Visiting Nurse
Posted on Thu Jan 23rd, 2020 @ 5:16pm by Lieutenant Gunnar Arnason & Consul Briya Valriya
2,604 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
Canary
Location: Valriya's Quarters
Timeline: MD 06
Gunnar stood outside the Advisor's door having returned, as promised, to check on her at the end of his shift. Technically a bit after the end, but working late had been par for the course since he arrived on Haumea, and he'd made a stop at a local cafe for some decent non-replicated soup. Based on his own experience, he expected that Valriya probably didn't have much of an appetite, but it would do her good to eat. Even if she weren't fighting the local flu, the woman was thin as a rail.
Inside the cabin, Briya Valriya was not in her bed, but had made what she felt was a reasonable effort to rest and minimize her expenditures of energy. It was however, quite impossible for Briya to remain entirely idle for any real length of time. Even in her sleep she routinely set the computer to record audio in case she should mumble something worth pursuing in the morning. Today though, she’d been quick to erase the latest recording, blushing at the admissions her subconscious mind had confessed aloud. The blush was not for the admission, but for the conscious recognition of those feelings; feelings that were only going to complicate things for the time being.
An alert sounded and she looked up to view a monitor depicting the other side of the door to her cabin. It wasn’t really a cabin in any traditional sense, but that’s what she’d taken to calling it. It was a stand alone building at any rate, even if it were comprised of one or two empty suites which would, in theory, eventually house additional members of the Diplomatic Corp. Briya quickly stepped in front of a mirror to make sure she was at least presentable. She was in warm pink pajamas, entirely unassuming and strait-laced. Yet somehow she did not feel comfortable wearing quite so much - it just was not her norm.
“Please come in,” Briya called out and hurriedly removed her glasses to hide them behind her back.
When the door opened, Gunnar stepped inside. He was glad to see that she seemed alert and had dressed - both good signs he hoped were evidence of the effectiveness of the new protocol, though given her earlier insistence on continuing to work, that appearance might be deceptive. "Hello, Ms. Valriya. You seem to be doing better," he said with a smile, and held up the container of soup. "Are you feeling well enough to eat something? I picked up a light soup on the way to check on you."
“House calls, bedside manner and you brought dinner?” Briya motioned towards a dining area with one hand. “I’m not all that hungry, Gunnar, but if you think it will aid my recovery, I’ll make the effort. But only if you’ll join me. May I count on your companionship to at least that extent?”
"Of course." It wasn't as though he had anything planned beyond catching up on the 'paperwork' he'd put off for most of the day, and one more excuse to avoid it wasn't unwelcome. Besides, patient care came first and if she still had little appetite despite at least 18 hours since her last meal, she might not be quite as far toward recovery as she appeared. Diplomats - after working at the embassy he really should be used to how well they could hide things by now...
He set the soup on the table and took out his medscanner. "I hope you won't mind if I perform a short check up before having a seat?"
“Don’t be silly; of course I want your medical pampering.” Briya took the opportunity to move in close to Gunnar, standing in front of him beside the table.
"Thank you, I..." Gunnar paused as she moved next to him, suddenly aware of her proximity ...and how long it had been since he'd been that close to someone in anything but a medical capacity...
She seemed to be completely at ease with their immediacy and continued where he’d left off. “I did ask you to stop by. And you are here in a purely professional capacity. Or have I happily underestimated your intentions?” There was a hopeful quality to Briya’s voice.
He cleared his throat, focusing on the medscanner. She was doing better, but still ill; a patient under his care. "I assure you my intentions are strictly honorable." He stepped slightly aside, loading a hypo. "This should help your appetite. You're improving, but need to take a couple more days to recover."
Briya immediately stepped in close again, unclasped a button on her pajama top and arched her neck, exposing the pale flesh to Gunnar’s equipment. “Not even this flu can suppress all of my appetites. You are the pinnacle of gentlemanliness, but behind my private doors, it is not always necessary. I hope you realize there’s room for more in life than honor. Sometimes a woman does want more.”
Gunnar hid a private smile, recalling T'Ango pushing him into cushions, her voice a growling purr; ’You don't even realize how honorable you are - and it's so freaking sexy!’ The Dosadi motto was 'Honor above all', but he'd still been rather surprised to find that it over rode even his shocking lack of fur, fangs and claws...
However that wasn't a thought he was going to share, especially right now. "I won't pretend to gentlemanliness," he said, checking the medscanner readings before applying the hypo with gentle care. "But I do make an effort to follow best practices, and professional standards, even when in private."
She straightened her top and motioned a hand toward the table. “Be it good news or bad, I would like to be sitting down when it is delivered. And you are off duty so I would prefer you not to tower over me while I eat. May I insist?”
"Of course." He flashed a smile as he took the indicated seat. "I also try to make an effort not to 'tower'."
“Do not misunderstand me, Gunnar. There will be times when I practically need you to tower over me, but not while I’m eating. And not while I’m wearing this.” Briya sat down and spooned out the soup into two small bowls, intentionally filling hers only enough to cover the bottom and careful to place the bowl with the larger portion in front of Gunnar.
Gunnar eyed the disparity in the portions she'd doled out. He wasn't necessarily surprised that she'd only taken a little. Based on her readings, she wasn't quite well yet so it made sense to be cautious and take food in small doses (at least he hoped that she didn't normally keep herself on starvation rations to stay so thin). But he'd brought enough for two, and she had given him very nearly that much. "I brought the soup for you, and while I'm certainly glad to share a meal, I'm not a growing boy." His mouth turned in a wry grin. "I hope."
“Men have been known to grow in the company Risian Diplomats, even while dining on a simple soup. I certainly would take no offense to it. And what then is the verdict? Are you satisfied that I am healthy and well enough for rigorous physical activity? Or to traipse through the snow and return to work?”
Overlooking the innuendo, he began spooning half of his soup back into the container. "As to a verdict on your health, you are improving, but I'd advise putting off anything requiring that you traipse through snow, or even rain.” While Gunnar spoke, Briya nodded politely even while she put a lid on the unbowled portion of soup and placed it in the nearby replicator, hitting the reclamation button and smiling. Gunnar continued his prognosis. “I know you want to be ready to return to work," he said, not unsympathetically. "But based on lack of appetite alone, clearly you are not."
Briya sat back down and lowered her nose to the bowl, breathing in deeply. With this cold she had practically zero sense of smell. So she lied. “It smells delicious, Gunnar.” She lifted the spoon from the table, dipped it in the bowl and stirred the soup delicately. “I’m not hungry at present, because I ate a short while ago.” Technically that was true. It had been a few apple slices and on a cosmic scale, six hours ago was no time at all.
He lifted an eyebrow. "I did just run a medical scan on you. Based on your ketone levels, whatever you ate wasn't nearly enough." Dr. MacQuire might have made an acerbic comment about the foolishness of lying to the medic trying to make you well, but it wasn't Gunnar's style. He was more concerned with understanding the reason for her attempt at deflection. "Are you still nauseous? Or do you just not like the soup? You'd mentioned ordering soup when I came by before, but if you don't care for this type, I won't be offended."
“I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to diminish your efforts at providing nourishment.” Briya sighed and hoisted the barely laden spoon to her mouth. She took a sip and returned the spoon to her bowl. “It really is quite good… of you to bring this by, but I can taste nothing.”
"I'm sorry. Both taste and smell can remain diminished even sometime after the worst of the congestion has passed. I would have gotten something spicier, but I didn't want to risk upsetting your stomach."
“My mother has always asserted I have an iron stomach, yet eat like a cave salamander.” Briya gave Gunnar a quick smile. “They go for extended periods of time without eating. As a young girl I thought I looked more like an Olm and considered my eating to be quite normal, but then I started meeting the guests at my mother’s resort. Well, it was still my mother’s at that time. Starfleet certainly believes in feeding it’s people often and well. And they eat twice as frequently while on vacation. I was more interested in boys and the beach than the copious cuisine, but I ate, Gunnar. I eat.” Then she had a thought which seemed to cheer her up. Leaning forward and clapping her hands together, “Perhaps you would take a sip and tell me what you taste. I will watch you eat, without towering.”
"It would be a new experience to have someone else tower," he remarked with a soft chuckle, somewhat reassured that she didn't have an eating disorder, though in his opinion (which admittedly was influenced by his own cultural biases) she was overly thin. "But if it'll entice you to eat more, I'll oblige." So saying, he bent over the bowl to take a spoonful, holding it to his mouth, almost as if it were a fine bourbon, before swallowing. It wasn't how he'd normally eat, but it gave him an extra moment to consider how to describe it. "The broth is light, but savory, with a hint of lemony tang and something else... I wouldn't be surprised if the chef added a touch of white wine since it's based on recipe from earth's Mediterranean region. The rice adds body, but not too much starch - you can easily taste the fresh spinach and other vegetables."
It really was very good, and he made a mental note to thank Abrams for suggesting he try it. "I'm a nurse, not a food critic, so I'm probably not doing it justice. Perhaps you could try a bit more? I'd much prefer company for eating."
Briya gave him a sideways look as if to say she knew she were being tricked, but would comply nonetheless. She stirred the bowl and lifted another spoonful to her mouth. Knowing she could smell nothing, she skipped that step all together and sipped the broth. She considered the taste then shrugged as if some illusive thought would come to her in it’s own time. “Earth’s Mediterranean has some of the few beaches that come close to compare with the Risian. It’s a wonder the Federation hasn’t adopted our methods and chosen to geo-form every planet it comes upon. Had it, you and I may be having this conversation under entirely different circumstances. No snow, just sand beneath our feet.”
"Geo-forming has it place," he replied neutrally. The idea of geo-forming over the natural ecosystems they'd only just begun to study and explore here was abhorrent to him, but he understood why she might find it an appealing fantasy right now. "Besides, I know it's a minority opinion, but I like snow. And snow and sand aren't mutually exclusive - my homeland is an island and has both. In fact, we've been known to enjoy the beaches even in mid-winter."
“The beach mid-winter...” Briya literally shuddered at the thought. “To each their own, I suppose.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth and spooned up another sip. “Despite the cold, I imagine you strike quite the figure in a swimsuit, Gunnar.”
"Perhaps not striking in the way you mean," he laughed, thinking of Shanika jokingly holding a hand up to shield her eyes from 'all that glaring white' when they'd first visited the beach near the Academy. "I don't tan so readily."
“Nor do I. Some of us just don’t have the skin for it. I’m forty-five years old with a face that defies senescence, but my skin will not take a tan if the quadrant depended on it.” Briya gave her dinner partner one of her coy smiles and asked, “And what do you imagine when you look at me, Sir?”
Gunnar took another spoonful of soup, considering her question. Honestly, he'd been trying not to imagine her in any way other than as a patient, but it seemed unlikely that she'd let him get away with that answer. "What I'm trying to imagine is how you will look healthy," his lips twitched in a small teasing smile, "and trying every pastry at the cafe downtown."
Without hesitation, Briya Valriya extended her hand, the sleeve of her pink pajamas running up her arm to expose a bony wrist. “It is a deal.”
"Deal," Gunnar agreed with a smile, hardly believing that had worked, and shook the offered hand.
“It is enough, for now, that you are imagining me at all. I will do what I can to make such efforts as easy and enjoyable as possible in the future - while trying a sampling of your favorite pastries. Who knew recovery and planning for the future could be so exciting? Computer, add a date with Lieutenant Gunnar Arnason to my calendar.”
Gunnar blinked, momentarily blindsided. A date... No, she must mean it in the sense of an appointment.
“Please specify time and location,” came the recognizable voice that every Federation computer seemed to embody.
“Time and location will be determined by Gunnar Arnason. Please send him a weekly reminder.” Briya gave Gunnar an undisguised wink then took another spoonful of soup to her mouth without breaking eye contact. “Is that dill I taste? I must be on the mend.”
...or not just an appointment. How did he get himself into these situations? Gunnar shook his head, laughing helplessly. At least she was eating.
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