The Wrath of Ronon

Cainwen: who said anything about Ronon accepting the situation? He didn't even know about it yet. Enjoy and Please Review! Or Else!

Dr. Weir was the first to recover from the shock.

"Ronon...what are you doing here?" she asked casually as she dropped the onesies into the drawer and walked over to him. It had been agreed that no one would tell Ronon about this until the last minute. The knowledge of a wraith on the way to stay would make the former runner broody, and a broody Ronon was a thing generally acknowledged as very very bad. For one thing, in such a mood, he had a bad habit of breaking the marines he was supposed to be training. A system wide email had been sent out to this effect.

Ronon held up the laundry basket. "I was looking for you guys when I ran into the little guy with the funny hair. He shoved this at me and told me to follow the trail of annoyance Rodney always leaves behind."

He looked around at the crib, partially completed glider, dresser and baby paraphernalia. "What's going on?"

Elizabeth clasped her hands, pursed her lips and stood in her best I'm-going-to-tell-you-something-you're-really-not-going-to-like stance. "We're going to bring Cullough's daughter out of stasis and bring her here in the hopes that by raising her ourselves she will become like Ellia and be willing to help us with the knowledge she possesses," she explained coolly but quickly.

Ronon stared at her. "A wraith?! You're bringing another wraith here?!" he shouted.

"Yes, Ronon," she replied, clearly trying to remain calm. "She's an infant right now, and poses us no threat.

"She's a wraith!" Ronon shouted as he dropped the basket. His eyes blazed as he looked around the room before storming out.

"Well," said Sheppard, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "That went well."

ooooooooooooo

Later that day, Teyla found Ronon angrily destroying another punching bag in one of the lesser-used gyms.

"Ronon?" she asked softly as she came in. "Are you alright?"

Ronon paused in his annihilation of the poor punching bag.

"How'd you find me?" he growled before resuming his doctor-recommended-anger-management.

"It was not difficult," the Athosian explained sweetly. "I knew you would be were everyone else was not. I simply looked for the most deserted area surrounded by the most terrified looking marines."

The Satedan snorted and missed the punching bag, which in its previously-acquired momentum, swung back and thwacked him soundly, knocking the air out of him.

"Oof!" he said, doubling over. Taking advantage of the situation, and knowing that she would never get Ronon to stay still enough to listen otherwise, Teyla knocked the large man over and sat on him, strategically sitting on his chest to delay him catching his breath.

"We did not wish to deceive you, Ronon," she explained calmly, in her best diplomatic-cum-mother-cum-school-teacher voice. "We merely thought it best not to inform you of the mission until it was nearing time to leave. Colonel Sheppard was worried you would be very angry and inadvertently injure someone."

"So you didn't trust me with this," Ronon gasped, his ire clearly rising with the color in his tan face.

"No," she reply slowly. "We are merely…sensitive to your…feelings regarding the wraith. We had hoped to break the news more…gently. We had hoped to avoid a situation like this."

"You're bringing another wraith here! How'd you think I'd react?!" Ronon expostulated as he tried in vain to shift the petite woman from his chest. The lack of air was growing disturbing.

"You are not listening," Teyla admonished him and bounced slightly to forestall his escape efforts. "We are not trying to do to her what we did to Michael. We are not trying to turn her into something she is not."

"THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A GOOD WRAITH!"

"What about Cullough?" Teyla asked gently.

This gave Ronon pause. It was difficult for him to think about that particular wraith, for it conjured two separate and paradoxical emotions within him, and he preferred to deal with one at a time, and basic emotions at that. On the one hand, the wraith had fed on John 4 times. That should equal bad wraith, which should equal hate. On the other hand, he had given John back the life he had taken, and John seemed to like the wraith, which should equal good wraith (which was supposed to be impossible under the laws Ronon considered to be running the universe) which should equal at the minimum tolerance for the wraith and his offspring (under the other laws Ronon considered to be running the universe).

"Hmph," he replied. "Can you get off?"

"Will you sit still and listen?"

"Yes," he rumbled, and Teyla leapt lightly off to sit next to him. Ronon sat up rubbing his chest.

"No experiments? No trying to turn her into a human?" he asked suspiciously.

"No," Teyla shook her head. "If we cannot win her over as a wraith, we will return her to stasis."

Ronon thought. "No leaving her alone?"

"No. She will be with a minimum of two persons at all times."

"Why exactly are we doing this again?"

"She possesses vast knowledge of wraith technology, among other things," Teyla smiled. She was getting through. Ronon thought for another moment, and smiled wryly.

"She's a baby, right?" he asked, and Teyla nodded. "I'm not gonna have to change her, am I?"

Teyla laughed. "No, Ronon."

"And first sign she's like any other wraith, back she goes?"

"Yes."

"Hmph. Still think it's a bad idea but," he shrugged. "I think most of what we do is a bad idea."

"So you will not injure any marines?" Teyla prodded him.

"Nope," he smiled his feral grin. "Not this time."

"Good," she reply, rising. "Then perhaps you could help myself and Colonel Sheppard finish the nursery furniture? I believe the next piece requires the use of a mallet."

TBC