Behind
The scenes
Closed doors.
Hidden.
Her knees began aching hours ago, but there were more important things at stake than her flimsy biological joints. Actually, if Kiira had known about this- that Horatio had been crouched in the same position, spryly maneuvering her fingers but nothing else for almost nine hours- the poor technomage would have been throttled.
When she heard her someone's approach her paranoia seemed warranted and the sudden jerk of her fingers ended in a small, but impressive, burn. Her knees finally gave out, and she landed on the floor, on the verge of tears. Suddenly, she could feel all her limbs again, and they were protesting loudly. Everything ached and screamed.
And she'd managed to lose at least two hours of effort because of the crossed wires. There was something addictive about doing these tasks by hand, but it became obvious, even to oblivious Horatio, that at times, magic was the preferred method for a reason. She shut her eyes, and let the her senses disappear. She stayed in a strange emptiness, feeling the rush of the electricity, the stability of the metal wiring, the cold boundaries of the starch, and the incessant ringing of the processors it held.
In only a few minutes, the damage was repaired. It would have been more satisfying to do by hand, but sometimes faster was better.
She let her mind drift lazily through the machinery, feeling every buzz and surge. Eventually, she came across the communications, and more out of instinct than choice, let herself listen to her shipmates.
Navi was off being angry again in her room, beating something to death if the sounds of hoof and hammer were any indication. The handful of Seleigh they'd brought aboard from their last stop were all busy packing, unpacking and chatting. They were unusually friendly with eachother, always popping in and out of their rooms. It was unnerving, how little they cared for boundary or privacy. Then again, she was the one silently observing every conversation.
The doctor woman wasn't in her quarters, though. She was in the room in the main sphere that had been designated 'medical.' A thought flitted through Horatio's mind: she ought to go down there and demand assistance with her burns, and perhaps something for her muscle aches. She didn't move.
Kiira was in the medical area too.
Had her First been hurt? What was going on here?
"Actually, I'm impressed you haven't seen her in here yet. She seems quite fond of you, not to mention she can't go more than twelve hours without hurting herself somehow. Right now, she's probably sitting in some ungodly position, destroying her joints."
"So, she does not eat unless reminded, does not move from her work unless coerced?"
"Correct. She's brilliant, really, but there's something wrong with that head of hers."
Horatio's mind returned to her body, and she pouted deeply. Apparently, it was just assumed that she couldn't take care of herself, and the she was always going to end up hurt, no matter what. She forced herself to her feet and began making her way back to her own quarters, her legs wobbling as she walked with one hand on the wall for balance. Every step hurt, but it was for a worthy cause.
Five hours later, when she wobbled her way from her room to the newly staffed infirmary, Momo had nothing to offer but a knowing smile.
==-==-==-==
Fine, Jenjen. If it's going to be that hard to do, I'll write it myself. *pesterpester* You now have a spring board (or a pitchfork to the back, either one works), so off you go!