Still wearing John's shirt, Jennifer made her way to her quarters with John at her side. She leaned into him as he put an arm protectively around her. When they arrived at her quarters she grabbed comfort clothes and headed for the bathroom.
She looked at him with intent, but no words.
"I'll be here when you get out," he assured her.
The minute the door to the bathroom closed he was on his communicator. He had someone bring a sandwich, a bottle of water, a hot chocolate and of course, a brownie, along with a new ear piece to Jennifer's quarters while she was in the shower. It was easy to find people to help. The story was making its way around the city now, and Jennifer was a very well-liked woman.
She looked like a different person when she came out: more relaxed, no more of Nelson's blood on her, in her own clothes. John was relieved at the change.
They sat in her quarters against opposite arms of her couch. She looked so grateful for the food. He made small talk as best he could, but nothing he expected her to remember. He could almost see the adrenaline leave her as her eyes got heavy and the medicine kicked in.
Her yawn in her hot chocolate was the last signal he needed.
"I'm going to let you get some rest." He pulled out the new ear piece and put it on her night stand. "I got you a new one. If you need anything, anything at all. A visit, a joke, more hot chocolate – literally anything, you pick this up and call me. Otherwise you don't put it in. You rest and take care of yourself."
She nodded and looked at him again, with something he couldn't read. Need? Vulnerability? Expectation?
Her voice was little more than a whisper when she made her request.
"Stay?"
His answer was instant.
"Of course," but his voice was so thick with emotion, anger over what she had been through and concern for her, that it cracked when he spoke and sounded nothing like the protector he wanted to be. So he cleared his throat and tried again.
"Of course."
He may have stayed more for himself than her. The events of the day and the muscle relaxer for her shoulder caught up with her and she slept like a stone. He, on the other hand, did not. He laid out on the couch still filled with anger. He drifted to sleep a few times and it was his own bad dreams that woke him with a start. If he had been ten minutes later. If she hadn't been working out or training with Ronon. If Nelson hadn't been drunk and a little off his game.
Terrible possibilities passed through his mind.
It was looking at her face that brought him back. Peaceful. Safe.
But something like that stays with a person, and he had no idea what she needed.
So in the morning he had someone bring a tray of breakfast, and he stayed until she woke up. He gave her a hug and a kiss on the head, and told her to eat and relax. He told her he would check on her.
And he gave her some space.
And it killed him.
He looked for her at lunch, but Lorne said he had dropped by with a tray a little while earlier, and she probably wouldn't make it to the mess. Lorne said she seemed ok.
John was a notoriously decisive guy, but on this one he was stumped. Didn't want to hover, didn't want to crowd, wanted to be attentive, didn't want to pressure.
He saw her at dinner. She made her way to the mess, but never made it to a table. Never even got a tray. He saw her come in, and watched her as she grabbed a few things from the line. She looked for him before she left, and when she found him she just waved with half a smile and headed back to her room.
In the morning, he decided to step up his game. He went to the medbay for her shift, and ran into Marie.
"Good Morning, Colonel," she said kindly. "How can we help you today?"
'Uhhh," he said, scanning the room. "Looking for Dr. Keller. Is she here?"
"No," Marie informed him. "She came by earlier. Dr. Pedersen did some imaging on her shoulder."
"Is she ok?"
"Yeah, doing really well, I think. Just … just needs a little time. She took herself off the schedule for today and tomorrow. Then she thinks things will get back to normal."
John nodded not knowing what else to say.
He had a few actual CO things to do during the morning, and when he got to lunch he decided he would eat and bring her a tray and check on her. Sitting with Teyla, Ronon and Lorne he was distracted.
"I saw Jen this morning," Lorne mentioned, instantly getting John's attention. "She came in for a cup of coffee and I walked her to the medbay."
"How did she seem?"
"You should ask her," Ronon interjected.
"She seemed good. A little subdued for our usually peppy CMO, but all in all good."
"I sat with her for a time last night," Teyla offered. "She still seemed tired, but on the mend."
John was sort of sensing an intervention was happening and he had walked right into it blindly.
"I assume you've seen her, too?" he asked Ronon.
'Yeah," Ronon said. "We went out on the trail this morning. Nothing strenuous, but she needed to get out."
"Am I the only person who hasn't seen her."
"Looks like it," Ronon said. "Why is that?"
"I'm going to stop by after lunch." Then he looked at his tray and away from his friends. "Not sure what to say."
"Reschedule your date," Ronon suggested.
"Ehh. I don't know about that. Not sure this is a great time."
"Did what Nelson did change the way you see her," Teyla asked.
"Of course not. How could you even ask that? Its just – its complicated. He was one of my men. And how do you just ask someone out right after an experience like that - Hey, I know one of my men tried to rape you last night, but why don't we have dinner? Yeah, no."
"Do not make that choice for her. She isn't a child. Ask. Let her decide," Teyla admonished.
"Have you seen that woman yell at me in the medbay? She will tell you what's on her mind," Ronon encouraged him.
They all chuckled at that. Even John smiled. Some of her yelling at Ronon was legendary.
"Heads up, though. She is about twenty feet out and heading this way," Lorne added.
Jen arrived at the table trying very hard to seem normal. She settled, and after quick welcomes and hugs from Teyla, Ronon and Lorne, they took off to give Jen and John some space to talk.
"So how are you?" he asked, giving her his undivided attention.
"Great," she answered too quickly.
"So how are you, really?"
She slowed down and took a deep breath.
"OK. More ok than I thought I would be. I went to see Heitmeyer this morning because I am feeling more ok than I think I should be. Ironic. I know. I'm an overthinker."
"What did Heitmeyer say?"
"That I seemed to remembering and processing the event in a healthy way and at my own pace, and that I should check in again next week and see if there is anything else I want to talk about."
As she started to eat it was impossible to not notice her looking around.
"I feel like everyone knows what happened and that they are all staring at me. I mentioned that to Heitmeyer, too. She said people probably are looking at me a little funny, and that I shouldn't worry about it."
"It will all get back to normal soon enough, Jen."
And then a moment of silence followed by the two of the starting to speak at the same time.
"So I was wondering," she started at the same time that he began an apology.
"Jen, I am so sorry."
"For what, rescuing me. I don't think I ever said a proper thank you, by the way."
"No thanks required," he said.
She started again.
"Since I sorta ruined our first date getting kidnapped, I…"
"Oh, Jen. Don't say that. He was one of mine. If there was any ruining it was on me."
She shook her head not wanting to go down that path.
"Well I was hoping I could make it up to you by…"
"Nothing to make up. You have nothing to make up for."
"John, you are making it really hard to ask you out," she blurted out.
"Oh," he said, surprised. He straightened up a little at the table. He folded his hands in front of him. He smiled. "Then please, continue."
"I was wondering, since our date didn't go as planned the other night," she said with exaggeration taking the apologies and the blaming out of the request, "if you might let me make it up to you. Dinner. Tomorrow. And then maybe something special."
John's eyebrows went high at the something special.
"Keep your mind out of the gutter, Colonel. Not that special."
John laughed as looked at her: the split lip healing, the angry marks on her wrists fading, her eyes bright.
And sure. She looked sure. And if she was, he was, too.
"What? I didn't say anything. You're the one with the mind in the gutter. Movies are special. Walks are special." Then his tone got serious. "I'll just be happy to have the time with you."
"I'll meet you at your place at 1900, but this time, I have a plan for dinner."