Author's Note: This is a tag to The Seed. I thought the ending was a little too happy-happy for what went on, and wondered just what would be going through Jen's head in the aftermath. This is my take on how she felt, and how Ronon managed to set things right, even without being able to speak. Who says you need a voice to accept an apology? Or, er.. not accept one? :P - Nika
It had been thirty-two hours since Jen was released from the infirmary and Colonel Sheppard hadn't. Thirty-two hours since she'd slept. Since she'd eaten. Since she'd done anything but hide from everyone.
From her peers.
From her friends.
She didn't want to see them. Didn't want to hear them. Didn't want to smile and pretend she was fine. Didn't want to feel the need to apologize – again, and again, and again – for almost killing them.
For almost killing Ronon.
And Radek.
And John.
Her friends, her family.
They told her it wasn't her fault. Kept telling her it wasn't her fault. That she wasn't in control. They told her it didn't matter that she could feel what she – it – was doing while it ate away at her mind. But it did matter. Because she'd felt it. She'd felt it all. Attacking Radek… the annoyance of the bullets… the fury as Teyla pulled him from her clutches… Strangling Ronon's life away… betrayal, anger, disappointment that he'd come to destroy… the feel of his heart beat slowing, his agonized breaths. Stabbing John… piercing his body… trying to end his life. End all their lives.
She'd felt it all… and hadn't been able to stop it.
She hadn't been strong enough.
She'd lost everything inside the monster.
Faith.
Love.
Hope.
They'd left her. No light. No voice. No human contact. Abandoned her under orders. She'd tried to be strong. Struggled to keep sane in the utter silence. Fought to hold on to something – anything – to prove to herself it was going to be fine. She'd be fine.
But the darkness, the voice, the entity eventually claimed her for what she was. An empty shell. The terror of knowing she was dying, abandoned alone in the darkness, stole all her thoughts… and she'd given up.
But they hadn't.
And she'd nearly killed them for it.
She angrily brushed a renegade tear off her cheek and wiped it off onto her pant leg. Hugging her knees closer, she folded herself into as small an object as possible. The cool night air whispered around her face, tugging at her hair, pulling strands up then dropping them down onto her hunched shoulders. With her chin on her knees she stared across the water, the edge of the north pier dropping away beneath her feet. The rippling reflection of the lights of the city surged as the waves rose and dropped far below. Bending the tips of her sneakers over the edge of the pier, she wiggled her toes against the cold seeping through the light canvas.
Her breath blew out sharp and misty into the air, dissolving on the breeze and disappearing. She relished the cold. The bite of the air through her thin clothing. It reaffirmed her life. Her existence. Her survival.
She was alive.
If only she knew what that meant.
She had her life. But what would her life be like now amongst people she'd tried to kill? She'd known something was wrong and hadn't done anything. Hadn't told anyone. Would they ever be able to truly trust her judgment again? Would she? Would he?
She could apologize forever and it wouldn't be enough.
Because she'd almost killed him.
The one person she never wanted to ever hurt.
And she'd almost killed him.
A fresh stream of tears threatened to follow their predecessors onto her cheeks and she swiped angrily at them with a huff of displeasure and disgust.
Enough, her medical brain scolded. Go inside. You're tired. You're hurting. You need rest, and food. You're emotional and overreacting and everything will look better in the morning.
But the voice was quickly quashed by the wounded woman who was aching to be heard. She didn't want rest. Didn't want food. All she wanted was to sit here in the dark and cry. To cry for what she'd done. For what she'd tried to do. To let it all out until she had nothing left but emptiness. Because what was still in there hurt like hell.
She'd believed he'd left her to die.
Then he nearly died trying to save her.
As soon as she'd come back to her own mind, the cutting weakness of her actions ripped her apart, leaving her hollow and raw with embarrassment and worry. How could she possibly face him? To look into his eyes and see her own weakness reflected back at her?
She was stupid to think he'd feel anything but pity.
An uncommon sound reached her ears and she turned, her blurry eyes landing on the imposing figure of her thoughts, as he walked purposely towards her across the stark surface of the pier.
Furiously wiping away the evidence of her tears, she sucked in a deep breath and wished herself into oblivion.
But reality imposed.
Ronon slowed, then stopped a few feet from her, his stance wide. The shadows ran long across the pier, the lights of the city painting his outline as he watched her.
She turned away, unable to fight the additional skip of her heart to see him, the twisting ache in her soul at what he must be thinking. She couldn't face him, so she opted to bury her head in her knees.
Warmth reached her right side and she knew without looking he'd was seated beside her. Fingertips landed tentatively against her shoulder and her breath caught. She fought the urge to lean into the heat he offered as his hand gently rubbed across her back.
She shivered violently, her spine bending as the warmth of his hand brought out the chill covering the rest of her body. His arm dropped quickly around her shoulders and he slid up against her, pulling her tightly against side of his body. The protective gesture tore through her soul with a vengeance and she fought to keep control. He slipped his arm around her waist and slid himself back, pulling her with him until they were several feet from the edge of the pier. She sank against him, a ragged sob ripped itself from her chest as the laughter hitched sadly through her upper body. She'd tried to kill him, and he was still willing to protect her.
His fingers traced the side of her forehead, tucking strands of hair in behind her ear. She turned her head towards him, her body pulling to his heat, his warmth, but she was unable to meet his eyes. Instead, her gaze fell on the open collar of his shirt, and even in the darkness of the dim lights of the pier's end, she could see the bruised bands wrapped across his throat.
Her head snapped up and her fingers reached up of their own accord. Realizing what she was doing, she snatched her hand back, tightening it into a fist which she pressed quickly against her lips.
"I'm sorry." She whispered against her knuckles, the sting of the tears returning, blurring the bruises. "Oh, Ronon, I'm so sorry."
His palm landed warm and strong against her cheek. When she tried to pull away he captured her face between both hands and slowly forced her to look at him.
She blinked furiously, unable to stop some of the tears from escaping. His thumbs lightly caressed her cheeks, wiping away the moisture as he cradled her face between his palms.
"What?" She blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lower lip. "Sorry. I'm sorry. Your throat…" She opened her eyes, shaking her head, the turning of her head rubbing her cheek against his hands, which still cupped her face.
She tried to smile, but knew she was failing. "I sorry. I don't know what else I could possibly say. I'm just so sor-"
His lips covered hers, swiftly cutting off her attempt to apologize. He kissed her tenderly, gently stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. The warmth and softness twisted her heart and she closed her eyes. He pulled back slowly, and she blinked up at him, unable to understand his reaction. How could he even be here? How could he possibly want anything to do with her after what happened?
"Ronon I-"
He cut her off again, returning his mouth to hers, his hands sliding down to her shoulders, pulling her closer. He guided her mouth open with his tongue, exploring slowly before moving away. He leaned back, but didn't release her.
Jen blinked in stunned surprise. "I don't understand." She whispered with a slow shake of her head. "How can you… after what I did? I almost k-"
His fingers tightened around her upper arms as he yanked her against him, his kiss rougher, deeper, taking her breath and her words away.
"Ronon, please." She exhaled when he pulled back. "I'm trying to apolo-"
With this kiss his arms moved lower, pulling her closer. He crossed his legs and seated her tightly in his lap.
"I'm trying to say I'm sor-"
His fingers buried themselves in her hair as his tongue sought hers, twisting and tangling. His free hand tightened around her waist. Her hands automatically grabbed for his shirt, and she fisted the material, desperately seeking his warmth, his life force, his passion, his forgiveness.
He pulled back only after oxygen became a necessity.
"You're not going to let me say it, are you?" She exhaled quickly.
He shook his head. Once.
"But I gave up…" She whispered.
He exhaled sharply and pulled her against him, tucking her head under his chin as he held her tightly, rocking slowly as he shook his head back and forth. Jen wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face against his neck.
"I should have known you'd come…" She whispered. Her heart tightening with the realization that he'd come for her again. Here. Now. Tonight.
He leaned back, angling his head to look down at her. When she glanced up, he nodded at her, answering her question with one eyebrow raised, daring her to argue. Yes, she should have known better.
"I know." She exhaled. "I'm sor-"
He kissed her again.
She felt a tickle of laughter escaping her throat as he released her mouth. "I'm beginning to detect a pattern." She said softly.
He smiled, and Jen felt the loss and sadness escaping with the breeze that blew around them. She didn't deserve him… Hoped some day she could give back what she'd taken. But until then… she would graciously accept what she'd been given.
A man who's belief and conviction was strong enough to include her, too.
She felt herself smiling. "Are you going to kiss me every time I try to apologize for all this?"
He nodded.
"If I said… I'm sorry?"
He kissed her, and this time she returned with her own answer, pressing against him. He smiled against her mouth and leaned back.
"And if I were to say… I'm really sorry?"
He claimed her mouth quickly, opening to her as she felt herself answering his tongue's exploration with her own. She slid her hands to his shoulders then down his bare arms, feeling the strength and power beneath her palms. His touch grew more commanding, more daring, echoing with heat and promise, as he ran his fingers slowly up her spine until both his hands were fisted tightly in her hair.
He pulled away, his breathing a little more pronounced, and hers completely staggered.
"Okay." She exhaled the word slowly, feeling the laugher rumbling in his chest beneath her splayed palms, trusting his arms to keep her upright.
The lights of the city flickered through the darkness around them as she slowly released her next thought. "What if I were to say I was really, really, really sorry, and I'll never, ever, doubt you again?"
With a squeal she suddenly found herself lying flat on her back, Ronon poised above her, his body covering hers. She could feel his hardness against her thigh as he shifted his lower body suggestively against hers.
"Oh." She whispered, right before his mouth cut off the rest of her thought.
He then proceeded to show her just what he thought of her previous statement.
It wasn't until after she'd screamed his name to the heavens, his naked body covering hers, as he rode her release with his own, that Jen came to a decision.
She was definitely going to need to keep apologizing for trying to kill him.