The transporter doors closed once Ronon stepped into it, but his hand hesitated over the map interface. Was Sheppard actually right? Should he try and check on Emma?

He remembered where Lacey Peters' quarters were. Hard to forget; she was the first woman he had been with since Melena, his first step toward healing. He hadn't stayed long – just enough to satisfy the both of them – but he would never forget the place. The plant covered walls and smell of green had reminded him of his seven-year drought in the uncountable forests of far and unknown worlds. Forever would he remember the long walk back to his own quarters afterward and the need he had felt to mourn Melena all over again and cry for her once more. It seemed like she would continue to die a new death with each minor milestone in his life. Every stepping stone forward for him was one more step without her on the path they were supposed to share.

He filled his lungs and let the breath out slowly. Of all places, it wouldn't be right to try to find Emma there. It would be best if he left her alone altogether until he figured out what he wanted from her, anyway.

The icon representing the brig stuck out to him and he pressed it, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was seeing Janus awake and coherent due to the steady supply of enzyme, maybe it was the discussion of conversion to Wraith worship and withdrawal, or maybe it was the recounting the mission to Emma the night before. He wanted to see the Wraith they had brought back. It had cost them so much, after all; it had better have been worth it.

The doors slid open and he followed the ant maze of hallways to the prison cells. Somehow, this section of the city resembled the hive on Talus; there were no windows down there and the air had taken on the damp scent of mildew from the flood years ago. Taking a few sharp turns and even descending a few staircases to get there, eventually he came face-to-face with the thick blast gate that separated citizens from undesirables. He rummaged through his pockets until his fingers grasped his hardly-used identification card. The majority of the city's systems were Ancient and only required a wave of the hand, but the brig had both – and he needed his ID card to bypass the Earth-based security system.

The tiny photo of himself caught his eye and he found he hardly recognized the person in it. It had been taken shortly after his arrival and acceptance into the Stargate program, nearly three years prior. In some ways, he still felt like that young specialist who had been swept up into the hive, but in other ways, he felt like a completely different person. Nevertheless, the big picture remained the same: he had a home and a life he valued in this galaxy and the Wraith were still a threat to both.

A quick scan of the card and the blast gate opened, revealing another set of doors, these Ancient in design. He shoved the key card back into his pocket and waved his hand over the sensor. Though the corridors had been dark and quiet, the brig was even darker, pulsing with a low current of electricity. Two golden orbs, retinas reflecting like those of a night predator, swiveled toward his location. The Wraith emitted a low hiss, almost in greeting, but returned its head and gaze to the floor.

"It's a bit early for another milking session, isn't it, Doc?" a regrettably familiar voice said before turning to look at him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Ronon asked with no preamble.

Captain Hanson raised his brow in surprise. "Not the doc."

"No," Ronon replied. "Couldn't get somebody under you to stand guard?"

Hanson took a few slow steps toward him. "Filling in. My lieutenant called in sick."

Ronon shifted so he could get a better look at the Wraith. Gaunt creatures they were to begin with, but it was clear this one hadn't fed in some time. Its cheekbones jutted out from its face and the jumpsuit provided for it lay limp over a wasting skeleton. Its hands were shackled in the front, linked to a chain around its waist, and a medical port was attached to its forearm, visible where one sleeve of the jumpsuit had been rolled up.

"And duty calls?"

The captain let out a huff of air. "Seems like there might be something going around. Lieutenant Taylor's not the only one out sick today, I hear."

Ronon redirected his attention to Hanson. No use skirting around the issue; he knew what he was trying to do. "You talking about Dr. Rogers?"

"You might want to monitor for symptoms yourself…especially since the two of you have been spending more time together than usual."

"I'm not too worried. Probably just her asthma. She's had a rough few days."

The Wraith had the audacity to sigh, loud enough for both of them to hear.

Time to change the subject. In normal circumstances, he wouldn't have engaged the man in further conversation, but he had no desire to continue discussing Emma with him.

"Looks like that thing needs to feed. Hopefully, Beckett will be able to get enough enzyme from it before it croaks."

The beast's eyes flickered upward again, centering on Ronon and making it clear that if it had its way, Ronon would be its next meal.

"Don't know. I let the doctor do his work, make sure the Wraith doesn't get any ideas about sneaking a snack, and otherwise don't ask too many questions."

The Wraith had yet to break eye contact with Ronon and he began to make his way closer to the cell. It stood still as Ronon got closer, scanning him from head to toe and back up again.

"Satedan," it said in a low hiss.

Ronon's heart and stomach lurched together, but he tried not to let the surprise show on his face. He couldn't give it the satisfaction.

"Did she tell you about us?" Hanson's voice came from behind him.

Despite his initial surprise at what the Wraith had said, Hanson's comment managed to split his attention. Keeping one eye on it, he glanced over his shoulder at the captain.

"Pretty sure this is a male Wraith," he said, gesturing to the prisoner.

"Emma," Hanson corrected, clearly in no mood for any sort of humor.

Ronon continued to look over at Hanson, the Wraith's remark still in the back of his mind. "That you worked together back on Earth? Yeah, she told me."

Hanson released a quiet derisory laugh. "That was how we met."

He knew the marine was baiting him, trying to get him to ask more, trying to rile him up or make him jealous and despite Ronon knowing all of this, it was starting to work. He found the distraction of staring down the Wraith easier than staring down the man. He got so close to the cell he could both hear and feel the buzz of the electricity running through the bars.

Without the Wraith's original clothing, it was difficult to tell much about it. The neatness and length of its hair indicated it was a soldier, albeit a relatively younger one, though likely still a couple thousand years old. Ronon didn't know much about Wraith markings, except that they served a similar function to Satedan tattoos, but the intricacy of this particular Wraith's markings likely meant he was either high ranking or part of the Queen's personal guard – perhaps both.

"We used to date," Hanson continued, despite Ronon's feigned lack of interest.

"Good for you."

"But when I got stationed out here…obviously the distance was too much so we called things off. Can't tell you how happy it made me to hear she had decided to transfer here, too."

"You think she transferred out here…because of you?" Ronon asked, careful not to fully turn his back on the Wraith, but enough so he could get a good look at Hanson. He couldn't help but say something. Was Hanson was saying these things to get a reaction out of him or because he truly believed them? A part of him was starting to feel like it might be the latter, which somehow made all of it worse.

"She had plenty of prospects back on Earth. Her work for Dr. Jackson was taking off and any other agency – government or educational – would have loved to have her. But ultimately," he shrugged, "she chose to come here."

"And in the half a year she's been here, you two really seem to have rekindled your old flame," Ronon said with all the sarcasm he could muster, summoning some vague recollection of Eva as he did so. Damn. So she did get the sass from him. "Like you were never apart."

That seemed to strike a chord with the captain. "Look, I've known her longer than you have. That's how she is. She likes to take things slow."

For the second time that morning, a flood of sensations from the night before washed over him. The Wraith's head twitched in response, too significant and well timed to have been a coincidence. It had to have sensed the change in him. Damned things. He'd need a shower after this.

He stepped away from the cell and toward Hanson. He was a large man, but Ronon had a couple inches on him. Looking down at him over the bridge of his swollen nose, he couldn't help the smirk that came to his lips.

"Does she?"

Ronon had been aware of Emma since she arrived in the city months ago, but they had only truly known each other for a few weeks; yet he already he knew what it was to hold her while she slept, to kiss her until their breath ran out, to feel her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in to her.

Hanson's expression changed from his usual put-on smugness to what had to be the first genuine show of emotion Ronon had ever seen from him – concern.

"I think I would know," he said through gritted teeth.

Ronon raised an insinuating eyebrow. "Would you?" He turned to leave. He had seen what he needed to see and clearly there was nothing else to be gained in this moment.

By the time he reached the door, Hanson called out to him. "Stay away from her, Dex."

Ronon rounded on him, closing the distance between them in a few swift strides. "Or what?"

"I can and will make your life a living hell."

Ronon exhaled shortly, a sneer spreading across his face. "I would love to see you try."

Hanson opened his mouth to reply, but Ronon kept talking.

"What you don't realize is that I've already been through hell." He glanced significantly toward the captive Wraith. "Lost everyone. Lost everything. There is nothing you can do to me."

A peal of laughter followed by soft applause came from the cell. Seemingly disinterested, the Wraith had actually been observing their entire interchange and was now laughing at them. Once it was done, it sighed in satisfaction. "Such splendidly simple creatures you are."

For the second time, Ronon turned to leave, unsure of who he wanted to throttle more.

"We'll see about that!" Hanson called out. "You better watch your back, bitch."

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed! Appreciate it!

I would also like to give myself a pat on the back for successfully using the word "orbs" to describe eyes in a fanfic. Mark it off my BINGO board.