If At First You Don’t Succeed: Chapter 5
Jan. 21st, 2024 11:15 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stringertheoryTitle: If At First You Don’t Succeed
Rating: R
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagen, John Sheppard
Word Count: 2934
Categories: action, drama, angst, hurt/comfort, team as family
Spoilers: none
Warnings: graphic violence and injuries; temporary character death
Summary: In a far corner of the galaxy, Ronon watches Sheppard, Teyla, and McKay die over and over again. And he follows them, over and over again.
He’s the only one who can remember, the only one who can save them—if he can figure out how.
Time isn’t running out, but that might be the problem.
“Ronon!”
The voice wasn’t whispery with weakness, nor the sound of his name filled with bottomless anguish. McKay sounded just like himself, annoyed and snappy and demanding and so very much alive that Ronon reacted without consciously meaning to. Spinning blindly away from the cylinder and the table it was on, he reached McKay in two strides and pulled him into a tight hug.
Even through his overwhelming relief—they were all alive again, it wasn’t over yet, they were alive—Ronon could sense the bemused silence that had descended on the room. Teyla was watching him with an expression of questioning amusement, and though Sheppard’s eyes showed hints of concern, a lazy smile was beginning to spread across his face. McKay held himself stiffly in Ronon’s embrace, and Ronon could feel the frown he wore even though he couldn’t see it.
“Why are you hugging me?” he asked with clear suspicion, the question muffled by the fact that his face was smushed against Ronon’s shoulder. Then he relaxed slightly, his tone taking on a hint of reproach. “Displays of affection won’t distract me from berating you if you’ve touched something you shouldn’t have.”
Unable to bring himself to mention that it was McKay who had touched something he shouldn’t have this time, Ronon released him with a croak of laughter that camped firmly on the border of being hysterical. McKay backed away a few steps and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Ronon a wary and expectant stare. Ronon looked into those eyes, no longer aged and pained, and felt like he could laugh and cry at the same time. He cleared the lump from his throat.
“You died.” Ronon looked from McKay to Teyla, and then over at Sheppard. “We all keep dying and I’m the only one that remembers.”
“What are you—” McKay started.
“It’s a time loop. This is the—” Ronon paused, counting deaths “—fifth time we’ve done this. We keep dying and starting over again, and we haven’t figured out why.”
Though McKay appeared skeptical and ready to launch into a monologue about why they couldn’t be in a time loop, Ronon was prepared for that. He turned to Sheppard before McKay could open his mouth.
“You knew about time loops,” he told Sheppard. “You said there was one that happened back at the SGC, lasted for months.”
Sheppard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he was nodding. “Yeah, there was. And only two people knew that it was happening; everybody else was oblivious.”
McKay scoffed. “But they also knew what had caused it, what with the massive piece of technology covered with Ancient writing that controlled it and the decidedly elaborate solar storm light show that triggered it!” He jabbed a finger in Ronon’s direction. “But you said you have no idea how this loop started.”
Though he merely sounded irritated, Ronon noted the slight shaking in McKay’s raised hand and the way his pupils had dilated and knew that he was unsettled, too. Ronon got the impression that McKay was strongly hoping that he was either wrong about the loops or lying, and was anxiously waiting for Ronon to admit the same. But all Ronon could do was shake his head.
“We hadn’t found anything yet,” he said.
“But we’ve been looking?” Sheppard asked.
“Yeah, but we never make it very far before we die. I still don’t even know how big this place is, and whatever’s causing the loop could be anywhere in it.”
Sheppard was looking contemplative, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he glanced back toward the door. “If that’s the case, maybe we should split up, cov—”
“No!”
The single word flew out of Ronon in a desperate, reflexive yelp, the suddenness and volume causing the rest of the team startle. Under other circumstances, he probably would have been more than a little embarrassed by the outburst, but the fear that had flared white-hot inside his chest at Sheppard’s suggestion burned away any potential for shame. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he continued.
“It’s too dangerous. We need to stay together, however long it takes.” A thought came to him and, recognizing that he had more than just feelings to justify his stance, he added, “Especially since I’m the only one who remembers what happens, including all the things that have already killed us.”
Sheppard immediately nodded in understanding and didn’t press the issue. McKay, however, was watching Ronon with a disturbed expression.
“How exactly have we died?” he hesitantly asked.
Ronon gave him a dark, hollow glance, not quite meeting his eyes, worried what his own might give away. “Would you really want to know?”
McKay seemed to waver for a few seconds, but something in Ronon’s expression must have been damper enough even for his insatiable curiosity because he sharply shook his head and looked away. “No.”
Behind him, Sheppard and Teyla exchanged a look in a language Ronon didn’t understand. Then Teyla’s shoulders rose and fell almost imperceptibly and the faintly troubled expression she wore shifted into something more resolute.
“Where should we go now?” she asked. “You indicated that we will need to search for whatever is causing the loop?”
“Yeah, but…” Ronon trailed off, the fragility of his plan to keep them safe by keeping them together suddenly hitting him. After all, being together hadn’t protected them so far.
The truth was, the only person who had to explore the facility was him. If time looped again, nobody else would remember anything they had seen or found anyway, so everyone searching on their own didn’t make any sense. Ronon debated taking only McKay with him to complete the search, since McKay would be able to identify the device they were looking for even if Ronon couldn’t. But if McKay was tagging along, it actually made more sense to bring Teyla and Sheppard, too, to keep watch and provide cover, if needed.
So they would see if they could find a way out together. But if they were going to have any hope of doing so without dying, Ronon knew he’d have to establish some ground rules. His eyes drifted over the others where they stood, watching him with expectant airs.
“We’re going to have to stay together,” he advised, “and everybody’s going to have to do exactly what I say.” He shot Sheppard and McKay warning looks. “Which includes not touching anything unless I say you can.”
Whether he truly believed Ronon or not about the loops, Sheppard seemed to concede to the gravity of the situation and didn’t even twitch at the implied dig, instead readily agreeing to keep his hands to himself. McKay, however, was indignant, protesting about how he was the expert concerning Ancient technology and would know better than Ronon what was dangerous. Knowing what he had to do, Ronon gave his blunt rebuttal as soon as McKay took a breath.
“You touched something the last time and it got us all killed.”
McKay’s complaints spluttered to a halt. He looked both confused and horrified, but it was the flare of curiosity in his eyes that worried Ronon. Because he was sure that McKay was going to ask exactly what he’d touched and what had happened, and if he did, Ronon knew that he would tell him. And he didn’t think either of them would be better for it.
But then McKay seemed to deflate a bit as he sighed, promising that he wouldn’t touch anything without getting permission first.
Back out in the hall, Ronon pointed toward the sealing room. Avoiding the others’ gazes, he told them that it was an empty death trap, and that the hallway at the end and to the left was, too. After he described the two staircases leading off of the hall that they hadn’t explored yet, and the general layout of what he could remember on the other side of the facility, it was mutually decided that they would take the stairs that led up at the end of the hall and see what that section held.
Torn between leading the way and being the first to danger, or herding the team from behind so that he could see them and be sure none of them tried to sneak off to what would no doubt be their certain deaths, Ronon hesitated. After a second’s internal debate, he settled for taking point like he had so far, but with a lot more checking over his shoulders as he went.
In that way, they managed to get up the stairs to the new hall without losing anyone, though Ronon did catch Sheppard and Teyla exchanging concerned glances over his paranoid behavior. He didn’t blame them, but he also wasn’t about to relax. He wasn’t sure he could.
Once at the top of the stairs, Ronon paused. Now that he was on the same level with it, he could tell that the hallway was much shorter than what he’d originally thought, probably closer to half the hundred yards he’d estimated. He could also tell that it turned back to the right at its end, since there was more light coming from that branch than was in the hallway where he stood. Normally that would have drawn him further on, the light acting like a beacon, but the memory of the last hallway he’d been in with a brightly lit end section easily squashed that instinct.
Besides, there were doors along the hall that they needed to check out, however little he actually wanted to. Squaring his shoulders, he walked to the first one. Unusually, it had an actual doorknob, as opposed to a control panel, which brought Ronon up short. Feeling disproportionately anxious for someone who was only opening a door, he took a deep breath. Then, in one mostly fluid motion, he grabbed the knob, turned it, and yanked open the door, leveling his blaster at the empty space revealed behind it.
Only to find himself staring into a small supply closet, filled with dust more than anything else. A cloud of it had been pulled into the hallway by the door’s motion, and as Ronon frowned suspiciously at the items he could make out in the closet’s gloom, McKay sneezed.
“I think you’ve got those cleaning supplies cornered, buddy.”
Ronon glowered over his shoulder at Sheppard, who looked far too amused for the circumstances. Slamming the door shut—the few items in the closet rattling in protest—Ronon stalked past Sheppard and on to the next room, which turned out to be another lab. Or at least that’s what they collectively decided it had been, given its size. There wasn’t actually anything in it, not even a table or chair, but Teyla pointed out marks on the floor that indicated something large had at one time been secured in place in the center of the room.
McKay seemed very put out that it was no longer there, and grumbled the entire way to the lab next door. This one still had a few pieces of equipment in it, but none that were significant finds. “This stuff would be considered rudimentary even back on Earth,” he sniffed with obvious disdain.
And so they moved on to the last room on the hall. Or at least they tried; when Ronon waved his hand over the controls, its door didn’t budge. Nor did it make any noises indicating it was trying to.
Ronon wanted to take the uncooperative door as a sign and move on. But McKay immediately piped up to say that he could get it open—fifteen seconds, won’t even take me that, it’s ridiculously easy—and that a locked door might hide exactly what they were looking for, anyway. Knowing he was right, but still reluctant for reasons he wouldn’t have been able to put into words, Ronon looked over at him.
McKay’s expression was a mix of determination and anticipation, the subtle twitching of his fingers a well-known signal, and confusion drifted across Ronon’s mind for a moment as his subconscious alerted him to something it expected but wasn’t getting. Then McKay’s eyes darted from Ronon’s to the door control panel and back again, and Ronon realized what it was. Usually by now McKay would have rudely shoved him aside and been halfway through dismantling the panel’s circuits. In fact, usually McKay wouldn’t have even bothered explaining that he could do something; he would’ve just done it.
It took Ronon another second to understand why he wasn’t. McKay had made him a promise: no touching things without permission. He was keeping his hands to himself, waiting for Ronon to okay the tinkering, and Ronon was, despite everything, a little impressed by the uncharacteristic show of self-restraint.
McKay was being true to his word, for all the good it did.
Because he did get the door open, and in only ten seconds, by Sheppard’s timing. And, almost reflexively, he walked right into the room behind it as soon as it opened, before Ronon could say anything or step forward to go first. The others followed in the typical order on his heels—Sheppard, then Teyla, with the expectation of Ronon bringing up the rear guard. It was the same sort of maneuver they’d done dozens of times before.
Teyla was just clearing the threshold when it all went wrong.
The first sign Ronon got was an inhuman screech, a cry that bent and shattered pitch in ways that made it feel like his body was turning inside out. It didn’t seem like it could be coming from anything alive, and it wasn’t until he looked into the room and saw McKay that he understood where the sound was coming from.
McKay was hovering two feet off the floor of the lab, his body rigid and back arched and mouth open. Points of light burned at various spots on his body, glowing white embers that seemed to spread across his skin even as Ronon noticed them. There was also a sickly aura emanating from him, something unnatural not in its origin, but in its current placement; it didn’t belong around McKay, didn’t belong anywhere near him.
Sheppard and Teyla were almost immediately affected, too. As if in slow motion, Ronon watched them both rise in the air, bodies contorting a bit at first before they went rigid just like McKay’s. They had the same aura, the same glowing spots, the same inhuman screams that Ronon knew would haunt the nightmares he’d have if they ever managed to get out of the loop.
A smell in the air caught his attention, something vaguely familiar and sickening—slightly sweet, slightly salty, all wrong. His stomach turned over as he realized what it was: the scent of burning flesh.
The air crackled and popped, the hair on his arms standing up, and his heart stuttered.
Though it had only taken him a few seconds to register the entire horrific scene, he did it while still in motion. It had been instinctive, following the rest of the team into the room as he always did, and he’d almost made it inside before they’d gotten caught up in whatever was happening. As a result, he hadn’t had time to stop. If anything, all the signals of their distress had subconsciously hurried him on, and his body was bracing to break into a half jog even as he entered the room.
There was a moment, just before he felt himself being lifted into the air, where he knew with absolute clarity that he was going to die. It was a calm thought that drifted across his mind like a seed on a spring breeze, and through that calmness the moment lasted long enough for him to accept his death. It wasn’t long enough to prepare himself for it, though.
Ronon knew from cruel experience that the same level of pain could be felt in very different ways. Every type of pain was distinct, regardless of whether it matched another in intensity, sometimes even regardless of similarities in cause. The life he had lived meant that he was very well acquainted with pain’s various colors, but he also knew there would always be new shades he hadn’t encountered before.
This one was a new one. In the back of his mind, a voice said the word electrocution—the clipped pronunciation sounding suspiciously like McKay—and he couldn’t reconcile it with the harmless, buzzing jolts he’d received before. Those had barely registered as pain, more annoyance than harm.
All he felt now was white.
The Wraith feeding on him had been a deep, flashy purple-red, the same shade as the skin of the morenda fruit when it was fully ripe, that had faded in parallel to his own fading to the drop-of-water-in-blood pink of its flesh.
But this death was white, the heart of a fire burning everywhere inside him all at once. All he could see was white, all he could taste was white, his entire world was that blinding glow.
He knew he was screaming, even though he couldn’t hear it. Just like he knew his back was arched almost to the breaking point, despite the fact that he couldn’t actually feel his body anymore. Or at least he couldn’t identify where his body was beyond the pain: there were no borders or boundaries, no awareness of position or movement anymore. Only white-hot agony that seemed to make up every thing left in the universe.
It was pain beyond what he could describe, pain beyond what he could endure. And after thirty-seven seconds, it killed him.
Rating: R
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Ronon Dex, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagen, John Sheppard
Word Count: 2934
Categories: action, drama, angst, hurt/comfort, team as family
Spoilers: none
Warnings: graphic violence and injuries; temporary character death
Summary: In a far corner of the galaxy, Ronon watches Sheppard, Teyla, and McKay die over and over again. And he follows them, over and over again.
He’s the only one who can remember, the only one who can save them—if he can figure out how.
Time isn’t running out, but that might be the problem.
“Ronon!”
The voice wasn’t whispery with weakness, nor the sound of his name filled with bottomless anguish. McKay sounded just like himself, annoyed and snappy and demanding and so very much alive that Ronon reacted without consciously meaning to. Spinning blindly away from the cylinder and the table it was on, he reached McKay in two strides and pulled him into a tight hug.
Even through his overwhelming relief—they were all alive again, it wasn’t over yet, they were alive—Ronon could sense the bemused silence that had descended on the room. Teyla was watching him with an expression of questioning amusement, and though Sheppard’s eyes showed hints of concern, a lazy smile was beginning to spread across his face. McKay held himself stiffly in Ronon’s embrace, and Ronon could feel the frown he wore even though he couldn’t see it.
“Why are you hugging me?” he asked with clear suspicion, the question muffled by the fact that his face was smushed against Ronon’s shoulder. Then he relaxed slightly, his tone taking on a hint of reproach. “Displays of affection won’t distract me from berating you if you’ve touched something you shouldn’t have.”
Unable to bring himself to mention that it was McKay who had touched something he shouldn’t have this time, Ronon released him with a croak of laughter that camped firmly on the border of being hysterical. McKay backed away a few steps and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Ronon a wary and expectant stare. Ronon looked into those eyes, no longer aged and pained, and felt like he could laugh and cry at the same time. He cleared the lump from his throat.
“You died.” Ronon looked from McKay to Teyla, and then over at Sheppard. “We all keep dying and I’m the only one that remembers.”
“What are you—” McKay started.
“It’s a time loop. This is the—” Ronon paused, counting deaths “—fifth time we’ve done this. We keep dying and starting over again, and we haven’t figured out why.”
Though McKay appeared skeptical and ready to launch into a monologue about why they couldn’t be in a time loop, Ronon was prepared for that. He turned to Sheppard before McKay could open his mouth.
“You knew about time loops,” he told Sheppard. “You said there was one that happened back at the SGC, lasted for months.”
Sheppard’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he was nodding. “Yeah, there was. And only two people knew that it was happening; everybody else was oblivious.”
McKay scoffed. “But they also knew what had caused it, what with the massive piece of technology covered with Ancient writing that controlled it and the decidedly elaborate solar storm light show that triggered it!” He jabbed a finger in Ronon’s direction. “But you said you have no idea how this loop started.”
Though he merely sounded irritated, Ronon noted the slight shaking in McKay’s raised hand and the way his pupils had dilated and knew that he was unsettled, too. Ronon got the impression that McKay was strongly hoping that he was either wrong about the loops or lying, and was anxiously waiting for Ronon to admit the same. But all Ronon could do was shake his head.
“We hadn’t found anything yet,” he said.
“But we’ve been looking?” Sheppard asked.
“Yeah, but we never make it very far before we die. I still don’t even know how big this place is, and whatever’s causing the loop could be anywhere in it.”
Sheppard was looking contemplative, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he glanced back toward the door. “If that’s the case, maybe we should split up, cov—”
“No!”
The single word flew out of Ronon in a desperate, reflexive yelp, the suddenness and volume causing the rest of the team startle. Under other circumstances, he probably would have been more than a little embarrassed by the outburst, but the fear that had flared white-hot inside his chest at Sheppard’s suggestion burned away any potential for shame. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he continued.
“It’s too dangerous. We need to stay together, however long it takes.” A thought came to him and, recognizing that he had more than just feelings to justify his stance, he added, “Especially since I’m the only one who remembers what happens, including all the things that have already killed us.”
Sheppard immediately nodded in understanding and didn’t press the issue. McKay, however, was watching Ronon with a disturbed expression.
“How exactly have we died?” he hesitantly asked.
Ronon gave him a dark, hollow glance, not quite meeting his eyes, worried what his own might give away. “Would you really want to know?”
McKay seemed to waver for a few seconds, but something in Ronon’s expression must have been damper enough even for his insatiable curiosity because he sharply shook his head and looked away. “No.”
Behind him, Sheppard and Teyla exchanged a look in a language Ronon didn’t understand. Then Teyla’s shoulders rose and fell almost imperceptibly and the faintly troubled expression she wore shifted into something more resolute.
“Where should we go now?” she asked. “You indicated that we will need to search for whatever is causing the loop?”
“Yeah, but…” Ronon trailed off, the fragility of his plan to keep them safe by keeping them together suddenly hitting him. After all, being together hadn’t protected them so far.
The truth was, the only person who had to explore the facility was him. If time looped again, nobody else would remember anything they had seen or found anyway, so everyone searching on their own didn’t make any sense. Ronon debated taking only McKay with him to complete the search, since McKay would be able to identify the device they were looking for even if Ronon couldn’t. But if McKay was tagging along, it actually made more sense to bring Teyla and Sheppard, too, to keep watch and provide cover, if needed.
So they would see if they could find a way out together. But if they were going to have any hope of doing so without dying, Ronon knew he’d have to establish some ground rules. His eyes drifted over the others where they stood, watching him with expectant airs.
“We’re going to have to stay together,” he advised, “and everybody’s going to have to do exactly what I say.” He shot Sheppard and McKay warning looks. “Which includes not touching anything unless I say you can.”
Whether he truly believed Ronon or not about the loops, Sheppard seemed to concede to the gravity of the situation and didn’t even twitch at the implied dig, instead readily agreeing to keep his hands to himself. McKay, however, was indignant, protesting about how he was the expert concerning Ancient technology and would know better than Ronon what was dangerous. Knowing what he had to do, Ronon gave his blunt rebuttal as soon as McKay took a breath.
“You touched something the last time and it got us all killed.”
McKay’s complaints spluttered to a halt. He looked both confused and horrified, but it was the flare of curiosity in his eyes that worried Ronon. Because he was sure that McKay was going to ask exactly what he’d touched and what had happened, and if he did, Ronon knew that he would tell him. And he didn’t think either of them would be better for it.
But then McKay seemed to deflate a bit as he sighed, promising that he wouldn’t touch anything without getting permission first.
Back out in the hall, Ronon pointed toward the sealing room. Avoiding the others’ gazes, he told them that it was an empty death trap, and that the hallway at the end and to the left was, too. After he described the two staircases leading off of the hall that they hadn’t explored yet, and the general layout of what he could remember on the other side of the facility, it was mutually decided that they would take the stairs that led up at the end of the hall and see what that section held.
Torn between leading the way and being the first to danger, or herding the team from behind so that he could see them and be sure none of them tried to sneak off to what would no doubt be their certain deaths, Ronon hesitated. After a second’s internal debate, he settled for taking point like he had so far, but with a lot more checking over his shoulders as he went.
In that way, they managed to get up the stairs to the new hall without losing anyone, though Ronon did catch Sheppard and Teyla exchanging concerned glances over his paranoid behavior. He didn’t blame them, but he also wasn’t about to relax. He wasn’t sure he could.
Once at the top of the stairs, Ronon paused. Now that he was on the same level with it, he could tell that the hallway was much shorter than what he’d originally thought, probably closer to half the hundred yards he’d estimated. He could also tell that it turned back to the right at its end, since there was more light coming from that branch than was in the hallway where he stood. Normally that would have drawn him further on, the light acting like a beacon, but the memory of the last hallway he’d been in with a brightly lit end section easily squashed that instinct.
Besides, there were doors along the hall that they needed to check out, however little he actually wanted to. Squaring his shoulders, he walked to the first one. Unusually, it had an actual doorknob, as opposed to a control panel, which brought Ronon up short. Feeling disproportionately anxious for someone who was only opening a door, he took a deep breath. Then, in one mostly fluid motion, he grabbed the knob, turned it, and yanked open the door, leveling his blaster at the empty space revealed behind it.
Only to find himself staring into a small supply closet, filled with dust more than anything else. A cloud of it had been pulled into the hallway by the door’s motion, and as Ronon frowned suspiciously at the items he could make out in the closet’s gloom, McKay sneezed.
“I think you’ve got those cleaning supplies cornered, buddy.”
Ronon glowered over his shoulder at Sheppard, who looked far too amused for the circumstances. Slamming the door shut—the few items in the closet rattling in protest—Ronon stalked past Sheppard and on to the next room, which turned out to be another lab. Or at least that’s what they collectively decided it had been, given its size. There wasn’t actually anything in it, not even a table or chair, but Teyla pointed out marks on the floor that indicated something large had at one time been secured in place in the center of the room.
McKay seemed very put out that it was no longer there, and grumbled the entire way to the lab next door. This one still had a few pieces of equipment in it, but none that were significant finds. “This stuff would be considered rudimentary even back on Earth,” he sniffed with obvious disdain.
And so they moved on to the last room on the hall. Or at least they tried; when Ronon waved his hand over the controls, its door didn’t budge. Nor did it make any noises indicating it was trying to.
Ronon wanted to take the uncooperative door as a sign and move on. But McKay immediately piped up to say that he could get it open—fifteen seconds, won’t even take me that, it’s ridiculously easy—and that a locked door might hide exactly what they were looking for, anyway. Knowing he was right, but still reluctant for reasons he wouldn’t have been able to put into words, Ronon looked over at him.
McKay’s expression was a mix of determination and anticipation, the subtle twitching of his fingers a well-known signal, and confusion drifted across Ronon’s mind for a moment as his subconscious alerted him to something it expected but wasn’t getting. Then McKay’s eyes darted from Ronon’s to the door control panel and back again, and Ronon realized what it was. Usually by now McKay would have rudely shoved him aside and been halfway through dismantling the panel’s circuits. In fact, usually McKay wouldn’t have even bothered explaining that he could do something; he would’ve just done it.
It took Ronon another second to understand why he wasn’t. McKay had made him a promise: no touching things without permission. He was keeping his hands to himself, waiting for Ronon to okay the tinkering, and Ronon was, despite everything, a little impressed by the uncharacteristic show of self-restraint.
McKay was being true to his word, for all the good it did.
Because he did get the door open, and in only ten seconds, by Sheppard’s timing. And, almost reflexively, he walked right into the room behind it as soon as it opened, before Ronon could say anything or step forward to go first. The others followed in the typical order on his heels—Sheppard, then Teyla, with the expectation of Ronon bringing up the rear guard. It was the same sort of maneuver they’d done dozens of times before.
Teyla was just clearing the threshold when it all went wrong.
The first sign Ronon got was an inhuman screech, a cry that bent and shattered pitch in ways that made it feel like his body was turning inside out. It didn’t seem like it could be coming from anything alive, and it wasn’t until he looked into the room and saw McKay that he understood where the sound was coming from.
McKay was hovering two feet off the floor of the lab, his body rigid and back arched and mouth open. Points of light burned at various spots on his body, glowing white embers that seemed to spread across his skin even as Ronon noticed them. There was also a sickly aura emanating from him, something unnatural not in its origin, but in its current placement; it didn’t belong around McKay, didn’t belong anywhere near him.
Sheppard and Teyla were almost immediately affected, too. As if in slow motion, Ronon watched them both rise in the air, bodies contorting a bit at first before they went rigid just like McKay’s. They had the same aura, the same glowing spots, the same inhuman screams that Ronon knew would haunt the nightmares he’d have if they ever managed to get out of the loop.
A smell in the air caught his attention, something vaguely familiar and sickening—slightly sweet, slightly salty, all wrong. His stomach turned over as he realized what it was: the scent of burning flesh.
The air crackled and popped, the hair on his arms standing up, and his heart stuttered.
Though it had only taken him a few seconds to register the entire horrific scene, he did it while still in motion. It had been instinctive, following the rest of the team into the room as he always did, and he’d almost made it inside before they’d gotten caught up in whatever was happening. As a result, he hadn’t had time to stop. If anything, all the signals of their distress had subconsciously hurried him on, and his body was bracing to break into a half jog even as he entered the room.
There was a moment, just before he felt himself being lifted into the air, where he knew with absolute clarity that he was going to die. It was a calm thought that drifted across his mind like a seed on a spring breeze, and through that calmness the moment lasted long enough for him to accept his death. It wasn’t long enough to prepare himself for it, though.
Ronon knew from cruel experience that the same level of pain could be felt in very different ways. Every type of pain was distinct, regardless of whether it matched another in intensity, sometimes even regardless of similarities in cause. The life he had lived meant that he was very well acquainted with pain’s various colors, but he also knew there would always be new shades he hadn’t encountered before.
This one was a new one. In the back of his mind, a voice said the word electrocution—the clipped pronunciation sounding suspiciously like McKay—and he couldn’t reconcile it with the harmless, buzzing jolts he’d received before. Those had barely registered as pain, more annoyance than harm.
All he felt now was white.
The Wraith feeding on him had been a deep, flashy purple-red, the same shade as the skin of the morenda fruit when it was fully ripe, that had faded in parallel to his own fading to the drop-of-water-in-blood pink of its flesh.
But this death was white, the heart of a fire burning everywhere inside him all at once. All he could see was white, all he could taste was white, his entire world was that blinding glow.
He knew he was screaming, even though he couldn’t hear it. Just like he knew his back was arched almost to the breaking point, despite the fact that he couldn’t actually feel his body anymore. Or at least he couldn’t identify where his body was beyond the pain: there were no borders or boundaries, no awareness of position or movement anymore. Only white-hot agony that seemed to make up every thing left in the universe.
It was pain beyond what he could describe, pain beyond what he could endure. And after thirty-seven seconds, it killed him.