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[Scene opens in Security Central]
Niko is working, yup. Of course. What else would he be doing. He casts an annoyed look at one particular form, but his expression clears as he looks up. "Hey, Clara. What's up, y'need something?"
Clara makes her way in, a chart folded closed in her arms, and for once looking particularly serious as she stops before a particular desk and ventures a half smile. "Can I talk to you, Niko? It's important."
Niko nods amiably, setting aside his work--oh, the horror. "Sure, yeah. Here? Somewhere else?"
Clara's eyes flicker over the busy room for a moment thoughtfully before she answers, "Perhaps somewhere a bit more quiet? I...this is best discussed quietly," she adds, dropping her voice so that it doesn't carry beyond the desk.
Niko keys off his terminal and gets to his feet, snagging his soda as he does so. Can't exist without caffeine, after all. "Your office? I'd offer mine, but, well, I don't have one. Or the room." Gesturing vaguely upwards, he grins faintly at that, though he's also apparently caught some of your seriousness.
Clara laughs quietly and nods, tucking the chart up under one arm. "Sounds good. You can get reacquainted with McCoy," she decides, heading for the door.
[Travel to Clara's office snipped]
Niko trails in after you, expression thoughtful. McCoy gets a brief half-salute before Niko inquires, "So what's up? I feel like I should be talking into my pen or something."
Clara ignores the desk for a moment to head over and drop lightly into one corner of the couch, rubbing at her forehead. "Talking into your pen?" That gets a faintly puzzled grin. "You're a spy?" Still, she can't repress a sigh, and taps at the chart. "It's Riley."
Niko leans against the arm of the couch, expression suddenly serious. "What's the matter? He's been working too hard, I know--I've been trying to get stuff done, but, well... there's only so much time in a day." The words tumble from his mouth before he cuts them off and shakes his head, downing a swallow of his soda before he turns back to you.
Clara leans back at gives you a rather solemn look. "That's just it, exactly. He finally let me give him a physical last night, albeit at home and at 0200. The man hasn't been getting more than four hours sleep a night for a while now. I did tell him I didn't want him to work more than twelve hours a day, six days a week. What do you think? Reasonable?"
Niko nods firmly, after a moment of consideration. "More than reasonable--if you can hold him to it. I can do more, pick up the slack."
One brow quirks at you bemusedly as Clara shifts to rest an elbow on the back of the couch. "No, you can do less, actually. That's the other problem. Riley won't work under eighty hours a week unless you agree to the same. And you know what? I happen to agree with him," she explains firmly.
Niko's brows lower at that. "Clara, the work has to get done," he says pragmatically. "I mean, isn't that why I took the job? So that Riley wouldn't have to do as much? I sleep, I eat. If I can get the stuff done in the time that you set--sure."
Clara climbs to her feet to pace lightly before her desk, arms folded in a manner over her chest that decries extreme concern. "I don't think you get it, Niko. You are -both- going to get very, very ill if you continue this pattern. It's self-destructive and extremely unhealthy. Which is more important? A random bit of paperwork done a week before schedule, or your personal life?"
Niko hesitates for a long moment before he answers. "Clara, if I'm going to be gone for two weeks, I -have- to get the work done before schedule. Otherwise you -won't- be able to hold Riley to what you said, because it won't be getting stuff done early, it'll be finishing them on time." After another pause, he says quietly, "I don't want to give up that trip, Clara. I really don't. But if I can't get enough done beforehand, I'm not going to go."
Clara continues to pace, a line deepening between her brows. "But the wedding is soon. And then you have two weeks off. What about when you come home? Are you still going to try and pull these insane hundred-hour weeks? Do I have to watch the two men closest to me collapse from overwork? I won't do that, you know that."
Niko perches lightly on the couch-arm upon which he's been leaning. "After I get back, I'll have to catch up on the backlog," he replies equably. "After that... well, if you can get Riley to cut back, I will, too."
Always a short fuse, Clara stops pacing to turn back and regard you with a look of almost desperate frustration. Likely because she's been sleeping on Riley's schedule, lately. "What part did I not make clear earlier? He won't cut back until you do. But you won't cut back until he does. I'm seeing a rather nasty cycle here, and damnit, it's going to end you both up in the ward! Two weeks, Niko. You will both have two weeks after you get back from vacation to work out a schedule. If it isn't done, I'm hauling you both on the carpet before General Conley."
Niko's brows lift very slowly. See, he's twenty-two, so he's still immortal. He can't be made ill by something so insignificant as overwork. But he also grew up in a houseful of women, and knows when to acquiesce without question. "Yes, ma'am," he says, with all apparent meekness. After a brief pause, he says, "We'll work something out, Clara. Y'don't have to get so upset, everything will be fine." He really can be earnest when he's trying to reassure.
Clara stops pacing on her backswing towards the couch and drops back onto it wearily, nodding slowly as she pulls one knee in to rest her heel on the edge of the couch. "I already knew Riley would work himself to collapse, but I didn't know you would do the same." She attempts to regather her composure, then sighs and gives up. "Just don't forget that there's someone up on the fourth floor who needs you with her now and again, okay? And more than just when the two of you are asleep."
"Clara, I get plenty of rest," Niko replies patiently. At that last, however, he looks more than a bit guilty. "Ela understands," he says, a little too quickly. "She knows that my job is time-consuming. She understands."
Clara finally gathers together a bit of that composure and looks up at you with sidelong bemusement. "She may understand, but don't think it doesn't mean she's happy about it. And no, she hasn't said a word to me. I haven't even detected anything of the sort from her. But I know how women think." A pause, then a wry grin. "Can't imagine why."
Niko ducks his head for a moment, then looks back at you. "D'you think I'm happy about it?" he inquires quietly. "Come on, Clara. I don't like it that I can't be with her more. A lady like Ela... I -hate- it, wish I could be with her all the time. But, see, the work still has to get done."
"Does it?" Clara insists gently, peering up at you curiously. "Is every bit of that paperwork so utterly vital to keep this place running that it keeps you in security fifteen hours a day? Think that over before you answer...and answer honestly."
And, to his credit, Niko doesn't answer immediately, but takes several moments to consider your question. "The paperwork, no. Some of it isn't necessary, would actually be more useful in a bonfire or something. But it's the system. And there are the calls, and that sort of thing as well. It's not just paperwork, that's just a lot of it."
Clara leans back into the couch and shakes her head slowly. "I guess I really just don't understand how or why if the XO is supposed to be the backup for the CO, you're -both- working more now than either of you were during Interegnuum."
Niko shakes his head, with a quiet, wry chuckle. "Y'know, Clara, I have no idea why. You're right, it shouldn't be the case. I don't really know the volume of each particular form before I was made XO--but, hey, I could check into it if you like," he adds, obviously joking. "I mean, I don't have enough to do and all."
Clara grimaces in dry humor and reaches over to snag a cushion and swing it over in a thwapping attempt. "Please, no. Not a chance. No research. If I really wanted that information, I'd put in a few extra hours a day myself and find it. I just..." She exhales heavily. "I'm worried. Very, very worried."
Niko deserved that, he holds still for the cushion-thwap. "I'm sorry," he replies, and he honestly sounds it. "But... well, can you see my point? I can't just hie off for two weeks without trying to get some of the stuff done ahead of time. You -know- Riley, you know he'll want to make up for my absence. I mean, I almost didn't agree go because of that." He pauses a beat, then inquires, very slowly, like pulling teeth, "Do you think I should not go? I could try a lighter schedule, then."
Clara groans and all but collapses against the back of the couch, by now half-laughing. "Ni-ko! I'd toss you out of here for a month, if it were up to me. It's your honeymoon, for crying out loud! I'm worried, yes, but not because I think the work won't get done. I'm worried about Riley -and- you. Just...promise me you'll think before working so hard you fall asleep in Security?"
After a decidedly relieved look at your first comments, rubs lightly at the back of his neck. Sheepish? Nah, not him. "Uh, did Kayce tell you about that. That was a little much, yeah, rather avoid doing that again."
With completely serene deadpan, Clara explains, "No. I'm taking omniscience lessons from Anya, actually." Unfortunately, she's unable to hold the expression and grins faintly. "Riley told me last night. If I'd known about it, you'd be on twenty-four hour medleave today, by the way."
Niko shakes his head at that. "Wouldn't be necessary, though," he says. "I went home, I slept, everything's fine." With a soft snort, he adds, "I'm not all bad. Bet Riley doesn't mention the times that I go home on time, and sometimes early, even." Okay, once. "Doesn't want to make himself look bad."
Clara shifts slightly to peer up at you with a raised brow, not particularly buying it. "Early. Mm-hmm. What, five, ten minutes? Tell me this...when was the last time you took a day off?"
Niko retorts, with a quick grin, "It was an hour early, actually--to deal with the wedding and all." At that last question, however, he pauses, then hedges, "I'm not sure."
"Uh-huh. And you're leaving that poor woman of yours to plan the whole wedding by herself, then. Except the whole whopping hour you took off early," Clara points out. "Not sure? Rough estimate, then. In the last month?"
Oh, twist the knife a little more. Looking decidedly guilty, Niko murmurs, "But it's not going to be complicated or anything, just us and the words and the people and all." At that last question, he sighs. "Maybe more like two, I don't know."
Clara quirks a brow, snorting faintly. "Shows how much -you- know about weddings. Do you have the license yet? Are there going to be any flowers? Where is Ela getting her dress? Have you gotten your dress uniform ready yet? Where are you having it? Have you chosen and exact day? There's about two dozen more questions I could think up, trust me."
Niko regards you for a moment, then shakes his head. "We're having it by the lake," he replies patiently, his sigh audible. "We're holding off on picking an exact date til the met report is a little more clear. My dress uniform is just fine. Uh... license, yeah, I've got to get that. And I don't know about flowers, but she's going to comm you about maybe finding a dress." He pauses a beat. "I remember asking you about that. I did, right?"
Clara actually grins at this, although she rolls her eyes. "Yes, you did. Or Riley did. Someone did, at least. Okay, so you've got the main points covered. I stand corrected, and I apologize." She pushes to her feet lightly and gestures with her head. "Okay, I've yelled at you all I'm going to. But...please take off at a decent time today? Please?"
Niko nods as he pushes off from his perch on the couch arm. "Sure, I'll try." Of course, your definition of 'decent' might be very different from his. "Nice chatting with you," he adds, as he starts for the door.
"Niko..." Clara starts, trying to catch at a uniform sleeve and peering up imploringly. "Think about what I've said. I'm frightened for both of you." She releases the sleeve, if it were caught at all, and steps back with a wistful smile. "Have a good day."
Niko pauses, sleeve caught. "I will," he replies seriously, bringing up his hand to give yours a gentle squeeze, assuming it isn't smacked or attacked by a random kamikaze penguin. "I'll think about it, promise. Once Ela and I get back from Hellas, Riley and I can hammer out something that will work. And thanks, Clara."
Clara exhales a breath of relief, smile coming more easily as she nodds. "That's all I ask, then. For now. Tell everyone in Security I said hello." The penguins are refugees, not kamikazes. Well, except the Frankenstein'ed one.
Niko, irrepressible, flashes a grin over his shoulder as he heads back through medbay. "Will do, sure. Even Kathlyn."
Niko walks towards the Medical Bay.
[Sometime later, going to check on Tarrant...]
"Speak of the devil," Tarrant murmurs, looking rather decidedly, if still somewhat sleepily, amused. "Good afternoon, n'all." He half reaches up, as if tipping a hat he's not wearing. Tarrant and his amazing imaginary headgear.
Corian is, naturally, still perched in that chair, legs folded lotus-style. "Good afternoon, Clara," she says pleasantly. "You have excellent timing."
Clara lets herself in, having taken the time to pull up a cheerful smile, and ready to exert more evil on the general populous. No, no need to thank her, it's what she's here for. "Hello, hello, hello. Of course I have good timing. It's what they pay me for. I'm the devil, though?"
"Well, no, not unless you've got some sort of standardized fill in the bubble test you require folks to take to get out of here," Tarrant answers in only somewhat snozzled amiability.
Corian gently pokes Tarrant's arm, looking rather amused as she adds, to Clara "Of course you aren't--but the test would certainly count for evil points."
Clara pretends to hold a stack of paperwork, and gives the imaginary stack a mournful look. "Just a few questions? It's just a short form..." The invisible papers get tossed over one shoulder as she grins and leans against the railing at the foot of the bed. "Two questions before you can go. Do you hurt? And do you think you can walk?"
"A little sore, but far less evilly drugged, seems like a fair trade off to me." Tarrant replies, levering himself rather carefully upright. "And I walked -up- here, seems to me I can probably manage walking out of here." This last is said with an amused grin, "As long as you've not been injecting more boiled owls into my veins?"
Corian tucks her hands in her lap as Tarrant shifts upright. She's not going to help, going to let him do this on his own. At the last, however, she chuckles quietly. "Somewhere, they likely do boil owls. I will have to find out where."
Clara can't help but burst into laughter at that, shaking her head as she extracts a hypo from her coat pocket with a flourish. "Brought you a general, lowlevel painkiller. Should make moving about for today easier. After that...fly free, oh sozzled owl. You're released." She makes a face at Corian and shudders. "Why would someone want to boil an owl?"
"I think I want that on a button," Tarrant murmurs, looking excessively amused as he carefully shifts his feet over the side of the bed. "Fly free, oh sozzled owl...Released is a really good thing. Are you going to clip a radio collar on me?"
Corian casts an amused smile at Clara, murmuring, "Odder things have been done, in the name of fine cuisine--though that, of course, is relative." She finally does get to her feet, now, absently straightening her rather rumpled shirt as she walks around the bed to the side from which Tarrant is disembarking.
Clara administers the hypo swiftly before slipping the spent cartridge back into her pocket, laughing easily despite the faint circles under her eyes. "I'll see what I can do. Do you -want- a radio collar? I'm sure I can fashion something out of one of my remote monitors. Measures heartrate, and things like that," she explains with complete innocence.
"Nah, wouldn't really do you any good unless there were a bunch of me. Then you could chart migrating patterns." Tarrant slides carefully from the bed to his feet, most of his concentration on that effort. Well, his knees don't buckle, that's a good thing at least. He does however lean against the bed for balance just yet, falling over would be highly embarrassing.
Corian watches Tarrant carefully, a hint of concern in her expression. She doesn't suggest that he be tossed back in the bed for another day, though, lest she bring his wrath to bear upon her. She does, however, move a step closer, though her hands are still at her sides. The exchange between the two gets a brief, amused smile.
"Dizziness is to be expected," Clara notes reassuringly, not moving forward to assist, but rather staying where she is leaned against the railing on the bed, seemingly relaxed. "I'd like to check on you later this evening, would that be acceptable?" She glances at Corian as well to include her in the question.
Tarrant doesn't really have much to say at this point, the bulk of his effort is on not falling over. He does nod however, adding, "Doesn't bother me any."
Corian's brows lift fractionally. Looking a bit puzzled by her inclusion, she says, "Of course, of course. Whatever you find necessary, Clara."
Clara finally moves forward to assist Tarrant from one side, chuckling. "Okay, so maybe walking isn't the best of ideas. I'll help get you as far as...the broom closet?" she asks, almost dismayed, although whether at the location or the quality is debatable.
Tarrant shakes his head in a fairly quick gesture, "I can make it on my own, really. It's just a couple of halls over."
Corian just shakes her head at that. "Tarrant," she says, voice as patient and pleasant as ever. She's not exasperated, really. "Do let Clara help you. You look like you're having a difficult time merely standing." Gray eyes flicking towards Clara, she inquires, with a hint of concern, "Will he be all right in his... er, room?"
Clara rolls her eyes and shakes her head, moving to pulls a wheelchair from the closet, unfold it, and roll it over next to Tarrant. "Sit," she commands, then gives Corian a wistful shrug. "Honestly? It's a dank cell, practically. I'd really rather he were someplace at least with hot water."
Tarrant looks rather sheepish indeed, but sinks down into the chair as per command. "I fetch too," he murmurs half-absently, almost to himself.
Corian, after a brief, amused smile for Tarrant's comment, suggests slowly to Clara, "He could stay with me. I certainly have hot water, and cooking facilities, besides."
Clara can't help but grin as well, gently squeezing her patient's shoulder before tilting her head at Corian. "That's your choice, Corian. Caring for someone recovering from a plasma wound isn't easy... Tarrant? What do you think? Would you be willing to settle in her quarters until you're up and about?"
"I don't wanna bother anybody," Tarrant is looking rather sheepish indeed at Clara's warning to Corian, "Howbout I just harass the powers that be about getting the room changed?"
Corian inclines her head to Clara, with a quick smile. At Tarrant's words, her brows lift fractionally. "Did you not say that you have been attempting to get the room changed? If something more can be accomplished..." She shakes her head. "You should be where you are most comfortable, of course, Tarrant, but your current quarters seem somewhat less than suitable."
Clara folds her arms and steps back slightly, dryly noting, "While Maintenance is filled with wonderful people, you need to be somewhere suitable with in about fifteen minutes, Tarrant. Now, the two of you decide, please? Or I move Tarrant onto the couch in my quarters and watch Riley go ballistic," she adds, obviously teasing.
"Been trying, yeah, for several months." Tarrant replies absently, "They don't pay attention to me." Attention must be paid! "I just don't want to make -you- uncomfortable, Corian."
Corian's gaze snaps to Clara at the mention of her brother. "That would be unnecessary, Clara," she says smoothly. Her eyes shifting back to Tarrant, she replies, "I would rather have you in comfort, Tarrant. All will be well."
Clara looks from one to the other, then sighs faintly, closing her eyes just a moment to bite back a comment that nudges up borne by weary concern, then manages another warm smile. "If it would be easier, Tarrant's quarters will be acceptable. Shall we?"
Tarrant is really between several rocks and a hard place on this one, isn't he. He just nods, what he's nodding to he's not sure, but if he just agrees with these people maybe he gets to lie back down, oooh, or find real clothes, now that would be a miracle indeed.
After another moment of hesitation, Corian apparently comes to a decision. With a smile to the others, she inquires, "It is not much farther to my quarters, yes? Why do we not go there?" She reaches to put a gentle hand on Tarrant's shoulder. "It will be fine," she reassures quietly.
Clara's lips quirk in a faint smile as she moves behind the wheelchair to push it towards the door with an air of relief. "Decision made. No more arguing, Tarrant, or I inject you with more sozzled owl. Corian? Would you get the door, please?"
Tarrant isn't arguing, or making any objections, he's just along for the ride at this point, half-sozzled himself, with no owls. "No arguing, gotcha."
Corian, after a smile to the others, moves to open the door as directed. She doesn't leave just yet, though, as she's going to wait till all the idling is complete.
Clara wheels Tarrant through the open door without speaking, easily lost in thought.
[Travel to 4th floor elevator lobby snipped]
Corian quickly moves to open the door--room Y8, to give a number. "Go ahead," she murmurs, with a quick smile. "Hopefully, it is not too chaotic in there."
Clara heads down the proper hallway after a brief salute at the guard on duty, then wheels Tarrant through the door with a quick grin at Corian. "Chaos is the order of the day around here. Not to worry."
Corian's portable computer is off, but he still just -radiates- irritation. He doesn't appreciate being neglected for this long, and, boy, Corian's going to get an earful of complaint when she turns him on. For now, though she just gives it a pat as she passes, moving to get the screen blocking the bed out of the way. Yes, the bed is neatly made.
Clara fairly well ignores the computer. It's not within her realm of patient diagnosis. As the screen is moved aside, she pushes the chair forward to the bed, bringing it to a halt to one side. "Okay, here we go. Time to rest again. He's going to need a lot of rest," she adds to Corian quietly.
Uh-oh, the bed is being un-hidden, Tarrant is most assuredly going to object to -that-. Putting a lady out of her bed is just 'Not Done'. "Umm, there's a couch," he points out rather quietly, not really good at full scale protest right now.
Corian nods to Clara, absently settling the screen against the wall and moving to offer what help she may. "Of course, of course. That makes perfect sense." Tarrant gets a serenely pleasant smile. "You are most perceptive, van'chela. There is also a bed, which you will please me by using, yes?"
Clara simply shrugs at Tarrant, waggling her brows at him briefly with a grin. "Don't look at me. I'm not going to argue with her. She's bigger than I am."
It doesn't look like he's getting out of this, Tarrant just sets about levering himself out of the chair, reconciled to his fate. "Need ta' smack maintenance with a fish..."
Corian, nearby to assist where she can, maintains her serene smile, though there's perhaps a gleam of amusement in her eyes. "If that would make you happy, Tarrant," she murmurs. "But why don't you wait a day or so, all right? I will have to locate a fish, you see."
"I'd suggests tuna. Big, happy, colorful fish. Stink up maintenance to high heaven. Just don't tell Arthur I suggested it, or he'd set me on fire," Clara explains with a grin, pushing the chair to one side to be out of the way. "Well now...anything else I can do?"
Tarrant settles down into the bed, any potential additional protests stilled by the fact that lying down is a wonderful thing, and beds are wonderful, and the world has suddenly improved as a place. "That'd be terribly rude, for him to set people on fire. If a fish would make them fix my closet, though."
Corian shakes her head to Clara, with a smile. "You've been wonderful, thank you. Is there anything in particular that I can do for him, though? Since he seems less than likely to tell me these things."
Clara slips her hands into her coat pockets, lips quirked as she shakes her head amiably. "He needs to eat real food, rest a lot, and stay calm. Otherwise, torture him as usual. He should be back to normal in a few days. Call me if you need anything, any time of day at all."
Tarrant doesn't seem to object to the fact that he's being talked around, rather than to, instead simply half drowsing and muttering to himself about owl boiling and fish beating.
Corian casts a look of fond amusement to Tarrant, then murmurs, with all apparent seriousness, "So I suppose running that marathon is unlikely." Still deadpan, she adds, "Thank you very much for all your help, Clara. I will certainly comm you if something is needed."
Clara nods approvingly, then offers a smile of parting to both. "Take care then. I'll check back in this evening." And with that, she turns to go, letting herself out the door.