Ensign M’Hark slowly walked his way into the Brawley’s medbay, eyes scanning over the increased multitude of people. His eyes we’re searching ever so quickly for–

“Commander!” He beamed, hastily scrambling over to Sylvester. He looked better; more life in his face, no gaping stomach wound–all the things a healthy person should have. “You’re alive! Oh, thank god.”

“Ensign M’Hark. I am.” Sylvester glanced at him; his tone was unreadable. “I am glad to see you’re okay as well.”

“Well, with how strong we are combined? Of course we’d turn out okay.” Runt got a smug little smirk, examining his nails. “But, seriously. I’m glad we got there when we did, Commander.”

“I’m not.” He suddenly snapped. Runt jumped back a little bit, raising his hands ever so slightly.

“Oh–Commander, are you . . .okay?”

“No, Ensign, I’m not.” Even through his half drugged and recovering state, he was still insanely fast acting–slamming a hand forward and getting a tight grip on Runt’s pips.

“HEY!”

Shhrriiiip! He yanked backwards the fabric and nearly sent Runt lunging forward, throwing the pips on the ground.

“Mikhailov!” Amira snapped, suddenly standing up from one of the monitors. She had been listening in quietly so far.

“Do you know how dangerous any of that was? Do you not understand how many lives you put at risk–including your own?!” He hissed, sitting fully upright. Runt just shut up and looked at the ground. “Ensign M’Hark, you nearly got us killed a multitude of times, you disobeyed PLENTY of orders, and look where it got everyone.”

“This?” Runt motioned to the medbay. “Is not my fault, and I was going to save-”

“Save your friend Williams, oh my god, don’t we know it?!” He threw the pips on the ground, glaring with an intense, hateful gaze. “You’re done, M’Hark. Until Jetta can get her bearings together, and until you can learn to follow orders, I’m taking you off anything involving starfleet.”

“You can’t–” Runt tried to take a step forward, only for Sylvester to suddenly stand up. Amira hastily stomped over, standing in between the two.

“What has gotten into you, Commander?! He saved your life!” She stood directly up to him, glaring the man down.

“And potentially got all of YOU killed.” He spat. “I have the power here to do this as acting XO, and I will not have you try to speak down to me, Doctor.”

“The power t–Captain Dowe is still VERY much in good health and can perform her duties fine.” Amira spat right back. “You don’t have the ability or say for this. Not officially, until the Captain has the last word.”

“I. . . so I’m still…suspended?” Runt almost looked like he was in disbelief; well, no. He was. The Caitian looked absolutely devastated. Amira cringed internally as she turned around, facing him.

“I’m sorry, Ensign. For now; yes. But you won’t be, and this is a minor setback–you’re dismissed.” She put a sympathetic hand on Runt’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Take this time to sleep. You’ve been working countless hours down in triage.”

“…Yes, Ma’am.” Is all Runt said as he slinked out of the medbay without another word.

“We brought a charity case on board, then expected him to actually handle himself, and now you’re def–” Before Sylvester could finish, Amira backhanded him so hard in his snout he nearly fell over.

“What the fuck, Sylvester?!” She pinched the bridge of her nose as the Kizinti stood upright, holding his nose. “Charity case?? Suspension?????”

“Amira-”

“Since you want to be all powerful and enforce rules, that’s Doctor Sullivan.” She pushed an accusatory finger into his chest. “I don’t know why all of the sudden your mood has changed with Runt, but you have been more than accomadating for the crew in the past.”

“It’s a charity case!” He tried to speak.

“Charity case?? Sylvester, it’s a young adult with PTSD, not someone who needs everything handed to them on a silver platter!” Amira cried, still dumbfounded by this sudden venom she had not seen from the XO before. “WHY did you just suspend him?”

“Because this isn’t working for him! None of this is! This is actively going to ruin M’Hark, and I don’t want us to see that happen!”

“So you essentially bully an Ensign and suspend him?! What, are you going to try to make an appeal to Starfleet Command and forcibly transfer him to a starbase?” She scoffed, almost laughing at the idea. But then Amira saw Sylvesters face. “Oh my god. You’re actually going to do that?”

“…An active starship isn’t good for him right now. I’m planning to ask Jetta to relocate M’Hark to Starbase Bravo.” Sylvester crossed his arms.

“HOW do you know what’s good for him? And–Starbase Bravo? Where he had JUST come from? Commander Mikhailov, I do not know what has gotten into you, but you need to fix this.” She shoved another finger into his chest. “I have never seen you act like this about anyone. I don’t know if it’s the high stress situation, or some personal bias, but you either fix. it.” Amira jabbed the fingers in each time to prove a point. “Or I file. A. Complaint.”

“Amira, it’s whats best for Ensign M’Hark! I’ve seen it before–the, the ones unable to handle starfleet, and then getting people killed because of it. I won’t let that happen to another person without stepping in!”

“So you do it by screaming at him and ripping the pips off his uniform?” Amira sneered, genuine disgust for his actions apparent in her voice. “This is something much more than concern for his safety. I’m ordering you mandatory therapy sessions the moment you’re able to be in service again.”

“What?!” Sylvester nearly screamed. “No, absolutely not. HELL. NO. I am not going to a shrink just to get my mind picked apart for a problem I don’t have.”

“You’re going.” Amira started to walk to the door. “Because this?” She motioned to him. “Is not normal. Apologize to that Ensign, go to a therapist, and get a reality check.”

“Amira, it isn’t–”

“Cut the crap.” She glared at him one last time. If anything, she was holding back on the XO: In Amira’s experience with the man, he needs tough love. This was it. “And go see a therapist.”

The door closed without another word.