Del stared a moment, running the reasons and outcomes over in her head. "Well," she said finally, "It looks like the real me is bald."
Trip stood up, making his way towards the back of the sickbay. "I should get the doc."
"No need," interjected Phlox, popping out from behind the partition. "I've been monitoring her vitals remotely."
He made her way over to Deloa's bed, and ran a scanner over her blithely glaring face. "You know, this isn't really necessary. You could just monitor me remotely, like you said, instead of... fussing over me like this."
"It's better to be safe," he cautioned. "Now, I'll leave you alone for a little, if you want me to,"
"And I do," she interrupted.
"But," he continued, "I'll come back and check on you every hour, hm?"
She lay back on the bed, sighing. "Fine."
He gave her a small pat and retreated behind the partition.
Trip came back and sat by her. "So how're you feelin'?"
She let her eyes slide shut. "No better, no worse. Well, a little worse."
"You sure you don't want anythin' for the pain?"
"I've told you before," she muttered, "no."
"Maybe a little distraction?"
Her face brightened a little. "That'd be nice, thanks."
He retrieved her padd from a table in the corner. "Anythin' you in the mood for?"
"Well," she said, weighing the options, "mind reading me a story?"
"Alright. Anythin' in particular you want?"
Del thought for a moment. "How about... Song of the Hidden Heart? Chapter fifteen, that's my favorite."
"Ain't that the story you got your name from?", wondered Trip.
She nodded weakly.
"You sure you're okay?", he asked, brow crinkling in concern.
She opened her eyes and looked heavily at him. "Read."
He chuckled a little, tapping at the padd. "And she's back, folks!"
He focused his attention on the text. "Song of the Hidden Heart, Chapter the Fifteenth: Ke'Laran and the Wraith."
He looked over at Del, who had an arm flung up over her eyes. "Sounds like an adventure, alright."
"Read," she grunted.
Shaking his head, he began with the story.
"Ke'Laran, guardian of Elaidor, stood watch over the bridge to his citadel night and day. He sought to let travelers through and keep the ice bandits out. But one day, there came a mysterious figure, cloaked in shadow.
'Halt!', cried Ke'Laran, brandishing his staff. "What is your name?", he asked.
The shadow said, simply, 'I am nobody.'
The guardian wriggled his antennae to and fro in vexation. 'You cannot be nobody,' he proclaimed. "I see you, I speak to you!'
'And yet,' said the shadow, 'I am nobody.'
'Then, what does nobody look like?', he asked. 'Remove your hood.'
'Would you let me pass if I looked like an innocent child?', asked the shadow. And then it removed its hood, revealing the face of a sweet, lilac-skinned child.
'No,' said Ke'Laran, shaking his head. 'for that is not your true face.'
'And what,' said the shadow, 'would you say if I looked like a beautiful woman?' And lo, Ke'Laran, gasped, for before his eyes was a woman with flaxen hair and sapphire skin.
'I will not let you past,' he said, steeling his resolve, 'for this cannot be your true face.'
And the shadow tossed its head back and laughed.
When it faced him again, he was nose-to-nose with his own face.
'Now, do you see?', said the shadow. 'I have no true face. You see in me only what face I wish, unless I should wish to show my own.'
And the wraith Deloa, for that was her name, walked over the bridge and to the citadel."
Trip stopped reading, looking over at Del. She was fast asleep.
He grinned, and whispered over at her, "You gotta stop makin' a habit of this."
A wave of drowsiness overtook him. He looked at the time index on the padd. 23:46 hours. He yawned deeply.
He felt much too tired to go all the way back to his quarters, and, now that he had been sitting there for more or less an hour, the chair felt quite warm and comfortable.
And before he knew it, he was dozing off, too.