For someone who never wrote fanfiction, this is scary. This started as a
character piece but seems to be taking on a life of it's own. Is this what
happens to all fanfiction? The Battlestar Galactica gang belongs to Glen
Larson and Ron Moore. In an attempt to curb my kleptomania I have not
"borrowed" anything. Excluding the Lenna Dell who Crys created and I took
home in a bag.
Standard of Care by Lt Kathy "Doc"
Chapter 3: Recovery, Rehab and Capt Adama
It's been over a week since Dr. Baltar and his "invisible" accomplice attacked me. I am lying in bed in a small private room off the main Life Station. Not because I am a VIP, but because I am driving my staff crazy. My arm is healed but weak and I know I'm going to need rehab. I still get severe headaches and dizzy spells. Thank the Lords the vomiting has stopped. It seems not only did the good Dr. Baltar give me a concussion, but he also managed a hairline fracture to my skull. Even worse, I have been forbidden coffee. My staff has already caught me once trying to make a break for my office and the coffee beans. I am in a bad mood.
There is a knock on my door and in walks Commander Adama with a book under his arm. "I hear the Life Station personnel successfully thwarted an escape attempt today."
"I was just trying to test my legs, sir." To my horror I find myself continuing on into a full whine, "My arm is still weak, I have no coordination, and I still get headaches and dizzy spells, so no reading or needlepoint. What's worse is no coffee!"
"Hmm, I think I may have a solution." He pulls over a chair and sits, putting on his reading glasses before opening the book he brought. "I know this isn't a romance novel, but I thought you said you also like murder / mysteries. How about I read to you? Before you ask I had my eyes checked yesterday and already have new lenses."
I am initially shocked, but recover my bad mood. "Surely the Commander has better things to do than read stories to the CMO." Yeeks, why am I being such a bitch?
He tilts his head down a bit and I get the full power "Command Stare" from over his glasses.
"Sorry, sir," I meekly reply to the unspoken reprimand.
"I seem to remember a certain CMO ordering me to take some time for myself, exercise, and read a good book. Sound at all familiar? I'm just following doctor's orders. Now just settle back and let me read. That IS an order."
What can I say to that? I sigh and settle back waiting for him to begin. I can think of worse things than lying in bed listening to Commander Adama read. His voice is the stuff of my dreams, and no, I'm not telling ANYONE the ratings. He has spies everywhere. I find myself relaxing while listening to his low gravelly voice filling the room.
******************************************
A few weeks later I am back in my office on "light duty". I look at my right arm. It has taken me a few weeks to regain the strength and dexterity I had. I no longer have dizzy spells although I still have occasional headaches. If I ever get near Baltar again...
Dr. Baltar. Dear Dr. Baltar is definitely off the deep end. From conferences with colleagues on the Lenna Dell I know that brain scans have shown a small abnormality in the cerebral cortex. Through special image manipulation it's considered to be not naturally occurring and probably synthetic. The abnormality is too deep to remove surgically with any degree of safety. My esteemed colleagues consider 100 % chance of brain damage and 60% chance of death too risky. Damn! I mean, poor Dr. Baltar, stuck with that thing in his head. At least we have determined there are no signals radiating from it.
So Dr. Baltar stays in his nice padded room, taking some pretty pink pills, and talking with his little invisible friend. Until the day he dies.
I drop that thought and find myself smiling as I think about my last few weeks of rehab. The Commander decided to supervise my rehabilitation personally. He "told" me it was a great way to ensure he was getting the exercise I had prescribed him, and at the same time to rehab my arm. Devious bastard. That must be a requirement for battlestar commanders.
I usually exercise using the treadmill we have in the Life Station and do some work with free weights. Those weight machines in the gym have always looked a bit too complex for me. He convinces me to try them. He tells me they will be less stressful on my arm according to what my therapist has told him. The first time I tried to work the arm machine the Commander ended up on the floor. No, not because I hit him, but because he was laughing so hard he lost his balance and fell over. He won't be laughing at his next physical. I have been doing some supply inventory and know where all the big needles are. For that matter maybe I can find one of the smaller gowns for him to wear, a really small gown. After all, a girl needs something to look forward to.
*****************************************
I am finally returned to full duty status. Praise the Lords and pass the coffee. My office is clean and my desk is spotless. My needlepoint work of the Galactica hangs on the wall. I even have coffee in my favorite mug. The mug that says: Life's a Bitch and now I am one Deal with It.
There is a knock at my door and I look up. I am surprised to see Capt. Lee Adama. He passed his physical months ago. I believe he was the only one my staff did not have to hunt down. He actually showed up early. I had made a note of that aberrant behavior in his chart. His reasons for visiting now are a mystery.
"Sorry Doctor, can I come in? I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Please Capt. Adama come in. What can I do for you?" As he enters he closes the door behind him and takes a seat. Now I am even more curious as to his motives. He seems unsure as to how to proceed now that he's here. The silence stretches, the longer it goes on the more uncomfortable he looks.
He is wearing his day uniform. Everything is neat and in place. He could be a poster boy for Colonial Fleet recruitment. As I look upon him, I am again struck by the lack of physical resemblance to his father. Beyond their similar height, I see little of the Commander in his features, his hair is lighter, and more a dark blonde, and his eyes are an intense blue. However, his overall attitude and mannerisms are like looking at an earlier, less seasoned version of his father. I wonder if father and son even realize how alike they are?
I originally kept a close eye on Capt. Adama. All his medical records were on the Solaria, so I had to build a file from scratch. It is a combination of general fleet records, detailed history taking and yes, gossip. I knew he had only been promoted to captain about six months before the Cylon attacks. Then at Ragnar, he was made senior pilot and CAG. That is a lot of upward movement with little time for adjustment to the added stress and responsibilities, especially on a ship he was not originally assigned to, and didn't know the pilots or deck crews.
There were rumors about a serious split between father and son. If I recall correctly, it had something to do with the loss of Zac Adama in a tragic viper training accident. From my covert observations, that tension is no longer there. While father and son still seem to be cautious around each other, there is also genuine affection.
To his credit, Capt. Lee Adama has done well, shouldering his responsibilities and growing into the CAG position.
My sources, (yes, I have spies of my own, but I am small potatoes compared to the network Commander Adama has) seem to think there may be something going on between Capt. Adama and a certain Lt. Thrace. I have watched them together several times and they seem close. While I have never seen them engaging in inappropriate behavior or public displays of affection, you never know. Capt. Adama is an especially private man. How do I know that you ask? Try getting a medical history from him. I've seen Tauran bi- valves with looser "lips".
I do know that since Capt. Adama took over as CAG, I have seen a lot less of Lt. Thrace and her "sparring partners" here in the Life Station. I also hear her name has been taken off that special cell they use to keep for her in the brig. Maybe she's spending her time elsewhere with a new "sparring partner"? She could certainly do worse. In my strictly professional opinion, Capt Lee Adama is a very nice package. I know. I was the one who did his yearly physical exam. If I did not have high ethical and moral standards I could be rich selling the video. He may be handsome, but he still doesn't have his father's voice.
His sigh startles me out of my musings.
"Look, I know this isn't any of my business but I feel I have to ask anyway. Just what is going on between you and my father?" he continues on, "Both of you have been seen dinning together and exercising in the gym on several occasions over the last several weeks. The crew is beginning to talk."
I never saw that coming.
Before I can even begin to formulate a reply a loud overhead voice informs the Life Station of incoming trauma. Cassie opens the door and enters my office. "The freighter Gemini has had an engine malfunction. There was an explosion and by early reports five people are injured, I don't know how severely. Emergency shuttles have been sent, and the medical crews on the Gemini are currently getting the injured out and transported here. Approximate arrival time is 20 minutes."
I stand up saying, "Have Mark coordinate with the medical and transport teams. I'll be out in a few minutes. Notify Chief Tyrol that we'll be setting up a preliminary triage center in hangar bay 2." Cassie leaves and I turn to Capt Adama. "I don't have time for this now." I am already starting to unbutton my day uniform top so I can change into scrubs. He is still standing there waiting, for what I have no idea. "Capt Adama, I have a trauma to get ready for. We'll continue this later. You are dismissed." I don't think he expected that, I'm usually not one to stand on military ceremony. He pulls off a sharp salute and says, "Yes, sir." I return it and he leaves, closing the door behind him.
How the hell am I going to deal with this? I sigh. One disaster at a time, Kylen, one disaster at a time.
For overall top-of-the-line medical facilities the Lenna Dell is the place to go. Her doctors are first rate and they have the most state-of-the-art equipment in this fleet. However, there is only one place in the fleet where trauma patients are taken, and that's the Life Station here on Galactica. That's not just because we're the biggest ship. No, not even the Lenna Dell can come close to us in trauma services. To outsiders it looks like all hell breaking loose, but to those of us who deal with trauma all the time, it's a dance. When all goes right, the impossible happens. When it goes wrong, lives are lost. I am proud to say that my team on the Galactica are the best "dancers" I have ever worked with, and that is saying a lot.
As I enter the hangar bay to make sure the triage area is ready, I see Chief Tyrol and Capt. Adama in consultation. I walk over to the two men. I sigh as they both salute me. I have been saluted again. That's twice today. I salute back and ask, "Any problems with the incoming shuttles or the triage area Chief?"
"No, sir. As you can see the hangar bay has been cleared. The triage area is over there"
"The shuttles have landing clearance and viper escort," reports Capt. Adama.
The first shuttle arrives and we all move into action. The next few hours become a blur.
My last patient is on the table and the sounds of the OR are all around me, quiet voices reading off vitals, my colleague making adjustments to the anesthesia and techs handing me instruments. My fingers move in repetitative motions. It's not nerves. I'm tying off sutures.
When I was in training there was an old codger of a surgeon who was forever going on about the "days of giants". A time when we didn't have laser sutures and you used needle and thread to sew up wounds. You also had to know how to tie knots. One day I came up to him after a case and asked what was so hard about tying knots. The next three weeks of my life were living hell as I learned one-handed, two-handed, and instrument ties. I had calluses on all my fingers. I still do. When I had completed my training, that old codger came up to me with a present. Inside the box were his instruments. I told him I couldn't take them but he replied "Look Dr Salik, I am an old man and don't have much time. You were the first in a long while who took the time and trouble to learn how to tie knots. I have no use for these but you may." I wonder if he had ESP.
Our laser sutures are slowly losing power. Fuel is scarce in the fleet and the engines and life support get top priority. More and more I find we have to go back and use old technology.
I hold out my hand "Cassie, please pass me the 3.0 silk with a curved needle."
It's about 20 hours later. The patients are all alive, stable for now, and I leave them in the capable hands of Dr. Mark Sands. My body aches with fatigue and I need to sleep but my meeting with Lee Adama keeps running through my head. I find I have wandered onto the deserted hangar deck and pick a convenient corner to sit on the floor and rest a while.
What is going on between the Commander and me? I wish to all the Lords of Kobol I knew. I enjoy his company and I think the feeling is mutual. Yes, we dine together when schedules permit, and, yes, we exercise together about 3 times a week (the only time I use those damn machines). But to date I have never called him by his first name. What is his first name even? I mean, I know it's William, but does he prefer Will, Bill, William, Billy, Willie? I shudder at those last two. Ok, no Willie, or Billy. I think I once heard he had a nickname as a viper pilot but for the life of me I can't remember what is it. For that matter, he usually refers to me as doctor. Does he even know my first name?
I recall another statement Capt. Adama said during our short meeting. The whole crew is talking. Talking about the Commander. Talking about the Commander and me. Images pass before me. Glances the techs make when they see the Commander entering the Life Station, eyes quickly averting when the Commander and I are in the gym, the looks in the officers' mess, it's all adding up to a picture. A picture I have been too dense to really see. No, not dense, I knew what was going on, I just ignored it. Ignorance, thy name is Kylen. I try and wrap my mind around what the crew must see. They see the Commander and the CMO dating. The crew is probably speculating if the Commander and I are,... a list of about 50 words and phrases pop into my mind and they all mean the same thing, involved, with a capitol I.
I am not going to lie to myself and say I'm not interested. I may not be a spring chicken, but I'm not dead yet. For his age Commander Adama is in good shape. I have dreams about his voice, and, yes, the body is there too. Lords, I have not even been in his quarters except for staff meetings. He certainly has never been in mine. This is all too confusing for my tired mind to deal with.
I am about to get up when I'm aware of another person close by, watching me. I startle, my all too-recent experience with Dr. Baltar fresh in my mind
"I'm sorry to startle you, Doctor," says Lee Adama as he comes toward me. Despite the fact I want to run for cover, I wave my hand and indicate a vacant space near me. I have never had good luck.
Capt. Lee Adama sits beside me. He takes a deep breath as if getting ready for some great battle and begins speaking "I'm sorry about our earlier meeting. It was unfair to spring that on you, and I realize I am way out of line. You have every right to tell me to mind my own damn business," he continues on before I can even form a coherent thought. "It's just that I worry about the Commander, I mean my father. He's been alone for a long time. I'm not sure if you know this, but my parents divorced a few months after Zac's, I mean my brother's death."
He is silent for a while. Obviously even the memory of that event is still a slow healing wound to Lee Adama. I wait for him to continue.
There is anger in his voice as he speaks, and I get the impression this is something he needs to say, "After it happened, I didn't speak to my father for two years, because I blamed him for Zac's death. Looking back, I added tylium to an already intense situation. My parents were struggling to deal with Zac's death, and I was not talking to anyone aside from accusing my father of killing Zac."
I sigh, but he continues on, "Sometimes I wonder how much of a part I had in their divorce. Lately, things are better between us. I worry about him. We both tend to keep our thoughts and feelings to ourselves. I have noticed ever since he began spending time with you he laughs more, and seems more relaxed. He takes time out for himself. He wasn't doing that before. I just don't want to see him hurt. I hope you understand."
We are both silent, then I speak, "Look, Lee, I wish I could tell you what's going on between your father and I. I'm not entirely sure myself. I know, .. well at least I think we enjoy being together as friends, beyond that I have no clue. Once I, or we, figure it out, you will be the first to know. The last thing I want to do is hurt your father. I respect him far too much, and ....."
Damn, I wish I knew. Lee all of a sudden grins and says, "You don't need to continue, Doctor. I think I get the message." He stands up and holds out his hand. I'm not really sure, but I get the impression that more than a hand is being offered here. I take it and he pulls me to my feet saying, "Get some sleep, Doctor, you will feel better in the morning."
"Doctoring the doctor. I don't recall any mention of medical training on your files, Capt. Adama."
He starts laughing and I think I hear a muttered, "I sure hope my father knows what he's getting into."
"What did you say, Capt.?"
"Nothing, sir"
We walk out of the hangar bay and reach the main corridors of the Galactica. As we part to go our separate ways, I see a figure standing in the corridor heading to the pilots' area. She is not tall, but there's nothing fragile about her, unless you count those huge eyes trained on Capt. Adama. I was not born yesterday, however much I wish I had been. I turn to Capt. Adama and say, "Goodnight, Lee. May the Lords keep you safe."
For the first time I can think of, I see surprise in his blue eyes. He glances down the corridor to the pilots' area, and smiles when he sees that figure. Then he gazes at something behind me but quickly looks down into my eyes. An almost smile crosses his face and he replies, "Same to you, Doctor, same to you."
I watch as he walks toward the person waiting for him then I turn in the direction of the medical staff quarters. I look up to see a familiar figure standing down the corridor. He is looking at me with warm brown eyes, and I can almost hear that low gravelly voice. When I finally reach him, his gaze is intense.
"Anything you want to discuss, Doctor?"
"Not right now. How about you walk a tired old gal back to her quarters?"
"I don't know about old and tired, but it would be an honor to escort you to your quarters."
As we walk I have a grin across my face. The one thought that keeps running through my tired brain is, "Kylen, you are one lucky girl."
Too bad no one has started a lottery aboard the Colonial fleet. I would buy a ticket.
End.
Standard of Care by Lt Kathy "Doc"
Chapter 3: Recovery, Rehab and Capt Adama
It's been over a week since Dr. Baltar and his "invisible" accomplice attacked me. I am lying in bed in a small private room off the main Life Station. Not because I am a VIP, but because I am driving my staff crazy. My arm is healed but weak and I know I'm going to need rehab. I still get severe headaches and dizzy spells. Thank the Lords the vomiting has stopped. It seems not only did the good Dr. Baltar give me a concussion, but he also managed a hairline fracture to my skull. Even worse, I have been forbidden coffee. My staff has already caught me once trying to make a break for my office and the coffee beans. I am in a bad mood.
There is a knock on my door and in walks Commander Adama with a book under his arm. "I hear the Life Station personnel successfully thwarted an escape attempt today."
"I was just trying to test my legs, sir." To my horror I find myself continuing on into a full whine, "My arm is still weak, I have no coordination, and I still get headaches and dizzy spells, so no reading or needlepoint. What's worse is no coffee!"
"Hmm, I think I may have a solution." He pulls over a chair and sits, putting on his reading glasses before opening the book he brought. "I know this isn't a romance novel, but I thought you said you also like murder / mysteries. How about I read to you? Before you ask I had my eyes checked yesterday and already have new lenses."
I am initially shocked, but recover my bad mood. "Surely the Commander has better things to do than read stories to the CMO." Yeeks, why am I being such a bitch?
He tilts his head down a bit and I get the full power "Command Stare" from over his glasses.
"Sorry, sir," I meekly reply to the unspoken reprimand.
"I seem to remember a certain CMO ordering me to take some time for myself, exercise, and read a good book. Sound at all familiar? I'm just following doctor's orders. Now just settle back and let me read. That IS an order."
What can I say to that? I sigh and settle back waiting for him to begin. I can think of worse things than lying in bed listening to Commander Adama read. His voice is the stuff of my dreams, and no, I'm not telling ANYONE the ratings. He has spies everywhere. I find myself relaxing while listening to his low gravelly voice filling the room.
******************************************
A few weeks later I am back in my office on "light duty". I look at my right arm. It has taken me a few weeks to regain the strength and dexterity I had. I no longer have dizzy spells although I still have occasional headaches. If I ever get near Baltar again...
Dr. Baltar. Dear Dr. Baltar is definitely off the deep end. From conferences with colleagues on the Lenna Dell I know that brain scans have shown a small abnormality in the cerebral cortex. Through special image manipulation it's considered to be not naturally occurring and probably synthetic. The abnormality is too deep to remove surgically with any degree of safety. My esteemed colleagues consider 100 % chance of brain damage and 60% chance of death too risky. Damn! I mean, poor Dr. Baltar, stuck with that thing in his head. At least we have determined there are no signals radiating from it.
So Dr. Baltar stays in his nice padded room, taking some pretty pink pills, and talking with his little invisible friend. Until the day he dies.
I drop that thought and find myself smiling as I think about my last few weeks of rehab. The Commander decided to supervise my rehabilitation personally. He "told" me it was a great way to ensure he was getting the exercise I had prescribed him, and at the same time to rehab my arm. Devious bastard. That must be a requirement for battlestar commanders.
I usually exercise using the treadmill we have in the Life Station and do some work with free weights. Those weight machines in the gym have always looked a bit too complex for me. He convinces me to try them. He tells me they will be less stressful on my arm according to what my therapist has told him. The first time I tried to work the arm machine the Commander ended up on the floor. No, not because I hit him, but because he was laughing so hard he lost his balance and fell over. He won't be laughing at his next physical. I have been doing some supply inventory and know where all the big needles are. For that matter maybe I can find one of the smaller gowns for him to wear, a really small gown. After all, a girl needs something to look forward to.
*****************************************
I am finally returned to full duty status. Praise the Lords and pass the coffee. My office is clean and my desk is spotless. My needlepoint work of the Galactica hangs on the wall. I even have coffee in my favorite mug. The mug that says: Life's a Bitch and now I am one Deal with It.
There is a knock at my door and I look up. I am surprised to see Capt. Lee Adama. He passed his physical months ago. I believe he was the only one my staff did not have to hunt down. He actually showed up early. I had made a note of that aberrant behavior in his chart. His reasons for visiting now are a mystery.
"Sorry Doctor, can I come in? I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Please Capt. Adama come in. What can I do for you?" As he enters he closes the door behind him and takes a seat. Now I am even more curious as to his motives. He seems unsure as to how to proceed now that he's here. The silence stretches, the longer it goes on the more uncomfortable he looks.
He is wearing his day uniform. Everything is neat and in place. He could be a poster boy for Colonial Fleet recruitment. As I look upon him, I am again struck by the lack of physical resemblance to his father. Beyond their similar height, I see little of the Commander in his features, his hair is lighter, and more a dark blonde, and his eyes are an intense blue. However, his overall attitude and mannerisms are like looking at an earlier, less seasoned version of his father. I wonder if father and son even realize how alike they are?
I originally kept a close eye on Capt. Adama. All his medical records were on the Solaria, so I had to build a file from scratch. It is a combination of general fleet records, detailed history taking and yes, gossip. I knew he had only been promoted to captain about six months before the Cylon attacks. Then at Ragnar, he was made senior pilot and CAG. That is a lot of upward movement with little time for adjustment to the added stress and responsibilities, especially on a ship he was not originally assigned to, and didn't know the pilots or deck crews.
There were rumors about a serious split between father and son. If I recall correctly, it had something to do with the loss of Zac Adama in a tragic viper training accident. From my covert observations, that tension is no longer there. While father and son still seem to be cautious around each other, there is also genuine affection.
To his credit, Capt. Lee Adama has done well, shouldering his responsibilities and growing into the CAG position.
My sources, (yes, I have spies of my own, but I am small potatoes compared to the network Commander Adama has) seem to think there may be something going on between Capt. Adama and a certain Lt. Thrace. I have watched them together several times and they seem close. While I have never seen them engaging in inappropriate behavior or public displays of affection, you never know. Capt. Adama is an especially private man. How do I know that you ask? Try getting a medical history from him. I've seen Tauran bi- valves with looser "lips".
I do know that since Capt. Adama took over as CAG, I have seen a lot less of Lt. Thrace and her "sparring partners" here in the Life Station. I also hear her name has been taken off that special cell they use to keep for her in the brig. Maybe she's spending her time elsewhere with a new "sparring partner"? She could certainly do worse. In my strictly professional opinion, Capt Lee Adama is a very nice package. I know. I was the one who did his yearly physical exam. If I did not have high ethical and moral standards I could be rich selling the video. He may be handsome, but he still doesn't have his father's voice.
His sigh startles me out of my musings.
"Look, I know this isn't any of my business but I feel I have to ask anyway. Just what is going on between you and my father?" he continues on, "Both of you have been seen dinning together and exercising in the gym on several occasions over the last several weeks. The crew is beginning to talk."
I never saw that coming.
Before I can even begin to formulate a reply a loud overhead voice informs the Life Station of incoming trauma. Cassie opens the door and enters my office. "The freighter Gemini has had an engine malfunction. There was an explosion and by early reports five people are injured, I don't know how severely. Emergency shuttles have been sent, and the medical crews on the Gemini are currently getting the injured out and transported here. Approximate arrival time is 20 minutes."
I stand up saying, "Have Mark coordinate with the medical and transport teams. I'll be out in a few minutes. Notify Chief Tyrol that we'll be setting up a preliminary triage center in hangar bay 2." Cassie leaves and I turn to Capt Adama. "I don't have time for this now." I am already starting to unbutton my day uniform top so I can change into scrubs. He is still standing there waiting, for what I have no idea. "Capt Adama, I have a trauma to get ready for. We'll continue this later. You are dismissed." I don't think he expected that, I'm usually not one to stand on military ceremony. He pulls off a sharp salute and says, "Yes, sir." I return it and he leaves, closing the door behind him.
How the hell am I going to deal with this? I sigh. One disaster at a time, Kylen, one disaster at a time.
For overall top-of-the-line medical facilities the Lenna Dell is the place to go. Her doctors are first rate and they have the most state-of-the-art equipment in this fleet. However, there is only one place in the fleet where trauma patients are taken, and that's the Life Station here on Galactica. That's not just because we're the biggest ship. No, not even the Lenna Dell can come close to us in trauma services. To outsiders it looks like all hell breaking loose, but to those of us who deal with trauma all the time, it's a dance. When all goes right, the impossible happens. When it goes wrong, lives are lost. I am proud to say that my team on the Galactica are the best "dancers" I have ever worked with, and that is saying a lot.
As I enter the hangar bay to make sure the triage area is ready, I see Chief Tyrol and Capt. Adama in consultation. I walk over to the two men. I sigh as they both salute me. I have been saluted again. That's twice today. I salute back and ask, "Any problems with the incoming shuttles or the triage area Chief?"
"No, sir. As you can see the hangar bay has been cleared. The triage area is over there"
"The shuttles have landing clearance and viper escort," reports Capt. Adama.
The first shuttle arrives and we all move into action. The next few hours become a blur.
My last patient is on the table and the sounds of the OR are all around me, quiet voices reading off vitals, my colleague making adjustments to the anesthesia and techs handing me instruments. My fingers move in repetitative motions. It's not nerves. I'm tying off sutures.
When I was in training there was an old codger of a surgeon who was forever going on about the "days of giants". A time when we didn't have laser sutures and you used needle and thread to sew up wounds. You also had to know how to tie knots. One day I came up to him after a case and asked what was so hard about tying knots. The next three weeks of my life were living hell as I learned one-handed, two-handed, and instrument ties. I had calluses on all my fingers. I still do. When I had completed my training, that old codger came up to me with a present. Inside the box were his instruments. I told him I couldn't take them but he replied "Look Dr Salik, I am an old man and don't have much time. You were the first in a long while who took the time and trouble to learn how to tie knots. I have no use for these but you may." I wonder if he had ESP.
Our laser sutures are slowly losing power. Fuel is scarce in the fleet and the engines and life support get top priority. More and more I find we have to go back and use old technology.
I hold out my hand "Cassie, please pass me the 3.0 silk with a curved needle."
It's about 20 hours later. The patients are all alive, stable for now, and I leave them in the capable hands of Dr. Mark Sands. My body aches with fatigue and I need to sleep but my meeting with Lee Adama keeps running through my head. I find I have wandered onto the deserted hangar deck and pick a convenient corner to sit on the floor and rest a while.
What is going on between the Commander and me? I wish to all the Lords of Kobol I knew. I enjoy his company and I think the feeling is mutual. Yes, we dine together when schedules permit, and, yes, we exercise together about 3 times a week (the only time I use those damn machines). But to date I have never called him by his first name. What is his first name even? I mean, I know it's William, but does he prefer Will, Bill, William, Billy, Willie? I shudder at those last two. Ok, no Willie, or Billy. I think I once heard he had a nickname as a viper pilot but for the life of me I can't remember what is it. For that matter, he usually refers to me as doctor. Does he even know my first name?
I recall another statement Capt. Adama said during our short meeting. The whole crew is talking. Talking about the Commander. Talking about the Commander and me. Images pass before me. Glances the techs make when they see the Commander entering the Life Station, eyes quickly averting when the Commander and I are in the gym, the looks in the officers' mess, it's all adding up to a picture. A picture I have been too dense to really see. No, not dense, I knew what was going on, I just ignored it. Ignorance, thy name is Kylen. I try and wrap my mind around what the crew must see. They see the Commander and the CMO dating. The crew is probably speculating if the Commander and I are,... a list of about 50 words and phrases pop into my mind and they all mean the same thing, involved, with a capitol I.
I am not going to lie to myself and say I'm not interested. I may not be a spring chicken, but I'm not dead yet. For his age Commander Adama is in good shape. I have dreams about his voice, and, yes, the body is there too. Lords, I have not even been in his quarters except for staff meetings. He certainly has never been in mine. This is all too confusing for my tired mind to deal with.
I am about to get up when I'm aware of another person close by, watching me. I startle, my all too-recent experience with Dr. Baltar fresh in my mind
"I'm sorry to startle you, Doctor," says Lee Adama as he comes toward me. Despite the fact I want to run for cover, I wave my hand and indicate a vacant space near me. I have never had good luck.
Capt. Lee Adama sits beside me. He takes a deep breath as if getting ready for some great battle and begins speaking "I'm sorry about our earlier meeting. It was unfair to spring that on you, and I realize I am way out of line. You have every right to tell me to mind my own damn business," he continues on before I can even form a coherent thought. "It's just that I worry about the Commander, I mean my father. He's been alone for a long time. I'm not sure if you know this, but my parents divorced a few months after Zac's, I mean my brother's death."
He is silent for a while. Obviously even the memory of that event is still a slow healing wound to Lee Adama. I wait for him to continue.
There is anger in his voice as he speaks, and I get the impression this is something he needs to say, "After it happened, I didn't speak to my father for two years, because I blamed him for Zac's death. Looking back, I added tylium to an already intense situation. My parents were struggling to deal with Zac's death, and I was not talking to anyone aside from accusing my father of killing Zac."
I sigh, but he continues on, "Sometimes I wonder how much of a part I had in their divorce. Lately, things are better between us. I worry about him. We both tend to keep our thoughts and feelings to ourselves. I have noticed ever since he began spending time with you he laughs more, and seems more relaxed. He takes time out for himself. He wasn't doing that before. I just don't want to see him hurt. I hope you understand."
We are both silent, then I speak, "Look, Lee, I wish I could tell you what's going on between your father and I. I'm not entirely sure myself. I know, .. well at least I think we enjoy being together as friends, beyond that I have no clue. Once I, or we, figure it out, you will be the first to know. The last thing I want to do is hurt your father. I respect him far too much, and ....."
Damn, I wish I knew. Lee all of a sudden grins and says, "You don't need to continue, Doctor. I think I get the message." He stands up and holds out his hand. I'm not really sure, but I get the impression that more than a hand is being offered here. I take it and he pulls me to my feet saying, "Get some sleep, Doctor, you will feel better in the morning."
"Doctoring the doctor. I don't recall any mention of medical training on your files, Capt. Adama."
He starts laughing and I think I hear a muttered, "I sure hope my father knows what he's getting into."
"What did you say, Capt.?"
"Nothing, sir"
We walk out of the hangar bay and reach the main corridors of the Galactica. As we part to go our separate ways, I see a figure standing in the corridor heading to the pilots' area. She is not tall, but there's nothing fragile about her, unless you count those huge eyes trained on Capt. Adama. I was not born yesterday, however much I wish I had been. I turn to Capt. Adama and say, "Goodnight, Lee. May the Lords keep you safe."
For the first time I can think of, I see surprise in his blue eyes. He glances down the corridor to the pilots' area, and smiles when he sees that figure. Then he gazes at something behind me but quickly looks down into my eyes. An almost smile crosses his face and he replies, "Same to you, Doctor, same to you."
I watch as he walks toward the person waiting for him then I turn in the direction of the medical staff quarters. I look up to see a familiar figure standing down the corridor. He is looking at me with warm brown eyes, and I can almost hear that low gravelly voice. When I finally reach him, his gaze is intense.
"Anything you want to discuss, Doctor?"
"Not right now. How about you walk a tired old gal back to her quarters?"
"I don't know about old and tired, but it would be an honor to escort you to your quarters."
As we walk I have a grin across my face. The one thought that keeps running through my tired brain is, "Kylen, you are one lucky girl."
Too bad no one has started a lottery aboard the Colonial fleet. I would buy a ticket.
End.