Fic: Somewhere to Call Home (SGA, 3/6)
Sep. 21st, 2008 02:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thefroggTitle: Somewhere to Call Home (3/6)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
thefrogg
Beta: anonymous
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
She rents a room at the inn for a week, then tries to assuage her anxiety by planet-hopping.
She is still a Runner, and cannot stay.
~~~
Tersal's trees are bare now, the ground dusted with snow. A few hours' work snares a half dozen tallas, dark brown rodents with plush fur.
~~~
On Delgesh, the furrier smiles over the catch and doesn't bother bickering. The price she asks is little enough. She spends it all on her partner: a bag of candied fruit from Eltanith; soap and massage oils, their scent crisp and masculine; a tiny incense burner and incense.
The local barkeep has a note for her; she tucks it into her pouch unread, and leaves another behind.
I am a Runner. I was told you can help me.
~~~
The note burns a hole in her pouch, but she is worried enough for her partner.
It will wait.
~~~
Goralin is supposed to be empty, its civilization culled to extinction long before, ruins crumbled and overgrown with weeds.
Instead, she finds a single Wraith, and a single Dart, both singed around the edges.
"Don't. Move." Her pistol is steady in her hands, hatred written on her face.
He looks up, golden eyes mild. "And you would be...?"
"I am a Runner," comes out of her mouth before she can think about not answering.
"Then you can consider yourself lucky. I am not a Hunter." He wrinkles his nose in an odd sort of smile. "So you can put that away. I don't intend to harm you."
"You couldn't feed from me if you tried."
He wheezes in laughter. "That is the point in making those like yourself Runners. But feeding is not the only way I could harm you. If," he shrugs, pointing it out again, "I wanted to. Which I do not."
"If not me, then hundreds of other people. Killing you would be a mercy to them."
He stiffens in anger, his eyes going hard. "You are the Runner leaving notes all over the galaxy?"
"How." She takes a deep breath, calming the rage squeezing the breath from her lungs. Her knuckles hurt. "Did you know about that?"
"I have allies among your kind. They have been trying to find you for months." His head tilts to one side. "I could take you to them. Or," and he stops to laugh again, "take them another note."
She stares, straining to pull the trigger, and can't. If he lies, he is but one Wraith; if he tells truth, he is worth too much to kill. "I," she starts, then swallows before continuing, "am afraid I will have to decline." Before she can think twice, she flicks the pistol from kill to stun and fires.
He may be too valuable to kill, but she will not leave a Wraith at her back.
Then, just for the irony, she tucks a note in his belt.
I am a Runner. I was told you can help me.
~~~
Tense and jittery, she spends the afternoon in mindless labor on Pelgata, helping with the summer harvest. She accepts three melons and a net bag of other fruit as payment, and returns to Malkon to wait.
~~~
The door bangs open carelessly as he stumbles through the opening. He catches himself on the frame and hangs there, weaving in exhaustion.
She's on her feet, across the room before the exclamations of surprise die down, and tucks herself under his arm. "Dinner?"
"No." His voice is raspy, and he coughs; soot and grime cover his face, turning his hair black.
She catches the innkeeper's eye, and guides him to the bath.
It's her turn to be caretaker, and she strips him of weapons, then of clothes, and washes him clean of Gethat.
He sleeps wrapped around her, nose tucked in the nape of her neck.
~~~
Still weary, he wakes just after dawn; she twists in his arms, and presses a chaste kiss to his brow.
She leaves him dozing while she packs, leaving the incense burner for last.
Midmorning, he follows her from the inn wordlessly, barely noticing as she hands the innkeeper another note.
I am a Runner. I was told you can help me.
~~~
They spend two days by the stream she thinks of as theirs. He spends the first in restless slumber, waking from nightmares at her touch.
The second they spend in training, but his eyes are haunted.
Her bantos rods are on the ground long before sunset; she kneels beside them, head bowed. She can no longer bear to let him use her to punish himself.
He says nothing about Gethat.
She doesn't ask, only climbs to her feet and goes to gather dinner.
~~~
Litaven is in the first blush of spring before he visits another populated world.
She asks discreetly about Gethat, and hears tales of small wizened bodies, the village abandoned for other worlds.
He reads the knowledge in her eyes; training leaves her bruised and aching, him bloody and smoldering with self-hate.
"I am a Runner." She lifts her chin stubbornly, one hand pressed to her ribs. "You can't protect me forever."
He licks his lips, tasting blood, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, little bird, I can't. Not even from myself."
~~~
Memories of Gethat purged, he sleeps hard.
She sits, knees drawn to her chest, feeding twigs to the fire. Two moons are gone, the third near the horizon, before she remembers the note she'd gotten back on Delgesh, and pulls it from her pouch.
We are looking for you.
It is not news; the Wraith had said as much.
The parchment turns to ash in seconds.
~~~
Author:
thefrogg Beta: anonymous
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2
She rents a room at the inn for a week, then tries to assuage her anxiety by planet-hopping.
She is still a Runner, and cannot stay.
~~~
Tersal's trees are bare now, the ground dusted with snow. A few hours' work snares a half dozen tallas, dark brown rodents with plush fur.
~~~
On Delgesh, the furrier smiles over the catch and doesn't bother bickering. The price she asks is little enough. She spends it all on her partner: a bag of candied fruit from Eltanith; soap and massage oils, their scent crisp and masculine; a tiny incense burner and incense.
The local barkeep has a note for her; she tucks it into her pouch unread, and leaves another behind.
I am a Runner. I was told you can help me.
~~~
The note burns a hole in her pouch, but she is worried enough for her partner.
It will wait.
~~~
Goralin is supposed to be empty, its civilization culled to extinction long before, ruins crumbled and overgrown with weeds.
Instead, she finds a single Wraith, and a single Dart, both singed around the edges.
"Don't. Move." Her pistol is steady in her hands, hatred written on her face.
He looks up, golden eyes mild. "And you would be...?"
"I am a Runner," comes out of her mouth before she can think about not answering.
"Then you can consider yourself lucky. I am not a Hunter." He wrinkles his nose in an odd sort of smile. "So you can put that away. I don't intend to harm you."
"You couldn't feed from me if you tried."
He wheezes in laughter. "That is the point in making those like yourself Runners. But feeding is not the only way I could harm you. If," he shrugs, pointing it out again, "I wanted to. Which I do not."
"If not me, then hundreds of other people. Killing you would be a mercy to them."
He stiffens in anger, his eyes going hard. "You are the Runner leaving notes all over the galaxy?"
"How." She takes a deep breath, calming the rage squeezing the breath from her lungs. Her knuckles hurt. "Did you know about that?"
"I have allies among your kind. They have been trying to find you for months." His head tilts to one side. "I could take you to them. Or," and he stops to laugh again, "take them another note."
She stares, straining to pull the trigger, and can't. If he lies, he is but one Wraith; if he tells truth, he is worth too much to kill. "I," she starts, then swallows before continuing, "am afraid I will have to decline." Before she can think twice, she flicks the pistol from kill to stun and fires.
He may be too valuable to kill, but she will not leave a Wraith at her back.
Then, just for the irony, she tucks a note in his belt.
I am a Runner. I was told you can help me.
~~~
Tense and jittery, she spends the afternoon in mindless labor on Pelgata, helping with the summer harvest. She accepts three melons and a net bag of other fruit as payment, and returns to Malkon to wait.
~~~
The door bangs open carelessly as he stumbles through the opening. He catches himself on the frame and hangs there, weaving in exhaustion.
She's on her feet, across the room before the exclamations of surprise die down, and tucks herself under his arm. "Dinner?"
"No." His voice is raspy, and he coughs; soot and grime cover his face, turning his hair black.
She catches the innkeeper's eye, and guides him to the bath.
It's her turn to be caretaker, and she strips him of weapons, then of clothes, and washes him clean of Gethat.
He sleeps wrapped around her, nose tucked in the nape of her neck.
~~~
Still weary, he wakes just after dawn; she twists in his arms, and presses a chaste kiss to his brow.
She leaves him dozing while she packs, leaving the incense burner for last.
Midmorning, he follows her from the inn wordlessly, barely noticing as she hands the innkeeper another note.
I am a Runner. I was told you can help me.
~~~
They spend two days by the stream she thinks of as theirs. He spends the first in restless slumber, waking from nightmares at her touch.
The second they spend in training, but his eyes are haunted.
Her bantos rods are on the ground long before sunset; she kneels beside them, head bowed. She can no longer bear to let him use her to punish himself.
He says nothing about Gethat.
She doesn't ask, only climbs to her feet and goes to gather dinner.
~~~
Litaven is in the first blush of spring before he visits another populated world.
She asks discreetly about Gethat, and hears tales of small wizened bodies, the village abandoned for other worlds.
He reads the knowledge in her eyes; training leaves her bruised and aching, him bloody and smoldering with self-hate.
"I am a Runner." She lifts her chin stubbornly, one hand pressed to her ribs. "You can't protect me forever."
He licks his lips, tasting blood, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, little bird, I can't. Not even from myself."
~~~
Memories of Gethat purged, he sleeps hard.
She sits, knees drawn to her chest, feeding twigs to the fire. Two moons are gone, the third near the horizon, before she remembers the note she'd gotten back on Delgesh, and pulls it from her pouch.
We are looking for you.
It is not news; the Wraith had said as much.
The parchment turns to ash in seconds.
~~~
no subject
Date: 2009-03-15 05:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-03-27 11:52 pm (UTC)Thank you! I wanted to know more about the whole Runner concept too, which is one reason why I started writing this. (also for a couple other reasons, but that would be telling.) I have more, and more planned, and you'll find out who she is (and who he is, too), and where she came from and how she became a Runner. Eventually.
Thanks again!
no subject
Date: 2009-03-29 01:10 pm (UTC)