AN- Hey guys, been a while since I updated this. Kind thanks to everyone who is reading, asked for alerts etc. Also, many thanks to Mia Cooper for her thorough bta services and for sorting out my mistakes.

There will be smut, but not yet! It's sickfic o'clock now.

The walk to his quarters seemed endless. Armed with only a medical bag and a clean uniform, her training and a determination to take care of someone who was about to feel very ill. she kept moving down each long, grey corridor. Still not completely sure of the way. She was grateful Dr. Culber had made the journey with her.

"I'm sure you've seen this far more times than me, you've probably got some wonderful grandma's remedy up your sleeve. Medical science doesn't always offer all of the answers. We are on the other side of the comm if you need anything. Anything, ok? Keep checking in, at least every two hours. Here we are." He smiled sympathetically and patted Erin's arm as they reached their destination.

"We'll seal you off here, so you can open the doors. Do you have everything you need?"

Erin nodded unconvincingly as the barrier glowed around her and forced a weak smile.

"Good luck," were the last words she heard as the doors slid open and she reluctantly stepped in to face the challenge within.

The room was dimly lit, that at least was expected. Lorca sat stiffly at his desk, face hardened and angry. The doors closed on the outside world to a deafening silence.

"Powers," he said coldly, "you are my appointed babysitter. I can damn well do without being cooped up in here for days."

"I'm sorry, Captain." She was sorry for them both. "You'll be infectious for at least three days, and contact with some of our non-human crew could be life-threatening. May I?"

She ventured slowly into her Captain's private space, eyes adjusting to the lighting, before tentatively scanning him. He scowled and followed the invisible lines traced through the air by the medical device, eyeing the scanner and its operator with mistrust.

"Sir, you are infected." The slim hope he was merely a carrier was shattered by the readings in front of her.

"How long before I'm no use to anyone?"

"About an hour, maybe two at the outside. You should…"

He cut her off abruptly.

"Then I need to finish this, before I can't."

He sat upright; focused on his work, relaying orders and ignoring her presence completely. Erin checked through the contents of her bag, every tiny noise attracting a frown or grunt of disapproval. She silently took a seat, knowing that medically, he right thing to do was to talk her patient through the symptoms to come, answer questions and reassure him. She also knew in this instance the right thing to do was remain quiet.

She surveyed her unusual surroundings, taking in the details. It was early days on board and her experience of senior officers' quarters were limited, but it felt distinctly stark and impersonal, it seemed to suit him, judging on what she'd seen so far.

He finally closed down what he was doing. Erin fidgeted, avoiding eye contact, until he broke the uncomfortable silence.

"So, what the hell can I expect from this?" he frowned.

"It's going to attack electrical activity in the body, brain first, it's where there's the most noise. In most cases anyway," Erin tried to make light of it, feigning a smile. He was unmoved and shuffled uncomfortably. She cursed her own choice of words; bedside manner was usually one of her strengths. "It really isn't as scary it sounds," she reassured. His eyebrow shot up. She could see why, it was difficult to imagine Gabriel Lorca being afraid of anything.

"Spare me the science lesson," he barked, "just tell me what it does."

She wrung her hands together, straightened up in her seat and told herself to tell it like it was, no frills or gentleness required.

"It's sort of like…have you ever been drunk?"

He looked incredulous. "Maybe, once or twice."

"You'll feel confused, fuzzy at first, probably dizzy, then most people lose…social filters," she offered.

"So drunk and disorderly, I can do that," he looked a little brighter.

Erin sighed. He really hadn't ever seen stage one. Adults without social filters were far more troublesome than children.

"That's not it, is it?"

"No that's stage one. The virus will look for other neurological activity," she hurried on, observing his patience wearing again. "It'll move on to the rest of your nervous system, so you'll be pretty much immobile."

"For how long?"

"It depends on the patient. You look strong," she tried not to look at him, suddenly embarrassed by her appraisal, "maybe a day. Then the last stage is a fever."

He gritted his teeth. "Anything else I should know about? Am I going to turn green and start raving like a lunatic?"

She forced herself not to smile, it would have been highly unprofessional.

"The fever's a good thing, it means you're fighting it off and on the mend."

He let out an annoyed grunt and raised himself to his feet, only to stagger back. Erin leapt to her feet and tried to steady him. "Here we go," she said, resigned to her next three days of incarceration.

Over the next few hours he had become increasingly unsteady; he had tried to carry on working against Erin's advice and was now slumped on the floor in the corner hanging on for dear life.

"Feel sick," he grunted.

"Can you make it to the bathroom?"

He snorted in reply. She was right. The untrained eye would have mistaken him for well and truly drunk. She managed to steer him the right way and he blundered toward the toilet. Erin patted his back kindly until the retching subsided and was ready to offer water. He sat bleary eyed with an almost gormless look on his face.

"You know, you are very pretty, anyone ever told you that? You know you are," he slurred. "And I think… no, no I know you were sent with those, those legs," he jabbed his finger into the air, "to torment me. That's right, who sent you?" He laughed at his own ridiculousness. Erin wanted to, but her cheeks were burning with more than amusement.

"Damn fine, sexy legs distracting me."

Erin tutted, but became overly conscious that her unruly patient, still propped up beside the toilet, was at an unfortunate height to give him an eyeline roughly at the point where her boots stopped. Her fingers clasped around her hem, the security blanket she seemed to go to when he made her feel nervous.

"Aw don't do that, sweetheart," he said with the face of a disappointed school boy, "just take it off. We should do that, we should, it's hot in here. Do you think it's hot? You're hot, I'm hot, let's just do it."

He was dragging himself up to his feet, unsteady, but managing until he lunged towards her, pinning her to the sink, arms either side of her. She was uncertain if it was intentional, or just the way he had happened to sway. Either way he grinned and seemed exceptionally pleased with himself.

She shuffled awkwardly at the proximity, feeling like she should demand he moved, but finding herself unable to. He leant in against the sink and Erin convinced herself this was to support his wobbling frame and nothing more. She had nowhere to go and he pressed into her. He reached out to clumsily stroke her face. Erin came to her senses and slapped his hand away.

"Come on don't be boring. Kat's boring now. All so fucking serious all the time. Do you know Kat? She used to be fun. She used to like it when I…"

"I don't know Kat." She interrupted sharply. "Now behave yourself. In there now and sit down or so help me I'll give you a shot that knocks you out for a week." She pointed sharply and manoeuvred him out through the narrow doorway.

If only she could put him under for a while, but he needed to stay conscious. It was the best way to fight through it. She remembered her own exhausted mother had entertained her for endless hours as she'd giggled and babbled nonsense in her room until it subsided. Sleep would only allow the virus to take a tighter grip and prolong the whole thing.

She also had a pretty good idea who Kat was and that was a story she really didn't want to get into. Erin wasn't a gossip, but she heard plenty. It made her feel oddly uncomfortable, not just because the undesirably personal information most certainly pertained to a well-known Admiral, but because it hit her with a sharp sting of jealousy she was unwilling to acknowledge.

Gabriel perched on the end of the bed. He looked like a boy who had just been scolded by a stern headmistress, almost pouty.

"Drink this, it'll help with the dizziness at least." Erin handed him the concoction her mother swore by.

He took it sheepishly and sniffed it warily. Sipping the contents, he grimaced at the taste.

"What's in it?"

"Best not to ask. Drink up." She smiled, her voice softening. It was important to remind herself this wasn't a real situation. He wasn't actually drunk, nor was he in control of the words coming out of his mouth. It was better not to give it too much thought anyway, her imposing Captain lunging from lecherous wolf to wounded child.

"You shouldn't tell me what to do," he grumbled. "I am the Captain, you don't give the orders around here."

Erin rolled her eyes; she should have known the moment of peace was never going to last. She took the empty glass away.

"Yes, you are the Captain."

"Bar keep, I'll have another," he laughed at himself.

Erin was patient, but this was trying. She checked the time and wondered just how long before stage two would kick in and he'd at least be able to hold a lucid conversation and more importantly for her sanity, he could sleep.

"I want to go out. Let's go dancing," he was on his feet swaying precariously.

"You are in no fit state to go anywhere." She hooked her arm under his, hoping they didn't collapse in a heap.

"I am the Captain and I order you, no me, to take you dancing."

Erin sighed as he flopped back down onto the mattress.

"Am I good at being Captain?"

"Yes, Sir. Of course you are." Erin noted his mood shifting to melancholy.

"No, I'm not a good Captain. I'm an asshole. I bet that's what everyone says. Who are you again?"

"I'm a nurse, Powers, Erin Powers, I'm here to take care of you until you get better."

"Where are we?"

"In your quarters, on board Discovery."

He looked genuinely disconcerted, confused and unsure.

"That's not my ship. My ship is the Buran."

Erin puffed out the air from her cheeks and sat down gently beside him. She really didn't want to have this conversation now. If he genuinely had blocked out the events of his previous command and had no memory at all, it would be like breaking the news for the first time. Lorca was far too vulnerable and unstable to process it. She knew the official line; she had also heard numerous versions of events that had been whispered amongst the officers in her old post.

"Not anymore. This is your new ship." She stalled as best she could. What he might or might not say frightened her a little, yet he looked so sad and forlorn she couldn't help but feel for him.

"Where is my old ship?"

Erin wondered if he half remembered, she danced round the truth. "It's gone…she was…decommissioned."

"That's a lie. That's a fucking lie. Don't patronise me." His eyes flashed with anger and something else less Erin couldn't identify with any certainty, perhaps guilt. "They're dead. All dead." He paused, anger subsiding into sadness. "I killed them."

His head sunk into his hands. Erin had no words of wisdom or comfort to offer, they seemed pointless at this moment in time. She felt very certain this wasn't the soulless monster that had been described to her before she arrived here, that people had warned her about. He let out stifled sobs, even in this state he still hid his face out of shame.

"Gabriel," she whispered softly. It seemed odd addressing him that way, but Captain Lorca seemed even more ill-fitting. She shushed him softly.

She silently slid her arm around him and pulled him in, his head collapsed onto her lap and she tenderly stroked his hair, quietly comforting the broken man beside her.

"Don't go."

"I won't, Gabriel, I'm here."