Posted June 29, 2022, 6:19 p.m. by Commander Roman Alden (First Officer & Chief Science Officer) (Nicole Cline)
Posted by Ensign Rand Farquharson (Yeoman First Class) in side - sim: An Unwanted Trip to Sickbay
Posted by Commander Roman Alden (First Officer & Chief Science Officer) in side - sim: An Unwanted Trip to Sickbay
Posted by Ensign Rand Farquharson (Yeoman First Class) in side - sim: An Unwanted Trip to Sickbay
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻
After Knight left, Rand stood there a moment looking both confused and concerned. Had she handled that situation wrong? The way Knight kept qualifying what he said told her that maybe she had. Was it just her memory messing up that had been wrong or something else? Her head was still too muddled for her to really figure that out, and trying to force her head to work only made her light headed and dizzy. So instead she decided to actually go into the gym and just walk around the outer edge. She was allowed to walk and this way she was in one place, right?
It was also common ship knowledge that an assassin had come after Roman and he’d been electrocuted in an attempt on his life. It was known and likely noticed that Roman had been off duty for a month, and still wasn’t back on bridge duty but was on other duty. It was the same reason Rand’s office had blown up, everyone knew they were engaged, so she had been a target too. The assassin had been caught recently. Roman was working on his exercises with the resistance band, switching to a thicker band, while he half listened to what Rand was saying. She was still having trouble translating, he knew that. He chose to keep working.
Rand stopped right inside the door watching the back and forth. Kovan was avoiding sickbay - normal. Roman was also avoiding sickbay - normal. Roman was doing more than he was supposed to - normal. Kovan threw Roman under the bus - normal. Roman and Kovan openly admitting they were in need of medical attention (granted to say the other was worse off, but still) - twilight zone. Kovan and Roman arguing over who was in more need of medical attention but with tones more reminiscent of loving siblings - Rand must have died or hit her head again. She was really confused and couldn’t make it make sense.
So she started walking, just focusing on walking and not trying to hard to make the puzzle pieces fit. Moving felt good, to get air in her lungs and stretch from where she’d been in bed for so long. It was meditative and she made several laps around the gym before she started to jog, slowly at first, but then she just kind of fell into the rhythm. Her head didn’t really like it though.
Roman had given up the resistance bands and was instead doing calisthenic exercises: push-ups, sit-ups, lunges and the like. At a break in between, he watched the rest of the gym for a moment. He noticed Rand, on her normal route around the edge of the gym… jogging. Not walking. She was certainly not supposed to be doing that, and when it came to health Roman was the king of double standards. So, he stood up and moved to intercept her on her path. “Miranda, what exactly are you doing? You’re allowed to walk not jog.” He said as he headed toward her.
Now Rand tended to meditate, sort of, when she ran. Just the rhythm, the movement, and the breath. She has not intended to come to the gym to run, it just sort of happened out of habit. Running was relaxing and soothing for her. Her head did not agree at the moment and her body was in agreement with her head. She felt sluggish and slow and was working on finding her rhythm. And she blinked, a lot, the jarring making the edge of her vision black. Which in turn made her off balance and her coordination off and she was going to trip, almost had. If she considered her difficulty she would have stopped but she was determined to find her rhythm and balance.
So when Roman called out her full name, it got her attention (because only he or Randy did that) buuuuut it startled her and she quite literally tripped over her own feet when she stopped concentrating and looked up. “Huh? Wha....?” and fell.
Roman was already nearly to her when she fell and he let out an audible gasp as he watched her go down. Within a short minute he was next to her, and then bending down by her… and then scooping her up, and then she was in his arms against his chest like when she broke her ankle. “You’re not supposed to be jogging, you’re not ready for that kind of excercise… and if you hit your head when you fell that’s dangerous with you still having head symptoms.” He looked really worried, looking down at her face while he held her. “I should take you to sickbay, just to be sure.”
Rand landed on her knees and her palms, jarring herself hard, making her vision go black. The jarring made her elbows give out and she ended up curled against the wall.
Her head hurt. Being lifted suddenly made her head swim, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it. She blinked a couple of times; her eyes were more dilated than they should be in the bright light but at least they were a matched pair. “Duilich. (Sorry.)” Then she closed her eyes and rested against his shoulder. She didn’t argue about him not being allowed to lift over 10 lbs or that he was carrying her. Until he mentioned sickbay. “Chan eil mi airson a dhol gu sickbay. Tha iad dìreach gam leigeil a-mach. (I don’t want to go to sickbay. They just let me out.)”
Then she was moving, but she wasn’t walking....”Ròmanach, cuir sìos mi. (Roman, put me down.)”
She’d made it worse, Roman knew she had, and he didn’t want to make her go, but Elbbirt’s warning after his own concussion rang in his ears: A second fall when you already have a head injury could have deadly consequences. He needed to be sure she would be okay. “Should have thought about that before you fell.” He replied to her comment about just letting her out of sickbay. “I’m not putting you down so you can fall again. Especially not when it sounds like you’ve reverted back to Gaelic again.” She was considerably over ten pounds and his body was protesting, but he could rest when he got her to sickbay, he rationed, her being okay was more important.
That wasn’t fair! He knew she was still having trouble. It didn’t flow anymore, she had to translate everything in her head before she could speak it. It wasn’t easy anymore, and it was frightening how her head didn’t work the way she needed it to, and it made her useless. She was quiet for a long time, maybe Roman thought she was being cooperative, when really she was trying to figure out how to say what she was thinking in English. “I fell because you air a bhuaireadh (distracted) me.” Then she pushed away really hard against his shoulders. “t..Ten pounds. Put…Me....Down.”
Roman was walking the whole time she was quietly thinking. By the time she spoke he was nearly to the lift. He shrugged playfully, giving her his best robin hood look though it was tainted with worry for her, “I can’t stop existing. And you shouldn’t have been jogging.” Her voice was too cute when she failed to come up with the English for ‘distracted’ and she slipped back into Gaelic.
Her face could not decide if it needed to blush because he was right, it wasn’t the first time Roman just being around distracted her, OR if she was pale with guilt because she’d worried him and hurt herself because she forgot. It took until they got to the lift for her to mutter, “I know…”
His distraction made it easier for her to push against him harder and he nearly stumbled with her weight redistributing itself in his arms. He had to stop walking and steady himself and tightened his arms around her, pulling her tightly toward his chest. “You’re making me work harder.” He complained. After he’d already been working out the sudden overwork of carrying her was having an effect on his body but he was stubborn and refusing to let her go. He stepped onto the lift. “Deck 9.”
There was no where that Rand felt better and calm and safe than when Roman hugged her, so it was impossible to not lean against his chest, and add onto that, the guilt that she was making it harder on him, and she became very still. She also knew that tone, and he was going to easily out stubborn her on this. The lift started to move and Rand just felt horrible. She was able to retain information that she was told now, where when she’d first gotten hurt she could not, but still sometimes she had to be told a few times. And it was still incredibly hard to remember things, and she didn’t think she’d ever remember what happened to her. And she was easily confused, even over simple things, like where she kept the tea. She hated this and the longer it went on the more sure she was she wouldn’t recover enough to stay in Star Fleet. And now Roman was carrying her like she had broke her foot again. She sounded sad, forlorn, and a hitch to her voice. “Cuir sìos mi. Faodaidh tu grèim a chumail orm gun a bhith ga ghiùlan. (Put me down. You can hold onto me without carrying me.)”
Her tone made Roman melt, his stubborn look softening by several degrees. But he shook his head and hugged her a little tighter. She hadn’t gotten lighter, but at least she wasn’t pushing against him anymore. Then, rather suddenly, as the lift doors began to open on deck 9, he gave in and carefully set her down, his arm never leaving her to support her. “We’re almost there. It’s a short walk from here.” He didn’t want to put her down, certainly didn’t want to admit he needed to, but if he wasn’t sure if he was bothering his heart before he was now.
Rand would never ever forgive herself if something happened to Roman’s heart because he was worrying about her. She couldn’t be responsible again. It was like…like…it had happened before, but it wasn’t Roman, but her mind just would not pull the memory. Then she was really dizzy and her head pounded hard enough to make her think her brain was ozzing out her ears and her skull cracking open. She bit the inside of her lip to try and not stumble around like she was drunk. To hide it, so he wouldn’t pick her up again. She was not successful and leaned heavily against his side as her legs tried to decide if they believed the floor or her head about it not moving. She tried for English, “No sickbay,” but it was too hard to figure out, concentrating making her head convince her stomach she was on a boat in a hurricane. “Thèid mi dhan leabaidh, a gheallaidh. (I’ll go to bed, promise.)”
“Miranda, you look like you have five cups of Scottish Coffee with the whisky.” Roman said, looking as though he was already contemplating whether the risk of lifting her again was worth it or not. It was a bad idea, his chest was already hurting, but he refused to put an arm over it, it would warn Rand how he was feeling. But Roman and thinking he couldn’t do something was a bad mix, he’d stubbornly feel the need to prove he could do it. “Elbbirt will just check and make sure you’re okay. That’s what you would want me to do, isn’t it? Just to be sure?” He, again with the double standards, did not plan on mentioning his own disobedience nor the consequences of his actions. He just wanted Rand’s head looked at.
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