A/N: Thank you to everyone who is still reading, following, commenting, etc. I love all of your support. If you're a user who has left a review, I've hopefully replied to it. If you are a Guest reviewer, thank you so much!
I hope you enjoy this next chapter. There hasn't been too much Eva recently, and I wanted to fix that. We also get a bit of a glimpse into Ronon's rough around the edges parenting techniques haha.
CW for some blood/knife wounds.
Over these past few weeks, Ronon had learned a lot about Emma Rogers, but if there was one thing that had surprised him above all else, it was how secretive she was.
Ronon hadn't always been an introvert. Years ago, on Sateda, he had shared his living quarters at the academy with dozens of other cadets and was never bothered by it. He would go out drinking and partying with large groups almost every weekend, sharing stories until the wee hours of the morning. Camaraderie and companionship were what he had loved most about commanding a unit. Even with Melena, he was always the one encouraging her to let loose, go out with friends, socialize. But seven years of complete isolation would change a man. And they had changed him.
With only himself and the woods as company, he learned to not only accept it, but enjoy it; and so, reintroduction to society in Atlantis had been difficult for him, not only because of the cultural differences, but because he had held onto the idea that one day, he would return to his old self. That once again, he would gain energy from the noise and pulse of a crowd. That being packed close with others in a small space wouldn't trouble him. That parties, gatherings, festivals would be enjoyable once more.
Only a few months ago did he realize part of him had died in those woods; ashes of that old Ronon had been scattered across the Pegasus Galaxy.
Now, he found pleasure in the simplicity and solitude of sharpening a knife or cleaning his gun. He preferred meals with just Teyla or Sheppard rather than with a whole group of brothers and sisters in arms. He only told late-night stories to those he kept close. The type of person he had become, they were the ones who kept secrets.
But Rogers? She had made friends with almost half the base within her first month of living on it - or at least it seemed that way. She went to every movie night, every birthday party, every Athosian harvest festival she was invited to. As far as he had heard, her easygoing personality meant that she worked well with any team she was assigned to. No one ever groaned at the inclusion of her name on a mission list like they frequently did with McKay's or even Parrish's.
Friendly and talkative, he always figured she was an open book. But after getting to know her, he was beginning to wonder how much of it was a mask. Even the night before at dinner, when she had opened up and told him all about her sister and her niece, he still sensed that she was hiding something. There was almost always something going on under that smile of hers.
There had definitely been something going on with Captain Hanson on that balcony, but what he wasn't totally sure. To start with, he hadn't believed that she had slipped and dropped her coffee mug; but the lack of spilled beverage on either her uniform or the captain's also ruled out that it had been broken in a struggle. It was likely that what she had said about working with him back on Earth was true; a lot of these people had worked together before coming here. But her explanation that he had merely dropped by to say hello...on a secluded balcony...in a section of the city he didn't often frequent? Ronon was definitely missing something.
If there was one thing he absolutely believed now, though, it was that Rogers wasn't interested in Hanson. She had said about as much a few minutes ago, but then again, he had learned to not always take her words at face value. No. He had been convinced of her lack of interest in the marine before he found her on that balcony. The minute she showed up at Ronon's door the night before – that was when he knew. She had come to him, to Ronon, for comfort and that little thought sparked a warm sensation from the base of his ribs through the rest of his body.
Glancing down at Rogers walking next to him, he caught a glimpse of her unguarded facial expression. She was picking at the cuticles on her fingernails, staring blindly into the distance, her lips pressed tightly together. She was worried. Deeply, truly worried. He laid a hand on her back and she offered him a weak smile in return, but, like so often with her, it wasn't sincere.
They eventually found Eva sitting on the floor outside the conference room, presumably lying in wait for Mr. Woolsey. She had a tablet in her lap and was clicking furiously through it. So absorbed was she in her task, she didn't hear them approach.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ronon asked.
"Research," she said without missing a beat or giving any indication that their arrival had caught her off guard. She didn't even take her eyes off the screen.
"What kind of research?" Rogers asked.
"Right now, I'm looking up everyone on base who doesn't have the Ancient Gene."
"Everyone who doesn't have the – Hang on." Ronon interrupted his own train of thought. "Where did you get that thing?"
She froze and looked up at them for the first time. "I…borrowed it from a friend?"
Rogers put her hands on her hips.
"Checked it out from the library?"
"Try again," Ronon said.
"Found it lying around somewhere and was just on my way to return it to its rightful owner?"
"Give that to me," Rogers hissed, taking it from her hands. After pressing a few buttons, her eyes widened in surprise at the appearance of a pigeon on the home screen. "Eva, this is Zelenka's tablet!"
The girl fought back the urge to laugh. "Yes, it is. You know, for as smart as he is, he sure can be a spacey one."
Powering down the tablet, Rogers hugged it close to her chest.
"Why are you looking up the people who don't have the Ancient gene?" Ronon asked.
"Because if we're going to go back to M5R-233, we need to make sure the team that goes doesn't get affected by the temple's interference. Luckily, there are over a dozen gene-negative pilots who have logged significant flight time in 302s."
"302s?" Rogers echoed.
Eva nodded. "If puddle jumpers are out of the question, the 302s are the next best bet."
"Naturally," Rogers said, somewhat amused by this turn of events.
Eva scowled up at her. "I am determined to find my way home, back to my real parents," she glanced pointedly at Ronon, which sent an unexpected jab through his chest, "and if that means coming up with hairbrained schemes to get me back to that planet, so be it."
"Yeah, well…you might want to put those plans on hold," Ronon said.
"I know. You think Woolsey won't approve it. But I'm still going to –"
"I've got a different mission for you."
Eva halted her argumentation and gawked at them, mouth agape. "A mission? For me?"
"Ronon," Rogers whispered in rebuke.
He held out his hands in front of him, both to quiet her and as if to say "give me a chance."
"Woolsey wants to wake Janus up," he explained.
"Why?" Eva blurted.
"Because the Wraith are headed this way," Rogers said.
Eva shifted and drew her knees to her chest.
"But in order to wake him up, we need more Wraith enzyme. And to get more enzyme, we're going to do a run on a Wraith-controlled outpost."
Wide-eyed, Eva sat quietly as she looked up at him.
"The mission has been assigned to recon teams one and two. But Sheppard thinks your…experience would be an asset."
Eva stared at her knee while her hand absentmindedly found its way to the top of her back. "And what do you think?" she asked.
He looked over at Rogers before replying. She didn't return the glance, but he could see a distant resignation in her gaze and for a moment, he felt a twinge of guilt for pressing this issue with her.
"I think you need this mission as much as this mission needs you."
Eva's eyes glossed over and she blinked a few times before addressing Rogers. "What about you? What are your thoughts about all of this?"
Rogers looked to Ronon to answer Eva's question. "I don't think it's safe."
He met her gaze head on and tried as best as he could to soften his voice and expression. "You said if I promised to keep her safe, you'd be okay with it."
She pursed her lips, looked to the ground and released a long exhale.
"You interested?" Ronon asked the girl.
She squinted up at him. "What's the catch?"
"You do anything and everything I say, without question, without hesitation, and without argument."
"That it?"
"That's it."
She shrugged. "Okay."
This one-word agreement was all Ronon needed to proceed and he wasted no time reaching into his gauntlet to pull out a small dagger. "Give me your wrist."
Eva's eyes turned to saucers.
"What?" Rogers caught his bicep in her hand. "Ronon, you can't be serious!"
Before he could explain what he was intending to do, a voice that he knew belonged to Eva, despite sounding uncharacteristically small and quiet, spoke.
"It's okay."
Rogers's grip on his arm loosened, but she didn't let go.
Almost without thought, Eva pulled back her sleeve but hesitated in offering her arm. "I…I thought this kind of vow was only done for marriage unions."
Ronon crouched down to her level, leaving Rogers's arm floating midair. "It's for any oath of life and death. I trust that I don't need to explain to you how serious a vow it is."
Eva's eyes drifted up to Rogers before she nodded her understanding.
He knew that Eva would have known about this oath. He knew that her parents would have made a similar oath on their wedding night. And he knew that the sheer gravity of it would have been impressed upon her after seeing it in action, day after day, night after night in her own household.
Taking the knife to his wrist, he made a shallow cut, reopening the scar tissue that had formed there long ago when he had made his vows to Melena.
"Ronon!" Rogers gasped.
"You know enough Old Satedan to make your vow?" The cut was flowing freely and drops of his blood fell to the floor as he waited for her reply.
Slowly, Eva lowered her arm to him. "I think so."
As quickly as he could, Ronon slit her wrist. Eva winced but made no audible utterance of pain.
"Oh my God," Rogers breathed, recoiling from the sight.
Ronon pressed his bloodstained wrist to Eva's and stared into her eyes, hardly blinking. Unwavering, she held his gaze and for the first time in years, Ronon recognized the face of a true, fellow Satedan.
"I will protect you and shield you with my life." Ronon spoke in the language of his people, of his forebearers, but the words that came from his mouth felt dusty, like antiques of a past life that had been tucked away into the dark, cobwebbed corners of his mind.
Blood seeped slowly from both of their wrists and congealed into one small puddle on the floor.
"I will place your safety and wellbeing above all else," he continued. With every word, the dust blew away and the sounds felt more familiar. "I will safeguard your life above all others, including my own. This I vow to you."
He stopped speaking and, without prompting, Eva knew it was her turn.
"I do - I will do everything you say," she began, "without –" her eyebrows knitted together in intense concentration, "without question…without –" Her language skills were beginning to fail her.
"Without hesitation," Ronon provided.
"Without hesitation," she repeated.
"Without argument."
"Without argument." She took a deep breath. "This I vow to you."
He gripped her forearm and squeezed, and she did the same before they released. He then stood, reached into his pocket, and offered Eva his handkerchief so she could fashion herself a bandage.
Shaking the blood from his own wrist, he turned to Rogers. "Old Satedan comes from Ancient." The occasion had become solemn, so he was brusque. "How much did you understand?"
"Enough," she answered quietly.
"She's Satedan. She will keep her word." He reached to take her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "And so will I."
Her lip trembled and she glanced away for a moment, but returned her eyes to his. "I know," she said with the smallest of nods. "She can go." Sniffing softly, she extricated her hand from his. "I need to get back to work now."
He watched as she hurried down the corridor and out of sight before returning his attention to Eva. "We're briefing here with Lorne's team at 13:00 hours. Should give you enough time to clear your head and clean that up," he nodded his chin toward the fresh wound on her arm. "I didn't cut deep; it shouldn't need stitches."
She tightened the makeshift tourniquet with her teeth and nodded.
He clapped her on the side of her arm and she rocked a bit from the impact. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said, craning her neck to look up at him. "Thank you."
A/N: What do you think? Should Eva go on the mission or should she stay on Atlantis? And how do you think she managed to take Zelenka's tablet from him?