Short Term Care Ward
All is quiet here, save for the occasional moan alerting a nurse more pain medication is needed. Impeccably clean, the ward stretches for quite a ways from the door. The nurses' desk, always manned, is tucked to one side inside the door, facing the corridor. Opposite that is the large cabinet holding medicine and supplies. Half a dozen beds line each side of the ward, separated by temporary partitions.
Contents:
Clara
Greer
Clara walks into the ward, stopping at the nurse's desk for a quiet greeting, then makes her way through checking various charts and greeting patients. Finally she gets to a certain bed and peeks in the curtain tentatively with a smile. "Anyone awake?" she stagewhispers.
Tara looks up with a grin from the 'reader on her lap- she's seated in a chair beside Greer's bed. "Everybody awake," she confirms. Greer perks up- she doesn't have a 'reader, and she's bored. "Doctor Ice Cream!"
Clara can't help but laugh, coming the rest of the way into the area and leaning against the footboard on the bed. "Doctor Aleron, dear, not ice cream. I'm afraid I don't actually have any more ice cream in my office, but I do have a few cupcakes in my apartment. Have either of you had dinner yet?"'
Tara blushes a bit. "Ah, no. I haven't, that is." "But I did," Greer pipes up. "They let me have jello! /Green/ jello!"
"Oh, dear. Yes, green jello...the essential food of hospitals everywhere," Clara agrees with a slight wince and an apologetic smile. "I tell you what. I've not eaten yet either, so what if I run out to the pavilion for gyros and iced tea, and we can all have that for dinner? And maybe I'll steal a cupcake or two from my roommate."
Tara arches an eyebrow in amusement. "Said roommate won't mind, will he? Right now though, I must admit, gyros sound surprisingly good."
Greer gives both women a curious look. "What's a gyro?"
Tara snickers and shakes her head. "Evil stuff with... onions!" Mother and daughter both shudder.
Clara makes a noise of amused exasperation, throwing up her hands. "Well, goodness, I can easily enough ask them to hold the onions. That's no problem at all. As for the other..." She holds up a hand briefly, then taps at her comm.
Clara says "Hey, sailor, got a minute? Can I steal some of your cupcakes out of the fridge? I've got a patient in the underage realm who deserves the really good chocolate stuff." into her communit.
Clara's communit crackles to life and announces "... sounds... "Feel free.... fudge too." in Riley's voice.
Greer perks up. "Fudge?" She heard that word, definitely. Tara snickers, nodding to the doctor. "No onions is a goodness."
Clara says "Yeah? You, my dear, are an utter wonder. If it's Niles fudge, I'll nominate you for sainthood. Want me to grab you a gyros while I'm out? I'm getting some for the same patient. She's been incredibly brave." into her communit.
Clara grins and waggles her brows between comments into her comm. "That's what he says. If it's what I think it is, it's heaven in chocolate form."
Greer doesn't /quite/ drool, thanks to massive willpower. "I wanna get operated on more often," she declares.
Tara chuckles softly. "I'll get ya chocolate without any need for operations, kiddo."
Clara's communit crackles to life and announces "... fudge,... as... as... the... So there're options.... food's good,... worrying... set." in Riley's voice.
Clara says "Gotcha. Saint Riley. So be it. Okay, I'll at least have one sent up to the warmer at home. You can snag it when you get home tonight. Thanks, love. Aleron out." into her communit.
Clara shakes her head with extreme fondness and just a hint of over sugar-laden sigh. "He got extra chocolate. Okay, gyros sans onions, and fudge. Any other requests? Might take me about fifteen minutes to round this all up. Greer, want a reader and some books? Or some puzzles?"
Clara's communit crackles to life and blares "... already...dang, she left. *click*" in Riley's voice.
Oh, sure, /tempt/ the child. Greer puts on a pitiful look, despite the dancing in her eyes. "All of the above?"@emit Tara grins. "Actually, Clara, though the kiddo here likes tea, I never did, to my parents' horror. Blue can, maybe? If it's not too much trouble?"
Clara repeats the list noiselessly to herself, then grins. "Got it. Be back in a flash," she assures, then ambles out to run errands. Honest, she is.
Tara chuckles, turning to get Greer propped up with several pillows in preparation to eating.
Time passes, and for once, no bonking occurs...
***** Editor's note- it's a long story. ;) *****
Clara returns perhaps twenty minutes later, not only with a few paper bags of food, a drink carrier, and a duffel slung over her back which is now wearing civilian clothing. "Here we are! Three gyros, sans onions, two iced teas, one heathen soda, fudge, cupcakes, and books and puzzles galore," she explains, settling the various items onto a rolling tray table.
Tara's eyebrows rise at the change of clothes as she reaches automatically to help serve. "Off duty?" she inquires.
Greer leans forward, eagerly reaching for both the cupcakes and the fudge, and her mother laughs, whisking those items out of her reach. "Uh uh. Real food first, kiddo. Greek qualifies as that."
Clara nods with excessive relief, dragging a chair over towards the side of the bed and subsequently the table to start liberating wrapped gyros from the bag and pass them out. "Entirely, utterly off duty. And your mother's right, implet. Gotta eat the real food first. How's your head feeling?"
"What's a implet?" Greer asks this through a mouthful of gyro. "Fine." She swallows, and tries again. "Feels fine. Just a little fuzzy now."
Tara sniffs at her own gyro before taking a cautious bit, her eyebrows rising in surprise. "Hey... these ain't bad!"
"An imp is like a mischievous little elf," Clara explains, unwrapping her own sandwich and taking a bit. "An implet is probably a lot cuter, and I just like the word," she admits with a grin. "Fuzzy's not bad, actually. Your speech is nicely clear. I know," she adds to Tara with a grin. "I live on these things about half the time."
Tara snickers. "A nice change from pizza?" she winks, popping her can open.
"Elves," Greer declares, "Ain't real. They're in books. But they got neat ears. Could you make my ears pointed?" She grins. "I'm cute. It suits."
"Oh, I like pizza too, don't mistake me on that," Clara notes with a wry grin, catching at a drop of tziziki trying to escape the sandwich. "And yes, I could make your ears pointed, but I won't because it's unethical," she adds with a grin at Greer. "And you are cute. It does suit."
Greer cocks her head curiously. "What's unnnnnethical?" She beams at the compliment. "You're cute too. But you need a new hairdo. You need ribbons, like me." The child's question makes Tara's eyes flicker between her and Clara, but she keeps quiet, eating very hungrily.
"It means it simply isn't the right thing to do," Clara explains, reaching for her tea, then all but beaming at the child. "Why thank you, dear, but I'm afraid this hairdo is here to stay. I look -odd- with straight hair, and I have to wear it up because of military regulations. Or I could cut it short, but then I look like a dustmop."
Greer repeats the definition to herself to remember better later, and giggles. "You aren't ever going to get a boyfriend looking like a dustmop. Guess we're stuck with that one." Tara snickers softly, her eyes twinkling. "You're doomed, Clara."
Clara shakes her head in amused mournfulness, trying not to laugh as she takes another bite of her gyros. "I'm utterly doomed, indeed. Banished to a life of being an old maid. That's all right, though. Getting married isn't exactly an option for me anyway."
"Why not?" This from Greer, of course. "You need a boyfriend, at least. Everybody needs a boyfriend." The child casts a sly look toward her mother, who reaches out to tweak the button nose. "Not everybody, kiddo."
"Well, why not is because I happen to know a certain fellow who would be rather upset if I went and found myself a boyfriend," Clara notes with a wink, crinkling the foil wrapping of her now-gone sandwich into a ball. "But no, not everyone needs a boyfriend. Everyone just needs friends."
Tara is trying -so- hard not to laugh, and not to choke on her food in the process. Washing a mouthful down with a lash of cola, she manages, "He doesn't seem the sharing type, no."
Greer shrugs cheerfully. "Big brother, huh?" she notes sagely. "Oh well." That last gets Clara an odd look.
Clara drops the ball of foil back into one of the paper sacks, not even trying not to laugh. "Nope, sorry. I don't have any brothers or sisters that I'm aware of. I'm the only child my mother produced." She wrinkles her nose in a grin at Tara, shaking her head once. "Sharing isn't his strong point, no."
Greer gives Clara a confused look, but shrugs it off, eyeing the fudge and cupcakes. That's more important to her six-year-old self than figuring out the doctor's family tree. Tara chuckles softly, finishing off her own gyro, and reaches for the foil from Greer's as the child finishes as well.
Clara is a sap about kids, this is well known. Poor Riley will probably have to talk down her biological clock again tonight. She liberates a cupcake from the paper bag the chocolate is in and offers it over before snagging another two, one for Tara, one for herself. She chuckles, shaking her head. "Remember that fellow I was talking to on the comm?"
Tara doesn't appear much less eager than her daughter as she grins, biting into the treat. Greer nods vaguely, lovingly peeling the paper wrapping from her cupcake. "The one who gave you the cupcakes and the Niles fudge? What's Niles fudge anyhow? Comes from Egypt on Earth?"
"The one that gave me the cupcakes and Niles' fudge, yes," Clara agrees with a grin, taking a quick bite of her own cupcake before continueing. "Niles is my family's butler. He's a -wonderful- person, who helped raise me. And he makes fantastic fudge. Niles doesn't live in Egypt, though. He lives in Jamaica, where I'm from. And that fellow on the comm is my lifemate," she adds casually.
Greer's eyes widen. "You have a -butler-? I thought those were only in mystery stories. Oh! So you're really from Earth? I never met an Earther before." A bite of cupcake goes down the hatch. "Lifemate?"
Tara snickers, dusting crumbs from her hands. "Might as well haul out the whole Code now, Clara."
Clara waggles her brows at the girl before acking lightly at Tara. "Are you kidding? I couldn't even pick up two of the books of it at once. And yes, dear," she adds back to Greer. "I'm from Earth, and my family has a butler, although he's really more part of the family. And a lifemate, or 'a'trezla' in Kashidian, is something like a husband, but we're not married. Just mated for life."
"Oh, that's good enough then." Greer nods in supreme satisfaction. "A'trezla. That's pretty. It almost sounds like a name. Can I have the fudge now?" she pleads, showing her empty hands, then she looks toward Tara. "What was it you said to say?"
"Thank you," Tara murmurs. "The phrase is 'thank you'."
Greer nods at that, turning back to Clara. "Thank you for the Niles fudge, and the cupcake, and please tell your a'trezla thank you too?"
"Isn't it pretty? Kashidian is a -gorgeous- language, based on Edrilac. Very pretty. I'm trying to learn it," Clara adds affably while freeing a small tin of fudge and opening it to set within easy reach of all. "Help yourself, dear, and I'll certainly tell him. He'll be pleased."
Mother and daughter reach for fudge in unison. Greer hesitates just slightly before taking the biggest piece, setting to eager chomping. "Oooooh. Niles makes good fudge! I want a butler!"
Tara chuckles softly, eating her own fudge at a somewhat more leisurely rate. "He'll be surprised too, I'll bet."
"Doesn't he? I adore Niles, even if he has an odd sense of humor. And trust me, dear, you -don't- want a butler," Clara notes with vast amusement. "They're expensive, and they spank when you get in trouble."
Greer blinks. "I take it back. You're right. I don't want a butler. Spanking sounds like a bad thing." Tara blinks too. "A servant who spanks the kids? Excuse me, kid, singular. Sounds like he's more than just a buttler."
Clara shrugs, not particularly bothered, nor does her contented smile fade as she starts in on a second cupcake. "Niles helped Mother raise me. He's the closest thing I have to a father, is all," she explains affably. "But he's an amazing man, and he's always been there for me. He likes Riley, too."
Greer gives Clara a startled look, starting to eat slower. "I don't have a father either. But it's not that bad," she adds hastily, glancing toward her mother. "I got Tara." There's a pause, partially accounted for by cupcake consumption. "Riley? Tara knows a Riley." The aforementioned mom smiles slightly, giving Clara a quick look of reassurance.
"It's more than likely the same Riley," Clara notes after a nod in return at Tara in understanding. "The Chief of Security here at the Complex?"
Tara nods a confirmation. Greer puts a whole bunch of two's together. "Your a'trezla is Captain Riley Gregor Addison?" She looks over at Tara. "You never said he was here." Ze mom chuckles quietly. "I had other things on my mind."
Clara leans back in her seat, lifting her brows in a faint smile as she manages another bite of cupcake. "Not exactly. My a'trezla is -Admiral- Riley Gregor Addison, but yes, it's the same person," Clara acknowledges with a quick grin at Tara.
"He was promoted then," Greer deduces with a faint expression of surprise. She gives the fudge a longing look, but her little stomach can't hold any more, and she sits back into the pillows.
Tara nods another confirmation, sipping slowly on her soda. "Not particularly surprising, in hindsight."
Clara leans over to close the tin and return it to it's sack to prevent temptation of a very full little tummy, and smiles, shaking her head. "I imagine he was. He was already a full Admiral by the time I met him. I was only a Captain at the time, although an Infantry Captain ranks far lower than a Navy Captain."
Greer nods, her fingers twitching toward the 'reader and puzzles. "Navy's better, you know." Yep, she's her mother's daughter. Tara beams proudly, though she gives Clara an apologetic look.
Clara leans down to snag the duffel with an understanding smile back at Tara, carefully unlacing it and pulling out first a reader, then an entire boite of discbooks. "I didn't know what you liked to read, so I got a fair mix. There's some Terran classics, like The Princess Bride and Robinson Carusoe, all the way up through Edreeni science fiction."
Greer perks up at that last. "Edreeni science fiction, please. And the others too, but I'll read that first. You ever seen an Edreeni? I saw one, when we were feeding the ducks. They're very, very tall."
"They're very tall, indeed," Clara agrees easily, also tugging a few discs with puzzled that can be worked through with the stylus on the reader. "Riley's sister is a dear friend of mine, and she's Edreeni. And the lady who hired me here is also Edreeni."
Greer's eyes widen. "You know lots of Edreeni, don't you? I never knew Captain... I mean, Admiral Riley Gregor Addison had a sister though. Did you know that, Tara?" The pilot shakes her head slightly. "Not til I came here. Corian's her name. Corian Czolgosz now. Very pretty lady. You'd like her, Greer. She's got this touch when it comes to kids."
Clara can't help but smile at the girl's surprise. "I know lots of folk from all different species, actually," Clara explains patiently. "My specialty is actually xenobiology, the study of aliens. Which for me would be anyone who isn't human. And Corian's a wonderful person...although I'm not quite sure she's on-planet at the moment."
Tara glances toward Clara, half in disappointment, half in pleased surprise. "She and Tarrant were able to get away for a little vacation then? True, I haven't seen her in a while." Greer lights on the puzzles with delight, busying herself with those.
"Oh, I don't know for -sure-," Clara amends with a soft laugh, watching the child with the puzzles with a faintly wistful smile. "They may be working, or they may be here, even. I just haven't seen either of them in a week or so. You've met Tarrant, then?"
Tara mhmmms, smiling wryly as she slowly drinks her soda. "At the costume ball. We had a nice little debate about... insanity, if I remember correctly. Or it might've been stupidity. Something involving brains."
Clara rolls her eyes in decided amusement, reclaiming her own tea and crossing her legs comfortably. "Insanity would be my guess. That -man-," she mutters in mock frustration that's obviously fond, shaking her head. "He's got a perfectly good brain. Very bright man, very sane."
Tara mhmmms. "I wouldn't mind meeting up with him again, even if he is a government type. He's a cut above the rest of them. He must be, obviously, if Corian married him."
Clara dips her head slightly, lips quirking in a faint smile. "Government type, yes. He's good at what he does, though, and so is Corian. And she adores him," she adds with another fond smile. "I was thrilled to find they'd gotten married."
Tara chuckles. "Seems like everybody's getting hitched. Or, at least, shacking up. Bloody, all my contemporaries are settling down... I'm starting to feel old."
"If it's any consolation," Clara offers with a quiet, sympathetic laugh, "it doesn't look as if Riley and I will be marrying any time soon. Shacking up is nice, though, I'll have to admit it. You're not old, Tara, not by a long shot. What, thirty?"
Tara smiles wryly. "Thirty-one actually." "Not for long," Greer murmurs without looking up from her puzzle. Tara snickers. "You hush." She shrugs easily. "Ah, my luck with men is not the best. Niko's about the best prospect I had in a long time, and, well, you know how that ended up."
"Niko? Ah, Tara, let me save you some worry. Family is -all- important to Niko," Clara explains with a sympathetic smile. "He wanted a wife and children and a normal homelife. Ela can give him that, -and- she speaks Hellenic. And she cooks," she adds with a wry smile. "And you're still young, for goodness sake. I'm not far behind you." Does she notice the 'not for long'? Maybe.
Tara's mouth quirks. "Okay, so I don't speak Hellenic..." She chuckles. "You've got him though. A lifemate. Somebody to come home to at night. That can be very... nice, for lack of a better word."
Clara leans forward to settle her tea on the table, then back again to pull one heel up to the edge of the chair and wrap her arms about that knee thoughtfully. "I do, yes, and I wouldn't change it for all the world. But I'll tell you right now neither of us wanted it. We fought the idea, and hard."
Tara blinks. "Are you nuts! Why fight it?"
Clara unlaces her hands to count off the reasons. "One, neither of us wanted a relationship. It's easier to be alone, less chance of being hurt. Two, I was dating Niko. Three, -vastly- different cultures. Four...he's my commanding officer." On that last, she looks up somewhat helplessly.
Tara grimaces, nodding sympathetically at that last one. "Yeah, that one bites." She cocks her head, asking quietly, "And now? Are you glad you lost the battle?"
Clara leans back a bit further, tilting her head back to peer up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "It bites hard," she agrees quietly. "Sometimes. And others, I couldn't ask for a better CO, not ever. He's -good-," he explains, presumably discussing Riley professionally, since she's not frighteningly red. "But am I glad? Oh, -yes-."
Tara laughs quietly, kindly not uttering the dozen puns on the 'good' comment that come to mind. "Thought so. See? It's not like you're bad off. Neither am I, really, I know that. It's just nice having somebody special to curl up with as opposed to a one-night stand, know what I mean?"
"I'll have to say I agree?" Clara offers with a decidedly sheepish smile, flickering a glance at Greer as if checking to see if she's asleep. "I've never had a one-night," she explains, ducking her head and looking terribly sheepish. "But no, I'm not bad off. But the point was, love found me, like a ton of bricks on the head. I didn't find it. It happens in its own time."
Greer isn't /quite/ asleep, though she's getting there quickly. But all her delighted attention is absorbed by the puzzles. "Ahhhh," says Tara quietly. "Do you suppose it's possible for it to happen to a person more than once?"
Clara merely nods, smile warming defintely. "Oh, yes. I very much believe that. In this whole galaxy, there's only one person who we can bond to? I can't accept that. They may be hard to find, but not that hard. I do know people who have found it twice, though."
Tara grins wryly. "But third time'd be pushing it, eh? Well, I've still got another chance." She reaches out to gently remove the electronic's from her sleeping daughter's hands, setting them on the bedside stand. "Although I can definitely relate to the 'not wanting to be hurt' thing. Still, the positives might outweigh the negatives."
"Would it be? I don't know that anyone has a limit, Tara. I know of bondings that are tri-bonds, not pair bonds. I think it just happens when it happens," Clara decides musingly before giving the child another look that clearly says 'awwww'. "She's so precious, Tara. You're fortunate."
Tara's eyebrows rise. "Threesomes? That'd be... entertaining." Her eyes soften as she looks over at Greer. "She's a lot precious-er now, thanks to you."
"Mm-hmm...doesn't work often, but I've heard of it," Clara explains somewhat absently, still watching Greer with a fond smile before shaking her head lightly. "Ah-ah, Tara. None of that. I just helped her to be what she's supposed to be. You're the one who gave birth to her."
Tara chuckles wryly. "Which, in and of itself... well, I suppose it'd be difficult for her to be here without that." She reaches out to stroke the child's hair gently. "How much longer do you suppose she'll be recuperating here? I've got to figure out if I'm going to take her back or keep her here."
"How long? Another six days," Clara offers, not moving from her seat but watching the seen with definite approval and just the faintest hint of wistfulness. "As to what you do, why don't you ask her what she wants in a few days? When I can reduce the pain medication."
Tara arches an eyebrow, glancing up. Catching the wistfulness, she returns her hand to her knee where she laces her fingers together. "I, uh, didn't think of that." She snickers. "My brain's as fuzzy as hers these days, I swear."
"Touching her is a good thing," Clara notes gently, offering a warm smile. "She needs that as much as food or water right now, to know that affection from another human is good, and that she deserves it. I'll admit, I'm worried about her self-esteem in the long term."
Tara smiles, but shakes her head a bit. "I've no right to cause you any pain, even by touching her." Her eyebrows rise, then she frowns in concern. "Her self-esteem? That's one area she's never had a problem in."
"Pain? Oh, Tara, no...please, don't worry about that. I know somewhere, someone's taking just as good a care of my daughter, too," Clara explains intently, brows lifted. "And Greer was the center of her own universe before. She'll remember things she did, but now she'll hurt for having done them. Put yourself in her shoes..."
Tara smiles sheepishly, her hand stealing down to hold Greer's. "Ouch. She's going to feel incredibly guilty, is that what you're saying?"
"I expect her to," Clara replies apologetically, shaking her head somewhat sadly. "It's a shame, it really is, but the guilt will be a normal reaction. The pain of causing others pain. Hopefully she's young enough to be resilient. I think she will be, as bright as she is."
Tara sighs softly. "Well, at least I can honestly sympathize with her." She nods slightly in agreement. "She's smart," the pilot mutters fervently. "She'll know it wasn't her fault." It almost sounds like a prayer.
"She is smart, but don't let that fool you," Clara notes gently. "Humans may mature mentally rapidly at times, but emotionally? Almost never. She's still the emotions and social skills of a six year old, and guilt is a slippery emotion. I'll do what I can for her," she adds comfortingly.
Tara's mouth quirks in amusement. "But it'll probably be a long period of adjustment, won't it."
"It's possible," Clara allows apologetically with a slow nod. "Or she could bounce back quickly. I'll examine her for trauma when she's recovered physically. Now that the physical damage is undone, working with her psychologically will be far, far easier."
Tara mhmmms, musing, "All the more reason to keep her here then." She starts to grin. "Wonder if I can wheedle Lieutenant Mayes into exchanging my quarters for some larger ones."
"Or try for Officer Korval," Clara suggests with a grin. "He's the young one with solid white hair. Terribly formal fellow, but nice as can be. Larger quarters might certainly be in order, though. Greer's welcome to stay here in Medbay until you can arrange it thouhg."
Tara nods thoughtfully. "Korval... don't remember him. I won't be able to stay here the whole week. I've /got/ to get back to work, and there's my appointment with my parole officer. I should be able to arrange it sometime within the next six days, hopefully." She doesn't even realize she's more-or-less decided to keep the kiddo with her.
Clara nods lightly, raking her bangs back with the fingers of one hand. "That's not a bad idea. And my staff and I can keep a close eye on her, I promise you that. Greer will be -fine- if you need to take care of things, that I can promise."
Tara chuckles. "I know. I daresay she's even safer here than if she spent the day lying in Security. I'm waiting to walk in here and catch her winding Kramer around her little finger."
"Oh, -that- should take all of about ten seconds," Clara agrees with a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes. "Kramer's an utter sap, for all that I couldn't function without him. He's wonderful, though. I'll just make sure he knows not to introduce her to silly string."
Tara snickers. "I can just see this place," her eyes wander around, "Just covered in pink and green and neon yellow strings of whatever-that-stuff-is. It'd be festive, you have to admit that."
Clara glances around as well, smirking slightly. "It'd certainly get some folk laughing, which is the key to getting better. And goodness knows Medbay has a decent supply of toys. There's silly string hidden all over, foam disc guns, I have a few water pistols, things like that."
Tara's eyes widen. "You medics have more fun than folks give you credit for, don't you!"
Clara waggles her brows above overly innocent eyes, blinking sweetly. "Who, -us-? Oh, never," she counters, shaking her head in over-dramatic emphasis before grinninng. "Okay, maybe we do. It keeps us sane, and a happy staff makes for happy patients, and happy patients get well faster."
Tara grins. "Sounds like a dose of good medicine to me. Which reminds me," she gestures toward the noveldisks and puzzles, "How much do I owe you for that stuff?"
Clara glances at the direction indicated, then shakes her head with a slight smile. "Not a single credit, lady, and I'll take no arguement about it. Trust me, Tara, I can afford it even on a major's salary. Riley and I are regular customers at the toy store, anyway."
Tara turns a little red, snickering. "Yeah, but when he does the bills, he'll think I've been taking advantage of you."
Clara actually grins at that, shaking her head again. "Seperate bills. Seperate finances, actually. I have to keep my finances separate, so long as we're legally not married."
Tara smiles weakly. "Yes, well... Thank God for patient privilege. I trust you, of course, but I don't know your staff quite as well. It really does bother me to think the Admiral'd think I was up to my old tricks. And if he thought I was conning /you/..." She shudders.
Clara holds up a hand lightly. "For one, I can't be conned," she notes gently, but doesn't explain further. "For two, Riley trusts me implicitly, and the family lawyers would know at the next quarter if someone was bilking me. If I say you're still on the up and up, Riley's going to believe me."
Tara arches an eyebrow at number one, but doesn't comment. No need to mention she's heard /that/ before. "That's three," she points out, amused.
Clara grins faintly, flittering her fingers. "Okay, three. I can do neurosurgery, but please don't ask me to count," she notes with a laugh.
Tara snickers. "Thank you for the reassurance though. The Admiral... can be scary."
"You are -not- joking about that," Clara agrees with a fond smile of remembrance. "He's scared the daylights out of me before. But he's -good-. He knows how to be a professional."
Tara's eyebrows rise. "He scared -you-?" She shakes her head, slightly disbelieving. "Oh, I know just how good he is, and professional. If it weren't for him... I mean, he had to do it, I realize that, but if it weren't for him, I'd be willing to bet I could've escaped the night they arrested me."
"Oh, yeah. Scared me a =lot-. Read me the riot act, and quite properly," Clara agrees with a quirked grin. "I sedated him without his permission, and he didn't appreciate it." She tilts her head to consider this, then nods. "I believe that. He's extremely good at what he does. I could never hope to out shoot him."
At least, without him getting turned green by his Second-in-Command, eh? Tara's eyebrows rise. "You're CMO. Last time I checked the regs, you don't need permission if you think it's necessary." She grins faintly. "I've watched him, on the range. Another, rather minor, reason I tried to run rather than pull my laspistol. He's almost -too- good. Even if I did have an inkling to go back to smuggling, he'd make me think twice."
"I don't," Clara agrees affably enough. "I outrank him and everyone else in the Complex in medical matters. But the problem was, I didn't not just get his permission, I didn't tell him. He had no idea why he'd slept through being hunted by the Council. Earned us both a few ouches," she admits sheepishly. "My fault, too."
Tara's eyes widen. "Ah well, you learned, right? Bloody Council could've laid off though. I've seen him, and you, both so exhausted you're liable to fall asleep on your desks. You two need a vacation." She snaps her fingers. "Bloody hell, that reminds me- Greer's way behind on her immunizations. Can she get caught up on those while she's here?"
Clara leans back to snag the chart off the foot of the bed and makes a notation on it before returning it. "Full blood workup and immunizations, check. First thing in the morning," she agrees, then chuckles, shaking her head. "Nope, no vacation. We took almost three weeks off about four months ago to go sailing. It was amazing."
Tara sighs blissfully. "That sounds like heaven. Three whole weeks? And the Complex didn't collapse into rubble?" she jokes.
Clara snicker slightly, shaking her head. "Amazing, hmm? But we both kept an oar in, since our boat has a full comm. Anyone who wanted to get hold of us, could. I think we only turned it off for maybe a day or two just to be completely alone."
Tara smiles. "Still, the illusion of privacy is nice, eh?" She snickers. "I never pictured either of you as the romantic type."
Clara's brows shoot up in rather distinct amusement. "Us? Thank you, actually. We try to keep it professional in public. But yeah, he's a horrible sap, and so am I. Terribly romantic. He made me manicotti from scratch one night just so I'd agree to marry him."
Tara's jaw drops slightly. "He can cook? He's male, an officer, and in the Navy... and he can /cook/? There's something wrong with that equation. Manicotti, eh?"
Clara grins, brows quirking lightly. "He can cook amazingly well, actually. He just rarely has time to. Now me? I set the kitchen on fire," she admits sheepishly. "But yes, he can cook. He can clean too, although neither of us makes enough of a mess to make it a big deal."
Tara deadpans, "If I cook you vermicelli, can I keep you too?" Yes, she's joking, and she pretends to duck. "Bloody hell, does the man have /faults/?"
"I'd say yes, but here we run into a fault of my dear lifemate's," Clara responds with a laugh, taking it as a joke as well. "Sharing is not his forte. And he's terribly stubborn, and I have to admit that he can be terribly unobservent. I think that's a man thing though."
Tara snickers quietly, nodding her agreement. "Yes... Actually, though, I think some of it's purposeful blindness. Like when I had about fifty warrants for, how'd he put it, minor customs violations. But he pretended not to know about it til I forced him into an arrest. Or the fact that not all SecOffs are as honorable and upright as he is- that shocked him, I think."
"Seriously shocked him," Clara agrees, looking vaguely troubled for a moment. "He's...-so- used to the good guys being -good-. He honestly expects the best of his people, and believes in them. It's why this whole base would follow him into the ground if we had to. But it also means he's stunned when betrayed."
Tara's eyebrows rise- she's definitely startled. "You knew about that?" Okay, so Tara's probably thinking about a different incident than what Clara is. Wincing slightly, she nods to that last. "Yeah, I... Well, ouch."
Clara tilts her head, looking slightly puzzled for a moment. "Ouch?" She concentrates for a moment, then ventures thougthfully, "I don't think we're talking about the same thing, Tara. I'm thinking of things that you weren't involved in, to my knowledge. Like when he was shot."
Tara ahhhs, looking somewhat relieved. "Yeah... I was thinking about when I sat in his office bragging about Security types being bribable, right after I tried bribing /him/. The look on his face...' She shakes her head. "Or... or when he had to arrest me? I told you, he looked so disappointed... that's gotta be the second most horrible night of my life." SHe drops into silence for a moment. "I haven't," she notes, "The faintest idea why I give a damn if he's disappointed or not. I sit and puzzle over it sometimes. I think it was the chocolate."
Clara blinks slowly at that, then rubs at her eyes, smiling a faint smile. "I can't think of anyone in Security right now that's bribable. I should have noticed the ones that were dangerous before, but I wasn't looking either," she notes a bit guiltily. "Riley's...admirable. He doesn't just command respect, he earns it by having respect back. He believes in people wholeheartedly. And when you've got that backing, you don't want to disappoint him." The last few sentences, oddly enough, drift into a gentle, extremely proper British accent.
Tara's mouth quirks. "The Admirable Admiral. Sounds like a bad play." Still, she nods. "Yeah, I do understand what you mean, in an abstract sort of way. And by God, he's the most dependable person I know. No offense? You are too, but it's in a different way, you know?" Her eyebrows rise in amusement. "Not these SecOffs. SecOffs elsewhere are bribable. Sorry, I'm vague, and you need to head home and get some sleep before I keep you up all night chatting again."
Clara rubs lightly at her face, yawning once, then grinning apologetically. "No offense. I'm an entirely different personality sort than is Riley," she agrees affably, then nods, climbing to her feet. "I really should go home tonight. One night away is enough. Comm me if you need anything, all right?"
Tara mhmmms, dipping into the drawer of the nightstand for a pack of cards. "I can keep your nurses awake with some poker," she offers with a wink. "You and the Admiral have a good night, Clara."
"Don't leave my staff broke," Clara warns, obviusly teasing. "I didn't budget for extra pay raises," she adds with a wink. "Goodnight, Tara," she concludes, then slips out and towards the door.
Clara heads out the swinging doors into the Medical Bay.
