TITLE: Finding the Corners
AUTHOR: Mnemosyne

Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned anything related to SGA, Ronon and Teyla would have been shagging like rabbits for three seasons now.
SUMMARY: Puzzles need a calm place to settle before they can be solved.
RATING: R
CHARACTER(S)/PAIRING(S): Ronon/Teyla
SPOILERS: Takes place in an amorphous AU timeline that includes Seasons 2 & 3, but largely disregards Season 4 (mainly because I haven't seen much of it). Basically, if you know the show, you're fine.
WARNINGS: None!
NOTES:
So, here we go. My first Stargate: Atlantis fic. It's been a very long time since I've written fic in general, and I've never tackled this particular fandom, so needless to say I'm a bit nervous. Here's hoping the fic-writing skills haven't completely atrophied!

cracks knuckles

Now, let's get down to business.

The first time Ronon Dex came to her apartments in the dead of night, Teyla knew what he wanted without needing to ask. It was written in the tension of his broad shoulders as he leaned in her doorway, hands braced on either jamb, face largely obscured by his heavy dreadlocks. The light from the corridor clouded his features; she could have cut herself on his silhouette.

"Teyla."

The word was ragged, dragged up from the lungs by an exhausted tongue and forced through tired lips. Seven years was a long time to run without the benefit of rest. Though he'd settled into his new home on Atlantis, the Runner Ronon had been was never far away: the way he moved, the way he fought; the economy of motion followed by the fury of berserker rage. He was a specimen of survival.

But now there were cracks in his sullen surface; fine hairline fractures that bypassed the Runner to reveal slivers of the man Ronon had been on Sateda. The inertia that had driven him for seven long years had come to an end, and his iron-clad armor was beginning to rust and falter. It was easy at times to believe he was indestructible, but in the end he was just a man; a puzzle of a man. And puzzles need a calm place to settle before they can be solved.

She touched his arm, felt him burning beneath her fingers, and led him into her room.

&&&

That night he took her three times: once hard, once soft, and once half-asleep. Teyla stetched out beside him after the third round and watched him sleep. It was laughable how his feet dangled over the end of the bed, but that didn't seem to bother him. He'd fallen asleep on his stomach, one arm dangling over the side of the mattress, the other flush against his side. His muscles were completely lax and his mouth lolled open against her pillow. She'd never known him to be so completely at ease.

&&&

"I was married."

Warm steam wafted across her cheeks as Teyla sipped her tea. She sat cross-legged on the bed beside Ronon, who sat with his back against her headboard while his tea steamed, forgotten, on her nightstand. "You married young," she murmured, settling her cup in its saucer and cradling both in her lap. It was the third night he had come to her; the first that he'd chosen to speak.

"Satedan military tended to die young," he rumbled, staring at a tapestry that hung on the wall beside her door. "We didn't waste time."

"What was her name?"

"Melena."

"Was she a soldier, too?"

"No." A soft smile touched his lips, then quickly dissipated. "She was a healer. A soft young thing. She died in an explosion."

"I am so sorry, Ronon."

"The fireball swallowed her like kindling wood." He didn't seem to hear her. "I watched her die, and all I could think was at least she hadn't been culled." He rubbed a thumb and forefinger together, as if remembering the touch of soft young skin. "She never saw Sateda fall."

Teyla set aside her tea and crawled across the bed to straddle his lap. "You are a hero, Ronon," she murmured, laying her hands on his shoulders. "Melena believed it, as do I."

His eyes focused on her lips, then drifted higher. "Thank you," he murmured, hands coming to rest on her narrow waist.

"You are welcome," she said with a smile, and kissed his furrowed brow. His lips brushed the hollow of her throat as his hands found the tie of her robe, and her tea cooled slowly until it was cold.

&&&

"Where would you be if the Earth-folk hadn't arrived?"

The sun was warm and golden as it lay across the bed. Teyla shifted closer to find a better position for her head on Ronon's shoulder as she pondered the question. Two weeks had passed since he'd started coming to her bed every night; one week since he'd started staying till morning.

"Somewhere with my people," she answered after a few minutes' thought. "Trying to survive. Fighting the Wraith."

"Do you ever think you'd be dead?"

She raised her head, propping her arms on his chest so she could gaze down into his face. "I do," she answered softly. "But I prefer to believe I would have lived to defend my people."

He wrapped a tendril of her hair around his finger and tugged gently, which made Teyla smile. Somewhere along the way Ronon had developed an affection for her hair, and he took every opportunity to touch it. "I'd still be running," he mumbled, watching the way the sunlight caught the multi-tonal facets of her hair and made it glitter like burnished copper.

"It is possible," she murmured.

"I wonder if I ever passed you on some planet, back in the beginning."

She kissed his thumb and rubbed her cheek against his fingers. "I think I would have remembered even a fleeting meeting with a man such as you, Ronon."

Once Teyla had overheard some of the women in the mess hall talking about Ronon's "megawatt" smile. It wasn't a term she was familiar with, but her time with him had given her an idea what it meant. When Ronon smiled, it lit up his face and crinkled his eyes like a child. He didn't smile often, but when he did, it was immaculate. Quality was what mattered for him, not quantity.

He smiled for her now. "Because I'm such a rugged specimen of raw, sexual masculinity?" he asked, his chest puffing up proudly and lifting her a few inches.

Teyla twisted her lips in mock seriousness. "No, because your smell when we found you was so strong it was almost visible. I would never forget it."

He laughed and wrapped her in his arms, making her squeal as he dug his fingers into her sides and tickled her. She flailed and kicked, rucking up the bedclothes and sending the blankets sailing. But the sun warmed her legs, and what the sun didn't touch Ronon warmed nicely, so she hardly noticed they were missing.

&&&

Once, during her early days on Atlantis, Teyla had come across Dr. Beckett putting together a puzzle in the infirmary. It was incongruous, to say the least, to find the doctor slaving away over a 1500 piece puzzle of kittens in a basket, but Teyla had already come to the decision that her Earth-based comrades were often unusual in their habits, and this was not such a bad thing.

What intrigued her most about the situation, however, was not so much the puzzle itself as the fact that Carson was methodically going over each piece and separating them into two piles. "The edges and the inside bits," he explained when he caught her questioning glance. "Once ye've got the edges done, the rest just falls inta place. Ooh!" He held up one particular piece and grinned from ear to ear. "Got a corner! Ye always want ta find the corners, Teyla girl. They're what hold it all together."

&&&

It was three months since their trysts had begun, and three weeks since the others had discovered the secret. It was a miracle, really, that they'd kept it hidden so long. The soft little touches beneath the conference table; Ronon's steadying hand on her back as they stepped through the Gate onto strange new worlds. Now that Teyla thought back on it, she had to wonder how their teammates could have been so blind.

"Why don't ye go get some sleep, Teyla." Dr. Beckett's soft accent jarred her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see his kindly face hovering beside her. "He'll not be wakin' up for hours yet, if not days. I promise I'll let ye know as soon as anythin' changes."

She gave the doctor a tired smile. "Thank you, Dr. Beckett," she replied wearily. "I would prefer to stay."

"Ye look bone-tired, Teyla," he warned softly, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Ronon's not the only one who needs ta heal."

Her gaze fell once again on the man in the bed in front of her. It was unnatural seeing Ronon surrounded by the sickly greens and whites of the infirmary when she was so used to watching him sleep surrounded by the blues, reds and golds of her quarters. The harsh lighting had turned his dusky warm skin into a gray shell, and the ventilation tube that disappeared into his mouth had him breathing all wrong. She knew the rhythm of his lungs, and this mechanical action was utterly alien. If not for the three bullet holes in his chest, concealed neatly by a tight white bandage, she would have ripped the tube away and let him breathe on his own.

"My leg is fine, Dr. Beckett," she responded quietly. "I have had much worse."

"It's not just ye're leg I'm talkin' about."

The gunfire had taken them all by surprise. They'd told her in the briefing that the planet's native villagers had opened fire, believing the Atlantis contingent were looters or pirates or brigands of some sort. The reasons behind the attack didn't matter much to her. Truth be told, she couldn't place blame on the villagers when they had just been protecting their home from a perceived threat. She would have done the same thing in their position; so would Ronon.

He had been the first to fall. When that had happened, nothing else had registered. She vaguely remembered a searing pain in her thigh, but nothing else filtered past her tunnel vision as she watched her lover bleeding to death in a fresh mown field filled with yellow spring daisies.

A pillow and blanket appeared in her line of sight. Teyla blinked and looked up.

"I thought you might be tired," Colonel Sheppard murmured with an understanding smile. "I knew you wouldn't go back to your own room, so I grabbed some of your things and brought them down here." He shook the pillow again, and she recognized it as one of the cushions from her bed. The blanket, too, was familiar.

She took them slowly, as if they weren't quite real. "Thank you," she murmured, hugging the items to her chest.

"No problem." He was quiet for a minute, then gestured to the next bed down the line from Ronon's. "You want to lie down?"

She allowed herself to be led, and truth be told she was grateful for the relative comfort of the thin mattress after the hard chair.

"You get some rest," Sheppard told her, tucking the pillow under her head. "The big guy'd have my head on a platter if he thought I wasn't looking after you while he's out of action." He smiled and spread the blanket over her. "There. Comfortable?"

Teyla nodded. "Thank you, John."

He stroked her hair. "You're welcome," he said with another small smile. Then, sobering slightly, he added, "He's going to be all right, Teyla. We got him back to Beckett in time. You don't have to worry about him now."

She brought her eyes down to peer at Ronon around Sheppard's body. "I always worry, John," she murmured.

"I don't think he'd like to hear that."

"That is why I never tell him."

That seemed to bring the conversation to a close, and John gave her hand a squeeze before he left her bedside. Teyla felt her eyes growing heavy as the minutes ticked by, but she didn't allow herself to give in to sleep. After ten minutes of waging that particular battle, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and hobbled to Ronon's side. She took a moment to stroke her hand over his familiar dreadlocks and to trace the outline of the tattoo on his throat. Bending at the waist, she kissed him softly, then straightened and draped her blanket over his prone form. The rich red and gold pattern lent new life to his ashen complexion, and tears stung her eyes as she hobbled backwards to her own bed.

When she finally fell asleep, she decided it was only because her pillow smelled like home.

&&&

"You are far too good at this, Ronon. Should I be worried where you have been practicing?"

He chuckled and kissed her shoulder. "No," he told her honestly. "I'm just good with hair."

Teyla arched an eyebrow even though he couldn't see. "Is that so?"

"Are you insulting my hair?"

She smiled and tilted her head backwards so she could see his upside down grin. "Never, my love."

He kissed the tip of her nose. "Good." He tapped the back of her head to tilt her head forward again so he could resume his braiding.

It was four months since their relationship had begun, one week since he'd been allowed out of the infirmary, and one hour since he'd offered to braid her hair. Teyla was still giddy at having him back with her, alive and healthy, so while she didn't typically braid her hair she accepted his offer. Of course, any time Ronon had the opportunity to play with her hair he took full advantage, so he'd spent thirty minutes brushing and smoothing her chestnut tresses before getting down to the actual business of braiding. The gentle tug and release on her scalp was remarkably soothing, and she let herself relax.

"There are times I think you are only with me for my hair, Ronon Dex," she sighed, smiling.

"You know that's not true."

"Oh?"

"I'm here for your incredible body AND your hair."

She laughed and leaned back against him, tilting her face up once more for a kiss. "Thank you for correcting me," she teased.

He kissed her obligingly; a soft little kiss laced with affection. "Anytime."

Shifting onto her side, Teyla took the opportunity to run her fingers over the pink, puckered scars of his recently healed wounds. Ronon watched her quietly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her tailbone.

"While you were in the infirmary, I realized something," she murmured after a few moment's contemplation.

"What's that?"

"Having slept with you, I now find it incredibly difficult to sleep alone."

He rested his chin on top of her head. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty addictive."

She smiled and spread her fingers over his heart. "Yes."

He kissed her forehead. "What do you suppose that means?"

She traced invisible lines between the three fresh scars that decorated his chest. "Puzzle pieces," she murmured, as her lines formed an imaginary triangle. Three lines, three scars, three locks of hair plaited into a Satedan braid... Angles, edges and corners...

"What?"

She raised her eyes and smiled for him. "Nothing," she murmured, resting her palm on his collarbone. "Thoughts spoken aloud. Are you going to finish your braid?"

"I'm going to finish YOUR braid, if that's what you mean. But you've got to sit up first."

She did as he instructed, and once again felt the soothing tug and release of his careful braiding. Drawing her knees up to her chin, she wrapped her arms around her legs and closed her eyes. When Ronon had first come to her all those months ago, she had invited him in to give him a soft place to land if he needed to fall. She'd just never expected to fall as well.

He tied off her braid with a red leather thong, then turned her in his arms. She molded her body against his side and curled into his chest.

"I like the way you fit right here," Ronon murmured by her ear.

Teyla tucked her head beneath his chin. "I do, too," she whispered. "I like the way we fit."

THE END