Grace woke to the sound of soft snoring next to her. Her eyes flew open to find herself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. Her head was hurt and every part of her body ached. A moment later, it came back to her and her chest tightened. Ronon. Over her, inside her, doing his level best to break her as he'd promised to do. And she'd given as good as she'd gotten.
The gentle pressure of an arm across her belly and another of those soft snores drew her gaze to the sleeping man next to her. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips into a thin line. She'd come to confess and ended up having angry sex. Too many rounds if the discomfort between her thighs was anything to go by. She covered her eyes with one hand and fought to calm her racing heart. Already the first tendrils of light were peeking through the window, a signal of the coming dawn.
She lowered her hand and stared up at the crown molding as she gritted her teeth. She had to get out of here. Already, she was going to have to explain to Lorne why she'd left to talk and hadn't come back. Carefully, she gripped Ronon's arm and lifted it. Instead of sleeping through it as she'd hoped, he gave a sleepy mumble and tightened his grip. "Where are you going?"
Fuck, she'd forgotten how his morning voice had affected her. Deep and gravelly. Even now, in the face of impending doom, it sent a straight to her core. She ached for him, even as she ached because of him, in so many ways. When she turned her head, his eyes were open, staring at her curiously. She swallowed hard and spoke quietly. "I need to go. I have to go home and get ready for work."
"Take the day off." He stated promptly and then released her, turning to his back and stretching. Instead of going back to sleep, he reached back to brace his hands on the headboard, pushing his long frame downward and groaning. "Ah. That feels good." When he relaxed, he turned his eyes to her. "We need to talk anyway."
A cold chill ran through her at those words. She wasn't ready for this. She would never be ready. Grace pushed herself into a seated position, scanning the floor for her jeans. Spying them on the floor, she wrapped the sheet around herself and slipped from the bed. She could feel Ronon's eyes on her as he shifted, propping the pillows against the tufted headboard. When she glanced back at him, he was sitting, one knee propped up, naked as the day he was born and not even seeming to notice. She pulled on her panties, tearing her eyes from his form. He seemed only to get so much hotter as time went on. What in the hell was he doing interested in a woman like her anyway? She was nothing special, she never had been, and yet as she shimmied into her jeans beneath the knotted sheet, he stared at her in unabashed interest. Finally, she sighed and spoke the one word she knew she'd regret the answer to, no matter what that answer was. "What?"
"We have to decide things, Grace." His voice was relaxed, no longer holding even a trace of anger.
"What things?" She fumbled with the button on her jeans and then searched the floor for her bra and tank. Her bra was unharmed, but her shirt was ruined.
Ronon leaned forward, bracing on elbow on his knees, tone matter-of-fact. "Where we're going to live, for a start."
Grace paused, twisting to look at him over her shoulder from where she'd turned her back to him as she shed the sheet and pulled on her bra. "What?"
"Are you coming back to Atlantis or do I need to give the SGC my resignation?" He said it so earnestly, as if it were a given. Grace froze, fingers still on the hook of her bra.
She stared at him, turning to face him fully as she forced herself to finish her self-assigned task of getting the hell out of Dodge. He was watching her expectantly when she made her way toward the open duffel that sat on a luggage rack. He owed her a shirt. Resolutely, she reached in, sifting through the clothing to pull out a soft gray t-shirt. She slipped it on over her head, willing her voice to be level. "My job is here. My life is here."
"You also had a job on Atlantis. And a life, with me. And those things are still waiting for you. Lorne said he'd have you back on his team in a heartbeat." He countered. "And considering that I literally died saving your planet, I bet it's safe to say that if I wanted you back in the city, Woolsey would make it happen."
"I can't." She said flatly as she fished out a pair of Ronon's socks and moved to take a seat in the chair by the table that still bore the liquor bottles from the night before. "I won't."
He sighed. "Then I'll use it as leverage to move here. I can go back to Atlantis and pack and say good-bye. I'd be back here in a day, two at the most. Teal'c offered to help me with the process of-"
"No." Grace cut him off as she crammed her foot into one of his socks.
Ronon frowned. "Look, we don't have to decide now. I have plenty of leave. We can take our time to really talk things through before we decide. We could even talk to-"
"No." She repeated herself. "You don't get to do that, Ronon. You don't get to start planning my future."
He rose from the bed as she shoved her feet into her shoes, coming to stand before her. "Our future, Grace."
She shook her head. "There is no us, Ronon."
His frown deepened and his tone took on a cautious note. "How can you say that? Last night proved that we belong together. You can't deny that."
"We were drunk. We were angry. That's it. There's no future here, Ronon." It took everything in her not to crumble. After all of it, he still wanted her. But he wouldn't if he knew the horrible thing she'd done in the name of protecting him and Anara both.
He reached for the sheet, knotting it around his waist. He crouched in front of her, fingers closing around her wrists to gently still her hands as she tied her shoes. "Grace. This isn't like you."
She shook her head. "I shouldn't have come here. This was a mistake." Tears stung at her eyes and she tugged at her hands.
Ronon's grip tightened, refusing to let her go. His voice hardened marginally. "Then why did you?"
"Because I had no choice." Grace snapped the words and rose to her feet, jerking her hands free. "You need to leave, Ronon. Go back to Atlantis. Go back to Pegasus."
He stood, his hand reaching out to grip her by the shoulders. "A'ko, I don't understand." Ronon's voice was more hurt and confused than angry now. "Why won't you just talk to me?"
She shook him off as she reached for her purse, rummaging for her car keys. The tears that threatened to fall blurred her vision. Blindly, she turned to face him. "It was never about you, Ronon. Okay? I left Atlantis because I had no choice."
"I know it seemed like I didn't give you one, and I'm sorry. Grace, I'm so sorry." He stepped into her space, his hands coming to settle at her waist, his voice pleading. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. I'm here now and I'm not leaving. I'm going to fight for us."
She settled her hands on his chest, wanting nothing more than to take the chance, but as she stared up at the same eyes that were reflected at her every single day, set in a tiny face, she knew she couldn't. She had to take the cowards way out. "This is one fight you can't win, Ronon." Grace choked out the words as she raised a hand to touch his face.
"You love me." Ronon's voice was quiet and certain. "I know you do. I saw it last night. That's worth fighting for. The only thing worth fighting for anymore. Help me fight for us."
Her heart was breaking all over again as she rose on her toes and kissed him. It was a kiss good-bye, the last she'd ever give him. When she retreated, he rested his forehead against hers, repeating himself. "You love me, Grace."
"But there's someone else I love more." It was the truth, the only truth that mattered, and the only truth she could give him. "I'm sorry."
She drew away and reached for the door handle, willing herself not to see the mask of confusion and burgeoning anger that began to creep onto his face. His voice was flat. "There's someone else."
Grace drew in a deep breath, heart shattering as she drew the door open. "Yes." She slipped out, leaving him staring behind her. It wasn't until she was pressing the button on the elevator that she heard the bellow of rage that came from behind the closed door.
Ronon pushed the sunglasses higher up on his nose as he lifted the beer to his lips. It was only after the noise complaint brought to him by the hotel manager that he'd emerged from his room. His head still ached despite the ibuprofen and the hot shower. His mind spun with her final words. There was someone else. Someone else she loved.
Then why had she stayed? The night had not been a mistake, contrary to her words. His wife had been with another man, someone who had managed to capture her heart. She loved the other man more. More. Ronon closed his eyes behind the sunglasses and drained the rest of the beer, signaling to the waiter for another. It was only his third and he was still disturbingly sober.
"What the fuck happened last night?" The intruding voice was accompanied by the scrape of the metal chair over the concrete of the sidewalk.
Ronon drew in a slow breath and opened his eyes, leveling Lorne with a glare, though he knew it was ineffective behind the shades. He answered with a growl and directed his attention to the throng of people on the sidewalk last night. How was he supposed to answer that? Was he supposed to admit that he'd been made a cuckold? What did he really have left to lose? "We fucked." He tossed the words at Lorne, hoping it would be enough to embarrass the man into leaving him alone. "Lots."
Unfortunately, Lorne didn't seem deterred. "Okay. And that doesn't explain why Grace came home this morning in tears."
Surprise filtered into Ronon. For a moment he forgot to be angry. "How do you know that?"
"Because I was there, man. I spent the night on her couch when she never came back. She told me she was going to talk to you and she'd be back in an hour or two, then never came home." Lorne watched as the server set Ronon's beer on the table. He signaled to the bottle, gaze flicking to the young man. "I'll take one of those and two shrimp po' boys. With fries."
As the server nodded, Lorne redirected his attention to Ronon, who now glowered at him. Suspicion began to rise in him. "Do you often spend time at my wife's home when you're on leave?" Was it Lorne? Was the man who'd become a friend over the past few years the one fucking his wife?
"No." Lorne answered promptly. "I'd never even been there until yesterday evening when I went to talk some sense into her."
Ronon gave a terse nod. Lorne was honest to his core, and he felt a little foolish for even suspecting him. He reached for his beer and took a long drink. The other man sighed, pushing his own sunglasses up to rest on top of his head. "Look. I'm trying to help you here, Ronon, but you have to help me help you. Did you two talk at all?"
"Yep." Ronon ground his teeth, setting the bottle down and picking at the label. "I don't want to talk about it."
Evan gave a growl as he lowered his voice. "Cause you're doing such a great job on your own?" At Ronon's glare, he arched a brow, refusing to back down. "Goddamn. I've never known two more stubborn people in my life."
The truth in those words stung. Ronon glanced over toward his friend, blinking slowly. Lorne was right. He was fucking this up all over the place. Now, with that morning's revelations, he had no idea what to do. He was angry, hurt, confused. But somehow, the words wouldn't come. Instead, he drew in a breath and settled on the most succinct summation of his feelings he could come up with. "She betrayed me."
Lorne pinched the bridge of his nose and released a frustrated sigh. "So she told you."
"You knew?" Ronon sat up straight in his seat, hissing the words. "You knew and you didn't tell me? How long have you known?"
"Christ. Calm down, man. I only found out when I went to her house. I told her if she didn't tell you, I would. I didn't give her a choice. We're friends, you and me. I wouldn't keep something that huge from you, Ronon." Lorne leaned forward, jabbing the table top with his index finger for emphasis. "I know you're angry, but I'm glad she told you. So what happens now?"
The emotions kept coming in waves. Ronon slumped back into his seat once more. "Dunno." He answered shortly as he returned to picking at the label on his beer.
The server returned, setting the plates of food in front of them, along with Lorne's own drink. Ronon sighed and straightened in his seat, waiting until the waiter had disappeared back inside to speak again. "She told me to leave, to go back. But I can't. It's just not an option."
"Of course it's not." Lorne agreed as he lifted his sandwich.
Ronon reached for his own food reluctantly. He wasn't even hungry, but he had done nothing but drink for almost a whole day. When he took a bite though, his stomach rumbled. The sandwich was delicious, sweet and spicy at the same time. He tore into it, suddenly ravenous.
Lorne's voice was pensive. "Maybe you could stay here a while. Y'know, once you and Grace come up with a schedule for sharing."
He paused, the sandwich halfway to his lips. Ronon swallowed and lowered it, his brow furrowing. "What the fuck? You can't be serious."
The other man frowned at him as he popped a fry into his mouth and spoke around it. "Sure. I mean, I know it's not ideal, but it's a start."
"That's sick. I can't share her, Lorne. I'm taking her home with me. Even if it means having to stun her and take her back that way. I'm not leaving here without her." Ronon shook his head firmly and took another bite of his sandwich.
Lorne's jaw dropped. "Wait. What? When did this escalate to kidnapping?"
Ronon shrugged. "I offered to move here, but she's too busy trying to run away from the conversation to actually consider it. She's leaving me no choice."
The other man sighed heavily. "You're just like a fucking bulldozer. You're thinking of extremes. This is something that requires finesse. It's delicate, Ronon. You have to think of her well-being. You can't just jerk her away from her home and expect that to be okay?"
"Watch me." Ronon snapped the words and took another bite, the anger rising again. "I'm not letting anyone take her from me. I'm not losing her twice."
His friend was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Ronon, I know this has been a shock to your system, but I'm gonna need you to really think this through. We're talking about someone who is incredibly vulnerable. An innocent."
"Oh, she's not innocent in this. I'm willing to fight for her, but she's by no means fucking innocent." Ronon was now struggling to keep his voice down as he dropped the sandwich back into the paper-lined plastic basket.
That drew Lorne up short. For a long moment, the other man just blinked at him. Finally, he spoke slowly. "I'm… are we talking about the same person?"
His ire seemed to pause as he stared at Lorne, confusion beginning to creep in. "I… we… what?"
"Who are you talking about?" Lorne paused, gripping a few fries, letting them hover.
Ronon's jaw tightened. "Grace. Who the fuck else? Who are you talking about?"
He saw the moment that something dawned on the other man, a kind of dread rising to his face. Ronon's stomach clenched at the sight of that expression. He spoke again, his voice holding a note of warning. "Lorne."
The other man lowered the fries back into the basket. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he spoke, as if stricken. "She promised me she was going to tell you."
"Evan." Ronon used his friend's first name for emphasis, leaning to growl the words quietly across the table. "Tell me what? What was she going to tell me?"
Lorne's quiet reply sent an icy chill down Ronon's spine. "About the girl. About Anara."