A/N: Hello again! My last chapter gave us some father-daughter interaction, so I figured it was only fair to get some mother-daughter time in. And I think this chapter may also give some background/reasoning for some of Rogers's earlier actions that a few of you commented on as being odd or inappropriate.
To my new reviewers and followers, thank you so much! So many of you have disabled private messaging on your accounts, so I can't send you individual thank you messages, but I want you to know that I really appreciate all of you. :)
Enjoy! Let me know what you think.
Her earliest memory was of the ocean. And like all infantile memories, it had no narrative, no structure; it was entirely composed of snippets, smells, sensations. The cool, humid breeze across her face, the briny scent of the air, the rhythmic rocking motion of the waves… For her entire life, as long as she could hear the ocean, she knew she was home. She had missed it while she was away.
A familiar voice spoke quietly from behind her, stirring her from her thoughts. "I thought this was my thinking spot."
Eva turned to see her mother standing at the entrance of the balcony, flanked by her guards. "I guess you were the one who told me about it," she admitted.
Emma approached with a sly smile on her lips. "I suspected as much. After the mess and the sparring room, this balcony came up third on my list of places to check for you."
Eva narrowed her eyes with suspicion. "You radioed one of my guards and asked him where I was, didn't you?"
Her smile widened. "Yeah," she admitted.
Eva's gaze dropped to the canvas bag, garishly decorated with the Lone Star flag, slung over her mother's shoulder. "Why were you looking for me?"
"Well," she started with a sigh, slipping the tote off her arm and holding it open so Eva could see inside, "I thought you might be lacking a few necessities."
Eva peered into the bag. A stack of folded clothes peeked out from underneath, and on top lay an assortment of toiletries packed neatly into Ziploc bags: a full bottle of shampoo, conditioner, disposable razors, body wash, tampons, lip balm.
"Some of the clothes are mine that no longer fit me and the rest I raided the base lost and found for. I think you'll find that it's a lot of black, gray, and camo," she laughed softly.
Eva glanced back up at her.
"I washed them all; don't worry," she hastily added.
"I know how to do my own laundry."
"I'm sure you do," she smiled.
Eva bit the inside of her cheek and stared at the offering. "Thanks," she eventually said, taking the bag from her and then setting it to the side.
Her mother relaxed a bit, rested her arms over the railing, and gazed up into the night sky. "So," she began, "what did you come here to think about?"
Eva hung her head and sensed Emma watching her out of the corner of her eye. "Home."
Emma nodded slowly. "If you ever need anything or want to talk, you can come to me, you know," she offered. "I know I'm no substitute for your real mom, but I'd like to at least try to be helpful."
Eva surveyed her from top to bottom and after a long pause finally asked, "How old are you?"
Emma frowned at the non-sequitur. "Twenty-five."
"That explains it," Eva muttered.
She shook her head to indicate she wasn't following. "Explains what?"
"Look, I know you have a lot of, like, surplus mom energy or whatever from giving up Allie a few –"
"You know about Allie?" Emma breathed.
"The half-sister you led me to believe was my cousin my whole life?" she snapped. "Yeah. I know about her," she said, her tone much more bitter than she intended.
Speechless, Emma angled her face away from Eva's and, once more, fixated on the stars above.
Eva noticed Emma's chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. She sighed, realizing first, the abandonment of her first child was clearly a difficult topic for her, and second, that this version of her mother didn't deserve her anger. She took in a deep breath and reined in her resentment. "Allie's, what, like three now?"
"Nearly four," Emma nodded, still staring intently at the night sky.
"I understand that wound must still be fresh...I know how much you love her and I can only imagine how hard it was for you to leave her. And after giving up one daughter, now, a few years later, out of the blue appears another one, I bet this feels like a second chance for you. I appreciate what you're doing for me, but to be honest, you don't even know me. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," Emma conceded before daring to look at her again. "But that doesn't mean you should have to."
Eva clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes, then remained quiet for a moment. "I don't even know what to call you," she eventually confessed.
Her mother regarded her with confusion for an instant, then shrugged and shook her head. "You can call me Emma…unless that's weird for you."
Eva chewed her lip and nodded slowly.
They both leaned over the balcony, mother staring at the stars, daughter at the sea, the lapping of the gentle current filling the lull in their conversation.
Emma was the first to break the silence. "I've been wondering about something…aside from Allie, of course, do you have any other siblings?"
"No. I'm an only child."
"Oh," Emma whispered.
"I…I think you and Dad both wanted more kids but…" She turned to Emma who was looking back at her, rapt with attention. She wasn't sure if she should share the rest with her. Eva took a breath and looked down at the floor, "you couldn't."
Emma's eyes widened as she contended with her possible future. She swallowed hard and blinked a few times in rapid succession. "Your parents must miss you a lot, then."
Eva nodded, closed her eyes, and focused on the crash of the surf against the pier.
"You said you're sixteen, right?" Emma asked.
Eva opened her eyes. "Yeah."
"So…" she paused, "so where you're from, Ronon and I have been together for sixteen years?"
"Longer," Eva replied. "You were together for a while before I was born. I think it's been over twenty years."
Emma let out a quiet laugh of disbelief. "Of all people, Ronon Dex is the last person I could picture in a twenty-year relationship." She shook her head. "He's too much of a lone wolf for that."
"Well…" Eva shrugged, "they do say wolves mate for life."
Emma turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "That's a myth." She paused. "No…" she contemplated, sighing deeply, "he's one of those people that shuts everyone out. Can't say I blame him…after everything he went through."
Eva looked away from the ocean and into Emma's eyes. "Not with you," she declared with a determined shake of her head.
Even in the darkness, she could see her flush slightly. "Do you think you might be saying all this to ensure your own future existence?" she teased.
Eva laughed quietly. "Can you blame me?"
Emma smiled and stared back at her, ruminating on something. "Are we happy?" she finally asked, her expression suddenly solemn, voice devoid of any humor. "What I mean is…does he treat me well?"
Eva raised her eyebrows at the strange question. What was she insinuating? Of course he did. "He loves you a lot," she declared.
Emma green eyes bore into her own, too timid – or perhaps too proud – to request more details, but clearly craving more.
"He," Eva smiled, "he pretends your singing isn't terrible, he always makes coffee for you in the morning, he dances with you when you've had a bad day…"
"He what?" she asked with astonishment, eyebrows raised.
"He's actually not bad. He definitely dances better than you sing."
"Ronon…dancing?" Emma looked at her as though she had sprouted another head.
"And it's not even like typical embarrassing parent dancing." She shuffled her feet and snapped her fingers to demonstrate. "You taught him all those sensual Latin dances. It's super gross." She curled her top lip. "We have a rule now that you two aren't allowed to dance in the living room or the kitchen anymore."
Emma shook her head, incredulous. "I think your Ronon and our Ronon might be two different people."
"People change with time, I guess." She subconsciously brought her hand to the pendant around her neck.
"That's a pretty necklace," Emma complimented, noticing the gesture.
Eva recognized it as a deliberate change in subject, but obliged her anyway. "My dad made it for me."
"He did? Can I see it?"
"Sure." Eva unclasped the necklace and dropped it into Emma's outstretched palm.
She studied it, running her fingers along the placard, shining in the moonlight. "It's beautiful," she remarked. "He did this by hand?"
Eva nodded. "I've had it as long as I can remember."
"These almost look like gate symbols," Emma commented.
"They are," she confirmed. "That's the gate address for Sateda." She leaned closer to Emma and pointed to the first symbol. "That's Arami, then Alura, Ecrumig…"
"Hang on," Emma interrupted. "The symbols have names? I've always just learned them as numbers relative to their position on a DHD."
"Yeah. They're constellations…named by the Ancestors," she explained.
Emma's eyes widened. "I have to go," she announced. "I have to find McKay. Thank you." She smiled and gestured to the canvas bag at their feet. "Let me know if you need anything else, okay?" She handed Eva's necklace back to her, squeezed her hand, then with a swish of red hair and a click of her earpiece, left Eva alone once more with her waves.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed! How does the balance between the two story lines feel? Two much Eva? Too much romance? Just enough of both?