31. "Don't worry about me." (Doctor & Marika)

(Author's Note: This story refers to the episode "Survival Instinct".)

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For a short time after her neural link with P'Chan and Lansor had been severed, Marika Wilkarah lived almost like every other Voyager crew member. She took a field commission as an ensign, worked in the biology lab with Wildman and Telfer, attended weekly Bajoran worship services with her compatriots on the holodeck, and was so brisk and competent in her manner that one could almost forget she was ill … until Telfer found her having a seizure at her desk and sent a frantic comm to the Doctor.

Soon afterward, it was decided that she had better move to Sickbay.

She was not an easy patient. She complained about the decor, about his music, about wearing medical gowns and getting scanned, but he couldn't blame her. The individuality she'd clung to with tooth and nail wouldn't be hers for much longer. It was only natural for her to put up a fight. So he put a folding screen and a soundproof force field around her bed for privacy, let her wear every kind of sleepwear from silk robes to pyjamas printed with cartoon animals, and argued with her only when his programming demanded it … such as times like this.

"Don't worry about me," she said through gritted teeth, waving him away as he approached with a hypospray. "It's just a headache. It'll be over in a minute."

"Ensign - "

"No painkillers. They make me feel stupid."

He swallowed a cutting retort. She was white-faced and damp with sweat, her eyes closed against the lights even though they were only set to twenty percent. The cortical monitor she wore was sending out some very worrisome signals. Just a headache, indeed.

"This is unnecessary," he said instead. "You're my patient, not a martyr."

"I need to be able to concentrate." She waved a hand toward the padd on her bedside table. "I need to do my job. I may not have much time left, but I'm damned if I'm gonna waste it."

"Believe it or not, I understand," he smiled wryly, "But you're not making my job any easier. Isn't there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Marika didn't answer for a long moment, as her face tightened against another stab of pain. When her eyes fluttered open and focused on him, they wore a wistful expression he rarely saw in her.

"Can I, um … could you get me some yshara tea, please?"

Yshara was a herb that grew in Marika's home province on Bajor. It had some pain-reducing properties and might be able to help with the headaches, but the Doctor suspected that in this case, the effect would be mostly psychological. It felt like a ridiculously small thing to do, but it was better than nothing.

"Computer, one cup of yshara tea," he said to the replicator. It obliged with a quiet beep.

Marika pressed the controls on her biobed so the top half would fold up, letting her sit while still leaning back. She had to hold the stainless steel mug with both hands so she wouldn't drop it. She blew on the steam and took a small sip.

Her face fell.

"Is something wrong with it?" asked the Doctor.

"Nothing." She shrugged. "It's … fine. Thank you."

She drank it down dutifully and didn't complain, but neither did she say anything else for the rest of the day.

That, more than anything, told the Doctor there was something wrong.