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Though Ronon had not especially been looking forward to the party or a New Year that involved being stuck here, he had not envisaged it would end like this. After watching Jennifer drench herself in champagne, he had seen confirmation of the custom Vala had told him about and when looking for Jennifer - just in case he'd come across her and John Sheppard. Really really drunk John Sheppard.

Which was not, strictly speaking, without it's entertainment value in itself. He shrugged off his suit jacket and shoved it at Jennifer, "put that on." he told her - he might only have a shirt but it was at least a dry one.

Of course some traditions were the same everywhere. "You," he told John, "are going home." John however was having none of it and when Ronon picked him up off the couch it became obvious why. He'd been sitting on Carson who was clutching a bottle of alcohol - the sort which uncomfortably Ronon had last seen at Carson's funeral. "And you," he added hauling him up too and staggering slightly because they were struggling. He tried not to feel too annoyed as he dragged them to the door. When Ronon got drunk he had the decency to be happy about being carried home.
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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 Dex

January 2015

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