NOTES: Was written before watching 'Sateda' but it doesn't really change things.
Odysseus
It's not home and never can be.
Ronon sees it in their eyes, hears it in their voices, knows it in his belly. They're okay for the moment, and it's enough. But it's not the same as being on Sateda.
He hunkers down among the survivors of his people, among men and women who speak in familiar patterns and rhythms, among people who don't look askance at him, or wonder what he's like in bed. He eats a meal of traditional flavours and drinks the brewed drinks with military men and women. Their ranks roll off his tongue with fluid ease, and he is Specialist Ronon Dex, once more.
But when the moon rises, a thin crescent of light, Teyla comes looking for him.
"Colonel Sheppard asks if you wish to stay with your people overnight."
He glances back at the village, at the light-brightened windows and the smell of the paghal leaves that lie in every Satedan drawer. He hears the kaneida's jerky rumble - a distant background noise - and the rise and fall of Satedan speech patterns in the cool, quiet night.
"No." He forces the word past his lips.
It's not home and never will be again.
- fin -