Four Years Later
Grace blinked at her inbox, the name of the sender one she hadn't seen in months. For a moment, she simply stared at his name, convinced she was seeing things. It had been nearly four years since she'd quietly boarded the Daedalus and returned to Earth.
Lorne had come to Earth on leave three times since then, and each time they'd gotten together briefly. Each time she'd never gone into great detail about her life. She'd told him about the antiques bookstore she's opened after returning to New Orleans, the struggles of readjusting to a normal life, even the few abysmal tries at dating she'd attempted, only to have them all be unmitigated disasters. She even detailed the occasional consulting work she did for the Stargate program to bring in extra money when things got tight. But she'd never once told him about the most important detail.
Emails were the only real contact she had, one or two a month. Usually brief updates on her former colleagues, the expedition, even details on the war. But always, there was an update on Ronon, slyly tucked in the contents. Four years and she couldn't get the man out of her head. She saw his face in Anara's every damn day.
This email, however, wasn't the usual rambling stream of consciousness that she usually got. Instead, it contained only two cryptic sentences. "I couldn't stop him. I'm sorry. -E."
Attached to the email was a flight itinerary. Her eyes widened as she scanned the information it contained. Ronon was on Earth. Correction. Ronon was on Earth and currently inbound to New Orleans on a flight from fucking San Fransisco. With shaking hands, she reached out and slammed the lid of the laptop closed, reaching for her phone. She straightened from her place where she'd been leaning on the counter and opened her contacts, dialing Evan's cell number. If he was on Earth, he'd have it working.
The instant he picked up, she heard the trepidation in his voice. "Heyyyyyyy." He drew the word out in a drawl that was more fearful than casual.
Without greeting him, she blurted the words. "Tell me this is a joke, Lorne."
There was a moment of silence before he cleared his throat. "Surprise. I'm guessing that email didn't make it until I took my phone out of airplane mode."
"Surprise? Are you fucking kidding me?" Panic instantly set in as Grace headed for the door of the shop. For a moment, she was tempted to flip the lock and close early, but it was barely after 11 am and she desperately needed every customer she could get. She ran a hand through her hair, heart pounding. "He's with you?"
"Well, he's actually in the john right now. He's had three cups of coffee and a dozen beignets. That was the first thing he wanted when we landed for some reason. We're at Cafe Du Monde." Lorne's voice was now half-apologetic and half-amused.
Grace's eyes widened in horror. "You couldn't have called, emailed, texted or something sooner? I'm just finding this out now?"
"We had to cloak the city because it's currently occupying San Francisco Bay. And it turns out that the cloak also actively jams cell phone signals. Who knew?" Lorne's voice went up at the end.
She released a growl into the phone. "Do not try to be funny right now."
On the other end, Evan sighed and lowered his voice. "Look, I had no idea he was going to do this. He damn near died saving Earth. He actually did die for a few minutes. Long story. But when he was released from the infirmary, the first thing he did was limp his wounded ass up to Woolsey and put in a request for his PTO. He hasn't taken leave in four years. Apparently he's got months saved up and by the time I figured out what he was up to, Ronon already had a flight booked. Sheppard is busy helping Woolsey dealing with the paperwork that comes with blowing up a Wraith hive ship in the skies over Earth. McKay is swamped with repairs, and Teyla is, well I'm not sure what Teyla is doing. But as soon as he got clearance we were in a cab on the way to the airport. I'm sorry. I couldn't stop him and frankly I don't see why I should have."
Of course he didn't. He couldn't. She'd never been really honest with him. Grace scrubbed a hand over her face and exhaled. The panic had now morphed straight into dread. "Evan, please don't."
"You've avoided this for too long, Grace. You and he both have to deal with it. And the dying thing, that's changed something in him. He won't talk about it though. He needs this, for some reason." Lorne's voice was gentle but firm.
"You don't understand." She hated the fact that a plea had entered her voice.
There was a note of irritation in his voice now. "No. I don't. And as Ronon's told me, oh so colorfully, it's also none of my business. I'm only here because the Air Force doesn't want him wandering alone. It's too late. We're here, and Ronon's heading back to the table, so I gotta go. We'll be there in ten minutes. Less probably, because people tend to part for Ronon. Most likely because he looks like a pissed off yeti when he's in a crowd. Makes him grumpy. See you soon, Gracie."
The line beeped and then went dead, signaling that her friend and former commanding officer had ended the call. She cursed and pulled the phone from her ear. Grace closed her eyes and drew in a breath. This was happening too fast. Her day had started off so well. Anara had happily gone off to her preschool, excited about the day trip to the aquarium. But then at not quite 4 years old, she also got excited about goldfish crackers and dump trucks.
The latest project she had been assigned from Daniel Jackson meant that she would make rent on time this month, as an added bonus. Grace lowered the phone, shoulders slumping as she pushed it into her pocket. Money was always tight. A complicated pregnancy and Anara's premature birth had meant medical bills her insurance only covered a small portion of. She'd come through, but Grace's savings had been nearly wiped out. Between doctors and therapists and the cost of the private preschool, making ends meet was always tight.
Grace headed for the back room of the shop that did double duty as a stock room and office. Mechanically setting up the coffeemaker to for a fresh pot, she gnawed at her lower lip. As she waited for the coffee to brew, she braced her hands on the counter and stared at the stuffed alligator toy. She reached out, stroking Clarence's soft head, muttering the words beneath her breath. "My life is about to explode. Again."
The options were few right now. She could lock the store, but knowing Lorne, he'd help Ronon just break in. She could run. She could just grab her keys and head for the car, stop and get Anara from the aquarium and just fucking drive. Fuck the coffee. Grace grabbed Clarence by the snout and pulled out her keys with the other hand. That's what she would do.
She headed for the back door, her daughter's favorite stuffed animal in hand. She'd barely reached for the knob when strong fingers closed around her wrist, stopping her dead in her tracks. Her heart stopped when she heard the soft, strong voice. "Grace, don't."
How long had she been staring at the coffee pot? She closed her eyes against the tears and the panic to address her friend. "You don't understand." It was all she could come up with.
Lorne stepped forward, pulling her into a tight hug. "You're right. I don't." It was the first embrace in years where she felt safe, like she wasn't alone in the world. She buried her face in his chest, drawing in slow, deep breaths. If Evan was here, hugging her, that meant Ronon was just on the other side of the closed door. Lorne's voice was more of a vibration than an actual sound as he rubbed her back. "It's not for me to understand, but it is time to stop running. This isn't about you, it's about Ronon. Please do this."
She inhaled slowly and nodded against his chest. A moment later, his arms slid from around her and he gripped her shoulders gently. "Deep breaths. It's going to be fine."
"It was really that bad?" She breathed out the words, her panic beginning to abate. "He… he really died?"
"Yeah. A Wraith brought him back to interrogate him. That's the only reason he's alive, Grace. It kind of fucked him up. He needs this." Lorne's gaze was serious, his voice firm. "Just one conversation. Okay?"
"One conversation?" Her gaze darted to the closed door. "That's all he wants?"
Lorne dropped his hands and shrugged. "I really don't know what he wants. But he wouldn't be so set on seeing you if it weren't important to him. One conversation and then, if you really don't want to see him again, I'll drag his ass back to the airport."
Grace swallowed hard and nodded, lifting a hand to wipe her face. "Okay. One conversation." One short encounter and then Ronon would go back to his fight and she'd go back to hers. He never even needed to know. If she could keep her mouth shut, everything would be fine. Closure for them both. She could do that.
Evan nodded. "I'm going to get a drink at the bar next door, give you two some privacy."
He stepped back and opened the door, giving her an encouraging smile. "You've got this."
No. No she did not. Her carefully built world was spinning out of control and tilted on its axis to boot. She schooled her expression and braced herself, moving to follow him. He was already gone, the front door of the shop closing behind him. And there, leaning on the front counter, thumbing through a copy of The Stand was the man she'd never expected to see again.
She stared at his profile, her heart pounding. The years had changed him in subtle ways. His dreads were thicker, pulled back off his face with an elastic band. His goatee had been neatly trimmed. His long, lanky body had filled out, become even more muscular. Good nutrition, maybe. Or just years spent chasing and killing the Wraith on that damned personal mission of his. He was alive though, and here in her shop. And now staring at her without speaking.
Somehow, he'd returned the book to the stack, straightened, and was studying her silently. His expression was stony as he watched her. God, he was even more beautiful. Her fingers itched with the memory of what his whiskers had felt like beneath their tips. Suddenly, he scrubbed a hand over his face, exhaling harshly. When he folded his arms over his chest, she saw that stony expression drop away to be replaced with something like relief. Had it really been years since she'd laid eyes on this man? For some reason, it felt like only hours since she'd kissed those lips, laid her head on his bare chest to listen to the sweet rhythm of his strong heartbeat. God, she'd never been as scared in her life as she was right now.
"I died." He stated simply, taking a step forward.
Grace nodded slowly. "I know." She pressed her lips together in a thin line. "I'm glad you're not still dead. How are you feeling?"
"Sore." He answered promptly. "The Wraith that brought me back sealed the wound, but I lost a lot of blood. Keller explained it with a bunch of words I still don't understand, but I'll be fine. I mean, I am fine. But mostly just… I get out of breath easy sometimes, but I'm…" He trailed off, as if realizing he was babbling. A moment later, he tried again. "You cut your hair."
On instinct, she lifted a hand to tuck a strand behind her ears. She'd cut her hair to just above her shoulders when Anara had pulled too hard, one too many times. "Yeah."
"It looks good. I like it." Once more, his tone betrayed the awkwardness of the moment. Then it came. He drew in a breath and sighed heavily, his shoulders tensing, as if preparing for some kind of backlash. "Can we talk?"
And just like that, her heart constricted. The Ronon she remembered had rarely looked lost. But now, he stood there, his arms folded as though to protect his battered body from a physical blow. It was hard to remember why it was so important to send him away. Grace drew in a breath and closed her eyes, summoning her daughter's face to mind. Loose curls the color of dark chocolate framing a face that was a feminine version of Ronon's, right down to the forest green eyes flecked with gold. When she opened them again, she shook her head. "We said everything we needed to say on that rooftop on Sateda."
His eyes closed for a moment, and he lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I was wrong then, Grace. I knew it as soon as I said it, but it was too late to take it back. I thought- I mean- I– fuck." He cursed as he cleared his throat and dropped both hands, tucking them into the pockets of the jeans he wore. "You left without saying goodbye. You owe me this."
And just like that, her spine stiffened. He was right. She did owe him answers, she owed him so much. But the risks were just so damn high. "You're right." She acknowledged, and for just a moment, she saw hope enter his eyes, and it was fucking heartbreaking. She wanted to hope. Instead, she chose the only route she could. A little girl with dark hair and green eyes. "But I said everything I needed to say in my letter."
"Two sentences?" He scoffed, his mouth dropping open in disbelief. "'I wish you nothing less than a life filled with love and happiness. I'm sorry.'"
The words she'd written on that paper were a knife straight to her gut as he quoted them back to her. He shook his head firmly. "It's not good enough, Grace. You came back to Atlantis with me. You shared my bed, gave me your body. You let me love you for two weeks and then you just left, like it was nothing. Two lines on a piece of paper aren't good enough."
Fuck. He was right. She hated it. "I'm sorry, Ronon. But you asked me to make the decision and I did."
"I was wrong." His voice cracked as he took another step forward. "Grace, I'm so sorry."
She held up her hands and took a step back. "No. It's too late for apologies. If you wanted me to stay, you had plenty of time before I left to tell me that. But you didn't. You said there wouldn't be a 'someday'. I weakened you. And even then it wouldn't have changed anything. I'd already put in my transfer request before I even asked you to take me to Sateda." The words tumbled out without her conscious permission.
He stopped cold, his beautiful eyes blinking in confusion at that admission. His mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to process them. A second later, he whispered the words, as stunned as if she'd struck him. "You were planning to leave all along?"
Grace pressed her lips in a thin line to keep the rest of her secrets from flowing out of her mouth. She drew in a slow breath and tried again. "I had to go."
"Why?" He snapped, and for the first time, she saw the ferocity he was truly capable of returning. "I needed you, Grace."
Because someone else needed her more and still did, but she couldn't say that, couldn't tell him that. "Ronon, it's in the past."
"No. It's very much in the present, Grace. I'm right here." He pointed to the ground beneath his feet as if to emphasize his words. "I've spent years trying to understand, trying to forget, trying to fucking move on and I can't. You wanted me to love you and I did. I do."
Tears stung at her eyes, threatening to fall despite herself. She could feel her resolve beginning to crumble. Fuck, she needed him to leave. She needed this to be over before she broke. "I don't know what you want to hear, Ronon. I don't understand why you came here."
"You're my wife and I want to take you home to Atlantis." As always, the man had a way of surprising her with his brutal honesty.
Grace responded on pure instinct. "Was your wife." Unconsciously, she rubbed her thumb over her left palm, a habit she'd only realized she'd had when Anara was born fighting for her life. "Not anymore. We both took the coward's way out. You by asking me to make the choice, and me by having already made it and not told you. But there's no undoing that."
This time he flinched, his face flushing red with anger. "I fucked up. I get it. I know. I'm sorry. But we have to fix it. I need you to come home. I need you."
What she wouldn't have given to hear those words at any point before she'd left. She would have broken, probably would have stayed despite the uphill battle they both faced then. But now? Anara deserved more than both of them. None of this was her daughter's fault. Grace bit her lower lip and prayed to whatever gods there really were that he heard her and understood what she was saying. "It's too late. And I won't change my mind."
He shook his head. "I don't believe you. And I'm not going anywhere, Grace."
"You need to leave." Her voice was unsteady, and his handsome face blurred as the tears gathered. "Leave now and don't come back."
Ronon's voice seemed to gather strength. "I'll leave the shop. But I'm staying in New Orleans for as long as I have to."
"Ronon, please just go. Go back to Atlantis. Go back to your life and left me keep living mine." There was a pleading note to her voice. She heard it and it was fucking humiliating, and her heart was already shattered in pieces beneath his boots.
"I have six months of leave saved up. I'll use every fucking minute of it. And when I run out, I'll fucking quit and camp out right outside this damn door until you let me back in, if that's what it takes." The threat in his voice was bare, and a chill went down Grace's spine. "We're at the Le Pavillon, when you come to your senses and decide to actually talk, that's where I'll be."
"Goodbye, Ronon." Grace turned to head back to the work room, trembling the entire way. It wasn't until she heard the door close behind him that the tears began to fall.