Jean-Luc awoke to a feeling of discomfort. No pain, but heaviness across his chest. He knew instinctively that he couldn't sit up, so he didn't try. Instead he looked down and saw the intricate life support system covering his body. A spasm of fear shot through him.
From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of someone standing near his bed. He tried to speak, but the words were barely a whisper. Still, the person came closer and leaned over him. The lower portion of the face was covered by a sterile mask, but the eyes above it were a warm brown.
"Shhh. Don't try to talk." The voice was soft and calm. "Can you hear me?"
Jean-Luc nodded.
"That's good." The woman pressed a wet cloth to his lips. "I'm sorry, but I can't let you drink any fluids right now."
Blessedly though, a few drops of moisture trickled into his mouth, down his dry throat.
"You're going to be all right," she continued. "My name is Hope, and I'll stay with you." She gently brushed his thinning, dark hair back from his forehead. "You just rest now."
~vVv~
The three of them sat together; a patchwork quilt of bruises and abrasions. They had not yet changed out of their dusty uniforms, but they had been examined by a medic and debriefed by the first officer of their ship, the U.S.S. Forrestal .
The Nausicaans had not denied the charges against them, and so there would be no formal hearing. But Jean-Luc would have hell to pay when he got better. If he got better, Trenton O'Dell thought to himself for the millionth time.
The weapon had pierced Jean-Luc's heart; the attending surgeon had told them as much. But of course, Trenton had known that from the moment he'd lifted his friend off the ground. He rubbed his palms nervously against his thighs, impatient to be of some use. And yet, he knew there was nothing he could do.
Trenton was the newest, youngest surgeon on the Forrestal, with only a year's practical experience behind him. He was, unquestionably, the best, most talented physician to come out of Starfleet Medical Academy in the past decade. And he knew it. But it wasn't something he was cocky about. He quietly accepted the fact that he was damned good at what he did. And he didn't have to try to convince others. As the saying went, his actions spoke louder than words.
But here, he was out of his league. The damage to Jean-Luc's heart was beyond his present capability to repair, but although the medical facility at Earhardt was small, there were some fine, experienced surgeons on staff. And he was counting on them to pull his best friend through.
"Some leave," David Craig mumbled from the other side of the waiting room. "I always told him that big mouth of his was going to get him in trouble one of these days."
"Yeah," Tay added, "but whoever thought it'd get him damn near killed."
Apparently none of us," Trenton sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "We should have kept him out of it."
"Trenton," Tay looked over at him. "Blaming ourselves isn't going to help him. And besides, we couldn't have kept him out of it even if we'd tried. You know how Jean-Luc is."
Trenton nodded tiredly in agreement. Tay was right. He did know how Jean-Luc was: loud-mouthed, opinionated, occasionally undisciplined. For a long time, at the beginning of their friendship, he couldn't understand why he acted that way. Jean-Luc was smart, bright, top of his academy class. He had all the earmarks and makings of an excellent Starfleet officer, bound to make captain before the age of thirty-five. Over the years, though, Trenton had figured his friend out. Jean-Luc was in a hurry. Almost too eager to succeed, and rise in the ranks. Time ran too slowly for him, made him impatient. He longed for adventure, confrontation, discovery. And he vented his frustration in those less desirable aspects of his personality.
"He's going to be all right," David said, as he walked over and sat down on the sofa next to the other two men. "Jean-Luc's a fighter."
"That's what got him into this predicament," Trenton sighed, his mind reliving the fight. Seconds. He'd only hesitated a matter of seconds, but Trenton knew he would be haunted the rest of his life by the realization that his hesitation could have claimed Jean-Luc's life. He stood and began to pace the length of the room. "A parthenogenetic implant," he murmured, as he thought aloud to himself.
"A what?" Tay looked up at him.
"A parthenogenetic implant," he repeated. "They'll have to use one if they can't repair the damage to his heart."
And he'd been right. Jean-Luc's doctor came to them a half hour later.
"The damage is too great." Doctor Kingsley sat across from them, elbows on knees, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. "We'll have to replace his heart with a parthenogenetic implant. Luckily we have one available here at the base. They're not easy to come by."
Trenton nodded, but Tay and David looked confused.
"Why are they so rare?" David questioned. "Can't they be replicated?"
"Unfortunately, no," Kingsley answered. "The technology is much too sophisticated. But, like I said, we're in luck. We have one here."
"When will you perform the surgery?" Trenton asked.
"In the morning. I want to wait until he's good and stable."
"Can we see him?" Tay queried.
Kingsley shook his head. "It'd be best if you waited. In fact, the three of you should report back to your ship and get some rest."
"I'm a doctor, sir," Trenton told him. "I'd like to stay."
"All right, but you two..." he shifted his gaze.
"We'll go," David said as he and Tay stood up. He glanced down at Trenton. "You'll keep us informed?"
"You know I will."
~vVv~
Another face, another pair of eyes above a mask. Only Jean-Luc knew these eyes. Had stared into them over many a poker table.
"Trent," he whispered.
The face leaned in closer. "Hey there, buddy," he said softly. Since he was a doctor, Kingsley had given him permission to see Jean-Luc for a few minutes. "You're gonna be all right."
Jean-Luc stared up at him, disbelieving. That's all any of them said: Hope, the doctor, and now Trenton. Well, he didn't feel all right.
"What... happened?" he murmured, his eyes searching Trenton's face for an answer. But all he saw there was fear, fear that intensified his own. Tears filled Jean-Luc's eyes.
"Hey, it's not that bad," Trenton lied as convincingly as he could. He gently placed a hand on Jean-Luc's face, his fingers wiping away the tears on his cheeks. "They're going to operate in the morning, fix you up, and before you know it, you'll be out of here, as good as new."
He was bluffing. Jean-Luc could tell. Saying all those pretty words, but not believing them himself. Like holding a pair of threes against a full house.
"Scared," Jean-Luc admitted tiredly, feeling dark sleep reaching out, overtaking him again. He drifted towards it.
"I'm here," Trenton assured, his hand still on Jean-Luc's cheek. It was the only place he could touch him, for the life support system covered him from the shoulders down. And that touch was important. A bit of warmth in the midst of cold technology.
~vVv~
Trenton had studied Van Doren's technique at medical school, but he spent most of the night reacquainting himself with it. Doctor Kingsley had given him the use of a small office next to the main lab, as well as a room down the corridor.
He'd suggested again that the young doctor get some much needed rest, but Trenton was too keyed up to sleep.
He studied the procedure carefully, mentally taking Jean-Luc step by step through the process. He anticipated what could go wrong at each phase, and determined what a good doctor would do to counter the problem. He'd replaced Jean-Luc's heart a dozen times in his mind when sleep finally overtook him, and his head dropped down heavily towards the desk, cushioned by his arm.
~vVv~
