Of Sins and Virtues – by Brophy
Disclaimer: SGA characters © the cool people who created them.
Okay, so I've become hooked with this series (who wouldn't be?). Thought it might be interesting to work on a canon/canon for a change. Ronon/Jennifer. I've taken a few liberties regarding areas of Ronon's past that have been left unclear on the show. Wanted to add a bit more history and memory, and I couldn't do that without filling in a few gaps. Anyway, hope you like it. The summary might not sound like Ronon, but you'll connect the dots as you read it... Hopefully.
This is my first post from this fandom, so please be nice. Imma noob. :B
He didn't mind the Wraith as much.
He hated them for all the lives they'd taken. He hated them with the knowledge of the lives that they would take in the future. He wanted to kill all of them, definitely.
But some part of Ronon had made peace with what had happened in the past; with Sateda being invaded and Melena being killed; with those days and nights that seemed to meld together into years as he ran and ran and ran. His rage was the only thing keeping him alive then. Whether he lost his sanity in the process was beyond him. Because there was satisfaction in that rage, because he knew that that single emotion would be worth something.
He knew it would turn into numbers of Wraith he could add to his slaughter list.
And that was worth a whole lot, in his opinion.
Sheppard had once asked, during their lunch break, about one of the short swords he carried with him; the one with the curved blade, dark black handle and engravings. He wondered about how Satedan weapons were made. Ronon told him simply that the handle was made from the arm of a Wraith. The humerus bone was cleaned, cured and soaked in a dye extracted from one of the native plants on Sateda. It was then engraved with designs and fitted with a blade.
He distinctly remembered the expression on John's face at the explanation, and how he said that he was 'officially creeped out'. Ronon laughed. If Sheppard was unsettled by the knife, he'd be utterly disturbed if he knew of the souvenirs he'd used to collect from his fights when he was younger. Fingers, hands, tongues, teeth, eyes. He'd cut them out, put them in a jar, and take them back to camp. Ronon and his friends would have bets to see who'd collect the most.
He'd always win.
Now that he thought back on it, it was a young and stupid and egotistical idea.
He didn't need souvenirs to remind himself of the Wraith.
Over time, he realized he had enough scars to remind himself each day.
But he still kept the knife.
It was from the first Wraith he'd killed. The one that had taken his father.
And he couldn't part with that.
Before his lunch break was over, John had told Ronon about the Seven Deadly Sins; a list of vices that was established by one of the religions originating from Earth.
Avarice, Sloth, Pride, Lust, Envy, Wrath, and Gluttony.
And then John paused before adding, "you're Wrath with a vengeance."
Wrath.
Unrestrained, fierce, and intense anger. Driven to kill and to hate; to retribution. Driven as he was to kill every last one of those Wraith. All it needed was a vowel and the two words were practically inseparable.
Wrath with a vengeance.
A slight smile crossed his face whenever his mind mulled over the words.
Ronon liked the sound of that.
But although he had a hell of a lot of wrath, it only surfaced because of the suffering he'd endured. Teyla had been the one to recognize that; know that for all the pain Ronon unleashed against those bastards, it never really equalled the pain he'd had to endure all this time. He'd lost too much, given away too much of himself. And he'd brooded over his mistakes, had wished on everything and anything that he could have taken it all back. Stopped the invasion from happening somehow. Protected his people better. Protected Melena.
Even if it had meant forfeiting his life. He knew that if it was in his power, he'd have made it happen in a heart beat.
But now that Ronon thought back on those dark memories, tranquility had ebbed its way into his mind, soothing the sharp ache of remembrance over his past. He still bore regrets over his previous errors; still reminded himself of the pain and the loss. But, as masochistic and twisted as it was, he felt a sense of satisfaction now.
Because without all that, Ronon wouldn't have been taken to Atlantis.
He wouldn't have a friend like Sheppard. He wouldn't have a confidant like Teyla. He wouldn't have someone to intimidate and tease like Rodney; a person who was more sharp with words and science than he was with fighting. Over time, he realized that the people on Atlantis had all become his family, whether living or long since gone. He wouldn't have been the same person he was today without them.
But most of all, Ronon wouldn't have met the one person that did much more than treat his injuries and mend his broken bones. She healed him, inside and out; heart and soul. She was the one that told him about the Seven Heavenly Virtues. She said he was unique because he was the eighth virtue, the exception, but the one she considered the most important out of them all.
"You're honest, fair, righteous," she said, those words still clear in his mind. "Sounds like Justice to me."
Ronon might not have believed it, still might not believe it, but he was glad someone thought well of him. It gave him a sense of purpose. A sense of belonging. And she made him feel like he was actually a good person.
She made him believe that he could love again; without fear, without painful memories...
Yeah, he didn't mind the Wraith as much...
Because he knew that without them, he wouldn't have met Jennifer.