"Yeah, that's the spot." He said, wincing as she taped on his bandages.
"Just trying to keep you from bleeding to death, Tom." She told him. "I'd appreciate if you didn't do this again. We were frighteningly close to losing you."
"Yeah, well, I'm too stubborn for that."
"So I'd noticed." She agreed. "I still need to operate again to get that last bit of shrapnel, you know."
"How long would I be under?"
"Hard to say. It was touch and go there for a while."
"Then I'm not going under. Not now."
"Are you questioning my judgment or is it a matter of authority?"
"What?"
"Tom, you need this surgery. You simply cannot walk around with shrapnel next to your liver. It's a ticking time bomb that can literally kill you. Now, are you questioning my judgment or do I need to get Rios in here to declare you medically unfit?"
"Rachel, we have a hostile submarine out there, and no functional sonar. I can't simply 'take a couple of days' to have surgery."
"Captain, this ship cannot afford to lose you because you are a pig-headed idiot. You have an executive officer for this exact reason."
"Okay, Doctor, what is a reasonable time estimate for me being a) unconscious b) mentally incapacitated and c) physically incapacitated?"
"Well, worst case scenario – I'd estimate six to eight hours for the surgery itself, but more likely three to four. Given your demonstrated pain tolerance and general stubbornness, I'd say a day of stupefying pain meds, and maybe a week of limited mobility and lesser pain meds. But didn't anyone ever tell you the captain is supposed to sit on the bridge, not join landing parties?" She smirked as she delivered the last bit. "So, really, only a day away from your captaining. Surely Slattery can handle that." He opened his mouth to object to her reasoning, but she rolled right over his attempt to speak. "So who should I talk to first, the XO, saying you question his abilities, or Doc Rios, to declare you unfit for duty?"
"…You fight dirty."
"If that's what it takes." She said simply, crossing her arms. "So what is it going to be?"
"Can I at least talk to Mike and Michener first?"
"I'll call them down." She said, smiling.
. . . . . . . . . .
A short time later, after the two visiting men had left, she went back in.
"So?" She asked. "Exactly how stubborn are we going to be?"
"We need to take care of the sub. Mike's good, but anti-sub warfare is more my thing than his." He saw her objection forming on his face, and sought to placate her. "It should be over, in a day, maybe two. At which point I promise you can come back aboard and play with your scalpels."
"Wait, what?" she was confused. "What do you mean, 'Back aboard'?"
"This sub is dangerous. There is a very real chance the ship will go down. You, the cure, the president, the kids… must be protected. You and the cure, for the sake of the world. The president, for the sake of the country. The kids, because they are the country. You need to be on dry land. If we kill this sub, I will come get you. And I will happily let you get this shrapnel out of me. Hell, I'd consider it a victory celebration."
She looked at him, shocked. This ship – this captain – had endured so many things, such long odds, so many times. It was so very hard to believe that this latest threat could actually be the one to bring them down, but from the look on his face, he believed it. And that sent a chill down her spine for reasons that had nothing to do with shrapnel.
"Tom – " she whispered, her normal bravado gone. "What if you don't come back for us?"
"Then this surgery is a moot point." Looking at her stricken face, he tried to soften his statement. "But I will do my damndest to be there for it. I promise."
She saw his attempt to reassure her, and did her best to meet him halfway.
"You also promise to take care of yourself, not just the ship? No running, no jumping, no physical heroics? Just walking, sitting, and standing?"
"Yes." He agreed, recognizing how much ground she was giving. "I'll be good."
She snorted.
"Right. In that case, take off your shirt and sit up straight." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm going to bandage you more tightly to restrict your movement. The less you bend that area, the better." He watched as she worked, putting on a look of martyred tolerance as she wrapped his entire torso so tightly it felt like he could barely breathe.
"Does it really need to be that tight?" he complained.
"The better to remind you." She smiled at him. She then took out a marker, leaning over to write on him. Do not remove, warranty void if broken – RS. She made sure to write across it in such a way that she could tell if it had been tampered with.
"Very funny."
"If I see you've undone this – " she said, tapping the bandage.
"I won't." He intercepted her hand and squeezed it. "Promise." He kept ahold of her hand, waiting until she looked him in the eyes. "I know I'm a pain in the ass patient. Thank you for putting up with me." He said sincerely. "Also, the bit where you saved my life is pretty awesome too." He added lightly.
"You're welcome." She said, doing her best to match his tone. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling it back to hand him his shirt. "Now, go kill that sub ASAP. I'll feel better once you're shrapnel-free."
"Will do. Now get packing. You go on shore in two hours."
"See you in an hour and a half." She replied, hurrying out of the compartment, leaving him to his own preparations.