When Grace was released from the infirmary, the last thing Ronon expected was for her to turn up at his door. But she hadn't talked. She'd simply stretched out next to him on his narrow mattress and laid quietly until she'd fallen asleep next to him. Ronon had seen the bruises on her back before Carson had banished him from the infirmary. Long, angry marks from where she'd been beaten with the heavy leather strap he'd seen on the ground near Ridak's body. Her face was marked too, one eye blackened and her cheek bruised from being hit. If she hadn't already killed Ridak for it, Ronon would have done it himself without hesitation. It was only with Carson's assurance that Grace would be fine that Ronon had let Teyla take him by the arm and lead him away.
As she laid on her stomach beside him, Ronon stretched out on his side, afraid to touch her. To do so would hurt and the last thing he wanted was to cause her more pain. Sleep was elusive though, and for the first time, he realized the anger and the fear he'd felt when her mission had gone badly wasn't just a knee jerk reaction to the possessiveness. Ronon wasn't sure when it had happened, but he'd come to care deeply for this woman.
"I can feel you staring." Her voice was soft and sleepy.
Ronon drew in a deep breath and expelled it without comment. He was afraid to even touch her. He reached out and rested a hand on her head, just about the only part of her that didn't seem to be bruised. Silently, he groped for the words, only to find the ones that were the least effective. "How do you feel?"
The thin shaft of light from the bathroom door he'd left cracked open offered some illumination. When she turned her head to peer at him, he was surprised to see the raw emotion in those glacier blue eyes. "Not so bad. Carson gave me something for the pain. But it's making me a little loopy, I think."
Relief filtered in, though the one question that Ronon wanted, needed an answer to was the one that he hesitated to ask. He licked his lips and slid his hand to her cheek. "Did he… I mean did they…" Fuck, this was hard. Grace didn't try to supply the words for him though and he tried again, this time taking a different approach. "Carson did a full exam?"
Her brow furrowed for a moment and then understanding of what he wasn't directly saying dawned. She shook her head. "He didn't touch me. Not like that anyway."
But the brutality of her killing of Ridak had been so unlike her that Ronon wasn't sure he believed her. He swallowed hard, and then shifted closer to her. "I only ask because you seemed to have a lot of anger when you killed him. I get that he beat you, but…"
Surprise flickered over her beautiful face and a sad smile ghosted over her lips. "I was angry, but it wasn't the beating. When he told me what they were… what he'd done…" She trailed off into silence and in the darkness, Ronon could see the sheen of tears that rose to her eyes.
He frowned, the sight of those unshed tears tugging at his heart. "Tell me."
"Ronon, it's so horrible. I couldn't…" She began and then bowed her head. A moment later, he found his arms full of a sobbing Grace. Gingerly, Ronon wrapped his arms around her, one hand settling on the back of her head and the other draped over her hips. What he wanted to do was hold her so very tightly that she felt safe again. But this was the best he could do without causing her more pain.
As the minutes passed, Ronon simply let her cry, powerless to do anything to make it better. He remembered all too well those first days in Atlantis when he'd been so full of rage and confusion that when the grief had finally surfaced, he'd bawled like a lad in the privacy of his locked quarters. More than once, he'd found himself on the floor of the shower, under the spray of the warm water, the salt from his own tears damn near paralyzing. The delayed reaction of trauma, or whatever Heightmeyer had called it during those damn, silent sessions he'd sat through without speaking a word.
Finally, after longer than he'd expected, those sobs subsided to sniffles. Ronon waited for her to lift her head to dare to speak the words. "Do you want to talk about it or would you rather we just stay like this?"
Her body relaxed a little at those words and he could feel her staring at him. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm so tired, Ronon."
He tightened his arms around her gently, holding her as firmly as he dared without causing her more pain. "Get some sleep. We'll talk when you're ready."
She sniffled softly, and in the darkness, he felt her lifting her face, brushing her lips over his lightly. "Thank you, Ronon." For some reason, that soft kiss was Ronon's undoing. He'd been worried for her, he'd been ready to slaughter anyone who stood in his way. She was strong in ways he hadn't counted on. Not just killing Ridak, but in bearing whatever had happened in the past. The brutality with which she'd killed the elder wasn't just the result of a beating. It was the violence of someone who had a score to settle. Ronon listened to Grace's soft breathing as it even out and she slipped into sleep once more. She would talk when she was ready, and if she was never ready… well, that was fine too. Ronon understood intimately what it was like to go through something you couldn't find the words to express. They had time.
Grace had woken in Ronon's bed alone. When she sat up, confused and more than a little groggy, she frowned. A moment later, the haze of sleep lifted full and she remembered finding her way to his quarters, stoned off her ass on whatever Beckett had given her for the pain. Instead of sending her away, Ronon had stepped aside and let her in when she'd turned up shortly before midnight. He'd held her as she'd wept, tears of grief for a people she'd never known, tears of grief for herself, for the things she'd put behind her long ago.
He hadn't pushed her to talk, he'd simply held her, wrapping her in his arms as he let her purge the emotions that had built up. It was like a valve had been opened and everything she'd been bottling up since she'd arrived in the city had come flooding out in one moment of weakness.
There was no sign of Ronon in the room. The clock on his bedside table showed that it was well past nine. He'd be in the training sessions he ran for with the military members of the expedition every morning after breakfast. He wouldn't be back for a while. Her back smarted, and her face ached. Stiffly, Grace rose unsteadily to her feet, grateful she hadn't embarrassed herself worse.
Things with Ronon were already complicated enough, and whatever the hell that had been the night before wasn't going to make figuring out what was happening any easier. By the time she made it to her quarters, she was moving a bit easier, though it hurt to draw a full breath. A hot shower and some breakfast and she was doing a little better. All she had to do was avoid Ronon until she had her head on straight. How hard could it be? It was a big city.
For the first half of the day, it wasn't so bad. She kept her head down and focused on completing the work she'd been behind on. After lunch came the mission report, recounting in brutal detail everything that had taken place. The beating, the killing, the threats, the Wraith, the power source. She didn't hold back, giving an exact account, complete with the story of the Makanesh were related to the Satedans, and what they'd done with the Satedan's they'd lured to their homeworld. Even as she typed the words, the sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach threatened to rise once more. By the time she closed her laptop lid, she was exhausted. It was after nine. She'd been working for nearly twelve straight hours without taking a break.
Only after turning off the lamp on her desk and making her way from the room did she realize that her feet had carried her down the corridor on the wrong floor. She'd made it all the way to the hallway where Ronon's quarters were without even realizing she was coming here. Grace tightened her hands into fists and closed her eyes. When had she come to think of him as a safe place? When had it turned from a crush to sex to… was it a relationship? Just when had she come to rely on him to meet any of her emotional needs? She'd given up on those kinds of things so long ago.
Grace swallowed hard and turned on heel, making her way back toward the stairs and up a flight, to her own room. Once inside, she reached out to engage the lock on the door. She wasn't about to risk Ronon showing up. And somehow, she knew he would. Even if he didn't plan to make her talk, he wouldn't hesitate to come looking for her when he'd had enough of her avoiding him. And right now, the last thing she needed was to lose herself in the muddled feelings that always seemed to follow in the man's wake. He wasn't her comfort. He wasn't her boyfriend. He was just a guy who she'd fucked a few times. Nothing more. Right?
Ronon trailed behind McKay and Sheppard as they made their way through the square on Segoria. He'd been here before, several months before on one of his first missions with the team after coming to Atlantis. It had been winter on the planet that time. This time, well into their spring, the main square was busy. People packed the place visiting market stalls and food vendors.
While it was pre-industrial, it wasn't as lacking in amenities as some places they'd been. Gas lamps lined the neat streets. Pavement, instead of dirt. Grass and trees that had been cultivated for aesthetics, rather than having simply grown over time. Segoria had all the markings of a thriving culture that would soon enter a cultural and economic turning point. All signs pointed to a planet on the brink of great achievements.
"They haven't seen Wraith in more than four generations." Teyla spoke quietly when she rejoined him where he had been leaning against a food cart, pastry in hand as he kept an eye on Sheppard and McKay.
It had been the same way on Sateda. His homeworld hadn't been culled in centuries before they were seen as a threat. It was the same thing here. He didn't answer Teyla as he pushed the last bite of pastry into his mouth, his eyes falling to the package in her hands. "What's that?"
Her eyes flicked to his face and she gave a smile. "It is a pair of Naraldian static gloves for Dr McKay. The fabric is resistant to small electrical charges. I recalled he expressed great interest in a pair a technician on the Genii homeworld used once."
Ronon's eyes lifted to meet hers before flicking to the package once more. "You bought McKay a gift. Why?"
Teyla's brow drew down. "Christmas is in a week, Ronon." A moment later, her brow smoothed out and she arched a brow. "Surely you've seen the decorations that have been going up around the city."
"Decorations?" Ronon frowned down at her as he folded his arms over his chest. "You mean the trees they've drowned in lights and sparkly shit? Yeah. Kind of hard to miss. I just kind of put it down to another of those weird things their people do. Like Halloween or Thanksgiving." He did enjoy Thanksgiving.
Understanding dawned in Teyla's eyes. "No one explained to you about Christmas. It is a very important holiday to them. Perhaps the most important. Though there are several variations of the same idea, it is quite a major one."
How many fucking holidays did these people need? There'd been half a dozen since he'd arrived in Atlantis. It seemed every time he was turning around, they were celebrating some bizarre ritual or other. Like dressing up as other people and setting gourds on fire as they'd done on Halloween. Or the Americans draping everything in red, white, and blue and playing band music while singing about bravery and freedom as they'd done a week after he arrived in the city. The food was good though. Every holiday seemed to have a special meal or treat. If this holiday had good food too, Ronon could learn to live with it. Maybe Grace would even cook for their little group again. Or even better, maybe just for him. A meal alone with his wife, just the two of them, would be nice. It was something they hadn't done before.
His mind started to drift, mouth watering as he considered the foods that might be in store for the next week. Teyla was staring at him in question. "You're not listening, are you?"
"No, I am not." He confirmed without hesitation. His gaze flicked to the package she held once more and he lifted a hand to point to it. "Do I need to get presents too?"
Teyla's brows flew up and a delighted smile crossed her face. "I believe both Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard are planning to include you in their gift-giving this year, so it might be appropriate."
Ronon frowned once more. "How many people do I need to get something for?"
"Usually those closest to you. It is best is the gift is special or significant in some way. I have come to learn that it is not the cost, but rather the intention or the thought that matters the most. Think of it like…" He watched as Teyla trailed off for a moment before she snapped her fingers. "You remember when we discussed the similarities between the summer solstice festival of my people and the… what is it called again?"
"The Turning Night?" Ronon supplied as understanding began to dawn. "It's like that?"
Teyla gave a pleased smile as she gestured to him. "Yes! It is very similar. The religious and cultural background is different, of course, but the concept is the same."
A vague sense of panic began to set in as Ronon lifted his head to scan the crowded square. "Shit." He stepped closer to Teyla, pinning her with a glare. "Why didn't you tell me they had a Turning Night?"
She blinked up at him, an expression of vague regret starting to rise in her pretty face. "I'm sorry, Ronon. I assumed that someone had explained. If I'd known, I would have said something."
Ronon blew out a breath and gritted his teeth, turning on heel. As he began to stalk away, he heard Teyla's voice rising behind him to call out the words. "Ronon, where are you going?"
He glanced back over his shoulder, snapping the words with no small amount of irritation. "Shopping!"
As it turned out, luck was on Grace's side. She managed to avoid Ronon for four days. Mostly because his team's missions had coincided with hers, both out at alternating times, back to back. For those four days, she told herself she didn't miss him. She had her own life, her own things to do. She was in Atlantis to do a job, nothing more. And by the time the morning of day five rolled around, she'd begun to feel a bit better. Absence didn't make the heart grow fonder. It helped strengthen her resolve. She'd spent too much time vacillating between being grief-stricken for him over what the Makanesh had done to the Satedan refugees and angry with him for not telling her straight out that he'd known they were alone when he'd fucked her that second time. By lunch time, the anger had almost won out.
She had just taken a bite of what passed for chicken tetrazzini in the mess hall when the sound of the chair across from her scraping over the floor dragged her attention from her tablet. She looked up to find Ronon depositing his tray onto the table. The anger… the damn anger that she'd been focusing on burned low for a moment and then, as he flashed her an easy grin, it evaporated as if it hadn't been there.
"Been a busy week." His voice was that same silken rumble that it always was, and a pulse of attraction zinged through her belly. "I've been looking for you, but it seems like everytime we get back, your team's just gone out. How are you feeling?"
He reached for his fork, strong fingers wielding it with that uncanny grace as he speared a piece of the grilled chicken and twirled it to gather up the pasta. Grace's eyes lingered on his hands and she recalled all too vividly the teasing strokes of those fingers over her body as he'd seduced her. And it had been a seduction. The first time, it had been for the mission. But the second, she now realized, had been for him, and maybe for her. And the bastard hadn't told her. She wasn't even angry, she now realized. She felt cheated and hurt. Instead of being focused on him, with no fear they were being watched, she had been robbed of the chance to truly enjoy him openly.
"Grace?" Ronon's voice came again as he waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. "You okay?"
She blinked rapidly and lifted her eyes to her face. "Yeah. I'm fine."
As his gaze flicked to her bruised face, he arched a brow. "Really? Doc cleared you to go off-world on day two?"
"It was just bruising. Hardly hurts at all now. And they were all routine missions to visit trading partners." She spoke a bit too quickly.
"If you say so." That edge of skepticism lingered in his voice for a moment before he shrugged and let the subject drop. "Sheppard mentioned a party on Christmas Eve."
Grace's brow furrowed. She'd forgotten all about Christmas. She glanced at her table and realized it was already December 22nd. There was a party. "Yeah, we have one every year."
Ronon nodded. "Teyla said we'll be doing a big meal for …" He paused, licking his lips. "I'm sorry, there's so many holidays for your people, I can't remember them all." She had to chuckle at that one. He wasn't wrong. He continued a moment later. "Anyway, she said we'd be doing the big meal a few days after, to combine all the holidays together since your people have so many of them."
"Yeah. Hanukkah, Boxing day, Christmas, New Years, Kwanzaa. We do one big meal and just blanket label it as a holiday meal. Why? You want to cook something? What about that Satedan roast thing you did. That was really good." She was babbling now. The roast had been good. Ronon's ability to cook had been a pleasant surprise, and he hadn't once mistaken the salt for the sugar.
He shook his head lightly. "No, but I was thinking we could go to the party together."
Grace froze, her fork suspended in mid-air. "Are you asking me on a date?"
It was Ronon's turn to frown. "Yeah. So?"
She should say no. She should tell him she knew the game he was playing. She could just lay it out for him, tell him that she knew the truth. Beneath the table her knee began to jiggle as she regarded him, pushing the bite of food into her mouth. Before she could stop herself, she nodded. "Okay."
"Yeah?" For some reason, he appeared mildly surprised, but his lips quirked into a smile a moment later. "I'll come by your quarters to pick you up at seven?"
Without even stopping to consider the consequences of what she was doing, Grace grinned. She couldn't say no. Why couldn't she say no? This man was infuriating on so many levels. Hard to read and harder to understand. She swallowed the bite she'd been chewing and reached for her water. "Sure. Seven. I'll be ready." Ronon's answering smile made her belly flutter once more. What the hell was she doing?