Ronon was pleased when the door to Grace's quarters slid open. She hadn't removed him from the access list and she hadn't locked him out from the inside. Inside the room was dark, but he could make out a Grace shaped lump in the small bed. He approached quietly, crouching beside the bed to gently reach out and touch her on the shoulder. "Gracie?"
She gave a sleepy mumble and brilliantly hued blue eyes flicked open. Her gaze was unfocused for a split second before she bolted upright. "Shit! I fell asleep?"
As she reached for the lamp beside her bed and switched it on, the room was flooded with light. Ronon blinked rapidly and once his eyes had adjusted, he studied her carefully. The tightness in his chest eased a little when he saw that she wasn't as pale as she had been before. "Are you hungry?
Grace pushed herself up in the bed, her gaze dropping to the plate he held in his hand. She exhaled for a moment, her voice still a little sleepy. "Starving actually."
Ronon rose to take a seat on the edge of the bed, surrendering the plate and flatware to her, then leaning to place the bottle of water he'd brought on the nightstand. "How are you feeling?"
She didn't answer him at first, instead taking too long to peel back the plastic wrap covering the plate. When she finally did speak, her voice was tired. "I'm fine. Cindy said it was dehydration. She gave me some fluids."
"Dehydration?" Ronon arched a skeptical brow. "That's all?"
Her eyes were locked to the plate as she cut into the meat. He waited as patiently as he could, until she was ready to answer him. After she'd chewed and swallowed, she finally lifted her eyes to his face. There was a trace of fear in her vivid eyes. Her voice was low and oddly vulnerable. "I'm sorry."
Ronon held her gaze, but remained silent. She must have seen the confusion on his face because she continued. "That last night we…" Understanding dawned and he nodded slowly to encourage her to continue. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I heard what you said to Teyla and even though I knew it was the truth, it still hurt. But I shouldn't have taken my feelings out on you. You were just being honest, Ronon. You've never lied to me about what this is to you. And I-"
"Don't." He interrupted her firmly. For some strange reason, relief flooded him. He could work with this. He understood hurt. Ronon scooted a bit closer, reaching out to settle a hand on her knee. "I should have been more…" He lifted his other hand, pinching the bridge of his nose as he struggled for the words. "I guess more aware, sensitive, whatever you want to call it. We got thrown into this and it's going to take time to find our equilibrium."
Her eyes widened at his use of the words. "Equilibrium?" She repeated skeptically. "You've been talking to McKay again, haven't you?"
Ronon snorted. "McKay isn't the only one that knows the big words." A reluctant smile played at her lips. He continued cautiously. "It wasn't just a dream, Grace. I guess you could call it more of a wish. Those things I said? Those were the things that I want for me, for you, for us, in an ideal world."
She pressed her lips together, but remained quiet, simply listening as he struggled to put to words emotions that he could barely even identify. And so he forged on haltingly. "I know it's not going to happen. I most likely won't survive this war. There won't be a home on Sateda or anywhere with my people for us because there are so few of us left. There's a few hundred on Manaria, on Belkan, and a few other planets, but it would take generations to rebuild. Even then, it won't be on Sateda. The truth is that my people are gone, my culture is gone."
His heart ached at speaking those words, but still Grace didn't interrupt him. "Even if my people were to band together to rebuild, right now, the Wraith are still a threat. The Makanesh were still trying to pick us off. If we took the risk of returning to my people, settling there, it would be a stupid risk."
"You know it's driving me slowly insane that I still haven't figured that one out. Why they did it, or tried to do it." Her low, gentle voice was a balm to his jangled nerves.
Ronon shrugged. "I know it is. That's not even something I am worried about. My point is that as much as I'd love to leave Atlantis with you and go start a life and a family with you among my people, I can't. Not yet. It's too dangerous. We can't be that yet. And I can't lie to you about it. I respect you too much. I do care about you, Grace. Deeply. The best I can give you is my loyalty and the chance to build whatever kind of life we can together here. Our marriage. A family even, when you decide you want one."
"When I decide?" Her brow lifted, her voice sharpening. "Why would that be my decision? It doesn't sound like you really think that's a good idea."
"It doesn't matter what I think." He said honestly, bluntly. "But it's not my decision."
Grace lifted a hand, her gaze darkening. "I think we're having one of those cultural differences again. Why don't you explain to me why you think that."
Ronon frowned faintly. It was obvious, wasn't it? Or was it so different among her people? Vaguely he remembered the night of the holiday party and the painfully awkward conversation with Sheppard about the condom. Maybe the difference went deeper than he'd ever considered. "The woman takes all the risk, Grace. It's her body. She gets to decide when or if she's ready to have a child or start a family."
His wife's eyebrows were so high he thought they might permanently disappear into her hairline. "I'm sorry. What? What about the man's opinion?"
"Why would I get a say on what you want to do with your own body. That doesn't make any sense. Any Satedan man who marries has been very thoroughly educated on what it means and how serious it is." Ronon stressed the words quietly. "I knew when we got married that you would be the one making the decisions about that. And any decision you make on it, I'll respect."
The disbelief in her voice was clear. "But you have an opinion on it."
He shook his head emphatically. "Yeah, of course. But my opinion doesn't matter when it's you taking all the risks."
"But I want to know. So let's assume you're willing to do it the way my people do. We'd be having a discussion about your priorities and your choice. Where I come from, it should be a mutual, conscious decision to start a family." The genuine frustration in her voice drew him up short.
Ronon's frown deepened and he eyed her cautiously. "You're serious. You really want me to weigh in on this? Right now?"
"Right now." She clarified firmly.
He cleared his throat, lifting a hand to run it over his head, tugging at the dreads at the base of his neck. It was uncomfortable and it felt selfish. He hesitated, his eyes darting from her face to the plate of untouched food. "I want to know what you want you think."
"Just answer the damn question, Ronon. If you had a vote about wanting to start a family, what would it be? Surely a Satedan woman would at least ask your opinion about wanting kids." There was clear exasperation creeping into her voice now.
"No. She wouldn't. If a man's married her, he's already given his consent to fatherhood." Why was it so hard for her to grasp that this simply wasn't his choice. Period. Finally he sighed, giving her the answer she was so keen on pulling from him. "If you really want to know what I think, then my answer is no. I think having children right now is a foolish thing to do. Every time I step through the gate, I know I may not come back. And even worse, I know you may not come back. And if we had a kid, it would not only eat at me, but it would split my focus."
"So you don't want children." There wasn't anger in his voice. Ronon's eyes flew to her face and he expected to see some kind of recrimination there. Instead he only saw a strange kind of sadness.
He swallowed hard, groping for the words. "No. I'm sorry. Not right now. But, if you decided-"
Grace held up a hand. "Ronon, stop talking." Obediently, he closed his mouth and waited for her to continue. "I'm not angry with you for answering a question honestly. I get it. I really do. Raising a family on Atlantis or Pegasus in the middle of a war is a really bad I am definitely not ready for children. I'm not sure if I ever will be. I completely agree with you."
Unexpectedly, disappointment flooded him. "You do?" Ronon pressed his lips together in a thin line. If she'd already come to that decision, what had it mattered what his opinion was? Her people were so strange sometimes. He forced a smile to his lips. "So we're good?"
"Yes." She answered softly. "We're good."
Ronon nodded once more. "Does this mean you'll come back to my room where you belong?"
He watched her fingers tighten on the fork. Her voice was tight. "What would be the point of that?"
"You're my wife. You belong with me, in my bed, in our room. Our marriage may not be ideal but you do have to be present if you want to help make it work." He was so damn tired of the emotional bullshit. There was an edge to his voice as he ground out the words. "Or do we have to analyze that too?"
He wanted to kick himself the second he saw her flinch. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose once more. "I'm sorry. I just… I miss you." He admitted a little more gently.
This time, there was surprise on her pretty face. "You do?" Her voice held an unexpected tremor.
"Yeah." Ronon answered simply. "I do. So eat your food and then come back with me."
He watched as she dragged in a breath. A moment later, a sad smile tipped up the corners of her lips. The shadowed expression lasted only a moment before she silently lifted her fork and began to eat.
Ronon's words ricocheted around her brain. How had she let herself come to be here again? Limbs tangled with his in his narrow bed, a mattress on the floor in a nest of pillows and furs, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as his chest rose. She'd fallen so easily into sleep next to him, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It felt so damn right, and yet it couldn't last.
Grace shifted, attempting to draw out her leg that was captured between his. His arms tightened around her, holding her tightly to his chest. They'd done nothing but sleep and for some reason, that broke her heart even more. It wasn't just sex. She knew now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Ronon believed this marriage was the real thing. He intended to make it work, no matter the complications involved, even if it lacked the most basic thing required for marriage, which was for the other person to believe it was real as well.
"Grace?" His voice was a sleepy whisper of concern and damn if that one little thing didn't send her heart and her libido straight into overdrive. "You okay?" Despite the disaster this was, she couldn't help herself when she tipped her face up to his and brushed a featherlight kiss over his lips. He gave another of those rumbles, this one a contented sound as his hand slid up to cup her face.
His broad chest vibrated with a low rumble of contentment, his thumb stroking over the apple of her cheek. The kiss lingered, a gentle caress that was at once reassuring and calming. When he pulled back, she found herself gazing into mossy green eyes that blinked at her slowly. Neither of them spoke and a moment later, he slid his arm around her waist once more, tugging her closer and pressing another of those interminably gentle kisses to her forehead. "Go back to sleep."
And somehow, inexplicably, she did. Despite the tumult, the guilt over what she intended to do, over her dishonesty in not telling him the truth, she was lulled back into sleep by the steady, even rhythm of his heartbeast within a few scant minutes.
When the alarm on her watch went off in the morning, she was alone. Groggily, she silenced it and lifted her head from the purple pillow, glancing around herself. There was no sign of Ronon, but the furs had been pulled up around her shoulders as he always did when he left earlier than she did. It was strange just how easily they'd fallen into a routine in the weeks they'd been seeing each other, if she could even call it that. He firmly called it a marriage and she firmly called it a huge mistake. Not that it mattered anymore.
She shifted, pulling her feet beneath her and wrapping the furs around her shoulders to ward off the chill. His room wasn't as barren as it had been the first time she'd been in it. There were small touches that declared he was claiming the space as his own. Drums, a painting, the books she'd given him still on the nightstand, the pages dog-eared with bits of paper sticking out of it.
The room even smelled like him now. Grace closed her eyes and lowered her face to the fur that kept her warm, inhaling deeply. God, she would miss that smell. When she opened her eyes again, a pang of sadness hit her. Against her better judgment, she loved this man. It was the one thing in her life she'd sworn never to do. Her parents' version of love had been toxic, and now, it was apparent that her own brand was just as devastating. Her entire plan for her life was gone and her choices were lessening by the hour.
Resolutely, Grace rose from the bed, letting the fur slip from her shoulders and with it, the only sense of peace she would likely ever have again. There was so much to do and so little time. New memories with Ronon to be made to carry with her after she was gone, things to learn about his people that would need to be passed on to the child she carried, answers to her questions about the Makanesh. So much to do, and no time to plan or explain. In two weeks she would be on the Daedalus headed back to Earth. When she was there, she would need to disappear.
The chances of Ronon ever coming to Earth were so slim as to be non-existent, but even so, she would need to find a new job, a place to blend in where she could protect what was now the most precious thing. Something even more precious than Atlantis, the Pegasus Galaxy, or the remaining Satedans. Grace raked a hand through her hair and turned for the door. It was time to get her life in order for the sake of her unexpected future. Time to set fantasy aside and live in reality.