to being alone and unsure of whether he wants to go back to being a cog in the machine. Following orders seems a lifetime ago. Everything that was normal to him seems a lifetime ago. He only knows one thing.

Teyla is watching him and a small smile appears on her face, her eyes soft with too much understanding. It makes Ronon ache a little. This is what it is to be around people again.

She walks up to him and places a hand on his arm. "Ronon. You don't have to run anymore."

He stands there, knowing his face is blank and that his body is still, giving away nothing, but as Teyla leaves, there's a small stab of pain in his chest and he remembers. This is what it's like to be human again.

Sheppard's standing there firing his handgun at one of those paper targets, contraptions on his ears to keep out the sound.

Ronon walks straight up to him and looks at the target. At the center of the black circle is one single hole, but it's not the kind of hole made by one bullet. It's the kind of hole made by firing continuously on the same spot. The target has no other bullet holes. Just that one spot of Sheppard's focus.

Looking at the paper target, Ronon realizes this is the Sheppard that's hidden away. The one with steady hands and focused eyes. The one that can kill.

When Ronon looks back at Sheppard, he's taking off the ear contraptions and putting down his gun. He ignores the target that Ronon's been looking at, like it doesn't even exist and he had nothing do with the big hole at the center of it.

"Hey," Sheppard says with his usual air of nonchalance.

Ronon doesn't reply, giving a nod as he just waits for the question.

Sheppard shrugs. "Well? You in?"

Ronon nods. "Yeah. I'm in."

Sheppard nods and smiles, like he's just achieved something amazing. Ronon wonders if it's the right decision, because the man in front does not look like a fighter. He wonders if he's been charmed into joining this team.

Then he's reminded of the dead paper target.

"So," Sheppard says, his brow rising high. "Can I check out your gun?"

Ronon folds his arms across his chest. "No."

Sheppard looks at Ronon with an expression akin to innocent. "Hey, it's all a part of teamwork."

Ronon rolls his eyes and sighs, pulling the gun from his holster and handing it to Sheppard.

Sheppard grins at the gun. "Cool."

Teamwork will take some getting used to.

- the end -