Chapter 50 Patient
Cottle was worried.
And he hated worrying, it upset his digestion.
He stood beside Kara Thrace's bed, chart in hand, and contemplated what to tell the Admiral.
After carefully examining the unconscious woman when she was first brought in on the gurney, he had ordered sedation, wanting to give her body time to fight the physical damage without being compromised by her mental condition. By the second day her fever had broken and her wounds were starting to heal nicely, so he'd reduced the sedative level, expecting her to wake sometime later that day. She hadn't.
Still not worried the following morning, he had halted all the tranquilizers. It was now evening on her third day under his care and she should have started to come out of it by now. All her medical stats looked good, if somewhat depressed, about what he'd expect from someone deeply unconscious. Just for good measure, he'd run another CT to make sure there wasn't any brain bleeding he'd missed the first time around. Thrace's brain was squeaky clean, and wouldn't she get a laugh if he told her that. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at the thought.
Everyone thought he and the volatile Viper pilot didn't get along. Everyone was wrong. He understood where she came from, he'd seen her scans after all. A childhood like that would have taught her to fear hospitals and to lie to, and expect lies from, her doctors as a matter of course. He'd always made it a point to be bluntly honest with her and she had respected him for it. Thrace scorned weakness, so he didn't sugar coat his words or treatment. No pity or sympathy welcomed on that front.
They had actually come to an understanding during her first month after transferring onto Galactica when she'd sprained an ankle on one of her morning runs and the CAG had insisted she get it checked out. Though he hadn't known of the mess of broken bones back then, Cottle had years of experience with treating recalcitrant patients and he'd instinctively known the best approach to take with the defiant young officer. His judgment hadn't been proven wrong, up until now.
Cottle reflexively reached into his pocket for a cigarette, then slipped it back away with a sigh as he remembered that her lungs were still compromised by the mild case of pneumonia. He tapped his pen on the chart instead, irritated at his patient's continued unconscious state.
"Always gotta do things your way, huh?" he muttered to the silent woman.
Deciding to give it one more night, Cottle confirmed with the staff to wake him if there was any change in Captain Thrace's condition, and then ambled off to bed.
[ I I I I I ]
Well, she was awake. Lot of frakkin' difference it made, Cottle thought as he stood in the same spot ten hours later.
The night nurse had roused him a little after four that morning with the news that Captain Thrace had opened her eyes. He'd hurriedly dressed before going to her cubicle. Shouldn't have bothered, he grumped as he consulted his notes for the third time. Yes, her eyes were open, pupils equal and responsive to light. Yes, all the instrument readings were more in line with a conscious person than one in a coma. But that was all the good news to be had.
Even though all the readings stated that Kara Thrace was awake, the actual fact was significantly different. His patient was responsive alright, but only to the simplest of commands if repeated several times. There was also an unnatural rigidity to her body that seemed in line with his current theory. At least the EEG showed an adequate level of brain activity.
Adequate level. Cottle wondered how he was going to explain that to the Admiral. All systems go, but the pilot hadn't bothered to show up to fly the vessel. Right, that was going to go over well.
As he stepped out of the curtained area, making sure the drape closed completely behind him, Cottle looked up to see the anxious faces of Thrace's triad as he had mental dubbed the three men. Pulling his delayed cigarette out, he lit it and waved for them to follow to his office again.
Deciding there was no use pussyfooting around the news, he said, "Thrace has gone catatonic." He watched each of them process his statement before turning his attention to the Admiral. "She woke this morning, or at least that's what the machines say. Her eyes are open but she's not home. And, no, I don't know what the frak to do now," he quickly added, cutting off their words before they could start in on him.
All three were subdued as they absorbed the implications, then Adama cleared his throat and tentatively asked, "Isn't there something? Drugs or…" he trailed off.
"A proper hospital would have a few that might work," he admitted, then shook a finger at Adama, "might's the key. Besides…I don't have them so it's a non-issue anyways." As he saw his old friend's face fall, he relented and gave them what little hope he realistically had, "Look, this type of traumatic reaction usually passes on its own. Maybe in a few hours or a few days. Best thing is to let her rest and keep her environment calm and safe."
"Can I see her?" Lee asked.
Cottle gave the young man the once over then glanced back at his commanding officer, trying to work out the most tactful way of making his position clear. Ah, hell. Tact had never been his forte anyways.
"No, you may not." Then meeting the senior Adama's equally intense look. "You neither, Admiral." Both men started to protest and he waved them silent with his palms. "Both of you have clearly said that your interactions with Thrace lately have been…problematic. Now, I'm not saying that you won't be able to see her in the future. But right now, gentlemen, that young woman is my patient and when I say she needs a calm, safe setting…that doesn't include either of you." He stubbed out the butt for emphasis as he added, "Too damned many issues right now between you two and her."
"But, I need—" Lee started, only to be interrupted by his father's hand descending on his shoulder.
"I know, son. But Kara's not in a place to hear it just yet. Her needs come first." Cottle saw the younger Adama's shoulders slump beneath his dad's grip and knew he wasn't going to get any trouble from that pair, at least for now.
"And me?" Helo asked.
"She responded to you before," Cottle grudgingly acknowledged. Rubbing one eyebrow, he mulled the pros and cons then gave a resigned shrug, "Ok, we'll see if she'll come around for you again." He moved to leave, but paused when the Admiral cleared his throat.
"I'd like a word," Adama said to the doctor while giving the two younger men a look that clearly indicated that they were dismissed from the discussion.
After a brief glance at his commander, Cottle turned to Helo. "Wait for me by Thrace's bed. Do not speak to her. Do not touch her. Wait," he said, tone and scowl promising dire consequences if disobeyed. Then to Apollo in the same manner, "Major, I'll let you know as soon as I feel it's safe for you to visit." Then adding a warning stab of his finger, "You try anything before then, I'll have your ass in hack so fast your feet will be ten minutes behind." He glowered at Apollo until the younger Adama gave a nod. He only hoped it was in agreement and not just acknowledgment.
After waving irritably for the two men to go ahead and get out of his office, Cottle reluctantly turned to face Bill Adama. He kept silent, letting his friend lead into whatever discussion he hadn't wanted to include the other two in. He watched as the Admiral stepped to the door, giving it a slight push to make sure it was securely latched before swiveling on his heels to face Cottle.
"Was she raped?" Adama asked, the question spilling forth as if vomited.
Cottle wasn't surprised to hear what Bill wanted to discuss in private. In the past few days the Admiral had been busy debriefing anyone that might have knowledge of what had happened to Kara, both on New Caprica and since her return to Galactica. He'd made the resulting reports available to Cottle, and the picture the doctor gleaned was far from complete, but ominous in its implications. They really had few details about the months of her imprisonment, but certain points were highly disturbing, namely that the Chief had found Thrace in an apartment she'd appeared to be sharing with a Cylon male and a child. This was what brought Bill to toss out his explosive question.
"I've no physical evidence…but, yeah, I'd say it's likely," he gruffly confirmed his friend's fear.
Adama turned away, and Cottle saw the heavy shoulders shudder and worried that the added stress might push the other man into a collapse of his own. He made a mental note to schedule the Admiral for a physical. The remains of the human race were riding on this man's health and Cottle was bedamned if he'd let Adama work and worry himself into an exhaustion-induced heart attack.
The Admiral seemed to gather his resolve and shake off the rage and grief to swing back to face the doctor again.
"What do you know?"
"Next to nothing," admitted Cottle with a shake of the head. "But you really think this Leoben held her four months in the homey little setup the Chief described and didn't try to make it a reality?" He took the Admiral's grim nod as agreement.
Adama cleared his throat twice before finally managing to ask, "What do we do now?"
"Do? Wait. See if Agathon can get through to her."
"And when she comes out of it?"
Cottle heard, and understood, that Bill wasn't willing to consider the possibility of her not coming out of the catatonic state.
"Again, don't know. Have to play it by ear. See if we can get her to tell us what the hell happened to her. But…" he trailed off as he considered the odds of the young woman opening up about her time in captivity. And if there was a sexual component to her torture—the odds of Thrace talking about it to any of the men in her little circle was pretty damned remote.
"Let's not go dredging for trouble till we know there's something to find," Cottle said, heading towards the door. "I'd better go check that the Agathon's followed orders."
Leading the Admiral out, Cottle sent one of his rare prayers towards the ceiling, asking the gods to give him some divine guidance in handling the young woman, for he feared that if Kara Thrace went down now, she'd take the heart of the Galactica right along with her.
[ I I I I I ]
Karl stood to the side watching Kara blankly stare at the ceiling above her bed. He'd kept to the doctor's restrictions, not speaking, nor moving to take her hand when he'd entered the curtained off enclosure. Her eyes hadn't even registered his presence and the slackness of her features confirmed the doctor's words more than any machine could. Kara Thrace might be physically present, but all else that encompassed his dynamic friend had obviously gone AWOL.
He was torn between the desire to rage at her, demanding that she haul her ass back from wherever she'd fled, and the competing impulse to slide onto the bed and cradle the broken woman and make promises that he'd make sure that nothing ever hurt her again. Both options were equally attractive and potentially as problematic. Would challenging Starbuck lead the traumatized Kara back to them, or drive her further away? And as for making promises to protect her—usually he could've counted on Starbuck to hand him his ass for even suggesting it, but Kara might be in need of just that type of support from him right now.
Shutting his eyes, Karl silently worked his way through his alphabetical curse list. He and Kara called it the Starbuck ABCs. They'd made a game of it one night over ales to see if they could come up with a curse word for every letter of the alphabet. By the end of the evening, they'd succeeded, though a few were their own proud creations and raised eyebrows whenever shared.
He'd made it as far as the easy S when he heard the rustle of the curtain and opened his eyes to see Cottle enter. He gave a nod to the Doc, not sure if the no speaking restriction was lifted yet and not wanting to give the man any reason to kick him out.
"Has she looked at you?" Cottle asked as he moved to the other side of Kara's bed and studied the instrument readouts.
"Not a flicker," he answered softly, still unsure what manner to use to try to reach her.
"Humph," Cottle grumped then turned to meet his eyes. "Well, take her hand and talk to her, man," the doctor said with a hint of irritation.
Over the next couple of hours, Karl tried every idea he had to draw Kara out. Cajoling and ranting, joking and ordering, reminiscing and belittling, none even elicited a twitch from the still form. He'd gone so far, with Cottle's permission, as to lightly slap her. Nothing seemed to reach her. The doctor had exited the curtained area a little while ago and now Karl was left on his own, reclining on the bed with Kara held across him with her cheek pressed to his chest. Even settled against him, Kara's body maintained a rigidity at odds with the slackness of her expression.
Karl blinked back the wetness in his eyes as he considered which was worse, the confused, chaotic Kara from the crate cubby or this soulless doll he was now holding. At least before she'd known him, had still been fighting. Now…it was like the fight was over and she'd left the ring.
Maybe he just wasn't the right person to call her back. Laying on the bed in sickbay, Karl considered their other candidates. Before New Caprica—and Sam—he would've had no doubt that Lee could've reached her. Something had happened though to damage their bond, and he was afraid Cottle was right that the Lee was more likely to make matters worse than help.
The same thing went for the Old Man. Karl felt a wave of guilt flush through him over his part in the Admiral's confrontation with Kara and Saul Tigh. If he'd only handled them himself, things might have gone differently. He had never expected the Admiral to come down on Kara the way he had.
Few people really understood the role Bill Adama played in Kara Thrace's life. They only saw the Viper pilot the Admiral favored above all others. Thanks to their time together on Caprica running from the Cylons, Karl had learned more about Kara's parents than he'd known in all the years prior. On their return to Galactica, hers and the Admiral's interactions took on a whole new dimension in his eyes. In the Old Man, Kara had found a father that showed her love and approval. Even more than that though, he had been there for her. First, in his support after Zak's death, and later proving himself again when, against military protocol, he'd held the fleet around the moon after she'd gone down.
Karl knew that intellectually Kara would've understood that the Admiral hadn't had a choice about retreating when the Cylons had jumped in above New Caprica. She might have even been able to handle the fact that it took four long months before a rescue could be staged during which she suffered gods knew what torment. All of that paled though before the Old Man's confession of his rec room ultimatum.
No. As close as Kara and the Admiral were, Adama's words had triggered her final descent and he wasn't going to be able to fix that bridge overnight.
So, who did that leave? Most of the other crewmembers were barely more than acquaintances.
The crying of a distressed child drew his thoughts outward for a moment as he wondered what the Doc was doing to make the kid scream like that. As the screeching got louder, Karl felt something move against his side. It took a second for him to realize that Kara's hand was twitching.
"Hey you! Kara, can you hear me?" he asked, gently moving her to the side so he could see her face. Disappointment dropped his heart when he saw the same blank look in her eyes. Her hand abruptly stilled. Swallowing against the bitter let-down, it took a minute for Karl to notice that the distant child had stopped crying. Glancing towards the closed curtain and back at Kara, his brows knit in speculation.
The child.
The Chief had said that Kara had insisted in going back for a little girl she'd said was her daughter. Kacey, he thought her name was. And then the child's mother had apparently reclaimed her once they'd returned to Galactica. Since none of them had ever considered Starbuck as mother material, it hadn't occurred to them what her comments to the Chief might mean. Were they overlooking the little girl's importance?
"Kara, tell me about Kacey," he said, watching for any reaction. None came. "Who's Kacey?" Still nothing. Determined now not to get discouraged, he pondered what else to try. Leaning forward, he placed a gentle kiss on Kara's forehead and slid out from beneath her, carefully rearranging her on the bed so the various cords and IV lines weren't tangled.
"I'll be back soon, Starbuck. And maybe I can even bring a visitor." He gave her a last wistful look, wishing with all his heart she'd just sit up and call him an idiot. Turning away with a sigh, Karl hurried off in search of the doctor.