When You Fall
Posted on Sun Dec 15th, 2019 @ 7:07pm by Lieutenant Gunnar Arnason
Edited on on Sun Dec 15th, 2019 @ 7:20pm
984 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
What Lies Ahead, Between, and Behind
Location: Hospital
Timeline: sometime between Deep Freeze and Snowbirds
"Two are better than one... For if the fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him who is alone when he falls; for he hath not another to help him..."
-Ecclesiastes
Dr. MacQuire paused in making his rounds. He leaned for a moment against a window frame, looking out at the world beyond, or what could be seen of it through the frosted pane.
Ice. Snow. More Snow.
Not exactly what had been advertised in the brochure, he thought bitterly. Even when he'd arrived a few months ago - before the place decided to imitate Delta Vega - it had been a bit cooler than expected. It wasn't like he'd expected a tropical paradise. God knew Europa, despite a virtual jungle of hydroponics, was anything but tropical. And the temperature on the various merchant ships he'd served was whatever came out cheapest in the compromise between efficiency and keeping the crew from mutiny. Besides, if there was one thing he'd learned from a short stint on Vulcan, it was that the last thing he wanted least in a planetary climate was too hot.
Still, when he'd decided to look for a colony to settle on, the things he'd looked for were (1) a place far enough off that it wouldn't get crowded, and (2) a spot resembling a valley on earth he'd fallen in love with, but couldn't have afforded for retirement even if he'd sold everything up to and including most of his major organs. What he hadn't looked for was was bitterly cold and buried in SNOW.
"Are you all right, Doctor?"
MacQuire half turned his head, shooting a baleful glare - half at the question and half just out of pure annoyance at the giant golden retriever in human form that Starfleet had seen fit to inflict on him. He frowned to himself - the thought wasn't fair. Honestly, the kid was a pretty good medic, and contrary to what the chaplain seemed to think, he didn't resent having an NP put in charge - it was a bit outside of the natural order, but Arnason was properly respectful of doctors when it came to actual medical decisions. No, he was vexed was because the man had been bird-dogging him, hovering solicitously as if he expected him to keel over any minute.
"I'm fine. A man's allowed a pause to look out the window, isn't he?" MacQuire grumbled irritably.
"Of course," Gunnar replied in a conciliatory tone. He followed the doctor's gaze, taking in the view of the snow glittering in the late afternoon sun. "It is quite beautiful."
That earned a different glare, but sadly, the eloquence of the expression was wasted since Arnason was gazing out the window - at nothing but mounds of snow! - with a wistful smile. Probably pining for the fjords MacQuire tried to swallowed the laugh at the mental image of the blue uniformed Scandanavian as an oversized Norwegian Blue and started coughing.
"Doctor..."
"Back off," Macquire snapped, sensing the NP taking a step closer. "You wanna catch someone, go find Emily. I'm sure she'd gladly collapse in your arms again."
Gunnar contained a sigh, and straightened, glancing briefly upward as if for strength. "Ms. Hutchinson collasped because she was extremely ill," he looked pointedly at the doctor, "having continued to push herself to work long beyond when -"
"I'm tired, not sick!" MacQuire cut him off angrily, offended at the implication, and spun to face him, shaking a finger. "I'm a doctor, I know when..."
The retort trailed off as his vision blurred, and everything went black.
"Yes, Doctor," Gunnar remarked dryly, as he stepped in to catch the physician before he hit the floor. Flushed cheeks, sunken eyes, cough, sweating... the symptoms had all been there, but doctors were always the worst patients...
Three weeks later
"Arnason, sit!"
Gunnar did not sit, nor even low his pace. He liked dogs - a lot - but he was not about to obey that sort of command like one.
MacQuire huffed a breath and cut across the aisle to plant himself like a wall, or at least a speed bump since Arnason had a good half foot and several kilos on him. "Dammit, kid, sit down or you're gonna fall down."
The NP came to a halt, and looked down at the man blocking his path. Barely two days since MacQuire had been discharged from patient to doctor, and he was already back to his pushy ornery self. However, he was a doctor, and a pretty good one, as well as being a colonist, so Gunnar resisted the urge to just brush past him. Besides, if he was honest with himself, he really was running on fumes. Not that he was going to give in sit. "I appreciate your concern, Doctor, but I promise, you won't have to catch me."
"Uh-huh." MacQuire crossed his arms, looking up at him skeptically. "Look, I know that despite the MD I don't technically have any authority over you here, but you might bother to listen. I mean, take a look at yourself. You've got dark circles under your eyes, flushed cheeks, and you're sweating."
"I haven't been sleeping well, and it's ...warm in here."
MacQuire pursed his lips. "Maybe you're vision's blurry too, or you'd know I'm wearing a sweater under this lab coat."
"It's warm for me," Gunnar corrected, not bothering to repeat that he didn't find outside all that cold, because that was just opened one avenue for the doctor's squabbling. "In any case, I have rounds to finish." He side-stepped quickly to go around, "I'll take a break when..."
The doctor saw his eyes roll up and ducked under an arm, guiding the tall Starfleeter to a nearby bed before he went completely limp. "You'll take that break now, kid."
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