Fic: Seeing Past the Future (1/1 SGA)

[thefrogg]

Title: Seeing Past the Future
Author: thefrogg
Beta:  blue_oceandeep
Rating: PG13-ish
Disclaimer:  Everyone belongs to other people.  Damnit.
Summary:  A shared need for solitude leads to a sharing of the past.
Author's Notes:  This is...probably an AU.  Probably set sometime post-S4.  Todd's become persona non grata to the Wraith, and while not entirely trusted in Atlantis, he's been granted sanctuary there and become a valuable ally.

Huge huge huge thanks to my beta, blue_oceandeep, for beating me repeatedly with a nonexistent eyebrow.  This story is so much better than it would have been without her.::hugs::

"Ahh, here you are."  Todd's voice echoed oddly in the corridor, bouncing off fallen supports and sections of wall that had yet to be cleared.

Ronon paused, barely glancing up from the bracer in his hands.  "What's Sheppard want now?"

The skin around Todd's eyes crinkled, distorting his tattoo.  "And what does John Sheppard have to do with my being here?"

Ronon only snorted in answer.

"True, true.  Perhaps I only came to satisfy my curiosity."  Ignoring the pointed silence, Todd picked his way through the loose rubble to the alcove where Ronon had planted himself.  The tall windows behind the Satedan looked out over the southwest pier, spilling light through floating dust.  "This is...nice.  Private."

"Would be," Ronon grunted.

"Would you rather I left?" Todd asked.  "At least this way, I can always tell John Sheppard I am busy looking for you."  Instead of already having found you, he didn't say.  He and Ronon had both taken to finding uninterruptable privacy in damaged sections of the city, areas the sensors no longer worked, and the only reliable way to find one was to send the other.  It made for an uneasy comaraderie.

"Suit yourself."  Ronon put down the bracer long enough to add more oil to the rag in his hand.  His radio lay on the bench past the cluster of supplies.

"Hmm."  Todd stared out the windows, watching the afternoon sunlight glint off water and city both.  "I do not believe I have ever seen a human pay that much attention to a piece of...clothing?"

"So?"

"Surely your bracers do not require such...dedication."

"What's it to you?"

Todd turned neutral golden eyes on his seeming unwilling companion.  "I can only assume they have some sentimental value."

Ronon laughed, a sharp bark of ironic humor.  "You really see me as putting sentimental value in things?"  He shook his head, glancing down pointedly.

Leather slid against itself as Todd shrugged, a gesture picked up from the humans.  He'd argued his uninvolvement with Ronon's past enough to make it unnecessary.  "Your tattoos -- granted, part of you.  Your weapon.  The knives you keep hidden on your person.  Shall I go on?"

Ronon muttered a few Satedan epithets.  "Besides my weapons.  Sateda had some of the best."

"Yet you attach no sentimental value to your armor."

"Not these," Ronon finally answered.

"Then an old set," Todd guessed.

"In families like mine, back on Sateda - traditional military, where at least a few served in every generation - it was custom to send off a new recruit with a pair of bracers like this," and Ronon held up the one he was working on, turning it over.  "The military would provide armor and other gear, but these, they'd let us have.  Parents would put their family records in the inside, a cluster of stitches for each person who served, colors to tell which branch, commendations, that kind of thing."  He paused, prying open the stiff leather, and rubbed his thumb across the blank inner surface.  "My father's unit insignia would have been here.  The bars for each medal he earned."

Todd waited in silence until Ronon shook himself free of the memories.  "You lost them?"

This time, Ronon actually looked up at him, tilting his head until his dreads shifted to his other shoulder.  "No, I went through a growth spurt my fourth year in the service.  Outgrew them, and the Wraith attacked before I had a chance to have the patterns transfered.  After that, there were more important things to worry about."

"Ah."  Todd was silent for a long moment, unable to offer sympathy.  Then, "You would have it done now?"

Ronon shrugged.  "If I could find someone I trusted not to mess it up.  Or my bracers."

"Mmm."

"What about you?"

"Mmm?  What about me?"  Todd shifted back towards Ronon, the tail of his coat rustling.

"I told you my story, what about you?  How'd you get your first, what, armor?"

Emotionless yellow eyes stared back for a long moment before returning to the window.

"Hey, I--"

"The Hive I was hatched in," Todd started, cutting off Ronon's protest, "was not the Hive I was bound to for most of my life.  The old queen had a daughter, and was hatching crew and soldiers to serve the new Hive; I was one of these."  His gaze unfocused, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he fell into his own memories.  "The Armsmaster had the training of all of the new soldiers and drones; to say that he was cruel would be to say that Atlantis is just a city."

Ronon said nothing.

"Fully half of those he trained were utterly broken, fit for nothing but fodder for the others, and the rest not much better.  I thought him a waste, but had no standing, being that young."  Talons bit into his palms, wounds closing automatically over the points so that only a few drops of ichor dripped to the floor.  

"Did you have to train with him?"

"I was supposed to," Todd hissed, spine straightening.  "He called me to the training arena to spar.  I went - what else could I do? - and found him with the young queen.  Back then, I was..."  He laughed, an ugly smile on his lips.  "Young.  Naive.  Blind to my brothers' faults.  I did not realize, then, that that was..."  Breaking off, he jerked his head sideways, sweeping the edge of the window with his gaze before looking down in shame and anger.

Ronon watched silently as Todd stared down at his fists, talons sealed beneath the skin of his palms.  The rage on the Wraith's face was not something to be challenged, or redirected through interruption.  There were things rising from the murk of Todd's past Ronon did not want to know.

Talons pulled out of flesh, ichor streaming over pale skin.  Todd ignored the pain.  "There is a saying among my people, 'Cruelty may serve to protect you and yours.  Too much, and it will only go to serve your death.'"

"You killed him."

"Of course.  That's where the saying comes from."  He paused.  "The young queen made me her Hive commander."

"Huh.  Surprised the old queen didn't kill you for it."

"By all rights, she should have."  Todd cocked his head to one side.  "I believe she didn't want me to make an example of her, as I did her armsmaster."

"And how's that?" Ronon asked, ignoring his instincts to clarify the obvious half-truth.

"As far as I know?  I have the only set of Wraithskin armor in existence."

Comments

[drakgan.livejournal.com]

ya know...i had a dream couple nights back that i was being fed on (shut-up i know) and i had used it a trick to rip HIS heart out. i woke up half way through eating him (in the traditional native-american sense ya wonderously twisted perves)

i'm begining to think i might be having a wraith overdose...

oh and Todd was there...i really don't know what he was doing...