The rain had let up to a mist, white in the flickering firelight against the dark night sky. The dripping rainwater from the pines made loud snaps as it splattered onto dead leaves and other foliage. The deep scent of wet earth and plant life filled her nostrils as she breathed deep, drinking in the relative quiet. The popping and soothing hisses of the fire lulled her, it’s heat welcome against her shins as she rested with her back and head against a wall of the cave, facing the flames. Ronon was seated across the fire from her, bare-chested, arms wrapped around his thighs for warmth. His shirt was on his shins facing the fire, drying.

It wasn’t terribly cold – she even had her jacket unzipped, but the stubborn man across from her had been showing signs of illness all day. He’d been more introverted than usual, sitting often and closing his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. He shifted, moving his shirt to expose a wetter area, his gaze searching out to the night-veiled valley below where the stargate was nestled in a meadow. He sighed almost inaudibly then rested his cheek against his knees. She felt a smile tug at her lips.

Teyla started to shrug off her coat. “You may borrow this, if you-”

“I’m not cold.”

The firelight flickered off of his skin and she could see goose bumps. She arched a brow and shrugged her coat back on. “Of course... how foolish of me.”

He turned his head towards her and she smiled to let him know it was a joke. He didn’t return the smile but rather inched closer to the fire. She resisted the urge to radio Col. Sheppard to check his status on his returning journey to the ‘gate.

The rain had stopped now and the dripping of the trees was lessening. She crouched before the fire and added more wood. Some of it was still wet and steamed and smoldered in the flames. She sighed and sat back against the cave wall, flicking her bangs out of her eyes. She let her elbows rest on her knees, her wrists crossed as she gazed into the flames. They drew her in with their siren colors, shifting shades of heat. They seemed to dance and the sparks that rose with the smoke gyred and disappeared. It brought her peace.

“What are you thinking about?”

Her trance was broken by his voice, slightly hoarse from disuse and quiet. She drew in a deep breath, looking to him then the flames again. His temple was resting against his knee as he watched her. “...I was just thinking how the flames seem to take on a shape and life of their own.”

He rested his chin on his knees, looking into the fire as well. “They do.”

She eyed him for a few more heartbeats, narrowing her eyes slightly. “You spent many nights such as this as a Runner, did you not?”

He sniffed a little and she noted that he sounded congested. “Yeah.”

“...You must have been very lonely.”

Keen green eyes flicked to hers then to the mouth of the cave once more. He itched at his left arm with his right. “Sometimes during the day.”

“Why not at night?” She cocked her head.

“Well... when I’d,” he gestured to the flames, “build a fire I was okay.”

“The warmth helped you then?”

He shrugged a little. “Probably.” He was looking into the flames again and he fell silent. She also watched the licked wood, the ashes on the rim of the fire near the cave entrance fluttering in the breeze. “But... more that that, though.” He looked to her again and inclined his head toward the fire. “Like you said, shadows dance behind the firelight. And...” He took in a deep breath, beginning to show some weariness. He continued as he exhaled. “...All the spirits of the night remind us we are not alone.”

A corner of her mouth curved up. “Many see gods in the flames. What do you see?”

“Companions in the warmth. A reminder of tomorrow - the sun soon rising.”

She felt her heart lift at his words for she was beginning to glimpse the secret strength that had helped Ronon survive as a Runner. “Yes. There is always a new day.”

“...A new day for remembering.”

She leaned forward a bit, trying to catch his eyes but he would not look to her. “Ronon – your days as a Runner are over. You are free now. You may have whatever future you wish. Sometimes we must let go of the past to better see our opportunities.”

“I can’t let go.”

She took a risk. “You can’t or you do not want to?”

“Both.” He turned his head to look at her. “Because they’re the same.”

She sighed and leaned back against the cave wall again. “What are?”

“The past and the present.”

“No, Ronon, they are different.” For a moment she had thought she was getting through to him – convincing him to begin to let go of the hurt and anger. How could she make him understand that he could begin again? That he was free to breathe and to reach the full potential she saw inside of him?

“They are.” He rested his chin on his knees once more, his eyes traveling the arch of the stone that made the mouth of the cave. “You are what you have been.”

She sighed and felt her hope dip even more inside her chest. He shifted, folding his arms over his stomach before leaning against his legs again with a small shiver. Her brows furrowed. “Do you truly believe you have not changed since we met you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But that is what you meant, is it not?”

“No.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He poked at the fire with a thin branch. “I said I’d sometimes get lonely during the day, because I’d spend a lot of time remembering what once was. Then I’d look at who and where I was at that moment, and I’d feel alone. But everyday I lived in the memories, in the past and the present.” He looked over at her again. “It’s who we are, Teyla. The past is who we are right here, right now.”

She allowed his words to sink in, compounded by the way the firelight danced in his eyes. “I suppose that is true. Time is.... a river that flows endlessly.”

He shifted his weight, his boots making a soft scuffing noise. “Yesterday is here beside us and it’s never far away. It’s good to remember.”

She smiled. “Especially to remember those who are no longer with us.”

He nodded solemnly, his hair falling over his shoulders as he gazed into the fire. Her heart went out to him, for in that moment, in that small gesture, he showed his youth and his vulnerability that he usually hid so well under a stony mask. She recalled the MALP images of a destroyed Sateda and knew that he had much remembering to do.

A reflective silence fell between them. As the wind picked up again she noticed that he started to quiver. He shifted again, hunching in on himself even more. His eyes were closed and he was starting to drift. She smiled, closing her own eyes. They snapped open again at a loud slap. Ronon had started to fall over in his sleep had and flung out a palm to catch himself. She bit her lower lip, stifling a laugh as he looked to her confusedly, momentarily dazed by sleep and fever. She stretched out her legs in front of her and patted her lap. “Come here.”

He rubbed his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been shaking for the past hour, Ronon. You have a fever.” He looked about to fall asleep again and she laughed quietly. Her laugh woke him a bit more and he looked to her. She arched a brow with a smirk. After another moment of hesitation he crawled across the few feet between them and she placed a hand on his temple, guiding his head to rest on her lap. She brushed his hair out of his half-lidded eyes, frowning slightly at how hot his skin was. “You are burning up.”

He didn’t respond, his eyes drifting shut and his muscles slowly relaxing. Once his eyes were closed she lay her hand on his arm, running her thumb along his shoulder, humming quietly. She closed her eyes, the sounds of the fire lulling her. He surprised her when he spoke. “Are you singing?”

She smiled. “I was humming, yes.”

“It’s pretty.”

“It is a song my mother used to sing to me.”

There was a pause. “Will you sing it?”

She hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. “You want me to?”

He sighed, his eyes closed. “Sure.”

She moved another lock of his hair, looking down at him. “Only if you go to sleep.”

He shifted, curling up more. “Okay.”

She smirked, tempted to laugh at his behavior and tucked her bangs behind her ear, ensuring that her radio was still on incase Sheppard tried to reach them again. She hummed for a while, then quietly sang.

("Lullaby" from Taking The Long Way by The Dixie Chicks)

“They didn't have you where I come from

How long do you want to be loved

I slip in bed when you're asleep

How long do you want to be loved

As you wander through this troubled world

How long do you want to be loved

How long do you want to be loved

As she finished the song her cheeks began to color slightly. She had always thought of the lullaby as being about the love between a parent and child, but looking down at the sleeping Satedan it struck her that it could just as easily be about anyone loved. She realized that she’d been running her fingers across a knot of his hair as she sang and she stilled her hand, biting her lower lip as he shifted on her lap, yet his expression was peaceful and his breathing was even.

She cocked her head as she watched his face for a few moments longer, noting the small beads of sweat along his hairline and the smoothness of his skin. His height and hardened expressions had always made him seem wizened, as if he harbored the spirit of an ancient warrior, yet looking at him now she saw the hardships lifted, revealing the youth that his time as a Runner had stolen from him - the youth that so often expressed itself in impulsive actions and an inability to harness his anger.

She couldn’t blame him for being angry, and she knew that, given time, he may learn to laugh more, to begin to live the light that he lost in his years of fettered shadow. When he first joined the team she had asked him how old he was when he had been taken in the culling of his world. The answer had haunted her ever since. Nineteen. Still a child, in her opinion. He had come of age as a Runner. She could forgive him for his faults and smiled a little when she thought of how he’d changed since they’d first met. His eyes had slowly warmed and he’d begun to trust again. The evidence was his head in her lap at that moment and his allowance of her hand to rest on his heated shoulder.

She thought back to their earlier conversation. He hadn’t been refusing to change as she had first thought. He was gifting her some of the aged light of the stars – that wisdom he had earned wandering below their depths, haunted and hunted. She realized now why the firelight in his eyes had rendered his words so truthful. They’d taken on the whimsical shade of faerie green, starlight dancing. Starlight wisdom. She closed her eyes, the lullaby of the fire and Ronon’s steady breathing and heartbeat swiftly calling to her. As she drifted, her heart fluttered with the hope of tomorrow and the sun soon rising, all their yesterdays at their side, guiding them forward.

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Listen To The Wind

Listen To The Wind Home
I. Prologue: The Legends of Leaves
II. A Whisper, A Kiss In A Dream
IV. We Thought Our Hearts Would Break
V. It Always Remains
VI. I'm Not Really Gone
VII. High Up In The Trees
VIII. Epilogue: Strong Wind