Chapter 3

Ronon coughs as he waves a hand through the dust and debris floating above his face. He can't even see his hand, but searching out fresh air to breathe is a natural instinct and one he doesn't fight. "Alessa?"

"Still here," she says with a giggle that rolls into a stifled cough.

Ronon searches out her hand, grasping it in the dark and giving it a gentle squeeze. She squeezes in return, not a solid grip, but he didn't expect one.

She's soft and pliable, not unfit, but not muscular. "I like my burgers and French fries," she told him recently while they had lunch. For someone so small in stature, she can eat a lot. "It's the Italian blood," she said. "Mama always warned me I had the D'Angelos family empty-pit of a stomach. Which, undoubtedly, leads to the big ass."

Ronon couldn't decide if he was supposed to agree with her or not. He's seen her bottom on several occasions. Enjoyed the way it sways as she walks. Wondered how it would feel cupped in his hands… He never found it disproportionate to her size, but she seemed so certain of the notion he was unsure if he should dissuade her. After the meal, he felt the need to inform her of his own observations. She grinned at him and placed her warm hand to his cheek. "You are so sweet. But a lousy liar." And then she was gone.

Her skin felt as wonderful as her hair had previously and he nearly went into shock. One delicate touch of her hand to his cheek and she could rule him; he knew it then as he knows it now. He wants to touch her all over, simply run his hands over her body, tenderly caressing her flesh with his lips and his tongue and bring her to the ultimate pleasure as he luxuriates in the smoothness of her skin.

As much as his need drives him, as much as he wants it, Ronon knows he will not get the chance to do such things. Not to Alessa. He can give her everything he has in him, but he can never take from her.

"She has issues," Sheppard said recently. When Ronon tried to get more information, Sheppard swore he didn't have any to give. "It only makes sense, Ronon. The way she is around men…the nervousness, the jumpy behavior." He nodded, mostly to himself. "Chick's got issues." And apparently that was enough of an answer to satisfy Sheppard. He had no interest in learning more about Alessa. Quite a few people around Atlantis behave the same way.

But not Ronon. Since that warm palm on his cheek, he has only been blessed with a quick touch of her hand on his arm or a trace of his fingers across her neck or over her clothed shoulder as he guided her away from danger while she walked with her head buried in data. He's taken those stolen moments and created his night dreams from them to relieve his ever growing attraction...and the tension it leaves behind.

She doesn't know.

She wouldn't believe him if he told her.

4 WEEKS AGO
Ronon caught her walking down the corridor studying a data pad; she turned toward a door, but bumped into the wall next to it instead. Ronon suppressed a laugh. She grumbled something in a different language, it sounded like what Dr. Z speaks sometimes. Then her head slowly turned to catch him staring. "You're welcome," she said quietly.

Ronon crossed his arms and studied her for a moment. The large black rimmed glasses hid her face well, but underneath he could see lovely dark brown eyes framed by thick brows and her lips were the same color as Dr. Weir's tops, though it seemed a natural color. "For what?" he asked after a long pause.

She sighed heavily as she stepped to the side and the door opened before her. "The amusement factor. Everyone gets to enjoy PCJ."

"PCJ?"

"Plain Calamity Jane."

"Who is…Jane?"

She stared at him in what could only be described as wonder for the briefest moment then offered a tight smile as she disappeared into the lab. Ronon dropped his arms, clasping his hands behind his back and continued on his way, wondering about the dark-haired doctor…why did she have such a sad smile? And…who is Jane?

He saw her later the same day, eating alone in the mess hall, her eyes buried in her data pad once again. Occasionally she glanced up when she heard someone laugh but if anyone caught her gaze on them, she'd drop it to the data again. Figuring she chose this solitude, Ronon went about his business and grabbed his food then sat alone as he liked as well.

Sheppard came in some time later, grabbed his tray of food, stopped by many of the tables to speak with the small groups, mostly the ones with women at them. Sheppard has a weakness for women, that much is clear. However, he avoided her table, as if he didn't see her at all.

But she saw him. Her eyes followed him as he moved from group to group, laughing with the others, making small talk as he calls it. And even from the distance of two tables, Ronon saw the same sadness he'd seen earlier. The longing to be included…and the pain of being invisible.

She caught Ronon staring and quickly gathered her things and left…her food only half eaten.