Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 2/21

-Chapter 1-

The glassy fronts of the towering buildings dominating Sateda's capital glowered down at him as he wove his way down the crowded street. Ronon ignored the surprisingly unsettling feeling that thought presented as he smiled and nodded politely at the occasional acquaintance he passed. At the moment, all he wanted to do was go home and sleep. His head was throbbing with a return of the headache that had been plaguing him for the past week; his eyes felt like someone had thrown a handful of sand in them.

The sun had almost reached the horizon, signaling the end of another impossibly long day, as Ronon reached his apartment building. He waved absently at one of his neighbors, a sweet older woman who reminded him strongly of his grandmother, as he ascended two-by-two the eight steps to his front door.

The smell of baking bread and scented candles greeted him as he closed the door behind him and reached for the buckle of his holster. As he hung the contraption on the hook by the door, he appreciatively sniffed and decided sleep could wait. For a few minutes, at least.

He followed the smell of the bread and the sweet sound of a softly humming feminine voice to the little but welcoming kitchen. He paused to loom in the doorway and behold the sight of which he was sure he'd never tire.

Ronon's wife, small but incredibly powerful when angered, stood on her bare tiptoes to reach into the cupboard above the stove. Her loose hair hung down her back as she tipped her head to see better, straining her arm to try to snag a container of spice that was just out of reach. She stopped humming and sighed loudly, her body language shouting frustration as she lowered herself back to her normal height.

He took pity and silently walked up behind her. Being over a foot taller than she, he was easily able to reach over her and pick up the desired container. "Here you go," he said, trying to smother the laughter in his tone as he handed it to her.

Her elbow gently poked him in the ribs as she took it from him. "Thank you." She didn't turn to look up at him as she uncapped the bottle and shook some of the contents into the steaming pot on the stovetop.

Ronon reached past her again to take the container and the lid and set them aside. He gently seized her shoulders and turned her to face him, tipping her chin up so he could kiss her. Teyla. . .

She smiled impishly at him when he pulled back. "I do not suppose you would care to put it back for me?"

He thought about that for a moment while absently stroking his thumb over the black symbol painted on her neck. It was exactly like his, the symbol of his clan that she claimed as her own when she married him, as was custom.

She smiled and held the container of spice up between them. "Please?"

Ronon sighed and acquiesced, easily reaching over her head to put it back in the high cabinet. "How was your day?" He moved over to another cabinet to look for pain pills. Probably not a good idea, considering how many he'd been taking lately, but he'd never be able to sleep with the throbbing in his head.

Plates clanked, and Ronon turned to see the white-knuckled grip Teyla had on the stoneware. "Teyla?" Perhaps that hadn't been the right question to ask. "What happened?"

She looked up at him with sad, haunted eyes. "I thought it was going to get easier," she said softly. "That is why I have kept the job. But it is just making it all worse."

Ronon moved back across the kitchen to take the plates from her hands and set them aside so he could hug her. "I'm sorry."

"Stop it. You always apologize for things that are not your fault." She pushed him away and turned back to the soup. "All those children, and no one wants them. . ." Her hand closed into a tight fist over the stirring spoon's handle. "It is not fair."

Ronon had thought it would be hard on her, but had bowed to her wishes. She had a kind heart for anyone of any age, but most particularly for children. The orphans of Sateda had long had somewhere to go, but beyond the orphanage it was rare to find anyone who wanted to take any of them in. They'd briefly discussed adopting a child, but Teyla felt she couldn't, because she wanted to take them all. He understood her feelings, but it still hurt to know that she was going through all that, just because she felt it was her fault. . .

Growing up as an orphan herself had probably not helped the situation.

"I wish I could tell you what to do, Teyla." He rested his chin on the crown of her head and gazed through the window over the cookstove. "But—"

"I know. It was my decision, and you supported me. It would be unfair for me to blame something on you that is not your fault."

"It's not yours either," he argued. "Some things just happen. We don't know why. And those kids – you've really made their lives better. You care for them. You love them. It's what they want – what they need. You're doing a good thing. But if it's hurting you too much. . ." He trailed off. Honestly, what more could he say?

"Two more were brought in today. Their mother died in childbirth with the younger child. Their father—" She paused, her hands tightening into fists behind his back. "He was killed yesterday, in that attack on Ryhiann. They are girls, aged four and six. They do not understand the situation. They asked me – when they were going to get to go home."

The ache in his head increased tenfold, this time with emotional pain instead of physical. "I'm sorry, Teyla." He seemed to keep saying that; it was far from adequate but he had no clue what else there was to say.

Teyla pulled away and turned back to the soup. "It is fine. They will adjust, as will I. Eventually." Her free hand swept up quickly to wipe at her face. "Wash your hands. It is almost ready."

Ronon watched his wife out of the corner of his eye as he washed and dried his hands. She silently ladled the soup and set the bowls on the table before getting a knife to slice the bread. Each cut with the knife seemed to etch another line of pain in her face. He wondered how much longer she could keep this up.

However, as they sat down at the table the look of pain cleared from her face, and she leaned toward him interestedly. "How was your day?"

Ronon wisely allowed the subject change. "Not bad, I suppose. Sheppard sprained his wrist – he's going to be out of training for a few days."

Teyla shook her head and smiled. "I am not sure I have ever known anyone else so accident prone."

"Yeah, me either. He's probably happy for the vacation, though – Kell has our company going through particularly difficult maneuvers this week. I promised to help Shep catch up when his wrist is better."

Teyla tipped her head to the side and smiled at him. "It is a pity other worlds do not have armies with men as dedicated as you and John are to Sateda's," she commented. "If they did, perhaps this galaxy really would have a real chance of defeating the Wraith."

Ronon stood and returned to the cabinet for his previously-forgotten pain pills. "I don't know, we've met some pretty good men out there." He turned and caught Teyla's concerned glance as he sat again. "What?"

"More pills?" Her gaze was fastened on the two white tablets in his hand.

"My headache won't go away. It's probably just stress." He tossed the pills back and returned to his dinner. "Like I said, Kell's got us doing particularly trying maneuvers."

"Perhaps you should go see Doctor Beckett." Teyla's tone implied that this was not a request.

Ronon lowered his head and looked at from beneath half-closed lids. "Okay, fine. If it's not better by next week, I'll go. Happy?"

Teyla shook her head and went back to her soup. "I suppose that is as good as I am going to get from you. I am satisfied."

Ronon returned to his meal in silence, unwilling to admit that maybe there was more to these headaches than he thought.

-Atlantis-

Almost four years in the Pegasus galaxy had taught Carson Beckett that there was more to life out there than he could have ever dreamed. The same amount of time had also convinced him that he'd seen, medically, everything there was to see.

However, as he'd just learned, Fate and the galaxy still had another curve ball to throw at him.

The Scot silently regarded the people gathered around the briefing room table staring at him. Elizabeth Weir, with her calm gaze, had already been updated on the situation and was now staring abstractedly at her data pad. Her expression suggested she was still trying to understand the implications.

Rodney McKay was impatiently rapping his fingers on the tabletop, his gaze pinned on Carson. Assuredly there was something "important" that needed his attention; it was good enough for him that they'd gotten their teammate back with no apparent damage to either body or mind. That, however, was a gross underestimation on his part.

On the other side of Elizabeth, John Sheppard sat with his eyes focused across the table at the last of his four teammates that wasn't in the infirmary. His gaze wandered over to Carson, and he nodded slightly. The disturbed expression on this face told Beckett that Elizabeth had not kept the information to herself.

Carson turned to the last person in the room. Teyla Emmagan sat with her hands folded gracefully on the tabletop. But a closer look revealed that her knuckles were white, and the tightness around her mouth and eyes spoke of stress-filled weeks of little sleep and wearying worry. She refused to meet Carson's gaze, instead continuing to stare at her hands.

Beckett looked down at the pad in his hands. It was an unnecessary gesture, since he'd been over what it told him a hundred times, but it gave him a moment to compose his expression and make sure his voice wouldn't shake. "As you know, I've done more extensive tests on Ronon now that he's back safe on Atlantis." He set the pad down, then picked it right back up again. He wouldn't look at it again, but holding something seemed to help calm his nerves. "Initial scans showed everything was normal. However, the longer I examined the results, the more anomalies I began to notice."

Carson could feel two pairs of eyes, one brown and one blue, drilling into him. Get to the point, man. He obliged. "Ronon's brain shows an increased amount of neural activity. Ordinarily this would not concern me, considering he just spent three weeks hooked up to a machine meant to do just that. However, it does concern me because he is no longer hooked up to that device. His neural activity should have returned to normal almost immediately after being disconnected."

Rodney appeared to be grinding his teeth. "Are you saying I disconnected him wrong? That he's – he's—?" He stumbled over the words, but was silenced when a gentle feminine voice spoke them.

"You are trying to tell us that the device somehow damaged his mind."

Carson shifted his focus to Teyla. This time she steadily met his eyes. "I don't know for certain," he said softly, wishing he had a more reassuring answer for her. For a moment, he wished he could lie, just to make her feel better. "However, it seems his mind is somehow convinced that it's still hooked up to that device. I don't know if it's permanent, or even what's causing it. All I know is he's still living in whatever world that device created for him."

"But he woke up," Sheppard argued. "He seemed to know he was on Atlantis."

"Not necessarily," Carson contradicted. "Ronon wasn't conscious for very long. He never confirmed or denied that he knew where he was."

Teyla spoke again. "He recognized me, however."

Beckett nodded. "That gives me hope. Since he recognized Teyla, I'm hoping that he is at least on the mend. Perhaps this is only an effect that will linger a little while in his unconscious mind – dreams, so to speak."

"Or," John stressed, "maybe it means that at least Teyla was integrated into whatever world the Quitari created for him. McKay was able to figure out the machine was meant to get information. Maybe he thought he was living his life normally on Atlantis while hooked up to the machine."

Elizabeth turned to look at him. "That is not a comforting thought."

Carson agreed. "Or maybe it created another world for him, using his thoughts and memories to create an atmosphere where he'd be comfortable and wouldn't feel suspicious of giving up information. However it was done, it is still happening. We need to focus on returning his neural levels to normal and helping him realize what happened to him, and that he's safe on Atlantis again."

"How can I be of assistance?" Teyla asked, and her teammates were quick to offer their services as well.

Beckett thought for a moment. "Well, we know for sure right now that Ronon recognizes Teyla. When next he awakes, she should definitely be there. We'll take these things one step at a time, and perhaps reintroduce you three to him then – if he's up to it. Now, ye all have to understand that these things hinge on whether or not I'm able to return his neural levels to normal, and what reality he's been living in his mind. Hopefully this will go smoothly and everything will clear up soon." He did not, however, voice what they were all thinking: Yeah, and when has something that easy happened on this expedition?

Elizabeth set down her data pad and nodded. "Very well. Keep us up to date. Dismissed." She pushed to her feet and headed for the doors, John a few steps behind her.

Rodney continued to sit in his chair at the briefing table, his gaze fastened on the far wall. Carson decided to leave him alone to sort out his thoughts as he motioned for Teyla to follow him.

Surely there was nothing left to go wrong!

-To Be Continued-