1. The stuff Sheppard calls beer tastes terrible and has less kick than what Ronon drank every evening (with great solemnity, as eldest son with his father) while growing up. But it reminds him of nights spent with his squad celebrating another raid survived, of that sense of purpose and belonging he still hasn't found again. He's happy here, in Atlantis, but he's still other, for all that Sheppard doesn't seem to notice.
2. Teyla reminds him a bit of his older sister, although she has a grace and physical power that Rissa never found, despite long hours spent training. He'd almost forgotten he'd had a sister, after so many years spent Running, but now, sometimes, watching Jinto and the other Athosian kids play and squabble and grow. . . .
He might have had nephews and nieces, might have been called 'Uncle' by them, taught them how to be Satedan. How to laugh at the Wraith instead of tremble and to bury fear in scorn. (The Athosians do not tremble, but neither do they laugh.)
3. The first time he left Atlantis with Sheppard and his team, he almost walked away. And if he had, he knows, knows he would've been dead within a year. Two, at most, if he were unlucky.
4. When he was a kid, he had a pet zorn: stupidest thing in the world, but so soft and friendly and sweet. It died inexplicably four months after he got it, despite everything he and his parents could do. Watching it gasp away the last hour of its life, he realized that death is sometimes a good thing.
Sometimes. But mostly not.
5. If someone came to him and told him he could have Sateda back, have everything exactly as it was before without it being destroyed by the Wraith---
He would say yes, of course. He would have to say yes. But he's not sure he would want to. He loved Melina and his family and his squad, loved Sateda in his lungs and bones. Loved those people, those things. Loved them.
Now, though, he's someone else, and somewhere different, and has found new people to love, and he is glad that the choice will never be asked of him.