Summary: Reed is in a coma after the PAS explosion. Over his first hours, Rhea, Ramiro, and D'Artanion come to visit, and Zaharis pieces together bits of a medical puzzle.
Date: 31 ACH
Related Logs: Desperate Times

Private Room Genesis - Deck 13
31 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.

Zaharis heads down the recovery room corridor towards Reed's private room. It's been a few hours since Reed was wheeled in here, but it couldn't have been helped. Following the surgery the CMO had literally passed out on the floor of the OR. Now back on his feet, albeit barely, his right arm finally bandaged from elbow to neck and nested in a sling, and face carefully cleaned of glass and gauzed. Fatigues shirt left in the office, he brings Reed's chart into the private room and comes over to stand by the Major's bed. He glances over the beeping machines and then down at the comatose body. And of all things he could say? He just shakes his head slightly. "You douche."

Reed is lively, as in, he's alive. you can tell due to the banks of monitoring equipment set up to watch over him. He's unresponsive though. His brainwaves showing a high Alpha wave, generally considered the brain lock waves, while his Gamma, the ones that register Conscious thought, are low, making feeble little ticks on the screen. He doesn't seem to respond to being called a douche.

Zaharis will call him that when he wakes up too, have no fear. He sets the chart down in its metal frame and sits down, very stiffly. He's not looking at the brainwaves, just sitting there for a while. His face is still pale. "Know what they say," He says finally. Idly. "If you're going to do, do it with a frakkin' bang. Not you. You'd better not. But the PAS…gods, rest in pieces." A quiet exhale through his nose. "Rhea and Reece are okay. Thought you might want to know that. Rhea wasn't over there, but Adele got Reece out. They're safe."

While Reed lays there, impassively as his Gamma waves react barely with a .005 reading maximum. a small rise, that drops back after the voice quiets.

Zaharis' eyes shift tiredly to the readout. Then they go back to him, a little unfocused still. He scratches the tip of his nose, just sitting there in silence for another few seconds. Then he looks back at the meter. "Rhea. Reece and Rhea. Happy to hear they're okay, huh? Yeah, me too. I texted her a few minutes ago. Sure she'd like to see you."

Reed reed breaks out in a sweat as his temperature begins lowering, the low grade fever he was going through breaks. Expected for GI surgery post op. the Biotics he's on working to quell the infection flare up. A good sign. His Gammas tend to react lowly still, reacting to the voice. Still, if it's consciousness or just reacting to noise, it's hard to tell.

Zaharis doesn't seem to care which one it may be. He rubs the tip of his fingers across his lip, watching the meter until it drops again. It's just one of those vaguely speculative looks, made a little fuzzier by the strong pain meds they put him on. "So Rhea should be along soon, I expect. After she gets a chance to see Reece-…" He stops as his handheld beeps. Pulling it off his belt with some effort to move, he glances at the screen. "Hey, that's her. You ready for some more company? You look like shit, sorry, but we did the best we could do. Least you don't need a shave. I'm going to let her in, okay?" As if Reed could answer or something. He still asks, his thumb tapping buttons.

Zaharis slides the handheld away as soon as he's done typing, and rests back carefully against the chair. He lets his eys close for a few seconds, breathing through the threat of gray around his vision, then opens them again. "Let's see, who else…Ramiro. I saw Ramiro. He helped get people off the PAS with us. Came running through the medical bay like a frakkin' hero." His tone is amused in a bittersweet sort of way. "He got out, I saw him catch a shuttle."

The door opens as a nurse comes in on time with the maintenance dose of biotics and drugs prescribed. She pauses, "Oh, I'm sorry sir." She says, hesitating, not knowing the CMO was in here.

Zaharis raises his head slightly, nodding to the nurse. "No, go ahead." He's not getting up though.

The nurse nods, moving to the other side of the patient, setting the metal tray down and takes the needleless syrenge, twisting it into the port on the IV, sending the drugs into the line going into Reed. She looks to Zaharis, "Can I get you something sir?" She asks in a moment of concern for her superior.

Rhea comes in from Recovery Ward.
Rhea has arrived.

In the VIP room, Reed has been laid out by the medical team to rest comfortably. And sans active brainwaves. He's surrounded by machines monitoring every function of his body, a dark blue blanket with the GENESIS emblem laid over him from chest down. Zaharis is in a chair by the bed, pale, heavily bandaged, and with his right arm cradled against him in a sling. A nurse has just come in to tend to Reed's meds, and the CMO shakes his head subtly at her question. Though then he pauses a moment. "Actually." He clears his throat of the hoarseness that keeps plaguing it. "Would you…talk to him for a second?" His loose left hand makes a vague gesture at Reed. "I don't care about what, just do it. Like ten seconds."

Rhea slips into the room. She tries to be reasonably quiet about it, though the ChEng has a habit of clomping purposefully everywhere she goes. So even her attempts to slip clomp. The bed dominates the room, so it and Reed are the first things she sees. She intakes a sharp breath, looking away. Hands clasped tightly in front of her. "Lieutenant Sloan said you were injured," she notes to Zaharis. "Couldn't fit that into you freaky little message?" She tries to smile at him but utterly fails.

The nurse pulls the syrenge from the IV port and nods, "Yessir." She looks to Reed, thinking a moment, "Major? Major Carter? Ma-" She looks at the chart, "Major Reed Carter? Can you hear me? It's Specialist Flanson, I'm your nurse. I'm from Cancerion. I have just given you your loader dose of biotics and perscriptions." She looks to Zaharis, ad Reeds Gamma waves spike twice at the beginning of that, once to .009 and then to .012 and slowly drop off as his Alpha waves fluctuate, and then begin resettling. After She looks to the door as Rhea comes in and she straightens.

"I'm fine," Zaharis answers Rhea absently, his eyes having sharpened on the monitors. As much as they -can- sharpen considering how much painkiller he's loaded up on right now. As the readings spike, he sets his left hand on the chair to force himself to sit up. A very bad idea from the expression of pain that goes across his face, but he's barely paying attention to himself. "Oh, you frakker…" He says under his breath, looking at Reed. "…you're in there, aren't you, Reed Jameson Carter." The man's name is said at normal volume. He glances up at the nurse and nods his thanks, then motions Rhea over with his fingers.

"As you were," Rhea mutters vaguely to the nurse. In case her standing is somehow rank-related. She doesn't look at the woman, or the bed. She hesitates a beat but finally follow Zaharis' motion. Eyes fixed on the CMO. She reaches out to put a hand on his uninjured shoulder. She'd probably hug him more fiercely, if she wasn't afraid of breaking him. "Reece is okay," she says. Which he may know better than she does, but she's talking to fill up the air just now. "He's with Adele on the Carina. I talked to him briefly. Over wireless. I thought he'd be safe on the station, Jesse, I thought…" She trails off as her voice gets thicker. Deep breath. She pauses for a beat. "The Genny's running well. What my crew can do under pressure amazes me. Such good people. Not that the raiders were really aiming at us but… ship shape and sound of wind and limb here." She's sort of babbling.

Reed remains inert as his Alpha waves continue to shift in their patterns, changing irregularly as the Gamma waves continue to register, spiking up to .029 before lowering slower. The nurse nods back to Zaharis, then to Rhea as she leaves. Way over her paygrade, this, and there's the big 'Get the frak in here' button ever ready in case someone needs a team. As Rhea babbles, his Gamma waves hover around the .015 mark.

Zaharis doesn't even notice the nurse going. Poor nurse. From the way he's watching that monitor one might think he could make it spike just from willpower alone. He finally lets his back rest against the chair when he has no choice; the gray's encroaching around his field of vision and it's either let up on the muscles or pass clean out. He lifts his left hand, feeling for Rhea's fingers on his shoulder. "Saw Reece and Adele get off. Not your fault, Rhea. It's not. He's okay…he's gonna be okay. Everyone's gonna be okay…" He gently squeezes her hand and looks back at Reed, a little unfocused. "Rhea. Say Reed's name."

Rhea's looks over at Reed's monitors, though she still can't bring herself to look at Reed proper. She idly squeezes Zaharis' unbandaged shoulder. It's a comforting gesture, though whether for herself or the CMO she doesn't seem entirely sure. Her hands are a little dirty, as they tend to be. She's come fresh from Engineering. "They blew up my Cylons," she says suddenly. As if it just occurred to her. "I was just getting settled into that lab. I liked my lab. I loved those engines. You don't get it, Jesse, and I feel sorry for you because of it. An engineer could die happy if they got a shot to work in an engine room like that. I remember watching that thing jump…gods. Such a light. Took the breath of me." She pauses. "When's he going to wake up?" She doesn't say anyone's name.

Reed lays there, not commenting on the loss of the labs. His Gamma waves continue to hover around the .015 mark, with a single spike to .017 while Zaharis talks. The alphas are still all over, but refuse to smooth out into a regular pattern.

"/Say his name/." Zaharis' voice doesn't get any louder but it does get more intense suddenly. Did he even hear a word Rhea just said. "Say it. The whole thing, say it."

Rhea closes her eyes for a moment. Her fingers tightening. She takes a deep breath. "Why? He's asleep. He can't hear us. What's the point? When is he going to wake up, Jesse?" Not that she waits for an answer. Bracing, she forces herself to open her eyes and actually look at Reed. She shudders a little. "Fine. Reed. Major Reed Jameson Carter." Something seems to occur to her as she says that. It makes her chuckle. Albeit a strained sound. "Reed Jameson Carter, you let the toasters blow up my robot corpses, you stupid frakker." She curses the ones she loves.

Reed doesn't move, doesn't react, just a small line on a screen rising to the level of .045, then to .052, and holding those levels, slowly sliding downward in little squiggly lines.

Zaharis laughs under his breath, just a single time first and then a bit louder. It's happy in its way but it's a weird sound, a little off the wire somehow. "Look…look, did you see that. That." His finger crooks at the monitor. "That's him, that's Reed in there. He hears you. His name, he hears his name…his…shit." His left hand fingers press against the ridge of his eyebrows, his face pinches. "Reed Carter. What's his…frak what's his…Dayne and Angie." The names come out of nowhere. "Hi-his brother and sister, Dayne and Angie, right Reed? No, no that's stupid, he didn't even…"

"That's a machine, Jesse, measuring electrodes or…what the frak ever you measure," Rhea says. She doesn't look at the monitor. Now that she's forced her gaze on Reed, she can't seem to look away. "It's funny. I never realized…we have the same initials. R-J-C. I mean, we don't now but…my maiden name. Rhea Jo Carey. Reed Jameson Carter." She shrugs. "It's just…funny. Doesn't mean anything. Not even my name anymore." She tilts her head at the names. "His niece and nephew? He said he had twins. Or one of his siblings did."

Reed lays unmoving as his Gamma waves slowly slide back down, the mountain range of his brain impulses cresting slightly a few times, making a few valliant attempts at remaining up, with a spike going back to the previous levels before beginning another slow fall, tapering down.

"Fine, frakking machine, whatever, it doesn't frakking matter. He hears it. His mind's doing something in there." Zaharis rubs his hand over his face. "Uh…Nancy and Gwen. Twins. Angie's kids. Nancy and Gwen." He starts to laugh again under his breath, that same edgy, kind of unpleasant sound. "Should read his terraforming books to him. Probably keep his interest more than his family. Reed Jameson Carter. What else did you give a shit about? Gaelan. Major Pieter Gaelan, your friend, Reed. Kelly. Major Reed Jameson Carter, I know you're in there. Asshole."

"What's wrong with him, Jesse?" Rhea asks, very quietly. "Why isn't he waking up?" She lifts her hand from his shoulder. Looking down at her palms. "Can I…I don't know. Hold his hand or something? I just…things seem more solid when I can put my hands on them. He looks so small like that."

Reed keeps laying there, unmoving as his Gamma waves continue to do a little dance to the sound of his name, a few other responses to other things, but it's most noticeable with his name.

"Because he's not asleep." Zaharis lets his free hand rest across his waist. His eyelids are heavy, threatening to drift shut, but they open again when he moves his head. "He's in a…a coma." He falls silent a few moments, his eyes shifting up to watch the brain monitors again. "You can touch him. Go on."

"You sure? I don't want to…hurt him or anything. Seems like he's plugged into everything…" Rhea steps closer to Reed's bedside, reaching out her fingers to run down his arm. Coming to rest in his hand. Her fingertips grasp his tentatively. "Reed? Reed. It's Rhea. I'm here, okay? Don't think you're going to duck out on us this easy, frakker."

Reed is warm, breathing, but unresponsive. Except for the little line of his Gamma waves, which take a sharp rise and hold on a plateau of .055 for several seconds as Rhea speaks. Marked change from the spike and fall he's been displaying thusfar.

"Say it again, say his name," Zaharis is watching the monitor, trying to force his eyes to keep their focus on the little green lines. "Say his whole name…say…tell him what you're doing with his hand, Rhea. Describe his and your hands to him, connect it for him, what he's feeling out here and what's he's feeling in his head." He's kind of fog-babbling. "Keep saying his name."

"You feel alive…" Rhea murmurs, raising her other hand to lay her fingertips briefly against Reed's temple. Then down to touch his cheek. "You're just fine, Reed. You're just a lazy, gold-bricking, rear echelon mother frakker." She forces a soft chuckle. "I'm right here, Reed. I got you. Jesse's here, too. He's going to fix you up. You aren't alone, okay?" She blinks, trying to keep the moisture out of her eyes. Without much success.

Reed remains unmoving and unresponsive, as his Gamma waves slowly make a climb to .059 as he lays there, hand in Rheas hand as he seems to simply lay there taking the abuse heaped on him by his loved ones.

"Higher…" Zaharis says under his breath. He presses his hand against the chair arm, sitting up straighter again to watch the monitor. "Rhea. Tell him what your hand's doing. Tell him where it is on his face. Move your hand around like you were…describe it to him while you do it, what you're doing. Give him a connection in there."

"You're not really, though, you know?" Rhea says softly, focus on Reed, running her thumb gently along his cheek. "REMF jokes aside. I just think they're funny. I have a lousy sense of humor. If my ass was on the line, and my snipes, I'd much rather have you in charge than some idiot Marine. You're strong, Reed. And you're smart. And you give a damn about the people under you. You're such a good man. We need you…" She lifts her right hand from his face, briefly. To wipe the tears from her own. Her left stays laced around his fingers. "I'm standing beside you right now, Reed. I'm holding your hand. I wish I could do more. I wish I was better at…fixing things like this. This is why I like engines. Way less complicated than people. Maybe I'll just start kicking you until you start again. But I don't think the CMO would approve. He's kind of a pansy that way."

Well, Reed doesn't object to the idea of getting kicked till he comes to, but it does seem his Gamma waves crest at .060 and hold steady. They maintain that level as Rhea talks to him.

"Higher." Zaharis is not surprised at that. He goes silent, letting his head rest back. She's got the hang of it and she's the one he's listening to. His brown eyes just watch the monitor, hazily.

"Look at you. I should take a photograph. I can slap you with it if you ever start with that Zeus complex BS of yours again," Rhea says softly. Heaping more abuse. She closes her eyes for a moment. Stop crying, woman. "Your station was beautiful, Reed. I loved it there. Working in your labs, stealing your coffee, watching my son play in your rec room…you put so much of yourself into that place. Well. Anyhow. Now you can concentrate on making something else beautiful. There's no shortage of work left for you to do, I'm sure." She looks down at his hands. Her finger tips idly tracing along the lines in his palm. "You look exhausted," she notes to Jesse, finally turning her head up toward him.

Reed remains still and peaceful as his Gamma waves continue to hold for the moment in the .060 range, keeping that level as Rhea speaks, and maintaining it once she breaks off.

"I'm not." Zaharis replies, shifting in the chair. He does manage a drugged-looking smirk. "But I'll take the hint and leave you alone if you want to talk to him in peace." His eyes drift back to the monitor, checking it again.

Rhea shakes her head, smiling faintly up at Zaharis. "No. Stick around. I feel like I'm babbling to the walls. Which is kind of nice. They don't argue. Besides, you're an excuse not to curl up in the fetal position and weep." Kind of a joke. Kind of not. Her eyes go back down to Reed, fingers still tracing along his palm. "My dad used to say you could tell everything you needed to know about a person by looking at their hands…Jesse, how long is he going to be like this?"

Reed isn't giving any clues how long he'll remain in a Coma, no. His Gammas reach .059 and level out.

"Can't tell." Zaharis replies. The cottonmouth makes his speech a little slurred. "Day. Three days. Week. Month." Or never. But he doesn't say that. "Don't know. But." He nods slowly towards the monitor. "Brain's working. It's there, see? It's doing…something. S'why I want you to tell him how you're touching him. So he can know…what his mind's registering is real. That's the path back."

"Frakking gods…" Rhea murmurs. It's unclear whether she's cursing the gods themselves, or just engaging in general profanity. She presses her thumb into Reed's palm. Not hard, but firm. "This is me, Reed. Right here." She sighs. "I want to take care of him, Jesse. I don't even know what that means. I don't know what I feel right now. I just…there's been this dull rush in my head ever since the attacks. He makes it quieter."

Reed stays inert, unconscious, but his Gammas had slipped to .058 and now move to .059.

Zaharis shrugs his uninjured shoulder, very slowly. "You know exactly what you feel. You just told me. It's not a bad thing, Rhea. It's not a sin…it's not…your feelings aren't bad. You know? World's all frakked up, and well…you got to let go and let yourself feel. Cause shit, there might not be a tomorrow at this rate." His head turns, rolling against the chair as he watches the monitor, noting the tiny drop and pickup, and he can't help but find something stupidly funny in this drug haze. "Gods, what a frakkin' diva. Reed." He calls over towards the bed. "Reed. Stay with us, buddy."

D'Artanion comes in from Recovery Ward.
D'Artanion has arrived.

Reed is, well, laying in bed, somewhat unresponsive to the commentary floating around, his brainwave monitors showing an irregular Alpha pattern and a more steady pattern hovering about at .059

Rhea is standing by Reed's bed, holding on of his hands in hers. Her face is tear-streaked though she's not crying just now. Her expression is difficult to read. Zaharis is nearby, in a chair, monitoring Reed and looking beaten up in his own right. "Everything's frakked up," she agrees with Zaharis softly. Out of nowhere she asks, "You believe in the gods, Jesse?" Really out of nowhere. Rhea never utters a religious word and stares daggers at any chaplain that utters them to her.

Zaharis' chair is right next to Reed's bed. His skin is still unhealthy pale, and from the way his eyes don't quite stay focused he's probably on the good painkillers right now. "Yes." His attention comes down from the monitor, to Reed's face, and then to Rhea.

While there might be a tap-tap on the private room's door ordinarily, there isn't this time. Men in comas can't call for someone to come in and the other occupants are unknown to D'Artanion. She slips in almost backwards, a comment aimed over her shoulder, "Har de har har. Don't worry, funny boy, I don't get mad. I get even." Turnins, she lets the door close behind her and her gaze sweeps the room. The light hearted bantering dies as she looks at the man on the bed. Then, she spots Rhea and Zaharis and kind of freezes, "Oh. Excuse me. I was…" Well, she is carrying a guitar case and an extra chair, so her intent might be obvious, "I… uh… I can come back later."

Reed does indeed, fail to call out for whoever to come in or go, but, you know, Coma, he has an excuse for being impolite.

"I don't know if I do or not," Rhea says softly. "The scriptures, I don't have any use for. I believe there's something…beyond us. Basic physics. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed. But I'm not smart enough to ever know what that is, and I won't pretend to be. What do you believe, Reed?" She moves her fingertips along his hand again. "He made some comment to me once. About…Aphrodite, or something. I didn't ask. I tend to pick fights when it comes to religion. Ephraim used to go temple sometimes. Light a candle to Zeus s. He wasn't exactly observant but I think he got something out of it. And he didn't care that I didn't." She blinks at the sound of banter, looking up at D'Artanion. "Gunnery Sergeant. No. Please. Not like there's much to interrupt." Coma and all.

Zaharis doesn't say anything to all that. He's not really in a state where he could argue. Or he could, but it'd be pretty funny to listen to. His head snaps up as he hears the voice of someone from staff, his working left shoulder forcing itself back into some semblance of straightness. "Gunny. Hey, come here…want you to do something for me 'fore you play somethin."

D'Artanion nods to Rhea, her smile faintly sheepish, "Yeah, well… Might not be interrupting the Major…" She indicates the comatose fellow with a nod of her chin, then continues, "Might be interrupting you and Doc. It isn't every day that someone gets him to talk about things other than medicine." At least, not in her experience. Blinking, one brow lifts as she turns to the man in question. Er. The other man in question, "Sure, Doc." Setting the chair out of the way, she rests her guitar gently nearby, then stands and walks to Zaharis. "What can I do for you, Major?"

Reed just lays there, resting impassively. His EEG reads Alpha waves in an irregular pattern, and Gamma waves at a slowly decending arc at .057 and is falling steadily.

Rhea chuckles softly at D'Artanion. Though it's a rather forced sound. "Jesse? He has a rich and dirty social life, Gunny, I assure you. Be glad he doesn't share more." But she can't keep up the lightness for very long, her attention going back to Reed. "Reed? Hey…What do you think? You a temple-goer? We can still be friends if you are. I'm a tolerant sort."

Zaharis lifts his chin towards the bed. Or rather, the monitor above the bed. "Lesson in comas, Gunny," he says, in the slight slur of morpha. "Bottom line are Alpha waves. Synchronous and coherent electrical activity of thalamic pacemaker cells in the brain." How he can spit that out right now, who knows? "Top…gamma. Consciousness as we know…perception. See it sliiiiding back down now? Goes up sometimes, when he hears his name or something he recognises. Want you to talk to him, okay? Say his name…his name's Reed Jameson Carter. Say his name and talk to him a little bit."

When Zaharis indicates the monitor, D'Artanion's gaze lifts to take in the show. Slowly, she nods, "Figured I would come in and do that when my rounds are over, Major. That's why I brought the extra chair." Meaning? Until the man snaps out of it. Facing Reed rather than the monitor, she flashes Rhea a quick smile, then reaches to lightly touch Reed's free hand, "Hey, Reed." Her tone softens a little until it is almost melodic, "Looks like you're in a bit of a spot. Do you remember the Night of Veils?" She glances at Zaharis then, though the look does not linger. "Do you remember what you told me?" Ah hah. Going to come back and bite the poor comatose fellow… But, she does not go on with that line of communication. "I brought my guitar. I have no idea what you like to listen to, so we'll take it slowly. Though I do expect you to let me know later, yeah?" She pauses for a moment, then chuckles, "Did your mother call you Reed Jameson Carter when you were in trouble? My father used all three names to get our attention. I think it's a universal parental thing."

Reed lays there impassively, while his Gamma waves dip into the .034 section and spike a couple times as high as .045. Still, the Gamma activity appears different. Spikes and valleys in a lower level than before.

"It gets the little frakker's attention," Rhea says wryly, as to the three-name thing. She approves of it as a parental whip, clearly. She manages a faint smirk down at Reed. "What *did* you tell her on the Night of Veils? Not going to get away from that one. Reed Jameson Carter. Frakking polished Caprican name if ever there was one." Much love behind her cursing. She looks back at Zaharis, for some sign of what the monitors mean.

Zaharis is busy drawing his own drugged conclusions from the changes in Reed's brainwaves. Oh boy, that's quite a smirk that rolls onto his face. "Spike…do it." He whispers, right as Rhea states Reed's name again.

D'Artanion looks up at the monitors as Rhea speaks Reed's name. A nod, "Yeah. Father thought it was great. Though he would occasionally substitute nicknames. There is something truly mortifying to be called 'Blondie' by your father in a crowded Commisary." She rolls her eyes, then refocuses on Reed's face. "Reed. Jameson. Carter." Silence, then she sighs, "That name sounds like it should have a 'the third' or something after it." Turning to Zaharis, she adds, "Shouldn't you be lying down, Doc?"

It seems that the stoned doctor is getting good at predicting the spikes of Reeds Gamma waves. The ongoing spikes and valleys of the Gamma patterns do have coordinated causes in the conversations. His name, sounds of voices, things of that nature. There's a medical paper in this somewhere.

"Nicknames are a sign of affection," Rhea says firmly to D'Art. "I love my Sprocket." Her son will no doubt make good use of Dr. Sloan's therapy couch one day.

If only there was still a medical board to appreciate it. Oh well. Zaharis is intent on the monitor, hazy as it may be every time he blinks. "Things he knows…that's what's bringing him in. Got his name…voices he knows…there's got to be more. Got to be more. Got to be…" He broken records with that for a couple seconds before realising he's doing it. "Are you touching him, Rhea? Hold his hand again. Someone." He rolls his head a little, squinting at D'artanion's question. "No." Back to the monitor.

D'Artanion glances over at Rhea, then shrugs, "Maybe. But…" She laughs then, "Sprocket? You call your son 'Sprocket'? That is lovely." Yes, even in the face of catastrophe, the woman can laugh. It is a joyous sound, filled with warmth and mirth. Reaching over, she takes Reed's hand in hers once Zaharis gives the order. Looking back, she smiles at the man, "Meaning 'yes but mind your own beeswax'. Got it." Her attention turns to Reed, then and she purses her lips, "Uh… I don't know anything about him, really. Uh. So… Reed Jameson Carter. It's a good name. Strong."

Reed lays there, Gammas wiggling along the screen in the .035 area and holding steadily, the spikes and valleys evening though his name still picks the level up to .042 before sliding back down.

"Hey, my dad used to call me Spark Plug," Rhea defends to D'Art. "I turned out all right. I'm carrying on a family tradition. Reece is the most important cog in my machine." She laces her fingers through Reed's again, raising her other hand to touch his temple. "Reed Carter?" She snorts. "Needs more z-sounds to be a proper name. I like it okay, though. Reece is okay, Reed. You kept him safe. I knew you would. That's why I wanted him on your station."

Zaharis is finding the monitor a bit hypnotic. Beep. Beep. Lookit the lines go up and down and up and…whoa, down. He unglues his eyes back all the way open. "No, no, no. Don't just…talk. Like men listen to women -talk- about stuff." Yeah, he's stoned. "Tell him about something he knows about. Bring up…stuff he knows about. Rhea yeah, that's good."

D'Artanion flashes a glance at Zaharis and nods. "Yeah, we know that, Doc. Men don't listen. It's one of their least charming features." Looking back to Rhea, the smile returns and is brighter, "Reece is okay? That is very good to hear. He's a good kid. Smart. Takes after his mom, I guess?" Lifting her gaze, she focuses on the monitors as the doctor tears his gaze away. "I'll have to just answer, then, Doc. I don't really know anything that Reed cares about. Other than the PAS and those aboard her." Which might not be a very good topic.

Indeed, as Rhea talks, the Gammas lift to .045, then to .051 before beginning to drop off again, slowly.

Rhea nods a little to Zaharis, maintaining her hold on Reed's hand. "You'll never know how grateful I am for that, Reed. You gave him a good home." Which is gone now. A concern she'll have to deal with later. To D'Art, she nods. A shadow crossing her face for a moment. "He reminds me a lot of his father, actually."

Ramiro comes in from Recovery Ward.
Ramiro has arrived.

In the room, which is intended for one bed and so rather small, the ex-PAS's CO lies on his bed, motionless. Surrounded by machines that are keeping excellent track of every one of Reed's bodily functions from heartbeat to urine output, and a particular machine near his head has a readout of little squiggly green lines.

Rhea and D'artanion are both standing by Reed's bed, Rhea holding Reed's limp hand as they all talk. Zaharis is sitting in a chair right nearby, bandaged up, pale, and looking a bit fuzzed in the head. As Rhea changes tack, his eyes roll back up to the monitor to check on the strange moving lines. "Just talk to him, Gunny," he says. "Just tell him what you'd want him to know right now. He just needs…things…drawing him back."

A nurse had informed Ramiro that it was okay to come in, but Ramiro still does so sheepishly. Starting with his head, Ramiro steps in wearing new Sergeant's insignia. Looking like he's been through hell (and more than likely has), he steps inside quietly to look at Reed. Flattening his lips, he quickly wipes the display off of his face to be more accomodating. Like most people entering a recovery room, he has that look of immediate concern with a side helping of worry that he shouldn't be in there. He starts to pull a small carved idol out of his pocket.

Even though it wasn't mentioned, D'Artanion is holding Reed's other hand. She has been watching the monitor over Reed's head for a while now. "It…" Her gaze flickers to Rhea and her smile is a subtly quiet thing, "It is not my voice that's making the difference, Doc. It's the Major's." She blinks once, then looks back at Reed, "What would I like him to know?" She shrugs once, then draws in a breath, "So, Reed. You should wake up now. There are folk who need you. Folk who care." Looking over one shoulder, she focuses on Ramiro for a moment, "Hey, Sarge? Another promotion? Congrats. You'll be passing me in no time."

Reed is indeed, just lying there, inert, looking asleep, though the two women holding his hands seem to be talking to him and he's just laying back. On the monitor, his Gamma waves continue to shift around in the high .040's and move in small squiggles. Really, he's fairly boring to look at now.

Rhea goes quiet for a moment. Looking down at Reed's face, fingertips doing that idly tracing in his palm again. Lost in thought. Ramiro's entrance is a welcome distraction from whatever's in her head. She turns her face toward him. It's tear-streaked, though she's not crying now. Still, the ChEng is normally a composed creature, so it's more than a little jarring. "Corporal Ramiro. Your pupil is gold-bricking. Typical rear echelon mother frakker." She curses with love. She blinks. "Excuse me. Sergeant Ramiro. Gaelan has good taste."

"I don't care, Gunny," Zaharis replies to D'artanion, letting his head rest back. "Whoever's in this room is going to do what he needs. And that's what he needs." As the focus shifts to Ramiro he turns his attention back down to Reed's face, splitting his wobbly attention between that and the monitor.

Stepping up to the edge of the bed, Ramiro gives D'artanion and Rhea a weak but sympathetic smile. He doesn't salute, but he does find a place at the side of the bed to set a small idol of Apollo. He says a whispered prayer to the idol before turning back to Reed and the others. He swallows and folds his arms behind his back. A bit of weakness crosses over his eyes as well as he watches Reed. "Well…he may be my star pupil, but he's my mentor." Ramiro nods, looking to the others. "I'm…not interrupting, am I?"

D'Artanion nods, "No worries, Major." She glances off to one side where she put an extra chair and her guitar. "S'why I brought the instrument. I thought some music might help." Again her attention focuses on Reed, "Course it would help if you would tell me what you want to hear, Major. Er. Reed. Do you like… Classical guitar?" She lifts her gaze to watch the monitors, "Rock? Folk?" After each offering, she waits to see if there is a spike on the monitor. Without turning, she adds, "Do you sing, Rhea? I could accompany you." For an instant, she flickers a glance to Ramiro, "Nah. Come over here and say hello to Reed Jameson Carter." Gently releasing Reed's hand, she makes room for Ramiro, "Take his hand so he can feel as well as hear that you are nearby."

Zaharis has gone completely silent in his chair for now, his posture gradually slouching as he uses his good arm to help cradle the one in the sling. His eyes watch the monitor and sometimes, it seems, straight through the monitor. Watching for those spikes, those clues. The little things that might give more hints as to what the mind really latches onto.

Reed doesn't seem to be spiking his Gamma Waves at his preference in musical styles. However, as Ramiros voice is heard, there is a sudden spike to .058 before it falls back down relatively quickly to its .050 level, where it seems to keep its level.

Rhea barks a short laugh when D'Artanion asks if she sings. Exchanging a little look with Jesse. A preemptive 'Shut up' sort of glance. She clears her throat. "Not particularly. Give us tune, though, Gunny. Reed strikes me as a Caprican contemporary sort of fellow. I always preferred Tauron jazz myself, but that's not the same without the flute. Any requests, Reed?" She eyes Ramiro's idol. Expression unreadable. But she doesn't comment on it. "Of course not, Sergeant. Major Carter has a lot of respect for you. He's glad you're here, I'm sure."

"You have got some strange hard-ons, Reed," Zaharis mumbles under his breath, keeping a fuzzy eye on the monitor as the voices around the bed continue.

"Allright…" Ramiro replies, rounding around the bed to stop at the side. Taking Reed's hand in a handshake grip, he takes in a deep breath to decide what to say. "Allright Major. I wanted to drop by to let you know that I made Sergeant. Looks like I'm doing something right eh?" He says with a little nervous chuckle. "I want to let you know though while I'm here, that you're like an older brother to me. A much older one." He chuckles. "I'm going to keep dropping by and checking on you as long as they let me, you understand? You come back, allright? I need a compass…we all do. That and Major Zimmermann can't shoot for shit and I need someone that'll get me results."

D'Artanion takes a half step back, then another and her smile might seem a little off kilter, "I can wait, Rhea. It looks like Reed wants to talk to the Sergeant." She turns a smile to Ramiro, one hand lifting to clap his shoulder lightly. Her attention is caught by Zaharis' slumping and she looks over her shoulder, "You know? If I take my guitar and that extra chair out, I'll bet we could get a cot in here. You could stretch out a little, Doc. That way, you can keep monitoring Reed's progress and give your spine a bit of a break."

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Rhea says firmly. As to the cot. Zaharis is just eyed. "How many pain killers did they give you?" She's regaining more of her composure and bluff, bossy air now. She's got an audience. Can't cry in front of the Marines and affirm the Navy's reputation. She chuckles softly at Ramiro's words. "That's slander, Reed. You and I both know my shooting is, indeed, utter shit. At least I can weld out my own dents, though."

Reed remains motionless and inert, though it does seem his Gammas rise to the .055 range, and evens out there.

"Can't see well if I lie down," Zaharis tell D'artanion. He doesn't actually look at her, so it's doubtful he even registered who spoke to him. Rhea's comment makes him squint at her, irritably. "I don't know, enough to kill some pain?" He swipes the back of his hand across the end of his nose and glances back at the monitor again. His mouth seems to thin at the level now, thinking. "Ramiro," he speaks up. "Say his name. His whole name. Do you know it?"

D'Artanion says, "No, but you won't fall down either." Turning, she collects her guitar and the chair and eases past Ramiro, "Excuse me. I'll be back with the cot." Glancing at Rhea, she smiles, then focuses on Reed, "It is Reed Jameson Carter. Give it a try, Sergeant. It rolls off the tongue nicely." Easing the door open, she slips out, "I'll be back in a sec."

f"Yes…Reed Jameson Carter." Ramiro replies, smiling wryly with a hint of sadness to his voice. He looks to Reed. "You hear that, Reed Jameson Carter?" Ramiro replies. "Look, man…I'll level with you…" He starts, speaking quietly with the Major. "When I was on my way back to the Genesis I scooped up that damn parrot. I don't know anything about parrots but I'm going to guess it's a 'he'." He pauses again. "You're a military man, Reed, so I know what you need is a direction, a game plan. So let me set one up for you, allright? When you're up and out of bed, you and I are going to get some coffee. It's terrible coffee, but it's worth it in the mornings isn't it? I've got some questions I might need to ask about a project the marine brass put me on. Sure, I can do it myself, but asking you the few questions I didn't have have any direction on never fails. You got people here that are family, Reed." He pats Reed's hand and leans off of the bed, looking around. "I'm gonna let someone else get a word in edgewise, allright? Had to bribe a Lieutenant to get in here…I'll see you tomorrow, Reed Jameson Carter." He finishes, taking a step back and trying to get an idea of the damages.

Reed doesn't respond, however his Gamma waves do register a few spikes and dips through Ramiros talk that seem interesting. the spikes during his name aren't surprising, but the slow climb in the gammas during parts of that talk from Ramiro are noteworthy.

"Tell them I said let you in my office," Zaharis calls after D'Artanion. "Get my computer. Don't come back without it." And Rhea thought she was bossy. He braces his good shoulder against the chair, glancing at the monitor as Ramiro finishes his words. Taking notes. Though his short-term memory is hosed tonight, so D'art better hurry her butt up.

Rhea crooks a faint smile at Ramiro. "There you go, Reed. You got yourself a mission. Get to it. Don't embarrass us in front of the Marines." She squeezes her thumb gently into his palm again. "Feel that? That's your ass being kicked." She watches his monitor. Unable to make proper sense of it, but she watches anyway. It beeps. She can grok this easier on a mechanical level.

Ramiro looks from Zaharis to Rhea with a lost look on his face. He's not prepared to fix this although the look on his face would say that he doesn't understand why. Chewing his lip, he looks back to Reed. He simply says something again. "You know, Reed…that double tap idea you have is gonna work I think, but I need the rest of that idea. You told me you were gonna feed me some data." He pauses. "We might be able to adjust firing pins to accomodate. You got anything to comment on that, buddy?"

Zaharis watches the monitor. Watch, watch. His teeth rag on the side of his lower lip, his eyes narrowed on the monitor screen as he tries to make his mind work through the fog. "Ramiro," he suddenly says, out of nowhere. "Do something for me. You've taught him to shoot. Pick up his hand…treat it like you were showing him how to grip a weapon on the range. And keep talking, describe what you're doing out loud."

That is when the door to the small room opens once more. D'Artanion ushers a cot bearing orderly in and motions to the side of the room where her guitar was. While the orderly sets the cot up, D'Artanion walks around to Zaharis' side of the bed. Setting a computer near the doctor, she adjusts the power cables and then takes a half step back, "I'll be in the Recovery Room if you need anything. It is going to be crowded in here and some of the patients are going to need meds in a few." Turning, she smiles at Rhea and Ramiro, then turns to the patient, "See you later, Reed."

Reed doesn't call out goodbye to D'Art, but wouldn't it make everyone jump?

Rhea tilts her head at Ramiro. Quiet now. Listening to him talk shooting. With some reluctance, she unlaces her fingers from Reed's hand. "Here you go, Sergeant. He's a lefty. Might as well keep this realistic." She shifts a little but doesn't move too far, her hand moving up to brush Reed's forehead, then rest against his temple.

"Thanks." Zaharis rises awkwardly from his chair, trying to keep the right side of his upper body still. He walks stiffly over to the laptop, cot going completely ignored, grabbing two of the cords in the back. Those are connected to two things — Reed's heart machine and his EEG. Working left-handed only, he taps keys until he accesses what he wants, as he waits for Ramiro to get busy.

D'Artanion leaves for Recovery Ward [O].
D'Artanion has left.

Ramiro nods to Zaharis, stepping back over to the bed. He gives Rhea a smile as he passes her. "Well I suppose we'll have to do our lesson now, Reed." He pauses. Picking up Reed's wrist after trading places with Rhea, he looks to Reed's hands. Watching for signs of life, he puts on the same tone that he did while instructing. "Allright, Reed Jameson Carter. I was thinking about your CP M57-FA pistol with the ERL attachment." He pauses. "When you fire, your shots tend to gravitate to the left because you're overcompensating for the difference in weight. When you grip your pistol, you grip it high, which is good. I want you to watch what I do. I make sure the very top of the grip is where the webbing between my thumb goes and curl your fingers around. Pay attention…because this is important. When your middle finger slides underneath the trigger guard I want it up there tight, but separate the middle and ring finger a little bit. This might put more emphasis on the top-weight." Ramiro says, teaching Reed.

Reed lays there as his Gamma waves make a steady climb as his left hand moves, fingers curling in slow jerking movements.

Zaharis lowers the little tray table as he sits back down, Reed's heart rhythm and brainwaves now replicated on his screen. Along with what looks like an audio program, showing peaks and valleys of sound waves as the third band across the screen. From the little light up at the laptop's centre, it might even be recording video too. He rubs his fingers over his lips, focused on the screen as Ramiro does his thing, then his brows twitch upwards. He looks over the top of the screen at Ramiro, eyes a bit wider even as he keeps his voice hushed so as not to interrupt too harshly. "Did he just move his fingers? Shit! Frak yes, keep going!"

Rhea blinks down at Reed's hand as Ramiro works with him. Practically holding her breath. "That's it, Carter," she murmurs. "Get those frakkers."

Ramiro swallows, excited. "Yes, just like that Reed. Reed Jameson Carter. Major Reed Jameson Carter. Now…do you remember when we fired those shots? You shot once left of the X-ring, then to the right, and then to the center again? I want you to listen very carefully. Take a few shots, adjust to the weight. We'll see where they land." He pauses. "But I need you to listen, because what I'm about to tell you can be used to save lives. Important lives. Major Rhea Zimmerman. Major Zaharis. Sergeant Dane Falcus Ramiro." He pauses. "When you fire, just before you do, you have to concentrate and focus your muscle memory to slack just a little bit before your shot. You need to beat it out of your brain that you cannot control this pistol. You are the master of this sidearm, Reed-Jameson-Carter." Ramiro pauses. "Fire off a few shots. Tell me how it feels."

Reed lays there more or less unmoving, though the left hand tenses as his trigger finger flexes, though it doesn't relax, it maintains its tension as the muscles in his arm tense.

<Trait Roll> Ramiro rolls Firearms and achieves a degree of BeyondSuperb (7).

Zaharis is barely breathing as he watches the screen. "Come on…" He mutters. "Come on, Carter." Above Reed's head, one of the other monitors that shows numbers instead of waves increases a little bit in the middle of Ramiro's speech, emitting a quiet beeping sound. Zaharis glances at it and then back at the screen, his brows drawing. Concentrate, CMO, concentrate. "Saving lives made his heart rate go up," he says, just loud enough for the other two to hear. "Yes…yes yes -yes-, keep going, Ramiro, break that shit down for him." His good hand is almost clenched into a fist.

Rhea would be praying, if she were a different sort of person. But she's a militantly agnostic sort, so she does not. She does keep her fingers in gentle contact with Reed's cheek, eyes fixed on the monitors. Her gods are in the machines, and she's trying to translate the lines and beeps properly into her brain.

Ramiro watches Reed's hand moves, a thoughtful look on his face. "You're doing full auto…" He says, changing his tone to approvingly. "…now remember, the weight of that gun is fifty grams heavier than my own personal sidearm. Remember what I told you?" Ramiro squeezes the wrist, pulling it a little to point straighter. "Arm braced. This weapon will save lives Reed Jameson Carter. When a Cylon is bearing down on you, you will have to make every round count. Remember what I said? If you can't fire a single shot accurately, you can't fire two and hit. Well guess what? You graduated single shot." He pauses. "Reed Jameson Carter…I'm sliding a new target out. This target is a Cylon Centurion. This Cylon is going to hurt Major Rhea Zimmerman and Major Zaharis unless you get off your frakking ass right this second and put it down." Ramiro says forcefully. "Fire a burst, enough to say the word 'die'. NOW!" Ramiro hisses. "Do two bursts. How many bullets Reed Jameson Carter? How many bullets do you have left for the next one?"

Reeds hand twitches as a sudden rumbling exhalation comes from his chest, a hard sound, but a sound.

With the three bands showing Reed's EEG, heart rhythm, and Ramiro's voice at the same time, Zaharis is watching closely. His eyes narrow at something in particular as it scrolls by, and he runs his tongue over the cracked corner of his lips. "Ramiro." He glances up, keeping his voice quiet. His left hand makes a slight pushing motion towards the ground. "Get off the Cylons thing, I don't want him tensing up too hard."

<Trait Roll> Zaharis rolls Medicine and achieves a degree of Good (4).

"Easy, Reed. Easy," Rhea murmurs. "You got it. We're good. We're safe." She looks between Ramiro and Zaharis, then back at the monitors. "Is that good? I can't tell. This damn thing speaks medical jargon. It's one of your demon machines, Jesse."

"Allright Reed Jameson Carter. Sound off that round count again. Your ERL is chambered." Ramiro stands, slacking off the urgency in his voice quite a bit.He squeezes the wrist. "Visualize the attack. Lead the target. We've talked about this before. The initial volley of rounds punches a hole into the target. Good job on the burst. Now for the ERL. Let the dots on the iron sights blend in. Adjust your aim slightly lower and to the right of the X-ring. Your wrist is going to snap when you squeeze the trigger and there will be millimeters of change when it starts to kick off." He pauses, not answering Zaharis, but definitely listening. "This weapon is a gift from the man that made me Sergeant, Major Reed Jameson Carter. Sound that round, make it sing."

"Think Ramiro was triggering memories," Zaharis mumbles to Rhea as he rubs his hand over his mouth. His eyes are glued to the screen. "Probably touched on what Carter was looking at when he went down." His finger taps part of the audio scrollback connected to a particular flurry of brain activity. "Ramiro." He shakes his head slightly. "Stop for now, he's gotten worked up. Don't want him busting stitches if he moves."

Reed relaxes as Zaharis speaks, Gamma waves settling down to a steady .067, and holding there. The pattern changed drasticly, much higher than before, and more stable. Reed settles into peaceful non movement as Rhea can feel light moisture on his forehead and temple.

"You did good, Sergeant," Rhea says softly to Ramiro. "I think. Got a little life out of him. It's over now, Reed. You're safe. We're looking out for you now."

Ramiro lets his voice soften. "Good, Reed Jameson Carter." Ramiro replies. Lowering Reed's wrist, he lets out a slow breath. He changes his voice to a calming one. "You did good on the range today, Reed Jameson Carter. We'll practice again soon. Lower your weapon and I'll check out the training ammunition." Ramiro says, slowly backing away from Reed. He lets out an excited, yet frustrated sigh. He pauses and rubs his face with both hands, letting out some tension. "Frak…" He whispers. "…felt so close." He looks to Rhea and Zaharis. "He was going on his own. Going full auto, ERL. I was following that carrot." He offers them both a flat smile. "Thanks." He says, pointedly to Rhea.

Zaharis presses his closed left hand against his mouth, exhaling slowly through his nose onto his knuckles. "Know how if divers come up too fast from very deep water, they get the bends? Not exactly what we're looking at here, but close enough analogy. Don't want to shock his system too hard at once, but…I think maybe we just got a hell of a lot closer. And…" He taps his screen with a knuckle. "Know a lot more about what might've happened to him. I need to analyse this better. Maybe try again tomorrow with a little different tactic…I need to think a little. You did real, real good, Sarge." He gently scratches a hand through his hair and then crooks a finger at the EEG readout above Reed's head, which is holding steady. And not falling. "If you don't believe me, look at that. .065. Couple hours ago that was flat. Quivers, nothing else. That, my soldiers, is an active brainwave now."

Thank you," Rhea repeats simply to Ramiro. She steps back from Reed's bed a notch, but only to pull up a chair. So she can settle in to hover properly. She cracks a faint smile at Zaharis. The decimal points are lines are terms she can understand. "Good. You mind if I stay? I…I don't want to leave him alone like this, y'know? I can keep talking, if you think that'd help."

Ramiro nods reflectively as Zaharis speaks, chewing at his lip. "I feel good about that. Whatever helps the man. I pay him much honor and respect." Then, suddenly, a look of concern crosses over his face. "Major Zaharis…the full auto on his pistol, followed by an ERL shot…" He pauses, folding his arms across his chest. "That was his contingency plan if he had to put down a Centurion." Ramiro notes with a bit of nervous, conspiratorial fleer. He swallows, speaking quietly. "That's one of the things we were working out on the range. He wanted his full auto more accurate…"

Reed lays there, seeming inert, though when Rhea takes his hand now, his fingers tighten around her hand.

"Sounds like he got to use it." Zaharis says to Ramiro, under his breath. He peers again at the screen, his eyes completely bleary from the hours and the pain that's starting to buzz loudly at the edges of drug-induced grace. "Alright, let's…I need to think about this. Got to think. Ramiro, buzz me when you're off-shift tomorrow." His thumb gently rubs his temple, and he nods to Rhea. "S'fine." Sure, it's breaking a Sickbay rule or two, but it's good to be the King.

Rhea intakes a breath when Reed grasps her hand. Smiling. Her eyes getting misty again. She blinks. "That's good, Reed. I got you." She smirks at Zaharis. "You rebel. Thanks." She settles in her chair, tucking her legs up under her. Boots on Zaharis' nice Sickbay furniture.

"I will, Sir." Ramiro replies, running his hands over his face one more time. Fatigue setting in, he's had a large amount of exhaustion over the last week and two days. Stepping back, he nods to Rhea and then Zaharis before turning and slipping out.

Zaharis pulls his headphones up onto his head, covering the left ear only. The right's left free for if people like, need him or something. He leaves Rhea to the task of soothing Reed — cause even he gets it that even in a coma, the man wants his wimminz — and sets about starting to review his video and audio of the session with a fine-tooth comb and his medical files.

Reed just lays there, being boring.

Rhea thinks for a moment, trying to dredge up something soothing to talk about. "At least we have the PAS engine specs. So it's not a complete loss," she says. Engines are apparently her idea of soothing. "Before…well, everything, I was thinking of modifying the Genny's propulsion system to use some of the innovations you'd managed to put into place there. What I was thinking was…" And she rambles about creative propulsion. Such is her way.

Zaharis can think of better reasons to be typing one-handed. The things he does for friends, seriously.

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