Title: A Runner's Lament
Author: Lady Valmar
Genre: General – Ronon introspective study
Rating: T
Archive: FF, SGAHC
Spoilers: Season 2
Date: 05-13-06
Summary: Ronon's continual nightmare finally finds resolution as he reflects on the turn of events so far in his life. An introspective character study.
Warnings: In this one page Ronon has a wife. Even though Season 3 we get a picture of his former lover it is not clear whether she is his girlfriend or wife.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis or any of the characters, So stuff not owned by Stargate Atlantis is mine and therefore please ask and do not infringe nor steal my original themes, concepts, ideas or characters please.
... .LV. ...
A Runner's Lament
By Lady Valmar Ronon's eyes fluttered open as he sat up in bed. It had been that dream again. The same one he had been having on and off periodically since he had met Teyla. The same one that made him tremble when he dared to even think about it. It was the memory of her. His wife.
In the dream it was almost always the same. Her sweet brown eyes opening for the last time and a breathed 'I love you'. Then him running off to the sound of more Wraith invading the city. He was determined not to let his anger and grief infer with his judgement but how could it not? It was his wife they had killed.
Then the dream jumped forward to the year later when he had been taken by the Wraith and made a runner. He had wished they just killed him then but something made the Wraith stop. He didn't know it at the time but something about his body was not…he guessed edible to the Wraith.
It was then he thought surely since he served no purpose but to be eaten and since they could not do that what else to do but to kill him. Apparently the Wraith had other ideas. He was made a runner…and in spite of it all he would not just simply give up living for someone's amusement. No, he was a fighter…still am…and he wouldn't let his grief consume him to death. No… he just couldn't.
They say, so he had heard, that it is always the survivors who suffer the most. He wasn't so sure about the truth of that statement until he had felt loss so close to home.
When he had been a runner all he had wanted was to be home. With his kin, his brothers, his people and he knew that would never happen. He had been a runner and nothing more. Living life on a fragile balance between prey and predator. He didn't have time to spare on people or friendship. All the people he ran into anyways died.
He brought the Wraith with him where ever he went and death with it. It was a terrible burden to bear, knowing he was probably the only survivor of Sateda and that more would die if he stayed too long in any one place.
Deep down all he wanted was his wife back really. As much as he missed his people and the life he had lead it was his wife he missed most. But there would be no tender kisses at night and no more of her sweet smiles. He was alone and there was nothing he could do about it.
He had lost track of the days, months, years. What time was it? Would he find food today? What should he do if he run into a village? Leave. Of course it was the right course of action but he longed for company during those years of exile.
Now people surrounded him. People! He didn't have to be a runner. He didn't have to worry about his next meal. He didn't have to constantly check the skies as he did when he had been a runner. He was even given a place on Sheppard's team and all he wanted at the moment was to be alone. He missed her so much.
In all that time, exiled from Sateda, he hadn't ignored the grief but he had learned to suppress it. He had had to. It was suppress it or let it consume him and seek death.
Now he was free to feel that grief again.
Oh how he missed her! Her loving touch and brown curls. The sweetest woman he had ever met. She always had a way of making the day better, making all his hard work that much more meaningful. When she kissed him goodnight and said I love you, he could sleep. Now, his bed was empty. Of course in those seven years he hadn't even a bed to sleep in.
Now he had a bed…heck a whole room! But suddenly back in something familiar and the memories he had so long ago suppressed resurfaced.
Sitting up, Ronon, rubbed his neck, looking out the window of his room. How could he avoid the grief he knew he had to face? Still, he clung to the wall he had placed so high within himself those past years.
As the ocean rippled softly in the late evening air, he reached for his coat. It was time. He knew it. He also knew he did not want to have to deal with that Dr. Heightmeyer...was it? He understood her usefulness and respected it but this was something that no one could help him with but himself.
Shakily, he reached for his knife and began to tear away a small piece of stitched lining near the middle of the jacket. Cutting slowly away at the stitches, the tiny bag he had put there began to reveal itself. Once he was finished he dropped his knife.
There she was… a picture in a sealed, waterproof bag. Feeling his heart rate increase, he gently removed the photo. His wife. The only women he had ever loved and who had ever loved him back.
The photo reminded him of those first few weeks being married. She had been so excited that every chance she got she told people her married name. Mrs. Dex. He admitted he thought calling his own wife Mrs. Dex, sounded cold and removed from someone who he loved so much. But at the same time those two words meant a lot. It wasn't just some name for formalities.
She was his wife and no one else's. She had carried that name proudly. Sometimes just to say it, she'd call him Mr. Dex and he in turn would throw back Mrs. Dex. It was just their way. Never for one moment had he thought it would sound cold or emotionally removed.
Then another memory sparked of her receiving her award to be a nurse at the local prestigious hospital. He had never felt more prouder of her. She wasn't just doing this for them but for others. He had to admire that in her. He could see the picture blur. His eyes were watering.
No, he was weeping.
There are times when even the hardest and toughest of men cry, and this was one of those times. There was and is no shame in have feelings. He felt the tears. Even on the last breath of his life he would never cry. But for this…and probably only for this would he cry. It was short and to the point.
Closing his eyes for awhile, he held her picture close until he could do it no more. Then swiftly he went to the window, giving her picture one last look before tossing it into the watery depths below. She was gone and it was finally time to move on.
He had faced the grief and now he could sleep. He had a new home. A new family. A new start. He even had a sort of sister…Teyla. He was no longer alone. And that he could bear.
A/N: Well my first real Ronon introspective look. I'm usually a Sheppard or McKay writer but I felt it worth my time to write something for Ronon. He just keeps opening avenues that make me write more about him. Please give me a 'helpful' review on this and if it should be out of character by any means and what do you suggest that might fix it. Again…still a student of learning how Ronon Dex ticks so be gentle.