The night air was cold, as if the entire world knew that something had happened and was waiting to see what would follow. Out on the balcony, even the sea around Atlantis seemed to stall ever so slightly. On the balcony, stood a woman dressed in blood red and standing tall, as if it could save the world.

Elizabeth could have done the waiting, the running over a thousand possible scenarios in her mind. But considering the circumstances she felt it would be a bad idea to just do nothing. So, she pulled out the letter that Teyla had handed to her a few moments before and told her to read it before she came to the meeting. She turned over the well-made paper in her hands, biting her lip softly and thinking over what could be inside.

She frowned and held the paper up. At first glance it looked yellow but now, she could see the different fibers inside. Gold woven with white—it was a tapestry that she could hardly imagine human hands making. Elizabeth froze when she realized human hands didn't make it, or at least, no humans she knew. It was Satedan, no other explanation. If it was Satedan than it probably came from Ronon and judging by the visible signs of handling, it was old.

She was holding a letter from the dead Ronon. Shakily, she eased herself onto the bench and carefully pulled open the letter, sliding out a meticulously folded matching sheet of paper. Unfolding it, she looked at the elegant hand, knowing that if she had seen the letter a few months ago she would scarcely believe that it had been written by Ronon Dex.

Dr. Weir,

If you are reading this then I must be gone. I know what you're planning to do, concerning Sheppard, and I doubt any of us will come back. I've probably sacrificed myself or done something equally foolish, all in the name of an emotion I've kept at bay for close to a year. Ironic, isn't it? Love for the people I cared for ended my first life, love for my planet ended my second, it seems rather fitting that my life come full circle before it ends again.

I would like to think you all mourned and moved on, that I'm nothing more than a passing thought every now and then, but I doubt that's the case—especially for you. Not that you cared more, but because you blame yourself. If I had to guess, I imagine you think that acting emotionally cost me my life and if you remove emotions (or at least bury them) then nothing will go wrong, or it won't hurt so much. It's the habit of a leader to bury their emotions, ttrust me, I know. I hope this letter gets to you in time, before you close the door on every possibility.

Possibility? Don't give me that look. I know about wasted possi bilities, things I will not go into. I also know that the looks you exchange with John Sheppard are full of possibilities that neither of you will consider. As someone who has died three times for love, I tell you that life without it is not worth living, maybe that's why I didn't make it this time.

I hope that you'll go on to lead the city as I know you can. But, there is an enemy you may not see coming. Aron Dex. There is much I should have told you but the time is past for that. All you need to know is he is evil and will do whatever he can to ensure that he has a throne from which to rule 300 people without a home. One of them, Solen, is holding all the keys—he will help you, if only for fear of me coming back and haunting him.

Please do not take my death as a reason to hide. If anything, take it as a reason to live.

And tell Teyla I'm sorry.

R.D.

Elizabeth didn't realize she was crying until the tears began to smudge the precious ink. Pushing the letter aside, she buried her face in her hands and wept, hot tears pouring down her hands. She was ashamed, at what she had become, at what she had failed to do, she had been a total fool and too scared to see it. She tried to stand up and found it impossible, all she could do was sit there and weep.

After what seemed like forever, she wiped the tears from her eyes and pulled out the second piece of paper. The one she had been carrying around with her for the past few days, the one that John had palmed her when he had given her the snowflake dangling around her neck. She opened it with hands that shook and looked at the words written on it in a messy too-familiar scrawl.

Hey Liz,

I'm writing this on earth and debating whether or not you'll ever see it. Who knows? Maybe I'm writing it far more for me than for you. But if you are reading it, then something's happened. Given recent circumstances I don't think I'm dead, but even I can't predict the future. I'm not very good with letters, the last one I can remember writing was supposed to be my last words on earth—but you knew that already. It's so weird to think there's another person walking out there who knows everything I do. I hope one day we'll talk about it, but if we don't then just know that if there had to be someone out there knowing every last of my dirty secrets, I'm glad it's you.

What we both know but won't say—

John.

P.S.

Notice how it never snows here?

"Hello Dr. Weir," came a calm, almost oily voice.

"Regent Dex," she said smoothly, turning to face Ronon's uncle.

He was dressed like a king, all in dark gold. Yet, even so, Elizabeth couldn't imagine him acting like one. The more she thought about it, the more Ronon's nature seemed fit to lead. Even so, the man in front of her was intimidating. She wished she was far away suddenly.

"Dr. Weir," he replied, just as formally, "I was wondering if you had seen my nephew."

"Unfortunately I have not," she said, slipping the letter into her dress, "but I do have a meeting to get to—" she faltered at the malice in his eyes when he sat down next to her.

"You lead your city very well Dr. Weir," he said, "I've noticed that. You've gotten people to respect you, despite obvious obstacles," he added looking down at her, his hand sliding up and tightening ever so slightly, "I admire that. Sateda is run by me, but someone like you could make a place there."

"Thank you," she said, "but I already have my place here."

"That place may not exist much longer," he said, his fingers tightening.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth asked, keeping her voice neutral, "if you are threatening me—"

"No," Aron said, his lips curving up, "I would never dream of threatening you. Not with your watchdogs around. But this city, this city does not belong to the people of Earth. I suggest you go home before it's too late."

"I'll keep that in mind," Elizabeth said, moving to stand up.

Aron's hand streaked out and grabbed her wrist. White hot pain shot around his hand where it touched her wrist. He was a warrior and he didn't let go, simply locked eyes with her. Elizabeth choked on her words as the pain burned through her. She couldn't move her wrist this time, she tried to open her mouth but her jaw was locked.

"What's going on out here?"

John! Elizabeth could have kissed him. He was standing in the doorway, looking absolutely livid. He swapped his formal gear for more casual clothing, black t-shirt and blue pants, but he had never looked better to Elizabeth. His eyes went from Aron's impassive face to Elizabeth's terrified one before settling on his hand gripping her wrist.

"General Sheppard, we were just discussing matters," Aron said smiling.

"Really?" John said, his voice sounding anything but questionable, "Dr. Weir was late for our meeting and I was concerned."

"No need," Aron said, "I'm sure Dr. Weir will join you in due time," he smirked, "right now, however, we have much to discuss. Confidentially."

"Is there a problem out here?" Colonel Lorne asked, coming outside.

He was in an even worse mood than John, considering he lost a fair amount of money. He was in no mood to deal with anyone and especially not Aron Dex. John gave him and look and turned back to Aron who met their eyes squarely as if nothing was wrong. John did not share the sentiment.

"I understand," John said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "however, as co-commander of Atlantis I must speak to Dr. Weir immediately. Colonel Lorne would be happy to escort you back to your rooms and Dr. Weir will contact you as soon as we are finished."

Aron stood up and Elizabeth was forced to do the same. For a heart stopping moment, John was worried Lorne was going to shoot him but then the man let his hand fall. He smiled and bid all of them farewell before walking out. John grabbed Lorne and told him that a hawk was blind compared to how closely he was going to watch Aron. The two were gone, leaving John and Elizabeth alone on the balcony.

"Hey, are you okay?" John asked, concern evident in his voice.

Elizabeth looked at him. At John who still defended her and fought for her, who was glad that she was the one sharing his memories, who still saved her even though it was probably the last thing she deserved—and before she could stop herself she had thrown her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.

"It's okay, I've got you," John said, tightening his arms around her, at the moment she realized just how true those words were.