Further Damage

 Month 14 Day 28

1211 Hours

Dr Drake MacGregor

 The mood at the lunch table was... strange. Strained? Maybe tense? Drake wasn't sure what word described it. Smitty was completely preoccupied and tended not to respond until the 3rd or 4th time his name was used. Jane was testy and then contrite for being testy. Drake felt that he preferred being alone for this meal, during which Smitty's preoccupation was a constant irritant to Jane.

"Smitty!" Jane said again, and perhaps she kicked the engineer's foot under the table.

"Hmm?" The tactic seemed to work; Smitty actually raised his eyes to look at her. "Yes, Captain?"

"I hear you've got MacDowell on light duty for a few days. How's she doing with it?"

"Fine," he answered. "She seems to be picking up the paperwork almost as fast as any other aspect of the job."

"Even with only 1 hand to use?" Drake asked.

"Well, I haven't been watching over her shoulder," Smitty answered. "But one-handed hardly seems to have slowed her down, once she understands the paperwork."

"Good to hear," Jane told him, and went on, lest he get lost in his thoughts again. "What aspect of engineering is she least adept at?"

"What?" Smitty seemed surprised by the question, and then flustered. "Well, I... I don't know that I can say, captain. She hasn't been in engineering long enough for me to have made a full appraisal of her skills."

"Really?" You usually have your doubts by the time they've been there a week. I haven't heard you express any doubts about this one at all. Not recently, anyway."

"Here she comes," Drake stated. Holding her tray in her left hand and hardly limping at all, Mac followed Harris as they threaded their way across the mess hall floor in search of a table with room for them. And then, Drake could only watch in horror as an inattentive crew member scooted away from his table, sending the back of his chair into Mac's injured thigh.

"Oww!" The redhead hopped on her good leg, trying to retain her balance. It was no use. Drake reached out to grab Mac's tray before it fell to the floor. Mac combined hopping with heavy limping, but remained off balance.

"What the—" Smitty turned his chair at the commotion, and somehow, Mac landed in his lap. After his initial shock, he asked her, "Are you alright?"

She took several rapid, deep breaths, and wiped away a tear with her good hand. "I don't know. I'll have to see if I can walk."

"Well, not right away," Drake told her, setting her tray on the empty side of the table, across from Jane. "Let that leg rest for a few minutes, at least. You can sit here with us."

"Yes," Jane agreed. "And then report to sick bay before returning to duty."

"She's already scheduled for physical therapy after lunch," Smitty stated. "If she needs support to get to sick bay, I'd be happy to provide it."

Mac frowned and carefully moved herself off Smitty's lap and to the empty seat. "Thank you for the invite, captain. I'm not certain I could have gone any further at the moment." She glanced at Smitty, then at Drake. "As for lending me support to get to sick bay, it makes more sense for Dr MacGregor to do it, since he will no doubt be headed that way."

"It would be my pleasure," Smitty stated. "It would give us a chance to talk."

Mac gave him a slight frown. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I beg to differ!"

"You're entitled to your opinion," she returned. "Allow me to clarify. I have nothing to talk to you about, and no desire to listen to you."

"That seems pretty harsh," Drake muttered.

Smitty stared at her in surprise. "But what have I done?"

"You could at least tell him that much," Jane said calmly.

Mac squirmed—as much as her injuries would allow her to—and took a drink of her iced tea. Looking only at her food, she stated, "He decided to put me on light duty without discussing it with me."

Jane didn't comment. Smitty protested, "I made that decision based on what Dr Davis said were your limitations!"

"I wasn't speaking of today," she responded, and took a bite of her sandwich.

"But—" Smitty began, and then subsided, a confused look on his face.

"Was that bit of talking so difficult?" Jane asked the girl softly. "Sometimes talking can accomplish quite a lot. I wouldn't rule it out so blithely, if I were you. For instance, if you feel you need more time to heal, you might talk to your superior officer about that."

"Never mind," Mac said, with a hint of sullenness in her voice. "If I can get to his office, I can do paperwork."

"Good. Glad to hear it," Jane told her. "I'm sure you'll give it the same dedicated attention you afford all things engineering. And communications. Don't you agree, Mr Smythe?"

Smitty looked up from his tray—which despite his staring at it, he hadn't eaten anything since Mac had fallen into his lap—and took a moment to piece out what had been asked of him. "Oh, yes, captain. She'll do a fine job." If he expected his words to mollify Mac's mood, he was disappointed.

"I will do the best I can, within my... limitations," Mac intoned, and continued eating.

"Certainly, nobody can ask for more than that," Drake stated. He also continued to eat, trying to finish his meal at about the same time as Mac. Obviously, she found this situation irritating, being trapped at the same table as Smitty, whom she didn't want to talk to, and the captain, around whom she had to be careful what she said. Mac certainly wasn't wasting any time eating her meal, which consisted of finger foods, no silverware required.

Before long, Mac stuffed the last of her cookies in her mouth, chewed a few times and washed it down with the rest of her tea. She glanced at Drake and tossed her napkin on her tray, eager to leave. "Thank you again for allowing me to join you, captain. If you'll excuse me, I'm rather eager to get to sick bay and start my physical therapy."

"Not to mention find out if any additional damage has been done to your leg," Drake added, tossing his napkin atop his half-eaten pie. "Let me dispose of our trays, Mac, and then we can be on our way."

"We'll take care of your trays," Jane stated. "Get her to sick bay and take care of that leg. And the shoulder."

Caught off-guard, Drake didn't know how to respond for a moment. "Thank you, Captain. That certainly would be a help. Come along, Mac, let's go." He lined himself up on her right side, waited for her to stand up.

She slid out of her seat on her left side, holding onto the table for added support. "I can't hold on to you on my right side, MacG, I need you on my left side."

What was I thinking? Well, I was thinking that her right leg needed the support, so that's the side I should be on. But it won't work, in this case. He walked over to her left side and took a firm grip on her arm. "You ready?"

"I hope so." And they did get out of the mess hall and half way to the lift before her leg buckled the first time.