A/N-Had this one bouncing around in my brain for the past...I dunno but it's been a long time. Finally felt motivated to put this story down after a dream I had recently about the beloved doctor of the Normandy, a character I feel that has an opportunity for so much development and is so underutilized IMHO. I felt that it would be good to fill in a bit about her, and her past with Joker, make it a bit deeper. Bioware, I don't own any of this, you do. But if you're reading, I hope the good doctor gets a bit more screen time come next March!-Outreach117
November 7th, 2185 SSV Normandy, Local Cluster
Doctor Caroline Chakwas stared at her half empty bottle of Serrice Ice Brandy and turned her now empty glass around in her hand, contemplating another refill. Alcohol had long since overtaken her senses, and the world seemed to spin and roll, but did little to dull the pain she felt. Barely 24 hours ago she had come mere seconds away from becoming reaper chow and an exceptionally gruesome and painful death. Now, back aboard the Normandy and with sickbay ominously empty and quiet, she was left with only her thoughts. Not only a few hours before had everything been abuzz with activity, Shepard and his team needing treatment for their wounds, and the surviving crew badly dehydrated and malnourished from being kept in those stasis pods for several days.
Mordin, the eccentric salarian genius had handled most of the severe injuries up on deck 2 in the lab, converting his research station into a makeshift triage. Jacob, Miranda and Samara had all become doctors assistants right on the spot, the three having various levels of experience in first aid and medicine. Fortunately the worst injury to be had were some broken ribs that Garrus received, although the stout turian probably had his pride wounded more than anything else. All in all though the trip through the Omega 4 relay had gone off almost perfectly. By another miracle in what was a chain of miracles the entire team had survived and the majority of the crew made it out in one piece, and the collector base was nothing more than bits and pieces and to quote Urdnot Wrex, "nothing bigger than a turian's right nut."
By all accounts Ken and Gabby were back down in the bowels of engineering, probably in the middle of a rather passionate lip-lock session. Almost immediately after the Normandy had jumped out of the galactic core and in to the relative safety that was Omega, Ken had dropped down to one knee in front of God, Gabby and the entire bloody crew and proposed right there on the spot in the middle of the hangar bay. Gabby, for her part, was rather gracious in her acceptance and the whole debacle provided some much needed comic relief from the hell for what should have been a suicide mission. Kelly Chambers, in her glib and bubbly happy manner had already volunteered to be the wedding planner, and Shepard whose grace and generosity knew no bounds, had also agreed to officiate the wedding as was his right as ship's captain.
Now all the reverie and excitement of a job well done and escape was crashing down, and the doctor had gotten a bad case of the shakes. Slamming the glass down in resolution, Doctor Chakwas mumbled a slight, "fuck it," and started drinking her brandy by the bubble. The liquid fire that ran down her throat, however, felt like a soothing balm compared to what she felt deep in her chest. Slamming the bottle back on her desk, Caroline closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair feeling her senses dull even further.
"One shot every fifteen minutes or until no pain is felt, eh?" Came a deep, gruff voice that belonged to a certain Mess Sergeant Gardner. The doctor lazily swiveled her chair to face the new visitor to sickbay.
Smiling slightly and with a bit of a slurred speech Chakwas replied, "I'm not sure if there's enough booze in the entire Terminus, hell, the Milky Way, to fill that prescription, Rupert." The doctor and mess sergeant had developed a rather close friendship in the past several months working together aboard the Normandy. One was sophisticated and booksmart, the other streetsmart and rough around the edges, yet they got along surprisingly well together, seeing as how their respective "offices" were directly adjacent. Usually they lunched together two to three times a week, and Rupert consistently kept the extra dark coffee going for the poor doctor whenever she found herself pulling extra long hours in the infirmary.
Rupert smiled and pulled up a chair while the doctor offered him the bottle of brandy. Taking a long pull of the potent liquor, Rupert coughed and patted his chest, feeling the same burn that Caroline did. "Damn doc, that's some strong booze," he remarked, still struggling for air. Caroline let out a rather girly giggle from Rupert's almost comic response to the alcohol as he passed the bottle back, her inhibitions at a lower level courtesy of the brandy.
"Serrice Ice Brandy, 141 proof. Good for cleaning engine parts, getting totally wasted, or small scale flamethrowers in conjunction with a lighter," the doctor remarked matter-of-factly as she kicked back another bubble from the bottle.
Rupert smiled as she passed the bottle back to him and took another swig, this time the brandy went down more smoothly and managed to keep his composure. "So, what's on your mind, Caroline?" He asked as he passed the bottle back to her.
"Just thinking about stuff is all," she half-lied as she eyed the bottle that was getting dangerously low. "All this suicide mission stuff and a near brush with death, tends to make you reflect on your life and past." Knocking back another sip from the bottle, she dropped the now empty flask on her desk. "And I'm out of my medicine. Bloody terrific," she remarked with a slightly exasperated and slurred tone.
Rupert merely smiled and reached into his utility pocket on the left leg of his trousers and produced a yet unopened bottle of Southern Comfort. "Don't worry ma'am, got your refill right here. Fresh from the great city of New Orleans." Rupert gave a wide smile as he peeled away the lid and plastic opening. Tipping the now opened bottle back, Rupert took a deep chug of the southern bourbon, tasting the strong flavors and hint of caramel that made the liquor unique. "Here, have a slight taste of home."
The doctor smiled as she accepted the offered bottle. She knew Rupert was an earthborn and hailed from Louisiana, and wasn't that surprised to find that he had squirreled away the alcohol. Taking a curious sip of the different booze, her face turned to a smile as the new flavors flooded her senses. "But yes, Rupert, thinking about where I've been, what I've done, and where I'm going to end up," she lazily offered the bottle of SoCo back to her companion.
"Well doc, out of those three things two are already written in stone, the other has yet to be even written down," Rupert remarked and took another pull from his bottle.
"You're right, dear. You're so very right." Chakwas the leaned far back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, her mind drifting even further as the alcohol mixed in her system.
"So?" Rupert looked at her expectantly.
"So what?" She replied.
"So, are you gonna spin your tale or not?" He smiled as he swirled the contents of the bottle around in his hand.
Doctor Chakwas leveled her head and looked the gruff man in the eye, a smile spreading to her face. "Only if you pass that bloody good bottle of medicine back over." The bottle soon found itself resting quite comfortably in Caroline Chakwas's hands.