Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis." I am in no way trying to make a profit off this story, I am merely writing it and posting for my and other people's enjoyment.

Synopsis: Two worlds, two lives. How could he live here when the other world gave him everything he wanted, and this one took it away? RononTeyla

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence

Pairings: Ronon/Teyla, mentions Ronon/Melena

Spoilers: Runner; Duet; Trinity; Sateda; possible season 5 spoilers

Title: Broken Dream

Author: Dia.Dahling

Part 1/21

Dedication: A billion thanks go out to fyd on this one. Not only did she have to put up with the constant questions and beta'ing, but she WROTE the beginning of this story. I mean it more now than ever when I say that I NEVER could have done this without her. Thanks, sis! You rock!

Author's notes: Hey guys! This is fic actually has a funny story behind it. Fyd818 originally started it. The prologue and first two chapters are hers. For whatever reasons, she eventually abandoned the story, forcing me to pick it up. How could I leave such an interesting plot in the trash can? So, although it may be a little confusing at first, I hope you enjoy. Reviews of any kind are always welcome. They're my favorite part of writing.


Broken Dream

Dia.Dahling


-Prologue-

His entire world, gone. As if it had never existed. As if. . . As if. . .

Don't think. Don't feel. Ronon Dex clenched his eyes shut and allowed his hands to curl into fists. Reality twisted and faded in waves around him, mingling parts of the nightmare and his life. It confused him even more. This isn't real. It can't be real.

A little piece of a memory brushed at the back of his mind; flashed to the forefront so suddenly he jerked a little.

Something pressing against his chest, binding his wrists and ankles, holding him down. Pain erupting through his mind, white hot. The screaming.

Another memory swept through, this one a relief in comparison.

A warm smile stretched her lips as she reached out to hug him, her soft voice welcoming him back home to her, where he belonged.

Ronon gasped in a breath. That's what's real. That's home.

Why did his mind refuse to believe the truth of that statement?

Pain lanced through his head again when he tried to open his eyes; he quickly shut them and swallowed back the nausea that welled up in response. Where am I? Where's –

Sounds reached him and distracted him. Murmured voices, ones his mind dimly registered as familiar, argued lowly just barely within his range of hearing. He couldn't make out the words, but the inflection of tones were indicative of anger. Something scuffled and swished; a loud sigh; footsteps.

Silence again.

His stomach flipped. Someone was close, someone familiar. He could feel a gaze on him; soft, sad. The rustle of fabric as they moved closer turned his head slowly, carefully, in that direction.

Everything in him unknotted and calmed as a familiar touch soothed across his arm. Her voice pierced the fog of confusion in his mind and coaxed him back into welcome reality.

Ronon twisted his wrist and grasped her hand, twining his fingers with hers and marveling again at how perfectly their hands fit together. He squinted open his eyes, ignoring the pain and the nausea, desperate for even a glimpse of her beloved face.

She looked tired, worried, but she was there. Assurance swept through him, and he felt thankful and relieved that he was right, and this was real. He was home again.

"Teyla." His voice sounded so rough. Something nagged at him, whispered that there was a difference about her, but he couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly. He let it go for the moment.

"I am so thankful you are back." Her dark eyes were full of pain, her expression pinched and anguished. A single crystal drop shivered free from the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek.

Me too. He didn't say it. Instead, he reached up and brushed his fingers along her refined cheekbone to capture the escaping tear. "Please, don't cry." He hated it when she cried.

She shook her head. "Forgive me." Teyla gently pushed his hand away and swept at her eyes.

Now that he was assured of reality, unconsciousness was dragging at him again. "Sorry," he whispered. Safe on Sateda, with my wife. How can this not be real?

-To Be Continued-