M'Benga was nowhere to be seen. Again. Marshall sighed, resigning himself to yet another spillover shift. Another evening he wouldn't get to spend discussing shuttle design with Oleg, or listening to his latest favourites on the guitar. Not that it mattered. Krastev was never actually going to ask him out, and after nine months Marshall had abandoned any illusions he had of working up the nerve to do it himself. Some things clearly weren't meant to be. But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the guy's company. Or miss it, when the overtime became less the exception than the rule.
At least Castillo was here, sharing in the misery. You never could be bored with Maia around. He could hear her right now, shouting at Jessica over an unsteady comm. line. Something about unauthorised transporter use. Mount Kilimanjaro. The concealment of a possibly endangered chameleon. But mom, it was for a science project! If there was one thing that could be said for the Castillo kids it was that they were almost dangerously capable. Catch him hacking the community transporter at age 14.
Somewhere in the background, Jake was struggling his way through his particular brand of discipline; repatriation of the reptile, a letter of apology to the assembly. Maia was having none of it. "I'm going to be home in two weeks young lady. Two weeks. You have that long to get this whole mess straightened out. You do not want me to have to do it for you."
The argument dimmed a little as teenage outrage finally gave way to sullen acquiescence. Marshall remembered being that age. Apparently it never got any easier. He turned to fire up a screen for the day's data input only to find Noonien-Singh striding into the empty sickbay, her face set harder than usual, hands locking behind her as she stopped a few feet from him. Close enough that she wouldn't need to raise her voice. Far enough to run.
"You need to sign me off."
Her gaze was fixed a couple of inches over his left ear, her posture ramrod straight, twanging in a way that screamed injury to that indefinable part of his subconscious that had been honed running evac during the war. Nothing vital. Nothing major. But she was in pain. He motioned her over to the nearest bed.
"Let me take a look."
It took her a second to move, and when she did she skirted him carefully, holding herself rigid as she came to lean against the bed, barely sitting at all. Certainly not enough for the sensors to get a scan. He took her pulse the old fashioned way, partly because it was faster than the probe but mostly because her hands, now she'd loosened them, held a definite tremor.
"I'm fine."
"But I'm signing you off?"
"Yes." The word came out through clenched teeth.
"Can you tell me why?"
"Just do it."
Well that was a clear no. "I will. But you are injured. How about you let me fix whatever hurts. The pain can't be helping."
She was quiet for a second, everything tight. He was wondering whether she might bolt entirely when she reached for her shoulder, eyes on the floor. "I made a mistake, during training. Something gave."
The rotator cuff, probably. He ran the probe around the area, finding telltale inflammation. "You've done a number on the elbow joint too." She nodded without looking at him. "It's an easy fix. I'll just get some kit."
Her jaw tightened further, but she didn't actually object. Not until he'd wheeled his instruments over and turned to reach for the privacy screen.
"No."
"That's fine, I don't have to…" But she was already standing, her breathing off, her pupils blown wide like a panic attack waiting to happen. He caught Maia's eye over her shoulder, already heading for the comm. as he reached for a stool, dropping onto it slowly, keeping out of La'an's space. "Nothing happens that you don't agree to."
Was there any point telling her to breathe? Trying to ground her? If anyone knew the techniques backwards it was Noonien-Singh. She would have tried, and it wasn't working.
"Just sign me off."
"I will. But I'd like to help. Can you sit back down?" She did, carefully, barely, only after he'd wheeled the stool further back. "You have a torn rotator cuff and a sprained elbow. The sprain can heal with rest, but the tear needs regenerating. It will take about ten minutes. It's non-invasive. The pain will stop right away, though it will be tender for a few days. I can do the elbow too, if you'd like. Give you some analgesics for the road."
She was watching him, gripping the edge of the bed to keep herself in place. She clearly didn't want him any closer, and treatment at six feet wasn't exactly his specialty. He wheeled himself another good foot backwards before he chanced getting up. "I'm going to get you a glass of water, and then…"
"No." He could practically feel the panic coming off her. "Sign me off."
"I will, but your injuries…"
"Are fine." She was up again, backing away from him, fists balling. "Sign me off."
He'd already said he would. She wasn't on duty. She could have left, but she hadn't. She wasn't. Which meant he was supposed to be doing something, he just didn't know what. He'd only seen her like this once before, the day after the Gorn attack, way past midnight in an empty sickbay, her raised voice bringing him and Maia out from where they'd been racking backup supplies to peer over the upper railing and watch Chapel fold her raging form into a solid, deep-pressure hug. One he didn't think he'd survive replicating, even if he had the nerve to try. Those things worked for Chapel. Not so much for him. Certainly not like this.
"I will. I've said I will. I'm just trying to help."
"Then sign me off!"
It was the first thing she'd said to him, and she kept on saying it. For god's sake Glenn, listen. "Why?"
The question caused her to take a breath. She was still a coiled snarl of clenched fists and black eyes, but her defences seemed to have stuttered. "I made a mistake."
During training. Which was anomalous, given her record. Security crew often came in with accidental injuries. La'an never had. "Maybe you were due."
"No."
Wrong answer.
"Sign me off. Now." The quiet was somehow more frightening than the shouting had been.
"Look…" But Maia's glance made him turn towards the door to find Chapel, rumpled in a faded hoodie, already taking La'an in with soft eyes.
"Hey."
La'an's chin came up, everything tightening backwards, but Chapel stepped forward unperturbed, hands held up disarmingly. She rolled the equipment cart away from the wall. "Let's sit." For a moment Marshall didn't think it would work, then La'an sat, sliding down to press herself into the vacated space. Chapel knelt in front of her, close without touching. "This is ok."
La'an shook her head. It was a jerky motion, her frame still rigid. "They can't have this. They take everything. They can't have this."
"No." Chapel took one of the hands La'an had locked around her knees. Marshall was surprised how easily it came loose. "They can't. Not another second. Not another inch. This is your life. They want it, they'll have to come through me." She had La'an's full attention now. Glenn's too, for that matter. She had to be talking about the Gorn, and the mental image of Chapel taking on that faceless evil the same way she had the pirates was pretty arresting. It certainly seemed to have shocked some of the panic out of La'an. Chapel smiled at her, loosening the other hand too. "We'll work it out."
So, the rumours were true then. Not that Marshall had had many doubts on the matter, but he hadn't been anywhere near as sure as Ortegas either. Nowhere near sure enough to join the betting pool. Chapel was more complex than she let on, underneath the crazy exterior, and she was in love with Spock, plain as day. Whatever she had going on with La'an, it was clearly complicated.
And it was none of his business.
La'an pulled in a tight breath, head tipping back against the wall, blinking at the ceiling. Marshall made to leave only to find her eyes snapping towards him.
"You're supposed to be fixing me."
"I thought I'd give you a minute."
"It hurts. Do it now."
From anyone else it would be rude, but somehow La'an made the bluntness sound like an invitation. Convey a level of trust. Marshall wasn't about to squander it. He brought his regenerator down to the floor, since there was no way he was getting her up on the bed. Chapel shifted aside only far enough to make space.
"What happened?"
"I made a mistake. I wasn't… I was distracted. I fumbled a hold, and it just…" La'an twitched her arm abortively, tightening at the motion.
Chapel sighed what was almost a laugh. "You pinched a nerve a few days ago. Hunching over your console, no breaks, dehydrated… Feels like neck pain, right about…" her fingers pressed into La'an's shoulder, making her flinch, "there?" She smiled, wrinkling her nose. "Cervical Radiculopathy. Symptoms include muscle weakness, loss of sensation, nothing you'd notice, until someone tries to throw you… Sound familiar?"
La'an was pulling in actual air now, finally, deep unsteady breaths. "Asshole."
Chapel shrugged. "You were ignoring it. And I couldn't just…" her thumbnail swept lightly along the back of La'an's neck, making her head turn, her eyes flutter for one slow, quieting second. "It's not my area. Never mess with the spine."
Physiotherapy was Maia's specialty, but Marshall was not about to suggest calling her over. He barely felt like he should be here himself. It wasn't just that thirty seconds on a biobed would have picked up the misalignment, though that wasn't helping. It was more that the moment seemed intimate, intense in a way he couldn't quite follow, as if there was a missing conversation simmering between the lines.
"This is going to sting until the pain stops."
La'an nodded. She took a few more deliberate, measured breaths, eyes holding Chapel's, until her shoulders relaxed enough for him to work. He took her wrist so he could position the arm, feeling her pulse come down as the minutes passed. Chapel sat and held her hand, tracing the metacarpal spaces, the bones in her wrist, until her eyes closed.
It seemed ridiculous, suddenly, how all the gossip centred around announcements: When they would admit they were a couple. The timing of their first public kiss. Whether La'an would challenge Spock to a death match, and if so, who would win. Marshall suspected Sam Kirk was the originator of that one. The man really was an ass.
None of that actually mattered. What they had didn't need a label to be real, revolving around each other in a way that seemed perfectly balanced, two such apparently incompatible people sharing a secret they alone understood. It made Marshall a little sad, somehow, to realise none of his own relationships had ever lived up to that. That maybe they never would. Oh get a grip Glenn. Don't get maudlin, you have a job to do.
The shoulder healed smoothly. La'an let him do her elbow too, flexing her arm, testing her fingers to explore the lack of sensation she hadn't realised she'd had. "Come in when you're ready and Castillo can fix that for you. For now, I'm signing you off. Two days. Go get some rest."
"I'm fine."
"You're overworked. The ship can survive without you."
"We're…"
"A glorified paddy wagon currently well within federation space. There's nothing out there. There's barely anything in here. If Chapel could take those guys down, Hassan can hold them in the brig. You can take two days. Enjoy them."
It was clear La'an didn't think she could. She looked lost. Frightened, even. But Chapel smiled, open and soft as she squeezed her hands. "We can do that. It's only two days."
La'an watched her, unreadable as Marshall stood to put the regenerator away. "Analgesics. They'll last you 24 hours." He handed the hypospray to Chapel, because La'an hated those things. Chapel simply waited, pressing them home at her quiet nod.
"They can't have this."
"They can't." Chapel pushed to her feet, drawing La'an up with her. "Let's go home."
Maia gave him a second, then came to pat him on the back as he stood watching the empty doorway. "Before you convince yourself you want that, consider how much baggage went into making it happen. Simple can be a blessing."
Well if anyone would know… "Remind me, was that three months' grounding you were threatening, or two?"
"Only if she doesn't sort her mess out. Which she will. They always do, in the end."
"How big is this lizard?"
Maia rolled her eyes, holding her hands out shoulders' width. "Three days, and neither of them noticed. It took the hub chief coming out to the house."
She had pictures in the office. Marshall whistled appreciatively. "Chapel's going to love this."
Maia dropped into the chair beside him. "You realise we're going to be covering her shifts now too?"
He did. But love was precious.
It was worth it.