Stardate:70616.1200
Title: Smile, Though Your Heart is Aching
Author: Lt. February Grace
Scene: Sickbay
Time: About an hour after "Heart and Soul" by Lily T'Ana
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She looked up and over the edge of her book at RJ Gilmore as he slept peacefully before her.
A long, raw line ran from just below his collar bones, extending down his chest. She knew it went past the blanket which rested over him, and hated to think about what he'd had to go through on that operating table.
Her mind flashed to a moment a year and five months ago, when she herself had woken up after surgery.
*Flashback*
"Lieutenant, open your eyes." The male Trill doctor's voice rang through her head with exaggerated volume as if the words were being spoken through a bullhorn. "State your name, rank and position."
"February Dai," she stammered. "Lieutenant. Flight Controller, USS Worthington." She'd opened her eyes expecting to be blinded by the bright lights of the room, but something was wrong.
Her vision was hazy, dulled. In addition to the fact that everything appeared mired in fog while also surrounded by halos of light, it seemed she could only see the narrow field directly in front of her. It was as if she were trying to look through a window with dark curtains at each side that could not be tied back or opened.
"My eyes."
"There were complications, but you're going to be okay." The doctor replied gently, trying to minimize the seriousness of the situation by adding, "You might want to start going by your new name now."
"New name?" Her head was foggy and she didn't understand.
"Your joined name," the doctor said, taking her hand and smiling. "February Grace."
*End Flashback*
"Lt. Dai," Captain Gilmore's eyes were glassy, but open now. He was on such high doses of pain medication that she couldn't believe that he was speaking to her at all, let alone intelligibly. "What are you reading? Another of your fairy tales I suppose?" He indicated the book she held with a slight wave.
"Lt. Grace," February corrected him gently, a smile crossing her lips. Apparently his mind had jumped back a little in time, dazed. Dai was the given surname by which he had known her when she first came aboard the Wellington.
"I'm reading Jane Eyre. For the ninth time." She put the long strand of yarn she used as a bookmark back between the pages and set the volume down in her lap.
"Not Bronte again. I thought you left her behind long ago."
"I don't think one ever really does, Sir." She said, folding her hands and resting them on the book's cover. "How are you feeling?"
"Ready to get back to work. All this laying around, it's not for me. Besides, a man could starve around here."
"I know." Indeed, she did know all about long recoveries and hospital beds. "I'm sorry about all this. But you have to be patient you know. These things take time."
He sighed in reply and tried to pull the blanket up higher, feeling self-conscious about the incision on his chest. But the fabric was caught on the railing of the bed and he couldn't free it. February rose from her seat and tried to help him, but when her hand brushed his, he pulled his own back quickly and rebuked her.
"As you were, lieutenant."
February's expression clouded over as he barked. "Sorry, I was only,"
She realized that he really must be feeling better, if he was this close to being his old cantankerous self. She felt happy about this in one way, but sad in another.
Sad because she saw now that he had once again stepped back into the shadows, away from her. After the way they'd talked just before his operation, she had thought that maybe there might be a chance. A slim chance. Just maybe.
"You're out of uniform, Lt. Are you not on duty today?" His sense of time was turned upside down, not knowing night from day because he'd been in and out of consciousness for so long now.
"I've already finished my shift, Captain. I was just,"
"Well surely then you have things that you need to be doing. Instead of sitting here watching an old man sleep. On your way." He tried to look at her sternly, but all he could manage was a vacant stare that made her feel incredibly lonely, somehow.
"Captain Gilmore," she offered, "If I've said, or done, anything that has offended you in some manner-"
"No. Nothing of the sort," he interrupted, cutting her off once again.
"Then I don't understand. Why are you,"
A beeping sound emanated from a small machine beside his bed, signaling that the next dose of pain medication was about to be administered through a tiny automatic hypospray unit affixed to his wrist. He began to feel the dizzying effects immediately and knew it would knock him out soon.
"You have better things to do with your time," he repeated slowly, "than to sit here watching me sleep. Go on."
February did her very best to alter her initial expression, intent on giving him one of the smiles he was so accustomed to seeing her wear. But the look that crossed her face was a half-hearted version at best. Her eyes stared straight ahead and were fixed on some point in the distance over his shoulder, not meeting his so that he might not see what they said so loudly without any words.
Gilmore looked away, unable to watch her struggle so as she whispered, "As you wish." She turned to go.
As he heard her steps begin to retreat, he spoke again to stop her. Each word became slower than that last and slurred as the medication kicked in full force.
"February Valentine Guinevere Grace," he rattled off each name deliberately, demonstrating that she was not the only one who had gone out of their way to do a some research in the three years that they had known each other.
She stopped, but did not look back or speak. He continued. "Edward Rochester was a very selfish man."
It took her a moment, but she eventually placed the familiar name as belonging to the male lead in the book she now held in her hands.
"What?"
"He had no right to tie something so young and trusting to the. . .darkness inside of him. It," he paused, "Was not fair to her." He sounded as if he were intoxicated as the medication lulled him toward sleep.
"But," February objected, barely audibly.
"No, not fair at all." He sighed and shifted slightly on the bed. Completely unaware that he was still speaking aloud, he mumbled. "If he had really loved February, he never. . .would have told her." Gilmore's words halted as his body succumbed to sedation.
"But she loved him too." February spoke the words knowing it was only to herself, and she grasped the book tighter with both hands. "Despite the darkness. Because even though she was young, she'd known darkness, too."
She wanted for so long to tell him what had really become of Grace's last host, but had never found the words. *If only he realized,* she thought, her own thoughts fusing with those of her symbiont now. *That I am no innocent Jane Eyre.*
Perhaps someday she'd tell him, and then he'd understand. Maybe she never would.
She checked the time and realized that she was expected to show up at Seven soon. To talk with friends and smile and laugh. So that was exactly what she would do.
She would not show them that behind her lying smile was a sadness that she did not want to begin to try to explain to anyone.
As she walked past the door she went by a medical waste reclamation unit. She opened the lid, dropped her copy of Jane Eyre inside, and secured the lock once more. Then she watched as in a flash of light, it was disintegrated.
She drew a deep breath, nodded once, squared her shoulders, and walked on.
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Lt. February Grace
Helm/Flight Controller
USS Independence NCC-90791