JP LtCmdr Yogan Yalu & Ens Hiro Jones — 🎶 Dr. Jones and Me 🎶

[Yogan Yalu]

(( Sickbay, Deck 7, USS Artemis ))

As he predicted, the Quadrant’s biggest charley horse awaited Yogan when he awoke from stasis. The styrolite casing vanished in a straight head-to-toe vector down his body, which prevented him from stretching his leg to relieve the cramp. He clenched his eyes and waited for the discomfort to pass.

Yalu: ::growly:: Ouch.

Jones: Ouch is a good start.

Yogan opened one eye. The styrolite casing just vanished over his tummy and the cool, dry air of sickbay energized him. He opened the other eye.

Yalu: There’s nothing in any Trill spiritual text about leg cramps in the afterlife. ::beat:: So, unless I’ve gone to Bajoran Hell by mistake, I have to conclude that I’m alive. ::grins:: Confirm or deny, Hiro?

Hiro borrowed a facial tic from his Vulcan roommate. He was completely comfortable with informality - it put patients at ease, and perhaps this was inspired by the relief at finding himself still with a heartbeat, but it was nevertheless a surprise.

Jones: Confirmed … Yogan. ::slightly smirking::

Yalu: Sorry, I meant, Doctor Jones. It’s just——

Yogan stared up at the Human doctor. Jones’ expression ignited a chain reaction of memories that all felt out of place—like an old-style hard drive badly in need of a defragmentation.

Yalu: Did we—?

Jones: Let me cut you off. Based on your brainwave activity, I believe whatever you experienced was … weird. That being said, I’m happy to talk about it, but you are under no obligation to share your dreams. Here’s the reality of the situation.

Hiro gave a broad-brush summary of the treatment he and his team administered over the last 63 hours. At several points, Hiro raised a finger in pause so he could stifle a prodigious yawn before continuing the debriefing.

Jones: So, when we were sure the neurotoxins were neutralized, all we had to do was jump start your central nervous system. Sorry about the muscle cramps. They’re an unpleasant byproduct. I ::yawn:: can give you something to help with those if you’d like, but you’ve been injected with half the stuff in sickbay already.

Yogan shook the cobwebs from his head, the gesture doubling as a "no thank you." Sixty-three hours of being pumped full of Trill-knows-what was more than enough pharmaceutical intervention for Yogan.

Yalu: You were there. I think. The whole time. It was—weird—but I feel like I know you, or maybe that you know me. It’s a little disorienting.

Jones: The disorientation is to be expected. You’ve been through something of a metaphysical ordeal. And considering there’s the host and symbiont to consider, I can only imagine the kind of plurality your dissociated psyche must have splashed around in. oO If only I was still a counselor, that would make an outstanding research paper. Oo

Yalu: I just have two questions. First, am I fit to return to duty?

Jones: Let’s … wait until tomorrow. Technically, yes. You could return to work now, but it’s almost 0200 hours. Get a good night’s sleep. ::beat:: But you said there was another question?

Yalu: Would you like to grab a sandwich sometime?

Hamsan: ::peeks around the corner:: Did someone call my name?

Yogan chuckled. It had been a while since he’d last spoken to Crewman First Class Hamsan Dwich, the medical technician and ex-vedek who served as Excalibur’s chaplain. Yogan was pleased the poor, naive Bajoran boy had transferred to Artemis with the rest of them.

Yalu: No, Crewman Hamsan. ::smirks:: As you were.

Dwich disappeared behind the bulkhead, leaving Jones and Yalu alone again.

Jones: ::chuckling tiredly:: He’s a good man. Been here for the whole procedure. His shift ended six hours ago. Anyway, you’re welcome to stay the night in sickbay or head back to your quarters when you’re feeling up to it.

Yogan slid down off the biobed and settled into a shaky standing position. After two-and-a-half-days lying plasticized in Sickbay, nothing sounded better than his own bed. Offering Hiro a handshake seemed insufficient, a Hug seemed overkill. They'd been through an ordeal together, but that ordeal had been a figment of Yogan's drug-addled imagination.

Yalu: Aside from giving me top notch medical care in the real world, you were also a hell of a companion in my fever dream. We’re already friends in my head, and I’d be delighted to make that equally true in reality.

Jones: It would be my pleasure. But I don’t think Mr. Ranger would like it, Yogi.

Yalu: ::ashen:: What?

Jones: I said it would be my pleasure. Maybe you should stay the night here. We’ve got more comfortable beds though. Right this way.

End.

Lieutenant Commander Yogan Yalu
Second Officer & Strategic Operations Officer
USS Artemis NCC-81287
D238804DS0

Ensign Hiro Jones, MD
USS Artemis-A, Medical
E239510KD0