Harboring a Fugitive
Chapter 3
Crystal Ball
It is unwelcome. That's all it is.
"There you are," his voice is a gruff chuckle as he opens the door to the upper balcony. A few years before she leaned across the same balcony with Daniel, telling him to appreciate what they had discovered in Atlantis together, to be grateful they had answers to their most basic of questions instead of mulling on the fact that the ancients weren't going to help them destroy the Ori. It was a long shot anyway. What she often forgets is before she stood out where with him in the beautiful twinkling backdrop of the city at night, was that she stood out here alone first, slipping away from him, Mitchell, Sam, all the Atlantis goonies for a moment of peace and reflection. The city appeared endless and full of hopes, the air was clear and before she went to sleep that night she could still taste the salt from the ocean on her skin.
The wind is not so gentle now, a storm system has been formulating over the past week or so causing the tide to swirl in upheaval, the skies aren't pink or orange or a shimmery golden anymore, but white, then gray, then a dark gray, then black. Thunder roars in the distance and the wind picks up licking at the bare skin on her arms.
Her jacket doesn't fit anymore.
"Girl, you are going to catch one hell of a cold if you stay out here much longer." Tall and unwavering, he stands like a statue carved from marble, the kind Qetesh would have hoarded. Wind flaps his hair around and before long she feels the weight of his leather jacket drop against her shoulders. It's more like a leather robe on her. "What are you doing?"
"Thinking," sighs into the air, barely audible under the hiss of the wind.
"Thinking or brooding?" Folds his bare arms against the railing and stretches out, bows his back so he's level with her. "Because one of those things you can do in the privacy of your room."
"Brooding," she clarifies with a weak and tired smile. It's been a hectic few months. The discovery of a possible religion connecting the facets of the Wraith and the Ori has been causing her and McKay, whom she has no time to bicker with anymore, to work double or triple shifts. She's fallen asleep in her chair, the examination table, and once briefly while leaning against the wall.
"Let me guess." Tosses his head towards her, his eyebrows arched in investigating her reasoning, eyes squinting like he can read her. She doesn't know very much about his race, so he very well could, but, they might be beyond that now. "It's about this Jackson idiot, right?"
"Somewhat."
"You want me to beat the shit out of him as soon as he rings in?" It's a joke but it's also an offer, can't imagine Ronon's lumbering body smashing down appendages, stronger, hulking appendages than Daniel could ever fathom, and leaving a pile of rubble in his wake.
She's still getting emails, videos, letters and she still deletes them all with a heavier conscience because her hormones are starting to get the better of her. She has a drawer full of letters this baby will inherit, and she will never read a single one. In a few days, however, she will have to deal with Daniel face-to-face, as he's managed to wheedle his way onto the Hammond and will be stopping over with Samantha for seven to ten days while the ship restocks and fuels up.
Having to call a meeting not only to announce her pregnancy, but to out Daniel as the father and explain the animosity between them was shameful, it was completely embarrassing and afterwards she scurried away to the cafeteria to drown herself in strawberry jello. Ronon tracked her there, slamming his large form into the seat beside her and shoved something at her arm, assuming it was tissues she thanked him and then went to grab one, but came back with a beautiful red, ripe strawberry. Her eyes glazed over with tears and she cried with mouthfuls of the fruit leaking from the corners of her lips like jam. Clasped onto him as he patted her back, gentle touch and soft voice, and handed her more strawberries until she calmed.
What was really surprising, is that he wasn't her only support. Colonel Shephard and Teyla approached her in her office, along with a very curious, very hazardous Torren, and offered their help as scapegoats. John extended that at any time she felt uncomfortable he would situate her somewhere else for the week's duration. Teyla always said she could shadow her if she needed an excuse to get away. McKay slammed down his tray across from her in the commissary and said something along the lines that all scientists, save for her current company, were assholes and if she wanted him to school the good Dr. Jackson in what was right he had no problem defending her honor. She broke out into thick, sloppy tears of gratitude each time.
Answers him with downtrodden eyes as the wind picks up whipping strands of her hair about her face. He collects them with tender fingers and tucks them behind her ears, his hands remain stationary on her cheeks, and his eyes ask a quick question before his lips land on hers, reaffirming and trusting, honest and supportive. His hand cups the back of her head, easily cradling her to him, but she deepens the kiss, a tentative flick of her tongue over his lips and into his mouth. He inhales her, breathes her in as her nose jabs against his cheek, as his forehead bonks against hers. One of her hands traces the lines of his facial hair and topples down his throat.
They part, breathing heavy and satisfied for their first exploration. His forehead rests against hers and his fingers still spin in her hair, she playfully roles one of his earlobes between her fingers. "That Jackson guy is a real idiot."
When Sam sees the state of her she howls, dropping her bag and running towards her, hands outstretched. Skinny arms fling around her back hugging her and they hold it briefly, the familiar scents of each other, Sam's rose shampoo, her choice of an almost neutral perfume, the fresh quick drying coat of clear nail polish transports them back to six months prior, to shopping trips and coffees and gossip magazines. Then her hands drop to her stomach, palms pressing inward trying to gauge anything about the pregnancy. "You've been busy."
"Well there's not a lot to do up here—"
"You're almost cooked."
"Two more months actually."
"Boy or girl?"
"Don't really care, just, you know—healthy."
"And not hell bent on destroying all life."
He pops in behind her, travel bag slung casually over his shoulder. He's wearing his green uniform and his glasses, and his hair is starting to lighten around his temples and into the beard he's let grow. "That has yet to be seen," the change in her voice, the bitterness alerts Sam, who glances behind her to Daniel then back to her. With one nod she answers the unasked question and Sam rolls her eyes.
She nods once to her one-time lover, her old best friend, and something within her aches because of the way she feels towards him now. "Daniel."
"Vala—I—you look—" Starts three separate sentences all while trying to reign in his loose travel bag.
"I've volunteered to show you the whereabouts of your rooms." Turns her back to him, ignoring his fallen luggage and the expression of wide-eyed disbelief at her wide hipped big belly, and instead begins her job. "Since you've both been privy to life aboard Atlantis before, I'll skip over all the boring details and just remind you to keep in uniform as there are so many bloody people here it helps us discern where you belong."
Counts down the seconds waiting until he points out the fatal flaw she stitched in place. He makes it two minutes and thirty-eight seconds, which happens to be when they're on the first lift.
"You're—uh—you're not wearing a uniform," interrupts the silence, the sound of gears shifting in the shaft.
"No, I'm not. Keen eye as ever, Daniel." Pulls the material of her long-sleeved black top so it tucks under the considerable dip of her stomach. "I'm simply growing to quickly for them to keep up in uniform sizes, by the time they get them to me, I need another size up. I'm afraid to say the ordeal ended up with me and Colonel Shepperd in tears, so we came to an agreement that a black shirt was sufficient. You might be able to come to the same agreement with him, but you'll have to be manufacturing a tiny person in your being."
"Yeah, no that's okay. That's—"
The lift dings and the doors slide open revealing Ronon waiting patiently, nervously with his precious thumbs twiddling. She told him she didn't need him for support that day, but secretly wanted him there, secretly, and her baby kicks in his direction.
"Hey Lil' Mama," greets her with a wide grin, one of relief, like the three hours they haven't seen each other have caused him sleepless nights. Without taking his attention away from her, he holds an arm out to Sam, who complies in giving him her baggage. "Gonna have to cancel our golfing excursion."
"Waves to high, darling?" Tries not to preen over him like she wants to, to hook her arm through his, swing with his gait as she waddles because she hasn't felt like this in a long time. This confident, this relaxed, but she got here on good graces and there's no need to gloat.
"Damn near blew McKay out to sea."
"Really?"
"Well the man's full of hot air."
Samantha's room happens to be just across the hall from hers, but this is privier information than she's willing to reveal. Instead she makes plans with the Colonel, for what she calls third lunch, and they agree to meet in the commissary shortly.
She and Ronon walk slightly ahead of Daniel in the tight hallway as he toddles behind, his investigative brain still putting the building blocks together of where he belongs in the situation which he'll certainly find is not in it. They reach a stairwell just before the men's dorms and they halt.
"Want me to go save you a table? Grab you some food? You must be getting pretty hungry" Ronon asks almost bowing down to her again. He's been with her the last four months almost every day, knows the cyclical pattern to her food, proteins in the morning, fruit at lunch, tries to get her to eat something else but fruit for dinner and she gets sick. Maybe sneak in a slice of cheese.
"Yes please."
"Alright, lets see what it is today." He uses his wrist to mimic polishing her stomach and she chuckles at the friction tickling her skin. When he's finished he places his large hands on either side of her belly, holding her still, and cranes an ear to her stomach. "Peaches."
"Yes."
"Pomegranate."
"Yes."
"Half a banana."
"Yes."
"Broccoli?"
Her nose twitches in slight disgust but it may be the best option out of the choices provided. "I suppose."
"With cheese."
"Get out." She slaps him away playfully, he catches her hand in midair and kisses it gently. The moment is so pure, so unadulterated and full of joy, that she forgets Daniel is even present until Ronon disappears up the stairs.
She nods to the hallway, and he wobbles down after her, his bag unbalancing him a bit, his child unbalancing her. They don't speak until passing the B cabins. Daniel is in G. Apparently Shepperd really wasn't impressed with him.
"Seems like a nice guy," he finally breaks the ice by belly flopping straight onto it.
"One of the best I've ever met."
"How long have you been seeing him?"
"Since yesterday afternoon." It's true but the flirtation, the foundation of their relationship started the moment he explained the amphora to her during her first month. "He made the first move on me which was refreshing, although I haven't asked him if he was being controlled by a system lord yet."
"Are we going to talk about this?"
They're at E now, so if she hurries her waddling perhaps they won't have to. "I did my talking back on Earth, Daniel. I'm quite candid with my feelings, you'll find."
"But you didn't give me a chance to explain mine."
"Yes, I did. For six weeks I did, and you denied sleeping with me, you continually blamed me, you turned the night of our baby's conception into a classless occasion."
"Okay—so I wasn't the greatest at admitting my feelings, but I never am. I can never get it together on time and after you left I tried to explain to you how I felt—I'm ready now. I'm ready for you, and our baby. I—I want you to come back to Earth, to the SGC. I want to try to be a family."
"I think it's lovely you feel this way." Her hand rubs his shoulder in reassurance because she is proud of him for taking some modicum of responsibility. "But my family is here. I'm staying here, raising my baby here."
"Then where do I fit in?"
"You don't."