Author's Note: Special thanks to deal4321. Thanks again to everyone who reviewed and said such sweet and wonderful things. I appreciate it so much, and more reviews mean more stories.
Five minutes after Ronon left. Ten. Twenty. The clock ticked by unusually slowly. Generally, Jennifer found that there were never enough hours in the day, and now there were all too many. Her shift ended at nine tonight. It was two-thirty.
Now two thirty-eight.
And then, the worst thing that could have happened to her on a day like this did, starting with the slishy-sloshy feeling in her stomach. Not quite pain, but that discomfort that let you know something wasn't right.
And then, at three-fifteen, there was definitely pain in her tummy, and a headache beginning to settle right behind her eyes. There was a definite weakness in her limbs, and she felt incredibly heavy.
Oh, no. Not now. Not now, today of all perfect days when less than an hour ago she'd kissed the most perfect man in this and the other galaxy. Three seconds later and she was running for the bathroom and losing her lunch.
"Oh, God, not the flu. Please," Jennifer wailed to the toilet seat. She spit, then sniffled. No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.
The poor woman threw up twice more within a half hour, and by that time, there was nothing left in her stomach, and still she vomited. Finally, exhausted, she curled up in the fetal position next to the toilet, resting her head on a roll of toilet paper.
Which is exactly where Ronon found her, five minutes 'til nine. She was asleep, shivering, and feverous.
"Jennifer?" he said softly, crouching down next to her. "Jennifer, wake up." He reached out, gently squeezing her shoulder until her eyes opened and she blinked, looking up at him.
"Ronon?" Jennifer's voice was weak. "I'm sick. You should go. I don't want you to catch it."
"I'll take my chances," Ronon replied. Rolling her to her back, he scooped her up and carried her out of the bathroom, down the hall, and to the living quarters.
Sheppard passed them on the way, looking at Ronon with an eyebrow cocked. "Is she all right?"
"She's got the flu," he answered. "I'm going to take her to her room."
"Give her lots of fluids," Sheppard instructed. "Try to get her body temperature down. I'll go and let Carter know she's sick."
"Thank you," Jennifer's eyes were closed, but she tightened her grip around Ronon's neck and snuggled a little more into his shoulder as he turned on his heel and carried her into her room.
Crossing the room, he carefully lay her down on one side of the bed before moving to the other side to pull the covers down. Then, Ronon untied her shoes and placed them neatly side by side near her night stand, before pulling off her socks and putting them next to her shoes. Helping her sit up, he removed her jacket, then slid her under the covers and pulled them up to her chin.
"I think I might throw up again," Jennifer groaned, rolling onto her stomach and putting her cheek on the cooler pillow.
Quickly, Ronon strode across the room, retrieved the waste basket from the bathroom, and placed it next to her side of the bed. "What should I do?" he asked.
"As much as I want you to stay, believe me, you need to go. You could get the flu," Jennifer told him, eyes still shut tightly as she tried to block out the way the bed seemed to be rolling. "I'm so sorry, Ronon. I was looking forward to later, and I never thought--"
"I'm not leaving you," Ronon told her firmly. "John said you needed lots of fluids. What kind?"
"I'm not going to get rid of you, am I? Even if it's for your own good?"
Ronon folded his arms across his chest and shook his head. "No."
"I need something fizzy, to help settle my stomach. Something like 7-Up or Sprite."
"Anything to eat?"
"No!"
"Be right back," he told her. But, first, he leaned down and kissed her forehead quickly, then hurried out of the room and down the hallway towards the cafeteria.
A few minutes later, and he was carrying back a 2-liter of Sprite and a paper cup full of ice. He dropped by the infirmary where a substitute doctor was already waiting, and got the pills. When he entered Jennifer's quarters, she'd thrown up again, and was now burrowed under the covers, shivering.
Ronon poured her a glass, then supported her back while he put her pillows behind her head, helping her to sit up, before sitting down on the other side of the bed and holding the Sprite to her lips to help her drink and swallow the pills. Then, despite her protests, he pulled the covers off of her, leaving her only a sheet.
"It's cold," she whined.
"No, it's not. You've just got a fever, and we have to bring it down," Ronon told her.
"This is so embarrassing," Jennifer lamented. "Our first date and I throw up all over the place."
Ronon shrugged. "There's worse things that could happen."
"Like what?"
"The Wraith could've showed up."
Jennifer flopped back onto the pillows. "I guess that's true. It's just that this evening was supposed to be fun and we were supposed to get to know each other and kiss some more, and now I'm all gross and smell like vomit and you'll probably never want to date me." She buried her face in her hands.
"Hey," Ronon said. He reached up and pulled one of her hands down. She opened one eye and peeped at him. "People get sick. It happens. Not something you can help. And just because you're sick doesn't change that I like you. You'll get better, have a shower, and we'll finish what we started. Including kissing."
She gave him a tiny smile. "You're so great."
He smirked. "I know. Now, do you have a box?"
Jennifer stared blankly at him. "A box?"
"Yeah, you know, one of those boxy things Sheppard talked about, that you can see the movies in?"
"Oh, the TV, you mean."
"Yeah."
Jennifer nodded in the direction of her dresser. "Over there. We don't get the Earth channels here, but I've got some DVDs on the shelf."
Ronon got up and turned the TV on. "What do you want to watch?"
"You pick."
"Nah, you're sick. You should get to pick."
She smiled. "You're sweet."
He grinned.
Jennifer sighed. "Um, I guess, The Fifth Element. Something for both of us. Explosions and romance."
Ronon scanned the shelf until he found it, placed it in the DVD player, and lay down next to her on the bed, taking her small hand in his large one and stroking it with his thumb. Five minutes into the credits and she was already out. He smiled to himself and leaned back.
Three days later, and the flu had pretty much ran its course. Ronon had stayed with her most of the time, making sure she drank her Sprite, took her medicine, and placing cool cloths on her forehead.
Jennifer (showered, hair brushed, dressed, and non-nauseated) stood in her room, shaking out a fresh, clean sheet over the bed when Ronon knocked on the door. "Come in."
The doors slid open and he entered. "Hey."
"Hey!" She smiled.
"It's good to see you're feeling better."
"Thanks to you."
He went to the other side of the bed and grabbed the sheet, tucking it in while she did the other side, before they pulled the freshly laundered blanket over it. New pillowcases were slid on and placed neatly on the bed. Jennifer almost found it strangely intimate, making a bed with a man she'd kissed once and nothing more. It was somehow comforting.
Maybe this was a good thing, after all, Jennifer thought. If he could stay with her through vomiting, cold chills, sweat, and greasy hair, then perhaps there really was a future for them.
The met at the foot of the bed, toe to toe.
"Thank you," Jennifer said as she reached her hand up to stroke his jaw line, "for taking care of me."
"Anytime."
They stared at each other.
"I, uh, I think that we had started something we didn't get to finish," Ronon reminded her.
She didn't need reminding. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she fused her body against his, then found his mouth with hers. His hand snaked around her back, fingers playing in the area where the bottom of her shirt met the top of her jeans, tracing a finger along that thin, smooth line of skin, before sliding his hands up her back, but somehow staying in the area of modesty, before gliding back down to grip her hips as his mouth moved with hers, taking and giving all at once, and then the door was knocked again.
Jennifer sighed, and couldn't help giving him several small kisses before pulling away and answering the door. It was one of her lab techs.
"Hey, Dr. Keller," the tech said apologetically. "I know you've been sick, it's just that we need to get into the supply cabinet, and we can't find the spare key."
Jennifer nodded understandably. She turned to Ronon. "Be right back."
It took a few minutes to get to the infirmary, open the lock to the cabinet, and make sure the techs and nurses had access, then a few more minutes to get back. When Jennifer re-entered her room, she found Ronon sitting on her bed, skin pale, a strange look on his face.
"Ronon? What's wrong?"
He looked up. "I don't feel so good."
Dammit.