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In Sickness and In Health [Closed]
Apr. 10th, 2012 10:01 pmThe next day, when Shepard wakes up, she discovers she’s sick.
Really sick. And she knows it.
“Walk it off,” she tells herself as she stumbles out of bed; she’s damp with sweat, but she feels like she’s freezing. She tries to swallow back a cough, but it presses forward anyway. Yesterday was uncomfortable, but today.
Well, today was something else.
If Shepard believed in a God, she might wonder if this were their idea of a joke.
Shepard remembers the last time she was really sick. The year she turned nine, she caught pneumonia. She had always been a fairly healthy child up until then. She had spent her entire life up until then on Mindoir. She’d been incredibly active for her age. There was always work to be done on the farm and since a colony as new as Mindoir offered few amenities, there wasn’t much she could do except play outside with her brother.
Her family had been settled there for years now, but resources that probably seemed basic to anyone living on Earth were just being established. And as they were being established, more people were moving in. As Shepard had spent her entire life without exposure to off-world humans, she hadn’t developed the immunities that her older brother and parents had.
It wasn’t long after the population surged that she found herself in bed, holding her mother’s hand as she read to her from a book. Her brother, thoughtful even at fourteen when most boys weren’t, brought her one of the tomatoes they had planted, even though she couldn’t eat it. And her father, who worked tirelessly day after day took the day off to find a doctor on-world who could be there that day.
Shepard wasn’t a child anymore, though. She couldn’t rely on others to take care of her. They all had their own things to worry about. The last thing Shepard wanted was to be a burden to somebody else.
“Water,” Shepard says to the replicator, and she’s thankful when it decides to actually oblige. “And vitamins.” A few pills spill onto her hand.
She tosses the pills into her mouth and knocks her head back, washing the vitamins down with half the bottle. She wipes her mouth with the back of her arm then gets dressed.
It’s time for her morning jog.
By the time she finishes circling the station once, she’s winded. Breathing somehow seemed difficult enough, but swallowing the fact that she might not be able to follow through on her morning ritual was even harder.
There was no faking out Bashir today, and she knows it. He had seen through her yesterday, and her condition had only grown worse since then. Leaning against the wall, she tugs her communicator out of her pocket and flicks it open, then taps out a quick message.
Then hits send, tucks the communicator into her hoodie pocket, then makes her way to the Training Room. She might not be able to follow her schedule to a T, but she’s sure as hell going to try.
Really sick. And she knows it.
“Walk it off,” she tells herself as she stumbles out of bed; she’s damp with sweat, but she feels like she’s freezing. She tries to swallow back a cough, but it presses forward anyway. Yesterday was uncomfortable, but today.
Well, today was something else.
If Shepard believed in a God, she might wonder if this were their idea of a joke.
Shepard remembers the last time she was really sick. The year she turned nine, she caught pneumonia. She had always been a fairly healthy child up until then. She had spent her entire life up until then on Mindoir. She’d been incredibly active for her age. There was always work to be done on the farm and since a colony as new as Mindoir offered few amenities, there wasn’t much she could do except play outside with her brother.
Her family had been settled there for years now, but resources that probably seemed basic to anyone living on Earth were just being established. And as they were being established, more people were moving in. As Shepard had spent her entire life without exposure to off-world humans, she hadn’t developed the immunities that her older brother and parents had.
It wasn’t long after the population surged that she found herself in bed, holding her mother’s hand as she read to her from a book. Her brother, thoughtful even at fourteen when most boys weren’t, brought her one of the tomatoes they had planted, even though she couldn’t eat it. And her father, who worked tirelessly day after day took the day off to find a doctor on-world who could be there that day.
Shepard wasn’t a child anymore, though. She couldn’t rely on others to take care of her. They all had their own things to worry about. The last thing Shepard wanted was to be a burden to somebody else.
“Water,” Shepard says to the replicator, and she’s thankful when it decides to actually oblige. “And vitamins.” A few pills spill onto her hand.
She tosses the pills into her mouth and knocks her head back, washing the vitamins down with half the bottle. She wipes her mouth with the back of her arm then gets dressed.
It’s time for her morning jog.
By the time she finishes circling the station once, she’s winded. Breathing somehow seemed difficult enough, but swallowing the fact that she might not be able to follow through on her morning ritual was even harder.
There was no faking out Bashir today, and she knows it. He had seen through her yesterday, and her condition had only grown worse since then. Leaning against the wall, she tugs her communicator out of her pocket and flicks it open, then taps out a quick message.
FROM: Jane Shepard
TO: Julian Bashir
Change of plans. Not going to be at breakfast this morning.
Then hits send, tucks the communicator into her hoodie pocket, then makes her way to the Training Room. She might not be able to follow her schedule to a T, but she’s sure as hell going to try.
