Fic: Singing the Blues (ST: TOS)
Title: Singing the Blues
Characters: Chapel, Tina Lawton
Rating: PG for medical jargon
Warnings: Nongraphic discussion of brain injury between medical professionals. I'm just worried that there are people who might be bothered or triggered if caught off guard. Also, it's kind of...maudlin at the beginning. Poor Christine.
Prompt: Nobody leaves here without singing the blues. For the Silver Screen Drabblefest at where_no_woman
Summary: Christine had a rough day in the infirmary, and decides to see if music and ethanol help.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or universe. That would be Paramount and Roddenberry.
With Ella Fitzgerald in the air and whiskey in her glass, Christine could pretend she was home. It was a poor illusion, but even the act of trying helped. She’d do anything to get the sound of heart monitors out of her ears, to get the tang of antiseptic out of her mouth.
The recirculated air and smooth white walls of her quarters weren’t like home at all. With music and contraband booze, however, she could pretend. No amount of pretending would get Ensign Dao home. It had taken too long to get her back to the ship, into the infirmary. It had taken too long to get blood and oxygen into her brain. Christine had seen the scans-everything from the brainstem up was just gone. The path report would say things like “obliteration of the white and grey matter demarcation.” Dr. McCoy’s report would say “absent corneal reflexes” and “devastating brain injury.”
Christine Chapel, RN and Ph.D., would only write a report with the tear tracks on her face and condensation rings on the table.
There was a soft knock on her door. When Christine called out from her seat at her desk, Tina Lawton poked her blonde head around the corner.
“Is it true, what they are saying about Jenny Dao?”
“What are they saying?” She winced when she heard her own voice. It wasn’t sharp, but it was less kind than the other women deserved.
The younger nurse stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
“That she won’t wake up.”
Christine kicked the extra chair towards Tina, and reached to grab another glass from the cabinet. “Yeah, its true.”
Tina sank down onto the chair. “My God.”
“Did you know her?” Christine asked as she poured a small measure of whiskey for Tina.
“Not really. She was Karsha’s friend. I’d met her a few times. But…is Dr. McCoy sure?”
“She’s already gone. The abdominal hemorrhaging was too severe. Her brain went too long without oxygen, and her cortex, her midbrain, her cerebellum-it all died. Everything that made her Jenny Dao is already gone. I’m sorry.”
A warm hand covered her own. “Chrissy, I’m sorry, too.”
“I didn’t know her at all.”
“That doesn’t matter. She was your patient, right? So…I’m sorry.”
Christine squeezed Tina’s hand, and then released it to scrub the tears out of her eyes. A thought occurred to her. “Do you know where she was from?”
“Martian Colony 3? No, that’s Mira. I think she was from Colony 2.”
Christine nodded, feeling vague and tired. Knowing where Dao was from mattered for some reason. “You’re from Wisconsin, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And you’re from Louisiana.” Tina downed the last of her drink. “Why do you ask?”
Christine swirled the last drops of whiskey around in her glass. “It just seems like something I should know.” Ella was singing about stormy weather and rocking chairs. Her voice was full and rich, and filled the silence like a warm breeze. Christine set the glass down and recapped the bottle. “You want to get lunch tomorrow?”
Tina smiled as she stood to go. “That would be nice.” She paused for a moment, then grabbed Christine’s hand again. “Are you going to be okay tonight, honey?”
Christine smiled back and walked Tina to the door. Unlike New Orleans, there weren’t many rain storms on the Enterprise. Sometimes, however, it did feel like home. “Yeah, I’ll be okay tonight.”
Characters: Chapel, Tina Lawton
Rating: PG for medical jargon
Warnings: Nongraphic discussion of brain injury between medical professionals. I'm just worried that there are people who might be bothered or triggered if caught off guard. Also, it's kind of...maudlin at the beginning. Poor Christine.
Prompt: Nobody leaves here without singing the blues. For the Silver Screen Drabblefest at where_no_woman
Summary: Christine had a rough day in the infirmary, and decides to see if music and ethanol help.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or universe. That would be Paramount and Roddenberry.
With Ella Fitzgerald in the air and whiskey in her glass, Christine could pretend she was home. It was a poor illusion, but even the act of trying helped. She’d do anything to get the sound of heart monitors out of her ears, to get the tang of antiseptic out of her mouth.
The recirculated air and smooth white walls of her quarters weren’t like home at all. With music and contraband booze, however, she could pretend. No amount of pretending would get Ensign Dao home. It had taken too long to get her back to the ship, into the infirmary. It had taken too long to get blood and oxygen into her brain. Christine had seen the scans-everything from the brainstem up was just gone. The path report would say things like “obliteration of the white and grey matter demarcation.” Dr. McCoy’s report would say “absent corneal reflexes” and “devastating brain injury.”
Christine Chapel, RN and Ph.D., would only write a report with the tear tracks on her face and condensation rings on the table.
There was a soft knock on her door. When Christine called out from her seat at her desk, Tina Lawton poked her blonde head around the corner.
“Is it true, what they are saying about Jenny Dao?”
“What are they saying?” She winced when she heard her own voice. It wasn’t sharp, but it was less kind than the other women deserved.
The younger nurse stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
“That she won’t wake up.”
Christine kicked the extra chair towards Tina, and reached to grab another glass from the cabinet. “Yeah, its true.”
Tina sank down onto the chair. “My God.”
“Did you know her?” Christine asked as she poured a small measure of whiskey for Tina.
“Not really. She was Karsha’s friend. I’d met her a few times. But…is Dr. McCoy sure?”
“She’s already gone. The abdominal hemorrhaging was too severe. Her brain went too long without oxygen, and her cortex, her midbrain, her cerebellum-it all died. Everything that made her Jenny Dao is already gone. I’m sorry.”
A warm hand covered her own. “Chrissy, I’m sorry, too.”
“I didn’t know her at all.”
“That doesn’t matter. She was your patient, right? So…I’m sorry.”
Christine squeezed Tina’s hand, and then released it to scrub the tears out of her eyes. A thought occurred to her. “Do you know where she was from?”
“Martian Colony 3? No, that’s Mira. I think she was from Colony 2.”
Christine nodded, feeling vague and tired. Knowing where Dao was from mattered for some reason. “You’re from Wisconsin, aren’t you?”
“Yes. And you’re from Louisiana.” Tina downed the last of her drink. “Why do you ask?”
Christine swirled the last drops of whiskey around in her glass. “It just seems like something I should know.” Ella was singing about stormy weather and rocking chairs. Her voice was full and rich, and filled the silence like a warm breeze. Christine set the glass down and recapped the bottle. “You want to get lunch tomorrow?”
Tina smiled as she stood to go. “That would be nice.” She paused for a moment, then grabbed Christine’s hand again. “Are you going to be okay tonight, honey?”
Christine smiled back and walked Tina to the door. Unlike New Orleans, there weren’t many rain storms on the Enterprise. Sometimes, however, it did feel like home. “Yeah, I’ll be okay tonight.”