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Ronon would never have said it to Heightmeyer or the woman who eventually replaced her who he had also been obliged to talk to on occasion (for a given value of talk). But every time he ran, every time he shifted his posture, picked up the pace and moved at speed, he could feel the Wraith at his back whether they were there or not. Running through the city levels with Sheppard, running through the buildings of Earth that mirrored Sateda just enough to make him think, racing back to the Jumper laying down cover fire. Ronon could feel the adrenaline race through him, his hands itching for a weapon even when he was already holding one. Ronon was no longer a runner – but he became one every time he ran. He'd mostly stopped wondering if that would ever change.

However it was not inaccurate to say that even now long after he has stopped being a runner that the Wraith had often been at his back. Right now - as he dodged through the empty corridors of the Daedalus trying not to think of Jennifer's stubborn, stupid sacrifice which he should have seen coming - that was certainly the case. Todd would kill her, Ronon was sure. Never trust a Wraith and right now Ronon had had enough of running as he had so many times before. He would stand, he would fight, Wraith would die and as he listened to the footsteps of drones and a prisoner, he realised he could do a little more good at the same time.

He ducked into an armoury and grabbed a extra gun.

The next bit was more complicated but whatever the reason for the design, the hand holds in the ceiling were thankfully obvious. He clambered up bracing himself. Now it was just a matter of waiting and he did not have long endure inactivity long. He shot quickly as he swung down before the orientation of the angle could confuse his aim and handed the spare gun off to Jennifer, dampening down his surprised relief that she wasn't dead because there were still drones coming.

Then there weren't. There weren't live drones. There wasn't Jennifer. There was no more Daedalus. There were trees, there was snow on the ground, two prone Wraith drones and the gun he had handed her lying on the jungle floor. One Wraith twitched and instinctively he put another blast of energy into it before bending to check they both were dead. He snatched up the machine gun and examined the area. There were no tracks. None. Snow normally made tracking easy - and this didn't look that freshly fallen.

Ronon had never seen Wraith tech that could do this and were normally incapable of using anything ancestral. But there was little he put past them even this had been an odd moment to try it. Todd had already betrayed them.

"Jennifer?" he called, first outloud and then into his static filled ear piece, receiving no response. He shivered, shrugged, armed his energy weapon picked a direction and set off at pace. Running again.

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Ronon had found his feet so to speak - this place made no sense but he had heard several explanations for why this was now and it wasn't likely to get any better. There were people here he knew. There were no Wraith.

Well there were some and Ronon pulled a knife crouching over the drone. Raising the knife over the wrist joint he lifted it and then paused at the familiar voice. He flipped the knife over jammed into the frozen ground and pushed himself to his feet in one easy motion. "Doc," he said grinning widely. "Just garbage disposal," he dismissed the wraith - abandoning the idea of a trophy and pulling Carson into a bone crunching hug.

And bone crunching was probably the best term for it, as Carson very nearly had the wind knocked out of him. "Easy, big man," He said, barely finding the breath for the words.

"Newly arrived, I take it?"

Ronon clapped Carson on the back and let go nodding, "couple of hours," he advised. "Unlike you I hear." Here long enough to not have died. Ronon was giving the island a free pass for today since he had that news. "Brought these with me." He nodded the dead Wraith and bent for the knife again - the cold would make them tough but well preserved at the same time.

He stumbled backward a step once he was let go, catching his breath again.

A couple of hours. Well, that was a relief. At least Carson wouldn't have to try to explain how the island worked, as it seemed that someone had done it already. Ronon wasn't asking questions about where he was and how he'd gotten there, after all.

When Ronon bent over the dead wraith as he if meant to take the knife to it, Carson held out one hand to stop him, taking a step forward. "Just one minute now," He said, "What d'you mean you brought them with you? There aren't any more, are there?"

He looked briefly around the area, warily. He certainly hoped there weren't more. Even if Carson had always been rubbish at shooting weapons (and didn't particularly like to do it), it would have been a comfort to know that he could at least attempt to protect himself.

Ronon looked up at Carson and cocked an eyebrow. Like he'd be hanging about here if there were Wraith loose.

"I shot these ones on the Daedalus," he said. "And the remains came with me. No live ones." He shrugs and kicks the drone that has slightly more singed armour - "that one was a bit twitchy so I made sure of it."

"Right," Carson said, though he was still a little wary. It probably wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone from the IPD take a look around just to be safe. The last thing he wanted to have one of them turn up in the middle of the night.

Nasty buggers.

"Well, in that case, do you mind...not doin' whatever it is you're about t'do there?"

Perhaps it was a bit creepy, but Carson wasn't about to pass up the chance to be able to study another mostly whole wraith. Even the one who looked slightly singed would be a decent specimen.

Ronon sheathed the knife, he wasn't unaware of what the general opinion of this particular tradition was. He just didn't let that stop him.

"You want them?" he asked, having picked up something of how these things worked. For Carson he'd give them up easily - if it was something squeamish however he'd get the bones when Carson was gone.

"Aye," Carson said, "I can use them in my research." For it had been a long time since that sort of thing had made him squeamish.

Everything he'd been researching on the wraith had been halted when he'd been brought to the island, and though there wasn't much in the way of refrigeration in the infirmary and lab, he'd get what information he could while he could.

At least for now, the cold and snow would preserve the bodies fairly well.

Ronon nodded, he'd expected as much and if research hadn't worked out - not last time, not this time, he knew better than to expect anyone to stop trying.

"We can't leave them here," he said, bending to heave up a drone. "Teyla saw them - it wasn't good." Though it hasn't lasted, "where do you want them?"

"The infirmary, I suppose," Carson said, "It's up at the compound. Has anyone shown you the compound yet?"

He wasn't sure how he was going to be able to preserve them longterm just yet, so it was probably best to get started straight away. Perhaps there was someone there who'd be able to help Ronon carry them back.

"Yeah," said Ronon, who had not seen anywhere that seemed suitable for Wraith storage. He hefted one dead Wraith over his shoulder his expression and grimace of distaste. "Lead the way."