When the Rain Washes You Clean

[stillrose]

Title: When the Rain Washes You Clean
Fandom: SGA
Prompt: Hovel
Warnings: Non-con, rape, Slash, Ronon Dex/OMC
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ronon prefers the rain over the shelter of a hovel. Though the rain only brings back bitter memories.

Disclaimer- I don't own the characters; just borrowing them.

Feedback make my heart go pitter-patter.

Like a
heartbeat .. drives you mad
In the stillness of remembering
what you had
And what you lost ...
And what you had

Ronon had a choice; stay outside in the steady rain by a flooded fire pit or join the rest of the team in the small hovel for shelter. Ronon's choice was simple. Ronon would take the rain.

"Ronon," Sheppard called again from what constituted a doorway of the tiny and nearly dilapidated shack in downtown central of M5L-224. The elite team of Stargate Atlantis was stuck there until at least morning. "C'mon. There's plenty of room in here. It's even pretty warm with all the hot air spewing from Rodney."

"I heard that!" shouted the indignant Dr. Mckay.

"I'm good," Ronon suppressed a smile and shook his head to clear water from his eyes.

"Ronon," Teyla called softly. "Please join..."

"I'm good," Ronon interrupted his tone harder and with more edge.  This weather's no good for hunting. The words slithered into Ronon's brain unbidden. "'Sides, I like the rain."

"See, the man says he likes the rain," whined Mckay.  "So will you two kindly shut the door so we can stop letting out all my 'hot air.' Nothing is worse than being wet, except being wet and cold."

Ronon was glad he had his back to the hovel and the two people standing in its doorway. They couldn't see Ronon's reaction to McKay's words. A reaction that too clearly indicated that yes there were much worse things then being wet and cold.

"Ok, Ronon," Sheppard finally relented sensing there was more going on then the Satedan was willing to share. "However if you change your mind...."

"I won't."

Sheppard nodded and withdrew into the small hut. Ronon kept his eyes firmly fixed into the dark; blinking away the rain when needed. He sat on the hard and water soaked log by the useless pit. He wished memories were so easily blinked. He knew differently. Memories weren't so easily washed clean no matter how often he sat in the rain.

***

Years earlier

It was six months since he'd woken on that damn ship. Six months since he’d expected to die and found out there were worse fates. The Wraith hadn't fed from him. Instead they'd performed some sort of surgical rape on his body and left him a living, breathing, and mobile beacon. Ronon was no longer human; he was an angel of death. Where Ronon went, the Wraith followed. They may not feed off him; but he knew from bitter experience they fed off those he met and left behind.

Perhaps the Wraith expected Ronon to just give up or perhaps they just expected him to keep leading them to rich hunting grounds. Ronon didn't know. What he did know was he was determined to fail their expectations. In the last few months, he had learned a new trick; an old one to prey. He had learned to double back.

Unrelenting rain beat down on Ronon. When he'd been on Torath Ab a few weeks ago the weather was still mild and the sky clear. Of course then there had also been people. Now it was the rainy season and after a Wraith culling the world was wet, bleak and empty.

Ronon's stomach growled. The world wasn't the only thing empty. It had been three days since he'd last eaten and then it had been a handful of berries. He knew it had been much longer since he had eaten enough to sustain the pace at which he pushed his body.

He hadn't had much time to do his own hunting and he stayed clear of any signs of civilization on the previous planets he visited. Now, Ronon was wet, cold and very hungry. He trudged forward through the mud and away from the ancestor ring.

There were several advantages to doubling back to a planet already culled. The first advantage being it was poor hunting ground for the Wraith. The people were already culled so Ronon wasn't responsible for any new deaths.

The second advantage to doubling back was utilizing what was left behind. There was always food, weapons and clothing. These items were all the materials Ronon needed and for which villages on other planets couldn't afford for him to barter or trade.

Ronon continued to move forward. He was trying to make out distinct shapes in the dark rain. I couldn't just arrive back during raining season, he thought. I had to come at night too.

Ronon shook his head and wiped his eyes. He hadn't slept much in the last three days either. The Wraith were on him too quickly. All he could do was run and keep running. Ronon clenched his fists. I'm doing just what they want.

A flicker of light to the right caught Ronon's eye. He crouched low and watched. Something flickered again! Ronon remained motionless and studied the spot where he saw the flicker. He was rewarded with another small pulse of light and this time he could make out a shape. It appeared to be some sort of small dwelling. The light looked like it was coming from inside the structure.

Could there be a survivor?  Or could this be some sort lighting device left behind?

Torath Ab hadn't seemed to be that technologically advanced when Ronon had been there last. It seemed barely out of the Sateda's Sixth Age. Yet, Ronon really hadn't had a chance to study the people of Torath Ab or their ways.

They could have had some sort of independent lighting, Ronon thought. If they did they might have had independent heating as well. Cautiously he moved forward.

Ronon made his way silently toward the flickering light and what he could now see was a something that could barely be considered a hut. The structure was a miserable little dwelling; a hovel really. There were no windows but Ronon could make out the light as it filtered between the obvious cracks in the walls.

This close he could tell the light source was not some technological marvel left behind. Apparently it was small fire sputtering in a primitive fireplace. Survivor then?

Ronon shifted his weight to get a better angle to view through one of the cracks. There appeared to be a figure huddled in the far corner. The figure leaned against the wall unmoving, apparently sleeping.

Just as cautiously as he’d moved forward, Ronon began to move back. He’d have to find another hut. As he made a step back, the door of the hovel flew open.

Ronon didn’t need a lot of light to recognize the horror before him. However, the flickering light from the fireplace reflecting off the long white hair and the blue-pale skin did increase the hideousness of the image.

Ronon froze. The Wraith turned toward him and smiled showing its white and pointed teeth.

“A guest,” it hissed.

On instinct Ronon tuned and began to run. He didn’t get far before he felt the pain and the pulse of a blast from the Wraith’s gun. Ronon struggled to keep moving. Once again he was hit with pain and pulse. Ronon’s world briefly lit up giving illumination to the abandoned village. Then the world slipped away into the darkness as he fell unconscious into the mud.

When he regained consciousness he was flat on his stomach with no shirt. There was an uncomfortable weight on the small of his back. His arms and hands were stretched over his head. He tugged at his arms. His hands were apparently bound to something.

Pain brought Ronon’s attention back to his back. Cold fingers and claw like nails were digging into his bare flesh near where the beacon was buried.

“Runner,” the Wraith’s voice hissed above Ronon as it continued to dig around the scarred area. “You’ve been trying to remove the implant?”

Ronon pursed his lips and refused to answer. Instead he lifted his head trying to see how his hands were secured. There was a small but solid rod, with a swinging hook on the top, embedded close to the fireplace.

Probably used to hold a cooking pot, Ronon thought. The wraith had used some sort of rope like material to bind his hands and then with a very short lead had anchored his hands to the rod.

Pain flared in Ronon’s back again.

“Answer me!” snarled the Wraith.

“Fuck off and die!” growled Ronon.

Nails ripped down his back. Ronon bit back a groan.

“Not very well mannered are you?”

“Who cares if food has manners?”

“You’re not food, are you, runner?”

Ronon could feel small trickles of blood begin to drip down his sides.

“Lucky for me,” the Wraith said as he grabbed Ronon by the hair and jerked his head toward the far corner. “I’ve already fed.”

The figure in the corner wasn’t sleeping; he was dead. The figure was a lifeless desiccated husk. Something Ronon had seen too many times in his young life. Yet,  the sight of what was left when the Wraith fed never got less horrific.

“Apparently a survivor of the recent culling,” the Wraith continued. “Still, he was a good host. He provided shelter, a fire, and a very fine dinner.”

Ronon growled and tried to buck off the Wraith. The Wraith laughed, released his grip on Ronon’s hair and ran his hands down Ronon’s back. The Wraith extended its exploration running its hand down Ronon’s side; smearing blood along the way.

“You on the other hand have not fed well,” the monster said as it felt the prominence of Ronon’s ribs. “Since our host can no longer see to his duties, I guess I will have to see to them.”

The weight lifted from Ronon’s back. Immediately he rolled over and kicked out. His maneuver was met with laugher and thin air. His kicks had come no where near landing close to their target.

Ronon tried to scoot backwards to get more slack in the rope. If I can get enough slack I might be able to at least sit up.  However, there wasn’t enough slack. All Ronon managed to do was bring his hands in contact with the metal rod. The contact was short lived.

The Wraith laughed again and grabbed at Ronon’s ankles. Ronon kicked out but in the end he didn’t have the strength or the leverage to overcome the Wraith. The Wraith simply pulled Ronon back to where he had started. Ronon hissed through the pain as the dirt from the floor worked its way into the open scratches on his back.

“Now be a good guest and I will be a good host and feed you,” it said.

Ronon gave a mirthless laugh. “Why should I believe you?”

“You will not last much longer as a runner if you do not feed.”

“And you care why?”

The Wraith smiled again chilling Ronon despite his proximity to the meager fire.

“I have not had the pleasure of hunting you yet.”

“Go to hell.” Ronon snarled.

“Perhaps, but only after I have fed and hunted you,” the Wraith answered as it stood up and moved over to the dead villager. The Wraith rummaged through something near the corpse and then came back to a once again squirming Ronon.

The Wraith dropped a small pack beside Ronon. Once again Ronon attacked the Wraith with a flurry of kicks. Once again the Wraith easily subdued him. This time when it had control of the runner it simply straddled him. The Wraith settled its weight on Ronon’s thighs rendering Ronon incapable of any more attacks.

“You really are being ungrateful,” it hissed.

“Happy to disappoint.”

The Wraith reached over to the pack and pulled out a small round fruit. Ronon’s stomach clenched at the sight of food. The Wraith smiled and peeled the fruit dropping the peelings on the Satedan's chest. The smell of the food now prompted Ronon’s empty stomach to growl again. The Wraith broke off a piece of the peeled fruit and held it over Ronon’s mouth.

“Open,” the Wraith said. Ronon turned his head.

I won’t eat from a Wraith’s hand!  Ronon thought.

The Wraith laughed and slid the fruit over the bound runner's lips. A small bit of the juice from the fruit slipped between Ronon’s lips. It was sweet and enticing.

“Open,” the Wraith repeated. Ronon’s stomach clenched painfully at the command combined with the taste of the fruit. He was so hungry. I am Satedan warrior! I will not feed from the Wraith!

“Hunger is a powerful thing,” the Wraith said as it continued to press the fruit to Ronon’s lips. “Eventually it overcomes the mind and the will. Its one of the strongest natural drives there is. It is about survival.”

Ronon closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sound of the Wraith and the smell and taste of the fruit.

“Surely it is not wrong to survive, runner?”

A bit of the fruit slipped past Ronon’s lips and pressed against his teeth. Oh ancestors! It was good! Without conscious thought Ronon found his mouth opening wide enough for his tongue to sweep out and bring the fruit in to be devoured.

Ronon chewed and swallowed. He tried not to hear the Wraith’s laughter or think about the dead man in the corner. Instead he concentrated on how good it was to eat and to finally ease a little of the empty feeling inside him.

Another piece of fruit was pressed to his mouth. This time Ronon didn’t fight. Don’t think about it. Just eat. Just survive, he thought as he chewed. Ronon kept his eyes closed as the Wraith fed him a few more pieces of fruit. Then there was a pause.

Ronon heard the rustle of the pack again. He was tempted to open his eyes but the thought of watching the Wraith feed him was more than his damaged pride could handle. Something new was pressed to Ronon’s lips.

“Open,” the Wraith said again.

Ronon snaked out his tongue to taste what was pressed to him. He refused to just open his mouth obediently. Bread!  Ronon tasted bread! The Satedan tried to hook the bread with his tongue to drag it back into his mouth. The bread disappeared.

“Open!”

Ronon briefly fought with himself. His hunger seemed stronger now that he had actually broken his fast. It had been over a week since Ronon had had bread. If he wanted the bread he would have to obey.

Survive! Ronon silently ordered and opened his mouth.

The Wraith placed a small chunk of bread in Ronon’s mouth. Ronon quickly began to chew.  This time as he chewed he felt the Wraith’s hand stroke his cheek and as he swallowed the bread he felt the Wraith caress his throat.

Ronon opened his eyes and stared at the Wraith. The Wraith stared back and then reached into the pack to break off another piece of bread.

“Open,” the Wraith whispered.

This isn’t right, thought Ronon. He didn’t want this. He was a Satedan! The Wraith was playing mind games with him!

Ronon shook his head. The Wraith laughed and threw the chunk of bread into the corner by the corpse.

“You will be a fine hunt,” it hissed. “To bad this weather's no good for hunting.”

“Ah, poor you,” Ronon replied.

“It’s poor weather for hunting,” the Wraith said as it began to run its hands down Ronon’s chest; lightly scratching circles around Ronon’s nipples. “I can not feed and you will not eat.”

Ronon began to struggle and pull against his ropes while twisting his body. The Wraith maintained its perch and continued its exploration of Ronon.

“Still, there are other hungers we can satisfy,” it said as it leaned down and bit at the thin skin over Ronon’s collar bone. Pain shot through Ronon as he felt the Wraith’s teeth sink in and blood well up.

“Get off me!” Ronon yelled as the Wraith lapped at the blood while its hands scratched and stroked Ronon’s nipples.

Ronon bucked and the Wraith clamped its legs tighter against Ronon’s. The monster raised its head and smiled at him with a red smeared mouth and pink teeth. Then the Wraith brought its hands to Ronon’s throat.

The Wraith gently began to squeeze, cutting off air and blood in slow increments. Ronon tried not to panic as he felt his life being squeezed out of him. Though it wasn’t long before he began to buck and jerk against his ropes. Ronon’s thrashing only used up more of his precious air.

As consciousness started to fade and Ronon’s thrashing stilled, the Wraith leaned down and bit Ronon’s lips once again drawing blood. Ronon passed out to the sensation of the Wraith savagely sucking blood from his lips.

***

Once again Ronon came to face down on his stomach. Ronon fought to register what was happening. He knew it was important. The Wraith! What was the Wrait…? Then Ronon knew as he felt his leggings being jerked down. 

Ronon gave a raspy snarl from his bruised throat as he tried to scramble forward and away from the foul thing stripping him. The Wraith grabbed Ronon’s hips and yanked him backwards and sidled in between Ronon’s legs.

Ronon dug his feet in and still tried to move forward. He gained a few inches; enough to get his hands closer to the rod.

The Wraith just followed and burrowed close to Ronon. The runner was on his knees with the Wraith behind him. Once again Ronon felt nails rake down his back and then the cold hands grabbed his ass cheeks. Ronon struggled as he felt his globes parted to expose him.

NO! No! This is NOT happening! Ronon screamed inwardly as he continued to struggle.

The Wraith’s grip was tight. Ronon couldn’t break free. Then Ronon’s world seemed to stop in a moment of fear and horror as he felt something cool, smooth and hard press at his exposed entrance.

“Runner,” the Wraith hissed as it thrust forward. Ronon screamed as pain tore through him! He was being ripped in two. Once again he tried to scramble away from the Wraith.

The Wraith just jerked Ronon back on to its cock and began to thrust. Ronon nearly passed out from the pain. He could barely breathe. He fell face forward on to the dirt floor as he felt himself being torn and slicked with blood from the Wraiths brutal thrusts.

Ancestors! NO! I am Specialist Ronon Dex. I am a Sate.... Ronon couldn’t finish the thought. The Wraith continued to pound into him. The pain was overwhelming. Ronon felt himself not just being ripped in two; he was breaking in two. Blindly Ronon reached forward as if he had to get at least some part of himself away from the thing violating him.

Ronon’s hand closed around the metal rod. The rod was cool and solid beneath his hands. Where Ronon felt weak and broken; the rod felt strong and whole. Ronon shifted his focus away from what was happening behind him to his grip. Slowly he relaxed his body as much as he could and tried to ride out the pain as he gripped the metal bar.

Over and over the Wraith thrust into Ronon and just when he thought the thing must be close to release it would slow down or stop and then slowly begin to pound in to him again. It never spoke a world just grunted and groaned as it sought its pleasure in Ronon’s raw orifice. Every now and then it would adjust its grip to keep Ronon’s ass pulled tight to it or to dig its nails into Ronon. During those times the runner would cling to the metal rod as if his life depended on it.

It was during one of those times Ronon noticed something about the bar. It moved! While the Wraith yanked him backwards, Ronon had held on and the mortar around the base of the rod had given just enough that the rod moved with him!

At first Ronon thought he was imagining the movement but when the Wraith jerked him back and thrust him forward again, Ronon noticed the mortar loosened again!

If I can get this free, he thought. I might have a chance.

However, he knew any chance of hurting the Wraith would require surprise. He had to get the rod free before the Wraith had an opportunity to notice it had become loose or what Ronon was trying to do.

I am a Satedan Specialist! He mentally recited to himself as he realized what he had to do.

The Wraith almost lost its rhythm when it suddenly found it victim thrusting back and forward under it. For a moment it seemed startled and then it seemed amused. The Wraith laughed and continued fucking the runner.

Ronon tried not to think of how he was participating in his own rape. He ignored the Wraith’s chuckle and concentrated on the back and forth jerks on the rod. The mortar was getting looser. If he had just a little bit more time and a little luck he could wrest the rod free.

The pounding in Ronon’s ass started to grow wild and erratic. The Wraith’s breathing finally sounded out of control. They were almost there! It was an obscene race to an ugly finish.

The Wraith finally came yelling and shooting a hot liquid deep inside Ronon's bowels. At the same time the proud Satedan roared as he yanked the rod from the fireplace. Ronon slammed the rod back and into the Wraith as hard as he could.

The Wraith screamed and fell backward. Ronon ignored the pain of the Wraith jerking out of him and his abused body as he spun around and began to beat at the Wraith with the rod.

Over and over Ronon pounded the piece of metal into the Wraith’s face. He didn’t register the snapping sound of bone breaking or the blood and gore spraying him.

Only when he the metal rod became to heavy to swing anymore did he become aware of where he was or who he was. Ronon breathed deeply and stared at the bloody mass before him. Only the torso of the Wraith was identifiable.

Ronon backed away in horror only to trip and fall face forward; his pants were still jerked down around his thighs. Only throwing his hands out into the bloody mess that had been the Wraith kept him from landing in it. Ronon felt the bile rise in the back of his throat. He looked around. The walls of the hovel seemed to close in on him.

Ronon stood and jerked his pants up. He needed air! He needed out of here!  His thoughts spun. He backed towards the door. From there he had a view of all the death in the hut; the husk of the human in the corner and the dead Wraith on the floor.

Ronon panicked. What if the Wraith was not alone?! What if there were others?

Ronon spun around and headed out the door into the cold dark rain. He ran towards the ancestor ring as if a hive ship were chasing him. He slipped in the mud as he came close to the dialing device. He struggled to stand and get leverage but his hands were still bound and the metal rod, once his salvation, seemed now to only aid in his confusion. Ronon’s body took the opportunity to collapse and he ultimately couldn’t find the strength to get up.

Ronon lay there gasping as the rain poured down on him. His mind raced and his instincts screamed to run. However, his body wasn’t cooperating. His body had had enough. It had been starved, run ragged, and now brutally raped. Ronon was done running.

I’m done running,  he simply thought in response to his body’s collapse. The thought resonated deep within him as if it were the most profound concept ever conceived.

I am done running¸ Ronon continued to think as the rain washed the blood and gore from his face. I am DONE running.

The litany and the exhaust driven rest gave the runner's body the chance it needed to recover some of its strength. Slowly Ronon sat up. He sat there and let the rain course down his back washing the mud off him. Memories of the night and the last six months crowded in on him.

Death and violation were the themes but there was something new. For the first time a Wraith had died. Ronon had killed a Wraith. Ronon turned to look back toward the hovel. In there in the place of his greatest violation was also his greatest personal victory. He had a choice. He could run from it or he could take advantage of it. Ronon’s choice was simple.

Ronon  limped  back to the hut. The moment he stepped in the smells of death, blood and sex assaulted him. His stomach rebelled and he threw up what little food he’d eaten. Once again he felt like there wasn’t enough room or air. As quickly as he could he searched for his shirt. He found it in the corner by the dead man. He grabbed his shirt, the pack of food and then stepped over to the body of the Wraith. Ronon bent down and searched the body. He found a small knife and used to it to saw at the ropes on his hands. Then Ronon gathered his things and took the Wraith’s gun.

Ronon turned and walked out of the hut and stood in the rain. He stood there letting the rain wash over him hoping it would not only wash away more of the grime but the memories. He soon realized there just wasn’t enough rain. Once again he vomited.  Better not eat until I think I can keep the food down, he thought.

Ronon made his way back to the ring. He’d go back to an unpopulated planet he left a few days ago. He’d hole up in a canyon there. He’d rest, eat and lay a trap for the Wraith that would come hunting him.

I am leading a CHASE, Ronon thought. I am not running.

Ronon also knew it would be a long time, if ever, before he would seek shelter in a small dwelling.

***

A rustling brought Ronon’s thoughts back to the present. He jerked and turned toward the sound. Dr. Rodney Mckay plopped down on the log beside him.

“McKay?” Ronon asked. “What are you doing out here?”

“Getting some air,” Mckay answered as he dug through the pack he brought with him. “That hut, shed really, is just too small.”

“Too small?”

“Yeah, with me, Teyla, Sheppard, and Sheppard’s hair. OH! And let’s not forget Sheppard’s big ears,” Rodney said as he brought a black pouch out of his pack. “MRE?”

Rodney held out the pouch to Ronon.

“You forgot about your ego,” Sheppard’s voice floated out of the rainy darkness before he too came into sight and plopped down on the other side of Ronon.

“Hmph,” Rodney snorted and continued to hold out the pouch to Ronon. Ronon finally took it. He was puzzled by the sudden appearance of his team mates.

“Food, Rodney?” Sheppard asked.

“Not to you,” Rodney quipped in return.

“See, Teyla. I told you, if you were hungry just stick close to Mckay.”

"Indeed,” Teyla said as she joined the team in the rain. She took a seat next to Sheppard, “You are right again, Colonel Sheppard.”

“Now I suppose I have to share with everyone? Not just the only other person who appreciates a good meal,” Rodney whined as he dug through his pack for another black pouch. “Fine. But you and Teyla get the Chicken A La King. I’m not wasting the Salisbury Steak on you.”

“That would be agreeable,” Teyla said.

“You’re all heart,” replied Sheppard as he reached across Ronon for the second black pouch.

“You going to open that?” Rodney asked the bewildered Satedan.

“What are you all doing out here?” Ronon finally asked.

“Well, I’m just following the McKay chow wagon,” Sheppard said as he tore into the MRE pouch and began to split the contents with Teyla.

“It has been a long time since I have taken the time to enjoy the rain,” Teyla responded. “And I would miss the company of my team mates had I remained inside the shelter alone.”

“Really, did you get a look inside that place?” Rodney asked as he took back the pouch from Ronon and opened it. “I mean talk about your health code violations! Not to mention I’m sure there are just some sort of alien spiders in there which can kill a man in one bite. And that’s not the epitaph destined for a man of my mental prowess.”

Rodney grabbed an edible mass from the pouch then handed the pouch back to Ronon. Rodney took a bite out of his “food.”

“Besides, it’s roomier out here,” Rodney concluded with his mouth full.

“I heard that!” Sheppard said.

Ronon wiped warms drops away from his cheeks before he smiled and dug into the pouch to find his own “edible mass.” Ronon really did like the rain.

When the rain washes you clean you'll know
You'll know ...
You will know ...

-Dreams by Fleetwood Mac

Comments

[lilithbint.livejournal.com]

Excellent story,
just the right amount of emotion to grip the reader.
Lovely bonding moment between the team at the end too.

Thank you

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

I wasn't sure how this would play out. Once again it turned out a lot longer than I had anticipated.

I'm really glad you liked the bonding scene at the end. That was a surprise addition. I originally hadn't spec'ed it out; but about half way through the story I realized that the scene needed to be there. The rest of the team just wouldn't leave Ronon alone in the rain.

It wasn't until I finished writing it that I realized how much then I loved that ending and how much better it was then my original concept.

Thanks again!

sr

[lit-gal.livejournal.com]

Wow... that was painful, but it really shows a lot about Ronan that he turned that pain into an anger that would fuel him. This story hurt to read, but then you had that verbal sparring and love at the end so that I could trust that Ronan will never be so alone again. *sob*

Just perfect.

thank you so much!

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

I really needed that. This was a painful story and a darkfic. There hasn't been much feedback on it (and none from the SG communities).

But I really musing Ronon's past..and wanted to try doing a much darker piece than what I've written (not that I have huge body of work..but you know what I mean).

I'm glad you liked it. And yeah..I wanted to show at the end...Ronon wouldn't be alone again. And that's before I saw this week's episode or knew anything about it!

sr

[zenijeni.livejournal.com]

I hate stories where people are like "hey, i like being raped after all", so I try to not read rape-fic, but this is the way it should be written. It's dark and horrible and it leaves big scars, but it's something that a strong person can overcome. I feel wrong saying I enjoyed it, but it made me feel real strong about Ronan

thank you for the feedback

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

Yeah this was definitely supposed to be a dark piece. I'm glad both the scars and the strength to overcome shone through.

Thank you again for your comments. They mean a lot.

sr

[meredevachon]

This was a difficult story to read, but well worth it. Framing the past with the present made a big difference. Not having the team there for Ronon would have made it too much to handle, I think.

Well done!

Thank you

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

Love your icon btw. *smile*

I'm glad you liked this story. In a lot of ways it turned out far better then how I originally concieved it..the attack ended up being much more brutal...but the end much more poignant and uplifting.

sr

Thank you

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

Wow...Thanks...I never even thought about a non SGA audience. :) Silly me. I'm glad you weren't lost. :)

I'm really glad I listened to my muse regarding the camaraderie...as said somewhere before..the end was originally spec'ed out differently..but my muse (and the characters in my head) insisted on the ending I wrote. :)

sr

[raissad.livejournal.com]

Your characterizations are spot on! I also avoid rape fics like the narrative plagues they tend to be. I'm glad I finally read one that's about what it should be about. Good job, especially considering you wrote it prior to this last ep.

Thank you

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

This last episode really made me happy about this story. I wrote this to explore Ronon's past, his hatred for the Wraith, and what SGA team means to him. I was really pleased to see that my instincts were right on with it (well...creative license with the Wraith aspect of course).

Anyway..I'm glad you liked the story. Thank you for the feedback. Means a lot.

sr

[salustra.livejournal.com]

Wow. Just...wow. A really gripping and intense story.

thank you

[stillrose.livejournal.com]

..and can I just say..that your icon is SOOOO Jack and Daniel trying to have phone sex! Too funny.

Thank you for the feedback to the story. It means a lot.

sr