Yours.
Only you and yours.
The trio of words clambered around and around and around in Ronon's head, making him dizzy.
He didn't know how long he'd stood staring at his closed door before shock kicked in, and he dropped into the vacant chair beside him.
One night.
They'd shared one night.
One night where they'd both promised no regrets, no tomorrows. One night to think of what could be, what might be, then leave everything behind when the sun awoke. Possibilities and pleasures. One night he'd blocked out and worked to forget, pushed away and buried.
Now… now her confession left him knowing that with that one night, they'd done something he would never… could never… forget.
A life.
They'd created a life.
A life – that like so much else in this galaxy – was now lost. Gone forever. Gone and forgotten.
No.
Never forgotten.
He would never forget.
Only you.
He dropped his face into his hands. An ache twisted through his heart in a place he'd though long dead. Family. A family? His family. Something he'd never see again. Never have for his own. Never know. It had never been an option. Never been anything other than something someone else would have. Could have.
Her admission had broken a hole in a wall he'd built up through years of solitude. A wall he'd used to imprison any thoughts of future and family. A baby.
Pregnant.
She'd been pregnant.
A child?
No. Not just any child.
His child.
She'd carried… she'd lost…
And he'd let her go. Let her walk away. The pain she felt had been evident on her face. Pain and fear.
She carried the burden alone.
He stood abruptly.
He had to find her.
The city was dark beneath her feet. Sleeping peacefully under a speckled blanket of bright stars. Darkness held firm, but it would lose its grip soon with the rising sun. The golden lights that still shone brightly, reflected off the calm roll of the sea far below. From the angle of the tower roof she could see the entire city spread out below her like a giant star. It was beautiful. Peaceful.
It helped her think.
If she could see the city then she could remember where she was. And where she wasn't. This wasn't Earth. She wasn't just a woman with boy trouble. She wasn't a woman who could ill afford to let her emotions cloud her judgment. She could not just breakdown and cry. Hide in her room for days on end. Drown her sorrows in a bottle of rum. She couldn't afford to forget who she was. Where she was. Even for a little while. No, she needed to be on her game. To be clear of mind. In this place, this galaxy, weakness was not an option.
What happened could have happened to anyone – any woman – not just her. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't known. There was nothing she could have done any differently. It just wasn't meant to be.
The words and explanations she would have given any patient in a similar situation sounded hollow and wrong inside her head.
A baby.
Her hands automatically dropped to her lower abdomen.
She'd never thought of having a baby. We'll, she'd thought about it – what woman hadn't? But she'd never considered it ever being… well, a possibility. A truth. A real, live human being growing inside her. A child.
His child.
She'd done nothing but think about it for the past four days. Think about a future she wasn't going to see. With a man she could never have. A man who'd seen so much. Who deserved so much more. In a world that gave him nothing but pain she'd carried his hope, his future.
For seven weeks she'd carried his child.
Seven weeks.
And she hadn't had the slightest idea.
How could she – she of all people – not known?! How could she have not counted? Not tracked? She'd become so buried in her work, fighting to appear happy, fighting to appear normal, so lost in pretending, she hadn't noticed she'd missed her cycle. Birth control was never one hundred percent. She should know that. She should have known better. But she didn't. She hadn't.
And now… now it was too late.
A burn kicked up into her eyes and she shook her head, blinking furiously. She hadn't cried yet – she most certainly wasn't going to start now. She stared down at her toes, her stomach rolling as she angled her chin and peered over the edge, welcoming the distraction as she contemplated just how far up she was. She almost whistled, her heart skipping with the sharp drop. God that was a long way down. She let the fear of falling ride up through her veins. Fear helped her forget, and forgetting was good.
She crossed her arms against the chill that suddenly shivered across her skin and leaned back from the edge.
Heat scored her waist and she screamed, fearing the worst but instead of falling, she was yanked backwards against a solid chest and dragged roughly back to the center of the rooftop. Hands griped her waist and lifted her quickly over the railing on the central walkway, depositing her roughly onto the catwalk.
"Ronon." She gasped, her heart scattering beneath the adrenaline that rushed through her body. She staggered when he released his hold but he spun her around, his hand gripping her upper arm tightly.
"That is not the answer!" He growled, looming above her like a dark shadow, his fingers digging into her flesh. He pointed towards the edge where she'd been standing.
She clamped her hand over his, her voice stuttering while she pressed her palm over the back of his hand. She shook her head furiously, understanding what he must have thought. "Oh. I… No… No, Ronon… I wasn't going to… Good lord, no." She insisted. "I just… I was just… looking…"
"Looking." He growled.
She nodded furiously.
"And what if you'd… slipped?" He turned his head, his shadow dropping down around her, blocking out the faint glow cast from the lights above on the tower spire. She stared up into his face, seeing nothing through the darkness but his silhouette.
"I… wasn't really thinking about… I just…" She shook her head and let the explanation die.
A moment passed before he released her and stepped back, allowing the pale light to fall around her once again.
"What…" She shook her head, rubbing her upper arm. "What are you doing-"
"Looking for you." He answered before she could finish.
"For me?" Her brow furrowed as her mind shuffled through a stack of options. She could feel his emotions riding across the dark of night. Anger. Frustration. Confusion. She didn't need to see his face to know he was fighting – warring with himself. It was in the way he stood. His fists clenched. The wide stance. The set of his shoulders.
If he'd come to yell… to curse… to scream and shout, she'd let him. She had to let him. If it was all she could give him back, then she'd stand here and let him say it.
But he didn't speak.
He didn't move.
He just stood there, staring.
She hesitated. "Ronon?"
"Why?" He finally asked, the single word driving a nail through her heart.
She blinked and swallowed. "Why what?" She managed to croak out.
When he didn't answer, she chose from the questions beating their wings inside her own mind. The ones she herself had come up here to seek the answers to.
"Why did this happen? Why didn't I know? Why now? Why you? Why not Rodney? Why did I leave?" She shrugged with an exasperated sigh, averting her face and swiping a tear away with her fingertips. "Why did I… push you away?"
He stood silently, staring at her, unmoving.
"Because." She shook her head, swallowing down the urge to cry. Voicing the questions aloud brought her worry, her confusion, her fears, all bubbling to the surface. She fought to hide the emotions, the sadness, the what if's and what could have been, but they were too close to the top to be pushed away.
He was too close.
"Because." She repeated… her voice cracking. She clutched the base of her throat, willing her emotions to go back to where she'd locked them. But it was too late. He'd opened the door and she couldn't hold it back any more. Pain burst up and squeezed her heart. "Because I'm not strong enough." She shook her head, her voice a soft sob. "I'm not strong enough." She repeated, louder, tears falling freely.
She didn't care. She didn't care any more. She couldn't take it back. Could never take it back. Could never fix what she'd broken.
"I don't… I can't…" Unable to keep herself straight, she let the horror and sadness and pain and loss rip itself up through her abdomen. "I wasn't strong enough…" she shook her head, doubling over with the phantom pain. "I couldn't… even carry your child… seven weeks… I wasn't… Oh god, Ronon… I'm sorry, I'm sorry… I didn't know… I didn't know!"
The agony behind her words shattered any barrier he'd ever constructed around his heart like a piece of fragile glass. It blew apart, falling into a thousand tiny shards, slicing through him.
Her knees gave way, but this time he was there to catch her as she fell.
Shrinking in on herself, she cowered into a ball, knees to her chest, face buried, arms folding across her legs, fighting to make herself as small as possible. Sitting on the platform, he could do nothing but wrap himself around her – his legs, his arms, curling her in against him, protecting her, hiding her, sheltering her. Wracking sobs shook her body, bringing a sharp burn to his own eyes.
He held her tightly, waiting beneath the shifting sky as it moved slowly from its inky blackness into a lighter shade, shapes becoming visible as the night lost it's battle with the approaching dawn. Her sobs eventually lessened into sniffles, then calmed into a soft succession of hiccups.
"Ronon, I'm so, so sorry…" she sniffed, turning her head to the side.
"No." He shook his head, clearing his throat. "Don't."
"But…"
"No." He said firmly. "I will accept no apologies, Jennifer." He felt her stiffen and draw away, but he held her tightly, preventing her from moving anywhere. "Would you blame another for what happened?"
She sniffed, and shook her head.
"And I don't blame you."
"How can you not…"
"You are not thinking clearly." He argued softly. "It's understandable. But this is not – nor will it ever be – your fault."
"It feels like it is."
"Well, it's not."
"It hurts."
He tightened his arms around her, his chest aching with understanding. "I know." He placed his cheek against the top of her head. "I know."
"Can you ever forgive me?" She whispered, her voice catching.
"Jennifer." He shifted, angling his head down so he could see her face but she curled herself tighter, hiding. "There is nothing to forgive."
"But…"
"Enough." He ordered, giving her a sharp squeeze. "You are blaming yourself for something you had no control over."
"You don't know that…" She shook her head. "What if I'd-"
"What if you'd done everything right and it still happened?" He asked softly.
"I would have done everything…" She whispered, tightening her body further into a ball. "If I'd known… Anything."
Ronon swallowed against the understanding that he would have done just about anything himself… if he'd known. He nodded against the top of her head, finding no words that would even begin to explain… or comfort.
"I know…" She sniffed sadly. "I know in my head… but my heart…" Her head rocked slowly back and forth. "My heart… doesn't understand why. I didn't even know. How can something I didn't even know about… hurt… so much?"
He shook his head, feeling the twist in his own heart. "I don't know." He answered honestly.
"I can't… I can't stop thinking about it."
"I don't think anyone would expect you to."
"Even you?" She whispered, her body stilling.
"Even me."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this."
"Jennifer…" He warned softly.
"But I am…" She insisted.
"I know." He kissed the top of her head. "I know."
Under the faint lights of the tower beacon on the spire above, they sat it silence, each lost to their own thoughts, accompanied only by the distant sound of the ocean far below.
"I can't stop wondering…" She finally broke the stillness, releasing the grip on her legs and sagging against him.
"About?"
"If I hadn't pushed you away…"
"Yes, about that." He rested his chin on the top of her head, adjusting his arms with her new position. Half of him wanted the answer, and half of him wanted to go on being ignorant. What was that Earth saying? What you didn't know wouldn't hurt you?
No. That wasn't right.
He hadn't known about the baby, and somehow it hurt much more than he could have ever considered. Baby. Even the word sounded so strange and unfamiliar in his mind. He shook his head, breaking off the tangent when she spoke again.
"It's not what you think." She mumbled against his chest, her fingers twisting against the front of his shirt.
"And just what do I think?" He frowned, forgetting what he was supposed to be thinking about.
She held her breath, then let it out with a shrug. "I don't know." Her upper body jerked with a soft hiccup then she shook her head. "What… what do you think?"
He snorted softly, fighting his own confusion. "I think…" He paused, finding the first of his many questions. "You're afraid of something. Or… someone. And I think… you need to tell me who… and why."