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The night Ronon awoke to find Mikey on the floor, clearly having been helped--pushed--there by Ronon, he said, "I'm not from Madagascar. I don't even know what Madagascar is."

"A country, and no shit." Despite the words, Mikey didn't sound angry.

Ronon sat up and helped Mikey onto the bed. He soothed a hand down the length of Mikey's back while considering just how much shit he could get into for telling Mikey the truth and discovered that he really, really didn't care. What were they going to do, exile him to the Pegasus? To Earth? John would come visit him on Earth even if they told him he couldn't, and Mikey was there. The Pegasus was home.

Either way, really.

Also, Ronon wasn't entirely sure they could keep him in either place if they tried.

He didn't think Mikey would tell anyone. Well, maybe Gerard. And Frank and Ray and Bob. But Ronon had found that Mikey sharing secrets with the band was much like Ronon sharing secrets with his team: that was as far as it went. Ever.

Mikey said, "You don't have to tell."

"No, no." Ronon laid down next to him, facing him. "Sorry."

Mikey shook his head as much as he could against the pillow.

"I'm from Sateda."

"I've never heard of it. Is that an island?"

"It's a planet. In another galaxy."

Mikey was silent for a long while. "I swear to fuck, Ro, if the guys talked you into screwing with me--"

"Mikey." Ronon looked at him.

Mikey looked straight back. "Yeah, all right. Okay. So there are other planets, with people."

Ronon nodded. "Lots of them."

"No offense, but it so figures I would finally fall totally ass-backwards for a guy and he would be an alien. I am never gonna hear the end of this."

Ronon smiled a little. "You can't tell anyone, Mikey."

"You and I both know I'm gonna tell the band."

"Anyone else. And they can't either."

"Yeah, I sorta got that."

"It's-- There's a program that I-- John works for. And if it were revealed--"

"Bad things would happen?"

Ronon wasn't sure exactly what the bad things were, but they always made John a little bit paler and contributed to him sleeping even less than he normally did.

Mikey nodded. "Okay."

Ronon took a deep breath. "Sateda, my planet, it doesn't really-- Most of my people are dead. They were killed by a race called The Wraith."

"Sounds like something you'd find in a bad horror movie."

Ronon had learned about those from Mikey and Rodney. "Yeah. Sort of."

Mikey shifted a little and kissed Ronon's shoulder. "You survived."

"I-- Yeah. But they put a tracker in me and forced me to play a game of predator-prey with them. I was the prey. For seven years."

Mikey's breath stuttered for a moment before he simply wrapped himself around Ronon and held tight. Ronon said, "The scar, I know you wonder--"

"Sh, Ronon, you don't have--"

"That's where they put the tracker. I kept trying to remove it, but I couldn't see."

Mikey fit his palm over the mark in question. "Ronon."

Ronon tasted at Mikey's skin, just to ground himself, to know where he was. He said, "Sorry I threw you off the bed."

"I've survived worse."

That was part of what Ronon loved about Mikey, the way he was so many contradictions of strength and weakness so closely aligned, the way he wasn't afraid to be either. It made Ronon wonder if perhaps Mikey wasn't braver than him, in his own quiet way. Ronon said, "Still sorry."

Mikey sucked along the upper ridge of his ear for a moment before whispering, "Forgiven."

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