Duty called - or rather Lieutenant Marston's broken ankle called - right in the middle of breakfast. Which was the only reason Jen escaped having to explain to Ronon exactly why she was acting so strangely. Not that she didn't want to tell him… but… well… okay so she didn't want to tell him.

It just seemed so silly in the daylight. Honestly. Being freaked out by a recurring dream? And yes, okay, the prospect of jumping in with a hey, I dreamt you were dead speech really didn't sound like a good idea. At. All. Not a great way to catapult yourself into a new relationship. Feeling a constant desire to be near him was bad enough… she didn't want to add mental stalking to the list.

So she'd happily accepted the interruption and rushed off to the infirmary. By the time she'd finished the operation to remove pieces of shrapnel and set the bone, she'd effectively killed off the morning. After her rounds and another hacking attempt at paperwork, the day had passed quickly by.

It wasn't until her shift ended that Jen realized she'd managed to avoid him too easily. Ronon was, if anything, persistent. It was only after what she thought was a rather subtle line of questioning as Major Whalen came by to check on his injured Lieutenant did Jen discover that John and Ronon had been off-world all day visiting MX7-121.

The words off-world startled her so much that Major Whalen burst into a profuse apology. For what, she didn't quite know, but he apologized anyway.

It was only after the Major made hastily mumbled excuses and escaped did Jen remember MX7-121 was in the middle of a very harsh winter season.

Snow banks and blizzards. Not a leafy green summer.

And Teyla hadn't gone with them. Nor had Rodney.

This wasn't it.

The relief that washed over her forced her to sit with the stunning realization that she couldn't keep doing this. He was a soldier. A warrior. He was going to be going off world. If she reacted like a freaked-out ninny every time he stepped through the gate she was going to turn herself into a raving lunatic. Or drive him away.

She sighed.

There was only one solution.

She needed help.


It was well after midnight when John and Ronon crossed the gate into the warmth of the city.

The day had been a waste of time, their informant having little information that was of use. There was no word on Michael or his hybrid army, and no new sickness from the Hoffan virus either. The only piece of intel that may prove useful was a possible confirmation on another one of Michael's abandoned labs. The planet in question had been confirmed abandoned a few weeks back by SGA-7, but they hadn't been looking for a lab. It was worth checking out, and Sheppard planed to leave in 36 hours.

Leaving John to relay the information to Woolsey, Ronon excused himself and disappeared into the darkened city.

For most of the day Ronon ignored the slight worry about Jennifer's odd reaction this morning. But now that the trip was over, his return to the city brought back the concern. Analyzing the past couple of days, he followed the pattern back. She'd been overly jumpy, and specifically evasive for at least three days – yet he could see no reason for her sudden elusiveness. She frequently buried herself in her work, forgetting to eat, forgetting to sleep. But as far as he knew, there hadn't been any medical emergencies that would pull her in with such force.

With a brief look into the infirmary he caught Marie's attention and she shook her head quickly, smiling. Jennifer wasn't there. Turning on his heel, he continued through the corridors, his purposeful stride matching the direction of his thoughts.

He briefly wondered if it was a person, not a thing that could be causing her issue. He dismissed it as plausible, but not worrisome. If anyone was bothering her, he'd see it stopped.

Without hesitation.

No, the problem lay in getting her to admit she had a problem. The woman was worse than he was when it came to holding things in. But if she wouldn't talk… He smiled slowly to himself. Well - he had other useful ways of finding out information.

A flash of pink caught his eye as he rounded the corner, his attention focusing with surprise as Jennifer hurried from her quarters. At this hour of the night he immediately figured on a medical emergency.

Ronon waited for her to notice him, but instead of turning towards him – in the direction of the infirmary – she walked away.

Strange.

He could hear her soft voice carrying through the dimly lit hallway, her hands swinging as she spoke. He followed behind her, curious as to where she was going at such a late hour. It took him a moment to realize she couldn't be talking on the radio – the conversation was too one sided. She'd barely stopped to breathe between sentences as she carried on, her arms flailing wildly as she punctuated her thoughts.

She was talking to herself.

It was the second flash of understanding that staggered his steps.

Pink tank top. Cotton pants. The blue ones with the small cats. Hair rumpled. Bare feet.

She was still dressed for bed.

Why was she still dressed for bed?

And where exactly was she going wearing her pajamas and nothing else?

His quarters were definitely not in the direction she was headed.

Not that he expected her to be going to his quarters… but well… okay yes, damn it, he did. It was a step they had not taken yet… but not for lack of want. The damn universe was conspiring against them. Thwarting them with sudden off-world trips and emergency calls. His and hers.

So if not his room… then who's room was she hurrying too? She was definitely moving deeper into the crew quarters. A medical emergency would have her dressed properly. And going to the infirmary. Or issuing orders over the radio.

Not sneaking around in the middle of the night half dressed and talking to herself.

The heat of jealousy burned across his chest and he crushed it down. He trusted her. There was a reasonable explanation.

It was only when she reached the lower level of the crew area that his mind relaxed.

For a brief moment, at least.

Ronon watched her stop outside Teyla's door, her hurried destination revealed. He briefly panicked that something might be wrong with Torren… then convinced himself that if there was, she wouldn't be standing in the middle of the hallway, her body stiff with uncertainty.

Her hand hovered in the air above the door control. Then she dropped her arm and took two steps back, turning slightly. She stopped, returned to the door, raised her hand, lowered it, then turned away, taking several steps before stopping again, and staring over her shoulder at the door.

Then she looked down at her watch.

With a harshly whispered curse at the ceiling, she clenched her fists, and circled back around. He slid into the shadows, listening to her mumbling something about stupidity and middle of the night as she passed. He stayed behind her as she made her way back through the corridors to her quarters, where she disappeared inside.

He paused in the hallway, his hand raised over the door control. When he dropped his arm and stepped back, realization of his mimicking indecisiveness couldn't stop the grin.

She was becoming a bad influence.

He sobered as he made his way back towards his own room.

In the morning he was going to sit his pretty little doctor down and have a conversation.