Day 52, morning; Infirmary; Attn: Carson, others [F]

[conn_gilchrist]

There had been some disturbance in the night that had pulled Conn out of sleep-- rushing, someone shouting in a language not English, murmured voices-- but he couldn't stay awake between the drugs and his body's need to heal

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[dr_liz_weir]

In the end, Elizabeth had elected to have breakfast, just coffee and a muffin anyway, in her office. The mess was full of unhappy gossip now and she didn't want to hear it, didn't want to be asked questions she couldn't answer. She worked, or tried to for a little while, but between worrying about Radek, and about Carson who she'd seen leaving the mess looking very down, her concentration was shot.

It was too soon to hope that anything further would be known about Radek -most likely he was still under sedation- but the infirmary was where she wanted to go anyway. She could talk to Carson at least, and see how he was doing. He had to know that Selen wasn't one to hold a grudge, and that it wasn't Carson he was angry with so much as it was the circumstances.

Elizabeth didn't know if that would come as any comfort to the doctor, but she figured she had to try. Thus resolved, she stood and left her office, making her way to the infirmary.

[conn_gilchrist]

Conn's lungs felt full-- a night of having fluids settling in while he slept getting the better of him. He started coughing, grimacing at the pain and awful taste as he did. One of the nurses came over to check on him. Eventually, everything cleared, at least somewhat

[dr_liz_weir]

Elizabeth's mood, as she made her way to the infirmary, had been anxious at best, running perilously close to genuinely dispirited and, to be honest, she'd just plain forgotten that the chaplain was there. She'd only just made the determination that Carson must be in his office, and likely wasn't to be disturbed, when the chaplain spoke up. As down as she'd been feeling, she could not help smiling at his rather apt, if colorful, description.

"I'm afraid you're probably right, on both counts," she said ruefully. "Though if you're up to taking requests for prayers..." she hesitated, because she knew that Radek was a non-believer, as were most of his countrymen, but maybe that wasn't so important just now, "well, Dr Zelenka can probably use all the help he can get about now."

[conn_gilchrist]

The strange, desperate voice of the night before suddenly clicked into place. That language could have been some sort of Eastern European tongue. Conn nodded. "I'll be sure and put in a good word for the both of you." He didn't ask questions. If Doctor Weir wanted to share and felt she could, then she would.

He looked up and smiled as the nurse set a breakfast tray on his bedside table. "Oh, thank you, darlin'. Still fair to middlin' warm, too!" He peered under the cover at what was on offer. There was an orange juice-like beverage and reconstituted milk, a blue-strawberry muffin with a pat of butter or margarine (His guess was margarine), some scrambled eggs which Conn's military-experienced eye told him were also reconstituted, and two small slivers of ham. "Ah, just like Mom used to make!" He gave Dr. Weir a grin. "'Mom' bein' the nickname for the mess cook during my first tour in Afghanistan..."

[dr_liz_weir]

Again, Elizabeth found the man's predictable humor coaxing a smile from her, and she found herself inevitably reflecting how great his misfortune was, and yet how good his spirits. There was a reason, she supposed, that he had become a chaplain, and it dawned on her then, just what kind of resource he was, and how she much could use that resource just now.

"Mr Gilchrist," she ventured, "do you think you would be able to council a man who is, in all probability, an unbeliever?"