1. Breakfast

For seven years Ronon ate what he could, when he could. Stolen fruit. Bread, sometimes. Grubs. Maybe a bowl of stew, if he was pushing his luck. No: pushing someone else's. If he stayed longer than an hour, he risked bringing death.

The mess hall in Atlantis freaked him out at first. All those tables in the open, no way to watch your back. And the food was weird. Especially at breakfast.

Sheppard liked the little many-colored rings, floating in a bowl of milk. They were sweet, but not bad. McKay shoveled in anything he could find; Ronon could relate to that, though not to the way McKay seemed to crave coffee. He acted like it was Wraith enzyme.

Teyla just raised her eyebrow at him from across the table and smiled. It was nice, that someone else was an outsider too.

2. Wardrobe

Earth clothes were boring. At first he thought everybody dressed the same because they were all soldiers; their uniforms were dull, but he understood the point of everybody looking the same. "Same dress, same heart," Kell used to say. (Bastard.)

But then Ronon went to Earth for the first time, and the clothes there were boring too. Even the people who weren't in uniform. Sheppard and McKay kept talking about places called "San Francisco" and "the village" -- which was apparently a city, or part of a city? Ronon wasn't exactly sure -- like maybe he would stand out less there.

At Sheppard's father's funeral, Sheppard had told him people were wearing dark colors as a sign of mourning. But Ronon couldn't shake the feeling that Earth people always wore dark colors. Which was pretty funny, since of all the worlds he'd ever seen, Earth had the least reason to mourn.

3. Memory

"Our ancestors?" Elizabeth said thoughtfully, tilting her head. "Many traditional Earth cultures venerate ancestors; the Chinese, for instance --"

"So you don't remember your Ancestors." Ronon shrugged. "Okay." He would celebrate the rites alone. It was better than nothing. Having time and space for memory was a luxury.

"I'm sure we can help you with your rites of remembering," Elizabeth said quickly. "If you need company--"

"'S okay," Ronon said. "Nobody here knew my family anyway."

"I would very much like -- if it's not an imposition -- to hear more."

She studied foreign cultures, Ronon knew. "About the rites?" He didn't mean to let the anger show, but it did.

"About your family." Her gaze was direct.

"I'll be on the east pier at sundown," he said. "But the rites won't start until I can see three stars. It's an...auspicious time to tell stories."

"I'll be there," she promised. And she was.

4. Worry

"Sure, pregnant women can fight." Ronon didn't see why this was a problem.

"What are you, insane?" Rodney looked like he was going to keel over with shock.

"Thank you, Ronon," Teyla said serenely, and continued stretching.

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable," Sheppard began, sounding worried.

"Are you suggesting that I can no longer 'kick your ass'?" Teyla asked, her voice honey over steel.

"That's not the issue," Sheppard said. "But if anything happens--"

"To the baby?" Teyla rose and twirled her bantos sticks. "I doubt you can come within three feet of my belly, John."

"I'll fight you," Ronon offered. "If he won't."

"I don't understand why we're even having this conversation! Go do -- yoga, or something," Rodney said, sounding desperate.

"I enjoy yoga, but it is not as satisfying as sparring can be," Teyla told him.

"You people worry too much," Ronon said, stepping on to the mat.

5. Ink

"Haven't you ever been with a guy who had tattoos before?" Ronon raised his head and looked at Jennifer.

"Not as many as you have," she said, tracing the one on his wrist with her fingertips.

"On Sateda, most men had ink," Ronon offered.

"Yeah? I like it," she said, and blushed.

"You should get one," he said.

"What?" She sounded shocked, on the verge of laughing. Maybe Earth women didn't have tattoos? He hadn't seen any on the women here, but he'd figured they were all just hidden.

"Here." He rolled her over and mouthed her hipbone. "Like this." He licked a line across her skin, then another.

"That tickles."

So he bit lightly, just to make her laugh.

"Maybe someday," she said. It sounded like a promise.

She didn't ask what the symbol he was painting with his mouth meant. Mine, combined with home.

The End