17

Sickbay, E Deck, 1035 hours, August 18 2151

Reed felt the bed move and lifted his head. For the past hour and a half he'd been sitting in the chair by Jean's bed, his arms crossed upon the soft blankets and using them as a pillow for his head. After Trip woke him at six that morning, he hadn't gone back to sleep, but a few minutes after resuming his post in Sickbay his head had become too heavy to hold up any longer, and he'd rested his forehead on his arms, letting the soft rhythmic beeping of the Sickbay monitors lull him to sleep. Now he glanced over at Jean, hoping that the motion of her bed meant that she was waking up. He wasn't exactly surprised to find that her eyes were still closed and she was in a slightly different position than before. It seemed that she had just been shifting in her sleep. He shook his head, gave a frustrated sigh and put his head down again, prepared to wait it out.

He wasn't sure how much time passed, but it didn't seem too much later that someone was playfully running their fingers through his hair.

"Hey, mister."

Reed's head shot up, his sleepy mind quickly putting the pieces together. He smiled at her, taking hold of the hand she'd been using to play with his hair. "You're awake!"

She winced at his shout, which had been loud enough to disturb some of Phlox's animals, and muttered reproachfully as the various creatures stirred in their cages. "And I'm not deaf…"

His face collapsed into a sheepish expression. "Sorry… How are you feeling?"

She chuckled, patting his hand reassuringly. "Heavily medicated. What did Phlox give me?"

He looked over at the IV bag, trying to read the label without leaving his chair. "Mo-, mor- something, I can't see the rest of the label."

Jean nodded slowly, her face settling into an expression of recognition. "Must be morphine. He's got me on the good stuff. I must be pretty badly hurt…" She closed her eyes and her body relaxed slowly into the mound of pillows propped up behind her.

"Is there water?"

Reed started, looking around for a glass. "Let me check…" He found one off to the side and left his chair to fill it at the sink near the equipment alcove. Halfway to the curtains he paused guiltily and touched her hand. "I'll be right back."

Jean nodded without opening her eyes. "I'll be here."

He let out a quiet snort of laughter. "I wasn't expecting you to run off." While he was filling the glass, he found a good sized metal pitcher near the sink. He filled it up too, bringing it back and setting it down on a rolling cart next to her bed in case she needed a refill later.

She was pouting when he came over with the glass of water. "Not nice to tease someone who's in hospital, Malcolm."

He was amused by her use of the British phrasing and he was about to make a snappy reply, but then he saw her expression. She seemed genuinely hurt by what he had said, and he kicked himself for being so glib. Under normal circumstances, she encouraged him to be playful, but these were hardly normal circumstances. He dutifully held the glass for her—he'd found a straw somewhere—and watched while she sullenly drank her water, hoping that helping her with that could make up for his blunder in a small way.

"I'm sorry, Jean. I thought you were…" he shook his head. It was silly of him to expect her to act like her normal self, considering current circumstances. Badly injured and on painkillers, he should have known that she wouldn't be feeling up to their customary banter. "Never mind. I didn't mean to upset you."

She let go of the straw and her head sank back into the pillow. "S'okay. Just try to be a little nicer to me."

Reed patted her shoulder and reclaimed his seat. "Consider it done." He leaned away and put the glass down next to the pitcher on the rolling cart. She had barely drank half of the water, and he wanted it to be close at hand for the next time she felt thirsty.

For a few minutes, she didn't say anything. Her eyes had drifted closed, and Reed wondered if she had fallen asleep. Trip said that when she woke up earlier that morning, she'd been loopy and hadn't stayed awake long. The loopy part was still true, to an extent, at least, and he reasoned that she probably still wouldn't be able to stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time. He resigned himself to the idea that she might not wake up again for at least another hour, so when she spoke a little while later, he was taken by surprise, and what she had to say didn't exactly put him at ease.

"Kiss me." Her voice was low and strained, as well as being throaty with some emotion which he couldn't identify.

He just blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

She seemed amused by his lack of comprehension. "Kiss me, Malcolm."

He glanced around Sickbay self-consciously, trying to work out what she might be thinking. "I—I really don't think that we, I mean, that I should…"

Her eyes were brighter now, more alert than they had seemed so far. A fond smile was starting to curve her lips upward as she stared at him unwaveringly. "I want you to kiss me." She spoke slowly, deliberately, and there was no mistaking her meaning or intention. No chance that he could claim to have misheard her, and since he had already promised to be nicer to her, he assumed that she would consider his refusal to be a violation of that promise. She had quite effectively left him with no means of escape.

He suddenly regretted teaching her how to play chess.

"Jean…" He shook his head, wishing for just a second that she had actually fallen asleep again. "You really want me to?"

She gave a crisp nod. "Yes. I'm…" she sighed tiredly, allowing her cheek to smush into the pillow. "I'm just feeling crappy, and a little affection from someone I care about would really help." She twisted her mouth to one side, a gesture of uncertainty which he found strangely endearing, and watched him expectantly as the last bits of his resolve disintegrated. "Please?"

Reed shook his head slightly while simultaneously trying to fight back a smile. Of all the things she had asked of him, this just might be the strangest, but he couldn't honestly say that he hated the idea. She just wanted a little affection. That was all there was to it, and truthfully, beneath everything else that he had been feeling ever since she was first abducted on their mission, the one emotion which seemed to fuel all of the others was affection for her. It was a deep, undeniable pull of fondness which drew him to her. It made him want to shield her from any kind of harm, to help her fend off sadness or discontent in any way he could, but he just… he hadn't expected anything remotely like this to come up, and it caught him off guard.

"Alright…" he slowly got up from his chair, wincing a bit at the movement. His ribs were still awfully sore, and moving too much or too quickly was quite painful for him. He ended up standing by the head of her bed, gingerly pressing a hand to his side and trying to catch his breath.

"But you should know that I'm only doing this because I want to help you feel better."

She nodded solemnly… or perhaps only with mock-solemnity, he wasn't sure which. In either case, it didn't matter. All that mattered to Reed was that his friend was hurting and she wanted him to help her feel better.

He rested one hand on the side of her bed, bracing himself to lean in. Because of his injured ribs, he wasn't exactly flexible just then, and bending over to kiss someone who was lying down was bound to be very uncomfortable, if not downright painful, so he wasn't precisely looking forward to this next part. He felt a nervous fluttering in his stomach as he got closer to her, and told himself that it was just the pain he was wary of, not the proximity. After all, why should being close to her make him feel nervous?

Reed hovered over her for a moment, unsure of his destination, but after a hurried internal debate, he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. Her skin felt wonderfully soft and warm beneath his lips, and he was ridiculously pleased when she sighed happily at the contact. Somehow, his other hand, the one not resting on the edge of her bed, had ended up stroking through her hair. He hadn't consciously decided to start doing that, and the intimacy of the gesture caught him by surprise. Jean didn't seem to mind it, though, and she even leaned her head into the touch, but she didn't shift enough to dislodge his lips. A puzzling swirl of emotions answered her reaction, and after about three seconds, he withdrew the hand from her hair and stood up again but didn't straighten completely. Instead, he felt around behind himself until his right hand found part of the chair he'd been using, and then he carefully guided himself into it, glancing over his shoulder a few times to make sure that he had stayed on course. Once he was sitting again, he let out his own happy sigh, despite the fact that his heart was beating much faster than it should.

He cleared his throat nervously, still confused by his own reaction to what had just occurred. "So, *ahem*, did, uhh, did that help?"

She nodded slightly, smiling at him warmly. "Yeah, and it cleared something up, too."

His confusion suddenly had a whole new source. "I beg your pardon?"

'Well," her smile had become mischievous in the past few moments. "A kiss on the cheek is either conciliatory or friendly; something you do to greet a close friend or relative, and one on the lips usually means that you have romantic or sexual feelings towards the person."

Was it Reed's imagination, or did she seem… disappointed when she said that last part?

"And, a kiss to the…" he swallowed nervously, and she almost seemed amused by his unease.

"Forehead?" she answered his unfinished question, smiling slightly, but not unkindly at him.

Reed nodded, shifting self consciously in his seat. He hadn't known that this was a test of some kind. He twisted his fingers together nervously, wondering exactly what kind of game she was playing. His palms were sweaty, and he resisted the urge to wipe them dry.

Jean reached out a hand from beneath the covers, laying it on top of his hands to stop his worried fidgeting. She smiled at him, giving one of his fingers a gentle squeeze. "… kiss to the forehead is reassuring and affectionate but not pushy. It usually means fond and protective feelings, but not expecting to get anything in return."

Reed let out a breath, unaware until just then that he'd been holding it in. "So, you didn't just want some affection, after all. Did you?" He studied her carefully, a little annoyed that she had manipulated him like that. However, he remembered how it had felt, kissing her forehead, the sensation of running his hand through her light brown curls, and his annoyance began slipping away. It had been… nice. Very nice, actually, but he wasn't about to tell her that. The moral high-ground was his, and like any good tactician, he wasn't about to give up his advantage.

She fidgeted slightly, and he had a faint sense of satisfaction that now she was the one feeling on the spot. Her hand dropped away from resting on top of his, and he felt oddly bereft at the loss of contact. "I did, but I also…" She sighed, twisting her mouth to the side again, and he felt guilty for enjoying her unease. "I just wanted to know where we stand, relationship-wise."

He shook his head, letting out a sigh of his own. "You could have told me it was a test."

Jean smiled weakly at him, then closed her eyes with a mumble. "…invalidate the test…"

He smiled ruefully, because really, he knew that she was right. Had he known, he might have done something differently and his response wouldn't have been as honest as it was. Of course, he realized that the way he had been running his hand through her hair bumped up the amount of affection they were dealing with by a considerable amount, but she hadn't made mention of that, perhaps because she didn't think of it. In any case, he was feeling so nervous already that he was very glad she apparently didn't make that connection. He was very fond of her, that much was true, and he didn't expect anything from her beyond friendship. Exactly how fond he was of her, though, and the idea that he might want to be more than just her friend had only just begun to dawn on him.

Without really thinking about it, Reed scooted his chair closer to the bed and laid his hand atop part of her arm, gently stroking through the Sickbay blankets. "Rest for a while, Jean," he murmured soothingly. "We don't want you to wear yourself out."

Jean licked her lips, nodding her agreement to his advice. Their conversation seemed to have tired her out considerably, and although her eyes remained closed, she didn't seem ready to fall asleep just yet. She coughed a tiny bit, wincing and going pale, and he surmised that the motion must have pulled at her sutures. She put a hand to her side in much the same way that Reed had been doing ever since the mission, and he frowned worriedly at her when she licked her lips again.

He moved his thumb slightly on her arm, hoping to get her attention. "Thirsty?"

She nodded, sluggishly opening her eyes to look at him. Her gaze was dull and unfocused, and he wondered just how much energy she had used up in the course of talking to him.

He smiled tightly at her, not certain she would even see it since she seemed to have shifted her focus to the ceiling. "One second, Jean." He reached over for the glass and was back, holding it up for her in a few short moments. Reed guided the straw into her mouth, watching as she drained the glass with steady sips. When she was done with it, he put the glass back on the other biobed and then settled into his chair again.

"Huh," she muttered, apparently talking to herself. "That's strange."

Reed looked around, hoping to see what she was reacting to. He didn't have any luck with that. As far as he could tell, nothing had significantly changed in their surroundings. He shook his head slightly, hoping she could explain. "What is strange?"

Her eyes were glazed when she answered, "I'm seeing swirls… colors."

Reed looked up at the hanging curtains, the small metal rings which attached them to a track in the ceiling, and the ceiling itself. Everything belonged to the same off-white, gray and metallic color scheme that he had become accustomed to seeing in Sickbay.

It's probably the drugs, he thought, and his hand reflexively migrated over towards the call button above her bed, fingers hovering near it as he debated with himself whether or not to call Phlox.

"Could it be a side-effect?"

She smiled at him lop-sidedly, her expression sleepy with a hint of curiosity. "Maybe," she shrugged one shoulder. "Never had morphine before…" Jean shook her head, chuckling lightly. "I know they aren't really there, but 'm still seeing them."

Reed frowned to himself. He didn't think that morphine acted as a hallucinogen, but he wasn't about to voice that thought. No need to worry her. However, Jean seemed to already be thinking along the same lines.

"I should probably be alarmed by that, but…"

"But?" Reed prompted, but she didn't respond for a while.

After about a minute, she rolled her head to face Reed better and blinked a few times, apparently trying to make herself more alert. "Sorry, was I saying something?"

Reed shook his head, smiling slightly. "It doesn't matter."

She squeezed his hand, absently playing with one of his fingers as her eyes fell shut. "So, fill me in. What happened on the mission?"

Reed furrowed his brow, fixing her with a confused stare. "Don't you remember?"

She cracked one eye open, giving him a steady look. "Last thing I remember was seeing Rostin about to give Lorrister a beat down."

Both of her eyes suddenly popped open and she stared straight at Reed. "Did I stop him? I think I tried to…" The biomonitors started beeping more rapidly, indicating that her pulse and blood pressure had suddenly increased.

Reed smiled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. He didn't want to upset her. "Yes, you did, but Rostin wasn't too happy about that. He stabbed you…"

The curtains around her bed parted and Phlox bustled in, admonishing Reed without looking away from the biomonitors. "Lieutenant, I trust that you aren't doing anything to upset my patient."

"Ease off, Phlox," she muttered, sounding annoyed. "He's just telling me what happened."

The doctor turned, smiling down at her. "Ah, I'm glad to see that you're back with us. How are you feeling?"

She chuckled, her face breaking into a silly grin. "High…"

Phlox turned a puzzled frown to Reed, apparently needing clarification. The lieutenant glanced at her worriedly before looking up at Phlox.

"She's seeing swirls of colors in the air. Is that a normal side-effect?"

The doctor bobbed his head in confirmation. "Yes, the opiate analgesic which I have given her can sometimes cause patients to have visual hallucinations, as well as nightmares. Does she seem troubled by what she is seeing?"

Reed glanced over at her and saw that her eyes were closed and she was breathing in a slow, steady rhythm. He still wasn't an expert at interpreting the biomonitors, but as far as he could tell they were indicating that her heart rate had slowed, too. In short, she seemed to have fallen into a peaceful sleep. He smiled to himself at the sight before turning back to Phlox.

"Not especially. She seemed to think it was strange, but she wasn't bothered as much as…" he cast about for a word, remembering her exact reactions to the colors. "She was more amused than anything else."

"I thought that might be the case." Phlox smiled at Reed's questioning look. "The sedative effects of the drug are most likely preventing her from becoming too agitated. If it becomes a problem, that is, if she starts seeing things which distress her, I will decrease her dosage."

Reed felt better knowing that the doctor was taking good care of Jean, but he frowned suddenly. "You said something about nightmares… What about the nightmare she was having earlier, when I was in here before?"

Phlox shrugged in his unique, exaggerated way. "I believe that was due to the psychological trauma she experienced on the mission rather than being drug-based, but we will keep an eye on her, and if she seems to be experiencing any further sleep disruptions, I will most definitely consider using a different medication."

Phlox tipped his head at Reed, regarding him in a most analytical and unnerving way. "Are you quite alright, lieutenant?"

Reed smiled faintly to himself before giving the doctor a slow nod. He noticed that Jean's hand was still clasping his own as she slept. Seeing their joined hands gave him a warm, contented feeling. "Yes, Phlox," he rested his free hand on his side, gently probing the sore area with his fingers to determine how bad it was. A few seconds later his curiosity was answered by the dull throb in his ribs increasing to a brief, bright jolt of pain.

His wince didn't escape Phlox, whose electric blue eyes were still staring fixedly at him. "Perhaps you might consider resting on the adjacent bed, hmm? Being in that chair cannot be too comfortable for your bruised ribs …"

Reed closed his eyes, focusing on trying to steady his breathing, and realized that he had unknowingly tightened his grip on Jean's hand while he was trying to ride out the pain. I'm becoming far too attached to her. He felt a flash of guilt and he loosened his grip, worried that his grasp might have accidently hurt her, but he didn't let go of her hand.

He shook his head and looked up at Phlox, hoping that his expression didn't betray any of the pain he was feeling. "If it's all the same to you, doctor, I'd rather stay with her."

Phlox nodded his understanding, flashing a smile at Reed as he moved to duck back into the main part of Sickbay. "As you wish, lieutenant, but if you change your mind, know that you are welcome to lie down on any one of the unoccupied beds."

Reed didn't want to raise his voice and risk waking Jean up from her much-needed rest, so he merely nodded. The doctor beamed at him and then disappeared through the curtains.