“Welcome to your new office!” Nichelle beamed, far too excited for someone who was technically at work, and gave Arys a well-meaning nudge.  “Do you like it?”

Arys stumbled. Regained her balance. Blinked twice.

The office was… certainly a room. Bigger than the repurposed closet that had been her last one. Smaller – significantly – than the one before that.

She looked around. Walls that were really hard trying not to just be white, shelves without anything on them, and a chair that had turned its back to the desk as if refusing to get to work. Pleasantly bright, about as personal as receiving a ferengi discount coupon and landed squarely in the sweet spot of “adequate”.

What a relief.

“It’s nice.” Arys said. And she meant it.

“Far away from main sickbay, just like you asked for.” Nichelle commented and leaned against the desk. She brushed her hand over the surface to clean away some imaginary dust.

This was the brand new counselling wing of DS-4’s sickbay. Courtesy of the Vaadwaur invasion, and most of the crew believing that they were going to die.

“I appreciate that.” Arys said, then added a hasty “I like it.” – just in case the former comment hadn’t done the job.

She still wasn’t used to this – being back in uniform. In an office. With patients that were here voluntarily and not-
… nope. Not thinking of that.

She turned to Nichelle.

“I owe you everything.”, she said. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

Nichelle, who was technically her junior by a few years, offered a smile. Something between sisterly and maternal.

“Gladly. Your help during the attack was… more than I had expected, honestly. And who knows – perhaps you can return to sickbay.” A pause. “When you’re ready for it.”

“Sounds daunting.” Arys admitted.

Sounds terrifying, was what she meant.

“One day at a time.”

“Yeah.”

Nichelle clapped her hands. “Oh. Almost forgot – got you a housewarming gift.”

She awkwardly reached over the desk and turned the chair around.

A plant sat in the middle of it. Green. Upright.

Doomed.

Arys tilted her head. “I’m awful with plants.”

She’d once been gifted an orchid by a former XO. The only reason it had made it past the first week was that she had stuffed it into a mobile stasis unit.

Perfectly preserved.
Somehow, though, it had still managed to die.

“You’ll manage.” Nichelle said, nudging her again.
“Maybe… I don’t know, give it a name? I name my plants.”

Weird, Arys thought.
“Sure.” she said aloud.

She looked at the plant.

“I’ll call it Bob.”

“… Bob?”

“Bob.”

“Right. Not what I expected, but… Bob it is. Just remember to water it-… him?… and give him-… it? Plenty of light.”

“It’ a ‘he’.” Arys said solemnly. “Light and water. Got it.”

“I’ll send you a list of patients to follow up with. Home visit, mostly. Easy start.”

“Sounds good.”

Nichelle smiled and headed for the door. “Well then. I’ll give you some time to settle in. Bye, Bob.” She waved at the plant, not at Arys. Fair. The plant was probably more likely to wave back.

Then she left.

Arys exhaled.
Home visits. No surgeries.  Still a doctor.
This was fine.

She picked Bob up and sat him on the desk.

“Don’t die.” she told him.

She was thriving, and so was Bob.

Arys had proudly told Nichelle that taking care of him had become part of her routine.

Water for Bob. Coffee for Arys.
A miserable day for both of them if she ever mixed that up.

“He’s not sick. He’s pretending to have a cough.” Arys rolled her eyes as pushed her PADD over to Nichelle, who had come to check how she was getting on. “And he’s not good at it.”

“That’s Ensign Frels for you.” Nichelle sighed. “Cut him some slack.”
She paused. “But if you’re getting bored, how about you join me in sickbay and-…”

“And probably run away screaming. No thanks. Let me pretend being normal for a little while longer, okay?” Arys interjected quickly. Definitely not panicking. Nope.

“I get it.” Nichelle nodded, letting the comment slide. She probably had enough paperwork as it was. “Who else do you have on your schedule today?”

“Let me see.”

Arys glanced at the readout of her terminal. “Miller, C’xic, Figasta… Oh, nevermind, they’re for tomorrow. Today is just Velix.”

“Look at you taking on the hard cases.” Nichelle said with parental pride.

“Yeah.” Arys replied, deciding not to mention that she had chosen her patients depending on how interesting their names sounded.

“So you got an early afternoon today. Same here.” Nichelle pondered. “I was going to visit little Risa, take a walk, look at trees. Want to come?”

“Are you asking me because Keller doesn’t have time?” Arys teased.

“I’m asking you because you are my friend.” Nichelle insisted. “… and that Jonathan isn’t available has nothing to do with it.”

“Suuuure.”

“And don’t forget it again. Put it onto your calendar if you have to.”

Arys rolled her eyes, but saw the wisdom in that. “I will.”

She theatrically spun her chair a full 360-degrees until it once more faced the console, ready to make that reservation, when she noticed a notification. And froze.

A single message.

Arys, Nestira is injured. We’re on our way. 

— Alasafor. 

No hello. No please. Just a demand.

She reread it. Hoping the silence between the lines would say something else. Perhaps an apology. Or an acknowledgement. She found neither.

“What is it?” Nichelle asked, craning her neck to see. Perhaps she could sense that something was up. Perhaps not.

Arys hadn’t spoken to Nestira and Alasafor in two years. Last she had seen them, they had been hunted. She had protected their location. A little too successfully.

They had enjoyed their freedom. She had been forced to take people apart.

“Nothing.” Arys said. She deleted the message.
It didn’t go away.

Alasafor could have asked anyone. Anyone. He came to her.
Arys rose from her chair.

“I… I better get to that appointment.”

“Is… everything okay?” Nichelle asked.

“Yeah.” Arys nodded. Her voice was calm. Nothing else was.
She squeezed her eyes shut, then looked up at the ceiling.

“Do the lights seem weird to you too?”

Nichelle followed her gaze. “They look fine to me.”

Bob was still green –  although Arys had dropped him once and forgotten to water him twice.

“I apologize.”  she said as she poured lukewarm water into the now chipped ceramic pot. “It’s been a full week, you know what it’s like.”

It sounded like an excuse, and it was. But not a lie. Busy wasn’t even beginning to describe it.

Bob didn’t respond.

Thankfully.

Otherwise he might have said something. About appointments. About extra patients and projects. The fact that she hadn’t slept in days.

But Nichelle had been enthusiastic about Arys’ progress – about how much she was getting done. So this was good. Right? She was doing good.
Though after Arys forgot their walk through little Risa, she had stopped coming by.

Arys sighed, and leaned back in her chair. She looked up at the ceiling.
Bob needed light. So did she. But everyone told her the lights were fine.

She’d logged a ticket with Engineering to get them fixed, but only received an automated reply that response times were ‘slightly longer’ than usual.
On the still-damaged space station, lights were a low priority issue.
And that made sense. She could still work. It was just a little more difficult.

And a very helpful addendum: troubleshooting steps she could try in the meanwhile.
Step one – turn the lights off and on again.

Thanks a lot, Engineering. 

“It’s not too bad. Just a little dim.” Arys told Bob. 

She took a sip of coffee – not even noticing it tasted suspiciously like water.