Finding Home

Ronon has to decide where his home truly lies - with a blue-eyed doctor or a village claiming to be his people.

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After gliding her hand swiftly over the entry panel to her quarters, Jennifer stood motionless in the open doorway for a moment. Her rooms felt more like an empty, lonely crypt than anything else of late. It seemed like life had plopped her down right in the middle of her own little safe haven of hell and was patiently waiting for the outcome.

Glancing around the disheveled room, Jennifer saw that everything was just how she had left it – in utter chaos.

Reports were strewn everywhere. Papers from a number of different sources littered the floor. Some covered her nightstand and unmade bed. While others, she thought, might possibly be hiding in her bathroom. She wasn't quite sure on that though.

Fortunately, the main portion of the files rested next to her laptop that sat upon a small grey metal desk at the opposite side of her room.

Sighing heavily, Jennifer immediately headed to that all too familiar cluttered work space where she'd spent many an hour going over the contents of each file.

Picking up one of three medical reports from her desk, Jennifer's mind absently registered the sound of the double doors to her living area closing behind her. Closing her in; locking her away once again – alone – in her rooms.

Laying the unopened file back down, she pushed the well memorized pile of data around a bit; trying to make some semblance of the cluttered mess.

How wonderful, she thought, if she could do the same with Ronon and her feelings for him. To rearrange what she felt for him so that she didn't hurt so bad.

Closing her eyes, she sighed once more.

For her not to hurt, she'd have to do more than just arrange her feelings into some sense of normalcy. She'd have to erase Ronon and everything about him from her heart and soul, and there was no possible way to do that; not without losing a part of herself.

From the whole of Atlantis to the small living space she occupied now, Jennifer was hopelessly cocooned within her memories of Ronon.

She gingerly touched her lips, remembering his kiss and the tender touch of his good-bye. Jennifer also remembered her brazen move; kissing him passionately, pleading with him to return to her safely. She could feel her face flush and her heart race even now with just the thought of that kiss. She remembered the taste of him on her lips and the warmth of his strong embrace as he met her with equal passion.

A mischievous smile briefly played across her face. She hadn't kissed any man the way that she had kissed Ronon that night.

Ever.

Not even Brian.

Picking up the same file that she'd just laid back down seconds ago, Jennifer blankly stared at it. She had to get her mind off of Ronon and the only way to do that was with work.

Since he'd been gone, she had kept herself busy in the infirmary to the point of exhaustion at times. However, Jen had been keeping more to herself for the past week or so – tucked away in the privacy of her rooms.

One of the reasons for doing so was because of Lt. Kyle Masterson and his unwanted advances towards her.

It wasn't anything to complain to Dr. Weir or Col. Sheppard about, but it seemed that he hadn't gotten the message that she wanted to be left alone. That she wasn't looking for someone to be with romantically. Jennifer had told him just as much the moment she'd figured out that Kyle was attracted to her. She had quickly put a stop to it, or so she thought. She had told him that they could only be friends and that was it. Nothing more.

Kyle had smiled and nodded, saying that he understood.

Apparently he hadn't understood because after ushering her in from out of the cold earlier tonight and waiting for the doors of the transporter to open, he had tried to kiss her. Not a friendly peck on the check either, but a full-on, up close and personal lip lock.

She was so stunned that it took her a few seconds to register what he was about before she firmly pushed him away. Right at that moment the transporter opened and she immediately entered, closing the doors quickly behind her.

She'd left him on the lower level to either wait for the transport's return or use the stairs. She hadn't cared which.

Also another reason for working from her quarters was that Dr. Beckett had put her on medical restriction. She was under strict orders not to over exert herself. Evidently reading medical files and compiling reports was about all that he'd let her do.

Jennifer was lucky that the good doctor let her do that much and hadn't put her on total bed rest. They had argued vehemently over that particular restriction for a good thirty minutes before she won that battle.

The reason for the lite duty was of the scare that she had given everyone in the department head meeting a few days ago.

It all started simple enough with just a little discomfort right in the middle of her chest. A twinge really. Jennifer had thought nothing of it; self-diagnosing it as stress and worry over Ronon's absence. She hadn't told anyone about it. She figured it would go away.

However, the discomfort started slowly to travel up the pain scale prior to the incident. It seemed like what started out as a slight twinge had gotten stronger within a short amount of time.

Jennifer actually thought that she was having a heart attack that morning - the pain was so great in her chest it brought her to her knees as she entered the conference room.

John himself had carried her to the infirmary with everyone else following or clearing the way for him. Everyone had been concerned and they still were.

Opening the file she held, Jennifer glanced over one of the test results that Carson had ordered. She knew the end result from memory – on all of these damn pieces of paper.

Normal.

Nothing was showing up for the cause of her chest pain. Nothing abnormal stood out to any of the medical professionals stationed on Atlantis who read her files. Every test and procedure that she and Dr. Beckett thought of ordering had come back with the same results – normal. She was as healthy as a horse, but the pain still lingered. Not as strong since that day, but still noticeable.

Then yesterday morning, oddly enough, the pain simply went away. It was a puzzle to be sure with none of it making any sense.

Out of anger and utter frustration, Jennifer swiftly relieved the desk of its work load - laptop and all. She took her hands and swept everything off of the piece of furniture. She sent everything flying across the room.

Still facing the desk, Jennifer firmly planted the palms of her hands upon its cold surface and hung her head in defeat. She was tired. She didn't want to do this anymore. She was done. She just wanted to...

Jennifer's thoughts suddenly skidded to an abrupt halt. She lifted her head, slid her hands from the desk and slowly stood up straight.

With her back to the closed doors of her quarters, she felt a familiar flutter in her chest. Not the pain as before, but something different. Something else. Something that she had felt before. The feeling of knowing that he was in the room with her.

Watching her.

Spinning around, Jennifer stood and stared at the man that seemed to guard the entrance and exit of her makeshift crypt.

Her dark angel.

“Ronon.

His name escaped her lips on nothing more than a whispered breath; yet he had heard it, and that one softly spoken word nearly reduced his self-control to mere ash as he stood mesmerized by her beauty.

Situated in front of the tightly sealed doors of her quarters, it took every ounce of willpower Ronon possessed to remain motionless.

He wanted to rush across the room and envelope her in his strong embrace – to wrap himself around her. He wanted to kiss her until they both were breathless and weak from it. He wanted to bury his face in the silkiness of her hair. He wanted to let his large calloused hands roam over every inch of her soft body while his mouth nibbled the crook of her neck.

He battled so hard to restrain himself – from taking what he wanted – that beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. The desire to touch her was growing stronger. Ronon didn’t know how he was keeping his hands by his side – they itched to caress her – to feel her surrender to him.

With that thought, Ronon nearly took a detrimental step towards her.

Realizing that he was quickly losing the war, he let out a low rumbling growl and shook his head trying to clear his thoughts of her. He struggled to control his pounding heart and keep his face void of any and all emotion.

The Satedan warrior appeared calm on the outside, but on the inside? The woman was driving him to the brink of insanity.

Even though he only stood a mere ten feet or so from her, he could smell the trespassing male on Jennifer. By all the gods, she still wore the man’s jacket from earlier for Chrissake. That, in and of itself, helped Ronon get a better grip on his wanton desire of her.

The strong scent of an adversary had the dark beast within snarling and wanting vengeance. Had it wanting to claim what belonged to him.

Clenching tight his jaw, Ronon remained a statue – lifeless – as he strengthened his resolve by summoning to the surface the image of Jennifer in the arms of this other rival.

Masterson.

By bringing the bastard's face to the forefront of his mind, Ronon was able to override his want for Jennifer and replace it with rage for the lieutenant who thought to come between him and his other.

Ronon had seen for himself how far the son-of-a-bitch would go.

The Satedan had quietly followed the cozy couple when they had made their way to the transporter. He had kept to the shadows as the intruding male leaned in to kiss Jennifer.

At that point in time, Ronon nearly lost it. His hand had been gripping the butt of his gun so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his jaw still hurt from clenching his teeth so hard together.

He had watched as Jennifer stepped back into the transporter and left the man standing alone.

Seconds had ticked by with excruciating slowness as Ronon watched Masterson wait for the return of the transporter.

If looks could have killed, the young lieutenant would have been dead a million times over.

It took a great deal of effort to finally force himself to leave the man alone. Ronon wanted to kill the prick so badly.

Since Masterson was waiting for the transporter, Ronon had to take the stairs to get to Jennifer's quarters.

Disgusted and angry with himself for having left Masterson unharmed, Ronon took the stairs two and three at a time. He reached the fourth floor just as Jennifer was exiting the transporter.

Ronon stood just out of sight as she made her way to her room. When the doors had opened and she walked through, Ronon had barely enough time to enter right behind her before the doors closed shut again.

Jennifer hadn't even noticed that he was in the room with her because she was so focused on all the paperwork on her desk.

So now, without taking his eyes off of her, Ronon extended his left arm and forcefully placed the large palm of his hand upon the access panel of the doors - locking them.

No one was entering and no one was leaving.

It seemed Jennifer's dark angel was about to set a few things straight.

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