She had begun to look forward to her work. She took comfort in the pattern of the routines of each day for they were the one thing she could rely on. And harvesting crops and weeding fields was easy enough work. A weed was a problem one could fix in a matter of seconds. A weed didn’t have emotions, couldn’t feel pain, and couldn’t mourn.

The edge of her hand was sliced and red mixed with the dirt stains as she tore at the blades of grass relentlessly. It had only been a week since she found out that Ronon had died, yet at times it felt like a year and at others it felt like he was with her only a few moments ago. She dug up the gnarled roots of a weed, tossing them into the nearby pile to burn. A slave close by began to sing, his voice a deep baritone. By now she knew several of the songs and after a few heartbeats she joined in. Tears began to slip down her cheeks as she worked, wiping at the sweat on her brow yet ignoring her tear trails. Her throat and chest were constricting painfully again and she forced her attention away from the pain and into the song and the earth before her. She knew Ronon wouldn’t want her to be in pain because of him, but she couldn’t shake her sorrow. The world no longer held any color and though she knew it would pass, the heavy weight in her chest drowned out all hope.

Without Ronon, surviving to escape or for the promise of rescue seemed without value. For him to have survived so much in his short life only to die like he did; humiliated and tortured on a world far from where he called home when they had both begun to kindle a beautiful light together was such a cruel twist of fate that she no longer had faith in dreams.

Life was all drudgery and pain, anyway, so this place was as good a one to die in as any. At least if she died there was a chance of an afterlife where she might see Ronon again, along with her parents and other deceased loved ones. She paused mid-verse as the song continued around her, letting her tears fall to the dirt as her sobs were hidden by the song. Her voice was a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Ronon.”

Lilliana gently shook Ronon’s shoulder to wake him again that evening. He slowly regained consciousness but when she removed her hand he relaxed and attempted to fall back asleep again.

“Ronon,” her voice called. “You must wake up and eat something now. I have some stew here for you.”

He took a deep breath then shifted his head a little, opening his eyes. His insides gave a small start at his unfamiliar surroundings yet after a few heartbeats he began to remember waking earlier. Lilliana smiled and brushed some hair away from his ear. “Do you remember me?”

He gazed at her for a moment then nodded, yawning.

She pressed the back of her hand to his cheek, feeling his temperature once more before pulling her hand away. He was more awake now and could see that she was sitting in a chair beside his cot with a small end table nearby. Her three daughters were seated on the floor, peering at him intently. They looked like they were in their pajamas and the littlest one was in the biggest one’s lap, sucking the two middle fingers of her left hand. He looked back to Lilliana as she started adjusting his pillow while he was leaning against it. “You’re very weak, but I’m going to try to help you sit up a little, alright?”

He nodded and started to lean forward. She reached out and braced his shoulders as he did so, supporting much of his weight as he slid his legs over the edge of the cot until he was sitting upright. His vision swam and he closed his eyes as dizziness started to grip him. Lilliana pushed against his weight when he began to keel over, steadying him. He suddenly felt like he was going to vomit as his back throbbed heatedly. He could feel fluids inside his injuries shifting and vaguely noted the tightness of bandages around his chest. Lilliana chuckled and he realized that he’d let his forehead thunk against her shoulder.

“Here,” she quietly said as she helped him straighten again, peeling him off of her. “Tell me when you’re not so dizzy, alright?”

He nodded again, breathing shallowly as he waited for the nausea to pass. His head hung and when he opened his eyes he realized that he’d been stripped down to his boxers with no memory of his pants being removed. And come to think of it, his underwear looked as if it had been washed... He chanced a deeper breath as his cheeks began to flush with color and he realized that his arms were shaking.

The trio of blondes was whispering as they watched and he shied away from their gazes, unable to remember any of their names. “Feeling better yet?” Lilliana asked.

He waited for a moment then nodded and Lilliana brought up the bowl of stew, scooping out a spoonful with a small bite of potato in it. She held it to his lips and he took a bite, knowing by the effort it took to remain upright that he couldn’t do that and feed himself at the same time. Lilliana smiled. “This is so much easier now that you’re awake and can sit up. I’ve been pouring broth down your throat for a long while.”

Ronon looked to her as she fed him another bite, wondering at all this stranger had done for him.

The toddler suddenly piped up in amusement, informing her sisters of the obvious. “Momma’s feeding him like a baby!”

The other two shushed her and Ronon glanced over at the amused child with a slight scowl, feeling ridiculous enough as it was without a baby making fun of him. When Sanura noticed his expression directed at her she screamed and leapt off her sister’s lap, sprinting into the adjoining kitchen. He immediately relaxed his features, not having realized that he’d been making a face at the child. Lilliana glanced over her shoulder to watch her child run away and sighed then looked back to the bowl, readying another spoonful.

Brianna cocked her head at him. “How’d you get into the river?”

Lilliana lowered the spoon to allow him to answer. He cleared his throat a little before hoarsely speaking. “I don’t know.”

Bo scooted forward a few inches on her knees. “Maybe you went swimmin’ an’ you almost drown. That happed to me once.”

Brianna narrowed her eyes at her younger sister. “I’m sure he wasn’t swimming, Bo.”

“How do you know?”

“Because adults don’t go swimming.”

He would have smiled at that if Lilliana didn’t shove another spoonful down his throat with an “Of course they do.”

“Well, you and Pa never swim.”

Lilliana answered without looking over her shoulder with another spoonful ready to shove in as soon as he finished swallowing the last one, too used to feeding infants. “That’s because we’re always too busy with you three. We used to go swimming all the time,” she paused as she looked at them over her shoulder. “Naked.”

Both girls’ eyes widened and they began to giggle.

Lilliana wasn’t paying attention and smashed the spoon into Ronon’s closed lips as he tried to swallow the last bite without laughing. She hastily looked back to him at the bump. “Oh I’m sorry, sweetie.” She pulled the spoon away and let him swallow. He studied her face as she glanced to a clock on the wall. He hadn’t been called an endearment in nearly a decade. She grabbed a napkin and began wiping at his mouth. “That’s probably enough for now, anyway. You don’t want to throw it up later.”

She held a glass to his lips again, letting him drink a few swallows then pulled it away, studying him again and smiling as she rested a hand on his arm. “You’re not shaking anymore. And your color is coming back. Your skin is such a beautiful color.”

He looked to her eyes again, not knowing what to say other than that it wasn’t as if he’d picked it out. His back was a continual pulse of fire, searing here and there as he breathed, and the constant pain was already beginning to drain him of his newfound strength. He leaned back towards the pillow, curling his legs up and Lilliana helped him ease back onto his side, furrowing her brows as he winced. “How is the pain?”

He grit his molars together, wishing Dr. Beckett were there to help him and opening his eyes again as he remembered with a jolt that Carson had died. “It hurts,” he admitted quietly and Lilliana nodded, rising.

“I’ll be right back.”

He nodded in return then sighed, feeling a flush of heat from the pain. He looked over to the two girls. The toddler had returned and all three now gazed at him expectantly. He wished he didn’t feel so terrible as he realized that he was serving as their entertainment. He gazed at them tiredly for a moment, waiting for Lilliana to return.

Bo sucked on her lower lip then raised her hand to him in a wave. He couldn’t help but smile a little, lifting a hand back. She grinned and looked to her two sisters as their mother returned, noting Ronon’s small smile. “Are you girls harassing our guest?” She winked at Ronon as she sat down beside him again, holding out a glass with a viscous white drink. “It will help with the pain.”

He eyed it as he leaned against one arm, sitting up enough to take the small glass in his hand and sip the sweet, syrupy medicine. He handed the glass back to her with a quiet “thank you.”

She smiled. “You’re more than welcome.”

Bo had scooted up just behind her mother. “What happened to your back?”

“Isabeau!” Brianna admonished as her sister looked to her innocently.

Ronon could feel warmth blooming in his stomach from the medicine and realized that it must contain some alcohol. It began to creep through his bones, relaxing his muscles as his mind and heart stuttered at the memory of the whipping. The sound of the crack of the whip and the memory of its cruel stroke, choking the air from his lungs and cleaving his flesh nearly made him shudder... and it was a child who had asked. He studied the red and black wounds on his wrists from his chains, wondering how long they had been swollen like they were now.

“I...” he began but didn’t know what to say. Though these people had shown him incredible kindness, the fear of them turning him over to his former state of slavery once they discovered the truth of his past froze his lips. The blonde of the little girls’ hair reminded him of the blonde hair and once-kind face of the woman who had bought him and his stomach felt heavy. Judging by the pain in his shoulder, his brand had been torn away with the rest of the skin in the area. He clung to the hope that they didn’t know he was a slave and struggled to think up an alternative explanation.

Lilliana was gently pulling a quilt up over his shoulders and spoke a she did so. “I’m sure it’s a long story, and one that you can tell us later, Ronon. That medicine is going to make you fall asleep in a few minutes.”

She stepped back as he let his shoulders relax, his mind getting too sluggish to come up with a probable alternative explanation for his injuries, anyway. His eyelids were beginning to droop as Lilliana pinned the curtain shut once more, giving him a smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He lay awake for a short while, hopeful of the fact that if he could heal and keep his identity a secret, there was a good chance he could find the stargate and bring back help to rescue Teyla. He fell asleep wishing she were there beside him, safe out of harm’s way.

Teyla was curled in on herself on her side, silently weeping on the dirt of the floor of the barracks, shuddering from the cold and the weight of her loneliness, vowing to find some way to give Ronon’s death a meaning beyond her ceaseless misery.

Branded Heart

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