Author's Note: This is a series of vignettes centered around Ronon and each of his team members individually as they try to help him cope with a different aspect of his ordeal at the hands of the Wraith. I wrote these tags because I felt a lack of closure at the end of 'Broken Ties'. Even though the wordless Sheppard/Ronon scene at the end was powerful, I would have liked to see more of Ronon's recovery.

I don't own any of the characters (to my biggest regret), and I only write this for my own and - hopefully - others' enjoyment.

As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Lahela, who proofed this in record time so I could post it before going away on holiday.

Sleep

Sheppard was kneeling before him. The defiant look in his eyes could not totally mask the fear that lurked there as well. Ronon felt the hilt of Tyre's sword heavy in his hand. No mercy to our enemies. There was only one thing he could do. The right thing. He felt almost dizzy with the power of his conviction. Uttering a guttural cry, Ronon raised the sword in one swift motion and drew it across Sheppard's throat…

The next thing Ronon knew was that he was sitting upright in his bed. He was drenched in sweat, and gasping for air. Suddenly the door to his quarters opened. He closed his eyes, blinded by the light that fell into his darkened room from the corridor. It appeared that it was early morning already.

Ronon dropped back into his pillows, his eyes still closed, willing whoever was a the door to go away and leave him alone. It was not the first nightmare he'd had, and it would not be the last. It would need time - a lot of time for him to come to terms what had happened to him at the hands of the Wraith Tyre had delivered him to. The shame and despair at having succumbed to his arch enemy began to rise in him again, when the rustling of clothing by his side made him open his eyes.

Teyla was standing by his bed, her baby son cradled in her arms. There was concern clearly written across her face, but something else. Was it pity? He sure hoped it wasn't.

"Is there something you need? I heard you cry out as I passed the your door," Teyla explained, adding with a small smile, "Torren was restless after his morning feed, and walking usually calms him."

Ronon just stared at her, unsure what to say. There was no way he was going to tell her about his dream. Teyla seemed unperturbed by his silence. She stood her ground, gently rocking the sleeping child. Finally she looked up from her son's peaceful face and addressed Ronon again.

"I have been meaning to talk to you for quite some time, but you have managed to… evade me," she said. "Your body is well on its way to heal itself, but I can tell that your mind is still in turmoil."

Ronon snorted. "Doesn't take a genius to figure that out."

"No, it doesn't," Teyla agreed calmly. "I know you are blaming yourself for what happened, but I assure you that none of it was your fault."

Groaning inwardly, Ronon turned his head towards the wall. He didn't need a lecture. He needed time and a good night's sleep without these recurring dreams.

"Becoming a Wraith worshipper was not a decision that was yours to make," Teyla continued. "The Wraith drown your spirit in their vile juices, and fill the void that is left behind with hatred and indifference to other peoples' suffering. There is no way you could have resisted them while you were under their influence."

"I know all that," Ronon growled, hoping she would leave him alone. But Teyla was stubborn. She took another step towards the bed. "It could happen to anybody. It could happen to me. So tell me, what is it like?"

Ronon's head snapped around. "What?"

"I want to know how it feels to be under the wraith's spell, to have no will of your own. Do you think at all? Or are you completely numb?

That was so typically Teyla. Always managed to put her finger right on the sore spot. Ronon wanted to grab and shake her for making him admit what he wasn't willing to face. But she was holding the baby…

"What do you think it's like?" he snarled instead. "It's horrible, it's terrifying, it's…"

His words petered out under her level gaze. Damn it, that woman could look right into a man's soul.

"Why do you attempt to deceive me, Ronon Dex?" Teyla finally asked. "My mind has blended with that of Wraiths. I know how strong and… persuasive they are."

Ronon's mouth was working, but no words came. Seating herself on the side of his bed, Teyla reached out a hand and placed it right over his heart.

"Tell me," she said.

Running his tongue over his dry lips, he finally managed to croak, "It felt… great."

Nodding her head, Teyla encouraged him to continue.

"Everything was so… clear. Either black or white. There was no doubt, no hesitation. You knew what you had to do, and you knew it was right."

Teyla sighed. "I can understand that such a state of mind would hold much appeal. One and only one clear path to follow..."

"Exactly," Ronon agreed. "And then the enzyme wears off and everything is so confusing, all these questions, choices, decisions…"

"Oh, I know that feeling only too well," Teyla murmured, looking at her sleeping child. "But that is what we are. Human. Allowed to make mistakes. To choose poorly. But we also have the power to set things right again."

There was a long pause, then Ronon answered her unspoken question. "Tyre."

"Yes, Tyre." Gathering Torren, who had begun to stir, in her arms again, Teyla rose. "I will always remember him as a brave and honorable man. Because that was his nature. The wraith worshipper was not him. And it was not you. Once your mind has eased, you will realize what a gift it is to make your own choices and follow your own path. Although some of us," she added, with a devoted look at the now obviously fretful baby, "may decide to forego that complete freedom…"

The ghost of a smile crossed Ronon's face as he watched Teyla leave. Then his eyes drifted shut as sleep claimed him again.