Author's note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you like this chapter! May you all be well :o)
VII. Raped of Life
The house was small and opened to the street so that the noises of passerby and vehicles often kept them awake at night. But it was theirs. Ronon had spent nearly all he had on a down payment and Melena's salary had contributed to the rest of the mortgage each month. They moved in soon after they were wed, agreeing that this house was only a necessary yet temporary step to fulfilling their dream of buying a home in the farmlands where she could work as a local physician. But for a temporary step, it was beginning to look too permanent. With the settling into their mundane routines came the settling in of the press of everyday life. Gone were the playful, stolen moments. A bitterness began to seep in between them – a bitterness that, though it stemmed from the dissatisfactions of their lives, they aimed at each other.
Word of cullings on increasingly closer planets had dimmed the spirits of all Ronon met in those last months leading up to the attack. He had proven himself a more than capable soldier and his Task Master, Kell, had offered him a position that paid considerably more than the one he held previously. Ronon had taken the job without hesitation. He'd come home that night with excitement, their home in the farmlands seeming a little closer. He'd thought Melena would be happy with the news, but she didn't even smile. A bad day at the hospital combined with the dismal opinions being broadcast on the radio had already putt her in a pessimistic state of mind.
"And you just accepted?"
"Well... yeah... it's good money, Melena."
"It would have been nice if you'd at least talked to me about it first."
"What was there to talk about? He offered me a job with a better salary and I took it."
Melena shook her head in disbelief. "Ronon – we hardly see each other as it is with our schedules. I thought we agreed to try to make more room for each other, not less. This means I'll be lucky if you're home at night."
"Kell offered-"
"Kell? Kell offered you the job? That makes it worse – he's just trying to buy your loyalty."
He sat down at the table, trying to remain calm in the face of her annoyance, speaking slowly to remain composed. "It's only for a little while, and we need the money-"
"A 'little while'? Ro – we might not have a little while!"
He stuck his fingers in his knotted hair, the headache he'd been fighting all afternoon returning. "What are you talking about, Lena?"
"I mean we could be dead tomorrow for all we know! The Wraith are-"
"Not here," he finished for her.
She blinked at him in surprise. "Excuse me?"
"I just hate it when you start all of this talk about the Wraith. If they come we'll fight."
"I know that. And we've got a better chance of surviving a culling than any other world I know of."
He held out his hands in a pleading gesture. "...Then why are you bringing this up?"
Her face flushed and she grabbed her jacket, muttering the whole time about being so stupid as to marry a man younger than her, and on top of that, a soldier. She barked out that she was going for a walk and slammed the door behind her. At that moment he hated the husky squeak in her voice.
He rose from his chair to follow her but the memory of his mother's voice cautioning him on his impulse control problem stilled him. Melena left because she wanted to be alone, so why should he follow?
His mother had sat him down before he got married and let him know that he had to learn to make lasting decisions. She'd laughed as she relived all of his near-death experiences in his impulsive boyhood. She'd cautioned him that marriage wasn't something one could impulsively leap into and get away with. He'd reassured her and, at the time, believed every word of his convictions. But at times like these when he and Melena seemed to be operating on different frequencies, he worried over the truth of his mother's words. He and Melena had only dated for ten months, never having spent more than five consecutive days together until they were married. Had they rushed into things?
Melena was mad at him. He knew she was mad because he'd accepted a better job with better pay without consulting her, though he couldn't understand the logic. It was his life, after all, wasn't it? She was also mad because he'd now work longer hours. But longer hours meant more money which meant that their life in the farmlands was that much closer. He knew they were tense at the moment, but underneath all of the tension was worry over one another and their futures. Strain that emanated from love couldn't be a real problem. It had to be just a phase that would vanish once they reached their goal and each was free to carve out their own niche together. Why couldn't she see what a sacrifice now would mean for them in the long run?
He didn't like to think about it for very long because then he'd be faced with the anxious truth of the matter: he and Melena's dynamic had shifted. She was right; they felt the stress of their tight schedules and duties as it was already and his acceptance of this new position would make that even harder. But it was just temporary, a necessary evil to buy them their freedom. Wasn't it?
Freedom. He'd tried to give her that.
The Wraith came to Sateda sooner than anyone expected. His people had readied since the last culling two centuries ago, feeding their machine of war. He'd been ready to fight, ready to use some of the skills he had honed for so long. Ready to teach the Wraith a thing or two about whom they victimized. He used to say such things to Melena, teasingly utilizing flyboy charm. But when it really began to happen, when the Wraith really arrived and he witnessed the futility of the Satedan resistance, his illusions were incinerated.
Panic had coursed through him, rendering any of their recent troubles moot, the love that always fed the worry surging forward in his breast. All he could think of was finding some way for them to keep going, to get a second chance.
As a child his tenacity had driven his mother insane. As hard as she tried to keep him in line, he always wiggled his way out. Once he even knocked on the door to distract her while he snuck into the kitchen to steal a spoonful of cookie dough from the batch she was making. He had a strong will and believed that if you wanted something bad enough and were willing to fight for it, you'd get it. He'd used that philosophy from everything from fishing to the woman he married. And right now had to believe in himself and his power over his own fate, or else there was nothing left to do but despair and bemoan the end of a life not yet lived.
When the Wraith arrived, the first thing he had to do was get Melena as far from danger as possible, then he'd work out how he'd save his own butt.
Kell had told him that, for a price, he'd be willing to claim any personages as his staff, giving them a free ticket off the planet with him. When he'd said it, Ronon knew that he'd meant for Ronon to buy a place for himself. Ronon had written off the apparent insinuations of this offer with the fact that Kell was no longer a solider. He understood that the man's priorities had shifted to his family, just as Ronon's had shifted to Melena. She was the first person he thought of as the offer left Kell's lips, and he immediately began to work out how he could make enough money to secure her a place on Kell's ship.
He would stay behind and fight as long as he could while finding some way to escape. He couldn't leave his comrades behind. He couldn't leave good people like his family defenseless. There had to be a way out of this – there always was. When his mother had started to set the cookie dough bowl on the shelf where he couldn't reach, he'd climbed up the counter, using the cupboard handles as steps. There was always a way out.
He sold everything they had and bought Melena her freedom then watched as she threw it back in his face. She refused to go, feeling the same duty he did to aid those he could, and though he didn't like it, he could understand it. But her remaining on Sateda wasn't part of his plan. Why couldn't she just go? What was the point of staying on to help the wounded when everyone was going to die? Then again, what the point of him staying behind to fight the Wraith when he knew they'd be quickly overpowered?
She knew that his efforts to save her were an attempt to run, to get away from the coils of their society, just as his dream of living together in the farmlands free of the demands of others. But there came a time when you had to face reality. And stubborn as Ronon was, she had to make him see. She had to awaken roots in him, for she could see that his flighty tendencies were a source of much of their disquiet. He saw life as fluid, whereas she saw it as grounded. He always had to feel that they could escape. If he didn't like his position in the military then he'd work harder and rise in the ranks to a better station. If they didn't like their life in the city then they'd persevere only until they could escape to the country. If they didn't like being culled by the Wraith then they could find some way off the planet. He was always hoping, groping, assured in their power over their lives.
But there wasn't always an escape, and she needed security. His youthful flights of fancy and confidence that they could always just run off and start over again somewhere else struck her as naive and ignorant. She knew that when push came to shove he'd realize that his duties lay more heavily upon him than he thought, and that he'd fall back onto them. Even in his ideal life in the farmlands one was a slave to the seasons – as a farmer he would be shackled to the very land he found so freeing. She'd grown up with her hands in the dirt; he'd grown up planting vegetables in the hopes to show them off at a fair. She'd learned long ago that nature, like life, had its own will and would not gladly suffer those who were not willing to dig their heels in and work.
A large part of what had drawn her to Ronon was the fresh air about him. He was not like her and his impulsive whims and charm provided her with an escape from the labor of existing in her world. But when he was no longer an escape and they tried to compromise to make a home together, he didn't grow up as quickly as she'd hoped. She'd been trying to deal with the fact that the man she married was still vulnerably boyish and had yet to earn the jaded eyes through which she viewed life. She worried over the pain he would face when his innocent eyes were confronted with cruelty. But she couldn't protect him from that. That pain was a part of maturing and she knew he had to find his own two feet. It wasn't that she ever wanted him to stop dreaming, but rather that she wanted him to start living with her in a life where he needed no escapism.
She had to make him see that this world around him was life, and that there was no running away from their reality to hide in a wheat field. His volatile, somber behavior of late told her that he knew this, yet fought hard not to believe it.
The grim anxiety in his eyes as he pleaded with her to leave and his frustrated outburst over the futility of her decision to stay behind betrayed his fear over their lack of control of their lives and his need to confront destiny.
"There's not going to be any need for hospitals, Melena!" He gestured to the radio as it continued to broadcast the Chieftain's speech of Satedan can-do spirit. "That's just a bunch of words meant to make the people who don't get to leave think there's a chance for them."
She knew he was right, but couldn't escape her decision, knowing that if she left now she'd spend the rest of her life in guilt over the many she could have helped. There was a time when she'd looked forward to helping shape him into the man he was becoming – to accompanying him on his journey as he grew up. Yet at this moment she cursed any past impatience she had with his rate of maturity, for the look in his eyes told her that he was suddenly growing up excruciatingly fast.
He swallowed, trying hard to contain his fear, his voice dropping with quivering tones of urgency. "We shot down two ships that came through the 'gate. Two small ships. Do you really think that's all they're gonna send?"
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, shaking her head, hating that they'd been reduced to such desperation. "Of course not."
"Ships as big as our city have attacked other planets. No one that stays here is going to survive." He lowered his gaze, attempting to hide his pain.
She couldn't hold back tears any longer, feeling the full force of their differing personalities and the cracks she saw forming in him. His decision was as hard for her to accept as hers was for him. "Then why are you staying?"
He slowly met her gaze again, his green eyes hesitant. "I have no choice."
It was a lie and they both knew it. He'd made a decision to stay just as much as she had, and he'd made it for the same reason she had: duty. Her voice grew firm as she attempted to make him see what she had from the start – that it was also their duty to accept their reality and try to change it rather than run from it. "Yes you do!"
He ran a hand over his forehead and turned away, trying to hide from the truths of their obligations to the greater good, the truths that she had always seen so well. The action let her know that she was getting through and she crossed the room to him.
"You believe in this fight! You know that they'll eventually find us, no matter where we go. Our only hope is to show them that we're not worth the effort. To go feed on some other planet that won't fight back as hard as we will." He felt himself being lashed to the fate of the planet and tried to brush past her, his faltering faith in their escape leaving him with no sense of direction. She grabbed his arm. "Ronon!"
He locked eyes with her again and the next words she spoke would haunt him.
"You can't run forever."
Their gazes remained locked in a battle of wills that ended when the window light caught on a tear slipping down her cheek and he yanked her to him in a hug. They'd fought enough in the past few weeks to give them both doubts about their marriage as the glow of new love began to wear into something a bit more broken-in. But after each realized that the other was not leaving Sateda, and that these were probably their last hours alive, the little grudges and missteps of their married life lifted away, and they clung to each other in desperate forgiveness. They sat down on the bed and he held her to his chest as she sobbed, a few tears escaping his own eyes as he fought to find another solution, another way out of their situation, unable to acclimate to the finality of reality.
Yet when his squad was ordered to mobilize immediately, his stomach grew cold and he knew that their lives were tumbling out of their hands.
He dressed in his uniform and she in her white medical dress, symbols of their obligations to their people. They held each other for a long moment, unwilling to believe that this was really goodbye. Ronon kissed her on the lips then on her right temple, whispering, "I promised you forever. I'll come back for you."
She closed her eyes and nodded; his warm breath on her cheek a painful reminder of the risks they ran. Reluctantly releasing the locks of his hair that she clung to, she stepped back into the doorway and let him go.
Hours passed and rumors spread of the slaughter of the Satedan militia, feeding the lament and panic in the air. Ronon made his way to the hospital with a shattered innocence, heart bleeding from the massacre he'd witnessed, and yet attempting to cling to whatever reserves of fortitude remained and fight again. Kell had betrayed thousands to their deaths so that he may live. Melena was right – Kell was a criminal. He should have listened to her all along, but it was too late for that.
The senseless killing that clung to him and the appalling corruption of his trust left him jaded and determined. He had done his part. He had tried to hold the Wraith back and he had watched his best friend die – had felt the warmth of his blood stain his hands. He owed nothing more to a system that had left him wounded and violated. He felt no guilt in escaping this hell for the only allegiance he now owed was to Melena. He had to find her and run. They had to leave this festering hole of humanity aflame.
He searched the corridors of the hospital, desperation in his voice as he called for her. Her unbelieving face as she saw him tore his heart. She ran to him and for a moment, in her arms once more, all of the tear stains of betrayal lifted from his heart, and he felt the light of hope once more. They could do this – they could win against the Wraith by surviving. He reached out for her and took her hand, sure that she felt the press of doom as much as he and that she would not hesitate in leaving with him this time. But sometimes, no matter how much love binds, no matter the desperation, the fear of the unknown tomorrow and the nearness of today make for warring resolves. She would not leave.
She couldn't explain the need she felt among those she was treating so she pointed to an orphaned girl as an example of the people who needed her to stay. He held the child in his arms, pleading that relieving the one citation of her hesitance would be enough to sway her, but she still shook her head. "I can't."
The finality of her tear-filled eyes grounded him to where he stood. The limp girl in his arms separated two who once shared one dream. His throat burned. He couldn't accept her choice. Not now, not when they still had a chance. There was always a way out. Always.
But the wounded around him weighted her down, and she could no longer fly with him like the blackbirds they watched swoop over the golden fields. Because the wounded needed her. But I need you, too. "Melena..." he started to brokenly argue back that he needed her more than these people at death's door, but time seemed to slow as he caught sight of a Wraith weapon spiraling towards them. The child in his arms froze him so he breathed deep in a scream for Melena move, but was too late. For a sickeningly long moment he watched as his wife was engulfed by the gaseous flame of the explosion until the force of it knocked him over.
The rest was lost beyond recall, for he had had so many nightmares of the scene that he could no longer discern what really happened from the ghoulish laments of his dreams. Melena was dead, and he'd seen her charred hand and smelled her burnt hair and flesh. That was more than enough memory for him. He felt something vital inside rend in the brief glance he cast at her burnt form. He tried to vomit, but not having eaten in at least a day all he managed were a few dry heaves tinged with bile.
The little girl had been helped up by an able bodied patient, but both lost their footing when another wing of the building was hit and the structure shook. An evacuation alarm sounded and was soon competing with the screams of Wraith darts as they scoured the city. In a building they were sitting ducks and the Wraith abducted them immediately. Ronon hardly knew nor cared what was happening as he was placed in a cocoon. His entire being was consumed with the fire that had killed Melena.
He hadn't "lost" anything to the Wraith; what he loved had been taken from him in violent, power-lusting force bent on domination. He had been raped of his life.
When the Wraith attempted to feed from him he met its gaze, a part of him welcoming the pain it would bring as release from the tortures of his bleeding soul, and another part gleefully challenging the face of the previously faceless enemy who had gutted his life and his world. He didn't know why the Wraith stopped feeding on him, but it did. Before they made him into a Runner they took pleasure from torturing him. Yet what they didn't understand was that he was nearly numb from the torture he inflicted upon himself.
Please review!