"Please tell me this is temporary." Teyla strove to keep her voice calm.

"Yes, luv." Carson Beckett's gentle hands cupped her face. They smelled of antiseptic. "I'm as sure as I can be. That nasty venom will leave your system. You will get your eyesight back." He sighed and removed his hands. "I just don't know how long it will take."

Teyla inhaled slowly and lifted her chin. "So long as I know it will happen, I can wait."

"You're a brave lass."

"None braver." John Sheppard spoke from behind Teyla. She managed not to flinch at the forced brightness in his tone. She knew her situation made him uncomfortable. Anyone from his team being disabled made him so – the only pain he seemed to be able to deal with effectively was his own. John gripped her elbow. "Now, if you don't mind, Carson, we'll relieve you of your patient."

"Yes. She'll be more comfortable in her own quarters, I'm sure." Carson patted Teyla's shoulder. "Don't let them boss you around, luv."

"Like that will happen," John said with his usual acerbic tone. "More likely she'll be bossing us."

"You do sometimes need it," Teyla replied quietly. Carson laughed as John led her away.

She knew when they passed into the corridor. The air temperature dropped a few degrees; their footsteps took on a slightly hollow sound, almost drowning out the quieter ones behind them. Ronon. She could sense his solidness there. His quietness was oddly comforting. Sometimes people from Earth seemed so afraid of silence.

They turned a corner. Rapid footsteps slapped the floor as someone approached. Teyla tried not to tense. She hated being stripped of her sight, hated this helplessness.

"Oh, there you are." Rodney McKay's words gushed out. "I hoped to see you – Ah, that is, I'd wanted to be there when Carson released – And here you are. Looking great. I mean, not looking, but … Oh, you know what I mean."

"It is all right, Rodney," Teyla said to stop the flow of babble. She hoped he didn't realize how phony her smile was, but then he wasn't the most perceptive of men when it came to females.

"Right." Rodney cleared his throat. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat, but I … have work to do. Data analysis from the mission that returned this morning. I'll, um, see you at dinner, okay? Not that you'll see me. Well I hope you'll see me, but you'll hear me, right? And –"

"Goodbye, Rodney," John said. As Rodney had rattled on, John's grip on Teyla's elbow had tightened and was now pinching. Teyla twisted free just as Rodney muttered, "Goodbye." As he walked away, she heard him whispering, "Stupid, McKay. How can such a brilliant man be so stupid?"

Teyla rubbed her elbow and smiled – a real smile this time. Behind her, Ronon exhaled loudly, as if his patience had reached its limit.

John cleared his throat. "You know, Teyla …"

"You really should get briefed on that mission."

"How'd you know I was going to say that?"

"If there is data of interest to Rodney, of course you should know what it is."

"Well, yes, but …" Teyla could imagine the frown wrinkling John's brow. He said, "I shouldn't leave you. It's my fault –"

"It is not your fault. It is not anyone's fault. That lizard could have struck any one of us. Blame it if you need to blame something."

"I should have seen it."

Teyla scowled in the direction of his voice. "I am in no mood to deal with your overgrown sense of responsibility, John Shepherd. You are head of security, not a nursemaid. Go do your job. Leave me."

"But –"

"I will look after Teyla." It was the first time Ronon had spoken all day. There was steel in the quietness of his voice and it was wonderfully melodious. Rodney wanted to avoid her; John wanted to coddle her; Ronon simply accepted her. Teyla nodded and took a step backwards. Her shoulder met the palm of his large hand.

She heard John shift, could almost sense his tension. After a moment he said, "Sure. Fine. Ronon will look after you. I … have work to do." He took two steps and paused. "You'll … be in the cafeteria for dinner?"

"I think not. I would prefer to eat in my quarters tonight." Just the thought of being gawked at, even if she could not see the stares, was enough to destroy her appetite.

"Do you mind if Rodney and I join you?"

Teyla offered a tentative smile. "Of course you may. I would not have it any other way."

"Great. We'll be there." His footfalls quickly faded down the corridor.

Ronon took her hand and laid it on his extended forearm, letting her decide how firmly or loosely she wanted to hold on. He started down the corridor. "I hope McKay's too busy to join us. He talks enough for six people."

Teyla swallowed a laugh. "There is always that silver adhesive strip they call duck tape."

"Good idea. Remind me to carry some on all our missions."

This time the laugh escaped. "That is terrible, Ronon. He might be annoying, but his intelligence has saved us many times."

Ronon's only reply was a quiet huff. He stopped, Teyla doing so a step later. A cross breeze told her they were at an intersection. It carried Ronon's scent to her: musk and leather. She turned her face toward him, wanting to inhale the familiarity of it. To draw calm from it. Her brave front was cracking like a farmer's field in a drought, hairline cracks that would widen if she didn't do something to stop the underlying panic that was threatening to break through.

"Where to?" Ronon's steady tone gave her an infusion of strength.

He waited silent and unmoving while she considered the question. Her quarters were the obvious choice but she didn't want to hide just now, to lick her wounds and stew about her blindness. To let worry invade the quiet and join forces with the niggling panic in the back of her mind that kept whispering, What if your sight never returns? She needed … to feel in control of something. Anything. This darkness was unnerving and she did not like to be unnerved. "Let us go to the sparring room."

A pause and she felt his arm twitch in what was likely a shrug. He led her through the corridors. Several times voices approached, cut off abruptly, picked up again once they were past Teyla. Each time her chin lifted in defiance and she stared straight ahead. At least, she thought she did. Her eyes were open, she knew that much. Open and useless.

In front of them, a door slid open. Ronon led her another eight steps and halted. Teyla could tell immediately they were in a closed room. The air stirred differently, was closer, warmer.

Ronon lowered his arm. Teyla tilted her head, listening for movement. "We are alone?"

"Yes. I didn't think you wanted an audience."

Teyla nodded, removed her boots and tossed them aside, curled her toes against the lightly padded floor, inhaled the faint smell of old sweat from previous occupants. It was soothing.

"What now?"

"Tell me, Ronon. What good is a warrior who cannot see?"

A pause. "Not much."

"Thank you, my friend. Your honesty is … refreshing."

"You don't think you'll get your sight back?"

"I think Doctor Beckett truly believes I will. But I do not know. It has been almost a day and everything is still cloaked in blackness."

"He is a good doctor."

"Yes. But knowing that is not keeping the fear at bay, Ronon. I need to know that I can still be useful." When he said nothing she added, "I want to see how well I fight using only my remaining senses."

"Should I turn off the lights to even the odds a little?"

"There are no even odds when fighting against you." She spun and kicked. Her foot struck flesh and elicited a satisfying, if quiet, grunt.

"I will have to hold back."

"Do what you must, but do not … cocoon me." She jabbed her fist in the direction of his voice. Hit only air. Listened carefully, heard his foot sliding, struck again. Missed again. "If you were my enemy you would attack." She smelled his scent. Chopped. Missed. "Attack!"

"No."

"Ronon!"

"I … cannot. Teyla this is—"

She wheeled and launched herself, feet first, at his voice. Her left foot struck his chest. He grabbed her calf, twisted. She flung her arm. Caught his ankle as she fell. Yanked.

Her back slammed into the floor, driving out her breath. She heard Ronon hit the floor an instant after her, might have smiled if she wasn't trying to draw oxygen into her lungs. Not being able to see the floor, not being able to prepare for impact …

Air rushed in and she gasped. She lay still, fighting her frustration, staring at a ceiling she couldn't see. A tear trickled down one cheek. This cannot be my fate. I would rather die.

The only sound in the room, apart from her breathing, was the nearly inaudible hiss of the air filtration system. Teyla frowned. "Ronon?" No answer. Had she knocked him senseless? She rolled onto her side and froze. She could sense him, right beside her. Could feel the heat radiating from his body. She tensed.

"This is not funny, Ronon. What are you doing?"

"Looking at you."

He was closer even than she had thought, less than an arm's length away, his deep voice a little above her. She lifted her face toward the sound. "Do you not think that is rude since I cannot do the same?"

"You can … if you want."

"In case you had not noticed, I am blind." Teyla almost choked on that last word, that awful admission of a weakness too terrible to contemplate. I am worthless like this.

Ronon's voice rumbled in the silence. "Even a blind man can see … if he wants."

How do the blind see? Teyla brushed her fingers along her jaw, then splayed her fingers toward Ronon. He whispered, "If you want."

She extended her arm slowly, as if trying to collect eggs without startling the bird. Her fingertips touched his elbow. She ran them down his forearm, over the tickle of hair, then back up to his elbow. The angle of his arm suggested he was stretched out on his side, likely propped on his other elbow. This hand would be pressed flat against the floor, ever ready to propel his body upward if needed. She had seen him reclining like this at many campfires. Always alert, his body a weapon ready to be wielded. Her fingers inched upward, paused at the lower curve of his biceps. His muscles were lax. Why should there be tension? She was certainly no threat. Not like this.

Teyla swallowed a lump of bitterness. Another tear swelled on the inside corner of her eye, seeking release. She blinked rapidly, forcing it to retreat.

Ronon didn't move. Under her fingers, his muscles were warm granite, even relaxed as they were. She closed her eyes and let her fingers explore the curve of his upper arm, feeling each bump and hollow, picturing the brown skin in her mind. She thought of the way so many of the expedition's women eyed these very muscles, wanting to do what she was doing now. A tingle skittered up her fingers and arm, into her neck where it became a shiver. She paused.

"Most blind people I've seen," Ronon remarked quietly, "are more interested in faces than arms."

Teyla pursed her lips to hold back a very Sheppard-like response. Sarcasm was lost on Ronon – he understood it, but thought its cutting nature unbecoming to a warrior and he couldn't understand why John ever resorted to it. He had told her once that such verbal attacks were the weapons of ruling classes, weak men and petty women. John, of course, was none of those, and she … She had not taken offence, knowing he saw her more as a comrade-in-arms than a woman.

Seemingly of their own volition, her fingers crept up his arm to toy with his sleeveless tunic. She realized what she was doing and patted the cloth smooth. A whiff of his muskiness reached her and she inhaled deeply, savouring the smell. Her stomach tightened in a surprising but not unpleasant way.

What kind of a game was Ronon playing? Or was he simply seeking to keep her mind off her plight? If so, he was succeeding, for touching him this way … was very distracting.

Her hand slid along his shoulder, dipped to execute a single circle on his shoulder blade, then continued to the base of his neck. She hesitated. Did he want her to touch his face? Did he care if her fingers were drawn to other areas? She cupped her hand along the curve of his corded neck until her fingertips reached the hair at the nape of his neck. His locks – dreads, John called them – lay heavy against her hand, which immediately grew warmer. The coiling in her stomach returned and she knew that she was risking a very male reaction from Ronon. Or was she seeking it?

Teyla inhaled sharply. Her left arm, acting as a pillow, tensed under her cheek. Her whole body tensed as she held her breath, trying to decide exactly what she was doing.

Ronon's neck sank closer to her. She turned her face toward him again and felt his breath on her cheek. "What are you doing, Teyla?"

"I … have not decided."

"Let me help." His breath caressed her jaw. "Tell me your thoughts."

Teyla swallowed. "Right this moment?" She licked her lips. "I was thinking, very foolishly, if your kiss would be gentle or hard."

"Why foolishly?" he whispered. "Don't you think a hard man can give a gentle kiss?"

"I … do not know. I have never known a man as hard as you. Nor as loyal. Nor—"

His lips grazed hers, once, twice, like the fluttering wings of a moth. Her heart tripped, began an irregular drumbeat that echoed low in her stomach. She swallowed.

Ronon's nose nudged her jaw and rubbed along her ear. He breathed, "There are many places that require gentle kisses. Here." He kissed her earlobe, then sucked on it.

Teyla gasped quietly. Her hand returned to grip his muscled arm. "This is not a good idea."

Ronon ignored her and ran his tongue down her neck to her collarbone. His lips fluttered over it, along her neck to the hollow at its base. She arched her neck as desire began to warm her skin. "You … are simply trying … to distract me."

His lips lifted from her skin. His gaze, though she couldn't see it, was like a heat lamp scorching her. His musk enveloped her as he touched his nose to hers. "Is it working?"

Teyla moved to shove him away. Her hand struck his chest. She started to push, paused when his heartbeat hammered against her palm. Not calm. Not measured. Beating as fast as hers. Perhaps he saw her as a woman after all.

She wanted to see his bottomless eyes. Would desire darken them or light a fire in their depths? She whispered, "I hate this."

"Hate … this?" His lips teased hers again, so briefly she might have imagined it.

"I hate … not being able to see you."

"You can feel me. Smell me." He paused. "Taste me."

His lips covered hers then. Moved over them in a slow exploration. Gently kneaded, coaxed, sought a response. Teyla gave it. Began to match his movements. Gripped his neck again and pulled his head lower. His lips pressed down, parted to let his tongue dart across her bottom lip.

She moaned. Opened her mouth. Their tongues met, stroked, explored. Danced. She drew his tongue into her mouth and sucked. He lowered himself further, until his chest touched hers. His groan quivered through her breasts.

Ronon suddenly drew back. Breath ragged, he said, "You were right."

"About what?" Teyla's voice trembled.

He eased her hand from behind his neck and held it against his chest where his heart lunged against his ribcage like an animal desperate for freedom. "This is a mistake. Unless we mean to follow this path to the end of the trail."

"Do you want to?"

He groaned again. "Does a wraith desire to feed on humans?"

"It lacks self-control in such things."

"So will I, if we continue."

Teyla wanted to say that she felt the same, but such words might tip them into something neither was ready for. Their relationship would change. Likely he would start to see her as someone to stand in front of and protect rather than someone to stand beside in a fight.

She laid her hand along his jaw, desperately wishing she could see his eyes now, to judge the effect of her words – words she didn't want to speak. He couldn't guess how much she wanted to give in to this desire. She raised her face and her lips unerringly brushed across his. "You, my friend, are certainly a master of distraction."

He tensed then. She felt his jaw clench, felt him draw his body away, just a little.

"Do not misunderstand me, Ronon." Teyla traced her fingers up, along his hairline, across his brow, circling his face to come to rest where they'd started. "You stir me. We are matched in so many ways. But this … is not the right time."

"Will there be one?"

His deep voice was a caress in itself. Teyla inhaled slowly. "Perhaps. When I can see you. When we can come together as equals and remain equals." She frowned, then cleared her brow. "Or when I know that this darkness will be mine forever and I have accepted it as my fate. I will need someone strong then, someone who will not shy from me or try to protect me like some helpless babe."

"That won't happen, Teyla. You will see again. And you will be as dangerous as ever in a sparring match."

Teyla tilted her head. "Are you saying I wasn't dangerous today?"

"You were. Just not in the way I expected."

One corner of her mouth lifted. "I will remember that."

"I hope so."

Was he teasing or serious? Teyla could not tell. She sat up abruptly. Her shoulder brushed Ronon's chin and she felt him pull away. He asked, "What's wrong?"

"We should return to my quarters. John and Rodney will be there soon."

Ronon sighed. "If we must."

"Yes, we must. And you will be polite to Rodney, even if he stumbles like … a blind man … when he talks to me."

"If?" Ronon snorted. "We still have time to find some of that tape." He took Teyla's hand and flowed to his feet, pulling her with him. "Will you do something for me?"

"If I can."

"Don't use your … eyes … to see either of them."

Teyla smiled. She raised her hands and explored Ronon's face, then urged his head down for a lingering kiss. When she withdrew, she said, "You mean like that?"

"Yes." He bit out the word. "I'd hate to forget that they are friends."

Teyla could imagine the glower on Ronon's face this instant, even though she knew he'd never forget such a thing. His loyalty was as sure as his skill with a blade. She rested her hand on his forearm. "But you will not forget. Just as I will not forget that I was wrong."

"About what?"

"A man as hard as you can indeed give a gentle kiss."

Ronon snorted quietly. "As gentle or as hard as you like. Just remember, the next time you tempt me, I will call your bluff."

Teyla smiled.