Part 2: Recovery

Dal watched through half-closed eyes as Tiger and Jack put the last of the anesthesia tanks back in their recharging case. "I hope we don't have to do that again any time soon," he muttered as he locked the storage door behind them.

Tiger stretched, a loud yawn escaping him as he did so. "You're telling me. Who knew arthropod osteology was so complicated?"

"Anyone who took third level xenoanatomical systems," Jack sneered.

"For someone who's specialty is diagnosis, you seem to have taken a lot of extra courses in school."

The Blue Service doctor shrugged. "A good diagnostician needs to know everything. I intend to be the best."

Dal let their bickering wash over him as he reviewed his stores and supplies checklist. It would take several hours to refill the tanks, and they'd used up quite a bit of tissue and growth plates on this stop. They'd need to schedule a restock trip soon, especially if they got a few more emergency calls like this one. Just thinking about prepping for another procedure made his hands shake.

"Dal?" Tiger's concerned voice broke through, drawing his attention away from his own exhaustion. "I just realized I haven't seen Fuzzy since we left the surgery."

Ignoring Jack's annoyed snort, Dal pointed to his coat pocket. "He cocked out like a light once we were done," he explained, cupping a hand fondly around the sleeping pink fuzzball that served as his constant companion. "He usually tucks in right after I finish sewing the patient back up, as if he's the one who's done all the work instead of just watching and waiting for it to be over."

"Well, looks like he's got the right idea," Tiger remarked, stifling another yawn. "After an eighteen hour operation I think we could all use a bit of R&R right now."

"Then what are we standing around here for?" Jack headed for the bunk room, calling back over his shoulder, "Don't be too loud when you turn in."

Tiger chuckled. "A bit like Fuzzy, isn't he? Thinks he did so much work, as if preparing grafts is the main deal in a slog like we just pulled. I just wished he had the little goofball's personality to match."

"He's not too bad," Dal protested, more out of habit than because he was conscious of any real feeling. Even a full month into their service as newly graduated doctors aboard a galactic patrol ship, he couldn't decide if his Blue colleague was really as arrogant as he seemed or just disdainful of his crewmates in particular. Dr. Jack Alvarez had made no secret of his complete intolerance for Dal since they first met. Once Dr. Tiger Martin made it clear that he disagreed and in fact considered Dal a close friend, Jack became distant and cool to them both.

His attitude hurt far more than Dal was willing to let on, but at the moment he was too tired to work up anything more than a distant resignation. "You should go on to bed," he advised Tiger, turning back to his checklist.

"What about you?" his friend asked.

"I've got to finish this paperwork, then check again on the patient." Dal blinked back his sleepiness, forcing himself to think about what he had to do. "We're going to need to order some supplies. I need to dry the microsurgical instruments when they come out of the wash. Put them away. Oh, and I need to check on the patient—"

"I think you said that already." Tiger reached for the checklist in Dal's hand. "Look, why don't you do that while I finish up the other stuff?"

"That's okay, it won't take long," Dal assured him. "Go ahead to the bunks. I'll be done soon."

"You'll be done even faster if I help. Just give me the checklist Dal. I can do that, I can't make sure the patient's recovering correctly. You're the surgeon on this ship, not me, remember?"

"Of course, but I can do it, really!" Dal protested, gripping his paperwork with all the strength he could muster and jerking back out of Tiger's reach. He hit the storage door with the back of his head, hard, and his gasp of pain was followed by a loud chirp as Fuzzy peeked out of his pocket. Waves of fright and shared pain radiated from the little creature, causing Dal to forget his own and reach down to hold him. "Shh, Fuzzy, it's alright, I'm fine." He stroked the warm fur as he sank to the floor, calming them both with each brush of his fingers. In very little time Fuzzy's shoe-button eyes closed, sinking back into his head as he rolled over in Dal's hands, dozing happily.

Tiger stooped down to join them. "Is he okay?"

"Yes," Dal said shakily. "He'll be fine, I just frightened him."

"He's not the only one." Tiger peered at him with anxious eyes. "Dal, what's the matter? All I want to do is help."

It was stupid, he knew, but he was too tired to offer a better excuse, especially to Tiger. "Stores and supplies is my responsibility," he murmured, still stroking Fuzzy, gathering strength from the contact even as the creature slept. Seeing Tiger's puzzled look, he continued. "Remember, when we divided up jobs? Jack didn't want me to do it."

Tiger snorted. "If he had his way you wouldn't even be on this ship, let alone doing anything here. What does that have to do with anything?"

Dal shrugged. "Nothing, I guess. I just don't want to give him the chance to say I goofed it up, or passed it off on somebody because I can't handle it. I wanted to prove that I can handle it, that I can be a good doctor." He blinked tiredly. "That sounded a lot more reasonable before I just said it out loud."

His friend shook his head, barely holding back a wide grin. "I'll bet it did, because you're this close to cocking out yourself. Dal, of course you're a good doctor. Do you think either Jack or I could have put that patient back together again, even after eighteen hours? I'll save you the trouble of answering: no! You figured out how to reconstruct his exoskeleton, you conducted the surgery, and you saved his life. The reports can wait. You don't see Jack in such a hurry to get his finished, do you?"

"No...." Dal admitted sheepishly. "But I still want to do it myself. And you can't handle the microsurgical instruments, they're very delicate."

"And I have big giant hands, I know," Tiger said, holding up his arms helplessly. "But don't you think that can wait until you've caught some shuteye?"

"I guess so." He tried to come up with another reason to resist, but couldn't find the energy to do more than nod, barely holding his eyes open. It wasn't until he felt the floor move beneath him that he realized Tiger had helped him up and was leading him to the bunks. "I can get there on my own," he murmured, already half asleep and trying desperately to hold on for just a little bit longer, slipping Fuzzy back into his pocket with what little cognition he had left.

"Sure you can," he heard Tiger rumble beside him, "but I happen to be going that way myself. We'll get there all on our own, together." Dal barely understood him, using his last reserves of strength to put one foot in front of the other, until he collapsed on his bunk in a grateful heap. His legs were lifted up and a blanket wrapped around him.

As he sunk further into sleep, Dal whispered, "Thanks, Tiger."

And just before he was unaware of anything at all, he heard a ghost of a reply, "No problem, friend."