Reality denied comes back to haunt

The humiliation of having lost her cool warred with the continued anger that simmered after her rare display of temper. For five days, Grace studiously avoided the control room, McKay, Weir, and Ronon. One the sixth day though, her luck ran out just as she was sitting across from Cindy Cole in the mess hall at lunch. They'd made it through the list of potential dishes for the Thanksgiving dinner and were just drafting the email over coffee and pie when the shadow fell over the table. When she lifted her eyes, she saw Ronon peering down at her, tray in hand. And just like that, her concentration was obliterated, along with her resolve.

"Hey." His voice was low as he gave a nod toward Cindy and then reached to pull out the chair beside her, dropping into it without invitation.

Cindy, oblivious to anything being off, flashed him a friendly smile. "Hey, Ronon. We're just getting the menu drafted for the Thanksgiving meal next Thursday. It's going to be better than anything you can get in here. I promise."

"Thanksgiving?" Ronon rumbled out, a question in his voice as he ripped open the packaging of a turkey sandwich. "What's that?"

"Holiday." Grace supplied shortly as she returned her attention to the tablet and continued working on the email.

Grace could feel Cindy's eyes on her and knew that if she looked up, she would see a faint frown of confusion on the other woman's face at her abrupt answer. Grace was never abrupt. Never rude. Never short. Instead of questioning her, Cindy began to fill Ronon in on the holiday's significance without missing a beat. And all the while, as the two discussed turkey, dressing, side dishes, the entire shebang, Grace was growing ever more acutely aware of Ronon beside her. It was ridiculous. He wasn't even doing anything other than eating his lunch and everything in her was on high alert. From the way his fingers gripped the fork he held in one hand as he worked at the bowl of fresh fruit, to the way he leaned forward to brace an arm on the table as Cindy described the concept of candied yams to him. Even the fucking line of his bare bicep was a distraction.

Finally, when she could take it no more, she hit send on the email and rose to her feet, reaching for her tray. "I gotta go. I'm late for a meeting with my team." She lied through her teeth, didn't make eye contact with either of them, and fled like the coward she'd somehow turned into. Dimly, she heard Ronon's chair behind her, his hurried words to Cole, and his footsteps behind her. She quickened her step but had barely made it into the transporter before he was inside beside her. As she reached to tap the icon for her lab level, his hand shot out, gently grasping her wrist to stop her. Instead, he reached out and selected another icon, another part of the city entirely.

After the momentary disorientation of the flash had subsided and the doors slid open, he turned to step out, hauling her unceremoniously behind him. Grace tugged against the warm, gentle grip that seemed to turn to iron, holding her fast as he steered her toward the building where they held their dinners. She had no choice but to nearly jog to keep up with his long stride when he pulled her into the large atrium in the center, beneath the massive tree that had always seemed out of place. Only when he'd released her did she speak. "What the hell?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He shot back.

Grace stared at him for a moment, bewildered. "What?"

He arched one brow and took a step back, staring at her as though she were an idiot. "You've been avoiding me for a week."

"Don't be ridiculous." She snapped without thinking about it. In that moment, everything irritated her even more. "I do have a job to do. I can't spend my time soothing your bruised ego."

"My bruised…" His expression turned stony. "Is that what you think this is about?"

Grace shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe you should tell me what you think it's about."

His lips peeled back as annoyance flashed in mossy green eyes. "Maybe I would have if you hadn't been hiding for days."

Instantly, the irritation drained away to guilt. He was right. She had been avoiding him. Him and everyone else. Instead of pressing her further, he sighed, his voice softening. "We have to talk about it, Grace."

And just like that, the sound of her name from his lips sent a bolt of warmth through her belly. She took a step back and hugged her tablet to her chest, keeping her eyes trained on the toes of his boots. "No we don't." She was proud that her voice was level, but soft. She sounded almost like herself.

He was silent for a moment. A second later, she heard the rustling of fabric as he shoved fisted hands in his pockets. "So that's it? You don't want to talk about what happened?"

"Nope." She popped the last letter and then forced a bright smile. "I sorta figured you wouldn't either." She cleared her throat and then tried again. "After all. We barely know each other outside a few dinners. So, it's easy to just go back to normal. Right?"

There it was again. That strange silence that Ronon always seemed to let fall when he didn't know what to say, or perhaps didn't want to say what needed to be said. Either way, she was grateful for it, for those few precious seconds to regain equilibrium. "You do that, then." He finally spoke quietly. "Let me know how it goes."

This time, instead of anger, there was only guilt as he turned to walk away, leaving her alone as the battered boots disappeared from her line of vision. Grace closed her eyes and let her head drop. Her mind was spinning with the strange conversation. She truly had no idea what the hell he'd meant. It wasn't her problem. Or at least that's what she tried to tell herself as she stood there alone, listening to the sound of the doors as they slid closed behind him.

It was for the best, right? Everything could be normal again. The false sense of intimacy bred by shared trauma was an illusion and nothing she'd felt during those two days could be real. It was too dangerous to let her mind fall for the deception of her heart. Hearts were stupid things. Illogical and prone to mistakes. So why did she suddenly feel even more as if the entire world were out of whack now than she had before that bizarre conversation?

Ronon grunted as Teyla's bantos rod struck his hip in with a resounding thwack. It was the third strike in less than half an hour that she'd managed to make actually hurt. Her voice immediately broke through his irritation with himself, laced with concern. "Ronon, what's going on? You're never this distracted."

He closed his eyes and lowered the staff he had been using during their sparring session, balancing his hands on top of it. She was right. It had been three days since the disaster of a conversation with Grace, when she'd all but told him that what had happened on the Makanesh home world had meant nothing. He didn't believe it for a moment, but was at a loss as to what to do about it. "I'm fine." He bit off the words shortly. "Let's keep going."

Before he'd even closed his hand around the staff once more, Teyla had moved, executing some kind of a complex spin that left her barely more than a whirl of chiffon and suede before he felt the sharp strikes of her rods in rapid succession. One on his upper arm, the other across the back of his shoulder. "Ow! Fuck!" He cursed fluidly as he lifted the staff on instinct to ward off further blows. "What the hell?"

She was smirking as she danced backward. "Fine? Sure." The disbelief in her voice was almost as irritating as the fact that this woman could see through him so well after only a few short months of knowing him.

He loathed and adored her for it by turn, depending on his mood. Right now, he went with loathing. "Teyla." Ronon injected a note of warning into his voice.

In the next second, she struck again. This time, he barely managed to catch the first strike, blocking it with the staff as he stepped back. An instant later though, he hit the mat with enough force to knock the wind from him. As he coughed, he saw Teyla standing over him, her smug expression only making him all the more resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to let it go.

Grudgingly, Ronon accepted her hand and let her help him to his feet as he sighed. "Fine. I'm distracted."

"Would you like to talk about?" Teyla's demeanor instantly changed from that of smugness to that sisterly concern Ronon had seen her directing at him more and more often as his time on Atlantis passed.

He didn't want to. He really didn't want to talk about it. But he was getting nowhere trying to puzzle it out on his own. On instinct, he glanced toward the door of the gym, though they were alone. He began to pace the perimeter of the mat, twirling the staff to keep his hands busy as he fought for words. "You remember that report you helped me write? About the dumb op that McKay wouldn't listen to me about?"

Teyla's nod was immediate. "Yes, of course. I thought you said Dr. Weir agreed with you and Dr. Beque that the power source was not worth the potential diplomatic issues that might arise? Especially since it appears a civil war might be imminent on the planet."

Ronon nodded. It had been the one good thing to come out of the bizarre mission. He wanted there to be two, Grace should be the second good thing, but thus far, he was even more confused by the woman than he'd been before the disaster of a run. Ronon spoke quietly, reluctantly. "I may not have told you everything."

Immediately, Teyla's intelligent eyes narrowed suspiciously. He saw no judgment, only patent curiosity. He knew her well enough by now that there would be no judgment. She'd watched him kill Kell in cold blood, then she'd listened to his reasoning and accepted it. And just like that, in that one moment, she'd become the closest thing he had to family. He was discovering that for all their differences, the Athosians and Satedans were closer than Earth and Sateda in terms of culture and perspective on many things. More than once, Teyla had bridged the gap between his understanding of Earth culture and his own, and she'd always done it in a way that never made him feel stupid, as Sheppard had inadvertantly done a few times.

Ronon licked his lips and closed his eyes for a moment as he groped ineffectually for the right words. "You remember how I told you what they demanded?"

Teyla gave a nod. "Yes. Of course. You were very clear in your recounting of what happened. I wrote it exactly as you-" She cut herself off as she realized what he was implying. "Ronon, you didn't… force…."

"No. Of course not." He couldn't stop the hot flush of raw anger for a moment, instinctual, that she could even think him capable of such a thing for even a second. "We…" He trailed off for a moment, then tried again. "We came up with a plan."

"A plan?" Teyla's voice was hesitant. "What kind of a plan?"

Ronon's fingers tightened on the staff as he paused, unable to bring himself to meet her eyes. "We… that is I…. she and I… we… uh…" He knew the second that Teyla understood, from the soft sound of understanding that she gave. "We were being watched. I didn't want to hurt her, but- I couldn't think of a way out. There were guards, and-" He was damn near stammering now as he bit his lower lip and then sighed in frustration. "I didn't want to hurt her, Teyla. I tried my best not to. She told me she was fine. She was... she…" He cut his gaze to Teyla, only to find her staring at him in sympathy. "She enjoyed it. She said so. Several times. It would be fine except that…" Ronon trailed off once more and sighed. How in the hell could he make Teyla understand?

She gave him a moment, before she prompted him gently. "What?"

How could he tell her that he'd married the damn woman by Satedan law, and even in his own eyes it was real, though Grace apparently had no concept of it? He gritted his teeth and fought through the embarrassment and the humiliation, forcing out the words in a low growl. "The Elders required I perform the marriage rites, to satisfy their council. Makai told me, pretty bluntly, that if I didn't, they'd take her. And I couldn't let that happen. And I thought she understood what it meant, Teyla. I thought she understood that it was real. But since we got back, she's been avoiding me. She won't even talk about it."

When he finally stopped pacing, he found Teyla staring at him, her mouth open, working silently, like a fish on a riverbank, gasping for water. A moment later, she drew in a breath, transferring both bantos rods to one hand and holding up her empty hand, palm outward. "You performed the marriage rites?"

Ronon remained silent as she surged forward, reaching for his hand, tugging it from the staff and staring at the cut that was nearly healed, a thin white scar beginning to form at the edges. She lifted her hands to his face for a moment, her eyes betraying her displeasure. "Ronon, surely there was some other way to-"

"There wasn't." He cut her off with a growl. "You think I would do something like that if I had another option?" As she opened her mouth to speak once more, Ronon cut her off with a slash of his hand. "No. You weren't there, Teyla. I'm not going to justify my actions to you. My problem isn't the damn rites anyway. It's that she won't fucking talk to me."

"And with good reason!" Teyla snapped the words, her tone drawing Ronon up short. He regarded her warily for a moment. She continued a second later. "She was forced into a false marriage with a man she doesn't know. She was cornered into sharing his bed, his body. She may have enjoyed it in the moment, as I am sure any woman you take to your bed would. I have no doubt that you make certain of such a thing. But Ronon, her culture is not like yours or mine. What you say happened is far, far from what is normal to her."

"I figured that out on my own, thanks." He snapped without thought.

For the first time since the day he'd killed Kell, Teyla Emmagen shoved a finger in his face. "You wanted my help, that means you will watch your tone."

A clear warning, if ever there was one. Ronon immediately backed down, nodding silently. She continued softly. "You cannot expect her to accept this as you do, as what you believe it is. You must accept that what happened was simply an unfortunate event that took place because neither of you had any choice. You need to let this go, Ronon."

He stared at her for a moment in silence. The very idea of forsaking the sanctity of what he'd promised, even if the circumstances were all wrong, even if the woman was all wrong, was something that repulsed him. He shook his head slowly. "I can't. It's a life vow, Teyla. It's sacred to me, even if it's not to her. I can't just let it go."

The instant he used the words, he saw understanding pass over her features. It was one of those things that the Satedans shared with the Athosians. Though it had a different term in her culture, the idea was no less sacred, no less unbreakable to her people than it was to him and his. She swallowed and then sighed. "I understand."

A moment later, she took a step back and averted her gaze, her eyes narrowing as she nodded. "If you truly cannot let this go, you have to at least be careful." Ronon watched as unveiled doubt entered her eyes. "You must show her that you are serious in your intentions. But do not frighten her. You must be patient and you must act with deliberation and genuine intent."

Ronon nodded and for the first time in weeks, he felt relief begin to creep in as the perpetual knot in his stomach began to ease. "I don't know what to do. She won't talk to me."

"You have courted before. I think you know how it is done." Here, Teyla finally broke into a half-smile. "Start small and go from there."

"Small." He echoed quietly, though even that single word was riddled with doubt. "I can do that."

Teyla was quiet for a moment longer before she pinned him with a serious expression. "I hope you know what you're doing, Ronon. I fear this will end badly, for both of you."

That was Ronon's worst fear too. He had no idea what was happening. His life had made sense two weeks ago, and now he was just as lost and confused as he'd ever been when he was a Runner. At least Teyla hadn't asked him about his emotions. He didn't even know what to call what he felt for Grace. There was an appreciation, a burgeoning affection, the innate need to protect her. The memory of her body beside his, the sounds of her soft whimpers and his name on her lips like a prayer pulled at him. But it wasn't what her people considered love. It wasn't even what he considered love. No, it was possession and promises, plain and simple. But what the hell was going to happen? Ronon had not the first fucking clue.

"Ronon, you're thinking again." Teyla's voice was low and when Ronon's gaze landed on her once more, he found her staring at him cautiously.

He didn't bother to deny it, hesitating before speaking. "Yeah. I can do small, but I'm not really sure what counts as small for her people. I've seen some weird shit when it comes to the people on this base." This time, he didn't bother to try to stop the frown that drew his forehead tight. "Their mating habits are confusing to say the least."

His friend tipped her head to the side curiously. "I don't understand."

Ronon opened his mouth to try to explain, and then snapped it shut again. It was hard to explain something you couldn't fully put your finger on yourself. He drew in a deep breath and then tried again. "A few weeks ago I saw Cole and Garrett on the pier when I was jogging. They were dancing. But there was no music. And not proper dancing either, with actual steps. Just standing there, hugging and swaying."

Teyla's lips pressed into a thin line of understanding as she waited for him to continue. He gestured toward the door as if to indicate the larger world of the base outside the gym. "And then last week, when I was on my way to the briefing before we went off world, I stopped by the reading room to return a dictionary I'd borrowed, and I found Dr. Parrish and Dr. Brown, holding hands while he read to her from a botanical encyclopedia. Teyla, I have no idea what to do here. Am I supposed to get a book on animal husbandry and read it to her like poetry or something? Because if that's what passes for courting among her people, I'm fucked."

He saw the corners of her lips twitch as her gaze flicked behind his head and she cleared her throat. Great. She'd gone from shocked and warning to laughing at him. "Oh. Okay. Thanks. Big help you are, Teyla."

"No. No." She held up a hand as she cleared her throat once more. "I have to admit I find their rituals strange myself. But I'm sure those two things were, at least to some extent, contextual. Perhaps you should speak to someone, Major Lorne, maybe. He knows her pretty well. He is the commanding officer of the off-world team Dr. Becque occasionally works with."

Ronon's gut instinct was to shut that notion down from the first second the idea passed her lips, but even as he opened his mouth to object, he gave it a thought. And then another. And finally, one the third thought, he nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe."

Teyla offered him a smile and then reached out to pat his shoulder. "Good luck. I'm going to lunch." Ronon barely heard her retreating footsteps as he considered her words more carefully. Lorne. It would be an awkward conversation, but Teyla was rarely wrong when she made suggestions. She'd been the one to send him to the base Chaplain when he'd first encountered the Wednesday evening bible study that had baffled him so badly. The young woman had spent the better part of an afternoon explaining the various faiths of her world and eased his anxiety about inadvertently offending someone with his own differing beliefs, or in many cases, lack of beliefs.

After that, Ronon had been forced to reluctantly acknowledge that Teyla had become his go-to for damn near everything he had trouble understanding. She'd never failed to steer him to the right person to explain something on the rare occasions when she couldn't provide the explanation herself.

And so, half an hour later, Ronon found himself standing just inside Lorne's quarters, an unexpected can of cold beer pushed into his hand as the Major gestured him toward the pair of chairs in a corner of the spacious room.

As he dropped into one and opened the beer, Lorne took up residence in the chair across from him with a grin. "So what's up?"

Ronon eyed the other man for a moment and then lifted the can and took a long pull. While the Major wasn't a friend, he did like the guy, and the beer helped. Ronon willed himself to relax as he sought out the words. "Teyla said you could explain something to me."

"Teyla sent you? Color me intrigued." Lorne took a pull from his own beer and leaned back in his seat, tossing one ankle over the opposite knee.
"She said you'd be able to explain Earth courtship." He stated this bluntly, only to find Lorne choking on his drink almost instantly.

The man coughed, sputtering as he held up a hand to indicate he was okay. "I'm…" He coughed again and waited until he'd recovered enough to speak to try again. "Sorry. Just surprised me. Um. Courtship. Dating? Teyla sent you to me for dating advice?"

Ronon gave a nod, schooling his face into a neutral expression. "Yeah."

Lorne stared at him for a long moment before he tipped his can up and took several long swallows. When he lowered it again, he licked his lips and tipped his head, his expression clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah. Okay. Um. Sure. What do you want to know?"

Here, it was him at a loss. "All of it, I guess?" He could tell from the expression on the other man's face that this provided zero clarity. Ronon tried again. "There's a woman."

The Major's mouth twitched before he broke into a grin. "That's great. So you want to ask her out or something?"

Ronon was tempted to walk out. This was not something he'd ever had to have a conversation about, let alone be coached in. "Something like that."

Lorne nodded slowly, then leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Okay. So who is she?"

Against his will, Ronon's lips peeled back and he bared his teeth. Lorne held up both hands as if in surrender. "I'm only asking because the approach you take depends on the woman. Some women, you gotta go slow and easy. Baby steps. Other women, you can take a more direct approach. Look. Nothing you say will leave this room, you have my word. Let me help you."

To his surprise, the earnestness in the other man's eyes eased the embarrassment enough that he finally sighed. He held up the beer in a gesture of acceptance and took a sip before he forced the single word out, praying to whatever gods really existed that the man didn't choke again. "Grace."

Lorne frowned for a moment before his eyes widened. "Grace. Grace Becque. Our Gracie?"

Gracie. Ronon frowned at the nickname. Instantly, that possessive rush unfurled in the pit of his belly once more and for a second he wondered if there was something he didn't know. Instinctively, he narrowed his eyes on Lorne. "Yeah."

His fear was allayed a moment later as Lorne nodded slowly and then grinned. "Nice. She's a sweetheart. Good for you. And her. So have you asked her out yet?"

It was tempting to tell the man bluntly that he'd done much more than that, but to do so would betray everything he needed to achieve. Ronon drew in a breath and decided to stick to answering the question, ignoring the impulse to mark out the woman as his territory in a way that a Satedan would understand, but certainly Lorne wouldn't. A declaration of his intention, of what had happened would only set him back further than he already was. He shook his head. "Not yet. I'm not sure how it works for your people and I don't…" He trailed off into silence and shrugged.

Fortunately, Lorne only seemed to take this as encouragement. "Oh man. I'm so glad you came to me. I'm the best wingman. Just ask Parrish."

Ronon blinked slowly. Was Lorne the one responsible for the scientists crooning at each other about ferns that he'd seen that day? He didn't bother to try to hide his confusion. Lorne's grin only broadened. "Oh. I know the perfect thing. You like movies, right?"

"Yeah." He did. It was one form of Earth entertainment that never failed to both amaze and intrigue him. Way better than the time Beckett had tried to introduce him to puzzles, which were the most boring thing Ronon had ever tried to do. By the end of the first hour, he'd been convinced he'd offended Beckett's God, and by the end of the second, he finally understood the concept of hell that the Bible study group had tried to explain to him on his first and only visit to the most disturbing social event on the base. Ronon's attendance at Bible study had ended the second Dr. Rosenbaum from the botany department had tried to lay hands on him for… something. Movies were good. At least those made some kind of sense.

Lorne rose to his feet and set his empty can aside, moving to the closet. Ronon watched as the other man opened the door and retrieved a plastic bin from inside it. He returned to take a seat in the chair once more, resting the bin on the floor between them. "Becque loves horror movies. That's what we'll do."

Ronon was intrigued, and drained the last of his own beer as he watched Lorne remove the lid of the bin to reveal a decently sized DVD collection. He set the empty can on the table beside the other one and leaned forward to watch as the Major began to flip through the colorful boxes. "She does?"

"Oh yeah. She's the one who showed me Rose Red. I had nightmares for months. But what you need is something a little different. I should have…" Lorne set the stack aside and lifted another handful before he lifted one in triumph. "Ah. Here we go. This one. This is what you need."

Ronon reached out to accept the DVD, staring at the picture on the case for a moment before he snorted skeptically. "A doll?"

"Not just any doll, my friend. Chucky." Lorne reached out and tapped the image of the knife-wielding doll on the cover. "Child's play. It's an old movie, but one of her favorites actually. I was saving the DVD for her birthday, but you should use it."

Ronon held the DVD for a moment, still not understanding. "It's a kids movie."

Lorne looked outright offended. "What? No. It's not. I promise. It's A grade, nightmare inducing, shit your pants horror. I bet it scares even you."

Somehow he doubted that a doll with a knife could scare anyone. The doubt he was feeling must have shown on his face before Lorne rolled his eyes and reached out to take the DVD from him. "Okay. I'll make this easy for you. Be in the room where we have dinner, tomorrow night. 9pm sharp. I'll take care of everything else."

Ronon stared at the DVD in Lorne's hands and then at Lorne before rising to his feet. He could have just agreed, but was compelled to say something, anything, before this spun even further out of control. "I don't think-"

"Exactly. You don't have to. There's a very important Earth dating tradition at play here, Ronon. And it's one of the best courtship rituals my people have." Lorne reached out and gripped his shoulder. "You've seen it at movie night."

"Seen what?" Ronon growled out the words, his patience running thing. He reached out to snatch the DVD from Lorne's hand. "How can a kid's movie be a part of courtship?"

Lorne stared at him in open disbelief. "Ronon. Scary movies and dating are like… it's a rite of passage. You play the movie and your girl gets scared and what does a woman do when she gets scared during a movie?"

Obviously, the Major was trying to lead him somewhere, but all Ronon could think of was how dumb this whole thing was turning out to be. This was Lorne's sage advice? The other man was still looking at him, expecting an answer. Ronon frowned and tried his best not to let his irritation show. "Turn it off?"

"NO!" To his surprise, Lorne reached out to snatch the DVD back and actually batted him on the back of the head with it. "She curls up into you, man. You put your arm around her and you kiss her. It's a classic 's Earth dating 101."

"What?" Ronon actually growled out the words. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You cannot be serious."

Lorne closed his eyes for a moment and drew in a breath, as if trying to calm himself. "You came to me. And you have to trust me. Just… will you do that?"

Ronon stared toward the DVD case again. He bared his teeth in annoyance for a moment before he growled out the words. "If you're fucking with me…"

"I wouldn't do that. I like having a pulse, thanks." Lorne shot back without missing a beat. "I'll invite a few other people, we'll make it a group activity. She won't suspect. You just sit next to her and let nature take its course. I promise you. This is legit. High grade date material. I swear, man."

"Sounds more like high grade bullshit." Ronon grumbled, knowing the moment that Lorne knew he won from the grin that rose to the other man's lips. Ronon lifted a hand and jabbed at the DVD. "If you make a fool of me, I will break your face."

Lorne grinned more broadly. "Like I said. I will be the best wingman you could ever want."

Ronon sighed heavily. "What the hell is a wingman?"