2. After learning about Ronon's drella-sculpting skills (thanks to his no-good brother Droon), Melina tried to teach him the art of paper-folding. He would have been quite good at it if he hadn't deliberately done most of the folds wrong just so he could watch Melina do it right.
There's a reason he declines Miko's offer of origami lessons, and it's not the one she thinks it is.
3. The first time Ronon looked out a window on Atlantis and realized the city was surrounded by nothing but miles of open ocean, he almost panicked. No forest, no caves, no mountain passes to which he could flee should the wraith come—as they were bound to. But then he remembered exactly how successful all his escape attempts had been before Sheppard and his people showed up, and he felt the heady rush of DANGER subside. Flight was not his only option any more, nor even, it was beginning to appear, the best.
4. On Sateda, especially toward the end of things, a scientist of Rodney's brilliance (not that Rodney would ever hear Ronon use that word) would have been kept hidden away in a bunker, more highly guarded than even the council or the head of the military, flanked all the time by an ever-changing set of guards—for all the good it did when the sky came crashing down. On Atlantis, all the scientists are sent off-world at some point with only a handful of marines (if even that) to keep them safe. Ronon watches Rodney watch Sheppard's back, Teyla's and at times even Ronon's, out in the field where anything might happen. The possibility of him being locked away like some piece of delicate and vital equipment is not to be thought on, and so Ronon hits Rodney until Rodney learns to block, to hit back, and does not tell him of the fate of the chief scientists on Sateda when all their guards were dead.
5. Sometimes, late at night, when he hasn't fought enough, run enough during the day, he lies face-upward on the bare floor of his room, and stares up into the blackness. If he stares long enough, hard enough, until it seems he can almost see the ceiling that's there when the lights are on, he can almost see other things as well. Dim shadows of people he once knew, people he couldn't keep alive. They aren't ghosts, not in the way the marines mean when they talk about ghosts: there's nothing substantial or insubstantial floating around his ceiling, but that doesn't mean he's alone in the dark.
On the mornings after such nights he always runs Sheppard to the point of collapse, but Sheppard never complains or asks questions, and that's why Ronon stays with him.