Author: esteefee
Pairing: Sheppard/Dex
Rating: G
Words: 2,333
Categories: pre-slash, H/C
Summary: Remix of Caught Inside from Ronon's POV.
Prequel to Closing Doors, part of the Doors Series.


Outside the Box

by esteefee



There was a time in Ronon's life when he used to have plans, most of them revolving around Malena and their future life together, back before the necessities of survival dictated he become a creature of reactions, able to turn on a knife-point to run or fight.

It had been a long time since he'd made any plans at all. More than ten years, Satedan, and who knew how many Lantean. He didn't care about time anymore anyway—moments never lived beyond the bright flare of pain or fear or need.

Or so he thought. But lately hope had somehow gotten thrown into the pot, mixing him up, making him want things.

It started with Jennifer. Another doctor—had to be that, he thought, and the strength hiding under her fragile uncertainty, just like Lena's. He started to have some murky ideas of courting her, but then Sheppard's pet wraith betrayed them on the Daedalus, and when Ronon was forced to act, something happened to Jennifer's face when she looked at him. Something rigid and disapproving.

He'd let her similarities blind him to how different she really was.

But the idea, once it took root in his head, didn't let go. He didn't have to be alone anymore. Maybe ten years was mourning enough. And when he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the same back he'd been guarding for four years.

Sheppard's back.

:::

Sheppard wasn't like his previous commander, Kell. For one thing, Sheppard didn't demand a ritual blood sacrifice and blind obedience to his every whim.

Actually, Sheppard seemed to want to command without ordering, as if every mission plan were something that would have come to each of them naturally. And oddly enough, it worked, even though it took Ronon a while to get used to the style.

The one thing he didn't approve of was Sheppard always wanted to take on, by default, every difficult task, regardless of whether he was the right one for the job. If it was dirty, he wanted it. If it was dangerous, even more so, even though both Teyla and Ronon were better fighters, and McKay smarter than all of them.

It made it hard to watch Sheppard's back. Especially on one occasion when the proof-of-friendship ritual on P2X-501 required that someone's back be striped with a lash. Every fiber of muscle in Ronon's body twitched with a need to stop the ceremony; it was only Sheppard's dark gaze on him, demanding he hold steady, that stopped him from acting.

There was a line, though, a hard line Ronon kept his eye on, and whenever Sheppard tried to cross it—say, by telling Ronon to leave him behind trapped under a collapsed building, or to let him take on a mutant wraith all by himself—Ronon broke with orders and just did what he thought was best.

Even if sometimes it wasn't even about physical danger.

:::

Ronon knew Sheppard was pissed about McKay—that ever since Rodney nearly died from the second childhood he wasn't spending much time with the team anymore. Something had put him off, made him back away from them, Sheppard in particular.

Ronon couldn't figure it out, but he missed it, too—no more nights watching Earth movies in the rec lounge; fewer meals where all four of them sat together at their usual table, "shooting the shit," as Sheppard called it, an expression which always made Teyla wince with distaste.

One theory Ronon had was McKay couldn't stand that they'd all seen him as a child for a while, stupid and needing help even to eat or dress himself. But then Ronon saw the expression on Sheppard's face when Rodney finally made his move on Keller.

And suddenly, a whole new path painted itself in front of Ronon's eyes. A path, and a possible future. He saw what he hadn't seen because he couldn't, because he'd put Sheppard in a box long ago without even thinking about it—a clear box, with Sheppard and McKay on the inside and Ronon on the outside. But maybe that wasn't true anymore.

McKay had said something once about thinking "outside the box," and Ronon thought he might finally understand.

:::

Sheppard took him surfing.

At first, it looked like the whole thing was a waste of time. Even Ronon could see the waves were different from the ones in The Endless Summer, a movie Sheppard had demanded he see—It's research, big guy—before they even left Atlantis. These waves were all choppy and white, not even and clear like glass.

But Ronon didn't want Sheppard to give up on the trip so easily. For one thing, they'd just both go back to Atlantis where Sheppard would probably mope for weeks about not having McKay around to play with.

"We should go camping," Ronon said. "That looks like a good climb." He pointed up to the mountain that started above the high cliff. The possibility of climbing it made his heart speed up happily, especially when Sheppard eyed the mountain and lit up with a grin.

"Good idea. Let's repack for overnighting."

Ronon had always figured the more complex a plan was, the more likely something would go wrong, so his was pretty simple. Maybe Sheppard was still thinking he was stuck in the box with McKay, but you couldn't put a whole world in a box. Some things didn't fit. And Ronon and Sheppard had stuff between them that McKay would never get. Like the moment he and Sheppard were under a building with Michael's hybrids coming after them, and knew they were about to die.

Maybe it was weird to hold a memory like that as something good—something special—but Ronon did, and there were a lot of moments like that between the two of them. Honor, and courage, and just two words to convey what it meant to die with a comrade you respected.

Another thing they shared was a love for physical challenges, like the mountain they were climbing together right now. Ronon felt the clean burn in his thigh muscles as they dug their steps ever upward, the hot sun on his back and the sweat cooling his neck and arms. He watched the flexing of Sheppard's butt and thighs as he went before him finding the best path.

Sheppard had a great ass. Ronon let himself look, for once not worried about getting caught. Getting caught was the whole point of his plan now.

:::

Something was wrong. Ronon was breathing too hard for the exertion, and about an hour ago he'd started getting dizzy. Not part of the plan, to be too weak to follow where Sheppard led.

Sheppard called a halt just as it started to get really bad, and Ronon found himself crouching down, his chest still heaving.

"Don't know what's wrong with me," he said, ashamed of his body's sudden weakness.

Sheppard shrugged. "Maybe you're just getting a little mountain sickness. It happens if you're not used to higher altitudes."

"Oh." Ronon let himself plop down to the ground. He leaned against Sheppard, seeking the reassuring contact. Whatever this was, it sounded like Sheppard had encountered it before and wasn't too worried.

They camped there that night. Sheppard took care of everything, getting the fire started and putting up the tent. Ronon focused on not throwing up. It felt weird but good to have Sheppard taking care of him. This hadn't been part of the plan, but maybe it was a good thing, because Sheppard's attention was on him all the way.

Ronon liked it. Even if it was a little embarrassing. He decided to put the next part of his plan into action.

"What're you thinking about?" he asked, putting down his empty cup. The soup had been just the thing to settle his stomach.

Shrugging, John said, "Nothing much."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Ronon asked carefully, "This about McKay?"

Sheppard tried to shrug it off.

"You know, smart guy? Talks a lot?" Ronon waved his hands like Rodney in a fit.

That made Sheppard crack a tiny smile, but then he just froze up again, looking like he didn't want to talk about it.

That was okay. Ronon hadn't figured it would be easy. For one thing, he knew Sheppard hated to have people know things about him. Everything Sheppard did—from the lazy way he slouched through missions to the way he didn't let people get near him—was all about protecting something.

Another thing they had in common. So, Ronon knew he had to be careful, but he also knew Sheppard trusted him, at least enough for this.

"It just seems like things are different lately. Maybe I'm wrong. But when he had the Second Childhood it seemed like you two were close. And then something happened and you weren't friends as much. Like you're mad at him."

"He's been busy," John said, his face closed up tight.

"With Keller, you mean." Ronon hadn't realized how angry he was at her until he said her name aloud. Then it all came back to him: their first, tiny steps forward toward something, and the way she'd cut him off so suddenly after the mutiny. Picking McKay over him.

Ronon would never understand women.

From Sheppard's rueful expression, Ronon figured Sheppard found McKay just as hard to understand. Or maybe he did understand, but didn't want to.

"McKay needs people to like him."

"I like him," was Sheppard's defensive response.

"So do I. That doesn't mean I think he's a good choice." Not for you, Ronon didn't say. But he thought maybe Sheppard heard him, anyway, because he looked suddenly thoughtful.

Ronon felt he'd pushed far enough for now. He let the silence fall between them, filling the rough spaces with the cool dark and the crackle of flames.

After a while Sheppard started talking—about things he never seemed to want to talk about. Family, and his childhood. Ronon felt warm with more than the heat of the fire and the soup in his belly. He told Sheppard about his mother. He still missed her, so damned much. No one had taken care of him since.

Not until he found his team. Not until Sheppard.

Ronon's stomach was feeling better now, but he still didn't want to fall asleep; instead, he watched Sheppard relax into dreams. Another familiar thing—guarding over Sheppard, who looked peaceful for once; more peaceful than when they'd started out on this trip, and it made Ronon's chest ache with a sudden surge of hope.

Maybe this would work after all.

:::

The next day rose bright, with Ronon feeling nothing of the sickness of the previous day. And there was something new now, an awareness of Sheppard watching him climb, letting him go first at times, the silence between them still filled with warm shapes and hidden meanings.

Near the top, Sheppard slipped, and Ronon's heart slipped a beat as well. He barely caught Sheppard in time. The sudden shift in weight had Sheppard swinging hard against the rocks, and when he finally straightened with breathless thanks, Ronon saw he was bleeding.

Ronon shook his head. As if life needed to remind him once again that nothing went according to plan.

When they reached the top, Ronon insisted on cleaning and binding Sheppard's wound immediately. He crouched close, smelling Sheppard's scent rising from his body; it made Ronon a little dizzy with desire, and he forced himself to focus on his task, gripping Sheppard's arm to keep him still.

He wanted to slip his hand up and to the back of Sheppard's neck, to run his fingers up into the short, dark hair there, and pull him into a kiss. But it was too soon. Not in the plan for today, not for a while, Ronon recognized, because if the door to the box was cracked open, Sheppard still wouldn't have noticed he could escape.

Or maybe he had—noticed, at least—because Sheppard's eyes were wide, staring into his for a moment before he looked away. As if he felt the heat between them, and the possibilities.

Ronon patted his arm, breaking the moment.

"Thanks," Sheppard said, and smiled.

A new smile.

:::

They camped that night, and then the next day traveled back down, the going much easier if a little more dangerous. When they returned to the jumper, Sheppard insisted they go back to the beach.

"The waves are perfect, perfect," Sheppard said, grinning as he landed them twenty yards from the shore. "Come on, buddy—I'm going to teach you how to surf."

And he did. Sheppard was patient, giving him the basics, helping him duck under the surf with his board and directing him to wait just beyond where the waves broke.

The first time Ronon stood for just a few moments, the wave lifting beneath him, pushing him up, he felt like he was flying. It was amazing, like nothing he'd ever experienced. Even just treading water, waiting for the next one, he felt a deep contentment, as if the ocean were a place he were returning to; a home after long exile.

Sheppard was grinning with pure delight when Ronon returned to shore with the board under one warm. Then he took it and went out himself to ride.

Seeing him flying over the glassy blue water, bending and turning back into the wave to ride it longer, was like watching the poetry of birds.

Ronon had always known Sheppard was pretty, but this—

This was grace.

When Sheppard trotted from the water, face bright with a wide smile, Ronon had to fist his hands to keep them from grabbing and pulling him close.

Not yet.

:::

They spent more time together than they ever had, when they returned to Atlantis. Normally, Ronon would have felt like Sheppard was using him as a placeholder until McKay's return.

But not anymore.

For the first time, it felt like they were waiting together.



End.

The next story in this series is Closing Doors.

A/N: The Endless Summer is about the search for the perfect wave. It's really the surfing movie, and I highly encourage you to rent it.