Will McKenzie turned his head to look out over Sick Bay from his glassed-in office. Most of his patients were easy at the moment. Ski and John slept heavily. Pat tossed and turned a little, his discomfort plain; he'd had the strongest pain killer Will had on board, short of a dose of morphine, but his injuries would make sleep difficult. Chip Morton had refused any medication at all, which was probably just as well, and had chosen to sit in a chair, watching the room as if he were on guard… The X-rays hadn't shown any significant damage, but Will was only too well aware of the trickiness of head injuries. He had specialized in head trauma, and could quote case after case where the victim hadn't even lost consciousness yet died of complications hours or even days later. He knew of cases where the mandatory rest period of three weeks hadn't been observed, leading to relapses and other serious complications. It wouldn't happen on Seaview, and it wouldn't happen on his watch. These men were the cream of the crop; he'd never worked with a better crew. He wouldn't lose one without a fight…
Not that he was likely to lose this one; there were only two people of Will's acquaintance who were more stubborn than Lt. Commander Chip Morton. He rarely gave Will problems; he was a survivor, if ever there was one, and he would fight just as hard for life as Will would… He generally followed Will's orders to the letter, wanting to be back on his feet as soon as possible, and realizing that the quickest path to recovery was to do whatever Will asked of him… But if he got it into his head that he was needed elsewhere, Will doubted that he could prevail against that stubborn temperament… He had been afraid he was going to have a fight on his hands, this evening, but whatever Captain Crane had said had made an impression; Will was grateful for that…
Commander Lee Crane was one of the two who were more stubborn than Chip. If Lee had made it first to Sick Bay and been on the receiving end of Briggs' violence, Will really would have had a fight. Sometimes, it made him angry that the captain would so carelessly ignore his own issues. He was one of the few on board who understood the danger of a head injury, no matter how minor, but he would go about his own business without a word to anyone, expecting Will to say nothing. Their battles left Will exhausted and irritable, and yet, he liked the young man immensely. Lee Crane had a certain integrity; he would only go so far, even on ONI missions, even for the sake of his country. He could be trusted to do the right thing, even if everyone around him was not. Even if he only had a hazy idea of what the right thing was… His moral compass was – in its own way – as strong and unfaltering as Chip Morton's… For all their differences, both in their approach to life and in their personalities, they were strikingly alike in many ways… If only Lee were a better patient…
But the champion mule on this boat was Harry himself… He was the worst because he rarely lost his temper, but instead marshaled logical, scientific arguments that Will could rarely refute. When Will refused to listen to his reasoning or refuted it soundly with his own arguments, Harry would then pull rank without remorse, and walk out. If he were unable to walk out for whatever reason, then he would take his frustration out on anything and everything that moved around him… He was the worst patient Will had ever had. Smiling ruefully, he remembered the first time he had met Harry. Captain Nelson, he'd been then, and recovering from a gunshot that had come to close for comfort. Harry had struggled and shouted and refused attention… He'd marshaled arguments, and turned grimly silent when Will had refused to acknowledge them. He had demanded to be released immediately, and even gotten up off his bunk and tried to leave the infirmary. It wasn't until Captain Jiggs Stark had turned up and talked quietly with him, that Harry had at last given in and reluctantly allowed himself to be treated. Will had cursed him silently every time he'd erupted into rebellion, which was at least once a day… But when it was all over and done with, Harry had been charmingly grateful and somehow they had become friends. How that friendship had been forged into a strong and unbroken bond between them in spite of Harry's mulishness was probably due to the admiral's undeniable charm and Will's natural inclination to like everyone…
Harry had been down about an hour after Lee had left to talk to Chip privately. Will thought he'd seen a firearm change hands, and was sure of it later, when he saw Chip shift his arm as if to settle the gun more comfortably in its holster. He was carrying concealed tonight, which said that he and Lee and Harry thought there was a chance that the woman would make for the patients in Sick Bay, rather than take on men who were at one hundred percent. It made sense, and spoke volumes for the reason that Chip had accepted his imprisonment here for twenty-four hours with more equanimity than Will had expected. He was playing watch dog. But Will wouldn't argue the point. If it kept the man under his eye while he watched for any consequences from that head injury, Will wouldn't quibble at all.
He shivered, wondering why the room seemed darker… As if the shadows were clustering closer and closer…
A foolish fancy. Will shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs and glanced again at his patients. Odd… Patterson was still tossing and turning, but now he shivered and clutched at the sheets as if trying to shield himself from something. Chip, uncharacteristically, had fallen asleep in his chair, and was breathing much too quickly as if some unseen, unknown terror stalked him. John, too, writhed in his bunk, tormented by nightmares. Only Ski escaped unscathed from the heightened tension…
Will frowned, pushing away the shuddering dread that stalked his own waking thoughts, concerned for his patients. He rose, anxious to check on them, but as he reached for the door, he shivered as the temperature in his tiny office plummeted. Something terrible was here; something was very wrong… His hand closed on the door handle, but it seemed as if his fingers had gone numb, and when he looked down at the handle, he found that he couldn't see his hand for the shadows. Even worse, he knew that something was watching him from those shadows, watching and assessing him. He made his fingers turn the handle, and the door swung open. He could no longer see past the door into Sick Bay, however. The shadows had gathered as if a storm were coming. He heard a low moan and realized with a shock that it was his own voice, whimpering as if he were terrified. With a frown, he stood up straight and walked into the gathering shadows, refusing to be afraid, refusing to back down. His patients needed him…
He felt the touch of a hand on his arm, smelled a strange, feminine perfume drift around him… Then he knew nothing more…