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Chapter Text

How was he ever supposed to understand these people when they kept changing the rules? Ronon huffed, went to say something, but then…what was the point?

“I’m sorry.” Keller touched a hand gently to his arm and he pulled back.

“Don’t say that when you don’t mean it. I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not…” Now she huffed, mirroring his own frustration and he tasted acid in his throat. “I don’t pity you, Ronon. I never have. I thought…” He looked at her, knew too much emotion was overflowing from him, and her words faded. It wasn’t as though there was anything else to say, so he turned on his heel and left.

He didn’t want to go back to his quarters to mope. It would only highlight to him again how alone he was in a city surrounded by people. People who were other, who couldn’t understand the complexities of the heart. The true heart. The Satedan heart. Satedan culture was lost on them. Satedan culture was lost, period. Along with anyone with any capacity to feel deeply, to have the desire to create something bigger than they were. These people looked the same, well, most of them looked a little soft around the edges—Satedans were firm bodied, angular, with deep, soft hearts for family—but at times like this, when it really mattered, these Earthers were so alien it cut Ronon to the bone.

He passed them in the corridors going about their business, flirting, laughing, talking with gravity, and tried to tune it all out, tried to remember the warmth of his mother’s home, the lightness in the joy of gathering with friends before the war, before everything was gone. But seven years was a long time and those memories had faded, all he could picture now were the ruins of his city and the desolate wasteland with no signs of life. He fought back the urge to punch something, to hammer his fists against the metal walls until they bled, to find something, anything, anyone, who could help him feel alive again. Feel whole.

And of course, the gods would laugh at him, tease him by placing the one person Ronon knew had a heart as deep as his own, who had the capacity to reach beyond the superficiality of his own people and be elevated to the level of a Satedan warrior--Sheppard.

“Hey, big guy, what’s with the thunder face? Jennifer bail on you again for some sickly pup?”

“She bailed on me for good this time.” It hurt, looking at him. Telling him. Ronon was sure Sheppard hadn’t liked that Ronon was with Keller, that maybe there was a part of him that had wanted Ronon for himself and Ronon had tried. He’d tried to engage Sheppard that way, in conversation, in sparring, but had come up empty and hurting.

Sheppard stilled, cocked his head in that way he did when he was trying to understand something. “She…she finished with you?”

“Yes. So, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go pummel some marines.” Ronon made to walk off.

“Wait.”

He sighed, pausing his stride. He really didn’t want to do this. Not here. And certainly not with… “What is there to say, Sheppard? You have too many words that mean nothing and none that hold value.”

“That’s a little harsh. But, hey, come on, what happened?”

“Who knows. Who the hell cares?” And wasn’t that the truth? “I’m too much, not enough. I have no idea. She wants me to share, she doesn’t want me to share that… I’m done with all of you. You people make no sense to me.” And then he walked away leaving an eerie silence in his wake.

SGASGASGASGASGA

John seethed quietly. He hated seeing Ronon so lost and angry. He deserved better, he deserved more. It was none of his business what had gone on between him and Keller, but he was going to damned well make it his business. Nobody messed with his team without him coming down hard on them. No one.

He made his way to medical, hoping Keller would be there without actually being on shift. Of all the people to screw over. Ronon still found it hard to trust, to let people in, and she’d…well, he didn’t know what she’d done. It was bad enough he’d had to sit back and watch their fledgling little thing get off the ground, but knowing Ronon was finally happy, that he wouldn’t be alone anymore, that was worth the heartache. But to watch it crash and burn and Ronon become even more withdrawn…to think Ronon could actually leave Atlantis all together? Unthinkable. Not going to happen. Whatever it took, however painful it would be to think of Ronon behind closed doors with someone else…he’d do it just to have him here. To know he was safe and happy. And safe. Seven years. How did anyone survive that?
Medical was quiet. John found Keller in her office sifting through paperwork. “Got a minute?”

She looked up, surprised. No sign of having just broken up with a significant other. “What can I do for you, John?”

“Ronon.” With that one word, her whole demeanour changed.

“What could you possibly have to say to me about Ronon?”

John opened his mouth to speak but paused as her words sunk in. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Her sigh was heavy. “Never mind. Say what you’re here to say.”

“I’m not…I just wanted to find out what happened, see if you two can’t straighten things out.”

“Right. Of course, you are.”

“Look…”

“No, John, you look. I don’t care what you think you are here to do, but there is nothing to fix, okay? Things were…nothing ever got off the ground, not really, so it’s not as though I’m actually ending anything.”

“You weren’t dating?”

“We were, but he, we didn’t ever…”

“You dumped him because he didn’t put out? The man was completely alone for seven years, Jennifer. You couldn’t give him a little time to get used to the thought of being intimate with you?”

“What? No, god, no, you…” She paused to look at him. Really look at him, and he felt his skin itch as she tried to see beyond what he was willing to share. “You don’t know, do you? God, you come here to lecture me about what I should and shouldn’t do, and you have no idea.”

“Why don’t you enlighten me?” His voice was tight, he knew it, but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of that tome from Nancy in the last days of their marriage to put up with it from a colleague.

“I don’t want to be a Lifeline Lover, John. Do you understand that at least?”

“I…no, I don’t”

“You don’t understand that isn’t enough, or you don’t understand what it is?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Then you need to speak to Ronon. Satedan culture is rich and complex. They feel deeply.” She waved her arm in the air. “And not enough. There is no point us continuing this conversation if you don’t understand the concepts that led to my decision. Hell, we shouldn’t be having this conversation anyway. It would be bad enough for anyone to call me on my decision, but you…you have no right given the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?”

“Ask Ronon. Ask him about how Satedans categorise love, and lovers. Then come and tell me I made the wrong choice.” She turned back to her paperwork, leaving John staring at the back of her head.

He was numb around the edges as he wandered the corridor towards the gym. Ask him about how Satedans categorise love, and lovers. What the hell did that mean? But that wasn’t really the issue. John could occasionally be honest with himself about the deep shit that haunted him in the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what it meant. He was more concerned he knew exactly what it meant, and in that case, did he really want Ronon to explain it to him. Because the one thing he knew for sure, was that he couldn’t lose Ronon. Wouldn’t want to be the cause of him leaving Atlantis and going it alone. Again. For all his steadfast, immovable bluster, the man was a big bucket of goo. Feelings that ran so deep most people failed to see them at all. But John saw them, oh yes, John saw them, felt them, mirrored them, and that’s why Keller had been…necessary.

He rounded the corner to the sparring room to find Ronon slumped against the wall alone. “Where is everyone? I was expecting to see blood on the floor.”

“Yeah, well, they took one look at me and all headed for the showers.”

John sat next to Ronon, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and felt the shudder run through both their bodies at the proximity. “So,” John said carefully. “You want to talk to me about Lifeline Lovers?”

Ronon snorted a laugh. “You actually went to see her, didn’t you?” He shook his head. “I don’t get you, Sheppard. Why would you try to fix it?”

“Forget about that for now. I want to hear from you. Tell me about Sateda, Ronon. Talk me about how your people love.”

“How we love? Are you sure you want to know, because I’ve had one person bail on me already after sharing this.”

“Yeah, well, there’s nothing to bail on, is there. We’re friends, Ronon. I want to understand more of what’s going on for you. So I can be there for you. You don’t have to go through everything alone, and despite what you may think of us as a people, some of us can understand big feelings.”

“I don’t doubt you understand them, John. It’s what you choose to do with them that baffles me.”

John instinctively pressed closer to Ronon at the use of his given name. He was pretty sure it was the first time he’d heard Ronon say it, and it felt good hearing it in that deep, rounded timbre of Ronon’s voice. “Lifeline Lovers, Ronon?”

Ronon sighed, deep and sad. “On Sateda we knew how to love completely. We would give of ourselves. Our lives, our hopes, dreams, our every breath would be for our True Love. When you find your Truest Love, Sheppard, nothing and no one else matters. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I do.” There was a pause, a fraction too long as Ronon took in a shuddery breath. “Melina was your Truest Love?”

Ronon nodded. “It’s not like on Earth, not transitory like your marriage, it’s for life.” Ronon picked at a bead in his hair. “I’ve heard your people talk about soul mates, and I guess it’s similar except, in death…let’s just say if your lifetime is longer than your lover’s you don’t wither away waiting to join them in the afterlife. In a universe with Wraith, life is for living while you have it.”

“So, you have Lifeline Lovers, for when your Truest Love is gone?”

“Yes. And no.” Ronon straightened his legs and rubbed strong hands over his thighs. He was nervous. Why would he be nervous? “In our culture we had four kinds of lovers. Your Truest Lover was your first choice, your everything.” More deep breathing, and now John was nervous. “When your Truest Love wasn’t… When they died, or weren’t interested in you…”

“Wait, not interested in you?”

“You must realise some love is unrequited, John? You could have a deep, lasting love for someone who barely knows you exist in that way,” he met John’s gaze.
“Would you pine away for them, or get on with your life in the best way you know how?”

“OK?”

“In that situation, you would take up with a Lifeline. They will never be your all, or your everything, but they keep you grounded and functioning, they give you focus and purpose.”

“But they aren’t the one.”

“Exactly. From what I see of your people, this is the most common love you have. It is the love people expect in life. It is often transitory for you, but for Satedans it would still be lasting. We love one person at a time. We share our bodies with one lover at a time.” Ronon quirked a smile. “Most of the time, unless there is a mutual need to… Anyway,” he shifted where he sat, and the warmth of his body made itself known in John’s.

“And the other kinds of lovers?”

Ronon looked at John again, deep and searching. “Battle Lovers. As it sounds. In the heat of war, when everything is shot to shit, as you would say, when you aren’t at home in towns and communities but stranded on battle fields far from home… then there are Battle Lovers. You keep each other strong, focused, determined to love another day and bring the war to and end. You love to distraction, rid the body of tension making it free to fight, and fight, and fight. But is exists only in war. There is no place for it in a home. In a township.”

John picked at imaginary lint on his BDU’s. “Is that what we would be?” His words were so quiet he barely heard them over the thump of his heart.

“What did you say?”

“And the last type of lover?” John asked, ignoring the fact he’d voiced his deepest fears, that Ronon would see him only as means to release tension in the midst of battle.

Ronon narrowed his gaze for a moment but then continued. “Day Lovers. Akin to your people’s one-night-stand. Very rare with Satedans, but in the absence of any of the others if too much time passes.”

“Too much time?”

“Not like your people, who need to fuck every week or so. But if years pass and you are yet to find a Lifeline, well, it is healthy to maintain some kind of connection to love, to the pleasures of the body.”

“Right.” Day Lovers. Since Nancy, and before Nancy, that had been all John had known. And now, whether he cared to admit it or not, he was faced with the truest of True Loves there could ever be in his world, but it was unrequited. Ronon may only think of Keller as a Lifeline, but in the absence of Melina what else was he to do? Keller should be happy to have Ronon’s commitment to a life together. “And you told Jennifer she was a Lifeline?”

“She isn’t. Yet.” Ronon shifted to face John. “You realise we aren’t lovers, right? We have never been…together.”

“But you thought she may become a Lifeline?”

“Yes.” Ronon sighed deeply and the sound tore at John’s insides. “That is what we discussed when she ended things. And I don’t understand, Sheppard, because that’s all you people ever seem to search for. When somebody is looking for a soul mate, a deeper connection, you people, you make fun of them, call them dreamers. I thought she would understand what I was offering.”

“I don’t think she does understand.” John pushed himself to his feet. “I’ll talk to her. Help her to see what you…”

“That’s what you want?” Ronon’s voice was edged with anger. “After everything I’ve just told you, you would want to see me with Keller?”

“What I want, Ronon, is to see you happy.”

“Happy?”

“Yes. Focused, grounded. Isn’t that what you said you thought you could build with her? That’s what I want for you.” John could see Ronon grinding his teeth, but he said nothing, so John left him as he’d found him and headed back to the medical bay.

“I don’t want to hear what you think about it,” Keller said as John tapped on the door frame to her office.

“You told me to come back when I understood. Now I do, and you’re making a mistake.”

She spun around, all fire and fury. “I’m making a mistake? How dare you stand there and say that to me.”

“Jennifer, he’s offering you a lifetime commitment. What more can you ask of him?”

The anger drained and her eyes narrowed. “Oh, my god. You still don’t get it, do you?”

“Sure, I do. You want to be his Truest Love, but he knows he can only offer you his life and his love, not his heart and soul.” Why couldn’t she understand that? It was simple even to John, and he wasn’t exactly great with the emotional stuff.

“John, it’s one thing to be second fiddle to a dead wife, most of us can live with that. But I’m sorry, I’m not going to build a life with a man knowing his heart and soul belongs to someone he sees every day. I’m not strong enough for that, and quite frankly, it’s completely inappropriate for you to expect or even ask that of me. And for what reason, your own hang ups?”

John sighed. “You’ve lost me again.”

“Of course, I have. Because you are both completely oblivious, and utterly ridiculous. You, John, are Ronon’s Truest Love. He belongs to you. We could build a life together, and possibly learn to be happy, but it wouldn’t change the fact he loves you. He wants to be with you. His heart and soul, as you said, are with you and always will be.” John stared, mouth open. “If you want to find someone to blame for Ronon’s loneliness, look in the mirror. Now, please, leave me alone.” She didn’t wait for him to leave and instead brushed past him disappearing from sight. Her words echoed around his head. You, John, are Ronon’s Truest Love. No. it couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

But it was possible. It was so possible, John wanted to kick himself for refusing to see it sooner. Refused to see it because there wasn’t a damn thing in this universe or the next, he could do about it without being court-martialled and given a one-way ticket back to Earth. Anger welled up in him at the realisation that outdated military protocol was shafting them both, and Ronon hadn’t even signed up to it. At least John had known. He knew before he finished college his tastes ran easy in both directions, but he’d wanted a career in the military, so he’d squashed half of himself, silenced it. And it had worked just fine until Ronon crashed into his life. There was only one thing for it. He needed a drink. A real goddamned drink in a real goddamned bar.

Chapter Text

The Gate room was quiet. “Dial Midway,” John said to Jazelyn at the controls.

“But we don’t have any scheduled…”

“Just do it.”

“Yes, Sir.” She dialled the Midway station and Shepard waited for the ripples to settle before walking though the gate and allowing his body to be torn into atoms.

At Midway, John looked to the control desk. “What can I do for you, Colonel?” John didn’t recognise the guy, and he didn’t really care who it was anyway.

“Dial Earth. I have a few hours R&R and I have something I need to do back home.”

“Uh, I’m not sure…”

“It’s an order,” John said, raising his voice.

“I get that, but I can’t let you go back to Earth wearing the Atlantis Insignia.” The guy pointed to John’s sleeve.

“Damn it.” He hadn’t even noticed. Was so used to wearing the uniform, even on his days off. He stripped off his shirt and flung it to the ground leaving him in just a black tee. “Satisfied?” At least there were no further arguments and the Gate sprang to life. He was going to be in so much trouble for leaving Atlantis without telling Wolsey, but he just didn’t have the strength left in him to care.

This time when he stepped out of the Gate, there was a buzz of activity. “Colonel Shepard, is there a problem?” General Landry looked down his nose at John’s lack of uniform.

“No, sir. I, uh…I have a couple of hours and I…”

“You’ve wasted serious military resource for an afternoon jolly?”

Anger flared deep in John’s stomach. “I haven’t taken a holiday in almost five years, General. I think the least you can do is give me access to a decent bar to get drunk when the need arises.”

“I see.” General Landry gave him an appraising look. “I trust Wolsey knows of your departure?”

“Absolutely.” Not. But I don’t give a damn.

“In that case,” Landry looked around. “You, Lt. Mendez, escort Colonel Shepard to the nearest bar and wait for him to…do whatever it is he’s here to do.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And for goodness sake get him a jacket. It’s Winter, Colonel, you’re going to freeze to death out there.”

A couple of hours later, John was feeling warm and fuzzy but emptier than ever. The knowledge that Ronon was a whole galaxy away hurt like a bitch and his vision was going cloudy around the edges. John looked around. “Mendez,” he said, waving at the soldier waiting patiently by the door. “Mendez, come here.” He watched the young guy wander over. “What do think about it all? I mean, it’s not right is it, not really?”

“I have no idea what you mean, Colonel.”

“No, no, I mean, why would you, I bet the girls go crazy for you right?”

Mendez quirked a smile. “I do okay, I guess.”

“And men, do you do okay with the boys too? I bet you do, you look the type.” To John’s surprise, Mendez laughed.

“I see some action now and then. I hope that’s not a proposition though Colonel, that really wouldn’t be appropriate in your condition, or with me on duty.”

“Right, right. Wait…you wouldn’t mind?”

“Well, it’s not as though we have DADT to worry about anymore. It’s still not common place, but there are a number of personnel in same sex relationships these days.”

“There are?” John’s head span and he grabbed the bar to stop him slipping off his stool. Mendez grabbed him to stop the slide and straightened him up.

“Guess you’ve been out of range a while, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“DADT was repealed more than six months ago, Sir. You can love who you want in the military nowadays.”

“I can? I mean I do anyway, they can’t take it from you even when they say it’s not allowed, but I didn’t know…I didn’t know I could, you know.”

“Oh, right. Well. You can. I mean lots of guys always did, you know?”

“But…” John slumped into Mendez’s shoulder. “I’m a virgin, Mendez,” he whispered. “He’s not going to want a blushing virgin, is he? Not one as old as me.” John realised his face was wet. God, he was crying. Could he be anymore pathetic?

“Okay, I think it’s time to get you back to base, and back to wherever in the universe you’re supposed to be.”

“Not even in this one,” John whispered again. “But don’t say I told you.”

“Right.” Mendez hooked John’s arm over his shoulder. “Time to pay your tab.”

John patted his back pocket, then slapped his hand to his forehead. “Shoot. I didn’t…I forgot to bring my wallet. The excursion wasn’t exactly planned, and I don’t need US dollars where I’m stationed, if you know what I mean. I’ll pay you back,” he said, going for a smile. “I could pay you back in kind, maybe?”

Mendez plopped him back on the stool and dug out his wallet. He threw some money on the bar then lifted John again and half dragged, half carried him back to the jeep.

“So, you want a blowjob or something?”

“Colonel. You need to save it for whoever you’re on your way back to. And for the record, being a guy’s first is hot.”

“It is?”

“It really, really is. And you’re not old. You’re actually kind of perfect, if I’m honest. If you weren’t so wasted, I would not be saying no.”

John grinned. He still had it, even when he was shit-faced. “Good to know.”

“You should close your eyes and sleep it off for the drive back to base. Gate travel is no fun drunk.”

“Good idea.” John settled into the seat and pulled the jacket he’d borrowed around him. No DADT to worry about. Just him and Ronon. And a bed. A bed would definitely be necessary. And nakedness. Lots and lots of nakedness for as long as they both shall live.

“Are you sure you’re up to this, Colonel?” John looked at Landry through the one eye he could keep open without feeling dizzy.

“I’ll be fine. It’s no different to going through with a concussion.”

“Okay, then.”

John attempted a salute before ambling through the gate. He regretted the advice not to wait a few more hours immediately his stomach was ripped from his body and his head shoved metaphorically up his ass. He lurched into Midway, staggered a few paces and collapsed. He was sure he saw Ronon’s face swim into view just as his vision blacked out.

John could hear rumbling dulled voices. His throat was parched, and his brain felt like it was trying to escape through his eye sockets. “How long have I been out?” he managed to say without bothering to open his eyes or sit up.

“An hour or so.” Ronon’s deep base sounded good even with the rumba going on between his ears. “You’re an idiot.”

“So it seems.”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I kind of wasn’t. Or rather I was thinking too much and needed to find the antidote.”

“What happened to not bailing on me?”

That got John’s attention, and he opened his eyes to search out Ronon’s face. “I didn’t bail on you. Is that what you think?”

“You were gone.” His face was blank, but his eyes couldn’t hide the hurt. Hurt John had put there. “Not just from Atlantis. You left for another universe, John. What the hell am I supposed to think?”

John forced himself to sit up. Whoever Ronon had been talking to when he’d first come around had disappeared and they were alone. “You’re supposed to realise I was conflicted because I love you.”

“Conflicted? How much did you drink?” The bitter edge to Ronon’s voice broke John’s heart.

“I’m serious, Ronon. I had to get away to think about what you’d said. Keller said…Jennifer thought…thinks you’re in love with me, like True Love in love.” Ronon looked at his boots but gave nothing away. “I was…angry.” Ronon’s gaze snapped up. “That we could both love each other that way but not be allowed to be together because of stupid military rules.”

Silent standoff. They were both wary, and John hated it. Hated they were trying to hide from each other.

“Is there a but?” Ronon said, eventually.

John reached out and took Ronon’s hand. “I realised I don’t give a flying fuck about Earth rules.” He tugged at Ronon’s hand, bringing him closer to the bed, and lifting Ronon’s hand to kiss his fingers. “And then I found out it didn’t matter anymore anyway because those rules are now obsolete.”

“You say so much without actually saying anything.” Ronon was hovering dangerously close to John, tendrils of hope seeping out of him, and John reached up to cup his face.

“I love you, Ronon. I want to be with you. What more do I need to say?” and he pulled Ronon down into their first kiss. Soft, gentle, and god damned perfect. Something clicked into place inside John’s chest that he hadn’t known for sure had been missing.

When Ronon pulled away his gaze stayed with John’s. “You really mean that?” There was a hint of playfulness around the corners of his eyes and John relaxed a fraction. “Because I’m Satedan, John. I don’t do that transitory, maybe a decade crap you Earthers seem to go for. I’m all or nothing.”

John smiled. “Well, I can’t say you’re still going to feel that way in a decade when I’m old and chubby.”

“Growing old together is a gift from the gods themselves in this universe, John. It’s not something anyone takes lightly.”

The sound of his name on Ronon’s lips was too good, and it stirred things deep in places he’d kept hidden for too long. It made him brave. Brave enough to say the things he normally never could. “I can’t ever imagine a time when I won’t want to be with you, Chewy. A decade is nowhere near long enough. I’m not even sure a lifetime will do it.”

Ronon kissed him again. Slow and easy, like they had forever. “Get some rest because you’re going to need it later.” He quirked a smile.

“About that.” Ronon raised an eyebrow. “I, uh…” John wanted to crawl away and hide. The room was suddenly hot and lacking air, his brow prickled with sweat. “I’ve kind of never…you know, with a guy before.”

“We have the rest of our lives, John. We don’t have to everything today.”

“Oh, we do. I’ve waited too long to take a chance you’ll change your mind.”

“Not going to happen.” Ronon brushed the pad of his thumb over John’s jawline and John shuddered. “Ever. And I may have a little more experience. Not much, I admit,” he shrugged, “but it’s still been almost ten years for me John, with anyone.”

“Wow, that is…Mendez was right, that is so hot.”

“Who the hell is Mendez?” The jealous growl made John smile.

“Someone who helped me see what was right. I didn’t touch him, I swear. From now on, I’ll never touch another.”

“That’s more like it.” Ronon kissed him again, the lightest touch of lips, and turned to leave.

“Ronon?” He turned back, and his smile blinded John momentarily. “Why were you at Midway?”

Ronon grimaced. “Wolsey sent me to wait for you.”

“Ugh, is he pissed?”

“Worse. He’s disappointed. Upset you’d leave Atlantis without talking to him. He was wearing his kicked puppy face.”

“Oh, god.” John cringed at the thought of having to explain the situation to anyone, let alone Wolsey. The man looked ready to burst into tears if someone farted wrong. “I’d rather have a new one ripped by Landry than deal with a disappointed suit. Is that who you were talking to earlier?”

Ronon nodded. “He said for you to call in when you’re feeling up to it. He was all understanding and shit.”

“Crap. Well, that’s going to be never.” Ronon chuffed a laugh before turning to leave. “Where are you going?”

“To make preparations.” John blushed. “For us to move into shared quarters, John. We’ll need a large bed, more space.”

“A bigger bed will definitely be a good idea.” He pushed back the covers, but Ronon held up a hand to pause him. “I want to help.”

“You’re seriously dehydrated.” Ronon motioned to the drip John hadn’t consciously noticed he was attached to. “You need to rest. I’ll come back for you when everything is ready. To take you home.”

“Home?”

“To our home.” He watched Ronon leave with what was almost a spring in his step and John lay back in the bed and closed his eyes. Wolsey was a bit of a thorn in his side but the rest of it? He shuddered at the memory of Ronon’s lips on his. Oh, yeah, the rest of it he could definitely get used to. He may think twice before going through the gate drunk again, but a few hours in medical at the other end…all worth it to be able to call somewhere home. Someone home. Truest Love. Soul mate. Ronon.

Chapter Text

Ronon had been gifted with so many riches in his life. Sure, people looked at him and saw loss and desolation, and yeah, he felt that loss deep in his bones every hour of every day, but it didn’t take away the good memories. He’d had a full life before the war kicked up a notch. Friends, family, a career. It was funny, really, nobody here, no one who knew him now considered him as anything other than a warrior, some caveman soldier. But he’d had a life outside the military. He’d had friends, family, nieces and nephews he taught to hunt and fight. He had hobbies and interests that extended beyond killing Wraith. He liked to cook, to craft with wood and leather, to build homes for his friends, and he loved to write, to play music, to travel his world from the highest mountain peaks to the deepest lakes and valleys. John saw that side of him even if he didn’t know the detail. John had always been able to see through the tough outer skin to the soft underbelly of Ronon’s being. That’s how Ronon knew John was worthy of his heart. That’s how Ronon knew he was ready to build a new life, a new home, a new family.
He looked around the room, the largest of the collection of rooms he would now share with John. It was sparse, but comfortable. A blank slate for them to grow into together. The walls were warmer here in the family designated area of the city. He could hear the echo of children’s laughter in these halls, unlike the cold functional area of the city taken up by military personnel. The allocation of such a large unit had been a gift in itself. Unnecessary, but Wolsey had insisted. John was the Military Commander, he’d said, and as such should be rewarded for his commitment to Atlantis. He’d also talked about setting a good example, putting down roots, moving on from single, transitory quarters to something that showed everyone in the city things here were permanent. Wolsey had talked at length, as he often did about anything and everything, about wanting to make Atlantis more homely, to encourage its new inhabitants to think of it less as an expedition, and more like a lifelong colony. Ronon had listened. For once Wolsey’s ramblings spoke to something deep inside him that longed for those days gone by of late-night laughter and family gatherings, of celebration, and passion, and a life full of promise.

Sateda had been one of the few largely industrial planets in the galaxy. The people had refused to allow the threat of Wraith culling to dampen their spirit, their creativity, their drive for a better world. From what he had seen of Earth, their communities had been similar. Sure, Sateda was smaller, with a population less than a single country in John’s world, but they functioned in a similar way with technology, hospitals, even holidays. Things Teila’s people had never known. Would possibly never know.

He walked through to the bedroom for one last look before collecting John from medical. The large bed was dressed with crisp white sheets and a handful of colourful blankets he’d collected during trading missions to various worlds. He hadn’t wanted to pack up John’s room for him, but he had brought the book from his nightstand and his alarm clock, a collection of music cd’s with the player, a handful of John’s favourite films, and some clothes. The stage was set. His heart hammered in his chest thinking of what would unfold here later that evening. He’d stocked their private kitchen with ready prepared food from the mess, beer, some wine, which Ronon preferred and John always teased him about. It wasn’t quite a home yet, but there was promise. Promise of a future together, a promise to each other that they would finally allow themselves to explore, to map each other’s bodies, to find heights and depths of pleasure at each other’s hands.

Ronon shook himself out. Pressed a firm hand against the thickening length in his pants and closed his eyes briefly. It had been a long time. Too long. If John hadn’t been one of the first Lantean’s Ronon had met, he’d have been tempted to find a Day Lover or two to tide him over, to remind him of how good his body could feel in the hands of another. But something in John had called to Ronon that very first day. Something in the casual way he’d dealt with being held captive, the way he’d fought for his team, worried for his fallen comrade addicted to the Wraith enzyme, the way he’d bartered for Ronon’s freedom without even knowing him because it was the right thing to do. John may be from Earth, but he had a Satedan heart. Ronon had taken time to watch, to catalogue, and finally to accept that John was worth a lifetime of waiting. He’d thought he’d lost him along the way, caught up in rules and obligations Ronon didn’t understand and he’d allowed John to push him towards Keller. His heart had never been in it, and she knew. She knew with the very first kiss Ronon would never be hers. He needed to thank her for being strong enough to stand up for what she deserved. What they both deserved. Without that, without her calling time, refusing to ignore the obvious…well, it wasn’t worth thinking about. Time to go collect his prise.

John’s legs were shaky as they left the transporter. “Where are we, exactly?”

“North citadel. We have a great view of the city from the balcony.”

“We have a balcony?”

“A big one. And several rooms. Our own kitchen. Do you cook?”

“Can’t say that I do.” He slowed to a stop, whether it was anxiety or adrenaline, he couldn’t tell.

“What is it?”

“Ronon, you have to know I want this, but isn’t this all happening a bit fast?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yesterday we were skipping around each other, and you were dating someone else. Now we’re moving in together?”

Ronon edged closer, all endless patience and understanding, and John wanted to punch him. “This is one of those Earth things, isn’t it? What did McKay call it…fear of commitment?”

“I’m not afraid to…when did you speak to Rodney?” John huffed. “It doesn’t matter, that’s not it.” Not all of it, anyway. It was part of it, John could occasionally be honest with himself. “But, hell, we haven’t even had sex yet. What if we don’t like it?” Ronon laughed. Actually laughed. And John wanted to punch him again. “Yeah, ha ha. I don’t know what to do, Ronon.” He hated how silly it sounded, but it was the truth, and it worried him. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. Not with Ronon. Not with the one person he didn’t doubt he loved with every ounce of himself. “I don’t know how to be with you. And I don’t just mean in bed.” He sighed. There was so much he wanted to say but he didn’t know where to start. If he should even try. “I’ve been married before, remember. It was a disaster. I don’t,” John felt a tide of emotion welling up. “I don’t want us to ever be like that. I don’t ever want to be like that, not with you, Chewy. I can’t…”

“Hey, hey…” Ronon wrapped John up in strong arms and nuzzled into his neck. “We can take this a day at a time, John.”

“But it’s not a day at a time, is it? This is like a huge deal for you, and I want that, I do, I just don’t know how to…not mess it up.”

Ronon stepped back, his expression considered. “I think you’re looking at this the wrong way.”

“I’m listening.”

“There is nothing to mess up.” Ronon ran a finger over John’s cheek and smiled. “It’s a done deal as far as I’m concerned. Non-negotiable. Like being born Satedan. You can’t mess it up. You can’t do something stupid one day and you’re not Satedan anymore.”

John thought about that for a moment. He’d done plenty of stupid things in his life, would any of them have risked the complicated mess of feeling and emotion he had for Ronon? No. so why had it fallen apart with Nancy? Because she didn’t know him, didn’t want to know him, expected things he didn’t have the capacity to give. Had Ronon ever done that, ever hinted at any of that? No. “Okay, I can work with that, I guess. But it doesn’t change the fact I don’t know how to…” he waved his arms in Ronon’s direction, “make you feel good.”

Ronon stepped in close, pressing John lightly against the wall, breathing into his neck. “Sure you do, John.” He took hold of John’s hand and placed it on his own hip before dragging it over his crotch, down to his thigh and back. John shuddered feeling the bulge in Ronon’s pants, and his heart thumped a little faster. “You’ve had lovers before, John. You know how to make a lover feel good, how to read their body. From what I’ve heard of your reputation, you have always been very...thorough, an accomplished lover.”

“Who told you that?”

Ronon smirked. “And you have a cock of your own, so I know you know what feels good when you touch and stroke one.”

“That is true.” A very fat, heavy, trapped cock, that was more than a little interested in every breath, every touch of Ronon’s hands.

“So what are you worried about?”

“I don’t want to disappoint you. I…”

“Not going to happen.” Ronon kissed along his jaw to the corner of his mouth. “Not even possible.” And he dived in for a deep, dirty kiss, full of teeth and tongue, and John couldn’t hold back the whimper, or the automatic reflex of his hands over Ronon’s body, a hand in his hair pulling him down, and one on his ass, pulling him closer. Ronon chuckled against him. “I don’t think we’re going to have a problem, do you?”

“No,” John grinned despite himself and his nerves, “definitely not.”

“So, can we go home now? There is a very nice meal, and a very large bed waiting for us.”

John felt himself flush, his face burning with anticipation and just a hint of embarrassment. “Do we have to take it in that order?”

“We can take it anyway you want to, John. Anyway at all.”

Chapter Text

John felt as though he’d found the best drug in the universe. This one and his own. Sex with Ronon…sex with someone who knew you, the real you, who wanted to be only for you…it was life changing. Revolutionary. Empowering. Exhausting.

Woolsey had given them three days off work, and they were hiding out in their new home discovering each other. It was a revelation and it was also terrifying. Terrifying by how quickly everything had fallen into place as though it had always been. Casual touches, once forbidden that John hadn’t realised he’d been holding back, now just happened naturally. He’d never done that. Never wanted to. It had driven Nancy crazy, that he wouldn’t hold hands or put an arm around her in public. PDA had passed him by but now his body knew Ronon’s he couldn’t stop making that physical connection, even if it was only sitting thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder to watch a film. And he was worried. He was worried it would happen when they left the comfort and safety of their new home, that he would still reach out to touch when they were working, when they were off world, and he didn’t know how to deal with that, how to process whether it was appropriate, even whether he wanted to share what they had with the rest of the world. There was no fragility to it, but it still felt…private, and he didn’t want to inadvertently splash it around and somehow dilute its power and intensity, its specialness. And then that made him feel stupid.

Ronon was just Ronon, taking everything in his stride. All long lean muscle lounging around and smiling when he caught John looking at him. The hands John had only known as weapons were surprisingly gentle and yet firm when dishing out pleasure John had never known was possible. He looked at Ronon’s hands in a new way now. In naughty, delicious ways that made his head spin. Those long slender fingers that played his body, reached into places that, well… How was he supposed to concentrate at work when he saw those hands? Or the way leather pants hugged Ronon’s ass when John knew how that ass looked eager and ready for his cock, knowing how Ronon sounded when he came, or the look on his face, the tension in his shoulders just before release. Yup, John was never going to be able to go back to work. He was going to have to resign as Military Commander and beg a job as a cleaner.

“You’re doing it again.” John startled out of his daydream to find Ronon grinning at him. “You wander. Where were you?”

“Wondering how not to fondle your ass when we’re out on missions or think about your cock in my mouth when we’re negotiating trade deals.”

“Ah…” Ronon’s smile was glorious, and it warmed John’s heart to know he’d put it there. That he’d unwrapped parts of Ronon nobody had seen in a very long time. “It’ll be OK,” Ronon said. “I think we should brave the mess hall today. We go back to work tomorrow, and we’ve been very insular the last few days. Then you’ll see it won’t be a problem.”

“What if I don’t want to share you yet?”

“You don’t ever have to share me, John.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Is that really it, or are you worried about people knowing?” Ronon tilted his head a fraction to get a read on John’s reaction.

John knew what he was asking. They hadn’t talked about it yet. About DADT. About how John had always known he liked men but had hidden it. Ignored it. “I’m not going to pretend it’s going to be easy for me. Years of Military conditioning, of hiding this side of myself isn’t going to be undone overnight. It’s unlikely I’ll ever be out and proud, but I’m not embarrassed or ashamed of this.”

“I know,” Ronon said. “But I also understand there are some odd stigmas attached to same sex couples for Earthers. It’s one of the things that highlights how alien your people are. That, and all the casual sex you people have.”

“There was really no problem with it on Sateda?”

“It’s one of the strangest things I see in your culture.” Ronon stretched out, and John couldn’t help follow the shape of his bicep as it curled back behind his head as a pillow against the wall. “The idea, the thought of love being confined, dictated, or wrong in certain circumstances, it just didn’t exist so it’s odd to hear phrases like ‘free to love who you want’ because why would that ever be in question?” Ronon sat up straighter on the sofa where he’d been lounging, uncurling said bicep and placing his hands in his lap. “I’ve had the distinct feeling that your people are surprised that ‘such a warrior class’ as Satedans,” he used air parentheses to get across his point and it made John smile, “would entertain same sex relationships but I don’t know what they are implying with the comment because why wouldn’t we?”

“Hang on, are you telling me someone has actually said that to you?”

“Not to my face. I heard them say it as I walked out of the kitchens on one of the food runs.”

“And you didn’t say anything, you didn’t report it or confront them?”

Ronon shrugged. “Why would I? I just thought it was odd. Like advertising their own ignorance of the concept of True Love, of any love other than that dictated by your authorities on Earth.”

“Well…”

“And Pansy,” Ronon continued. “What is a Pansy, anyway?”

John felt sick. “Someone called you a Pansy?”

“I heard one of the scientists say he was surprised I would turn out to be a Pansy. Is that a bad thing? Should I be tracking him down and thumping him?”

John sighed. “A Pansy is just a flower. An Earth flower. But he was using it as a derogatory term to insinuate you are effeminate. Although Pansies are actually quite hardy flowers.”

“I still don’t understand.” And John finally realised that Ronon really didn’t, because if he did…if he actually understood what the men had been saying, well, he’d have ripped their heads off for even thinking it. “What is effeminate?”

“Like a woman, feminine.”

“And that is bad in your culture, for a man to be like a woman? Does that not imply that a woman is somehow less?”

John felt unsteady. It was dangerous territory and he didn’t know how conditioned he still was with ridiculous prejudices he would never understand. All he could hear was Nancy complaining about male privilege and how he’d never know what it was like to be a woman. “You’re right. We are an alien culture. We have outdated cultural values that shape the way we view each other based on gender.” John thought for a moment about how best to explain at least a little of what was going on. “On Sateda were there roles that were taken on by women, and others that were predominantly for men?”

Ronon’s brow crinkled as he thought and John wanted to smooth it out with his finger, and then his tongue. He was merrily following his fantasy when Ronon’s words brought him back to focus. “Women were the only ones who could carry children, obviously. Other than that, there was nothing assigned specifically to gender. What kind of roles do you mean?” Ronon looked perplexed. “Wait, are you saying the reason so few of the marines are women is because your culture dictates the role of a warrior is more for men?”

He looked so horrified John wanted to laugh. “Well, yeah, I guess. The Military has always been predominately men. Historically, women tend to the home and men go out to fight and hunt. Not all the time, or in all cultures, but in my country that is still quite often the case.”

Ronon shook his head. “Makes no sense to me. I see that some of your women are smaller, look kind of fragile, but then so do some of the men here. Satedan women are…were…like me, you, Teyla. Unless…well, we did protect women on Sateda because of their ability to birth children. If a woman wanted to have a family her status was elevated and she was looked after, I guess, in order that we would continue to grow and thrive as a community through Wraith culling. But that ability to birth a child, to go through that process, the pain, the sacrifice…how could that ever be seen as less than anything a man is capable of? It’s easy to kill, but to give the gift of new life? To birth a whole new person you’ve grown inside you…”

“Well, it’s kind of the other way around on Earth. Birthing children, getting pregnant, having to take time out of a career to have babies is kind of seen as a weakness on Earth. And that’s before you even get into the whole unwanted pregnancy thing.”

“Unwanted? How…oh, it’s all the casual sex I suppose.” Ronon crinkled his brow again. “But surely life is always a gift and if you didn’t want children wouldn’t you ensure it didn’t happen? I mean, your medical technology is quite advanced isn’t it? Surely you can prevent women from falling pregnant if they are not planning a family.”

“It sounds easy when you say it like that, but we’re a complicated lot on Earth. I’ll take you there for our next R&R, you can spend some time observing. I think it will change the way you see the people here.”

“Are they different, somehow?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, I know they represent many countries, but they are all…” John didn’t know how to express geeks or nerds. And that was predominantly what the people on the Atlantis expedition were--geeks and military. There were so many more groups and cultures on Earth he couldn’t even think what to say. Where did you start with dictators, drug lords, oligarchs, the many indigenous peoples who could never be represented on an expedition like Atlantis, or slave traders—though there were slavers in Pegasus—or emos, goths, and bikers, bankers and politicians…just too much to explain. Ronon would have to see it to believe it anyway. “Let’s just say they are not a representative cross section of the peoples of Earth. Not even a fraction.”

“It still doesn’t explain your weird hang ups about love and sex, or men and women.”

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t think anything can.”

“But if I hear someone call me a Pansy, I should thump them, right?”

“Maybe not. Just, uh, just figure out who it is and let me know. I’ll deal with it in a more official way.”

“You have an official way to…”

“Just tell me, and I’ll sort it.” John sat astride Ronon’s thighs and nestled into Ronon’s palms as Ronon cupped his ass. “In the meantime, I think we should regroup before facing the world.”

“Again, already?”

“Just one more time…and then we’ll search out some food together.” And he leaned in to devour Ronon’s smile in a kiss, fingers threading through his dreads to hold him still, so John could forget for a little while longer the obligations waiting for him outside their little bubble of perfect.

Chapter Text

“Where the hell have you been?” Rodney was a complete blend of frustration and worry. “Days I’ve been searching for you. Nobody would tell me anything.”

“Hello, Rodney.” John turned to face him. He hadn’t even made it to the mess hall but given the look on Rodney’s face it was probably lucky the conversation could be contained in semi-private.

“One minute I hear you’re gone from Atlantis, then you’re in the infirmary. By the time I got there you were gone again. I even went to Woolsey and he said you were taking a few days off, but you weren’t in your room.”

“Okay, slow down, Rodney. I’m here now, and I’m back to work tomorrow.”

“I looked for you.” The hurt on his face tore at Sheppard.

“I have been taking time off.”

“Are you sick? I went to your room, John. And it looks like you’ve moved out. I finagled the lock when you wouldn’t answer and had a poke around in there.”

“You broke into my place?”

“Oh, don’t look so scandalised. You aren’t even living there anymore, and what was I supposed to do, I was worried. Man mountain over there has been avoiding me, Teyla was pleading the fifth even though I'm not sure she even knows what that means, and you weren’t even on comms.” Rodney stopped to take a breath. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t fill you in before now, but things have been a little…crazy.”

“So, you’re okay?”

“I’m okay. More than okay, actually. And yes, before you ask, I’ve moved quarters. We’re…” he turned to Ronon, “Where are we again?”

Before Ronon could answer, Rodney chimed in. “He got to move as well? Why didn’t I get offered a new room? Are they bigger, do you have a view? How did you manage that?”

“Look, some things have changed, and circumstances have led to…” but he ran out of words. Rodney was still mumbling about not being considered for larger quarters and he couldn’t, he just couldn’t say it. Why couldn’t he tell Rodney he was living with Ronon? Failing at the first hurdle. He wanted to slink away, no, he wanted to bolt. And then he felt Ronon step in close, strong hand at the small of his back and the fear drained out of him. “We moved together.”

Rodney stopped his grumblings and looked up. “What?”

“Ronon and I moved together. To a bigger place. Together,” he added again.

“So, what, you’re roommates now? Why didn’t you ask me? You know I hate that box they gave me.”

Ronon leaned past John’s shoulder and spoke directly into Rodney’s ear. “Because he isn’t fucking you, McKay.”

“He’s not what now?” And then the penny dropped, and the colour drained out of Rodney’s face, followed by confusion, followed by a mottled ruddy glow that really didn’t look good. John braced himself. It would hurt, if it turned out Rodney was against this, but they would deal with it. They would deal with it, and John would find a new friend. “You’re living together, together? Since when? And I’m sorry, but how is that even possible? Less than a week ago, he,” Rodney jabbed into the air at Ronon, “was dating Jennifer, and now you’re telling me you live together?”

“I know it all seems a bit fast…”

“Fast? You think?”

“Rodney, will you stop?” He did, and just stared. He didn’t understand. How could he? John didn’t understand it himself. But he knew it was right. “We love each other, Rodney. And I know that probably sounds unlikely given that Ronon was with someone else, but the truth is we’ve loved each other for a long time. It just took something drastic to make me…well, let’s just say…”

“I’m not stupid, John. You two have been dancing around each other ever since he arrived. I just thought, you know, you would have said something. To me at least. I’m your friend, John. You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out I am stupid, and I didn’t realise. What this was.” He waved a hand between him and Ronon. “But now I do, and we’re together.”

“Right.” Rodney straightened out his jacket. “Well, are you going to be having a housewarming then? When do I get to see the new place?” They started walking along the hall towards the mess. “Are there anymore rooms along there I could move into or is it families only? You aren’t going to get married, are you? I hate weddings. I’m always the one left at the table without a dance partner.”

John patted Rodney on the shoulder, allowing the relief to settle into his bones. One down, the rest of Atlantis to go. “No plans to get married just yet, Rodney.” And just like that it was all okay.

Chapter Text

Except it wasn’t okay. Not even a little bit. The mess hall was busy with long-lunchers gossiping and wasting time. The hush that settled as John, Ronon, and Rodney joined what was left of the queue for food was palpable.

“Ignore it,” Ronon said quietly, aware as always of John’s thoughts before he’d fully processed them himself. Rodney, oblivious to the more subtle social context in the room, carried on with his own conversation, and it struck John how very pleasant living in Rodney’s world must be.

John did his best to follow Ronon’s advice, and the chatter did start up again, though he had the feeling much of it was now about him. And Ronon. And no doubt, the surprise of pansies in Atlantis.

Having settled at a table on the very edge of the room—a tactic Ronon always preferred—there were the occasional waves, and acknowledgements from military and past conquests. John wondered whether Ronon really did know his reputation and how many of those ladies were waiting for round number two, or three, or ten. But then of course he did. Ronon wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise. That was the thing with being able to blend into the furniture, disguise your existence, you got to hear things. Like women discussing John’s bedroom talk, or that Satedans shouldn’t be pansies.

Rodney’s fork clattered to his plate. “What is it with you? I’m speeding talking here, and you’ve barely taken in a word. I know I may not be riveting company compared to the regular entertainment you now have on tap, but…” His face contorted. “Ow…what was that for?”

“Shut up, McKay,” Ronon growled, and Rodney huffed.

“You don’t own him, you know. I’m still entitled to…”

John placed a hand on the table to get Rodney’s attention. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Well, yes, haven’t I been trying to engage you in words?”

“You said you didn’t know where I was. What was going on?” Rodney’s brow creased. “Just now. You said nobody would tell you anything.”

“Yeah, well, it turns out I don’t hold as much sway as I thought I did around here. It’s very frustrating.”

“But didn’t you hear people talking?”

“About what?”

Ronon stroked a firm hand along John’s thigh. “I’m not sure this is the best idea.”

“Actually, I’d like to know.”

Rodney huffed. “Know what?”

“Rodney, I know you don’t always understand the…subtle undertones of…”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in.”

“But people knew, Rodney. About me. Ronon. About us being together. And, granted, they may not have known where our new rooms are…”

“You have more than one room?”

“It’s more of an apartment, really.”

“Well, I’ll be…”

“Focus, Rodney. What I’m saying is, Ronon here, was subjected to a few, admittedly tame slurs about the nature of our relationship.” Still weird, being in a relationship, but at least he’d got the word out this time. “I’m just wondering how you didn’t…know.”

“Really?” Rodney looked genuinely mystified. “I can’t imagine anyone taunting Ronon, let alone about something so…personal. Besides, what I would have heard about is the bloodshed that resulted.”

“Yeah, well, when you come from a planet that doesn’t have weird hang up’s like we do, you don’t always recognise what someone is saying to you. Or about you.”

“Okay, I have no idea where this conversation is going, or what exactly it is you’re asking me. If you’re suggesting I’ve heard people gossiping or making homophobic comments about this new thing of yours, then you’re wrong. But then people are probably sensible enough,” he raised his voice a little and twisted to address the mess hall at large, “to keep their outdated prejudices, or inappropriate humour to themselves when I’m around, because it will be reported, and it will incur a one-way ticket off this base.”

“Okay, okay, there’s no need for that.”

“You don’t have a problem with people having a problem? We’re supposed to be creating a forward-thinking outpost for humanity here, not some back-water hick house where ‘the old ways are the best’. It’s ridiculous.”

Ronon snorted. “Says the man who flipped out when there was no jello for a month.”

“That,” Rodney brandished his fork in Ronon’s direction, “is different. What were they saying anyway? And who was stupid enough to get caught even thinking it. I can imagine Woolsey being really firm about something like that. It really would be a one-way ticket.”

“Just some of the scientists.” John squeezed Ronon’s knee. “They called Ronon a pansy.”

Rodney’s spoon clattered to the table this time. He twisted in his seat. “Really, a pansy?” he asked the room. “Ronon, of all people. Your military commander, who’s saved your asses more times than I care to remember, and that’s the thanks he gets?”

“Rodney…” The hush in the room was stifling.

“No, it’s insulting to think I have to work with these people. They’ll be insinuating Teyla isn’t suitable for duty next, or that we shouldn’t have female marines, hell, they may as well just send all the women home right now and chain them to the kitchen sink.”

“I think you’ve made your point.”

“I hope so, because discriminatory language is not acceptable at any level on this base.” Rodney leaned across the table. “I’m not discriminatory, am I?” he said in a lowered voice.

“Not really,” John said. “I mean, you think everyone else is beneath you, but I think that’s classed as something else.”

“Right, that’s okay then. You’d tell me though, right, if I was?”

“Sure.”

Rodney straightened again. “So that,” he said to the room, “is going to be the last of any kind of nonsense. We are in a different galaxy, people. It’s time to embrace a new mindset and stop living in the 1950’s.”

“1950’s?” Ronon’s brow creased again. “Is that code for something?”

“It’s code for discriminatory thinking and being afraid of anything that’s remotely different.” Rodney stabbed his fork into his food. “If people want to cling to that they should go back to earth.”

“It’s an era in our history,” John added. “You, know, a calendar decade.”

“Oh, I know. Rock and Roll, Elvis, Buddy Holly, Marilyn Monroe.”

“How do you know about Marilyn Monroe?”

“Lorne. He likes Rock and Roll. Always going on about the 50’s. I didn’t put it together straight away. I like Buddy Holly’s music.”

“Well, aren’t you full of surprises,” Rodney said around a mouthful of potatoes. “So when’s the house warming? Should we bring gifts?”

“Whoa, slow down. I never said anything about a housewarming.”

“Why not? Just me, and Teyla. Lorne maybe.”

“It’s a good idea,” Ronon said. “I can prepare some food. Isn’t that what friends do? What life outside war is supposed to be?”

John searched for something, anything against the idea, but Ronon was right. On earth, that’s exactly what they would do. On Sateda too. “Okay. We’ll look at the schedule and see when we have the next day off.”

“Great,” Rodney said. “I’ll get Teyla to come to the market with me. Any particular colour scheme you have going on?”

Ronon smiled, genuine, beautiful. It took John a moment to tune back into the conversation.

“Neutrals it is then.” Rodney stood, taking his tray. “I’ll drop by later if it’s okay. Just to have a look around.” Ronon nodded, and they watched Rodney leave.

“You sure about this?” John asked.

“It’ll be nice to do something normal. We’re building a life, right?”

“Yes, we are.” And John leaned in to place a chaste kiss to Ronon’s lips.

Chapter Text

It’s funny how life just gets on with itself, even after major changes. The new normal saw little difference to their daily routines other than falling into bed together at the end of the day. And wasn’t that something. They were still having sex most days—because they could—but mostly just the once now. John’s body was pliable and sated in a way he’d never experienced before. It seemed like he moved differently, in the field, in the training room, just walking around. So much tension from life just gone. And everything seemed brighter. Colours stood out against the greyness of the city, took on a vibrancy that floored him sometimes. The stained glass, the sound of the ocean, the richness of the trees and forests on the planets they visited. The smell of earth and rain on the breeze, the freshness of rivers that rushed and streams that babbled. Everything had dialled up to ten. Life was pretty fucking amazing.

So, of course something would come out of left field to kick him in the nuts.

He stood before the gate, bag in hand, waiting for the activation so he could step through to Earth. John hadn’t seen his father in years. And now he was gone. He didn’t know how to deal with that.

A familiar presence fell inline next to him. Ronon.

“Where are you going?”

“With you.”

John stood a little taller knowing he didn’t have to face his brother alone.

John felt more out of place in the company of his father’s—what were they to him? He didn’t even know—than on any of the Pegasus planets he’d visited over the years. He crossed the lawn, Ronon beside him as the one constant in his world and wondered what his father would think of all these people trampling the grass. They paused twenty feet away from the first groups of people and John wasn’t sure he could go any further.

“Are you okay?”

He smiled, warmed by Ronon’s genuine concern. “Just…stay close, okay?” John wanted to touch, to feel Ronon’s strength under his hand, and why shouldn’t he? These people didn’t know him, wouldn’t care. He was about to reach out when he saw a familiar face walking towards him. David. His brother.

“John.” At least he smiled.

“Dave.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it.” John sighed but played the usual game of talking while not saying anything until Dave’s glances in Ronon’s direction became too pointed to ignore.

“This is Ronon. Ronon this is my brother, Dave.”

Dave cast a glance over Ronon and snorted. “And, what, he works with you? In the Airforce?”

“He’s a civilian contra… No, do you know what? I’m tired of playing games. The old man isn’t around anymore. Ronon is my…my husband, or at least he will be soon.” Ronon raised an eyebrow. “Consider that your proposal.”

“Is that right?”

John faltered. “You…you do want to, right? I mean…” Well, shit. But then Ronon’s face cracked into a glorious smile and the deep rumbling chuckle that escaped his chest as he lifted John off his feet and kissed his cheek made everything right in the world. “Okay, okay, Chewie, put me down.”

Ronon plopped John back on his feet and turned to Dave. “Sorry, I know this is supposed to be a solemn occasion but,” he slapped Dave on the shoulder, “we’re getting married.” He practically squeed the last part and John laughed.

“Thank you,” Dave said, offering his hand to Ronon and giving what seemed to be a heartfelt shake, taking Ronon’s hand in both of his. “There hasn’t been much to make me smile these last few weeks, but this…this is good news.” He smiled at John. “I’m happy for you, John. Happy to know you aren’t out there alone, wherever ‘there’ is.” He touched John’s shoulder. “We should…”

“Talk, I know.”

“Later.” And then he was gone.

Ronon turned on John, all smiles that didn’t reach his eyes. “You have five minutes to tell me what that was all about, and ten to take back your proposal and us still be okay if the purpose is just to shock your brother and his pretentious, conservative friends.”

“No, what? No…” John thought his heart would just shatter. “Ronon, being here, with these people…it just reminds me I’ve never belonged. And having you…” He took Ronon’s hand. “You’re my world, Chewie. Everything I want, everything that keeps me…me. Why would you think I’d hurt you just to get to these people?”

“So, it’s real?”

“As real as I am standing here trying not to fall apart at the thought you might not want me.”

“There isn’t a galaxy in this universe where I wouldn’t want you, John.” This time the smile reached his eyes, and John hugged him tight, not wanting to let go. Not now. Not ever. “But I don’t think you understand exactly what you’re getting yourself into.”

John pulled back. “What do you mean?”

“Satedan marriage customs are a little different to the more…transitory promises you make on Earth.”

“How so?” John said around the knot forming in his stomach.

“A conversation for later.” Ronon rubbed a hand over John’s upper arm. “Today is about you saying goodbye to your father.”

He milled around not really talking to anyone, stood over the deep satin polish of his father’s coffin, his own reflection staring back at him, and wondered for the hundredth time what his dad would think of Ronon…the truth of his life, his sexuality, his work. Nothing had made sense at home. His father had never made sense. Always so angry and disapproving. John could never be like that. Not that he’d ever have kids now, but back when he thought he might, well, he’d promised his unborn children they could grow up to be whatever and with whomever they wanted. Period.

Finding himself back on the lawn, the anxiety easing with just him and Ronon, he thought back to the good times he’d had at the house. There weren’t many, but enough to stir something inside of him.

But even that wasn’t destined to last. His stomached dropped. “Oh, shit. I told you I had an ex-wife, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because that’s her.” He nodded towards Nancy. She was smiling as she walked towards them. Why was she smiling? Smiling was never a good start.

“John,” she said giving him a gentle squeeze.

“What are you doing here, Nancy?”

“Your father was always good to me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the one thing he thought I did right. Marrying you.” She glanced at Ronon, who’d stepped away a little. “This is Ronon. Ronon,” John placed a hand to the small of Ronon’s back and pulled him into the conversation. “This is Nancy.”

“The ex-wife,” she added, taking in the way John was still touching Ronon. Before John could say anything, Ronon held out his hand.

“The husband-to-be,” he said curtly. He was smiling, but there was a coldness. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh, dear. None of it good, I’m sure.” She looked at John. “Evil witch who took him for every penny?”

“Not that I recall.”

Interest peeked, she looked back at Ronon, head tilted in the way she did when she was trying to solve a puzzle. Usually relating to what John was thinking. “That’s a surprise.”

“More a case of ‘good while it lasted, uncomfortable when it broke down’.”

“Interesting summary.”

John was floundering for something to say. Ronon had let rip more words than John had heard him say to anyone other than himself, and Nancy…it seemed she didn’t know what to make of him.

She turned to John. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“About what?”

“He’s young.” She gave Ronon a longer look, raking over his body, and John bit down on his words. “Beautiful though,” she added. “Very aesthetically pleasing.”

“I’m older than I look,” Ronon said. “And I need to be fit to keep up with John in bed.” He smirked at Nancy’s blush.

“Now, now, sweetie, remember to play nice,” John said.

“Yes, Honey, of course.” Ronon swept him into a heated kiss that left John flustered. He straightened his suit.

“It was nice to see you, John.” Her expression suggested otherwise, and John wondered why she was really here. There was always an agenda with her. “I’m glad you’re finally happy.”

“I am definitely that,” he said, squeezing Ronon’s hand and taking a moment to appreciate the direction his life had taken. “Definitely, that.”

Difficult, no, more awkward. It was awkward…hanging around. John wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. They made their way to the bar near the stables. Given his last encounter with drowning his sorrows, John didn’t want to drink too much, but he spotted a thirty-year-old Macallen on the top shelf.

“You have to try this,” he said to Ronon, and indicated the bottle to the bar tender.

“I don’t think that’s available today, sir.”

“It’s my damned whiskey.” The guy’s brow crinkled. “I’m the other son… John Sheppard.”

“Of, course, my apologies. Ice?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t put a $5000 whiskey over ice.” John handed a glass to Ronon. “Sip it. It needs to be savoured. Let it develop on your tongue.” He watched Ronon drink.

“Mellow. Doesn’t burn like the stuff Lorne gets on…base,” he said, smirking.

“I know, right.” He was just thinking of telling the bartender to leave the bottle when a woman, more of a girl, really, approached them.

“Colonel Sheppard, Ronon Dex.”

“Do I know you?”

“No, but I know you. A lot about you both, actually. That you’re based in Atlantis…”

“Keep your voice down. How do you know that?”

“I need your help…with an urgent matter. You should come with me.”

They found a space out of the way and listened to the disturbing story infold.

“You’re telling me there’s a replicator running around Earth?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to turn to. He’s not dangerous.”

“Like hell he’s not.”

Ronon’s hand was strong on John’s thigh. “What do you want to do?”

He handed Ronon the keys. “Take her to the car. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Dave separated from the group he was talking to as soon as John approached him. He looked…cautious.

“I have to go. Something came up.”

“It’s dad’s wake, John.”

“I know, but this is…”

“Important. Of course it is. Off to save the world, I suppose. Look, I just need to know what your expectation is here.”

“What does that mean?”

“Are you going to contest the will?”

“You think I’m here for money?”

“Well, aren’t you? We don’t see or hear from you in years. I’m the one who had to look after him, John, keep things going around here.”

“Do you know what, forget it. I’m not interested in any money. Don’t need it, don’t want it.”

Dave was still talking as John walked away. Fucking seriously? After all this time Dave, and no doubt the old man until the very end, still thought he was a loser.

He slammed the car door after sliding into the driver’s seat.

“You okay?”

“Not really.” And he peeled out of the drive through the crunch of flying gravel.

Another disaster averted. Replicators taken care of. The adrenaline had fired some much needed energy into his system, cleared his mind of the mundane drama of Earth. And family. But there was unfinished business here and he needed to tackle it. He didn’t want it festering away in the depths when he was ready to build a life with Ronon. As his husband. A wedding. Something to look forward to in any galaxy. Both galaxies, potentially.

“You want me to come with you?”

Ronon in denim. Odd, and yet… The jeans hugged in all the right places, the dress shirt a fraction too tight across his shoulders and arms, but damn, he looked good.
“You head on back to the hotel. I think I have to do this on my own.”

Ronon kissed his cheek. “You know where I’ll be if you need me.”

The house was quiet. So different without crowds of people and serving staff. Dave didn’t look surprised to see him when he opened the door.

“You know this is your house. You don’t have to knock.”

John stepped through to a thousand memories streaming in his mind. The stone fireplace he’d climbed as a kid and promptly fallen off and broken his arm. The staircase they raced down, side by side on toboggans, with Dave needing stitches in his chin. Mom calling them for dinner. Rough housing with Uncle Peter.

“I didn’t see Uncle Pete. At the wake.”

“He died a couple of years ago, John. I did send a message to your command.”

He shrugged. “I move around a lot.”

They made their way through to the kitchen and Dave started to prepare tea. “He left you money in his will. And the lake house.”

“Which one?”

“Tahoe.”

“Nice. Wait, the big one?” Those were good memories. Every one of them.

“The big one. You were always his favourite.”

“And you were dad’s.”

“I think…” Dave pushed a cup of tea over the counter. “He just didn’t know what to do with you.

John sighed. “That’s the problem, right there. He didn’t have to do anything with me. Just let me be. That’s all I wanted. To make my own choices. Even if they were the wrong ones.”

“He realised that. Towards the end. He had regrets, John.”

“Yeah, well, it’s too late for that now.”

“So…” Dave smiled. “Ronon.”

Just his name gave John shivers, but also anxiety. They hadn’t been apart for weeks and though John knew he was waiting for him, that he was on Earth…he was still too far away.

At that moment, Wendy breezed into the kitchen. “John, I missed you earlier.” She kissed Dave on the cheek, squeezed his hand. They’d been married forever but John could see Dave was still smitten. “Where’s your new beau. Dave said he’s a looker.”

Dave laughed. “I did not.”

“He was practically drooling when he was telling me about you two.”

“Is that right?”

“She’s teasing. Where is he, by the way? You know he’s welcome here.”

“I know. I figured it was easier to…you know, with…stuff.”

“Ah, what a shame.” Wendy poured herself a tea. “I’ll leave you two boys to talk. Make sure you bring him next time.”

John watched her leave. She was a looker herself. Always had been. And decent. She never liked Nancy, and John could understand that now. Hindsight, and all that.

“Where did you guys meet?”

John turned back to Dave, thrown for a minute. “Oh, uhm…”

“You can’t say. I get it.”

“It was through work, though.”

“Mercenary?”

“Something like that.”

“It’s like pulling teeth, honestly. Do you at least get to talk to him about…stuff.” Dave used air parentheses. Stuff wasn’t a word he would use naturally that was for sure.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’ve never been good with words. That was your thing.”

“We both know you’re way smarter than I will ever be, John.”

“Don’t you dare say I just need to apply myself.”

Dave laughed. “I wouldn’t. I’m not dad. He just saw your potential, that’s all.”

“And I’m using that potential exactly how I want to, and I’m doing very well with it, thank you very much.” John looked into his tea, as though he’d find answers to the mysteries of family dynamics. “I made Lt Colonel.”

“Impressive. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“About the will.”

“I really don’t care, Dave. I have everything I need already.” He topped up his tea. “You were right. You did everything here. You put up with the old man. Followed his rules. You should have everything.”

“I don’t want everything, John.” Dave huffed. “Look, this house has always been yours. And a few other places too. There’s money. A lot of money that is also yours.” He raised his hand as John went to speak. “Earlier…what I said about contesting the will. It’s about the business. You’re the oldest, but Dad left the company to me. I’ve been running it anyway and he thought…”

“I wouldn’t be interested in taking it over.”

“Something like that.”

“I’m not. I have a life I’m happy with that doesn’t involve boardrooms, mergers, and negotiating stock options. And I’m building a home with Ronon. Our life is simple. I like it like that.”

“Not that simple if you have to ditch your father’s wake to…whatever it is you do.”

“Okay, maybe simple is the wrong word.” John thought for a moment. “Straightforward, then. Something goes wrong, they call us in, we sort it out. Done. It’s practical. Hands on. Very little need for talking.”

“Dangerous, though.” There was genuine concern in his voice and John took pause.

“The military does tend to be, yes. But not every day.” Most days, but he left that unsaid. He looked again at his tea. “You fancy something stronger? There’s a Macallen in the bar.”

Dave narrowed his eyes.

“What? I took a cab here.”

Chapter Text

“You don’t like this music?” John asked and didn’t that smart just a little. He’d been playing Ronon his music—Johnny Cash included—for…forever and Ronon hadn’t complained. What else had Ronon pretended to like or rather tolerated.

Ronon shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Just fine?” John huffed.

“Satedan music is more…”

“Earthy?” John imagined drums and beating sticks.

“I was going to say refined, but I guess earthy works too. More in tune with nature, for sure.”

“Airy fairy music.”

“I don’t know what that means.” Ronon’s grin was contagious on the rare occasions he let it go and John had to reach over to kiss him.

“All wistful tinkles.”

“Hardly. I mean, some was, but it…” Ronon paused. “I always felt moved by it. It was a dynamic experience, stirring the emotions. Whether to fight, to celebrate” he eyed John, “to make love, or to fuck hard and fast.”

John adjusted his pants where they’d tightened over his groin. “Hard and fast, huh?”

“Mmm,” Ronon reached in and snuffled at John’s neck. “Just as you like it.” And they lost thirty minutes reminding each other how much they both enjoyed it exactly like that.

“We should go collect some stuff.” John shifted where he lay, half on top of Ronon, mapping the contours and blossoming bruises from their session. Not for the first time he wondered whether his body was too old for a lover as young and virile as Ronon.

“Go where?”

“Sateda.”

Ronon sat up, almost tossing John onto the floor. “To what end?”

“You said yourself, Satedan culture was refined, advanced more than Teyla’s people living in tents. We should celebrate it, record it.”

“Sateda is gone.”

“Yeah, but the stuff is still there. “Music, sculpture, art, writing.”

“And what would I do with it?”

“I’ll talk to Woolsey. We can use an empty part of the city. Set up a museum.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Ronon, how many times do I have to tell you?” Ronon stared blankly. “I love you, man. I’d do anything for you. We’re practically married already.”

Ronon pounced, pinning John to the bed beneath him, kissing hungrily over his neck and chest.

“Whoa, whoa, tiger, let me recover from the last round, will you?”

“We haven’t talked about that yet. Since we were on Earth. Satedan marriage is different from your earth marriage John. Even from Teyla’s binding ceremony. It’s a warriors wedding. Are you sure you’re up for that?”

“If it’s important to you…” John hesitated, though he wasn’t sure why. “It’s important to me.”

“Then we’ll do it. To celebrate the opening of the Satedan rooms.”

“When you say a warriors wedding?”

“Too late, Sheppard.” Ronon slapped John’s ass. “Come on, let’s go to Sateda.”

Sifting through the rubble of Sateda was hard on both of them. Ronon because…well, because, and John because he had to watch the play of emotions over Ronon’s face, the energy radiating, soft and sad one minute, raging anger the next.

They’d found a handful of buildings more intact than others. This one was some kind of music hall. Not quite a theatre, too small for that, but with a stage of sorts in the centre. Broken seats scattered around the edge. It would have been…intimate. The roof opened to the whiteness of the Satedan sky, ripped apart, bones on display in ragged struts of metal. The walls that remained, dark and moody, still held promise of what would have been shared within them.

Ronon was fussing at the back of the room. Brushing off something he’d picked up, clouds of dust billowing around him.

John approached cautiously, not wanting to breathe in too much of the debris. He paused when he saw what Ronon held.

“You play?”

“The cortada? Of course. And the putino.”

“Okay. I don’t know what those things are, but that, to me, looks like a cello. At least that’s what we call it on Earth.”

“I’m not sure this one will be any use now. It’s too damaged. Some of the strings are broken. There’s no bridge.”

“I’ll get you one from Earth. I’d like to hear you play.”

Ronon grinned, which was something given the circumstances. John had expected there to be more buildings intact from which to salvage, but the destruction was on a whole other level. Still, they’d found enough.

“We should head out of the city.” Ronon laid the instrument carefully on the floor. “To my family’s place near the mountain. Hopefully, there is more left.”

“Sure, we have all day.” They headed out into the morning sun. It held a different kind of light, and the lack of blue sky was haunting. The whole place was eerie and grey, like colour had up and abandoned the place along with any life.

“What’s a putino?”

“Uh, it’s smaller than the cortada but looks similar. And you hold it like this…” Ronon imitated playing a violin.

“We have those too. In fact, I’m pretty sure one of Rodney’s physicists has one on base.”

“Yeah?”

John hoped Ronon wouldn’t ask how he knew that. Marcie had been an interesting previous hook-up. She was smart, musically talented—playing the violin for him after their sessions—and unlike any other woman he’d been with. A little on the heavier side, plump, was probably a more accurate description, but she had an energy about her. An undeniable zest for life and adventure. He’d gone back to her more times than he cared to admit until… He sighed. Until she’d found something more permanent in one of Beckett’s team.

“You okay over there?”

John touched Ronon’s shoulder as they picked their way through the deserted city. “I was trying to remember her name.”

“John…I know you had other lovers on base before me.”

“Only a few, and most of them have rotated back, but yeah…Marcie is still here. Engaged, I think.”

Ronon stopped and turned to John. “You don’t need to hide your past from me.”

“I’m sorry. I know that, but…” John shrugged. “I forget sometimes. It’s so ingrained in me, even after so much time.”

“Let’s get back to the jumper.” John melted into Ronon’s kiss, slow and steady. “Sateda is much more than this ruined city. The mountains, and the plains on the far side are really something.”

“You think there could still be people there?”

“Nobody lived out there. The temperature extremes are too great. One overnight at the most on the plains. A few days in the mountains or forests. I would imagine after so much time, if there was anyone out there during the last days of the battle, they’d have moved through and gone off world by now.”

The plains really were something. Wide swaths of grasslands that looked dunelike from the air with a patchwork of lakes and rivers. The mountains were rounded, ancient outcrops rising from the flatter lands. The forest created a barrier around the edge of the city.

“It’s what kept the city habitable,” Ronon added as they discussed the planets climate. “The trees protected the city from the harsh winds that blow across the plains. And they help keep and ambient temperature. Winters were still difficult. You don’t see it in the ruins, but most of the city structures had covered walkways between them.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“If you head to the South of the city, just before the tree line. That’s where my family lived.”

The street was mostly intact. Wide set three and four storey homes stood at various angles to the main road. They were big. Elegant. Like period houses back home. A complete contrast to the concrete city, these homes were warm and wooden on brick foundations. A riot of colour and design. They sat on small plots, overgrown now, but with an air of ornamental design. It was…unexpected.

“This one.” Ronon turned into the front yard of a tall, almost Gothic style house. “It’s so…strange. Like they’ll be waiting inside, and we’ll all sit to have dinner together. I didn’t expect it to still be here.”

John followed Ronon up the path to the front door. He noticed the tremble in Ronon’s hand as he reached for the door handle and tried to imagine the roles reversed but he just couldn’t. It was too far out of his wheelhouse to even consider LA, or any US city for that matter, reduced to rubble, abandoned even in the suburbs that still stood as a reminder of all that had been. “You don’t have to do this.”

Ronon glanced back, gave a sad smile and wiped at a tear on his cheek. “I want to.” He reached for John’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The house opened into a large open plan space. Time stood still here. Echoes of life reverberated around the walls. Photos, art works, what were likely family treasures stood waiting for someone to remember them. John’s heart ached as he watched Ronon move around the space, touching things gently as he went.

“I hadn’t lived here in a few years,” he said. “I had an apartment in the city with Melena.” He tugged on a door near the stairs, swollen with age and misuse. He laughed and leaned in to what must have been a cupboard. “It’s still here.” He pulled out a large case, carried it to the couch and sat down, placing it before him on the floor. He looked up at John. “My cortada.” He flipped open the case and pulled out an instrument. Larger than the one they’d seen before, but not as big as a double bass.

Ronon plucked at the strings. “It’s not going to play well. Not yet. I’ll take it back and service it.”

“Anything else you want? We have room in our place if you want to take a piece of furniture or something.”

Ronon looked at him, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m not sure I deserve you, John Sheppard.”

“On the contrary, I think you deserve more, but…as I seem to be what you want—and I’m not sure I’ll ever understand that one—I’m what you get.”

“You’ve got a Satedan heart, John, and it sings to me. I’ll never want anyone else.”

Ronon’s smile, genuine and bright, was enough to make John’s knees weak. He wanted to take him in his arms, kiss him deep and hard until they struggled for breath, but this wasn’t the place. He was still daydreaming to that effect when Ronon’s arms wrapped around his waist, and they allowed a little time for indulgence in each other. A tender moment. Unrushed. Lifting the stagnant air around them.

By the time they headed back to Atlantis, Ronon had collected a couple of quilts made by his mother and grandmother, a table he’d made as a teenager, a handful of family photos, and a collection of knives from under his old bed he’d received when he turned thirteen from various relatives. And his cortada, which would forever be a cello in John’s mind. There were art works and sheet music, some books—celebrated works, Ronon had said, but they could have been anything for all John’s Satedan was—they collected from a museum. Ronon had a list of things he’d highlighted to be brought on subsequent trips, but for now, John looked around their apartment and smiled. Ronon’s things mixed with the few bits he’d brought back from his father’s place. Somehow it worked together. It was starting to look like a home.

Chapter Text

The sun filtered through the trees in dappled pools of light, casting shifting shadows across the uneven forest floor. The canopy above shielded them from the worst of the heat, but the humidity clung to John like a second skin. His tac vest chafed against his collarbone and sweat pooled at the small of his back. He wiped his hands for the umpteenth time on the towel hooked to his belt, grimacing when it made little difference.

“I told you to wrap the handle,” Ronon said. His voice had that slow rumble it got when he was trying not to sound smug. “I use rope, but I’ve seen marines use tape.”

“I don’t like the residue it leaves when you peel it off.” John flexed his fingers around the grip of his P90. “Takes forever to clean.”

“Here.” Ronon pulled a small packet from a pouch on his hip, tore it open with his teeth, and handed it over.

“What is it?”

“Tree resin. I get it from one of the markets on Tirvann. Dries chalky.”

John rubbed the gel over his palms. Milky and cool, it dried into a fine powder, giving his skin a dry, grippy texture. “Huh, that’s pretty good.”

“I prefer the chalk from the Tac room,” Teyla added from ahead. She glanced down at her trousers, frowning at the pale streaks across her thighs. “But I admit it does get everywhere.”

“Still better than slipping and dropping your weapon,” Ronon replied, giving John a pointed look.

John rolled his eyes and muttered, “You slip one time...”

Rodney, for once, wasn’t complaining. He was uncharacteristically quiet, his face flushed and his hair damp, tapping furiously at his tablet as he walked.

Ronon caught up with him, peering over his shoulder. “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet. I’m just... ah, this way.” Rodney pivoted suddenly and strode off with purpose, swerving between low-hanging branches like a man with purpose.

“I understand you have agreed to go through the Satedan marriage ceremony,” Teyla said softly, falling into step beside John. Her tone was dry, but the small curve of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

“I have,” he replied cautiously.

“Well.” Her voice lifted in approval. “I think it is very brave of you, John. And Ronon is very excited. The museum is also touching. I, for one, did not realise the depth of culture in Ronon’s people. We always thought of them as warriors. Fierce and noble. I am looking forward to his music recital in the future.”

“Okay, let’s step back a bit here. What do you mean brave? What have I signed myself up for, exactly?”

She paused, tilting her head. “He did not tell you?”

“Not the details.”

“Then it is not for me to spoil the surprise.”

“Damn it. Is this going to involve blood and broken bones on my part?”

“No broken bones. At least,” she said with a slight shrug. “No, not for you. You are also a warrior, John. But it lasts many days.”

“Well, now I’m worried.”

“Do not be. Ronon will look after you.”

She walked ahead again, leaving John stewing in his uncertainty. “You didn’t say whether there would be blood,” he called after her. No response. “Damn it.”

He forced himself to keep moving, adjusting the gun against his chest. How bad could it be? Ronon had mentioned that women went through the same process with their male partners, so it couldn’t be that brutal. Then again, Teyla could kick his ass any day of the week. He groaned. “He’s hardly going to try to maim and kill me, it’s about love, right?”

“Jackpot!” Rodney’s voice rang out ahead.

John broke into a jog and emerged from the tree line, breath catching in his throat. The trees thinned suddenly at the edge of a precipice, opening into a panoramic view of a hidden valley. Nestled in the bowl below sat a distinct Atlantian outpost—silver and bone-white metal, stark angled edges glinting in the sun and partially reclaimed by creeping vines and moss.

“If I’m right,” Rodney said beaming at them. “And let’s face it, I usually am. In there we will find ZPM’s and maybe…just maybe, a ZPM factory. How cool is that? Enough energy to last us a lifetime with everything on full power.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” John warned, eyes scanning for threats out of habit.

“Fine. But there must be at least one. I’m picking up the energy signature.” Rodney waved his tablet as if to prove the point.

Ronon scoffed. “One is different to ‘all we need’, McKay.” He narrowed his eyes at the facility below. “Why here?”

Rodney looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean why build a manufacturing hub in the middle of nowhere?”

“And then not mention what it’s for it in the database.” John shrugged. “He’s got a point. It seems a little exposed.”

“Maybe it’s a failsafe location? Hidden away for emergencies?” Rodney looked at his readings again. “I don’t know. There’s definitely a lot of latent energy, but... it’s inconsistent. Only one way to find out.”

John surveyed the rocky slope ahead. “The question is... how do we get down there?”

John and Ronon scouted the perimeter of the ledge for a few hundred metres in each direction while Teyla kept Rodney company. When they met up again Ronon shared he’d seen what looked like a stairway carved into the side of the cliff face and potentially a jumper landing strip behind the facility.

“I saw that too,” John said. “It’s a bit overgrown, but I should still be able to land safely. The problem is getting the jumper through the gate.”

“We could check it out on foot first,” Teyla offered.

“Yes, yes,” Rodney added. “And if there is something down there, we can send a team to clear the area of woodland around the gate to make it accessible for a jumper.”

John smirked. “You’re volunteering to climb down a vertical cliff face?”

“Ronon said there was a staircase.” He looked at Ronon. “You did, right?”

“I said it looked like a staircase.”

“Well, okay, then. Let’s go.”

Ronon shook his head but led the way back through the trees.

The descent was rough. The ‘stairs’ were more like eroded slabs of rock, slippery with moss and damp from the humidity. Halfway down, John’s boot slid on a wet edge, and he pitched forward, catching himself with one hand. A sharp sting bloomed in his palm.

“Shit,” he hissed, straightening.

Ronon was beside him in an instant. “You okay?”

“Just a graze,” John muttered, examining the deep scrape on his hand.

Ronon took his wrist, tilted his hand into the light. “You’ll live.” He took a field dressing from his belt and wrapped John’s hand with surprising tenderness, pressing a kiss against the bandage once he was done.

“Thanks.” John flexed his fingers, nodded. “Let’s keep going.”

The hike across the valley floor was worse. Jagged outcrops of rock forced them to scramble and climb, and by the time they reached the complex, everyone was scratched, sweaty, and irritable. The building loomed before them, half-swallowed by vines, the metal warm to the touch and humming faintly.

“There’s no obvious entrance,” Teyla noted.

“Maybe it was never finished,” Ronon said, looking over the outside wall.

Rodney frowned at his scanner. “I don’t think so. There’s something here. Power readings, shallow but steady. Maybe... try activating it.” He gestured to John. “The gene is stronger in you.”

John sighed. “Always me.” He closed his eyes, focused his thoughts, reached toward the structure in his mind like he would with a jumper. “Open sesame.” A metallic clunk echoed from somewhere inside.

“It’s working,” Rodney said. “Keep going.”

John opened his eyes. “Ronon, Teyla, maybe scout around the outside, see if anything is happening.” He waited for them to round the corners and closed his eyes again. Another clunk and scrape of metal on metal.

“Here,” Teyla called.

They followed her voice to find a narrow open panel, just wide enough to squeeze through. Inside, the facility came alive in pulses of light, casting flickering shadows across walls etched with Ancient script, and reminding John of the first time he’d stepped foot on Atlantis. John moved further inside, and the vibration of the outpost deepened as though recognising him. Lights, workstations, and a hum reminiscent of the city.

It was a cavernous space, and sure enough there were rack after rack of ZPM’s.

“I knew it,” Rodney squeaked.

“Are they…full?” John walked to the nearest rack and trailed his fingers over the first ten ZPM’s stacked there. “McKay?”

“I uh…I’m not sure. One moment.”

“This will turn the tide of the war.” John looked around the space. “We won’t need to be on the defensive all the time.”

“We still don’t have ships,” Rodney said hooking up one of the ZPMs to his tablet.

“Even in the Milky Way,” John added.

He watched Rodney move along the row, checking each ZPM. His shoulders slumped. “All of these are empty.”

“Depleted, how?”

“Empty. Not depleted. I don’t think they’ve been powered up, or rather activated, yet. Like I said before, I think this is a facility to make them. Hopefully there are some around here ready to ship out.”

“So, it’s worth getting a team in here.”

“Definitely.” Rodney scanned the space. “There are energy readings coming from over there, further into the facility.”

Rodney continued scanning the deeper interior as John followed the subtle glow of embedded wall strips. The architecture, like Atlantis itself, had a clean, deliberate elegance, brushed metal and lines of faint light, partially obscured by time and encroaching moss. The air was stale but dry, systems slowly coming back to life in response to John’s presence.

“Whatever this place used to be, I don’t think it was ever fully activated,” Rodney muttered, eyes glued to his tablet. “And the security systems? Either they were never armed, or they were deliberately disabled.”

Ronon gave the far wall a solid thump. The metal rang out but didn’t echo. “Feels wrong. Too quiet.”

Teyla ran a hand across a dormant console. “It is curious. Perhaps it was a secondary site. A factory, as Rodney suggested. Made to store power, not knowledge.”

“Still a hell of a find,” John added, though his voice was quieter now, tempered. His gaze swept the wide space. The idea that this place had sat untouched for millennia, with enough latent power to shift the balance of their war, was sobering.

They moved on and sure enough, after another fifteen minutes they came across a room, empty apart from a single crate. Inside, waiting like hidden treasure, lay three ZPM’s.

“We’ll have full power in Atlantis. Labs, shields, weapons. No more rationing. And if we can get the factory side working…” Rodney laughed. “This is amazing.”

“We’ll have to send one to SGC, Rodney. We can’t keep them all.”

“Why not? We can make more to send to them.”

“If we get this place back online.”

“We can’t get the crate back up the cliff,” Ronon said. “Can we carry one each or are they too delicate?”

“They’re safe, right?” John asked.

“As long as you don’t drop them. Or, you know, hurl them into a sun.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” John muttered. He unzipped his vest, adjusted the inner straps, and helped Ronon ease the first ZPM into place. The crystal structure pressed cool and solid against his chest.

Ronon’s solution was more improvised. He adjusted the ammunition belt across his torso and wedged the ZPM into place between reinforced leather and his body.

“I’ll carry the third,” Teyla offered. She used her own harness, steady and precise.

Rodney watched the three of them. “I could’ve carried one.”

“You’d drop it,” Ronon said.

“I would not.”

“You tripped twice getting down here.”

“That wasn’t my fault, the ground was—”

“Crumbly?”

“Deceptively loose.”

“Same thing,” Ronon said, already turning toward the exit. “You worry about getting yourself back up the cliff. I’m not going to carry you.”

“Good point.”

They retraced their steps to where the panel had opened. The sun was dropping low over the trees now, spilling golden light across the valley. As they pushed their way out, John glanced back at the chamber, the soft, unwavering glow of the facility still humming in his wake.

“You okay?” Ronon asked as they crested the ridge.

“Yeah,” John said, wiping sweat from his brow. “Just thinking.”

“About the wedding?” Ronon teased.

John gave him a look. “No. About the ZPMs. The factory. How much everything just changed.”

“If McKay can get it working. The last time he was this excited he blew up a solar system.”

“True.”

“Oh, and then there was the time he got excited, and we ended up with two McKays and he almost destroyed a parallel universe.”

“Okay, okay, I get your point. But…at least there is a possibility. However small. And for now, we have these. A game-changer in itself.”

They took a steady hike back to the gate. The sky turned lilac above them, the moons rising steadily over their path. A quiet settled in, heavy with unspoken weight. They were carrying more than power cells…they were carrying hope.

John paused at the DHD. “It’s safe, right?” He looked at Rodney. “Going through with these things. They’re usually in packing crates when we take them through the gate.”

“I could go on through and bring something back.”

“Does that mean you don’t know.”

“Something like that.”

“Teyla, give me yours. I’ll wait with Ronon while you go with Rodney to get a crate. Leave the gate active.”

“So, a warrior’s ceremony, huh?” John said as Rodeny and Teyla disappeared into the event horizon. “Are you going to tell me what to expect?”

“Nothing to worry about. We can’t do the full ceremony anyway.”

“Why not?”

“It’s set up as a series of trials. Each day sees a new set of suitors battling it out to win the hand of the betrothed. There aren’t enough marines who’d be up for that. Enough for one day, perhaps. But not a full tournament.”

“I have to win your hand in marriage?”

“We have to battle to be each other’s champion. Wrestling, mostly, hand-to-hand, wooden swords. It’s a show, entertainment. It’s the meaning that is important.”

“Which is?”

“That you…we…will face any enemy that threatens our life together.”

“That seems okay.”

“Once the trials are over, we perform the…”

“Put it here, here.” Rodney was back with Teyla and two marines.

John caught Ronon’s smile as he unstrapped and handed over his ZPM.

“Perform what?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to discuss it later.” He walked through the gate before John could press for more.

John looked at Teyla. “He’s going to make me fight you for his hand, isn’t he?”

“I think that is likely.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Do not worry, John, I will go easy on you and of course, I will allow you to win.”

“Who’s fighting who, now?” Rodney piped up.

“Just get the crate back to Atlantis, Rodney.” He waited for Rodney and the marines to go through with Teyla. John paused at the edge of the event horizon, feeling the gentle pull of it ripple through his boots. So many new possibilities. And he stepped into his future.

Chapter Text

Chapter

“I look ridiculous.” John pulled at what was little more than a loin cloth folded around his waist with leather flaps to cover his modesty.

“You look fit.” Lorne smiled, adding a sheath to the side of John’s outfit for a wooden dagger. “Seriously, John. You’re in great shape.”

“It just feels a little…inappropriate, you know, having so much…skin on display.”

Rodney huffed. “At least you can get away with the Tarzan outfit. If I put that on, I’d look like a Tellytubby.”

“I have no idea what that is, Rodney. And you’re supposed to be my Best Man, you should be wearing one in support.”

“Not a chance, my friend. Not a chance.”

“Aren’t you supposed to help me in the battle?”

Rodney ruffled. “Not in the one-day version of events. If it was a full tournament, then yes, I would be expected to take over when you got tired.”

John looked down at himself. His stomach rolled and he felt faint. “Can’t I wear a shirt, or a…a leather waistcoat or something?”

“John…” Lorne took hold of him by the shoulders. “Ronon is out there waiting for you. This is important to him. So, it’s important to you.”

“I don’t know if I can…”

Lorne gave him a shake. “Man up. Teyla is out there looking like Princess Leia, the least you can do is match her.”

“That makes it worse. She’s seriously hot on any day of the week.”

“Exactly. Nobody is going to be looking at you. Now, lets get you oiled up. It’ll help give you a bit of colour.”

“Like a basted Turkey.”

“Something like that.” Lorne stepped behind him and poured oil across his shoulders. “I am not rubbing this into your chest, so get busy.”

It did look better…once the oil had been applied. It added some needed shading to the hint of abs, making them look more prominent. He almost had a six-pack. His thighs looked strong, a bit stringy, but defined. And now all he could think about was what the oil had done to Ronon’s body. It was possible John would need to actually fight people off once they got a look at Ronon in a loin cloth. He could hear people chanting and he wavered, his knees weak.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Lorne pushed a chair behind him. “Sit for a minute. I’m not having you passing out on me.”

“Who’s with Ronon?”

“Teyla and Radek. And I bet they aren’t haven’t to deal with all this complaining. Now, are you ready?”

“Not even a little bit.” But John stood up, rolled his shoulders and stepped out to face the crowd.

The East pier was dressed in tiers of seating and flower poles around a twenty metre-diameter ring of matting. The smell of incense drifted by on soft plumes of smoky air and he could hear music under the chanting. He looked around and saw the Athosians playing drums and what looked like mandolins. Most of the city had turned out by the looks of it, the Athosians too, and…oh, crap, he could see Caldwell laughing with some of the crew of the Daedalus. Humiliation complete, he sighed and made his way to the edge of the circle, Lorne and McKay at his side, and ignoring the whistles and catcalls. He noted marines in a similar get up to his, two on each side of the circle, toned bodies glistening in the sun and it was all he could do not to turn around and run.

Lorne stepped forward and looked around the crowd. “We present our champion, John Sheppard of Earth.”

Then he appeared. Ronon. On the opposite side of the ring. Everything else fell away, the noise melting into the haze of morning light. Ronon shook out his limbs, stretched his neck, and his arms across his chest as he did before sparring. He didn’t just look good…he looked divine, like he’d been carved by the gods themselves. His hair was tied back, and John was sure, even from this distance, he could see him smirking. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now except putting one foot in front of the other until they could be alone.

Teyla stepped forward, and damn... “We present our champion, Ronon Dex of Sateda.” Ronon stepped into the ring and knelt, head bowed. And that was all it took.

John was ready.

He matched Ronon’s move and stepped into the ring, kneeling with his head bowed. He was aware of movement, but didn’t look up. Then he heard Lorne, who must have walked to the middle of the circle. “May the first suitor present themselves to battle our champion.” There was a roar from the crowd, stamping feet, like something out of Gladiator.

“It’s time,” Rodney said, tapping his shoulder.

John stood, made his way to the centre of the circle to face his first opponent, Jenkins, all lean muscle and smiles.

“First to three points, wins,” Teyla said. They both nodded, and Teyla dropped her hand.

Jenkins was brutal, no doubt wanting to put on a good show. He got the first point and bounced around while John pulled himself together. John could feel Ronon’s eyes on him, burning into his skin and it made him brave. He stepped up his game and he’d soon won two points in a row, even with Jenkins putting in full effort. The next round, Jenkins upped the pressure, but he didn’t match John’s experience. He tried to grab John’s belt, but John rolled back and flipped Jenkins over his head, pinning him a third time.

“Damn it,” Jenkins said, his breath ragged. “I was supposed to win another point.”

John pulled him to his feet. “Not in a battle for Ronon.” John slapped him on the shoulder and they both laughed.

Lorne stepped forward. “Our champion is victorious.” Lorne grabbed his arm and raised it up. The crowd erupted in cheers and John had to admit, it felt good. He caught a glimpse of Ronon, stoic and silent, hiding a grin.

It carried on like that, Ronon putting down Calloway and Miska in three straight holds, John dispatching Dubrakov, three to one, and then he found himself facing a very amused Teyla.

“Don’t hurt me,” he said as they bowed. “I want to be able to enjoy my wedding night, thank you very much.”

“Do not worry, John.” She bounced around him and he readied his stance. “Think of it as a dance.”

“If I was dancing, I’d usually be wearing more clothes.” And then he was looking up at her from his back and he hadn’t even seen her move.

“Do you want me to take Ronon from you?” she jibed.

John got to his feet, shook himself out. He won the next two points. Well, she allowed him the next two points before taking another.

“This is it, John. Will you fight for your—”

“My what?” he said, looking down at her where he pinned her to the mat. Lorne tapped it out and he let her go.

“That was impressive,” she said. “I really did not see that coming.” She bowed and retreated to the edge of the circle.

“Our champion is victorious,” Lorne shouted, grabbing his hand and raising it above their heads once more.

Ronon also faced Teyla, and for the first time that day found himself pinned face down against the mat. John could see her goading him, laughing. She didn’t win another point after that, and soon Zelenka was holding Ronon’s hand up as victorious champion.

They carried on with two bouts each of wooden sword fighting and then they were brought together in the centre of the circle where their left hands were bound together with a leather strap. Cushions arrived from somewhere for them to kneel facing each other, a pot of freshly mixed va’kmah pigment Ronon had prepared the previous day placed next to them with towels and the sacred ceremonial kai’reth they’d salvaged from his family’s home. The same set his parents had used for their wedding, and his grandparents before them. A screen was placed shielding them from view. It was intimate, yet John was hyper aware of everyone just outside. Waiting. Listening.

They stared into each other, John momentarily blindsided by Ronon’s smile. “Now I get to mark you,” Ronon said, reaching forward to kiss John, chaste and sweet. “Stand for me.” Ronon pulled the belt of the loincloth away from John’s left hip, placed a gentle kiss against his skin, and reached for the setrah, a single pointed stem of carved bone, dipping it into the ink before lifting the vahen and tapping it against the angled ridge of the setrah. Slowly, but surely, he tattooed his initials in Satedan onto John’s skin. John bit down through the pain of it. The needle went deep, blood welling to the surface. Behind the rhythm of it, low and resonant like a hum of the combined voices of the ancestors, John heard Ronon’s native tongue. The rich, deep, sounds of Satedan as he spoke the ceremonial words. No Earth equivalent. Words that wouldn’t translate, though John could feel the meaning of them burning into his skin. For all its linguistic miracles, the ring of the ancestors didn’t flatten meaning when the shape of it mattered more than the definition. The sounds curled through the air like incense, shaped like thunder, rolling vowels and soft consonants.

“Turn around.” John turned and Ronon folded up the skirt to expose his right ass cheek.

“I don’t have to show everyone this, right?”

Ronon chuckled. “I’d rather you didn’t. It’s supposed to be for me alone to see.”

“Well, that’s okay then.” He grimaced again through the pain of it and then it was over.

“Now you belong to me, John Sheppard.” Ronon’s voice held an edge of awe as though he hadn’t expected John to go through with it. “One more. Kneel for me. This will hurt a little more. Chin up." Ronon kissed John’s neck, then wiped it with a clean cloth provided. "You’re about to become Satedan, John. Are you ready?”

They’d talked about this. Ronon had said John didn’t have to have the neck tattoo if he wasn’t comfortable with it, but John had been clear from the start. If I’m going to do any of this, I’m doing all of it.

Ronon opened a smaller lacquered box tucked within the larger bowl and drew out what John now recognised as the kai’reth Ronon had taken from the museum. It was different to the wedding set. John remembered Ronon tucking it into his bag with reverence. The ceremonial tools of Satedan marking. This setrah had a row of teeth on one edge and a single point at a right-angle to it. The handle curved to fit neatly in the hand and the vahen broader, the carved handle worn smooth by generations of warriors. Ronon had said it hadn’t been used for hundreds of years, yet here he was, bestowing the honour upon John.

“Why is mine going to be different to yours, again?”

“The tattoo denotes military rank.” Ronon turned his head and ran a finger over his own emblem. “Mine has the mark of Sateda, a full line representing Specialist, and the dots show the level within the rank of Specialist. For me, one step away from your equivalent of Major. That would be a second full line.” Ronon’s gaze was steady and strong. “I’m giving you the mark for Commander, John. As my military Commander here on Atlantis, you represent the highest serving officer of the Satedan military. So, you have the line for Major extended at the base as a reflection of the Satedan glyph—that would be Colonel in your military. For ranks of General you would have dots placed here…in a horizontal line.” He indicated a place under the first mark for Sateda. “And when you are elevated to Commander in Chief, it becomes a full line, with the tail fin of Ultimate Service. Because you are not born of Sateda, your glyph will be a mirror image to reflect your chosen allegiance. And…you receive this honour from me, as the only remaining serving officer of Sateda. As it should be.” He took both of John’s hands in his. “So…are you ready?”

John nodded once. The energy of this tattoo was different. He felt it in Ronon’s hand, on the power of his breath. The first strike landed…pain sharp but clean. The seal of the Satedan soldier. Fierce and noble, Teyla had said. It took longer, biting into his skin, each line carving out a promise that went beyond marriage and relationships. It grounded him into the moment. The language of ink, and of blood passed from warrior to warrior. John let his mind wander to that first day in the cave. Ronon all rough and broken. Such a contrast to the man in front of him and yet one and the same.

Music and incense filled the air once more, and John could hear singing. He wondered if it had been there the whole time, but he was only just noticing, so engrossed as he’d been in the ceremony within their protected bubble.

Ronon sat back to admire his work, his smile as bright as the unshed tears in his eyes. “Now it’s your turn to mark me.” Ronon stood before him and exposed his right hip, the idea being their names would kiss each time they made love.

John had practised his initials in Satedan for the last couple of weeks, wanting to get it just right. He took the fresh setrah from the wedding set and began his work, taking a moment to admire it before asking Ronon to turn. John exposed his left ass cheek, repeating the tattoo towards the inner edge where he’d see it every time he spread Ronon open to take him. It was highly arousing, and John had to press down on his hardening cock. A boner was the last thing he needed in this outfit.

With the marking ceremony complete, they took a moment to breathe together, a lingering peace and reverence to honour their commitment. Ronon sent up a flare of blue smoke to denote they were officially wed and the crowd cheered. The screen was peeled back, and they stood, hands still bound, before their witnesses. Teyla and Radek came to Ronon’s side, Lorne and Rodney to John’s, and the marines who’d fought against them stood behind them as they walked out of the circle.

Once inside they accepted hugs and congratulations before being ushered on through to their apartment. They walked through deserted hallways in silence. A special moment. When the door closed behind them John felt for all the world like a blushing virgin all over again. Someone had been in to the apartment to dress it in flowers, and a fabric canopy hung over the bed creating a tent like cocoon of rich colour over a white mattress. Food and jugs filled the table, and soft music, deep and rhythmic played in the background.

“Is it weird that everyone on the base knows what we’re about to do?”

Ronon smiled. “And what are we about to do?”

“Don’t we have to like…consummate the marriage?”

Ronon reeled him in by the strap still binding them together. “I could get used to you in this outfit. Though I have to say I’m not best pleased that everyone got to see…so much of you.”

“Can’t say I’m particularly thrilled either.” He ran his hand over Ronon’s chest. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

“And this…” Ronon followed the trail of remaining oil along John’s arm. “The idea of McKay getting to touch you so intimately…”

“Actually, it was Lorne. Rodney’s a bit squeamish about things like that.”

Ronon sighed, rested his head against John’s. “That makes it worse. Lorne…he’s a good match. Did he have strong hands?”

“I can’t say I noticed. I was too busy freaking out about this skirt thing.” John breathed deeply as Ronon continued to stroke his arms and shoulders. “And what about you. Teyla massaging oil into your body.”

“I did most of it myself. Radek helped with my back. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, with Teyla being an unwed Athosian, for her to lay hands on me in so intimate a manner. But now…now I think it’s my turn to touch. I’m going to take you into the shower and clean every trace of Lorne from you.” He kissed over John’s neck, along his jaw, and John lifted his head for better access, the tattoo smarting as he turned to the side.

“What is everyone else doing now?”

“Drinking.” Another kiss, tender and light. “Feasting.” Becoming more insistent, nuzzling into the curve of John’s shoulder. “Dancing.” Ronon led John into the bathroom. “And tomorrow we will drink, and feast, and dance with them. But tonight, John Sheppard of Sateda…tonight, you are mine.”

Chapter Text

Chapter

It was a good job Woolsey had declared a two-day holiday for the celebrations. By the time John and Ronon surfaced the next day the city was practically deserted. The few people they did see on their way to breakfast looked decidedly hungover and barely acknowledged them.

The mess hall contained a few more signs of life, including Teyla, Zelenka, and Lorne, who cheered as they entered.

“Looks like you had a hell of a party,” John said, noting the limited options for breakfast and most of the occupants nursing mugs rather than food.

“The Athosians make a mean moonshine, and the Daedalus brought a lot of beer.” Zelenka sipped at a black coffee.

“And something called Bourbon,” Teyla added. “What was the other thing?” she asked Lorne.

“Sake.” Lorne grimaced. “They’ve got a Japanese contingent onboard right now. Gifted several crates of ceremonial genshu—unfiltered, undiluted. Strong stuff. Damn good, but it creeps up on you.”

“Sake, yes.” Teyla pressed two fingers to her temple. “Very deceptive. I feel as though the drums of my people are playing inside my head this morning.”

“Don’t worry,” Zelenka added. “We saved plenty for tonight. The Japanese wish to serve you with a proper kagami biraki genshu ceremony if you are open to it, Ronon.”

“Sounds good. To honour both worlds.”

“And new beginnings,” Zelenka added.

“Given your experience of travelling whilst inebriated, Mr Woolsey has suspended gate activity for a further two days. Even the crew of the Daedalus have remained on Atlantis overnight rather than chancing any form of beaming back to their quarters.”

“And how was your evening?” Lorne was grinning. “That tattoo looks good, John.”

John felt his face flush. “It’s a bit…tender, actually.” Along with his ass cheek, and his hip. Especially after having Ronon’s meaty hands pawing at them all night. Even if it was with oils to help with healing.

Lorne chuckled. “Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“Okay, enough of that.”

Ronon snuffled into the side of his neck, and he melted a little. Lorne and Teyla laughed. He hid his embarrassment in his mug of coffee.

“What are your plans for the day?” Teyla asked. “I believe the feast does not start until late this afternoon.”

“Do you really need to ask them?” Lorne winked at John, and he flushed brighter.

“Actually, we’ll be planning the Earth counterpart for R&R next week.”

“John has a lake house,” Ronon said around a mouthful of eggs.

Lorne raised an eyebrow. “Very nice. Are you having a full family thing?”

John shook his head. “Off to Vegas. Then on to Tahoe for a week. I’m not sure what kind of state the place is in. It’s been locked up for a few years.”

“As long as there’s a bed, right?” Lorne chuckled at John’s blushes. “It’s your honeymoon, John, come on, you have to expect a bit of ribbing.” Lorne looked him in the eye. “And a few humps.”

“Okay, that’s it.” John went to stand but Lorne caught his arm.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

“Lorne…” Teyla bumped his arm.

Ronon had stilled, fork halfway to his mouth, staring at Lorne’s hand on John’s arm. Lorne pulled back slowly and raised his hand in supplication.

“Sorry, big guy. Didn’t mean anything by it. The tournament is over, right, you won your prize.”

Ronon looked up at Lorne. “As long as you remember that we won’t have a problem.”

“Come on, Ronon. You can’t expect people not to touch me ever again…for anything.”

Ronon twisted his head to look at John, his eyes narrowed. “And I didn’t say that did I? There’s a difference between touch that is necessary,” he glanced at Lorne, “and touch that is casual and unsolicited.” Back to John, and he squirmed under the heavy gaze. “Do I need to remind you already of the commitment you have made to me to ensure people understand that?”

The silence was heavy, their company barely breathing, but John could see the humour in Ronon’s eyes, challenging him. John shrugged. “I guess it couldn’t hurt,” he said, quirking a smile.

Ronon dropped his fork, and the next minute John was hoisted over his shoulder, much to the amusement of everyone present. His hip tattoo smarted at the rough handling. Ronon dropped him on his feet once they were in the corridor and slapped John’s ass.

“Ow…that was right—”

“Where it was supposed to be.” Ronon bumped John’s shoulder. “I’m sorry it got away from me in there. It’s just Lorne, you know. I know it’s only camaraderie…in service. But he was the one who oiled you, and…”

“And?”

“I didn’t fight him for you. I haven’t won you…from him. Even symbolically.”

“Because you don’t need to. Not from Lorne. He’s married, Ronon.”

“He is?”

“Probably doesn’t seem like it with the time he spends here, but they have like a million kids.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“What, have kids?”

“Be away from them. What’s the point of bringing children into the world if you aren’t going to raise them?”

“It’s not as simple as that where we come from. Lorne is making a great sacrifice for his family by being here, ensuring they have a comfortable life, providing for them. The more active deployments he takes now, the more likely he is to get a desk job earlier in his career and be at home all the time when they really need his guidance.”

“I still wouldn’t do it, but I guess I understand. So…Lorne is a brother?”

“Definitely just a brother. Along with all the other guys on base. And there’s no threat from the women either.”

They arrived outside their apartment and Ronon pinned John against the wall, arms over his head, delving in for a kiss, deep and dirty. When he let John up for breath he grinned. “I still think I should remind you what those marks mean on your skin.”

“Oh, you should. Absolutely. But then you’ll have to feed me because I didn’t finish my breakfast.”

“I’m sure I can remedy that.” Ronon opened the door and ushered John into the room, pushing him on until his calves hit the bed and he tumbled backward. Ronon was on him in an instant, crawling over his body until he straddled John’s chest. He grinned pulling at his pants. “Well, you did say you were hungry…”

All John could think was how fucking glorious his life had become.

They received a rousing welcome at Stargate Command, lots of cheering and slaps on the back. John left Ronon in the canteen with a group of marines ready to gate to Atlantis on the next rotation after their own R&R and headed to Landry’s office.

“Ah, Colonel Sheppard,” Landry greeted him, standing to shake his hand. “I hear the celebrations were… lively.”

“You could say that sir. I don’t think I’m ever going to live down the loincloth.”

Landry chuckled. “Nice ink, by the way.” He gestured to John’s neck. It had healed nicely in the week since the ceremony. He was even getting used to seeing it in the mirror.

“Thanks. I know having tattoos on show is frowned upon…but I’m Satedan now.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of our thing.”

Landry nodded. “Understood. Still, a word of advice, if you’re ever briefing senior brass outside the SGC, or meeting with the IOA, maybe fake an injury. Wear a scarf. They don’t take kindly to what they interpret as split allegiances.”

John bristled. “With respect, sir, my loyalty is to Ronon. Always will be.”

Landry’s expression softened. “And mine’s to my wife, John, but she’s not from another galaxy.”

John gave a small smile. “Got it.”

“Now,” Landry continued, opening a drawer and producing a white envelope. “Different subject entirely. Congratulations.” He slid it across the desk.
John opened it. His jaw dropped.

“You’ve made full Colonel. Recognition for your ongoing command of Atlantis. Caldwell and Mr. Woolsey both spoke highly of your leadership. And, well… let’s be honest…dealing with McKay on a daily basis probably earns you hazard pay, if nothing else.”

John grinned. Wasn’t that the truth. “I didn’t even know I was under review.”

“Finding a potential ZPM factory didn’t hurt, regardless of whether we ever get it running. Which brings me to this—” Landry placed a second envelope on the desk. “For Ronon. Field commission. Rank of Major. I trust he will view it as intended…a welcome handshake to his new family on Earth.”

“This…” John stroked a finger over Ronon’s name. “Is unexpected…but appreciated. And he’ll understand what it means. Thank you.”

“It’s symbolic,” Landry added. “But sincere. He’s not technically in our command structure, but no one’s questioning his service. It’s confirmation he has a place here should the Atlantis mission ever wind down. I can arrange for a more formal acknowledgment if you think it more fitting.”

John shook his head. Ronon wouldn’t want that, having to glad hand the management. He barely tolerated Woolsey, though that seemed to have eased since the whole coming out fiasco.

“Okay then. I’ll send you on your way. Enjoy the honeymoon, John.” Landry stood again to shake John’s hand. “And congratulations. I guess we’ll see you in a week.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Chapter Text

Arriving back at SGC, preparing to travel back through the gate, created a deep sense of relief after a week on Earth mixing with non-military personal. Not that they’d seen many people. But for John, Earth was becoming more and more like an alien planet. Along with an added air of the surreal—that priorities were upside down and back to front. Something new hung in the air around them. More than a marriage union, more than heaps of sex in a lakeside cabin. As they stepped through, John grabbed Ronon’s hand, not wanting them to be ripped apart in the event horizon, but to be fused instead somehow. Mixed together before being spat out at the other end. Ronon understood. John saw it in his eyes, and the small, sweet smile as they dematerialised. On the other side…John felt different. Fuller. Complete. Not in a sappy way with rainbows and flowers, but in strength.

“Thank goodness.” Rodney greeted them with his eternal huffiness and sour mood. “We found a planet with a compound we need for the factory and Woolsey made us wait until you got back before going there.”

John sighed. The gate was still active and already McKay had taken up hounding him.

“Rodney,” Teyla scolded. “Give them time to breathe. May I escort you back to your quarters? I would like to hear of the lake house.”

Ronon stepped up to hug Teyla and John thought…he must be imagining it…but just for a moment it felt as though he hugged her too. He was tired. The gravity here was different and although he felt lighter energetically, his body noted the change in pressure exerted on it in a more profound way than usual.

Woolsey stepped forward. “I understand congratulations are in order for both of you.” He nodded to John. “Colonel Sheppard. Major Dex,” he added, turning to Ronon.

“Major?” Teyla smiled. “That is wonderful news.”

“When did that happen?” Rodney complained. “Nobody tells me anything.”

John tried to shake off the irritation. “They tell you plenty, Rodney. You just don’t listen.” He looked around the gate room. Good to be home. “We’re going to decompress for a while. Can we catch up with you later?” He aimed his comment at Woolsey, but it was Teyla who answered.

“Of course. I took the liberty of stocking your kitchen in the event you may need time.”

“That’s thoughtful, thanks.” Ronon brushed her shoulder with his fingertips and the sense ghosted over John’s hand.

Weird.

She smiled. “Welcome home.”

Rodney had already wandered off muttering to himself, and John took a deep breath. “Walk with us,” he said to Teyla after Rodney had disappeared around the corner.

“You seem…different John.”

“Different how?”

“You stand taller, somehow. Fill the space differently.”

“As long as it’s not some alien parasite or mind-bending disembodied entity different.”

“I do not think so.”

“Okay then.”

“Join us for tea?” Ronon suggested, as they began to walk.

The world was lush. The greenest grass swayed in a gentle breeze. Flowers reminiscent of huge poppies danced before the gate. Teyla raised her hand to pause everyone.

“We must leave. Immediately,” she cautioned.

“We just got here. What could possibly—”

“This is Ukara. We must leave now and return less…armed.”

John didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go.”

“Can’t we just…”

“Now, McKay.”

In the conference room, with Woolsey present, Teyla spoke up. “The Ukarans are…a noble people, very insular. They do not travel through the gate, and they do not trade off-world.”

“For anything?” Woolsey asked.

“They have no need.”

“Primitive,” Rodney said. “So, we can offer a few trinkets and take what we need.”

“Far from it, Rodney. Although they accept few visitors, those who do make it to their city describe an advanced civilisation. It is difficult to ascertain how they have evaded Wraith culling because they so rarely speak with anyone. Their language is quite complex.”

“Well, the gate translates, surely.”

“Not in this instance, Rodney. At least not completely. And I know of no world that has trade terms with them.”

“Well, that sucks. Can’t we just sneak in under the radar?”

“I know a people who traded with them.” Ronon’s voice rumbled through John’s gut. Everyone looked to him. “Sateda. They recognise us as brothers. Our language has similar root verbs which allow us to understand each other.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “And what could Sateda possible offer them that we can’t.”

John bristled. “Knock it off, McKay.”

“Yes, yes, we all know you’re Satedan now, but my point still stands.”

“Enough.” Woolsey stood abruptly. “If you cannot show respect to your own team, Dr. McKay, I will not allow you to return with them to begin what appear to be delicate negotiations.”

Rodney opened his mouth to talk but thought better of it and just nodded.

“You were saying, Ronon…”

“Their technology is advanced. Not to Ancient standards, but certainly for Pegasus. They easily surpassed Sateda.” Ronon placed his plasma blaster on the table in front of him. “It’s one of their designs. The power units too. They are one of only three planets in the galaxy that manufacture the power cells.”

That’s more like it,” Rodney said. Woolsey glared at him, and he dropped his head. “Sorry.”

“Have you been there before, Ronon? The Athosians have tried many times to trade with them. They have always been polite but dismissed us quickly.”

“I haven’t personally, but the Satedan Council met with them yearly.”

“Maybe we can use that to our advantage.” Woolsey addressed Ronon, “if you are okay with that.”

“That would be Sheppard’s call.” Their attention turned to John, and he fidgeted. “He’s Military Commander, the closest Sateda has to a council these days.”

John could see Rodney itching to say something, but he remained quiet. The words must have been burning him up from the inside because his face flushed beet red.

“Okay then, let’s give it a go. Teyla, you said we had to leave because we were too heavily armed. What would be your recommendation?”

“I will change into Athosian attire.”

“Maybe I should accompany you,” Woolsey said. “As leader of Atlantis to begin talks.”

“I see no reason why not,” she said. “They will accept Ronon and Colonel Sheppard to have handguns, but not P90’s. We should not allow them to feel at all threatened by our presence. My understanding of Ukara is that it is a peaceful planet, but they are not afraid to defend themselves fiercely. Another reason they are left alone.”

“What about me?” Rodney sounded hopeful, and John wondered whether Woolsey would make him stay behind.

“You should change out of your field uniform,” Woolsey said. “And you will not address them directly or make snide comments. I will make you wait for us at the gate.”

“You should also know they are big people.”

“Fat?” Rodney asked.

“Tall, Rodney.” Even Teyla’s patience was wearing thin, John could sense the irritation rising in a way he hadn’t ever before.

“It’s true,” Ronon added. “I heard stories about how they made the Satedans who travelled there feel small in comparison.

“What, we’re supposed to believe they’re giants now?”

“Dr. McKay, you are on your last warning.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one,” John snapped. “The whole universe does not revolve around you and your ego. We’ll meet in the gate room in an hour. Suitably humble, and in control,” he added looking at Rodney.

As they filed from the conference room John lagged behind with Ronon. “So, what did Satedans trade for those weapons?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I wasn’t part of the government. I do know there were some marriages over the years, but the couples always stayed on Ukara.”

“Because they don’t travel. We need that compound if we’re going to attempt to produce any ZPMs.”

“They will recognise your insignia.” Ronon’s fingertips brushed over the tattoo on John’s neck. “And mine.”

John reached out to touch Ronon’s. “You know, I should update yours to reflect your promotion to Major. Extend those dots.”

Ronon took John’s hand and kissed his fingers. “Thank you, sir.”

An hour later they stood before the gate looking much less imposing. “Are we ready?”

Ronon was taken aback, momentarily by the increase in John’s presence before the event horizon, the roundness of his tone. It held the echo of Sateda. The richness and depth of his mother tongue, and wow…just when he thought he couldn’t love John anymore.

“Teyla,” Woolsey said. “Should we take your lead?”

“Actually, I feel it would be more appropriate for Ronon to make first contact as a Sateden. Seeing it is his people who have a history with the Ukarans.”

“Very well.” Woolsey nodded to Ronon. “After you.”

Chapter Text

They walked for only five minutes through the fields of flowers before a group of seven approached them, each armed with plasma blasters. They stood a good head taller than Ronon, with one even taller than the rest. They wore soft blue robes, pale as the sky, that billowed in the breeze, leather wrist cuffs similar to Ronon’s own, and their hair braided, not in dreads, but reminiscent of Vikings and Norse tribesmen Ronon recognised from movies and shows he’d seen with John.

Ronon paused, and the team stopped behind him. John joined him in front of the others. One of the Ukarans stepped forward, tilted his head a little, narrowed his eyes at Ronon. “You are Satedan?” He then looked at John and bowed respectfully. John returned the greeting and smiled.

“We have come to establish trade relations,” Ronon said. “If you are open to meet with us.”

“Welcome. We will take you to the city.” He glanced behind John and Ronon. “These strangers are with you?”

“They are friends,” Ronon glanced at Teyla. “Family.”

“So be it. Come.”

None of them were prepared for the city that unfolded before them as they passed through a canyon between a rocky outcrop that served as a barrier from the fields. It rose in the distance, a collection of citadels upon a hill. The canyon opened on to a manmade platform with a collection of screens, one showing the gate. They would have seen them arrive earlier in the day and retreat quickly. Parked to each side were vehicles, sleek and metal, shaped like bullets from the P90 cassettes.

“At least we don’t have to walk.”

Woolsey glared at McKay.

“Sorry, sorry. I won’t say another word.”

The air here was warmer than the meadow, an iron tang Ronon recognised as the after taste of a recently fired blaster wafted around him and he wondered whether the vehicles ran on similar fuel cells. They joined their hosts inside one of the vehicles. Similar to a jumper, but elegant, comfortable. The interior, light metals and fabrics with silver consoles that glowed with an undertone of purple. They all sat together as the ship moved off with no obvious pilot.

“I offer sincere condolences for the loss of your world. Sateda was a great friend and ally to our people. I am Hiren.” The man touched his chest.

“Thank you.” Ronon bowed his head a fraction. “I am Ronon Dex. This,” Ronon gestured to John, “is Commander Sheppard. I heard similar talk from my people regarding your community. We would be honoured to take up where the previous delegations left off.”

“Lorees will be mightily surprised and heartily cheered to see you. We have welcomed many people of Sateda to our family.”

“This too I have heard from my people.”

“Let us save further introductions for this happy reunion.”

The others were strangely quiet. From both groups. Ronon was sure it was Satedan he was hearing. It was possible the rest of the team had not understood the interaction. The other Ukarans were more interested in John, their eyes flitting between him and Ronon. Ronon wondered what they could see. He’d heard rumours as a child that Ukarans could see inside you, measure your worth at a glance. The families who had members join the Ukaran community were celebrated as having produced noble stock. It had felt odd to Ronon. Alien that losing people to another planet would make a family worthy... but he understood it more now as the city came into clearer view.

Mighty towers rose from the ground. Not as tall as the spires of Atlantis but still impressive. The footprint stretched out in vast ornamental gardens of every colour, a larger scale to his parents’ garden at the house with decorative hedges and trees, flowers and fragrant bushes he could smell even inside the ship. It smelled like home and his heart lurched in his chest. John reached for him. Patted his knee, sensing the emotional tide. Hiren looked at him fondly and smiled. It was oddly familiar. He had the look of Sateda and Ronon thought perhaps he had some Satedan ancestry.

“My great grandfather was of Sateda,” Hiren said in answer to Ronon’s thought. “We are fiercely proud to have welcomed such great warriors into our lineage.”

Emotion threatened to overtake him and again John patted his knee. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly, his hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I feel it.”

It didn’t take long for them to be ushered before a council of twelve elders. They looked very old. Older than Ronon had ever seen, but still regal and strong. The leader stood, acknowledging John and Ronon with a bow, which they returned. Ronon looked at John. There was something different, undefinable about his energy. He seemed…more.
“I am Lorees. Leader of the Ukara. Hiren tells me you are of Sateda. I see the insignia you bear. How is this possible? We thought your people lost to Pegasus aside from those in our own community.”

His voice held suspicion, and rightly so. Ronon would think the same if their positions were reversed. “I was taken in the last great battle.”

“By the Wraith? And yet you still walk free.”

“They made me a runner.” The council gasped, some whispered between themselves. “For seven years I evaded them. Hunted them as they tried to destroy my spirit.”

“You are strong. Honourable. This I see with my own eyes. And how did you come to be free from that fate?”

Ronon looked at John. He was already watching Ronon, and he nodded, smiled. “Colonel Sheppard and his team at that time. He arranged for the tracker to be removed under field surgery.” He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering how he felt when John gave him the news that Sateda was gone. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly. “At that time, I was expecting to go home to Sateda, and family.” He shook it off internally. “He gave me a home, and I serve him still.”

Ronon could see the leader looking over each of them, assessing.

“Your journey has been a noble one.”

Ronon could sense the unease of the council. They were going to turn them away. He was waiting for them to ask how John became Commander of Sateda, to bear the mark. They chatted amongst themselves. He saw Lorees shake his head. Ronon was about to explain when John stepped forward.

His stance was relaxed, casual even, but there was weight in his voice. “If I may address the council?”

Ronon stilled, unsure he’d heard correctly. John’s voice held weight, yes, but also a rhythmic power that reminded him of...

Lorees gestured for John to continue. John bowed his head slightly and began to speak.
In Satedan.

Not just a phrase. A full sentence. Then two. Then three. Flawless structure, proper cadence. A hint of John’s Earth accent softened the edges, but every syllable was there, deliberate and steady.

The council whispered, visibly surprised. Lorees tilted his head. “The great warrior who knows another’s path.” There was an air of awe and reverence in his tone. More chatter between the council members, undecipherable but excited. The tension in the room eased, just a fraction. A small shift. Enough to matter.

Ronon’s chest tightened as John continued his story.

“Is this more Ancient gene voodoo,” Rodney complained. “Because I can’t understand a word Sheppard is saying.”

“Not magic,” said Ronon, his tone echoing the awe of the council. “He’s speaking Satedan.”

“How is that possible?”

Ronon looked at McKay. “Because he is of Sateda in heart and soul, and these people will understand that more than any promises you want to make of things they neither need nor desire.”

“Yes,” Teyla said. “I feel it in their reaction. Mutual respect rather than suspicion. This is…” She looked at Ronon. “This is a very special moment in the history of our peoples. For the future of the Pegasus galaxy.”

“So, what is he saying?” Woolsey asked Ronon.

“He is speaking of a common enemy in the Wraith, that you have come from a faraway place to offer assistance to Pegasus with the fight, that you see they are themselves a great and noble race of warriors…that you are honoured to meet and share with and recognise they will be instrumental in the great battle before us.” Ronon looked back at John. “He speaks as a Satedan, and they recognise him as such. They see him as a lost son of Pegasus, that his arrival has been foretold in their histories and they are willing to consider an allegiance with the warrior who speaks for many peoples. They see our group represents many worlds.” Ronon let out a breath before continuing to translate. The emotion of hearing a strong Satedan voice coming from John overwhelming. “They were saddened by the loss of Sateda as a planetary nation. Over the centuries many Satedans have joined their family. They are overjoyed to see Sateda still has representation in the galaxy.”

John gestured towards Teyla and she stepped forward and bowed to the council. “I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tegan, and leader of the Athosian Council. I bear witness that Colonel Sheppard is a great leader of many peoples. Their city holds many nations under one banner, my own included.”

Ronon stepped forward when requested and bowed before the council. “I am Specialist Ronon Dex of Sateda, and Major under Colonel Sheppard’s command. I bare witness that he is the true Military Commander of Satedan battle forces.” Ronon smiled at their next question and glanced briefly at John. “Yes, we are also soul bound.” Ronon revealed the mark on his hip, and the head of the council bowed to him and then to John.

Rodney huffed. “Why can’t we understand them, but we can understand you?”

Ronon shrugged. “I guess some things can’t be translated automatically.”

“Well, that’s sorted then,” John said turning back to Woolsey. “They’ve invited us to feast with them tonight, then return tomorrow to begin formal negotiations for the supplies we need to manufacture ZPMs.”

“How did you do that?” Rodney demanded.

“I don’t know Rodney. But so far, they don’t like you very much, so if I were you, I’d keep my voice down a bit.”

“Why don’t they like me?”

Teyla sighed. “They see you as disrespectful to John’s command, Rodney. Questioning him in front of strangers.”

“What about me,” said Woolsey. “Do they like me?”

Teyla smiled. “I would allow John to do the talking for the most part. There is a mutual connection there that they understand beyond mere words.”

“The Satedan spirit,” Ronon added to clarify. “But they see you as spikey, McKay. Your energy makes them uncomfortable. They are willing to tolerate you to a degree out of respect for us.”

“Maybe I could have better luck with their scientists?”

“No, Rodney.” John’s tone was sharp. “Do as you are told or go home. I will not allow these talks to break down because you got your feelings hurt. Now man up.”

Hiren approached and whispered something to John. He nodded. As Hiren walked away, he turned back to Woolsey and sighed. “They don’t want McKay here for the feast.”

“What? Why? I haven’t said a single word to them.”

“It’s your tone,” Ronon said. “Your attitude towards Sheppard, who they view as a great ally they have been waiting for.”

“Oh, please. We’re supposed to believe he’s some kind of messiah now?”

“Enough,” John barked. “You will leave. And if you continue to disrespect these people, not only will you never return, but I will remove you from my team.”
Teyla reached out her hand. “John…”

“No, Teyla. I will not have Dr. McKay’s little boy feelings interfere with this mission.” He handed her his pistol. “Take him back to Atlantis.” He turned to Woolsey. “They are happy for you to stay for the feast, sir. However, they have requested Ronon, and I stay overnight so that we can meet with some of the Satedans before the negotiations begin. I’d rather you didn’t have to travel back to the gate alone tonight, so it may be better if you leave now with Teyla.”

“Understood, Colonel.”

“I’d say to head back early afternoon. Without McKay.”

Ronon could sense the tension. Wasn’t sure what to say to ease it. For any of them.

“What if they need specifications, have questions we can’t answer?”

“Bring Zelenka. They won’t acknowledge McKay in any talks. He has to learn he can’t treat people like that. It’s one thing to be that way with us, we understand him to an extent…” John paused took a breath. “I know he doesn’t mean it quite how it comes out, but they don’t. To bring him back here would be to directly undermine their cultural foundation.”

“I will see you tomorrow, then. With Zelenka.”

Rodney stepped towards him. “John…”

“Not now, Rodney.”

Chapter Text

“How are you feeling?” John asked Ronon. He seemed calm but there must be a shitstorm going on underneath. If he was even half as freaked out as John by the council meeting. They’d been shown to their room for the night, given time to decompress before dinner. Ronon sat on the bed, still quiet and John took a moment to really look, to feel his way. He could sense awe, a reverence for their surroundings, confusion, which yeah, John had plenty of that too, but the underlying emotion, confirmed as Ronon looked up to meet John’s gaze, was love. Overwhelming, undeniable…

Ronon smiled. “I always knew there was something special about you. Sensed the Satedan heart. To have it confirmed in such a way.” He patted the bed beside him and John sat feeling embarrassed, uncertain for some reason.

“I don’t know how that happened. The language just kinda took over, you know. The instinct to address them myself. I could see they were wavering, and I knew I had to do something.”

“You did the right thing. The whole energy of the exchange changed when you spoke in Satedan.”

“How did they know we were together?”

“The stories say they can hear more than words” Ronon stroked John’s cheek. “My guess is they see energy, perhaps, I’m not sure, but I know the sun is different. I don’t understand science like McKay, but we were taught in school about how different solar systems within Pegasus create races who see different ranges of visible light on the electromagnetic spectrum. Some peoples are known as Seers. Special abilities to read intention, detect truth and deceit. I suspect the Ukara have that ability.”

“Makes sense. You showed him your mark. Should I have…”

“It wasn’t necessary. They understand I wouldn’t have a mark if you didn’t have one too. We’re a matching pair, after all.”

“We really are, aren’t we?”

“In any world. Any galaxy.”

Ronon pushed John back on the bed and straddled his hips. “Even like this our marks kiss each other.”

“They would, if we weren’t wearing so many clothes.”

“I like your thinking.”

The dinner was informal, thankfully. John didn’t like standing on ceremony. Lorees chatted excitedly about giving them a tour of the city, the mines, manufacturing. John tried not to feel intimidated being so short compared to the Ukarans. He barely reached the shoulder of most of them, and others were taller again. But there were a small number, presumably the Satedans, who were closer in stature to Ronon. Lorees paraded them around various groups for introductions, and eventually they stopped at a table where John could see Satedan tattoos on show.

“Ronon Dex,” one of the men said standing to shake his hand. “I knew your family well.” He bowed his head to John. “Commander Sheppard. It is truly an honour.” He returned his interest to Ronon. “I am related by blood to Melena, your first…”

“Melena was very special to me,” Ronon said, interrupting. “But we were never bonded. John is my first and only bond.”

“I apologize. I didn’t realise you two were… This is excellent news. We should celebrate more than finding a brother. Is your ceremony complete?”

“There were no other Satedans to witness, but we completed full trials and combat before our current mixed nation peoples.”

“This is incredible. May your family here be granted the honour of witnessing as Satedans to formalise your ceremony, Commander?”

John could feel the rising tide of emotion in Ronon, clearing away the awkwardness that came with Melena’s name, the sadness that accompanied it.

“That would be a fitting tribute to our union, thank you.” John had no idea where the formality and timbre of his speech came from but in this environment, it was instinctual and for the first time that evening he wondered whether he was still speaking Satedan.”

Lorees touched his arm. “It is a mix,” he said. “We do not advertise it, but we do understand the languages of Pegasus. However, we choose to close our language to others. We have always had this ability and find it easier to maintain our decision not to trade or travel.”

“So, I’m not speaking Satedan?”

“Oh, you are. And actually, some of your dialect is Ukaran. It is what acknowledges to us your place within our family. You, and Ronon Dex will always have a home here, Commander John Sheppard. I sense your council leader, Woolsey, is unsure how long the expedition will remain in our galaxy. He hopes your ability to trade with us will extend their time here. Should they ever leave, you are welcome to come home to us. And as an honour to you, we would extend that welcome to the Athosians. There are many suitable places upon our planet where they could establish their own community.”

“That is very kind of you. But I do have one question.”

“Anything. I should also say, that should you choose to join us, we would extend an invitation for you to join the Ukaran council.”

“I appreciate it. But what I really want to know is how you’ve remained untouched by the Wraith.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Maybe we can leave Ronon Dex to catch up with Marsan, and we can retire to a more private location?”

John looked at Ronon laughing with the Satedans. He nodded once to John, and John followed Lorees into an antechamber to the main hall.

“Please, sit.”

“You’ve been able to develop far beyond any of the other civilisations we’ve encountered in Pegasus. I mean, you’re giving the Ancients a run for their money here.”

“Ah, not quite, but I appreciate the recognition. The development has only been since the last big war, when the Ancients left and the Wraith slumbered. But it is still many millennia.” He poured drinks from a decanter. “Initially, we too faced Wraith culling. However, once we began to mine the mineral that creates the compound you are looking for, and that we use for our fuel cells we found the culling stopped. We believe the mineral is active in the air of the planet and creates an…energy, or a substance that is poisonous to the Wraith, but particularly to the ships.” He looked at John. “The small ones. You understand they are living, in a sense.”

“Yeah, we figured that out. We’ve captured and studied the large Hives also.”

“We have had them attempt to cull the planet from space with the large ‘Hives’ as you call them. How did you fly them?”

“Teyla, the Athosian leader is able to merge her mind with the Wraith and their technology.”

“That is very interesting. We did not know that was possible.”

“It’s like the gene for the Ancient tech, but hers is with Wraith.”

“Ah, that is what I sense in you. The DNA of the Ancients. We are very close to our Ancient cousins. I believe our lineage is the same, from a group that separated from them eons ago. It was soon after the culling ended that the council decided we should stay upon this planet. We already had several outposts who chose to remain in the galaxy at large, one of which developed over time to become Sateda. Another shared ancestry.”

“Does Ronon know that? That he’s technically Ukaran?”

“We do not advertise that. The Satedans are a proud race. We would not take their heritage from them in such a way. Our Satedan family here are also unaware of the distant connection, only that our languages are of the same root.”

“Understood. But does that mean Ronon will have the Ancient gene? He’s never tried to use any of the tech before.”

“This I do not know. But he will certainly be able to access ours. As, I am sure, will you, Commander.”

“Please, call me John.”

“As you wish. Shall we return to the party? I sense Ronon Dex is growing concerned by our absence.” As they started to walk, Lorees spoke again. “May I ask a question of you, John?”

“Of course, though I suspect you already know the answer.”

“It is not one I understand.”

“Okay, then.”

“The man you were with earlier. McKay, I believe you called him.”

“What about him?”

“He is abrupt. Disrespectful. What purpose does he serve in your inner circle. I can see he is…important to you. That you…care for him, and actually he for you and Ronon. I do not understand this affection in someone so…difficult.”

“It’s complicated,” John admitted. “We have developed a…deep bond of friendship, brotherhood, I suppose, through shared experience, trauma, and having to fight our way out of some delicate situations. He is difficult, but he is also courageous and brilliant. His mind—”

“Is no greater than yours.”

John laughed. “Whatever you do, don’t tell him that. What I mean to say is, he has much more experience with the sciences. I am more…practical, shall we say. He has been instrumental in saving my team and my people. He is abrupt, callous, but he is a trusted friend since the expedition began, before I had so much responsibility.”

“I see how that would extend your tolerance of him.”

“We have a condition on my planet, very common for those with brilliant minds. It interferes with their ability to correctly interpret social situations. He doesn’t mean to be disrespectful. He just doesn’t see it. You could openly disrespect him, and he wouldn’t notice that either. Unless you were questioning his genius.”

“I see. Then I will try to be more tolerant should he return to work with us in the future.”

“That shouldn’t be necessary. I know he isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Woolsey will bring another of our scientists with him tomorrow. Dr Zelenka. Also, a brilliant mind, but highly honourable and respectful. He is from a different nation on my home planet, with an entirely different nature. Gentle almost, but highly capable and empathic. Not to your level, but he senses mood and the energy in the room. You will like him…I am sure of it. We will name him as the liaison with your science teams.”

“That does sound preferable to trying to negotiate your McKay.”

“Do you all have the ability to pick out thoughts?”

“Only council members, you will be relieved to hear. It is a rite of passage when inducted into the council. A process that peels away the binding that limits out thoughts to our own heads, if you like, our feelings to our own bodies.”

They were back at the table where they’d left Ronon. The group around him much larger now. “I will take my leave so you can speak with our Satedan family.”

“Commander Sheppard,” Maran said, barely able to contain himself. “Ronon tells me you have an original kai’reth. We would ask your permission to grant us use of it to complete the Satedan ceremonies with our Ukaran partners.”

John sensed Ronon had declined the request, citing John’s permission as reason, but really not wanting them to use his family heirloom.

“Well,” John said, “We can do better than that. How about we return to Sateda and gather a collection for you to distribute and use as necessary.”

“You still visit Sateda?”

“We have a museum,” Ronon said. “A whole suite of rooms dedicated to art, music, and antiquities.”

“Ronon Dex,” a woman John hadn’t been introduced to yet, “we have many instruments from Sateda but very little music. Would it be possible to access your library?”

“I’ll see to it next time we visit.”

They were so excited, like children discovering candy for the first time.

“I don’t suppose any of you have a cortada?” John asked. “Ronon tells me he plays, but I am yet to hear it.”

“Oh, yes, yes. I will retrieve one. It would be an honour.”

“He does,” Maran said. “Ronon, I remember seeing you play at the Atrium as a teen. You were already very accomplished. It was shortly before I left Sateda, and I remember that evening still with a warm heart.”

Ronon nodded to him, put an arm around John’s waist and kissed his cheek. “And it will be my honour to play for you, soul kin,” he said into John’s ear.

“Ah, is that what you’ve been calling me all this time. I understand it here.”

A space was cleared in the centre of the hall. Ronon had disappeared from sight to prepare but soon the room hushed as Ronon sat, placing the cortada between his thighs. John had been given a seat at the front, and he leaned back, settling in for the show. His heart felt so full it was hard to hold everything inside his skin. ‘Don’t try’ he heard in his mind. He looked around to see Lorees smiling at him. He raised his glass. ‘I knew you would soon hear as we do. Welcome to our inner council, John Sheppard of Sateda’. John didn’t know how to respond so just raised his own glass in return.

He focused his thoughts on Ronon. He’d never seen him nervous before. Not in the training room. Not in combat. Maybe when he’d spoken to John of Satedan love, yes, this held echoes of that preparation to bear his soul before John. And tonight, with that strange, dark instrument resting against him like something sacred…Ronon was hesitant once more. It was subtle. The way he flexed his fingers over the strings, the way his jaw tensed like he was holding something too fragile to name.

The cortada was beautiful in a brutal kind of way, dark wood, almost black, with a carved spine like a creature from the deep forest. Not elegant like an Earth violin, not clean like a cello. There was something older. Something wild.

John waited. Ronon glanced briefly in his direction, catching his gaze a moment before his eyes closed. John could almost feel the beat of his heart Ronon channelled through his body.

Then it began.

The first sound wasn’t a note…it was breath. Like the cortada itself was waking up, drawing air through hollow bones. Then came the resonance: low, rich, and alive. A kind of sorrow wove into it immediately. Not weepy, not indulgent. Weighty. Like it carried names that had been lost, places that no longer existed.

The music built slowly, curling around John like smoke. A rhythm emerged, not metered like Earth songs, but natural. It was the rhythm that lived in footsteps over forest paths, the pounding of fists on warriors’ drums, the quiet thunder of blood rushing through a body at rest.

John couldn’t look away. The movement in Ronon’s shoulders, the arc of his neck, spoke to him. And the sound… The sound tugged something loose inside him, deep and buried. Something that had never had words. Something he’d carried for so long it had become invisible. And now, somehow, it was being played. Not for him, but through him. Around him. Into him.

He could feel it bone deep and beyond, in the inner parts of himself.

This…this is the ‘Satedan heart.’

It wasn’t patriotism. Not like Earth where music painted borders. It wasn’t about land or blood. It was… this. An ancient thread that moved like wind. Fierce, but grounded. Grieving, but joyful. It was Sateda, in ways John could never touch. But here, now, through Ronon, and the sound, he felt close enough to experience the truth of it. Be part of it.

And suddenly, the tattoos inked into his flesh with intention meant more. The ceremonial prayers John hadn’t understood at the time revealed their meaning.

The one on his hip, accessible to trusted ones, as Ronon had trusted the council. And the private vow for their eyes only. The insignia on his neck…the mark of a commander not just by rank, but by bond. They weren’t symbols anymore. They were keys to an identity he hadn’t understood until now.

The music shifted, lighter, teasing. Playful. The way Ronon lit up when he was fighting someone he liked. John couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips.

It wasn’t just a song. It was Ronon.

The way he moved. The way he guarded his pain, the way he let his love run hot and bare. The way he stayed. Loyal. Solid. And now this gift, a piece of his soul, exposed through wood and string.

When it ended, John didn’t speak right away. He couldn’t. He wiped the tears from his cheeks, sat through the thunderous applause, and held Ronon’s gaze through the cheers and the stamping. As the noise subsided, Maran approached him.

“And now,” he said, tears falling freely. “Now you have heard the song of Sateda, Commander John Sheppard. Welcome home.” John was pulled to his feet, embraced, and clapped on the back, until finally he found himself before Ronon. Ronon’s face was flushed, his heart still pounding. He rested the cortada gently upon the ground with the bow and stood. Again, instinct took over and John raised his hands, palms to face Ronon. Ronon met him with the same gesture, a brief touch of hands before they hugged fiercely.

“Come, come,” John heard Lorees call over the crowd surrounding them. “It is time we grant leave to our guests until morning.”