A/N: spoilers through mid-season four finale.

This is a strange story concocted by my subconscious. You've been warned.

Christmas 2008

Ronon didn't think in earth days and months, so he rarely anticipated any of their holidays. There was one, however, that he anticipated more than anyone else would have expected. He knew it was coming by the music, the decorations, and the sudden joy exhibited in his colleagues. To make things clear, he didn't anticipate the holiday for any of those things. He could care less about the celebrations, and he had enough Satedan festivals on his mind without adding the earth ones to his mix. Rather he waited for what he knew would happen; for it had happened on every Christmas since he first came to Atlantis. Like the changing of the seasons, he had come to expect it.

Ronon stood on the north pier looking out at the rising moon. Atlantis was on another world, but it was still home. It wasn't the city or the place that made it so, and he was just now beginning to understand that. No, it wasn't about location, it was about people. About family. Ronon Dex, warrior, last survivor, and wanderer, had finally found a home. And that was why he had torn himself away from the festivities to sit up here and wait, looking up to the sky as though expecting a visitor. In fact, that was exactly what he was waiting for.

Christmas 2006

The first time Ronon heard about Santa Claus, he was incredulous to say the least. "You're telling me a fat man travels down chimneys and delivers presents to all your world's children? Why doesn't anyone shoot him when he tries to break in?"

Rodney swallowed his jello in one gulp and fixed Ronon with such a horrific stare that Ronon had to look behind him to make sure he wasn't about to be attacked. Finding nothing, he turned back to his teammate. "What?"

"He's bringing gifts, not trying to rob your house!"

"Doesn't sound right to me."

It was later that evening, when the moon was high in the sky and the sound of jolly music emanated from every speaker, that Ronon made his way up to the north tower for peace and quiet. It wasn't that the earth holiday wasn't enjoyable, but rather the amount of people all in one room, drinking alcohol, and singing off tune was too much.

He'd only been on Atlantis a few months now, and every time he turned a corner half the inhabitants made a hasty retreat in the opposite direction. He also had heard their talking when they thought he couldn't hear. He was the giant, the alien, the stranger among them and few were sure what to make of him yet. So being packed in a room full with all of them, it was just a bit more than he could bear at the moment. He wasn't even sure he'd made the right choice in staying with these people yet.

Ronon watched the stars, memorizing the patterns. It had been so long since he had stayed on one world long enough to memorize more than a few key stars. It felt wrong, but it also felt nice. As he watched, he began to remove the stray tinsel from his dreadlocks. The decorating committee had outdone themselves, bringing the festival to life with lights, trees, and stockings (though why anyone would hang giant socks on a wall was beyond him).

He'd lost himself in the night sky, just staring and thinking, and wondering what the future would bring. Wondering if he should run from Atlantis. Wondering why he stayed.

Hours had probably past, the festivities below still in full swing, when he heard something different. Bells. At first he thought the sound emanated from downstairs, but as they got closer and louder it was clear they were coming from outside.

"Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!" came a faint yell.

Ronon was on his feet in an instant, gun primed. A red sleigh flew into view, led by a pack of antlered animals. Behind a fat man dressed in red was a giant bag, half open, yet none of the neatly wrapped boxes inside fell out.

Was this the man that raided people's homes on Christmas night? McKay had said he was unique to earth, but was it possible the man had followed them here? If so, there was no way Ronon was going to let him in. No one broke into Atlantis without his say so. Not as long as he was there.

Even as he thought this, he realized this probably wasn't Santa. A hallucination? An enemy? He wasn't sure which.

"Ho ho ho!" The voice called loudly still, and the sleigh swooped about in the sky, twirling as the strange animal creatures seemed to laugh.

The sleigh came to a halt by his feet, and Ronon aimed his gun straight at Santa's head. "Who are you? What do you want?" he demanded.

"Why it's Christmas, Ronon. What do you think I want?" The man's nose was red despite all of the fur covering him. It was 80 degrees out, and Ronon couldn't understand how Santa couldn't be sweltering in that outfit. It was probably a hallucination then.

"You're not real."

"That's what they all tell me when they finally see me. But here I am. And look, I bear gifts!"

Unperturbed by the gun to his brow, Santa turned quickly to the back and reached in his large red sack. "Oh, you are going to love what I brought you. Let's see. Where could it be? Ah, here it is."

Santa's arms emerged from the red sack with the tiniest of packages. "Yes, yes. This was made especially for you. Filled with just the answer you've been waiting for."

"How do you know who I am?"

Ronon thought of not taking the package, processing all the different types of traps that might lie within. Yet for some reason he did reach out and eventually, hesitantly, grabbed the gift in a quick sweep. He didn't, however, let down his aim.

"I'm not letting you in," Ronon told the jolly man.

"No need. No need. I've given what I came here to give. Sleep well and merry Christmas!"

It wasn't until Ronon saw the sleigh reaching higher and higher into the heavens, that he realized he probably should have called for security. He'd been on his own for so long, it was hard to think about that kind of thing…to have to answer to others. To have to protect others.

Bouncing the package in his hand, Ronon contemplated opening it. If Santa was a hallucination, so was the gift. If, however, Santa was an enemy in disguise, the gift was probably dangerous. But if he called the others, if he aimed on the side of caution, what would they say about his hallucination? Would they think seven years on the run had driven him crazy? Would they be wrong?

Slowly, cautiously, he grabbed the ribbon and pulled. The knot slipped easily out place. Ripping the red paper, he examined the cardboard box within. It had no markings. Tape strung across all ends of the box, as though whoever made it was afraid of the seal breaking before its time.

Christmas 2007

Ronon told no one of the package or the encounter, though he wasn't sure why. It stayed in his memory alone, keeping him wondering if it was a prank, an enemy, or an illusion. When, one earth year later, the tinsel started finding itself in doorways and people started singing about reindeer and some baby, Ronon knew Christmas had returned. Having heard nothing of Santa since that first encounter, Ronon wondered if the apparition would come again.

Reaching into his top drawer, he took out a cardboard box, no longer covered in mounds of tape. Within the box, he grabbed the gift. It was a circle made of rope and twine, with a single metal leaf in the middle. Carefully, he placed it in his palm, feeling the rough edges of the pendant.

"Santa isn't real, is he?" Ronon asked Sheppard as stick met stick in a warrior dance.

John laughed, giving Ronon the moment he needed to swing and bring Sheppard to the ground. Sheppard fell, wincing, and then reached a hand up for Ronon to help him stand. Ronon was surprised to see he was still laughing.

"What?"

"Just…Not the type of question I was expecting right now, that's all. What makes you think he isn't real? Don't you think someone can exist whose sole job it is to give out gifts to children?"

"Doesn't sound real."

John reached for the nearest towel wiping away his sweat and breathing hard. It had been an intense fight, and John really was getting better at this.

"He's someone we tell our kids about. You know, keep the wonder in them for a while. Makes them light up."

"Bet they don't feel too happy about it when they find out it's a lie."

Sheppard glanced up at Ronon, the slightest hint of sadness passing through his eyes. "It's better than not having been allowed to believe at all."

As the festivities began below, Ronon found himself torn between wanting to stay and finding his way back to the north tower. In the end, his curiosity got the best of him. His feet hanging over the side, his gun ready and primed, Ronon held the bracelet tight in his palm. Before meeting Santa, the last time he had seen one of these was in Sateda.

"The chieftain came by with this today. It's such an honor!" her eyes lit up as she placed the bracelet on the wall. "Oh, Ronon, I'm so proud of you!"

For a brief moment, he thought he could feel her lips on his cheek. But it wasn't real. It hadn't been real for a long time.

Caressing the pendant he thought back to Santa's words. "Yes, yes. This was made especially for you. Filled with just the answer you've been waiting for."

The moment he saw the leaf he knew. He knew the answer, and the question, though none of the why or how. That was going to change.

He waited. Listening for the bells, hoping to confront the man that had brought this back into his life. Ronon waited, and waited, determined to find the answers to his new questions. But the sound of bells did not come.

When he was unable to take it anymore, he shouted at the skies, "Show yourself!"

"But who is it you would like to see?" Another voice answered. Ronon swung around, his heart beating pounding and his breathing paused, for there she stood. Melena.

"You're not real," he whispered, longing to reach out and hold her. To feel her soft skin. She smiled so beautifully, just like Melena smiled.

"No less real than Santa," she replied.

His gun was in his hand, and he wondered briefly if he should raise it, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Melena. It wasn't her, but he wanted her to be. With all of his soul he wanted her to be.

"What's happening?" he asked, surveying his surroundings without once letting his eyes off of her. Was she deadly? Was he ill? McKay would say it was probably a machine doing this; that would make sense.

"You summoned me, Ronon. You wished so hard to see me that your wish was granted."

"Who are you?" he tried again. It was not that long ago that the Wraith had brought him back to Sateda, where memories of her flooded his being, strengthening him. Now here he saw her, real or not, did it matter? Did it really matter?

"You never were one for small talk."

"You're not her."

"No, but I could be. I could be whatever you want me to be."

Determined to keep focused, Ronon lifted his gun, aiming it at her. He knew he was visibly shaking, but what man wouldn't in the same circumstance? He was one of the toughest warriors on Sateda, he had spent seven years as a runner, but yet one vision could make him crumble. "Who are you?"

"That's not what matters, Ronon. What matters is that you are here. That you are home and you are fighting. What other answers could you possibly seek?"

Ronon blinked. It was only for a split second, but the next moment he was staring at a blank wall. Melena was gone.

The pendant flashed in his hand. Where once it had been silver, it was now gold

No one reported any sightings in the north tower. Not that Ronon had reported his either. Convinced something had gone wrong, he visited the infirmary only to receive a clean bill of health. He then enlisted McKay's help to search for any evidence of what could be causing this, without explaining to McKay what this was all about. McKay found nothing.

Christmas 2008

Tinsel and music came to Atlantis again, in the way it had each year before. This time, there was less rejoicing, and more sorrow as the loss of Elizabeth, Carson, Kate, and so many others made the holiday season the hardest of all. Ronon gathered that on Earth this was a time for families to get together, and Atlantis was a family, only it was minus too many members.

There were those, however, determined to make the season bright (their words, not his), and thus the parties continued, and everyone forced on smiles to pretend all was normal and all was good. Ronon knew better, they all did.

Clutching the leaf in his hand, he made his way up to the tower and waited, knowing another apparition would appear once more. The stars were different, so he set to memorizing their new places in the sky, biding time until it came again--whatever 'it' was.

"You are waiting for something." Teyla stepped out of the shadows, taking a seat near Ronon. "Every Christmas I have seen you come out here."

"Yeah," Ronon replied. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Teyla smiled bright at him, "There is little anyone could tell me anymore that I would not believe. Too much has happened over the last few years."

"I know what you mean." Ronon clutched the leaf tighter in his palm, allowing the jagged edges to scrape his skin. It was still gold.

"What is that?" Teyla asked, leaning closer to him. The leaf seemed to give its own light, as though shining right through his hand.

"An old gift." When Teyla did not ask more, Ronon shifted. "It's a Satedan Warrior Crest. The chieftan would give it only to the strongest so they might hang it on their walls, and whenever the warrior returned he would see it on the wall and know that he was home and his home was there because of him. It was a great honor to be given one."

He felt embarrassed telling her these things, but Teyla always understood, always listened. She was the wise one among them, and he respected that. Truth be told, he had come to rely on it, though he'd never tell her that. It would show too much weakness.

"The chieftain gave you this then?" Teyla asked, gently taking it from his hand. He thought of holding it back, but allowed her to touch it.

"No, not this one."

"I do not understand."

Ronon drew in a deep breath. Would the apparitions come if Teyla were here? Would he find the answers he needed?

"I got it a few years back. When I first came to Atlantis." Then before he knew what he was doing, he told her all about the illusions or the intruders, the gift, and his quest to understand.

"It must have been very difficult seeing her."

"Yes." Ronon pushed slightly away. "You should go. I don't know if they'll come if you're here."

Teyla did not move. Instead she glanced up at the stars. "Athosians have long held the belief that when our heart seeks truth that the Ancestors could bless us with visions to give us the answers we seek. In their wake they would leave a physical sign."

"Yeah, we believe the same. Wasn't a vision.

"Why do you say that?"

"No offense, but I never thought much of them. Ancestors or visions. Still don't."

Teyla returned the bracelet to Ronon's hand, shaking her head. "You said yourself that McKay could find no explanation."

Ronon shook his head, standing up and leaning over the rail. The water was so dark at night, it was hard to know it was even there. "Doesn't mean there isn't one."

"Would you rather believe in Santa? Or that it was Melena?"

Ronon eyes lowered to the metal floor. Melena was dead. After all this time, it was still hard to accept. "Could be anything," he finally conceded.

Teyla came by his side, leaning her back against the rail. "What answers did the pendant give you?"

Ronon didn't answer right away, instead glancing at the stars as though expecting to see a sleigh.

Finally, Ronon, cleared his throat. "I wanted to know if I should stay in Atlantis."

Teyla nodded slightly. "This is our home now."

"I know."

"Then you found the answer you were seeking?"

"Maybe. Doesn't explain--"

Teyla shrugged. "Not everything has to be explained."

"Try telling McKay that."

Teyla laughed.

"Don't know. Maybe he's right," Ronon whispered, keeping his ears primed for the sound of bells, or Melena, or some other secret visitor. He felt silly doing so, but he couldn't stop waiting.

"I do not believe he is," Teyla finally answered.

For a short while, silence fell between them, but Teyla still made no move to leave and neither did apparitions appear. The twin moons made their way down the horizon, soon to be replaced with the sun. There would be no answers tonight.

"Do you still doubt your choice to stay on Atlantis?" Teyla asked.

"No."

"Then what other answers could you possibly seek?"

The words caught Ronon by surprise, echoing Melena from the year before. Cautiously, he turned, his arm reaching toward his gun. "What are you?" he asked.

Teyla…or not Teyla as it were, smiled. "It took you long enough. You are not as alert as you used to be."

Ronon reached for his earpiece to call security. Whoever this was, it had gone too far. It had taken Teyla's form. It could be any of them. He was furious at himself for being fooled. He should have known Teyla was at the party, he had seen her there, he should have known.

"Relax, Ronon," not-Teyla said. "You have all the answers I can give you. I shall not come again." Then in an instant, without him even blinking, she was gone.

When Ronon returned to his quarters that night, he took the pendant carefully from his pocket and hung it over his door. The best decision he had ever made, apart from marrying Melena, was to come to Atlantis and to stay in Atlantis. This was a city of warriors and those warriors were his family. He was home, of this he was certain.

THE END