Author's Note: 499 words, minus the note. Enjoy! ~lg

oOo

Somehow, Jennifer made it to the infirmary without needing Evan to carry her. When she asked for his help, he gathered her shoes and helped her to her feet. Then, he walked slowly beside her, not speaking but never far away. Several times, when she swayed, he reached out and gently steadied her.

In the infirmary, Dr. Cole ushered her directly into a hospital bed. Walking from her quarters to the infirmary had exhausted Jennifer, and she vaguely remembered thanking Evan for his help. At this point, her resolution meant nothing compared to relieving the band around her chest and getting a full breath of air. Maybe, once she recovered, she'd care a little more.

For the next little while—she couldn't tell how long—Jennifer had glimpses of doctors, Evan, Carter, Sheppard, Ronon, and McKay. The physicist's quick visit surprised her, as did his concern for her. When she finally woke, she spotted Sheppard just outside her cubicle, chatting with Cole. The two of them laughed, and Jennifer frowned. Just how long had she been in here if Sheppard and Amanda had become friends?

Then, reality hit her. She'd been sick enough to need help getting to the infirmary. Instead of calling Cole or Marie, she'd asked Evan for help. Stifling the groan that would tell everyone she was awake, she closed her eyes and wished to disappear. What chance did she even have if he saw her like that? If they'd been dating, she wouldn't have reacted so badly. She didn't think so, anyway. But now, when she needed her best foot forward, she had done something like that! What had she been thinking?

Later that evening, after all the tests and learning she'd had a fairly bad case of bronchial pneumonia, Evan appeared at her bedside. By this time, Cole had helped her wash, brush, and braid her hair, so Jennifer knew she looked halfway decent. She smiled. "Hey." Talking still hurt, and she still had that awful cough.

Evan ignored the weak whisper and carried a tray with two bowls of soup to her bedside. "I brought dinner."

Jennifer eyed the soup and wondered if this counted as a date since they shared a meal. She glanced around the hospital room and decided it didn't. "Thanks."

"Ah. . . ." He hesitated, clearly unsure of his next step.

She smiled, enjoying the hesitation. "Hand the bowl here, and I'll eat."

He gave the bowl to her, and she sipped the chicken soup. It tasted like heaven to her.

Finally, she leaned back into her pillow. "Sorry about the other day." Then, she scowled. "I mean. . . ." Her voice trailed off when he gently took her hand.

"Don't mention it." Something in his voice stopped her next words, and she stared at him. He still held her hand, his thumb rubbing absently against her wrist almost as a caress. Could it be that she still had a chance?

~TBC