Chapter 7

"Ronon? I need…. something… to write on," Alessa says, her voice no more than a whisper.

"You need to remain still and rest. The others will be coming soon." It has to be nearing a couple hours since they took refuge in the cave. Surely Sheppard and the rest of the team have returned and are searching for them. The Wraith would have given up by now…wouldn't they?

"It's…important," she spits out the last word, wincing instantly. Tears slip over her temples, but she doesn't seem to notice. "The translation," she sighs. "I left my book at the ruins."

"If it is still there, we will retrieve it in due time."

"No," she shakes her head. "I didn't…get to finish… my entry."

"You will have time. Later. Rest now."

"D…don't give…me that shit, Dex!" For someone with a voice as quiet as the wind, Alessa can curse like any Marine in Atlantis…and make it sound just as threatening. "I'm…I'm not going…to get another…chance."

Ronon leans over her. He holds her face in both hands and stares into her eyes. "You will not give up, Alessa. You will stay with me. Now and forever…do you understand." It's an order, not a question.

She tries to shake her head but can't because he holds it steady. Her eyes open wide in confusion. "No," she gasps.

Ronon knows she doesn't. She can't. Even after spending every day together for the past three weeks, she has no idea what torture he's been going through.

He picked her up at her door in the morning, followed her around within inches of her body so that he could instantly reach out and grab her shoulders to steer her clear of imminent catastrophe — which happened more often then not, actually. She became nervous and anxiety sparked off her in waves whenever a male member of the team came within a few feet of her — strangely, though, she did not have this reaction with Ronon, not even for a brief second. He followed in her wake or even by her side and never once did he get the feeling she was nervous around him…it made him wonder.

Others gave them a wide berth, not that Alessa noticed; she barely noticed Ronon when she was busy with work. Other than Dr. Weir, he had never seen someone so dedicated. Alessa rarely took time to sleep. Though she did eat…often, which he enjoyed to no end.

They shared meals in silence. Something Ronon relished. Since coming to Atlantis, he found himself bombarded with people talking. Not simply passing along information, but incessantly chattering about non-consequential topics; things of little importance to anyone except the person making the statement. Sheppard did this on occasion; going on about football for some reason Ronon could not grasp. Even the women he took to his bed always wanted to 'talk' afterward, though he found ways to protect himself from that problem… usually by putting their mouths and his to other uses, leaving them too exhausted for conversation.

With Alessa, he could enjoy his meal while studying her as she ate. After the first couple of times, he noticed her shoulders relax and her posture improve. During each repast he would choose something to concentrate his attention on: her lips, her neck, the curve of her breasts under the uniform; it gave him something to think about at night when his dreams would undoubtedly be occupied with her image.

He's made love to her countless times in his mind. Not the mindless fucking he's actually done with other women in the city, not just taking for the sake of his own pleasure… and not only at night while sleeping.

He'd always been good at watching without showing his interest, something he learned to hone as a runner. Sometimes as he studied her, his mind would fill with his lustful thoughts and he'd be there again, sharing delirious heights of pleasure…loving her with every part of his body.

If she knew his thoughts, if she felt his eyes on her; she would not have been able to hide that knowledge from him. He felt secure in his watching. It was part of his job, after all.

He found her hands fascinating: small palms with long fingers tapered to short, clipped nails, always clean and supple. When off-world at a ruin, those delicate hands would caress the stones in such a way that left him panting with want. She'd run the fingers of her left hand over the inscriptions as she wrote into her journal with the right. When she typed on her laptop, it was a flurry of movement and clicks that had his attention rapt until he forced himself to look away. When she used the pen on the data pad, she would thoughtlessly spin and twist it around her fingers with such dexterity it astonished him; she inevitably brought the stylus to her mouth and tapped it against her full bottom lip. It was during those times that Ronon's restraint was pushed to the limit.

No one noticed the draw she had on him…mostly because no one noticed her. Ronon still could not wrap his mind around their blindness.

There's the elegant sway of her neck when she stretched it after several hours in one position. He longed to rub his thumbs over the muscles and ease any tension that built up during the day. And though she was not tall, her legs were long and shapely; he caught sight of them early one morning when she had been running late and opened the door to him while still dressed for bed in shorts and a T-shirt. His heart leapt as if he'd just run a marathon, wishing those legs were at that moment clenched around his waist in the heat of passion.

And there was her mind. Ronon did not understand how she could do so many things at one time, but he always saw her mind working…through her eyes. Even when she was having a conversation, she wouldn't be distracted but she would be busy with something: a decryption or translation, or something else he couldn't comprehend. He watched and listened, every day growing more attached to her.

When others would laugh or talk around them, she would look up but that loneliness he witnessed before had disappeared. In fact if something was amusing, she would smile at Ronon and they would share a silent communication about it: a raised brow or wink from him would often send her into quiet giggles.

Sometimes Sheppard would join them for meals, though he didn't seem as comfortable with the silence at the table. And he would not initiate conversation with Alessa. Ronon determined it had to do with what Sheppard believed her 'issues' to be. Sheppard believes she has been harmed by a man or men in the past. It is why the Colonel is uncomfortable around her. It is possible that is what many on Atlantis believe. But Ronon knows differently. He knows the truth.

He's seen it in her eyes. He sees it now in the glowing green light of the cave.

Caressing her cheeks with his thumbs, Ronon closes the distance between them and kisses her. He reigns in his passion. He wants to show her who he is when they are together. How he can be. He's careful and gentle, but all too soon, he feels her tremble in his grasp and a sob escapes her throat. Ronon breaks away. "Did I hurt you?"

Tears slip from her eyes; her lips quiver. "Wh…why did you do that?" Her eyes are full of sadness that he doesn't understand.

"I love you, Alessa."

She gasps and is about to respond when there's a flash of white light that engulfs him. When the flash dissipates, he's blinded by the glare of more light. He has to close his eyes from the overwhelming brightness.

"Dear Lord!" Dr. Beckett calls from behind Ronon. He feels a familiar hand on his shoulder. "Ronon, lad…let me see to Dr. D'Angelos."

Ronon blinks as his eyes adjust to the lights of the Daedalus med-bay. He's pulled away from Alessa by two others: Sheppard and McKay, one at each arm. "Alessa…?"

They're already getting her onto a gurney. Even after mere seconds on the floor, there's a small puddle of blood from her shoulder wound. He fears too much was left in the cave. Her head rolls toward him and she meets his gaze for a moment. "Ronon…?" Her eyes close and they're taking her away.

"Alessa…" he whispers with longing. He may lose his stomach. She's unbelievably pale in the infirmary lights, starkly contrasted by the dark red covering her belly. He cut away the rest of her shirt and jacket earlier, now, leaving her exposed to all eyes. His first instinct is to cover her, but McKay and Sheppard somehow keep a strong grip on him.

"Relax, big guy," Sheppard says as the doctor disappears with Alessa. "You're okay. You're safe."

Ronon glares at Sheppard. "She needs me."

Teyla is suddenly in front of him, her voice and eyes reassuring. "Let Dr. Beckett care for her."

"Yeah," Sheppard adds. "It looks like she needs surgery, Ronon. I'm sure she'll be fine."

Ronon relaxes. He knows Sheppard's right. Beckett is her only chance. And he's good. He'll take care of her. He has to. When they realize they don't have to restrain him anymore, McKay and Sheppard release their grips. Teyla rests a comforting hand on his arm.

"So…" Sheppard starts. "What the hell happened down there?"

Ronon hangs his head wearily. "I failed her."

O-o-O-o-O

Ronon watched her flit around her lab from one laptop to another, one journal to another, her wide eyes drinking in knowledge, her fingers flicking over the typing keys with a delicate, sure touch, her supple lips slowly parting. She licked them and Ronon's heart flipped. Another move, this time to an Atlantian terminal. She gazed up at the large screen as incomprehensible data scrolled before her; she smiled and caught the tip of her pink tongue between her teeth.

Heat radiated straight to his groin. He suppressed a groan.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" She gasped. She was talking to herself, he could tell. She did that a lot when working. Even after spending so much time together over the past week, Alessa had this mode, this fascinating mindset where nothing existed but the work. It had been the same with Ronon when he was hunting Wraith.

"I fuckin' got it! I fuckin' got it!" She sighed, the smile growing. She started grabbing journals and stacking them in her arms then changed her mind and hit a key on her laptop. She glanced back at the Atlantian screen then typed some more information into her laptop before folding it in half and pulling the wires from the back end. She headed for the door – and Ronon – before returning to her journals and choosing one in particular. She almost rammed into him on the way out the door, but he caught her by the shoulders. "Ronon…? Oh…Sorry. I just…um…"

He smiled and she blushed. "I understand," he chuckled.

Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head in the most seductive way. "Surprisingly…I think you do." She smiled again, this time for him even though she dropped her gaze from his a moment later. "Have I said thank you today?"

He nodded. "Today and every day." Ronon gently smoothed his hands down her arms. She shivered and he pulled away.

"Um…I need to get to Dr. Weir's office. It's about the ZPM."

Ronon palmed the door open. "Then let's go." He smiled again and she ineptly hid her blush from him as usual.

He followed not even a step behind her, one stride for two and a half of hers. She clutched the laptop to her chest, the journal open for review and more notations as she shuffled down the corridor. They turned the first corner and Ronon wrapped a loose arm around Alessa's small waist, gently pulling her back close to his front and stopping her in her tracks before disaster could strike.

Not less than ten marines dressed for a gym work-out – seemingly already finished given the visible sweat – were converging at the end of the corridor in front of the transporter, simply chatting. She looked up at the men and Ronon felt the now familiar nervous energy tremble through her body, sending a ripple of heat through his own.

Alessa slipped from Ronon's grasp and pressed forward. "I don't have time for this crap," she said more to herself than to him. Ronon gripped her shoulders and she stopped again. "Ronon."

"Let them pass first."

"They don't look like their in any hurry to go anywhere," she sighed. Her spine straightened. For the first time since they met, Alessa turned on Ronon, her face set, eyes of steel – not unlike Dr. Weir. "Look. I know it's your job to protect me from myself… more like protect them from me. And you're really great at it. I'm sure hundreds of tragedies have been averted without my knowledge in the past week. But this can't wait. So…I'm going."

For a brief moment, Ronon wanted to let her loose on the men down the hall, just to see what might occur. Instead, he gripped her shoulders a little tighter. "Alessa—"

She motioned to the stationary men. "If you're so worried, then do something to get them out of my way. Quickly." Ronon cocked an eyebrow at her and she froze. "Whaaaat…?"

With no effort, Ronon picked her up and hauled her over his shoulder. She squeaked out a curse before clutching the laptop and journal tight to her chest. "Ronon…what are you doing!"

"My job," he grunted, striding forward. The marines all caught sight of what was happening and laughter erupted from the group. "Move now," he told the men and they instantly parted, the laughing stopped abruptly.

"Put me down!" She hollered, but Ronon could feel and hear the giggle shaking her voice and body.

After they were safely inside the transporter, Ronon did as she instructed. Her face was red and her glasses had slipped down her nose, but otherwise she was steady on her feet. "What the hell was that?" She pressed the map and instantly they were on the Command level and out into an empty corridor.

He looked down at her, catching a glint of defiance-filled humor in her eyes. "Avoiding possible physical jeopardy to you."

She smoothed down her jacket then ran a hand through her hair. "I wasn't in any danger from them. You know it's the other way around."

He rested a hand on her shoulder and she stopped to look at him. "As long as I am with you. You will remain unharmed."

"And embarrassing me isn't harmful?"

He shrugged. "Not physically."

"You could have just told them I was coming. They would have scattered. Believe me."

"Perhaps." He grinned at her. "My way was more fun."

Starting down the corridor again, she shook her head, but he could see the smile she hid behind her hair. "There is something seriously wrong with you, Ronon Dex."

Ronon just grinned, following her the rest of the way.