feltgoodthough | (no subject)

Ronon would never have said it to Heightmeyer or the woman who eventually replaced her who he had also been obliged to talk to on occasion (for a given value of talk). But every time he ran, every time he shifted his posture, picked up the pace and moved at speed, he could feel the Wraith at his back whether they were there or not. Running through the city levels with Sheppard, running through the buildings of Earth that mirrored Sateda just enough to make him think, racing back to the Jumper laying down cover fire. Ronon could feel the adrenaline race through him, his hands itching for a weapon even when he was already holding one. Ronon was no longer a runner – but he became one every time he ran. He'd mostly stopped wondering if that would ever change.

However it was not inaccurate to say that even now long after he has stopped being a runner that the Wraith had often been at his back. Right now - as he dodged through the empty corridors of the Daedalus trying not to think of Jennifer's stubborn, stupid sacrifice which he should have seen coming - that was certainly the case. Todd would kill her, Ronon was sure. Never trust a Wraith and right now Ronon had had enough of running as he had so many times before. He would stand, he would fight, Wraith would die and as he listened to the footsteps of drones and a prisoner, he realised he could do a little more good at the same time.

He ducked into an armoury and grabbed a extra gun.

The next bit was more complicated but whatever the reason for the design, the hand holds in the ceiling were thankfully obvious. He clambered up bracing himself. Now it was just a matter of waiting and he did not have long endure inactivity long. He shot quickly as he swung down before the orientation of the angle could confuse his aim and handed the spare gun off to Jennifer, dampening down his surprised relief that she wasn't dead because there were still drones coming.

Then there weren't. There weren't live drones. There wasn't Jennifer. There was no more Daedalus. There were trees, there was snow on the ground, two prone Wraith drones and the gun he had handed her lying on the jungle floor. One Wraith twitched and instinctively he put another blast of energy into it before bending to check they both were dead. He snatched up the machine gun and examined the area. There were no tracks. None. Snow normally made tracking easy - and this didn't look that freshly fallen.

Ronon had never seen Wraith tech that could do this and were normally incapable of using anything ancestral. But there was little he put past them even this had been an odd moment to try it. Todd had already betrayed them.

"Jennifer?" he called, first outloud and then into his static filled ear piece, receiving no response. He shivered, shrugged, armed his energy weapon picked a direction and set off at pace. Running again.

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"I've never been here before," said Ronon, thinking at once of replicators and Michael clones and that other version of McKay.

"Met a girl, looked like Keller - told me that already," said Ronon - but he waved the man on ahead anyway. Let him lead the way - that way Ronon could keep an eye on him. Because if he was a replicator - he'd slipped up. Weir was dead. "So," he said, "what do I call you." He flicked the gun back to kill - just in case he was a threat - it seemed a long winded plan of attack though - why not just pretend to be Sheppard.

"Yes you were, you just don't remember," Brendan insisted, sighing as he lead the way. He knew Ronon well enough to know that Ronon was probably ... plotting things. At least he knew Ronon wouldn't shoot him in the back. "And I know what you're thinking, but time is different here. It pulls people in from all different times, places, dimensions. And don't try and tell me that's crazy 'cause I know where you come from and it really isn't that crazy."

He turned around, walking backwards. He smiled. "And I'm Brendan Dean. It's nice to meet you. Again."

Ronon shrugged, he wasn't going to argue but he hadn't been here and he didn't forget. "It's all one dimension," he countered. "Mostly." There was the odd occasion and though it seemed unlikely - it would not be the first time they had encountered other versions of themselves who weren't replicators. There had been the dead ones aboard the ship for one. So he paused "Dr. Weir is not dead?"

This was the sort of news that for a moment could convince Ronon to forget even the oddness of Brendan looking just like Sheppard. For a moment. So Brendan got a nod instead of a glare. "Yeah well, you know all about me." Or so he said. Ronon would see.

"Yeah, wait 'till you meet Han Solo," Brendan muttered under his breath. He took a blind step over a rock to avoid tripping on it. "And no, not here she isn't. She seems like a very nice lady."

"And I wouldn't say I know all about you, but it's pretty safe to say at this point I know more than you know about me." Brendan furrowed his brow. "Do you come after the whole thing with the 'Replicators'? You know, imploding their homeworld and such?"

Ronon hurried his pace at that, Elizabeth had sacrificed herself to save the city - but she was here. That at least was worth seeing.

"Yeah," said Ronon not elaborating, because thinking of Elizabeth and the replicators together only riled him. "You're from Earth right?" He directed the attention back to Brendan - let him talk about himself.