Write Offs

Chapter 3

Klaxonner

It is all changed because of him. That's all it is.

She sits at her desk in the backdrop of the ocean, the same purple and orange backdrops bleeding across the walls of the room. Sits just as she has for the last three years, tracing the pattern of the setting sun over her far wall, trying not to stare at the smashed picture of SG-1, and her and him standing there, beside each other, before any of this happened.

Examining the Ori oar for the umpteenth time because it's the only clue they have left as to where the hybrid ship might have shot off too. Wishes she could have been cognitive for those last moments, but her memories are of a dark ship, her cold body, and pain so strong it rippled from her hips and lower back down her legs.

The Ori oar with the same intercut symbols in the same pattern as the day before and the day before and she'll sit here until the room grows dark, until her eyes can't make out the symbols any longer, forcing herself to ruminate on when she was stuck in Ver Isca, when she was stuck as Qetesh, to uncover any shrouded clues to interpret the artifact differently.

Daniel's sacrifice shouldn't be unjust.

A knock at the door pulls her out of her reverie, her deep glazed stare into the same oar that used to sit upon an examination table that she has since just slapped over her desk because standing all day was growing tiresome.

He walks into the room, the same grim half-smile on his face he always greets her with. Understands her work, doesn't try to talk her out of it as Rodney or Shepperd try to, is more empathetic to her grieving like Teyla is, and perhaps it comes with the simple notion of not being Tau'ri, that all three of them have witnessed wars and lost comrades, neighbors, and family in extremely unjust and horrific manners.

"Someone wanted to see you." From his arms he releases their son, just on the end of toddlerhood with still knocking knees and a wobbled but forceful stride towards her. His face illuminates as he recognizes her sitting behind the desk like she has done for much of his life. Sitting in the same chair, breastfeeding him with one arm tucked under the crook of his body while the other frantically typed away filing through the database for references.

His tiny laughter punctuates through the air like the softest gunfire she's ever heard. This morning she dressed him in a plaid button up shirt with a t-shirt with some unknown cartoon character on it beneath and a teensy pair of slacks. Somehow reminiscent of his age but also his father, and even if she found Daniel, she still wouldn't know how he would fit into the familial equations, but perhaps she would try harder to figure it out.

"Samson," she greets her perfect little boy with a bright grin and he clasps his warm sticky hands around the legs of her tights, no doubt staining them with strawberry jam. Hefting his weight up, she sits him in her lap, and his face and round cheeks are the picture of perfection. "My darling boy, have you had a good day?"

"Went golfin, Mama." His chubby little fingers fondle the golden necklace she's wearing, and she can't blame the boy for garnering her eye for fine wares.

"You went golfing?" Asks her son but stares over him to Ronon who scratches the back of his head and shrugs, leaning against the wall.

"He just whipped about a dozen balls into the ocean," he clarifies with a big grin on his face, obviously proud at their toddler's misdeeds. "Would've dumped the whole bucket if Shepperd didn't get so upset at the loss."

"Oh, Samson." Nuzzles her nose to her son's cheek and relishes in his laugh. She's had leagues of men dedicate their love to her, had hundreds of thousands of worshippers as Qetesh, yet she has never heard a sound quick so divine as his jovial little shriek. "I'm sure what your father means is that he would have never let you set foot on that slippery side deck with the poorly constructed guardrail."

Ronon shrugs, knows how to play the game as well as her, and he bites the inside of his bottom lip. "Boy's gotta learn sometime."

"Yes, well the boy is hardly three-years-old yet." When he reaches a jammy hand towards the oar, she collects him back into her lap quickly, and stands so his sneakered feet hang from her hip. "Perhaps taking him to areas from which he could easily slip and tumble into the ocean below should be prohibited."

Ronon, of course, cracks first because he usually cracks first. His grin turns genuine not cheeky and he pushes himself off the wall. "He wanted to see you, baby." Lumbers forward meeting her in two steps, his finger wiping an eyelash or a makeup smudge from her cheek. "I told him we could hang with Torren and Shepperd while they took pot shots."

"He can always come and see me." Bounces him against her hip and his full lips curl into her grin. "Isn't that right my precious boy?"

"Right, mama." Throws himself into a hug again, this time his cheek pressing into hers and every time it is a gift. After Adria, after her past husbands, she did not envision rearing a child ever again and now that she has him and he's here, she enjoys every moment of it because the Ori, the Wraith, probably hover closer than they think.

"Well, I kinda wanted to see you too." Ronon's hand falls firm over the small of her back, guiding her closer to him.

Crooks and eyebrow at him and allows herself to be reeled inwards. "Is that so?"

"It's always so." The deepness of his voice mellows out as his breath, his words grow nearer to her. He punctuates the end of the sentence with a kiss, his lips covering hers with intensity, more than she's been used to in the last few months, since delving fully into finding Daniel and protect their son. Let's his warmth consume her, retuning the kiss in fervent fashion, her hand scrolling up his arm, his cupping the side of her face.

But something forces their bodies apart, the kiss to break and her eyes to flutter open. In her arms, Samson has managed to bring his leg to Ronon's shoulder, and is driving him away with succinct kicks. "No. My. Mama."

The possessive phase was quite adorable when he started it a few months ago, not allowing anyone to conversate or touch her without his explicit agreement, but now it grows old as even cuddling on the couch turns into a debate with the toddler.

"Okay. Okay." Ronon rubs his shoulders in mock hurt, his wink not lost on her. "I never said she wasn't your mom."

"No touch."

"Fine, but that's not the way little brothers or sisters are made."

"Ohhh." Her son nods and does a very obvious wink with one eye, then the other.

Glancing between him and Ronon she sighs and sets the boy on his two feet again to cause a ruckus throughout her office. All of the dangerous artifacts are up high, and he has a small basket of trucks and dolls to choose from in the corner.

She crosses her arms and a blush blooming at her cheeks. "Please tell me you did not bring up the subject of a younger sibling to him."

"Of course not." His hand blankets her shoulder, then slides down the back of her bicep and in the sensation, she allows herself to be tugged closer again. "He brought it up to me."

Ridgely fits the tip of her head under his chin as he ensnares her in a bear hug of sorts. "I thought we talked about this."

"No, no." Holds her at arms length and they both pause the debate to watch Samson crawl over the floor holding a doll under his arm while scooting a wooden car across the tiles. When Ronon's eyes capture hers again, they're soft, but genuine. "We were supposed to have a talk about this six months ago, but you got more wrapped up in your translations—"

"I am trying to keep him safe."

"Which is great. I want the little man safe too. But I don't think we have to put everything on hold to—"

"And what if they come back again?"

"Who?"

"The Ori or Wraith or whomever?" Eyes burn from the research, the daydreaming while clacking away at a computer all day instead of laying on her stomach on the floor with her beautiful boy. "What if they come back for him, or worse, for the next one?"

"Vala—"

"What if I don't make it back next time."

The topic dies dry as another knock at the door interrupts. Has to remind herself to unset her jaw, relax her shoulders and enjoy the brief glimpse of her son coddling a car and driving a doll across the floor now.

"Auntie Sam." Samson abandons all toys in the middle of the floor, running over to embrace her, tiny arms strangling around her leg, his chin digging against her knee.

"Hey Buddy." Sam grins at him, her hand rubbing reassuringly against his back. She uses the other hand to direct herself and wheels into the room at a slow enough pace that he can keep up.

"Where's the other chair?"

"Sonny," Ronon's voice timbers in a low growl as he walks towards the boy. It's still a sensitive subject, Samantha's still in physiotherapy, they're all still in psychological therapy, but there are certain things none of them talk about. The extent of her injuries, the loss of Daniel.

"It's all right." The grin is genuine, and she lets Samson clamber upon her lap. He prefers her mechanical wheelchair because of the variety of buttons and levers. Samantha is quick as ever to read a situation though and she drags her eyes between them questioning, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No." She answers flat before Ronon even has a say. His shoulders fall out of relaxation into an area of dejection, and he will not look at her, but he remains quiet. "Nothing that can't wait a little while longer."

"Auntie Sam?" Her son leans across Samantha's lap, pushing on the arms and sides of the manual wheelchair. "Where's the horn."

"There is none on this one, Sonny." She restrains him with hands on either side of his torso and he freezes until she fans out her fingers, tickling him into a fit of marvelous giggles. She doesn't remember much about being a child, but she knows she never laughed this much or was ever in this high of spirits. "I thought you'd take care of the horn part for me."

"Where are we headed?" Ronon asks as Sam repositions herself at the doorway ready to scroll into the hallway.

"Conference room. McKay thinks he might have found evidence of an Ori-Wraith colony on an outer rim planet." The sound of wheels running against tile is intercepted by her son's mouth klaxoning in the impression of a horn.

A/N: Only one more story in the series. Heads up that it takes place 2 years in the future.