More than a crick

Posted on Fri Sep 28th, 2018 @ 2:15am by Lieutenant Commander Angus Murphy & Lieutenant Sandra Adamson

Mission: Run Afoul
Location: Murphy's quarters/sickbay
Timeline: MD1, 0800 hours
1495 words - 3 OF Standard Post Measure

Slowly, Patrick stirred and became awake. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn't exactly comfortable, finding himself pressed into the corner of the couch. The second thing he noticed, as he shifted, was the weight that lay against him, preventing him from moving much.

As he woke up fully, he smiled as he recognized the warm object as the body of the chief engineer resting comfortably against his own. Casually, he caressed the man's cheek. "Murph," he whispered, "wake up..."

"I'm not really asleep," Murphy replied back quietly, opening his eyes and looking over at Pat in the dim light of the darkened quarters. "Good morning. Was I squishing you?" he asked as he sat upright and stretched his arms upward. "You looked comfortable so I was trying not to move."

"A little," Patrick admitted, sitting up as well. "How do you feel?" He reached, drawing him back into his arms, wincing a little as his back seemed to lock up on him.

"I feel alright," Murphy said in an unconvincing tone as he lifted his t-shirt to look at the patch of skin on his stomach that Pat had fixed up for him. It was red, slightly swollen, and warm when he pressed his fingers against it. He put the shirt back down. "Are you ok, old man?" He asked lightly with a smirk.

"Old man huh," Pat chuckled, "come we should get you to sickbay, that doesn't look alright at all." He shifted, then stood a little unsteadily for a moment, trying to keep his balance. "Burns are bad...I should have taken you to sickbay last night... it's no ordinary burn after all.

---

"It's a fairly ordinary burn," Murphy explained to Doctor Adamson as he lifted his shirt. He was sitting on the edge of a biobed in the ship's main sickbay. "It looked fine. It was healing great last night." He looked over at Pat, met his eyes and shrugged. "It doesn't hurt... much."

Patrick just sighed and shook his head. Though he clearly didn't agree with that assessment, he said nothing and just waited for the doctor to speak.

Sandy looked at the burn intently and then said, "It's big and red, and swollen..." She took out her tricorder and scanned the wound. "So what exactly happened?" She looked her scanning result before getting out a dermal regenerator.

"Phaser burn," Murphy answered succinctly.

Still saying nothing, Patrick nodded in confirmation. Part of him felt guilty for what happened, and part of him was wondering what to do now.

"I am wondering though, how and when did it happen? Please explain while I fix this." She said as she moved the dermal regenerator over the skin. "Every detail is important. I may have to report this to security as well." She explained.

"It's kind of a nuanced situation that I'm going to address in a report, myself," Murphy said, "though, essentially, I was hit by phaser fire. By a hologram. In my quarters. Everything is fine, though. Pat patched me up."

"It wanted to shoot me," Patrick reminded him, "then shot you instead... the burn was quite bad and apparently I didn't patch you up right..." he looked remorseful, wishing he had done a better job. "I'm sorry."

"Pat patched you up?" She turned to Pat. "Are you a nurse or a doctor? The wound didn't look that good. It could've been worse, but still, if this happens again, please come to me immediately. Or my colleagues, this is why we are here, to heal." She looked to the generated skin. "There, all better." She then looked to Murphy. "I will make a report as well. A medical report."

"No ma'am, I'm not a nurse or doctor, I'm just a simple chef," Patrick replied, looking down at his feet. He felt like a boy being rebuked but of course, she was right. He should've insisted on coming to sickbay. "Thank you for healing him."

"Fantastic, thank you, Doctor," Murphy slid his shirt back down and gave Patrick a pat on the shoulder as he stood from the bed. "It's not his fault. I was too stubborn to take his advice to come in. But it's all good, I have learned my lesson. No harm, no foul, right?"

"As long as you have learned your lesson, Lieutenant. You know I don't bite, so please bring your injuries and ailments to me," Sandy said. She then looked to Patrick. "I don't believe we have met, I am Doctor Sandra Adamson, doctor or Sandy will do." She smiled. "If you have time, I can do your mandatory physical exam now." She offered.

"Patrick O'Malley," Patrick added, feeling cornered, "resident chef." He paused, looking from Sandy to Murph and back to Sandy. "M-mandatory?" He bit his lower lip; of all the things, he hadn't quite expected this.

"Oh don't worry, everyone on the ship has to do it upon boarding, and then every 6 months. Don't worry, it's pretty routine. Did you file your medical file with starfleet medical before you boarded?" She took a tricorder and began to scan him. "Don't worry, this won't hurt." She said smiling friendly.

Reaching for Murph's hand, needing the reassurance, Patrick squeezed it tightly. "N-no," he managed. "I'm not Starfleet..." Though he was sure there were records, he had spent some time in sickbay while on the Nimitz after all. After he'd been tortured by those terrorists, who had mistaken him for someone important.

"Wow, you're really freaked out," Murph commented lightly, placing his other hand on top of Pat's. "Hey, it's all good, Pat. You want me to stay?"

Nodding, Patrick gave his best effort to relax his grip. "Don't leave me here..." He was scared, he hadn't planned on this. Wasn't prepared for this. He had come to support his friend, and now it was he who needed support. "Please make it quick," he begged of the doctor.


She closed her tricorder. "All done, Patrick, but I do need your medical file. I will see if starfleet has send it to me." She walked to her computer and looked trough it. She nodded. She then walked back to the two. "Patrick are you afraid of sickbays and medical facilities?" She made a note. "As long as there is no medical need for a large scale scan, the routine physical exams require only a tricorder scan, I can do it in your quarters if you feel more comfortable there. I will schedule your next physical for you now."

Slowly, the younger Human nodded. "Medical facilities," he whispered, feeling utterly foolish. "I-I have my reasons..." A sickbay was also the place where he'd seen his husband last, lying lifelessly on the bed, covered in blood. Of course he had been dead for some time by the time he'd been allowed to see him. To him, sickbay was a place of death, not healing.

Sandy nodded, "It's ok, Patrick, but I would suggest you talk to the ship counselor about this. And like I said, if it's not life threatening or medically advised, I can come to you with a medkit and tricorder to you. But if it is, there are calming sedatives I can give you. I will note this in your medical file, so my colleagues are aware of your situation as well. But I will be your main doctor and I will do your physicals. And you can always ask for me. I promise."

Murphy just stood by for moral support, but nodded to the doctor and her offer. "It could be worse," he said lightly to Pat to get him to smile, hopefully, "You could always get a physical from a homicidal hologram."

"Not funny," Patrick whispered, but nodded in consent. "I'll talk to her...eventually. Am I good to go now?" He really wanted to leave now. Supporting a friend was one thing, being a patient quite unexpectedly was something else entirely. "Can we go home?"

"Well I can't for you to do anything," said Sandy, "And yes, you have a clean bill of health. You may go."

"Thank you doctor." Patrick squeezed the hand he still held. "Shall we go?" he asked Murph, "I did promise you breakfast..."

"Did you? What did you have in mind?" Murphy asked Pat.

"Your usual," Patrick offered, "come with me. We'll go to the mess and I'll make you breakfast. I have fresh eggs as someone apparently brought chickens on board." He gently yet somewhat urgently tugged him along. He cast the doctor an apologetic smile. "Thanks doc," he said at last.

Sandy just smiled back at the two.

Murphy left with Pat. He gave a the doc a wave before they disappeared out into the hallway. "Someone bought chickens on board, really? I hope that person is planning to clean up after them..."


-----------------

Lieutenant Murphy
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Majestic

Lieutenant Junior Grade Sandra Adamson
Chief Medical officer

Patrick O'Malley
Chef
pnpc Lhaes