Choices

If only Rodney had stayed in his lab instead of coming to the mess hall.

If only he had chosen the salad instead of the fresh salmon recently delivered by the Daedalus.

If he had done those things, then he probably would not have been flopping around on the floor, like said fish, as his throat rapidly swelled and blocked the passage of air into his lungs.

He felt a hand rolling him over and a minute pause.

Which leg?

He soon found out when there was a sharp stabbing pain in his left thigh.

Who had done it though? Who had relieved his death by lemon sauce?

His heart raced as the adrenaline flooded his system and his breathing eased to a laboured wheeze instead of gasping on nothing. He knew which he preferred out of those two options.

It was Sheppard. Rodney was not surprised. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes again.

"Hey, hey! Stay awake!"

No thanks, he thought. Sleep is so much better than listening to the rattle and rasp of my chest and barely open windpipe.

Sheppard was insistent though and patted Rodney's face. "Keller's on her way."

Rodney's hammering heart sped up.

A hand grabbed his own and strength radiated through him from the contact like a new type of drug to either guide or ignore. He allowed the reassuring touch to lead him down the more difficult path of remaining conscious and continuing to breathe while he waited.

He opened his eyes just in time to see the beautiful doctor peering at him in concern.

"You're so pretty," he said, but his stupid constricted voice only produced a thoroughly unappealing choked gurgle.

He knew it was probably not the best time for professing his undeniable attraction to Jennifer. But it was either then or wait and see if he ever woke up again. He could not take that risk.

She laid her hand on his forehead briefly and he closed his eyes again. They lifted him up and bore him away, pumping him full of a vast cocktail of drugs until he passed out.