A/N: So, this popped into my head, an excuse to write a future fic with Ronon and Keller. Enjoy!
A/N2: And the 'how many' thing is a call back to a great fic by Kiera Marcos...well, all of her great fics. I believe it's Bleeding Love, that's my favorite. You should read them all though.
Jennifer bit her bottom lip as she peered inside the seedy pub. She was a doctor, dammit! Not a counterintelligence agent. That was Teyla's gig. Unfortunately the resident Athosian was unreachable at the moment, taking part in some sacred ceremony for Torren's seventh birthday, and Jennifer was the only other female on base with a security clearance high enough to participate in this mission.
Stupid alien coming-of-age rituals, Jen thought bitterly, then immediately admonished herself. It wasn't as if she felt Teyla didn't deserve to have a spiritual life, in fact she envied the woman's ability to be centered and calm all the time, a trait she said she owed to regular mediation. It was just that, at the moment, Teyla's spiritual life was putting Jennifer in a position where she would have to risk her actual life.
There was a slight pressure at her back and she swallowed a sigh of exasperation. Perhaps she was overreacting. It wasn't as if anyone would be able to touch her with a flagpole as long as her trigger-happy, protective to the point of being just-this-side-of-psychotic, knife-wielding husband around.
Summoning the last of her courage and steeling herself with determination, she spun on her heel. Ronon stood as close as he could without touching her and she had to tip her head back to see his face.
"Babe," she began patiently, "you've got to back off. No one's going to come near me if you're standing at my elbow looking ready to snap necks." Not that she minded the strong protective streak Ronon possessed and made no apology for, but if she had do this mission, and she did, then she was going to do it right. And that meant no glowering Satedans need apply.
Ronon raised an eyebrow, "I don't see the problem."
John cleared his throat, stepping up beside them as he clipped his P90 into place.
"I do. If the Doc can't talk to anyone she can't get the information we need and our small problem with the Gulna just turned into a major issue," he tried to sound patient, but it was clearly an effort. Splitting their attention between the Wraith and their new enemy the Gulna was not allowing the Lt. Col. much sleep at night, "I've got guys stationed at every window, a sniper on that roof, I will be right here and you and Rodney will be inside at the back table ready to bust the place up at a moment's notice. Nothing's gonna happen to her."
Ronon all but ignored John's reassurance, instead searching his wife's eyes for the courage he knew she possessed. Jennifer did her best to look sure of herself, and fought not to fidget under Ronon's intense gaze. Her blood pumped hard, and she could feel the beginnings of an Adrenalin rush and it reminded her of her first year as a resident when she spent twenty hours a week in the ER.
"How many?" Ronon growled.
She repressed a roll of her eyes and a smile at his unabashed concern for her well-being, "Fifteen."
A slight smile starting in his eyes and moving toward his mouth, "you can't get to eight of those without making yourself need stitches afterward."
Jennifer smiled fully, "Luckily, I know a good doctor." Then she stood up on her tippy-toes, inviting his lips to hers as well as pressing her open palm against the spot above where she could feel his heart beating strong and steady. Ronon returned the Satedan gesture of love and the kiss.
"Alright, you remember the safety word, right Doc?" John asked when she stepped back.
Jennifer nodded, her hand falling to the reassurance of her glock strapped to her thigh, just below where her leather miniskirt ended. "Elizabeth." She took one a deep breath.
John dipped his chin once and then took up a position on the opposite side of the door, well hidden in the shadows despite the bright light of twin moons.
With one last look at Ronon, Jennifer turned and entered the tavern, murmurs of 'good luck' tickling her ears as she walked past the doorway. She ignored appraising gazes of greasy, downright dirty looking men who eyed her as she walked past and went straight to the bar.
Settling on a stool, she waited as casually as she could for Ronon and Rodney to appear in the corner of her vision, before motioning for a drink. When she did the bartender brought her a glass the size of a shot almost immediately, pouring a green liquid that steamed slightly at room temperature. Knowing her part, she lifted the drink to her lips and downed it in a single gulp, closing her eyes to keep them from bulging straight out of her head. The drink set fire to her tongue and throat and instantly the room temperature went up thirty degrees.
Shedding her long black coat, a present from Ronon, she stripped down to a no-sleeve leather tank top Teyla had let her borrow. It drew attention to her pale arms and flat belly, and she tugged on it self-consciously in spite of her best efforts not to do so.
"I like a woman that can drink." A voice said beside her, it was low and gravelly but not in the sexy way that Ronon's was. She turned to see a small man sitting beside her. He was bald with intricate tattoos that seemed to be crawling up the skin of his neck and face from below his shirt. He wasn't young, probably a good ten years older than her, and his dark eyes were not at all concerned with staying on her face.
"I'm not interested," she replied coolly, amazed that her voice didn't shake with nearly the force that her knees were at the moment.
The man sipped his green steaming drink carefully, flicking his eyes at her face and then returning them to her body, "sure you are. I got something you want."
Jen let her eyes remain focused on her empty glass, reminding herself that many shady deals happened on this planet, and if this was too work she had to look comfortable here. Like she belonged.
"Unlikely," she replied in the same bored tone as before, turning a bit so that her hair fell loose and hid her face from view. She couldn't exactly control her blushing now could she?
The man's eyebrows rose and a hint of amusement with them, "You doubt me, woman?"
This time Jennifer did look at him, pursing her lips in an attempt to look exasperated, instead of frightened out of her mind, "Unless you know something about the whereabouts of some friends of mine, yes. I do."
The man slid fully onto the stool beside her and smiled a grin full of crooked yellow teeth, "well, who are these friends of yours? In my work as an information trader, I just may have heard of them."
Jen allowed a tiny roll of her eyes at this 'hint' of his occupation, she waited a moment before responding, signaling the bartender for another of those green-fire drinks.
"Aarin of the Gulna." She said finally.
Tattoo man was not as good as Jen at hiding his bulging eyes, "Gulna? Rough types, they are. What would a massa like you want to do with them?"
Jennifer shrugged nonchalantly, "I told you, they're friends."
The man scoffed and sipped his drink just as the bartender brought Jen another, "A dangerous occupation, being friends with the Gulna."
Jen smiled tightly and managed to make it come off as mysterious, "No more dangerous than being their enemies."
The man caught her suggestion and narrowed his dark, beady eyes, "Is that a threat, woman?"
"Do I need it to be?" She responded, emboldened by the sight of Ronon's blaster in the corner of her eye when he took it out and set it threateningly on the table, "You said you were an information trader. Have you got the information, or not?"
Tattoo man gave her a long, hard look, this one directed at her face, "What kind of information?"
Jen fingered her glass without drinking it's contents, "I need to know Aarin's whereabouts."
This time the man's gaze held suspicion, "if you're such good friends, I should think you would know better than I."
Jen's heart froze, sure she'd screwed up royally. Without thinking, she raised her glass to her lips and drank down the second glass of alien liquor, "We've…lost touch," she choked out, suddenly realizing the green-fire drink was more for sipping than gulping, "I need a favor from him so I'm trying to locate him again. But if you can't help me, fine. Kindly vacate the stool so that someone who can, may sit."
Tattoo man smiled slowly and turned toward her again, "I didn't say I couldn't help, I'm just not exactly in the habit of giving information away. You can pay?"
Jen merely raised an eyebrow, "That depends on your price."
His smile turned slightly devilish and his eyes traveled languidly over her body again, "if you play your cards right, we may be able to work out a deal that will involve no payment of money." With that, he lay his dirty finger-nailed hand on her arm.
Even in the corner of her eye Jennifer could see Ronon tense in the corner. She looked pointedly at the man's hand and then back up at his face.
"If you keep playing your cards as you are, you may end up paying with your life."
The man laughed softly and began to stroke her bare forearm where his hand lay, clearly not intimidated, "why? You will do something to stop me?"
This time Jennifer's smile was genuinely amused, "That remains to be seen, but I can assure you my husband will."
Tattoo man's hand froze and he narrowed his eyes at her, "I don't believe you," then after a beat, "where is he?"
Jennifer looked over his shoulder, "See that short, pasty, white guy in the corner who's sweating a little? The black jacket?"
The man glanced back at Rodney, "What? Him? He couldn't even harm a child."
Chuckling humorlessly, Jen shook her head, "No no, not him. The 6'4, 250lbs of badass sitting across from him. The guy with the dreds, looking at you like you're a dead man. That's my husband." She smiled slightly as the man's eyes widened when he saw Ronon, "He's got a blaster that will blow a hole in you 6 inches wide from thirty feet away. And he's pretty good with a knife too."
The man turned back to look at her, looking a little less sure of himself but had yet to remove his hand. A glint of light caught his eye and he looked down. Jennifer had moved her free hand into the space between his legs and held a knife just over the rapidly deflating bulge in his pants.
"Did I mention he's a really good teacher?" she asked innocently, raising her eyebrows. Then her good-natured smile fell away and her features hardened, "tell me what I want to know, or with one flick of my wrist you lose Mr.Winky."
A couple of beads of sweat sprouted on Tattoo man's brow and he was quiet for a moment as he considered her threat. Jennifer, seeing that Ronon was growing impatient and probably none to happy with the placement of her hand, pressed her blade encouragingly against his pants.
"Okay, okay," the man hissed, his hands flying off her skin, "Try Hiin Itand. He has a tailor shop on Cretia. He is rumored to have business dealings with the Gulna."
Jennifer held her blade against him for one more heart stopping second and then smiled sweetly, "Thank you."
Standing, she pulled a few gold coins from her thigh-high boot and dropped them into the bartender's waiting hand. Ronon was waiting for her at the door and draped a protective arm over her bare shoulders.
Once they were outside, Sheppard and the team gathered around.
"Nice acting doc, I thought the guy was going to wet himself when you pulled that knife on him."
Jen shrugged and smiled shyly as Ronon helped her put her coat back on, goosebumps were now running across her skin.
"Well I figured either I was going to do it or Ronon was, and there was a much better chance he'd end up with something amputated if Ronon did it. And I didn't bring my suture kit."
Ronon raised his eyebrows and she smiled, leaning into his warm, strong side.
"Don't worry babe, I went for one of the other seven," then, lowering her voice, "when we get back, I might let you try and figure out which one."
Ronon's low growl was followed by Jen's light laughter and the team trudged dutifully toward the gate by the bright light of twin full moons.
END