TITLE: Leather - Pt. 1
AUTHOR: renisanz
SUMMARY: Ronon finds something unexpected while on an recreational trading mission. One-shot.
CATEGORY: general
WORDS: 1,244
DISCLAIMER: I don't own 'em, but they're fun to play. Seraih is all mine, though.
NOTES: Written for Challenge #20: Leather at satedanfire. No spoilers. Events of the story occur sometime before Sateda.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ronon was being followed.

He had sensed it for a while.

Teyla had asked him to accompany her on a recreational trading mission. 'Shopping' as the 'Lanteans called it. As much as he liked spending time with Teyla, he wasn't keen on the idea of going from booth to booth, haggling over prices. He truly respected and admired Teyla's skills as leader and negotiator, but sometimes. . .she just used too many words. The way he saw it, the vendor could take or leave her offer and then she should move on.

That was what he was thinking when he had wondered away from her, mumbling that he was going to find something to eat. The smell of roast bisteh-on-a-stick was calling to him. He peered down the pathway and spotted his prize a few booths down. He would still be able to keep an eye on Teyla from the distance, so he walked off. He asked her if she wanted anything, but she waved him away, distracted. She really had her eye on that fabric but was set not to pay too much for it.

With a parting shrug he made his way through the market.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ronon was growing weary of this game. He was especially peeved that he had to rush and finish his bisteh so he would better be able to face his pursuer. Purposefully, he wove his way through the marketplace until the crowds thinned out. There was virtually no one on the street in this part of the town, now. No one to hear the commotion of the struggle, not that he anticipated much of one. Deftly, he cut around a corner into a narrow alley and pressed his back to the wall, waiting. The long shadows cast by the evening sun offered the perfect cover for his large form.

Finally, a slim figure appeared before the threshold of the alley. He saw them stop, and look around, as if uncertain of where he had gone. They had their back facing the alley, completely oblivious to his presence. He smirked. Whoever he was, he wasn't very good at stealth. Too bad for 'em.

In one smooth motion, Ronon stepped from the concealment of the shadows and grabbed the stalker. They seemed to sense his presence at the last moment, for they turned slightly as he reached for the back of their hooded shroud. There was a slight gasp and a rustle of papers as Ronon pressed the slight figure against the wall. He was taken aback as wide blue eyes framed in thick brown lashes stared back at him.

A girl.


"Why are you following me?" He growled.

She just blinked up at him. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She was scared.


"Are you Genii?"

"N-no," she stammered, finally found her voice. She seemed confused by the question.

"Who are you?" Ronon pressed.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, her hand pulling futilely at his wrists. "I just. . .my designs. . . ."

Ronon followed her gaze down to the cobbled street of the alleyway. Strewn at their feet were pieces of paper. Drawings.

He released his right hand's hold on her and moved it to cover the handle of his gun, before removing his other hand to free her completely from his hold. She immediately bent down to retrieve her papers, and he watched her with a mix of wariness and curiosity.

Ronon was pretty sure that she wasn't a threat, but there was the slim possibility that she was bait of some kind—a means to distract him. For what, he had not idea. The bad guys would usually just ambush him, or his team. Why go through all this artifice?

"Are you gonna tell who you are?" He asked once more.

She had finished collecting all her papers, save for one, Ronon noticed the tip of his shoe touched. Keeping his eye on her, he bend down to pick it up, getting his first good look at one of her 'designs.' Drawn on the page was a male figure dressed in a tailored, button-down vest. Beside the figure was an up-close drawing of an arm with a sleeve featuring an intricate combination of clasps and buckles.

"I am Seraih."

Ronon tore his gaze away from the worn page to gaze down at her. She looked a bit older now. Not a girl, but not quite a woman.

"How old are you?" The question left his lips before he could reconsider.

"I will be nineteen in three lunar cycles."

Ronon nodded, cocking his eyebrow. He spared a glance down at her form. She was slim, but she had just the right amount of curves in the places that mattered. Definitely more woman than girl.

He looked down at the drawing once more. He liked the design. He wasn't one to acquire many material possessions in the way of wardrobe, but his years as a Runner made the decision for him no choice in the matter anyway. However, the few garments he did own tended to get bloodied and shot up on a pretty regular basis. Now that he had settled in Atlantis for the time being, he could focus on replacing a few things.

"Do you make these?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

He watched as a blush tinted the olive skin of her cheeks and freckled nose. Her lashes dipped down to the page in his hand. Her fingers tightened around the bundle of pages she held to her chest. "Yes," she said with more confidence now. "I. . . uhm. . ."

Ronon relaxed the tension in his stance just a little and waited for her to continue.

"That is why I was following you," she sighed. "I saw you at the booth getting bisteh. . . I saw you, and your form fits perfectly. I wanted to study you more, but I did not know how to ask. So I just followed you."

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Ronon stated.

She bit her lip at the admonishment. "Yes, I realize that now. I had not been inspired in so long. Then I saw you, and you were new here. . . I just got lost, I suppose."

Ronon allowed only a shadow of a smile at the compliment. As strange as this conversation was, he found it was nice to be admired for something other than his skills as a Satedan warrior. And this girl was obviously very talented.

"You're weird, you know." He felt he should state it, just to make it clear, in case she didn't know.

"Yes," she agreed. Absently, she pulled back the hood that to reveal wavy, dark brown hair cropped close to her head. "My aunt fears that I will never marry."

Ronon sensed the weightiness of the statement in her tone. This young woman was definitely unique in more ways than one.

He cleared his throat and asked, "You got a booth or something somewhere with some of this stuff?" He turned the page toward her and gestured at the buckle-accented sleeve.

Seraih smiled for the first time, taking the page from him. She seemed to know what was implied by the question. He stood still as she eyes roved over his form, taking it in. "I have something especially in mind for you," she said as her azure eyes met his once more. Her smile faltered, "That is, if you do not mind leather?"

He shrugged then gestured for her to lead the way.


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Her name is pronounced "sə'rī"

Omg, I actually managed to write something non-romantic and non-R/K. What a feat. Not as hard as I thought, even though I did consider how I could work Jen in somehow. I tried to keep this as concise as possible. Hope y'all like it and lemme know what you think (and if it should be continued).