Life of Eve - Part 1
Life of Eve - Part 1
Summary: Eve's day in sickbay is a rollercoaster.
Date: 35 ACH
Related Logs: None

Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13
34 ACH 6285 Souls

This is a large room holding over twenty bed stations for patients to recover after having treatment severe enough that they cannot immediately return to duty. Each station has various connections for medical equipment, a bed with collapsible railings, fold out table, adjustable positions and a privacy curtain.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Eve Harvey Novella Warwick
Exits: [O] Out [PR] Private Room

Warwick is sitting up in his bed, looking around a bit thoughtfully. Shaking his head once in a while, otherwise keeping still.

Eve steps into the recovery ward, wearing her off duties. Apparently she's not here on any sort of rounds, but visits of a personal nature. As she passes Warwicks bed, she taps her hand on his bed rails, and then raises a hand in a wave was she passes.

Harvey makes his way over to Warwicks bed and places the package on the sidetable next to the bed. "Hey El-Tee..Just figured I'd drop some books over.." the package placed upon the table is wrapped in old newspapers. "I owe you, wingmates and all.."

Warwick nods a little as he hears Harvey's words, "Thanks." He offers a bit of a grin. "How's things going out there?" Eve gets a wave in return, and a smile as she passes by.

You head towards Private Room.

Private Room Genesis - Deck 13
34 ACH 6285 Souls

This is a private room set up with oxygen and power connections, prepared to house special recovery cases. The room itself is unremarkable, meant for patients to be wheeled in, locked into place and connected to monitoring and support systems. Guards at the door are optional, depending on orders, but the equipment here is normally connected to the monitoring stations in Sickbay.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Eve Reed Wireless 760
Exits: [O] Out

Reed is in bed, of course, the back of the bed adjusted so he's reclining, handheld computer in front of him and he's typing on it. There's a few items beside him on a rolling table stand in easy reach of him.

There's a soft knock on the door preceeding her, on the off chance he has another visitor or is using the bed pan or something equally disturbing you don't want to catch another human being doing. Eve pops her head in after a moment, offering a quiet, "Sir?"

Reed looks up, nope, no bedpans in sight. He smiles, "Lieutenant. Please." He gestures, turning off the computer, "Come in, have a seat."

A smile warms on Evelyn's features at the invitation, and she steps into the room, snicking the door closed behind her. "I heard you were awake…" She says quietly, as if stepping into a sanctuary instead of his recovery room.

Reed nods, "Indeed. three days in a coma is forever these days. Glad to be out of it, even if I don't remember any of it." He gestures to bedside chair. "Please. I'd offer you something but my intestinal tract is AWOL at the moment, and non functional, they won't even let me have water."

Eve moves to a chair, more like edging towards it. "I think we can allow your lapse in being able to host company, given the present circumstances." She sits slowly, still looking at him as if she's seen a ghost. "Good thing for you, Major Zaharis recorded it all. Maybe you can play our voices back later, if you need some help falling asleep."

Reeds expression changes a little, "I had a problem falling asleep last night. Fear. Afraid of what I'd have lost when I woke up that time." He smirks, "Nothing bad happened, and I think I'm over that little fear." He looks at her, "What's wrong?"

Eve smiles forceably, giving a little rueful shake of her head, but her eyes are glossy in the dim light. "Nothing. Nothing, sir. Just glad to to see you alert again. Gave us all a hell of a fright. You…you don't remember anything?" She asks again, as if needing some sort of confirmation.

Reed smiles, "You're just an awful liar, Lieutenant, you know that? No, I remember.. drifting off on the floor of the Sula when the Morpha hit, then waking up with an injured CMO trying to calm me down, as I was somewhat disorientated."

Eve gives a bit of a laugh. "Yes well." She rubs at nose with the curve of her hand. "I'll work on that." She swallows back more emotion, trying to even out her features a bit. "But nothing while you were asleep, then?" Using asleep instead of coma, as if perhaps that's better some how.

Reed shakes his head, "No, nothing. Why did you sneak in here and draw on my face or something and they're not telling me?"

Eve leans foward slightly, resting her forearms across her legs, head hung, "No nothing like that. Just morbid curiousity, I suppose." She takes a deep breath, canting her face back upwards with a placid look now on her features. "My condolences on your ship, sir. But we'll find a way to make it right." Maybe military matters are easier to focus on.

Reeds expression becomes more somber. "There is no way to make it right, Lieutenant. Any more than there's a way to bring back the 450 people who died in that battle. All we can do is keep going, and work to rebuild what we've lost. Protect those we have left and make it work. When you fall on your face, you get back up. If you don't you die there in the mud, so there is no other choice. Doesn't matter if you fell because you tripped, or if you fell because a Cylon put two in your guts."

Eve gives a slow nod, "I certainly know a bit about falling on my face, sir." She's seated in a chair next to Reed's bed, the two of them apparently having a somber conversation if the looks on their faces in the dim light is any indication. "But I'm glad we had a surgeon that could put your guts back together."

Reed is reclining up on the bed, the back adjusted. He nods to Eve, "Yeah, so am I in fact. the CMO did a hell of a job looking me over and keeping me from slipping away, and that's the sign of a real Healer."

All clean and uniformed up, Eli knocks on the door before peeking her/his head in, eyebrow quirked and a look of concern on her face.

Eve glances over at the knock on the door, offering Eli a bit of a smile. "Well. It looks like you have another visitor, sir. I'll take my leave of you. Don't need to stress you out with so many folks at once." She offers, slipping to her feet.

Reed looks to Eve, and smiles, "No, not at all." He looks to the door, "Sheriff, come in thanks for dropping by." He looks to eve, "I just wanted to ask the Sheriff something, feel free to stay."

Eli slips further in, nodding politely. "Sirs." She greets uh 'crisply', hands folded behind her back as she lingers near the door, waiting.

Eve sinks back into the chair, not quite sure if this is anything she wants to be witness too, especially seeming how most of the dramah around the ship lately seems to be pointed at her. But she sits. Stays. Quiet for the moment.

Reed nods to Eve, then looks to Eli, "Sheriff. I assume you have my sidearm rig tightly in your custody? Was there any damage to the rig itself? I've been a little out of sorts lately, with my coma and all."

"The…side rig sir? - You were in a coma sir…I mean…" Eli trails off. "It was missing a clip or so, but naturally sir, those can be replaced. But nothing more serious than that, sir. As soon as you need it back, we can…get that to you."

Eve looks between Eli and Reed, her expression levelling off. Maybe she knows where this is going, of where Reed wanted it to go. The good doctor goes back to hanging her head.

Reed nods, "Yeah, I was. Sheriff, if you could simply find a replacement clip for the rig, and replace the remaining explosive rounds in your departments pool, I'd appreciate it. I don't normally keep high explosives next to my kidneys, only when there are Cylon borders. I'll be around to collect my rig when I'm able to walk down there under my own power."

Eli scratches her chin, nodding slowly before offering softly. "I'll see what I can do, sir." Then she coughs. "I'll also see what I can do about getting an MP up here for when you /can/ walk down there under your own power sir…just…to make sure."

Eve reaches up to smooth hair behind her ear, just listening quietly to the conversation about explosive rounds and sidearms. That's far out of Eve's realm, afterall.

Reed nods, "Well, I know you're having staffing problems, Sheriff, so at your discretion." He glances to Eve, then back to Eli. "That's all I had for you, Sheriff. Thank you for holding onto my weapon. Dismissed."

Eli just blinks and nods firmly, snapping off a salute. "Sirs." That's her 'goodbye' as she turns smoothly on her heel, heading back out.

Eli leaves for Recovery Ward [O].
Eli has left.

Eve looks back to Reed, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "You were hoping that your weapon misfired?" She asks quietly. Curiousity, concern, not accusation or judgement.

Reed looks to Eve, blinking. "Misfired? No, I'm rather proud of the fact that my weapon performed perfectly." he considers, "I wanted to make sure it was properly handled and taken care of. I guess.. It's one of the few things I still have and I wasn't exactly in the right frame of mind to see that it was properly stowed." He gestures to the rolling table beside the bed, where a gold pen, handheld computer, and a small box rests, "That.. is everything I own now, along with that gunbelt and weapon. Everything else, is.. random particles now. I guess there's a psychological name for anxiety when all your personal posessions are destroyed."

Eve smiles softly, "No categorey that you'd fall under, Major. You always were far more capable of coping than the others." Not that she's not going to keep an eye on him for post traumatic stress disorder. "Your personal effects can't be replaced, but they can be supplemented. Consider anything I have of mine that you need, as yours. Though I dare say you wouldn't look good in my civvies."

Reed grins, "Most likely not. But what about you, you seem pretty upset at the moment. I mean, what's wrong? I don't have quarters to hide in anymore."

Eve gives a perfectly practiced smile, the sort she uses to be able to guard her emotions from her patients, when necessary. But there is something around the edges of it, as if it might crack. "Just difficult days. And it was hard to see you like that. You have a lot of friends, Reed." Oops, first name. "I'm surprised the CMO didn't install a revolving door on here."

Reed smirks, "I'm sure he almost did. Still, you know I can be counted on if you need to talk. I know that it must be hard on you to deal with the crap from everything everyone throws at you, each battle has to make things worse."

Eve rubs at her neck with a hand, finally leaving it hooked there for a moment. "My own worst enemy is, and always has been, myself. I frakked up with Major Z something awful. The rest? Well the rest I deserve and can deal with, but I certainly shut a door there. Look. I don't need to be sitting here, whining to you. Get better first, then you and I can have a drink and I'll cry into my glass then, alright?"

Reed smirks, "Zaharis is well able to handle mistakes made by other people. He's not the type to hold onto a grudge against someone who really wants to make things better." He shrugs slightly, "If you want to, that's fine. I don't know when I'll be able to have a drink next, that's still in the air."

Eve shifts to stand, reaching for his hand like she did when he was in the coma, only this time she doesn't have to narrate her movements like she did when he was under. Funny how she seemed to know how to operate then, but not now. "Good. Maybe that'll give me time to work out my issues." A lopsided smile given.

Reed takes the hand, squeesing it supportively. "Self diagnosing? you know what they say about that."

Eve squeezes back, fingers holding his tightly again. "That its far less embarrassing?" She offers, a hint of mirth finding its way to her dark eyes, even if it is reflected inwards at her own situation. "I'm glad you're alright, sir." Even if 'alright' is such a relative term right now.

Reed quirks a brow, "That it rarely works out, but thank you, I'm kind of glad I'm alright too." He smirks to her, "you're sure, you don't want to try me to see if I can be wise?" He nods to the table, "Somebody seems to like me."

Eve squeezes again, before slipping her fingers from his hand. "I have no doubts of your wisdom, sir. But I need to go catch the chief before I go on duty. He's probably cursing everytime I knock on his door, bringing tidings of fraternization."

Reed rolls his eyes, "Fraternization." He lets go of the hand when it's released, "Seems to be the word of the week. Every time I turn around, I'm writing something on the subject. something stirred up that nest." He reaches over, taking the box off the table, opening it. "Okay, I guess I'll just sit here and try to get my head around the silver star here."

Eve smiles a bit. "Sorry about that, sir. And if I may say so? You deserve it." She turns, but pauses, and glances back. "The star. Not the…headache." She nods, succinctly. "I'll be back to bother you soon enough, I imagine. Rest well, Major."

Reed grins, "See you later, LT, see you later." He then ghoes back to consiferig thenedal in frontof him.

You head towards Recovery Ward.

Recovery Ward Genesis - Deck 13
34 ACH 6285 Souls

This is a large room holding over twenty bed stations for patients to recover after having treatment severe enough that they cannot immediately return to duty. Each station has various connections for medical equipment, a bed with collapsible railings, fold out table, adjustable positions and a privacy curtain.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: D'Artanion Eve Micah Novella
Exits: [O] Out [PR] Private Room

Eve steps out of Major Carter's private room, snicking the door quietly behind her. She pauses just outside, lungs filling up slowly through her nose, air then released slowly through her lips. She looks white as a ghost, but she's regaining her color with each careful breath.

The door to the outer room opens and D'Artanion comes in. She is carrying a smallish bag over one arm and a clipboard on her hand. Moving down the row of recovering, she pauses to speak to several of the Marines and a few of the Navy folk before she looks up and notes that Micah and Novella are awake. Both of them at once. It's a red letter day. Her attention is caught by Eve coming out of Reed's room and she lifts her chin in greeting. Must be a Picon thing. "Hey." Her tone is warm, "Good to see you. Sorry about the other day… Didn't mean to abandon you."

Micah lifts his eyes when he catches the Gunny's voice in the mix, and spots Eve in the same swoop. A nurse passes by, making her rounds with a few meds for the patients, and by the time she's out of the way, the pilot's turned his gaze back to the wall.

Novella offers a little finger waggle to D'Artanion. Indeed, if she can muster the coordination for something as normal for her as that, she's ready to go. Hey eyes flicker to Eve as the LT leaves the private room, but she doesn't say anything. Whispered questions have indicated that's the one she's supposed to see. Cav, thusly, does her best impression of being invisible.

Eve manages a smile, but it looks purely for D'Artanion's benefit. "Nothing I couldn't handle on my own. I think I'm becoming a pro at this." She offers a nod to Novella and Micah combined, before her attention focuses back on the medic. "Can I have a quick aside with you, Gunny? If I'm not interrupting…" Her gaze indicates a corner of the room, where they could speak in hushed tones.

D'Artanion nods to Micah and Novella, her smile quick and relaxed. Indeed, she seems almost as though she is going to head that way when Eve speaks again. Her attention is reclaimed and she nods, "Of course, Lieutenant." Glancing back to the pilot duo, she lifts a finger, eyes sparkling with quick humor, "Don't go away, you two, k?" Then, the Lieutenant gets her attenion and she moves toward the appropriate corner, "Or, if you like, we can step into the outer room?"

Eve shakes her head in the negative, and when D'Artanion is within range, she lowers her voice to a whisper.

You whisper, "I didn't have a chance to tell you last night, but I won't be handling the counselling of Saint Germain or Novella. Major Zaharis will see that matter taken care of." to D'Artanion.

The Gunny's sparkling mirth draws a slight twitch of Micah's lips, though one couldn't rightly call it a smile. Raking his fingers through hair that could use a cut, he flits his eyes toward the Lieutenant for a beat or two. And then it's back to brooding.

The blonder one looks to D and shakes her head. But she's eyeing those uniforms at the end of her bed. They're calling to her. Begging her. 'Put me on! Wear me out of here! This places smells like antiseptic and Marine! Noooooo..' But does she reply? No. Mainly because she's not on drugs and clothing doesn't talk.. most of the time. That and.. well.. D might hear her. Or see her try to escape. Timing is everything.

D'Artanion listens to Eve's whisper and pauses. Her expression goes briefly blank, but she nods. Gradually, her expression returns to it's normal cheerfulness and she lifts a hand to lightly touch Eve's shoulder, if allowed, "No sweat, Lieutenant. Thanks." She lowers her voice to add a quiet comment before flickering a glance back toward the patients.

D'Artanion whispers: I'll talk to the Major, then. Thanks, Lieutenant. Much appreciated.

D'Artanion and Eve are in the far corner whispering like scared cats or something. Meanwhile Micah is in his bed doing his best to not look excited that they're supposed to get out today. Noevlla looks spooked (kinda) about something but is eyeing the uniforms at the ends of their beds hungrily, plotting her escape before Zaharis ever makes his rounds.
The hatchway to the Recovery Ward opens, revealing a push cart that's preceeded by the smell of a couple of different foods. And, it would seem that the normal nurse has been replaced by Craven. Either that, or he's hijacked the cart and plans to hold the food hostage. Which, isn't likely as he wheels it further into the ward, apparently going to go about deliver people their meals. Stopping in between the first couple of beds, he givens the patients a quick smile and a nod of head before taking a deep breath, "Alright, we got: eel-kabobs, eel creole, eel gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There's pineapple eel, lemon eel, coconut eel, pepper eel, eel soup, eel stew, eel salad, eel and potatoes, eel burger, eel sandwich … " Gasp. Deep breath. Times two. "Gods .. that's a mouth full to say."

Eve certainly doesn't shy away from the touch, its the doctor's personal opinion that there is not enough kindnesses aboard the Genesis. "I'll speak with him as well. Hopefully, we can coordinate something so as to not knock the poor man completely off kilter." Her smile warms slightly, and all in all Eve looks better. The smile stays in place, as she moves over in the direction of the two pilots. Her attention, however, is centered on Micah's bed. She stops at the foot of it, hand toying with his uniform folded there. "Looks like they're finally springing you, hmm?"

Novella watches the food roll in with wide eyes. "Holy shit!" That probably wasn't supposed to be uttered so loud. Her stomach growls. IV feedings quit already. She stares at Craven and waits for him to get down to them before she looks fearfully to Eve as she approaches. But sighs a bit when she passes. Whew! Dodged bullet. She can harass her wingman all day if she wants. Though her hunger calls, though. Hopeful green eyes fall back on Craven. "El-Tee? Can I get some deep fried? Please, sir?"

"Looks like, sir," Micah replies quietly, watching the psyche finger his uniform. He's distracted momentarily by the other lieutenant and his hijacked trolley full of eel-based delicacies, and there's a brief flare of nostrils. There's something about food, any kind of food, when you've not properly eaten in days. "Back to quarters and light duty in a few days, aye." Novella gets a sidelong look and maybe a little roll of his eyes.

There's a murmered laugh between the first couple of patients and Craven and the Lieutenant can be seen giving a quick wink before he's wheeling the chart up towards Novella and Micah. Each is given a nod, followed by a quick smile towards Eve. When he looks back over towards Novella, he's giving a slight smile, followed by a shake of his head, "Sorry Ensign. Fooling around. Regular ol' fried Eel, though you can pretend it's deep fried."

Eve reaches out to pat Saint Germain's leg, nodding a bit absently. "See you around then." She cranes to look at the trolley of wheeled eel, and somehow isn't hungry at all. Novella doesn't seem to be on Eve's list at all, oddly enough. "Lieutenant." She nods at Craven, then appears to be excusing herself.

"You're killin' me, El-Tee." Novella tries to sound pathetic but really.. there's only so much effort you can put into something like that when its the Doc who saved your ass from bleeding out. "I'll take some anyway." Nervous eyes flicker to Eve as she makes her departure. Something is almost said but luckily fear takes over and she remains quiet. But a curious glance is given to Micah's fingered uniform and then him. Somewhere, just under the surface, a smart-ass comment is brewing.. bubbling.. rising to the surface.

There's a faint smile from Micah, but he doesn't meet the Lieutenant's eyes as she makes to depart. "Aye, sir," is all that seems forthcoming, and Novella's imminent smart-assery is met with a frowny face from the Ensign. Yes, fear the frowny face!

"El Tee." Craven's giving another smile towards Eve and then he's lifting a plate, turning back so that he can extend it over towards Novella, "Eat. Be jolly. I've heard a nasty little rumor going around." He leans in slightly, voice lowering just a touch, "I heard you're checking out of Hotel Recovery. I hope it's not because of the bad service." There's a slight grin and when he lifts back up, he looks over towards Micah, "Ensign. You hungry over there?"

Frowny faces are something Novella is used to facing down. Especially from her wingman. "So." She's biting back a snicker. And damn if its tough. If it were anyone else, she wouldn't care. But Micah is the little brother that needs teaching, so therefore she must act immature to set an example. But oh.. there will be comments later. In private. She's almost giddy with what is only a few hours off for her wingie. But that amused face turns back towards Craven. "Indeed I am, sir! But no, its not the service. Which but for the head chef's lack of visitation, is five star. I fear I have grown weary of my attire and bed. My feather-stuffed home calls to me.. my servant petty officers tell me that they have been keeping it stocked with fresh rose petals and the finest Aerelonian wine, though." She does her best to sound like an arrogant bitch, even faking the smile. But the plate is taken with a grin. "Thanks, sir."

You head towards Sickbay.

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