SGA AU FIC: TIME OF REDEMPTION 1/2 [PG-13]

[x_erikah_x]

Title: Time of Redemption 1/2
Author: x_erikah_x
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: John Sheppard and Ronon Dex with other cameos
Genre: AU, action, hurt/comfort, drama
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Mild violence, drug use
Word Count: 15,470
Disclaimer: Stargate characters belong to MGM.
Summary: Special Agent John Sheppard is an FBI agent set on protecting a witness. FBI!verse with John and Ronon friendship and several cameos by the other members of the team.

Author's Note 1: Thank you drewandian for the beta work and haruechan for the *amazing* art. Who would have guessed that the artist that selected my story lives just two hours away from my house? (BTW, we should do a SGA marathon one day! ;-)).
Author's Note 2: I wrote this story almost in one go and I'm glad I did, because it was the very last time my muse came out of hiding. It's going to be a while before I post anything SGA for some time. I have a couple of stories in the works, but I don't know if they'll see the light of day (unless someone decides to finish the last few thousand words).

Don't forget to check out the wonderful fanart by haruechan and tell her how *awesome* she is! Seriously, all the cool and important scenes are in the wonderful banner she made. It's like she capped my brain to put it down.

TIME OF REDEMPTION

By ErikaHK
 

Part I

 
John squinted in the darkness and turned his face left then right. The street was empty except for the shadow of a few women gathered at the corner and some parked vehicles. The only source of light came from that intersection and was barely able to illuminate its surroundings. He looked back at the bar he had just come from and sighed.
 
Figuring it would be no use to just stand there waiting for someone that would never show up, he decided to start his way back to his car. Lowering his head, he avoided the women coming to him.
 
"Hey baby, wanna have some fun?"
 
He let her voice die out behind him, turning the corner and leaving the sidewalk to circle his car.
 
The bar had been mostly empty and John had waited almost two hours for his contact. If he hadn't arrived yet, he wouldn't at all. It would be too risky.
 
"Don’t move."
 
John startled at the loud whisper close to his ear. He straightened and felt the tip of a gun against his back.
 
"You’re late," John said.
 
The gun pressed harder. "Did you tell them?" 
 
John raised his hands. "I didn’t do anything."
 
He started to turn, but stopped when he felt the hole marking his spine. John swallowed.
 
"Look, if you’re having any problems it’s not my fault. I honor my deals." John kept his voice normal.
 
"Maybe you screwed up." The voice was little more than an angry whisper.
 
"Believe what you want, I’m telling the truth. If I had ratted you, do you think I’d come here?"
 
The pressure eased but was still present.
 
"Who then?"
 
"I don’t even know what the hell you’re talking about!" John raised his voice slightly and hoped that had been the right choice.
 
The gun came up behind his neck.
 
"I’m talking about the price on my head." The voice wavered slightly.
 
"You got a price on your head?"
 
The cold metal rested on the back of John’s head.
 
"Yeah, know anything about that?"
 
John felt hot breath against his neck.
 
"I-I… No!" He showed in his voice just how offended he was by the accusation.
 
There was silence.
 
"I’m not suicidal, okay?" John placated.
 
"Let’s say I believe you." That, John thought, was still slightly untruthful, since the gun was still touching the back of his head. "What can you do for me?"
 
"If they are on you, then you’ve got nothing to lose, right?" John paused. When silence continued to stretch, he went on. "I can protect you. You can come forth with everything. They can’t kill you if they’re behind bars."
 
"The police can’t keep me safe." The reply was very matter-of-fact. "They’ll only make things worse."
 
"Look, Ronon, I know--"
 
John wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Next thing he felt was his head hitting the back of his car and his arms being forced against his back. He heard the weapon click behind him and reacted instinctively. He slid one leg behind him throwing his body back to make his attacker drop. Ronon easily avoided the blow, but loosened his hold around John.
 
John freed his arms and reached for the hand holding the gun, but had the ground swept off from him and fell on his back, breath knocked out of him. When he opened his eyes he saw the barrel coming up above his nose.
 
John raised his arms. "Do you think they’ll just let you off the hook? Take you back and forgive a big misunderstanding? You have a dead mark! You know the Wraith never take them off!" John slowed down. "I can help you! If you come with me, I can take you to a secret place not even the SAC will know where it is." John was breathing hard while he stared deep into Ronon's eyes. "You have my word."
 
When Ronon lowered his gun, John let out a slow deep breath. Ronon nodded then offered a hand for John to get up. John stood and rubbed his shoulder, sore from the fall.
 
"I need to get you out of town."
 
John heard the click before he saw anything else. He paused midstride between the rear and the driver's side of his car and squinted his eyes, turning around slowly to the source of the sound. Ronon was frozen on the sidewalk, stance rigid and ready to jump to action as he also scanned the surroundings. A hush made John snap his neck around to the opposite side of the street where he spotted two shadows moving quickly towards them. John reacted. He jumped to the side just as the figures started shooting. The bullets peppered the side of the vehicle, sparks marking the spots where they collided.
 
John scurried to take cover at the same time he extracted his 9mil from his shoulder holster. Ronon was by his side in an instant, gun in hand and firing back. John returned fire then ducked and lowered his head around his cover to take a look at their assailants. He saw both silhouettes in a narrow alley behind a large dumpster. Probably the bounty hunters, he thought. The street was too dark for John to have a clear shot and figured it would be a vain effort to continue with the gun fire.
 
John signaled Ronon along the side of the car and unlocked the passenger door, entering the vehicle as he tried to stay down. Ronon entered behind just as John started the engine and drove off.
 
The loud noise of a motorbike reached his ears and John glanced back long enough to spot the two dark hooded men climb on top of one to start chase. John accelerated and bent on a corner brusquely, tires screeching. He turned once more in the next intersection, but the sport bike was fast and soon caught up, staying in John’s rear mirror.
 
Lowering his head as he saw them draw their weapons, John turned right on a red light, evading a slow old Volkswagen that was crossing the avenue. After rolling down his window completely, Ronon stood and put his head out to fire at the pursuers. The bike skidded to the side, but evaded the bullets that hit the pavement instead. That had been incredibly dangerous; there had been people on the sidewalk.
 
"Ronon!" he yelled a warning, but it was completely ignored with more shooting.
 
John left the busy avenue and turned another corner, his car screaming with the strain of the sudden decision. Ronon grunted as he held on tightly to the side of the car and fired a few more shots.
 
The bike changed sides and accelerated towards them, both occupants now firing back.
 
"Dammit!" John cursed under his breath.
 
He had better find a way to finish this soon or people would get hurt. After turning one more time to reach a deserted street, John held tightly to the wheel then slammed his foot on the brakes. The motorbike passed them and took a few seconds until it slid sideways, one of the rider's shoes dragging on the pavement. Ronon reloaded quickly and fired at the bike that now was racing towards them. John joined in the firing and soon the motorcycle lost control and crashed on the road.
 
They exited the car to check on the men that lay unmoving on the ground. John went first, gun at ready, watchful for any movement. He heard a soft moaning then saw a pool of blood growing on the black pavement. He knelt down and checked the pulse of the driver, but from the bloodied state of his unprotected head, John already knew he wasn't going to find any. The passenger was trying to move away from under the bike, blood tricking from his cheek and eyes squeezed in pain.
 
"Don't move," John both warned and suggested, knowing that moving after suffering any degree of body trauma could be a bad idea, but also knowing that the guy was still an armed threat.
 
The man complied and slumped back down. Looking up, John saw Ronon covering him with his gun, so John decided to holster his own weapon and grab his cell phone to call in the emergency.
 
John had barely finished dialing when two other identical yellow motorcycles screeched around the corner and sped up in their direction.
 
"Crap," John cursed as he dove to the side.
 
Ronon had begun shooting again, his bullets hitting the side of one bike. John knelt behind his car’s opened door and fired at the attackers, his eyes growing wide when both hooded men extracted compact submachine guns and started firing. He ducked and made himself small behind the cover as Ronon hurried to join him. Both bikers passed them and John took the opportunity to make a run for it and enter his car.
 
Ronon slammed the passenger door beside him as John started the engine. The motorcycles had turned around and were returning, their bullets hitting the pavement and the side of his car, crashing the window on his side. John drove off just as police sirens grew nearer. He looked at the mirror and saw both bikers entering a narrow dark street to escape from the red lights that approached.
 
He finally sagged on his seat, but it took some time for the shaking and the adrenalin to fade.
 
John made it to the covered parking lot of the local FBI headquarters building and changed the car. He had no time for the appropriate paperwork or for any explanations and hoped he would have the chance to solve it in the next day. He emptied the glove compartment and transferred its content to the new car, not wasting any time to get back on the road.
 
+++++++++++++++
 
He kept his eyes on the street as he drove. Dim lights passed through on both sides and made it hard for him to keep an eye on any tails. It was too dark.
 
Tails never turned on the lights.
 
He glanced at the mirror every time illumination got more favorable for him to spot anything behind him, and thanks to that he was fairly sure he wasn’t being followed.
 
That, of course, wasn’t a relief since he still had a passenger to worry about. Ronon didn’t fidget, but glanced at the side mirror sometimes. He didn’t look nervous or agitated, but John had come to know that it didn’t mean anything. The only emotion John had ever seen in Ronon were anger and aggression.
 
Usually, that would imply a person that mostly only threatened without actually acting, but not with Ronon. His moves were always calculated and John knew from painful experiences that he shouldn’t mess with the guy. Ronon was way too fast for someone with his massive size.
 
John decided to break the silence and demand some explanation about him almost getting killed.
 
"Do you mind telling me what that whole thing was about?" John asked.
 
"I’ve got a price on my head."
 
Ronon hadn’t turned. His tone was neutral, but a voice like his could make a lot of men run away in fear.
 
John nodded. "Okay. What else?"
 
This time Ronon turned his head. "The Wraith set a price on my head."
 
John turned to face him, waiting for the rest. A proper explanation was the least Ronon could do after John saved his ass back there.
 
Ronon turned back to face the street. "That deal with the Genii. They interrogated Parrish." He paused. "He’s dead."
 
John frowned. "You mean, Parrish, the botanist?"
 
"Yeah. The one with the crazy plants."
 
John bit his lip and shook his head. Parrish had helped them find hundreds of kilograms of the Inzme. He had gone underground ever since the deal went down. John had tried to track him to offer some proper protection but had been unable to.
 
"How did they find him?"
 
From the corner of his eye, John saw Ronon turn towards the window. "They found his girl."
 
"He had a girl?" John asked surprised.
 
"She was his assistant, but no one knew they were together. Or at least I thought so." He turned to John. "They’re dumped in the alley between Fourth and Washington."
 
"How did you find out about the price?"
 
Ronon chuckled. "Because a gang showed up to collect it. I left them behind the bar."
 
"Dead?"
 
John felt the intensity of Ronon’s stare. "What do you think?"
 
John nodded and turned to Ronon. "Okay. We got to keep you safe and away from everything." John waved a hand as he explained. "This place I told you about, I never took anyone there before. No one knows it exists. I was keeping it for Parrish, but it seems he won’t be needing it anymore." He turned back to the road. "It’s out of town and it’s got all the proper defenses. No people around it. Trust me."
 
Ronon didn’t say anything.
 
+++++++++++++++
 
John decided to wait until they were far from the city to stop for some gas. He was hungry and tired and hadn't planned on going on a trip. The chase had left him wired and tense, his muscles sore. He took the long way out of town, making it difficult for anyone to know which direction he would head to and which road he would use.
 
Ronon hadn't said a word since their conversation. John knew that Ronon didn't hover around any business that wasn't his own and his only business was his job. Since his job was ask no questions, just do it, John figured Ronon wouldn't say anything any time soon. John was fine with it. If there was one thing John hated, it was a witness that talked too much. That was usually what got them into trouble in the first place.
 
It had taken John months to finally figure out the guy had a voice. John had always known there was more going on inside his head that Ronon let on and wasn't disappointed when he had finally found out what. He had proven to be a very trustworthy ally inside the Wraith group and time and time again came up with a key piece of intel that had brought John really close of dismantling the whole thing.
 
They had worked hard to keep Ronon in the loop of things and out of problems, but it had come close far too many times for the Wraith to remain ignorant. They had known there were snitches inside for months. It was just a matter of time before they figured it out. John could just hope the time had been enough.
 
He couldn't help but think a large part of all this was John's fault. He had taken big risks with the use of the information provided to him and now Ronon's life was on the line because of it. The least John could do was to take him out of this mess.
 
John saw the last flicker of light before the road ahead and eased down to it, parking the car and going out to fill it up. Ronon stayed in the car, watchful for every movement, even though there was none.
 
John filled it up, placed the handle of the gas hose into the pump, screwed the cap back into place and rounded the car to pay up.
 
He got back in the car with a couple of bottles of water and a few snacks. He tossed one to Ronon who proceeded to open the package right away and start munching. John threw the rest on the back seat and unwrapped a chocolate bar to eat as he drove off.
 
It didn't take too long for the road to become completely dark. It was now merely an endless patch of black pavement cutting through lowlands and sparse forests, clear of civilization and cars, except for the occasional ones that just passed by.
 
Three hours after that, the silence and dark became overwhelming and John started to fight against the toll of the previous night, which he had spent wide awake in bed, in addition to tonight’s fading adrenalin. His arms ached and his head hurt. John rubbed his face then glanced beside him to check on Ronon. The big guy was still in the same position he had been when they had left the city; still hard as a rock, tension beneath the seemingly calm appearance. He didn't look the slightest bit tired and was still watching the passenger window.
 
John didn't think Ronon would be in the mood for some conversation and decided to put in some music. Johnny Cash played from the speakers, a soft rhythm rocking through the car.
 
Somehow, John made it past the void of the road and arrived at a small village. He crossed it and aimed for the lower ground, descending a dirt road in a slow slope until sea level. The low trees and shrubbery soon made way to soft white sand with turfs of green growing here and there. He parked the car in the small sandy driveway in the back of a wooden loft.
 
"Okay, here we are. A nice vacation spot." John smiled and looked over at Ronon.
 
Ronon lowered his head to look at the cabin and nodded. "Looks fine."
 
"Don't worry. No one knows this place except my boss and a couple of others. It's totally safe."
 
Ronon turned to John. "You trust them?"
 
"Of course I do. I wouldn't be letting you use it if I didn't. Besides, I won't tell them you're here."
 
"What will you do?"
 
"I'm going to hurry things up. Tell them I've got another witness instead of Parish, but I won't say in which safe house I'm keeping you."
 
John knew Ronon would be a lot more comfortable alone than with an escort of FBI agents watching him. John knew where Ronon's loyalty was, and it wasn't with the Wraith, of that he was sure.
 
"They'll probably have found some bodies by now and they'll be running forensics. I doubt they'll find anything, but one can only hope."
 
Ronon glanced at the loft, then back at John.
 
"This place has got some canned food and some stuff planted at the back. There is a place nearby where you can fish and the rod and net are in the kitchen," John continued. "It doesn't have a phone line, but a fairly good cell reception." John handed Ronon his second phone, the one he used for emergencies. "Take this but only turn it on when you use it. I'll call everyday at 6 PM, so you'll have to remember that." John bit his lips thinking about anything he might have forgotten. "I'll come by again in a few days when the smoke starts to come down."
 
Ronon's look turned between the dark outside then back inside the vehicle. John saw the way his eyes changed even in the soft light that filtered from the car's front lights.
 
"Thanks."
 
"No problem." He nodded slightly. "I'll see that the Wraith do come down with your help." He turned his head to the side. "Then, I will be thanking you." He smiled.
 
"Okay."
 
Ronon dropped out of the car and slammed the door shut.
 
"Hey," John called.
 
Ronon turned and lowered himself to the window level.
 
"You forgot this." John let the keys of the loft hang in his fingers.
 
Ronon grabbed them with and soon disappeared inside the cabin.
 
John checked his watch. It was still the middle of the night and he would have the full drive back in darkness. He opened a chocolate bar and started his car with the bar half bitten in between his teeth.
 
The way back was another boring drive in darkness and silence and John found himself with the volume of the radio near the max to keep himself awake. He started to hum and didn't even see the time passing. Before he knew, daylight was breaking again and he was yawning as he parked the car in front of the local FBI headquarters building.
 
Movement was the same as usual. Local offices of all sorts of acronyms available were mostly empty with the occasional letter mix that got them a higher level of activity. The FBI office had a handful of agents ranging from newbies to veterans and they all seemed to be going about their business, most of them delved into their computer screens and a few others discussing cases. John stopped by the coffee machine then sat at his desk, rubbing his face as he did so.
 
"You look horrible."
 
John looked up, hoping he hadn't flinched at the sudden voice. "Yeah, drove all night."
 
Woolsey raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
 
John sipped his coffee. "Did you find Parrish?"
 
"Yes," Woolsey said as he sighed. "You knew that already?"
 
John nodded. "I got Ronon. They're looking for him. Got a high enough price on his head to have us both being chased by a bunch of bikers using some fairly good weaponry last night."
 
Woolsey raised an eyebrow. "Any injured?"
 
"One of the bikers is dead, another one injured. The others ran off when the cops arrived at the scene. We need to find the injured member."
 
"Okay, I'll coordinate with the police." He paused. "Where is Ronon?"
 
John shook his head. "I'd prefer to keep his location a secret. For now," he added.
 
"Very well. Do you feel he's as strong case as Parrish was?"
 
John nodded. "Yes. He's not a specialist in the drug, but he's seen and done more inside the organization. Got a lot of field experience and can be a very good source of information once he opens up." He took a sip from his cup.
 
"Okay, I guess this price on his head came with good timing."
 
John stopped himself from rubbing his sandy eyes. "How long till we don't have to worry about it?"
 
"Well, the Department of Justice will go ahead with it if you guarantee a witness. I was about to call them and tell we don't have one."
 
John sat back on his chair. "I guess I arrived right on time then."
 
Woolsey stared for a moment.
 
"What?" John shook his head.
 
"You really do look awful," he said before turning around and going inside his office.
 
John shook his head wondering if he looked half as bad as he felt. He sipped more of the coffee and started rummaging through his drawers to see if he could find an aspirin. He had just found the miraculous white pill when a touch on his shoulder nearly made him jump out of his body.
 
"Sorry. I didn't mean to..." McKay waved his hand around.
 
"You shouldn't sneak behind a guy that hasn't slept in two days."
 
"You're kidding, right? Please tell me you're kidding." McKay was grinning.
 
"That's not funny." John swallowed his pill with the rest of coffee.
 
"How can you stay two nights without sleep when our case is gone to hell with boringness?" McKay said as he rounded John's desk to sit on his own one.
 
"First, bad luck with a lousy neighbor and second, I didn't sleep the whole night because I was saving our case. And getting shot at in the process."
 
McKay shot an eyebrow up. "Really?"
 
"Yeah." John leaned forward in the desk. "Ronon is in a safe house. He's going to testify."
 
McKay grinned. "That's great! How did you do that?"
 
John shrugged. "Just offered him a safe house for him to stay and keep away from those bounty hunters after his head."
 
"Okay, back up here." McKay waved a hand. "What bounty hunters?"
 
John leaned back and stretched his legs. "The Wraith found out he was our informant. Probably through Parrish." He stretched his arms above his head. "Ronon killed a few of them last night before we met and asked for help."
 
"He asked for help?"
 
"Well, as close as he'll ever get. Gave me some bruises too." He rubbed his face. "That's when the bikers showed up shooting at us. We got away and I drove all night."
 
"You're okay, right?"
 
"I'm fine."
 
"Why do I always miss these things?" McKay turned his head.
 
John smiled. "You'd have complained if you had been shot at."
 
"That's true." McKay nodded. "So, where are we?" He flourished a hand. "We have no specialist," he started as he counted in his fingers, "no samples of the new drug or any formulas and schematics, but we got one inside gun-ho guy?"
 
"Yeah, but Ronon knows their hot spots and can testify for us on all the crimes they ordered and committed in his presence. You know what that means?" John leaned forward. "It means numerous murder accusations and instances of torture, abuse, coercion to the use of illegal substances… you name it."
 
McKay's look turned inwards for a moment. "Mmm, do you think they'll go for all that?"
 
"Well, there is no way they'll refuse all the accusations. If the boss goes solely for the Parrish murder, we're already facing a very good charge. We know she had a personal hand in that." John pointed with his coffee cup.
 
The Wraith operation was led by only one person that was known to everyone as The Queen. No one knew her name, but she had a special liking in toying, torturing and killing the biggest trouble makers in person. If they could get her behind bars, their entire organization would fall apart. Most of the men under her were dumb drones.
 
"Okay, what's the plan then?"
 
John tilted his head. "We have to get everything organized. We'll have to go through everything that we have and check for viability--"
 
"And switch our complete plan of action from Parrish to Ronon, go through all the stuff we left aside for lack of proof and redo all the work we did in the last few months." McKay sighed. "That's going to suck."
 
John smirked. "Yes, well, you knew the job when you signed up."

"Did I?"
 
+++++++++++++++
 
Ronon slouched on the couch and stared out of the window. The sun was now up and bright; the heat of late spring was beginning to permeate the salty air and accentuated his exhausted bones. He hadn't rested the previous night. Tiredness was seeping from his pores, but he couldn't force his eyes to close. They always snapped open from the tension all over him.
 
Deciding it would be no use to just sit around brooding over the situation, Ronon got up and headed outside to make use of all that energy. Now that the sun had risen, Ronon could explore the surrounding area.
 
The cabin was right in the middle of nowhere, vast plains of sand and low bushes extending on all sides. Trees accumulated here and there except where Ronon figured the ocean was supposed to be. He headed up the dirt road that didn't seem like it was used often. The only track marks digging into the thin earth were of the car Sheppard had driven.
 
He walked a couple hundred meters until he decided to head inland and into the woods at the road's edge. The forest had dense seashore vegetation, mostly low bushes interspaced with trees. Ronon tried not to disturb the natural cover as he went further inside.
 
Movement started to get progressively more difficult as he reached wetland. It went as deep as his ankle and very soon he saw himself at the margins of a large pond. Trees became sparse after the body of water, but still partly immersed. Ronon decided to turn around and head back, now aiming towards the beach.
 
By the time he reached it, his wet pants had stopped dripping and his sneakers were a mess of sloshy sand accumulated at the bottom.
 
The sound of waves slowly breaking onto shore and the sight of blue water and white sand made him take a deep breath. The beach was deserted and didn’t extend very far before it entered inside the vegetation, but it was big enough for Ronon to walk along it for a few minutes and explore the land, hiding spots and more dangerous locations.
 
It reminded him of his childhood, running around the sand all day with his brothers, digging to find hidden treasures, swimming and walking the forests pretending they were soldiers on a secret mission. Thinking about them made Ronon’s chest tighten in a mixture of solitude, anger and guilt. He focused on his good memories; the time when he had learned how to surf, the smell of his mother’s pie, his grandmother’s cake, his sister’s laughter and the adventures he and his brothers used to have.
 
It had been a simple, yet happy childhood, full of innocence and dreams. Never would he have imagined how it would end.
 
Young hearts were a hard thing to ignore. Ronon had listened to his and the decision had resulted in such a large bloodshed that Ronon still found himself soaked in it.
 
He was soaked in it. Grief and revenge had taken the best of him and before he had known, he was already so deep inside that world he had never thought he would be able to get out alive. He still didn't know.
 
The promise he had made was long ago lost in a series of crimes seen and committed to no result. Revenge hadn't been done. Only survival mattered. Ronon gritted his teeth and made a new promise. He would do the right thing this time.
 
He headed back, the midday sun burning his shoulders. This time, when he got back to the loft, he put his head down onto the pillow and swore he would end what had started seven years ago. He would finally honor his family.
 
+++++++++++++++
 
"Ronon!”
 
Ronon didn’t turn around and continued to throw clothes inside the bag. “Do you know how hard it was to get here?”
 
“I know, Ronon.” Melena held his arm. “But I can’t leave now after everything I saw!”
 
Ronon turned around. “They won’t kill you, I will protect you.”
 
“You can’t protect me from them. Kell will hunt us down for the rest of our lives!” Her voice was soft but had the prick edge of certainty.
 
“No, he won’t.” Ronon turned around and zipped the bag.
 
“What are you going to do?”
 
Ronon didn’t respond and walked out her bedroom carrying the bag. She grasped his arm and forced him to turn and face her.
 
“You can’t!” Her face was hard. “You’re not a Marine yet and even if you were, it would destroy your life!”
 
“I won’t let him destroy your life,” he growled. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We’re talking about criminals, Melena!”
 
“You’ll be killed!” Her voice was now sharp with anger. “Let the police handle them.”
 
“The police have been handling them for years! Until they do something, you’ll be walking out in a body bag! You know how his temperament goes! What do you think he’ll do now that he knows about us?”
 
“You don’t have to go. Let me face him and I’ll do what it takes to get myself out.”
 
Ronon turned around and continued to walk out of her apartment. “I won’t risk your life. You’ll come with me and hide until things are settled.”
 
+++++++++++++++
 
Ronon woke up with the roar of thunder. He looked out the window and saw the darkened clouds of rain filling the sky and no sign of the sun that should still be shining behind the gray mass. Looking at his watch, Ronon saw it was early evening and decided to get up to take a shower. He opened the drawer from the only piece of furniture the bedroom had other than the small bed. The dresser had only a few clothes, most too short or too tight for him. He picked the biggest sized tee-shirt which seemed that would fit just barely, but saw no underwear or pants that would fit his waist.
 
He rummaged through all the drawers, mostly having one change of clothes of each gender and seemed to be separated by sizes. The lowest drawer had the biggest sizes. Finally, he had one change of clothes that seemed close enough to him.
 
The shower was quick. He exited the bathroom refreshed and more relaxed. Looking at the watch he had left on the coffee table, he noticed it was almost time to turn on his phone.
 
Rain started peppering at that moment, becoming heavy and angry in a matter of seconds. Grabbing his cell phone, Ronon headed towards the kitchen. He took a tomato he had collected that morning from the bush outside and washed it. He took a large bite, making juice flow down his chin, then opened the small wooden cabinet to get a can of soup and another of meat.
 
The pot hadn’t yet started boiling when he heard the vibration of the phone over the table. He looked at the caller ID and saw a non-identified number.
 
He flipped it open. "Yes?"
 
"Hey, Ronon, it’s Sheppard. How’s it going?"
 
Ronon shrugged. "Okay."
 
"Look, I’ve got things settled. You’ll probably have to wait a few weeks until the whole thing is set up, but it is going down. In the meantime, do you need anything?"
 
"Yeah, clothes that fit me."
 
Sheppard chuckled on the other side. "I’ll see about that. Anything else?"
 
"Not really."
 
"I’ll be going there in a couple of days, so hang on until then. I’ll take you some clothes and food, and you’d better not go anywhere. Stay away from people in general."
 
"I know that," Ronon said a little bluntly.
 
"Right." There was a brief silence. "We’ll discuss everything better when we see each other in person."
 
"Okay."
 
Sheppard hung up and Ronon turned off the phone, going back to his now warm dinner.
 
+++++++++++++++
 
John’s head shot up, bleary eyes blinking away the curtain of sleep. He looked behind him and saw the blur of the person responsible for waking him up. John narrowed his eyes until the image settled then snatched the piece of paper glued to his forehead.
 
"What, McKay?" he asked a bit annoyed.
 
McKay shook his head. "I don’t know why you just don’t go home to rest."
 
"Can’t." John rubbed his face. "Too much going on."
 
"Oh, yeah." McKay crossed his arms. "So much going on you decided to take a nap on your keyboard."
 
"Is there a reason you woke me?"
 
"As a matter of fact, yes, there is." McKay waved a thumb over his shoulder. "Woolsey got the word back from the police. They’ve got your biker in the hospital."
 
"Oh, great." John rose from his seat and grabbed his suit jacket on the back of his chair. "Let’s go, then."
 
Tampa wasn’t a small city. Some percentage of it was water, but there was enough land to make it the county seat for Hillsborough County and the 53rd largest city in the US, as John noted from living there for nearly four years. This meant it had many hospitals. John figured it was close to twenty, which was the reason they had needed help from the police to locate the criminal they must have arrested the previous night. No need to run around asking questions when all they needed was a phone call to the right department.
 
John parked the car on Tampa General Hospital and went up a flight of stairs to the secured room that had been indicated by the receptionist. It was being guarded by two uniformed cops who let John and McKay in as soon as they showed their badges.
 
According to the police report, the biker was called Steven Fernandez, the family was from Mexico, but he was born in the US; young, early twenties, had a number of charges mostly involving drugs and weapons but had never been arrested.
 
John entered the room and found Fernandez propped up by fluffy pillows, half of his face red and purple, several scratches covered by dried blood and his leg suspended in a cast.
 
"Hi, Steve, I’m Special Agent John Sheppard," John said as he flashed his credential then waved at McKay on his side. "This is my partner, Special Agent McKay."
 
Fernandez face hardened. "I already told my story to the police."
 
John smirked. "We’re not with the police, we are FBI." He put his badge on his inner suit pocket.
 
Fernandez eyed John for a while before his eyes narrowed. "And what do you want with me?"
 
"I think you know that already."
 
The man’s jaw tensed. "I won’t speak to you." He turned to face the wall.
 
"Okay, then just listen. You already have enough accusations as it is, and they’ll multiply as soon as you’re out of the hospital."
 
He looked back at John. "Is that a threat?"
 
"I don’t make threats," John said with a hardened voice. "You shot at a federal agent and endangered the lives of civilians. Now, you can help yourself by telling me about the bounty, or you can face the charge and take the full blunt for your pals."
 
McKay crossed his arms. "Do you think they’ll bother to help you out? They left you there to your own screwed up fate."
 
Fernandez’s face broke for a millisecond before he tried to put the tough façade back on. Too late;John had seen inside him and now only had to continue to put on pressure.
 
"Okay," John continued. "Here’s what we know. You’re just a tiny man at the far end of the criminal world. You’ve been selling dope on dark corners ever since you've dropped school at fifteen. You're nothing to them and you're nothing to us. You only have things to lose. Either way you're biting, so why don't you help yourself and take a few of those years from that sentence?"
 
Fernandez didn't answer and just looked away at the wall.
 
"How do you go from giving out small packs to shooting at federal agents?" McKay put his hands on his pockets. "My guess, you wanted quick and easy money and had no idea what you were getting yourself into." He paused. "How close am I?"
 
Fernandez turned around. "All right. I just heard chinning in the streets. Someone that needed to be bumped off for large dough."
 
"And the fat reward was very little warning on how big it was?" McKay asked condescendingly.
 
"Like you said, last man of the pack. It was my big chance."
 
"Who did you hear it from?" John asked.
 
Fernandez sighed. "I don't know'em. We don't do business. They deal only with good stuff."
 
"So, they're way over your league, what else?" John prompted.
 
"They were just spreading the word. I think the guy was spilling or something." He shrugged.
 
John nodded. "And?"
 
"And what? I already told you!" He raised his hand in frustration.
 
"How did you know where he would be?"
 
"The guy musta gotten the bum's rush, but the high pillows didn't tell. They gave us the rap."
 
John smiled. "See? That wasn't so hard." He turned around and left the room.
 
"Okay," McKay started in a soft voice as they walked down the hall. "So they figure Ronon is ratting and decide to cut him. Instead of getting their own hands dirty, they spread the word around the streets for some small gang to take him out? Why?"
 
John turned and started climbing down the stairs. "They must have set a high price. In the few minutes Ronon was there, six or seven different guys from two different gangs showed up. The Wraith obviously didn't want him walking around freely."
 
McKay nodded. "Hmm, no matter where he goes, if there's civilization, he'll be bummed."
 
"Exactly. The Wraith can reach far enough to make his life difficult."
 
"He's well hidden, right?" McKay asked as they left the hospital into the parking lot.
 
"Yeah, he is." John took out his keys and opened the door. "And it reminds me that it's almost time to call him." John slammed the door and picked up his phone.
 
The rest of the day went by in a haze of reading, analyzing, discussing, more reading, and the usual amount of snarking. John was sure there must have been a few minutes of dozing off in between some of those activities, but they didn't last long enough. Before he knew, it was already very late, his stomach was growling and his eyes were refusing to stay open.
 
"Okay, I've had it. I'm going home." McKay rubbed his face. "And you should too."
 
John slouched back. "Yeah." He yawned. "Boy, is this going to take a while."
 
"You know, this would go a lot quicker if Ronon simply told us where she hides. We could trot in, get her with her hands dirty and lock her up."
 
"If only…" John got up, not wanting to have the same discussion again.
 
McKay stood as well. "How do you know he's telling the truth about not knowing where she is?"
 
"We talked about this. I trust him;he said she could be in a dozen different locations;I believe him."
 
They started making their way out of the office. "Yeah, but why doesn't he check?"
 
"First, he can't now with a price on his head. Second, he tried. Third, he was about to tell me the secret code when we got shot at." Damn. John was really getting slow. He should have asked him.
 
"Aha, so he knows!" McKay waved a pointed finger.
 
John sighed. "Maybe, he didn't tell, we got distracted. I'll ask him tomorrow when I call him."
 
McKay exhaled.
 
"What?"
 
"Nothing."
 
"Look, McKay, I really do trust him. He's a good guy." They entered the elevator.
 
"If he's such a good guy then what is he doing inside a criminal organization?"
 
"Everyone makes mistakes. Maybe he didn't have a choice."
 
When the elevator reached the parking, McKay stopped by the door and faced John. "You really do trust him?"
 
"Yeah. Look at how far we are. We're practically ready to arrest them all. We wouldn't have gotten this far without him."
 
McKay nodded and waved as he went towards where his car was parked. "Okay, see you tomorrow."
 
"See you."
 
John practically didn't see his way back home. He just picked up a cheeseburger to eat in traffic then crashed on his bed. He didn't even bother with removing his clothes or the loud neighbor's newborn baby screaming its lungs out.
 
He woke up not long afterwards with a hand over his mouth and his heart hammering in desperation and confusion. He tried to move and discovered he was being pressed face down against his own bed.
 
"Don't move."
 
The voice was as rough as the hands holding him in place. The weight on his bed shifted and John's face was buried in his pillow. Deprived of air, John's arms tried to flail without success. John gasped a lungful of nothing, jerking his body desperately but only succeeding in making the assailants hold him tighter. Sleep lured him again, but John fought as long as he could, yanking, tugging and pulling until his body began to relax and his eyes closed despite his efforts.
 
When he opened them again he was sitting on a chair, his hands cuffed behind him. He lolled his head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of his surroundings. In the darkness, he recognized his bedroom carpet and the legs of his kitchen chair. A pair of brown leather boots appeared in his line of sight and John raised his head slowly to look at to whom they belonged.
 
He saw a light brown colored man faintly illuminated by the slit of street light that filtered through the curtains and another one farther in the back leaning against the wall. They wore dark vests and jeans and John recognized the tattoo in the middle of their chests.
 
John chuckled. "Wow, isn't that stupid."
 
"What is stupid? Being caught on your bed?" The man took a blade out of his pocket and touched John's chin with the tip.
 
John raised his head to avoid it. "No. Capturing a federal agent is."
 
"We're not afraid of your kind." He smiled and began circling the chair. "All I need to know is where you dumped our dead meat."
 
"I don't know what you're talking about."
 
John's neck popped when his head was jerked back by a violent hair pull. "I'm talking about Ronon, but you already know that." John felt hot breath on his neck. "The guy you ran away with last night."
 
John tightened his lips. They had somehow targeted him when he was with Ronon. How they were able to put a name and an address to his face was still unknown, but not unexpected. The Wraith were very resourceful.
 
"What makes you think I'm gonna tell where he is?"
 
The hot breath now came on the other side. "I don't need you to," he said before a hard knock on the back of John's head made sparks explode behind his eyes.
 
John was unconscious before his head hit his chest.
 
+++++++++++++++
 
Continues on Part II