Please see first chapter for disclaimer, rating, warnings, pairings, etc.

Part 22/24

-Chapter 22-

A Time to Heal

-Atlantis – Present-

Ronon stood before the door to Teyla's quarters. His hand hovered an inch away from the door chime as he debated whether or not to disturb her. After all, it was very late. If she had taken the sedatives Beckett had insisted on giving her, she might actually be getting some much needed sleep. He started to pull his hand back, and hesitated.

He remembered being alone after Melena's death, with no family, no comrades to share his mourning. In fact, for the next seven years he'd been alone with only the cold comfort of his bitter grief and hate. His jaw knotted. No one should ever have to mourn alone.

He rang the chime and waited for her either to call for him to come in, or for her to come to the door.

Nothing happened.

Ronon gently rapped his knuckles against the door. "Teyla," he called softly, "it's me, Ronon."

Teyla's voice, so faint he almost couldn't hear it, reached him. "Go away."

At a different point in his life, he might have done that. Not now, though, and hopefully not ever again. "Teyla, I'm worried about you. Are you okay?"

"I told you to go away!" There was a resounding thump against the inside of the door.

He sighed deeply. "Teyla, if you're not decent, tell me now, because I'm coming in!" He waited for a second. Silence. Taking it for permission, he hit the door control and entered her room.

The lights in the corridor outside had been dimmed down for the night, but they seemed bright compared to the near darkness of Teyla's quarters. For a moment after the door closed behind him, his eyes registered nothing but blackness. The only light was the weak moonlight coming in through the windows, and the golden glow of a single lit candle sitting on her bedside table.

Once his eyes adjusted, he immediately saw that Teyla's bed was empty. He swept the room with his gaze and spotted Teyla sitting in the farthest corner of the room. She had her legs drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. She wore the loose pants and sleeveless top she slept in, her hair hanging damply around her face. Faint though the light was, it glistened from the tears still sliding silently down her haggard cheeks.

"Teyla. . ." The sight of her broke his heart. He crossed the room and hunkered down on his heels directly in front of her.

She glared at him for a heartbeat, then another, and a third. Her shoulders slumped and she rested her forehead against her knees while putting her arms over her head. "I told you to go away," she growled, her voice muffled.

Ronon watched her with thoughtful, concerned eyes, knowing it would be a mistake to try to touch her just yet. Well, he'd been like that once; he'd spent years rejecting human contact. The memory of that angry, lonely time vibrated along his nerves. "I can't do that, Teyla. You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I want to be alone! Go away!"

"No." He uttered that single syllable gently, but inexorably. "Teyla, I want to help you. Please, let me help."

She laughed bitterly, sounding so much unlike her that it hurt. She curled in even tighter on herself. "You cannot." Her voice jerked out in barely audible gasps. "You do not understand. After," she gulped, "after the other night, the morning before the Wraith came, I woke and I was so happy. I made a promise to myself to cherish you for every moment we had together. But when I made it, I expected to be the one to die. I know, I know, it was selfish of me, I see that so clearly now. And then I watched the other you die in my arms, and in such agony–" A tremendous shuddering went through her body. "You will hate me now because I am a coward, a selfish coward, but I do not – think – I am strong enough – to face – that – again."

She looked so small and fragile sitting there, so much like if one more thing went wrong she would break. He ached with the need to gather her into his arms; gripping his hands together tightly, he resisted it, knowing it was still too soon. Instead he said quietly, "You're wrong, Teyla. I do understand. When I said those words the other night, I was talking about him. But now I'm saying them about you. Look at me." Slowly, she raised her face from her arms, compelled by the intensity in his voice. "I remember confessing to cowardice then, but you didn't let that turn you away from me."

He eased forward onto his knees and placed his hands on them, feeling in his heart that everything hung on the frail thread of his words. "Do you remember what you said next?" Still held by his gaze, she gave the tiniest of nods. "You said that perhaps our future would be given back to us. And it has been. Yes, it cost everything he had to give; and yes, one day one of us may have to face losing the other. But I've lived both sides of that story, Teyla Emmagan, and I'm telling you: I would rather take that risk than go back to being the way I was for so long after Melena died." He stopped speaking, all but holding his breath, his eyes still locked on hers. The silence stretched out between them.

A shattering sob burst from Teyla. She hurled herself at him so suddenly he barely got his arms up in time to catch her. Her arms wrapped around his neck in a stranglehold as she hid her face against him.

Ronon gently gathered her into his arms. Rising effortlessly to his feet, he carried her across the room to her bed. He sat down, holding her on his lap, one hand moving over her back in a steady, soothing rhythm, feeling her salty tears warm against his neck and down his chest. "I love you, Teyla Emmagan," he whispered time and again into her hair. "I love you."

Gradually, Teyla's sobbing eased, her body shuddering less and less often. Still Ronon cradled her close as all the tension ebbed from her body. Her jerky breathing evened out, slow, slow, slower. Her arms slackened around his neck, though she did not completely release her hold.

She slept.

Moving very carefully, he hitched along the bed until he could lean back against the headboard. He lifted one leg at a time, stretching them out along the mattress. Teyla shifted a little, her breath puffing out softly across his heart. She settled again, her slight body a sweet and precious weight in his arms.

"I love you, Teyla," he whispered again, hoping the words would wind their way into her dreams. "I love you."

Their world was right for now. For at least this moment, he chose to continue to believe that it always would be.

To Be Continued. . .