Gone.

They were gone.

Ronon twisted his muscular body in the mirror, holding back his mane of dreadlocks with one hand. His tawny shoulders strained, bending at awkward angles to be inspected. No matter which way he turned, he could find no trace of the blemishes that once marred his back.

A familiar tone jolted him alert. A muffled voice called, "Ronon?" Grunting to himself, he jogged the few feet to his door, waved his hand in front of the panel, and returned to his place leaning on the counter under the mirror.

Teyla entered only a few steps, surveying his bare quarters, and announced, "You did not come for sparring."

Head down, he mumbled, "Sorry."

"Thirty minutes ago." His lack of response drew her closer. "Ronon, I was beginning to worry. No one knew where you were; they said you had not spoken to them all day –"

"They're gone," he interrupted, drawing himself upright.

"What?"

He turned around, holding his hair up, hearing her small gasp when faced with the perfectly smooth skin of his back.

It took her a moment to register. "Your scars," she whispered.

"And this one," he spun around and held his bone necklace away from the hollow of his chest.

Teyla frowned, her eyes fixated on his chest. Two trembling but sure fingers reached out and brushed the place where the wraith feeding scar should be. Her hand leapt back to her side as if it had been burned. "I do not understand. How did they just… disappear?"

"McKay healed them. Apparently his... Ancient powers included healing." His necklace dropped back into place as he turned away from her, leaning on his hands against the counter.

Her eyes traveled to his face in the mirror, downcast. "You do not sound comfortable with this."

"I don't know." Ronon shook his head slightly. "I should be glad they're gone, but… I guess I just feel like something's missing."

"Perhaps," she said after some thought, "this is a turning point. A chance to –"

"I won't forget," he snapped. "I can never forget the past."

"Not to forget, Ronon. Just to move to a new step in your journey. So much is before you." He settled comfortably on top of the counter, listening cautiously. "You are no longer a Runner. You fight the wraith – of your own accord, and to protect your people." Before he could interject, she said, "You have not been an outsider for some time, Ronon. The people of Atlantis – the people of Earth – they love you. Yes, you are tied to the place of your birth, as are we all, but you are also a part of Atlantis. They would die for you, Ronon, as you would do so in return." She paused, pursing her lips in a tight smile. "Your scars are gone, but that does not change you."

He narrowed his eyes in thought. "So you're saying this is a sign of some kind?"

"It is a merely a chance event in the sequence of our lives," she shrugged. "It can mean whatever you wish."

Ronon nodded slowly, lifting his head to meet her eyes in the mirror.

"Come," she placed her hand on his arm. "Let us get in some practice."

A slight smile formed under his beard as she walked to the door. Throwing his shirt on, he followed her out into the hall, a new vigor energizing him.

Never forget…