text | c.fraser

[nineteenfortyfive]

Hello. I've met quite a few of you over the past month, but to those who haven't had a proper introduction yet, my name is Claire Fraser.

I thought I'd make it public knowledge that, as the resident doctor on board, if anyone has any medical concerns, please don't hesitate to contact me. This applies to wardens and inmates alike and discretion will be upheld at all times.

Mind you, this is not an invitation to bloody any noses, get into brawls, or try and get a peek at the locked cabinets in the infirmary.

Comments

[saklas]

Good. Then it won't be a problem if I hold you to it.

Can I meet you there?

[The promise of relief, now that it's here, is INCREDIBLY urgent.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Of course, Volk. I'll be waiting outside.

-> spam?

[saklas]

[He powerwalks there. He didn't bother with shoes, just socks - they're indoors, and the floors are always clean from the robots, so who cares.

(If he can feel what the floor is, he can tell that it's still metal, and not fire, or worms, or a sheet of pond water.)

If Claire is there already he'll push up his glasses and give her a tight smile.]

Hi.

[nineteenfortyfive]

Hello, Volk.

[She gives him an easier smile, letting them both into the infirmary.]

What can I do for you?

[It's easier in the medical sense.]

[saklas]

Just, uh. Could you go over there while I figure this out? I'm going to do nicotine patches for me and for Theo, and then some other stuff.

[Wait, hang on, is this Snow White coffin thing the Auto Doc? He was picturing a vending machine, like the commissary.]

Um. Wait, do I actually have to go inside of it? Has anyone successfully used this before and not suffocated?

[Suffocating sounds bad.

Dying in a sci-fi pod in a cloud of green smoke and emerging, horribly changed, into a monstrosity of magical medi-science? That's fine, that actually sounds low-key hot. He's not going to say that part.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Worried? I mean, I'm the other option if the Auto Doc doesn't seem so fun after all.

[Just saying, but she is stepping a little bit away to offer some sort of privacy.]

[saklas]

[Volk tucks in his chin and...

Runs the numbers. Totally untested and sketchy tube, or draw 25 tell someone what the fuck is going on with him?

Honestly, by far the most likely outcome is that this thing does nothing and he spends a boring five minutes. He taps the touchscreen attached to the bed

Regenerate, reattach, diagnose, thermoregulate...

Wait, some of these options are -

Volk backs up.]

This thing doesn't do drugs, it supposedly does surgeries. Fuck that.

[He swallows so hard that his voice box visibly wobbles at the front of his throat, pulls one elbow in towards himself with the opposite hand.]

Fuck that. Not for this.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Claire clears her throat. Motions at herself.]

Try me. I'm an antique, in comparison, but if you're worried about privacy--I can only give you my word.

[saklas]

Yeah, but this robot doesn't have an opinion of me.

[Volk lets out his breath as a hiss, cards his hand through his hair.]

Look, you know I need SSRIs, and that's going to be every month for as long as I'm staying here. There's no abuse potential for that, no one takes fucking Zoloft to roll face. Is there anything in a cabinet here I can use as a nicotine patch? Maybe if we wave it in the air Theo will come out of hiding.

[nineteenfortyfive]

What does my opinion have to do with anything?

[As for the rest--]

Can you give me a day to figure something out for you?

[saklas]

Everything, I guess. Not just you in particular.

[He tips his head.]

Um. Yeah. A day sounds fine for that.

[Volk, for the first time in a long time, sheds his coat and sets it on an unoccupied bed. One reason he likes it becomes obvious; he's got some real rotisserie chicken shoulders under there.]

Okay, look. I'm not going to stick anything in my pockets. No pockets. Can I look through what's in here with your supervision? You can check me after I leave.

[nineteenfortyfive]

What do you mean?

[Claire sighs as he takes off his coat.]

With my supervision. [Which means standing beside him.] I'd lose my job if this were a hospital.

[saklas]

If this were a hospital, I could call my actual doctor.

[The guy who prescribes him shit.]

Okay. Deal.

[He's going to start looking through the stock. Notably, he's a lot more careful than he was the first time he was in here with Claire and Silco - but he starts in the same place. Neuroleptics and major tranquilizers, the kind of stuff you give to an ER patient that's trying to wrestle nurses to the ground and bite people's fingers off. Antipsychotics are in this family, but so are a lot of things.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[She's making a mental note of where he begins, and whatever might catch his attention.]

I might not be your permanent warden, but I will be a permanent fixture here.

[Seeing as the number of wardens with medical training is... scant.]

[saklas]

A month - a month is a month.

[Cryptic, maybe.]

With something chronic, a new doctor means starting over. Especially if I can't prove what I've already tried, and on what doses. And if I have to see you every day, and you're also my landlord - князь, nobody designing any of this gives a fuck about conflict of interest, do they?

[He's picking up things, checking them quickly, mechanically putting them to the side. No. No. No.

There. He knew they'd have it. Haldol is one of the 100 most important medications on the planet, something like that. Penicillin for infections, ibuprofen for pain, quinine for malaria, and ninety six others. He closes his hand over the name but ...

It's liquid, in an IV, not the form he has any idea of how to dose himself with. Even if he did get ahold of one, how the fuck would he do it alone? Every day, for as long as he's stuck here?

Volk lowers his head until it bonks against the brushed-steel countertop.]

We've talked, but that doesn't mean you trust me. And I don't trust you. It doesn't need to be personal.

[nineteenfortyfive]

You're right. It doesn't have to be personal. So, I can be your doctor, your warden, your landlord--all at once. I'm able to look at you as a patient looking for care. I've had more years than you've been alive to practice how to compartmentalize.

[It's how she's able to operate on the people she loves without having a monumental crisis.]

You're right about trust, too. We hardly know one another. But, maybe in time, you can come to at least trust that I have no desire to screw you over?

[She tips to the side at her waist, trying to peek at his face.]

unreality 1/3

[saklas]

[He laughs, not expecting to hear her saying something borderline-crude, and turns his head to see her. He refuses to cry twice in front of the same person. REFUSES.]

I don't think you want to. I think I'd be a second priority, over making sure that everyone knew for everyone's safety, including mine. Something sensible like that. Something I probably couldn't even argue with.

[This was inevitable, wasn't it? There was only so long he could hide this, and only so long he could handle not mentioning any time there were murmurs, shadows, rot and rust.

Every conversation has been underlaid with white noise, for Volk. Every moment alone has been punctuated with muffled voices laughing in the empty room. The halls will sometimes look like a spaceship - sometimes. More often they'll be riddled with skittering insects, worm-bores, soft spots like a browned, over-ripe fruit. There have been spider-webs over his hands and face when he's woken up, insistent and un-removeable. The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a Hell of Heaven, etc.]

2/3

[saklas]

[He stands. His body language becomes closed, professional. He straightens to his full height, as modest as it may be. He intends to play until the ship goes down, something dramatic like that.]

3/3

[saklas]

[.................................Nope, too scary. He rips the sticker label off of the IV bag.]

Whoops. Okay, so, I was taking this orally twice a day in two milligram amounts, don't worry about what it is, everything's fine. If this was straight-up cyanide, I don't even think two milligrams would kill me. Two milligrams of cocaine is like, what gets lost by accident when you cough. I don't know why I said that. I don't do cocaine, I don't need more anxiety. The point is, this is basically no amount. It's nothing. It's a placebo, if you want.

[Volk hands her the bag. Ta daaaa.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Claire takes the bag but holds out her hand for the label.]

You're doing a lot of talking when you could make this much easier by just telling me what you'd like. What you've been given, what's worked, what hasn't. I can wait and see what gets replenished in that cabinet, label and all, or you can just be upfront with me.

[She takes a big breath. Not quite ready to sigh, yet.]

There will be doctor patient confidentiality here, Volk. Even if--I don't know, William is your next warden, I wouldn't be telling him your business when it comes to the infirmary. I would only make sure he knows this is where you need to be, sometimes. Does that sound reasonable?

[saklas]

I can't.

[Volk is looking across the room, not at Claire, his arms folded.]

I thought I could, but I can't. I even want to. It's practical. It'd make my life easier. If you find out, then you do. I can't stop you from finding out.

[He wishes he had kept his coat. The stumps of his fingernails dig into his arm until the knuckles go white.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Why can't you?

[She asks gently, frowning.]

I can assure you that whatever you fear might happen, the absolute worst, will not.

[saklas]

Because it kind of makes me want to throw up.

[Being just frank, here. He's not having a panic meltdown, he's just... hit the limit of his emotional courage. End of Line.

He hasn't even told his parents.]

[nineteenfortyfive]

I've had worse on me.

[Sort of a joke, kinda maybe.]

I do like you, Volk. If that counts for anything.

[saklas]

I don't know you, honestly. I've got no idea if I like you.

[Volk laughs.]

This ... this sucks. This is a choice between the two things I was most afraid of and it's just so fucking mundane. Compared to anything else going on right now, it's not even the most important problem. And I still just-

[Shrug. Can't. Can't make himself not be a coward.]