1. An Alien Battlefield

Across the dust of the field, Ronon could see the enemy troops. There were at least three of them to each of the people on his own side.

It had started out as a fairly quiet mission - the SGC had called in several of the Atlantis teams in order to keep them active while repairs were underway on the Ancient city-ship. This one had started out as a trading mission involving some Ancient technology they hadn't seen before; Dr. Katrina St. Claire had been sent along to study the devices this culture possessed. Partway through, they had found themselves on the losing side of a power struggle in the royal court, with the dominant side holding the Stargate.

He glanced at the petite redhead at his side; Kit, as she preferred to be called, hadn't had her handgun training yet, and he was well aware that as a hobbyist reenactor, she was more comfortable with a sword in her hand than a gun. She'd actually asked to borrow his sword, testing its balance and reach before joining him at the front. Might help when things got tight, but for now, her lack of experience with guns was a liability. Maybe . . . . .

"Kit, can you sing one of those battle songs you've been singing around Atlantis? Maybe that one about Roland, where he was outnumbered - we've got a lot of young warriors here who haven't seen combat."

The redhead glanced up at him, shock in her face. It was probably the most speech she'd had of him since she'd gone to Atlantis. The lanky warrior studied her a moment with his changling green eyes, then returned his gaze to the horizon.

"No. I've got a better one for this occasion." Her clear alto voice rang strongly across the field:

_Yes we may die but we die with our teeth in their throats_

_Yes we may die but we die with their blood on our swords_

_Yes we may die but we die with our name on their lips_

_Yes we may die and the reaper is near and he cuts a great swath and he claims a great tithe but he's ours so we stand by his side with no fear and_

_Yes we may die but we know it and we can die well_

His eyebrows drew together as he carefully followed the song . . . .

_Yes we may die but we die with the wind in our eyes _

_Yes we may die but we die with the drums in our veins_

_Yes we may die but the war horns still howl and we rise_

_Yes we may die but we die in our prime and old age can not wither our arms or our blades or our pride and our legends last long past old men, so _

_Yes we may die but we know it and we can die well_

A slow, almost feral grin began to spread across Ronan's face . . . .

_Yes we may die but mere death is not always defeat_

_Yes we may die but mere life is not all we can win _

_Yes we may die but the blood of our line never pales_

_Yes we may die and leave sweethearts behind, but leave sons and leave daughters to take up the sword and revenge, and our memories will push them like fire, so_

_Yes we may die but we know it and we can die well_

The troops across the field began pulling together into formations . . . .

_Yes we may die but we die on our feet, not our knees_

_Yes we may die but we die in our lines, not our beds_

_Yes we may die and the doors of Valhalla swing wide_

_Yes we may die but the short road to glory is paved with our blood and the foes' broken swords and it's ours and the stars will blaze bright with our deeds, so_

_Yes we may die but we know it and we can die well_

_Yes we may die but we know it and we can die well._

He glanced down at her as the men in their lines began to straighten, to pick up arms and set themselves for the battle. "That was a good one," he said, gazing back over the lines, "A war song worthy of a shieldmaiden of Sateda."

They gazed back over the field, ready for action.

* * *

_Undefeated_ Lyrics © 2003 Kathi Coutinho

Permission to perform in non-paying venues with this copyright attached, granted.

Permission to duplicate for non-profit purposes with this copyright attached, granted.

My gratitude unto THL Lucia Elena Braganza for writing such a great song that I just had to write a story for it!


	2. No Ordinary Maiden

Thanks for the reviews! I should have the next installment up sooner than this – we're in the middle of lambing & shearing season on the farm, and our internet's been spotty the last few weeks (joys of satellite)

_Three weeks prior . . . . . _

"Now let's not be ridiculous here," whined Rodney, pausing his pacing at the end of the briefing room conference table. "I don't need any help to get the city operational again! I am perfectly capable of getting this done on my own without having people getting in my way." The annoyed physicist resumed pacing. Since the return of Atlantis to Earth while following the ZPM-enhanced hive ship, McKay had been working non-stop for several days, trying to deal with repairs, system failures because of damage and keeping the city's power systems and cloak functional - not an easy thing with three nearly depleted ZPM's. "And WHY," continued the physicist, "do I have to be the one wearing this? Ronon and Tayla don't even have to wear any of these ridiculous costumes!"

"Now Dr. McKay," Mr. Woolsey interjected, seeing him winding up for a whole new line of complaints, "Tayla and Ronon will fit right in with their everyday clothing, I'm wearing a costume, as are Colonels Carter and Shepherd. It's my understanding that at this Pennsic War event, we'll stick out more if we wear everyday clothes. We need to pick up Dr. Katrina St. Claire, who has done extensive work with Ancient power systems and technologies at both Area 51 and SGC, and at the rate we're losing systems, we need her here now. She is out of contact by cell phone, and we can't just beam her out of an event with 15,000 people in attendance, even if the Daedalus was in range, which it won't be for a couple more weeks. We need her briefed as quickly as possible on the situation here and the extent of the damage, and as you and Colonel Carter are the best people to brief her, you are coming with."

"Besides, Rodney," Shepherd broke in, an evil grin on his face, "If the tights won't work, I'm sure we could talk Beckett into loaning you his kilt . . . . . "

* * *

A half hour later, their cloaked puddle jumper was parked in a field outside what appeared to be a medieval encampment. Tayla and Ronon had been briefed on the hobby of some Earthlings' love for reenacting history, and now were walking through the middle of Pennsic War, one of the reenactment world's largest annual events. "So these people get into armor and fight, but nobody's really trying to hurt anyone?" Ronon seemed to have a better grip on this than the others; on Sateda, especially in the military, war games were a regular part of training and recreation, intended to sharpen the fighting skills of the soldiers while building team camaraderie.

Having tracked down the contact information and schedule that Kit had left for the SGC, the group was working their way towards the main battlefield. McKay had stopped whining about his costume only long enough to complain about the heat, dangers of sunlight, allergies and the length of the walk; in other words, business as usual. As they approached the battlefield, an older gentleman approached, "Lady Samantha, the heavens part and you appear." Sam's face lit up with a genuine smile; she had spoken with Gunnar, a good friend of Kit's, on a few occasions over the years. Making a path through the crowd, he brought them to a pavilion at the edge of the field. "She's there, the bronze helm with the red horsehair on top," Gunnar explained, pointing towards a dozen or so combatants on the field, the remnants of the battle. "Unfortunately, our side is the ones with the blue tape on their helms," indicating the two fighters who were on either side of Kit - three against nine. "But does your presence here show a sudden interest in the middle ages, my lady, or has something else earth-shattering occurred that you must steal away quickly with Kit?" Sam tried to explain the gravity of the situation; not a simple task when the location, the problem and the systems involved were all classified. "Oh, dear, that does sound rather urgent. And how fare Valhalla and our . . . . . small . . . . . friends?"

At Woolsey's look of surprise, Sam shook her head and explained, "Gunnar and his household, including Kit, were involved in helping with a foothold situation at headquarters a few years back; as Gunnar has a strong interest in Norse mythology, we occasionally give him a few tidbits about those he met." Turning to address Gunnar, a more solemn look on her face, "Valhalla has, regretfully, fallen; however Midgard now holds the knowledge they once possessed." Gunnar's face fell on learning of the fate of the Asgard, only one of many who had mourned the passing of that great civilization.

Meanwhile Ronon had been studying the battle for a few moments; when one of the enemy spears was pushed to the ground, Kit ran up the shaft, taking several shots with her duct-tape wrapped "sword". Several of the shots were good as five of the opposing side fell to the ground before she, too, fell. Within a matter of moments, the battle was finished as the two from her side followed up her attack with a charge, taking out the remaining four fighters. The battle won, the fighters got up off the ground and began to make their way off the field.

Ronon's attention was held as the helm slid off of a petite, slender woman with red hair darkened with sweat. He saw her eyebrows pucker together as she noted the newcomers to the pavilion, and she picked up her pace to a fast trot. "How bad?" were the first words out of her mouth as she cut a path through the gathering crowd.

"Pretty bad," replied Carter, "Depleted ZPM's, a lot of damage and system failures and . . . . . the Pegasus project . . . " Kit nodded, as she followed the hints of what could not be spoken of in mixed company. "Well, it's parked outside of San Francisco Bay." Ronon thought her sage green eyes were going to pop out of her head as she grasped the full extent of that particular problem, jaw dropping.

"I've got William with me, is that going to be a problem? I really can't just leave him here not knowing how long I'll have to be gone." Kit was already searching for her son in the crowd and called for him while shedding her armor; a moment later, a scruffy boy of about six or seven years came screeching to a halt beside her. With dark hair and eyes to match his mother's, he grinned when he spotted Sam and threw his arms around her waist, the gesture returned as Sam returned the smile and hug. They continued their conversation as they made their way down the dusty road back to her camp.

"Not a problem - I've already checked with the IOA, and they agree that since he's been more than discreet about . . . . . prior incidents, that it's more than worth the risk to have your help." Mr. Woolsey glanced around, a bit out of his depth in this situation. "To be honest, as hot as we came in over the Pacific, I'm not entirely certain how long we can keep the project under wraps at this point." A worried frown creased the bureaucrat's face. "We've got transportation arranged, how long do you need?"

"Give me 20 minutes to get to camp and get what we'll need, 30 if hot showers aren't feasible on the other end." Glancing down at her arming clothes, she continued, "I take it, um, dress code will not be an issue?" Woolsey shook his head. "Good, I've got a couple day's worth of regular clothes, but everything else I've got is wearable, but definitely not what you buy at the store."

A few minutes later, they passed through the gates to her camp. Entering a large, round tent, she motioned for them to follow. A comfortable home was set up within; a small table and chairs, beds, chests, and rugs, with the tent walls rolled up to provide a cooling breeze. Kit began grabbing up clothing and toiletries, stuffing them into chests and imploring William to do the same. Tayla wandered around the inside of the tent, helping when it was needed; it was very reminiscent of the tents her people used when out in hunting parties. Within 10 minutes, they were packed and heading back to the jumper, with Kit rattling off last-minute instructions to deal with her remaining gear to Gunnar, in a fashion that would make a drill sergeant proud.

Once aboard the jumper, with William dancing around and asking a million questions about how everything worked, Carter and McKay began to brief her on the situation on Atlantis. She sat quietly, brushing out her shoulder-length hair and pulling it back into a braided bun, processing in all the information that she was being barraged with. She pulled on clean jeans under her knee-length shirt, and then discretely swapped the shirt for a choli, a type of shirt from the Indian subcontinent. She turned her back to Ronon after she had finished shedding the arming shirt, "Tie me up?" He stared and actually blushed a bit, looking at the creamy expanse of bared back, flustered. "The shirt - can you do the ties for me?" she inquired again, quietly smiling a little at his discomfort as he realized that there were ties on both sides. "Thanks - that's at least a little bit better. I think that shower's going to have to wait at least a little while."

As they reached Atlantis, she asked Shepherd to circle the city a couple of times to better assess the damage. Even though work crews had been working on repairs, there were still scars and tears marring the city's beautiful facade. "Okay, take it down." She had dug out a laptop on the way back to Atlantis, and was busy typing notes. "Dr. McKay, if you would please take a look at this, I think I've got a good idea of where we need to start to prop up the power grid so that we can maintain the cloak."


	3. An Alien Battlefield  Part 2

_Author's Note: My apologies for the delay in getting this story moved forward; joys of being a grad student, small business owner, artisan, farmer, etc. I should be putting more up yet today and over the next few weeks._

They had lain in the dust near the center for several more minutes as the lines studied each other, searching for strengths to avoid, weaknesses to be taken advantage of. A few shots had been fired, testing range and accuracy, when a great shout came from the Aniri on the other side of the battlefield and they began to charge.

Ronon began barking out orders at the young men under his command as they began to take fire. They were under good cover behind some fallen trees with a downhill slope behind them. Kit had found a place between two of the trees where she could keep a steady eye on the approaching forces and report.

"They're advancing steadily across the field, about 2,000 at a guess," she reported. "Isn't that a bit short of the estimates?" They had been briefed at a meeting early that morning, along with Teyla, Shepherd and McKay; they were on the far right side of the line, trying to figure out a way to get back to the Jumper and bring it into play for the battle. The superior technology and weaponry of the ancient vessel might swing the balance in their favor.

"About 600." He continued to scan the bit of field in front of him, squeezing off shots as targets presented themselves. Where were they? He'd talked to the scouts himself, he knew their numbers were accurate, he'd gone out himself to verify it.

"Movement in the treeline to the right!" Kit pointed towards a patch of trees that came out from the edge of the forest by several hundred feet; sure enough, when he came up to her hiding spot, he could see them, moving quietly through the woods, dressed in dark clothing to hide in the shadows to flank them and divide the line. Glancing right, he saw that the group there hadn't noticed their peril until the Aniri were nearly on top of them. Scrambling into action, what could have been kept at a distance was instead quickly turning into hand-to-hand combat.

"They're charging!" A young scout on their left reported to their group; Ronon looked ahead and saw that as everyone's attention had been grabbed by the flanking maneuver, the line had drawn closer. Weapons-fire began coming their way in earnest. He spared a couple more glances to the right and then began to return fire to the line in front of him.

"If they get through, they'll flank us, and it'll be all over," Kit said as she belly-crawled to his position. "I'm useless here, but they're in close quarters on the right - I can make a difference there with a sword!" He spared her a glance between shots; she had been left in his care, and he'd be damned if he'd see her get hurt. But she did have a point, and if the right broke, there was no good way out of it; their position had nothing but a downhill slope and a plain behind it, no cover to speak of. "Look, if it gets too hot, I'll either come back here or go on to John and Teyla's position, okay?"

He thought about it another minute. She knew the risks; she had talked with him last night about it. Okay, maybe talked at him was a better description - he knew he would probably never talk as much as other people did, after seven years running from and hunting the Wraith. She had asked him, if things went badly and he got out, to take care of William for her. He'd barely been able to speak past the lump in his throat to growl at her that she'd be able to take care of him herself. He'd grown more fond than he cared to admit of both the boy and his mother over the past three weeks. "Okay," he ground out. She turned to leave and looked back as he grabbed her arm.

Her green eyes met his, a question in the lines on her brow. He studied her a moment longer, trying to burn the color of her eyes, the line of her cheek, the curl of her hair into his mind. "Be careful." She nodded, and he watched her as she began to work her way right into the close fighting.

His attention returned to the battle when a particularly low shot set splinters flying from the tree in front of him. By the time he could look the way she had gone, she was already into the fray, where he couldn't see her. He threw an occasional thought her way as he continued firing shots across the field. The Aniri seemed to be slowing down a bit, now that their flanking maneuver had been matched, and the men seemed somewhat less eager to expose themselves to fire and to fight themselves. Maybe there was hope yet.

He had not seen her for the better part of an hour, and was becoming concerned, when he heard her clear voice ringing across the field. Was she in trouble? No, it was repeating. He listened closely and slowed his rate of fire when he realized he wasn't the only one who was slowing so he could hear her. What was she . . . . . He laughed, as he realized she was singing!

_"Little knight Katronya, running through the list field,_

_Picking up Anirians and bopping them on the head"_

"Then the marshall came over,"

_"Little knight Katronya, I don't want to see you,_

_Picking up Anirians and bopping them on the head!"_

Laughter rolled through the right side of the Raian lines as they understood her song - she was mocking the Aniri in the heat of the battle! The Aniri began to press harder, throwing themselves into the battle with renewed energy.

And so the battle went, back and forth. He would hear her shout encouragement or derision, depending on the side involved, and his heart swelled with pride that this brave, beautiful, strong woman trusted him enough to entrust her son to him. After a while, her presence seemed to be casting a spell on the Aniri, many of whom had been conscripted to fight against their will, who now had a reason to flee the battle or change sides to help the Raia soldiers they had been firing on mere minutes before. It did not take long for the tide to turn after that, and the Aniri turned tail and fled with their lives.

His instincts from years of hunting Wraith were difficult to turn aside, but he pushed aside his need to chase them down so that they would not terrorize another village on another day in favor of finding Kit and his team. He walked through the right line where she had been fighting, hearing the men already telling tales that would become legend to their grandchildren about how a small Tau'ri female had taunted the Aniri and turned the tide of battle.

But she was not there.

He checked through the wounded at the back of the lines as he worked his way towards Teyla and John's position on the right flank.

But she was not there.

Finding them, he thought she must have gone with Rodney to fetch the device they had found, which might bolster the shields on Atlantis until they could bring the ZPM's back online, since she wasn't with them.

But they hadn't seen her.

They radioed Rodney to see if he had picked her up when he went to get the shuttle, or if he could find her using her locator chip. Rodney told them, rather solemnly, that he was pretty sure she hadn't gotten hers yet, since nobody had planed on having her go off-world so suddenly.

But she was not with him, either.


	4. Inappropriate

_Two and a half weeks earlier . . . . ._

"Ronon, what do you think you are DOING!"

Ronon spun from his ready position to the door, where an irritated Jennifer Keller stood in the doorway. Things hadn't been as easy between them since she had chosen Rodney; she seemed to be of the opinion that because she hadn't chosen him, they couldn't remain friends. He had hung in there for several weeks, offering to take her to lunch or dinner, but she had just seen it as a play for her affections rather than a friendly gesture to try to heal things between them.

He had no idea what he had done this time to piss her off, but she seemed in a fine fettle over something. Rather than play games, he simply cut to the chase. "About what?" he asked, an eyebrow quirked up.

"Teaching a boy of his age to fight is completely inappropriate! I mean, some kids on Earth start doing this kind of thing when they're his age, but only as games or gentle instruction," she stated primly, arms crossed across her chest, looking right back at him.

He took a deep breath and let it out in a gusty sigh. Great. Another "Earth" thing for him to figure out. "Look, Doc, when I was his age, on the farm I grew up on, my granddad taught me how to track and hunt animals that were getting into our fields or predators that were getting into our barns. My dad started teaching me to fight when I was four, and by the time I was Will's age, it was NOT a game." Let her take that as she would.

He and Will had formed an easy friendship. Mr. Woolsey had asked him, upon their arrival back at Atlantis, to take Kit and Will under his wing, and to watch over Will while Kit was busy with repairing the city's systems. He found the boy an easy companion, eager to learn anything Ronon was willing to teach and if impersonation was the finest form of flattery . . . . . .

Kit had laughed uproariously when she returned to their quarters and found Will attempting to put dreadlocks into his messy hair with most of a tube of hair gel and running around with a butterknife stuck in his belt. And Ronon just liked the boy. He listened well, even if he was bouncing the whole time, and Will was having a great time introducing Ronon to several more "earthisms".

Jennifer turned on her heel, whipping her blonde hair behind her, and strode back in the direction she came from. He and William exchanged a look.

"Think your mom'll be mad?" he asked the boy. He was definitely enjoying watching Kit bounce off some of the other crew members; he had thought her a bit strange until she pointed out that some of her odd behaviors in front of others was "just to watch them twitch." Indeed, he had seen her wind McKay up a few days ago in a manner that had sent the genius dashing through the city, trying to figure out who was doing what with his repair jobs. It was only when he saw her pinching her sides to keep from laughing that he realized she was just messing with him.

And anyone who could set McKay off in such a fine manner was obviously okay with him. He turned his attention back to the boy, who was grinning and shaking his head. "Naah, as long as there's not bleeding or broken bones involved, she's probably okay with it."

It had been a long day repairing the power grid on Atlantis. Kit felt like she had been running in twelve directions at once all day long. After crawling through what felt through half the power conduits in the city, she had emerged from an access port to a very annoyed Jennifer Keller. The doctor had proceeded to rant up and down about something having to do with Will and Ronon, which she finally understood the problem to be that Ronon was training Will to swordfight. She had laughed, and then cut the doctor off, telling her that she had been training Will the same skills for the past two years. After that, the power had gone out again in several areas of the city, and she hadn't stopped until nearly midnight.

Now she was in a quiet training room, working through a series of katas to unwind and clear her mind for the evening. Swinging the bantos sticks around, she worked through the rhythms of the routine until she found herself lost in the forms. She spun towards the door, bringing both sticks around into position - THWACK!

Her eyes popped open, meeting Ronon's changeling green eyes. He had grabbed one of the sticks as she had come around and blocked with it. He grinned at her, raising an eyebrow.

They danced around the room, taking shots and blocking. She moved in close, whirling and twisting, laying a shot along the back of his thigh. Spinning out again, he caught the back of her shoulder in a glancing blow. After several minutes of combat, he finally caught her other stick and pulled her close.

Inches from each other, he looked into her eyes and felt his focus slipping. Chests rising and falling in near unison as they caught their breath, they simply stayed together for several moments, until he shook his head to clear it of her spell.

"Um, I didn't know if you'd had dinner?" he queried, stepping slowly back. "Will fell asleep a couple hours ago, and I figured he was out hard enough to try to find you. I picked some stuff up from the mess before they closed down for the night." She nodded her assent, and he left his hand comfortably on her shoulder as he guided her through the door, the bantos sticks left forgotten in the corner.

When they returned to her quarters, she insisted he stay and eat with her, to tell her about his day with Will. He laughed when she described Dr. Keller's upset at his "education" of Will, interjecting when he had something to add from his encounter with the good doctor earlier in the day. Sitting together on the couch, they drifted into a comfortable silence after that, enjoying each other's company without the demands of conversation.

It was the singing that woke him the next morning; Will had mentioned that his mother had a beautiful voice, and though the boy was biased, Ronan did have to admit that she did sing well, with a clear, strong voice. She was working through a history lesson with Will, talking about the court of Charlemagne, when Will demanded the "Roland Song". Ronan listened as she sang of an honorable warrior, betrayed by another and ambushed by the enemy. At the end of the song, Roland was the only survivor standing before he was killed.

He could certainly relate to that; seeing Sateda on the screen in the Atlantis control room four years before had torn his last hope of a homeland from his heart. He crossed the room on quiet feet, watching dark and red heads bent over a book. After four years of searching, he had found only a handful of Satedans left alive, and had been betrayed by those he had held closest. As strange as some of the Tau'ri customs were, these people and Atlantis were quickly becoming home.


	5. An Alien Battlefield Part 3

_Okay, this chapter's just not been very cooperative in going together for me - I'm not as happy with it as I should be, but I'm tired of holding up the rest of the story & a couple more I'm working up. If you like Kit, you're going to love Lily and Anne in some upcoming stories I've got in mind:) CEMV_

Barely keeping his panic beneath the surface, Ronon quickly backtracked through the field to where the injured were being treated. Sheppard and Teyla ran along behind him, struggling to keep up to the tall Satedan's stride. He began searching the rows of wounded, watching for pale skin, red hair, a white belt, a golden chain, a spur . . . . nothing.

There were horrific sights in the healer's area, though; men missing arms, feet, ears, those whose fate balanced on the blade of a knife, and those who would not survive the night. He darted over to a slender form with a bit of red hair sticking out; the boy was barely into his teens, and would go through life without his left leg. A spur hung off the boot of an old man, who would not live out the day. A young woman, who had been caught up in the fray, beaten and bloody. The images of the wounded haunted him, imagining her blood spilled and staining her clothes. After going through the wounded twice, Sheppard caught his attention.

"Uh, buddy, I don't know how to say this, but maybe we need to check . . ." His eyes drifted to the left, suggesting a possibility Ronon didn't want to consider. The dead lay awaiting burial, in neat rows, covered in blood and gore. He looked back at John, whose eyes were saying what he couldn't suggest to his best friend.

"No. I can't believe she's there yet." Ronon shook his head in fierce denial. Not after Melina. Not after he'd so tentatively opened his heart to this woman and her son. Not after so many years and so much hardship and agony.

He'd always felt that he should have done more to get Melina off of Sateda, so that she would be safe, if angry, and they could have gone on together. He'd spent seven years doubting his decision, and several more on Atlantis justifying his decision to himself. Now he was doubting his judgement again in having let Kit out of his sight. Surely the Ancestors would not be so cruel. Why hadn't he talked to her - okay, shown her - what he felt for her?

_She had been working late one night when he brought her supper to the lab. She was sitting on a stool, her wavy red hair trailing down to tease her shoulder blades, wearing a dress the same green as her eyes. McKay had been chattering along as he always did; Ronon always found it annoying, but she seemed to handle the questions with the same grace she handled everything else Atlantis had handed her._

_"Why do you always wear that white belt and the spurs? Not like there's any horses here," was McKay's query as he walked through the door. Meeting Ronon's eyes with an amused smile, she took her dinner and nodded her head at a nearby stool. He perched on the stool, watching her smile deepen further as he remained ready to move._

_"The belt, spurs and my gold chain are symbols of knightly virtues. The white in the belt is to remember to defend the innocent; gold never tarnishes so it reminds me of purity of purpose and it's weight of the weight of duty. The spurs are a symbol of nobility; that I am no longer allowed to take the common route through a problem, but must solve it to the benefit of all." Her smile was the same as when dealing with William's sometimes over-excited questioning; the ivory of her skin seemed lit up from within as she "educated" the genius._

_"Well, you don't sleep in them or anything, right?" Rodney just never knew when to quit, short of having Ronon get in his face to stop his nonstop chatter._

_"Just the chain. There!" The device she had been working on lit up, casting a pinkish glow on her cheeks; or was she blushing?_

_"Wait a minute, you mean just the chain like nothing else, or the chain and . . . . . . um, never mind." For all of McKay's genius, he really could stick his foot in his mouth. She was definitely blushing now; before Ronon glanced away, he noticed her chest flushing. _I wonder if that happens when she . . . . ._ he quickly stopped that chain of thought. She was in his care, but he had no business thinking about what she looked like in the throes of passion. Clearing his throat, he glanced at her food when she looked up at him._

_"Yes, I'm done, and yes, you can have the rest," she shot him an amused look, just keeping the giggle from escaping her lips._

_At that point, Sheppard called them on the radio. The SGC had just found a planet with a device that seemed to reinitialize ZPM's, and needed a team to go check it out immediately._

He went back to where he had last seen her, searching the muddy ground for small prints. He found some near the rear of where the unit had been waiting; as Teyla and Sheppard kept the soldiers out of the area he was studying, he heard them asking about her to the men walking past. With a great deal of patience, he traced his way from one marred print to the next, watching for the small imprint from the spur behind it. Looking up, he realized he had traveled several hundred feet in a random path, following any sign of her as the battle had swayed back and forth across the valley. He then found himself unable to find any further tracks, close to the front of the lines.

Just then, a healer walked by, bearing a torch to light a fire at her tent. He swept down like a hawk at the glint of metal buried in the mud. His hands trembling, he pulled her broken gold chain from the mud, a spur beside it.


	6. Chapter 6

Hi all,

Sorry it's taking me so long to update - reality stepped in with grad school and an assistantship, which completely torpedoed my time. I'm going to start updating this much more regularly (weekly to bi-weekly) along with a few other stories I'm looking forward to starting. Thanks for reading!

Cat


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