The chime on Jen's door bleeped and she frowned, looking around at her room. Sitting up, the paperback she'd fell asleep reading clumped to the floor and she bent to pick it up. Another bleep and she peered at the illuminated hands on her watch.

3:17 AM

Another bleep. She stood and stumbled over the blanket that was wrapped over her legs, scrambling to pull her brain into a functioning mode. Throwing the blanket on the floor beside the chair, she moved quickly to the door. Her radio hadn't gone off so it shouldn't be a medical emergency… but…

Her hand swiped over the access control and the doors slid open.

"Ronon?" She exhaled with surprise, staring up at the man looming in the hallway. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?" She questioned quickly, giving him a quick once over.

"Did you really resign?" He asked, not moving from his position in the hallway.

Jen exhaled slowly, running her hands through her sleep tousled hair. "Come in." She stepped aside, letting the doors close behind him. Hope blossomed inside her to know that he was here, that he'd actually, finally, come to talk to her.

Ronon turned towards her. "Did you resign?"

She nodded, watching his reservation turn to surprise, and then sadness, before closing off completely.

Ronon exhaled slowly. He'd stood on that rooftop for hours, her words whirling around inside his head, his heart, his soul. Rain drenched and wind buffeted, he stood against the storm, his mind in turmoil.

He'd been so caught up in his own misery, his own failings, his own self-pity, he never once stopped to think of anyone else.

He'd never stopped to think about how she was doing.

And she was right.

He had given her the same speech. The same platitudes. They all had.

But he truly believed her to be cured. To be fine. To be healthy and happy and untouched by the evil that was the Wraith virus that had so infected her mind and body.

But if he'd believed that about her… then he had to believe that about himself.

Or it was all for naught.

And he'd come to the realization, as the storm abated around him, tapering off into a drizzle that faded with the distant thunder, that she'd played him.

And played him well.

And he'd laughed.

It had taken him a better part of six hours to get up the courage to come see her.

To tell her he believed.

And she was telling him she was leaving.

She really had given Woolsey her resignation.

He blinked. "When are you leaving?"

She shook her head, a tiny smile tugging the corner of her mouth. "I'm not."

He frowned.

Jen turned and walked over to the chair she'd been curled up in only moments before. Closing the paperback she'd left on the seat, she tossed the book onto the small table to her right. Lowering herself onto the edge of the chair, she twisted her hands in her lap. "Woolsey tore it up the minute I handed it over." She finally said, chancing a glance up at him.

"When was that?"

"The day I was released from the infirmary." She shrugged.

"Weeks ago." Ronon exhaled, then shook his head. "You let me believe you were leaving."

"Sorry."

"You did that on purpose?"

"Yes."

"And the rest?"

Jen chewed the inside of her cheek, not sure if she could really put to words the horrific nightmares she still had. Dreams of being left alone to die in the dark. Nightmares of killing people – of killing her friends. The waking thoughts that she might still be carrying the virus. The blood tests she performed on herself several times a week just to be sure.

"You lied to me." He raised an eyebrow.

Jen shook her head. "No. I just… didn't tell you everything."

"Do you truly believe you deserve to die?" He asked softly, moving to stand beside her.

Jen thought about lying, about saying no, but decided that truth was the only way she could really help him see what she was trying to do.

"Sometimes." She finally answered, turning towards him. "Late at night. Especially, um… when I'm alone. I don't like… I don't like being alone." She looked at her pristinely made bed, taunting her from across the room. The covers and blankets were meticulously tucked around the frame. Unused. Unwanted. "It's… hard to sleep. I just can't quite bring myself to use it. I usually end up falling asleep right here."

He nodded his understanding, eyeing the pillow and blankets on the floor next to her chair.

"You?" She asked hesitantly, her face still turned away.

"Same." He replied, watching her intently, his eyes studying her profile while she stared at her unused bed.

A shiver shot down her spine and she trembled. She shook her head quickly and stood up, but he didn't move to give her room. She remained blocked between him and the chair, her body inches from his. He wasn't sure who moved first, but he suddenly found himself wrapped around her small frame, her body locked tightly against his chest while he pulled her close, her arms tightly gripping his waist.

"Some pair we make." She muttered into his shirtfront.

"So what are we going to do about it?" He asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

She shook her head, her hair tickling his chin. "I have no idea."

"Well, I'm not going to shoot you." He grinned when she burst out laughing.

"Good." She smiled, lifting her head to look up at him. "Because I'd rather not be shot."

"You took a big chance up there." He stared at her, his smile disappearing.

"No, I didn't." She shook her head quickly. Leaning back, she stared up into his face, her gaze direct and penetrating. "I am not afraid of you, Ronon Dex."

"Are you sure?" He raised an eyebrow, his arms tightening around her waist. "Because you're heart is beating awfully fast."

She flushed with a strangled squeak and quickly released him.

He grinned and stepped back, her flustered mutterings about men making him laugh.

She shook her head and glared at him. "You're impossible."

He shrugged. "Only for you."

"Come on." She laughed, reaching for his hand, threading her smaller fingers through his larger ones to pull him towards the door. "There's only one thing that can cure all this."

Ronon walked beside her into the hallway, tightening his grip on her hand when she moved to pull away. She looked down at their fingers, then back up to his face, a hesitant smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"What?" He asked, not really caring where they were going so long as she took him with her.

"Chocolate cake." She answered with mock seriousness.

"Chocolate cake?"

"Cure's everything."

"I thought that was chicken soup?"

"That too." She laughed. "Only it's no where near as yummy."

"Right." He nodded.

As they walked towards the cafeteria, Ronon let his memories of the past few weeks slip quietly away. They would return – the nightmares and flashes. He understood this. And he also understood hers would return too.

But for this brief span of time, he would let her help him forget. And he would help her forget in return.

Some pair we make.

It was a worthy trade.