BSG - Headcase
Title: Headcase
Rating: All ages
Characters: Doc Cottle, Lee Adama, and a brief appearance by Kara Thrace
Genre: General silliness
Warnings: Incredibly vague spoilers for the mini and 33
Word Count: 624
Summary: After five solid days on the run, Lee is forced to check in with the doctor. Vaguely implied Kara/Lee shippiness.
Author's Note: This is what I get for spending my evenings alternately reading Kara/Lee fanfic and studying neuroscience. I read about an obscure part of the brain and suddenly I've got sciencey!bunnies like no one's business XD This is silly and random and probably not really great, but I thought it was too funny not to post.
Headcase
Lee hates doctor's appointments at the best of times, but for the first time he's seriously considering going AWOL rather than having to sit through this one. It's been nearly a week since their five-day run from the Cylons, and Doc Cottle wants everyone on Galactica to submit for a full physical, including a brain scan, to "see just how badly you all bashed yourselves up."
Lee isn't worried about being poked and prodded and stuck with needles. He hates it, of course, but he'll deal. No, its' the brain scan that's got him feeling like crawling into a corner and hiding. He's been having enough issues with his brain this last week or two, and while he's fairly certain that his actual thoughts won't come up on an MRI, he knows that Cottle is often infuriatingly insightful, and Lee thinks that if anyone could look at his brain and somehow come up with the name that's been stuck there since day one, it would be Cottle.
An hour and a half later, the doc's run all his tests, measured Lee's blood pressure and bone density and reflexes and gods know how much else, because Lee stopped keeping track about twenty minutes in. Cottle's got his scans and x-rays and results spread out in front of him and is taking Lee through is prognosis. There's the expected wear-and-tear from exhaustion, the fatigue and strain in his muscles, and he's confirmed that his headaches are mostly from the effort of trying to stay awake, stay alert, stay alive. The brain scan is last, and Lee takes a moment to hope that Cottle will forget and let him go, but the doc's serious about these checkups.
"You've got a lot of activity in your anterior cingulate cortex," Cottle says, pointing at a spot on the black-and-white image with a pencil. "It's concerned with conflicting urges," he continues. "Not surprising that its' been working overtime, considering all you've had to do these days. Still," he says, frowning slightly more, "it's a lot of very recent activity."
He pulls a battered cigarette from a pocket and lights it, fixing Lee with a glare that might almost be concerned. "Got a lot of difficult decisions to make, Captain?"
Lee stares at the scan, the area Cottle had pointed out; behind his eyes he sees blonde hair and hazel eyes, hears laughter and gunfire and the landing struts hitting the deck time after time.
"Yeah, I might have a few."
The look the good doctor gives him says he isn't going to ask, and Lee is suddenly, profoundly grateful for Cottle's habit of minding his own business, because right now Lee hasn't got the concentration to make up something that sounds plausible.
"Alright then, Captain, you're free to go," Cottle says, already turning around to prep a new file for whoever's next.
Lee thanks him and stands, making for the door. He's nearly there, hand stretching out, when the hatch opens and Lee has to blink. Blonde hair and hazel eyes and laughter and Lee knows he has got to catch up on sleep, because clearly his brain is having a difficult time figuring out what's real.
Kara stops in front of him, grin looking more like a smirk, and reaches out a hand to pat him on he shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself thinking so hard," she says and laughs at the funny look on Lee's face. He feels his brows drawing together and opens his mouth to make some smart-mouth response, but she's already slipped past him.
Lee stares after her for a moment, long enough to catch her eye again before he turns and thinks that maybe it's not Cottle's mind-reading skills that he should be worried about.
Rating: All ages
Characters: Doc Cottle, Lee Adama, and a brief appearance by Kara Thrace
Genre: General silliness
Warnings: Incredibly vague spoilers for the mini and 33
Word Count: 624
Summary: After five solid days on the run, Lee is forced to check in with the doctor. Vaguely implied Kara/Lee shippiness.
Author's Note: This is what I get for spending my evenings alternately reading Kara/Lee fanfic and studying neuroscience. I read about an obscure part of the brain and suddenly I've got sciencey!bunnies like no one's business XD This is silly and random and probably not really great, but I thought it was too funny not to post.
Headcase
Lee hates doctor's appointments at the best of times, but for the first time he's seriously considering going AWOL rather than having to sit through this one. It's been nearly a week since their five-day run from the Cylons, and Doc Cottle wants everyone on Galactica to submit for a full physical, including a brain scan, to "see just how badly you all bashed yourselves up."
Lee isn't worried about being poked and prodded and stuck with needles. He hates it, of course, but he'll deal. No, its' the brain scan that's got him feeling like crawling into a corner and hiding. He's been having enough issues with his brain this last week or two, and while he's fairly certain that his actual thoughts won't come up on an MRI, he knows that Cottle is often infuriatingly insightful, and Lee thinks that if anyone could look at his brain and somehow come up with the name that's been stuck there since day one, it would be Cottle.
An hour and a half later, the doc's run all his tests, measured Lee's blood pressure and bone density and reflexes and gods know how much else, because Lee stopped keeping track about twenty minutes in. Cottle's got his scans and x-rays and results spread out in front of him and is taking Lee through is prognosis. There's the expected wear-and-tear from exhaustion, the fatigue and strain in his muscles, and he's confirmed that his headaches are mostly from the effort of trying to stay awake, stay alert, stay alive. The brain scan is last, and Lee takes a moment to hope that Cottle will forget and let him go, but the doc's serious about these checkups.
"You've got a lot of activity in your anterior cingulate cortex," Cottle says, pointing at a spot on the black-and-white image with a pencil. "It's concerned with conflicting urges," he continues. "Not surprising that its' been working overtime, considering all you've had to do these days. Still," he says, frowning slightly more, "it's a lot of very recent activity."
He pulls a battered cigarette from a pocket and lights it, fixing Lee with a glare that might almost be concerned. "Got a lot of difficult decisions to make, Captain?"
Lee stares at the scan, the area Cottle had pointed out; behind his eyes he sees blonde hair and hazel eyes, hears laughter and gunfire and the landing struts hitting the deck time after time.
"Yeah, I might have a few."
The look the good doctor gives him says he isn't going to ask, and Lee is suddenly, profoundly grateful for Cottle's habit of minding his own business, because right now Lee hasn't got the concentration to make up something that sounds plausible.
"Alright then, Captain, you're free to go," Cottle says, already turning around to prep a new file for whoever's next.
Lee thanks him and stands, making for the door. He's nearly there, hand stretching out, when the hatch opens and Lee has to blink. Blonde hair and hazel eyes and laughter and Lee knows he has got to catch up on sleep, because clearly his brain is having a difficult time figuring out what's real.
Kara stops in front of him, grin looking more like a smirk, and reaches out a hand to pat him on he shoulder. "Don't hurt yourself thinking so hard," she says and laughs at the funny look on Lee's face. He feels his brows drawing together and opens his mouth to make some smart-mouth response, but she's already slipped past him.
Lee stares after her for a moment, long enough to catch her eye again before he turns and thinks that maybe it's not Cottle's mind-reading skills that he should be worried about.