Post 384: I Have a Very Bad Feeling About This

Stardate:70813.1836
Title: I Have a Very Bad Feeling About This
Author: February Grace
Scene: Various, Independence
Time: Following docking of the Callisto and before "Under Arrest"
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TC Blane had barely had time to catch his breath following their hasty exit from Trill. Now all this.*So much for my peaceful shore leave,* he thought to himself as he walked through the corridors of the Independence once more.

He'd enjoyed his foray into nature for the most part, though he did feel bad that Biggs had gotten injured on the trek, especially since it had happened when Simon was looking out for him.

TC had missed hiking more than he had realized, and one thing was for sure. He'd never forget his first visit to Trill, or to the Tenaran Ice Cliffs.

He had been first off the Callisto once it docked, carrying February Grace from within and laying her down on a gurney before turning her over to the waiting medical staff. She'd been so pale, so quiet. Her breathing shallow, barely existent. He hoped that she would make it through.

He'd been thinking about this fancy ritual thing that she was supposed to undergo as soon as she regained consciousness, and he still had his doubts about playing a role in it.

It wasn't that he didn't like the kid, she was sweet enough. But the idea still bugged him for some reason he couldn't entirely put his finger on, and he wished he could figure it out so he could give the doctors good reason why he wasn't going to be participating.

For some reason he was drawn to Sickbay after they'd whisked February away- he wanted to hear how she was doing before he turned in.

That would be a decision he immediately regretted, the moment his feet hit the deck in Sickbay and he saw Dr. Hood approaching.

"Mr. Blane," Jaine Hood was tired, cranky, and in no mood for debate. She handed him a PADD which contained a list of items.

TC scanned it ins! tantly a nd an incredulous laugh escaped his lips. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"No. Rigin was talking to February before. . . she woke up briefly on the trip and she was terrified, disoriented. No idea where she was or what was going on. Rigin distracted her by asking her for a list of things she wanted to have brought to her upon her arrival here. This is that list."

TC groaned. "But I've already spent the better part of a day, I mean, can't you send some scrub to fetch and carry her-"

"Mr. Blane," Hood said with a sigh. "It is my understanding that you are acting chief of operations on this ship, correct?"

TC sighed, knowing where this was going. "Correct."

"Then operate. Go get the list and then you're free to go do whatever it is you're in such a hurry to do."

TC took the list, nodded, and headed for deck eight. His quarters were actually not far from Grace's, just up the hall on the opposite side.

Still, he'd never had occasion to see her place, and it felt like an intrusion somehow to be doing this now. But he was nothing if not a professional, and so he would retrieve her belongings, and get on his way.

After all he'd been through, he was really kind of looking forward to a warm reception from Sunshine the dog.

The first thing TC heard upon over-riding the security code on he lock and turning on the lights, was concrete proof that Grace's cat didn't like the way he smelled. Whether he smelled of Trill's local foliage or still had Eau de Sunshine on his boots somehow even after all that trekking around -the dog did tend to sleep near his boots- the cat hated it. It sniffed the air, hissed wildly and ran to hide under Bru's bed.

*Okay, TC. . .let's get this over with. First item; size J crochet hook. What the hell is a crochet hook?*

He shook his head and then remembered, oh yeah, it was that thing that Grace was always doing with the big ball of string.

He found what looked like a tote bag full of metal hooks and balls of yarn, and just set the whole thing aside. He'd take it all with him.

*Oh, come on now.* he grimaced as he read the rest of the list. It went this way:

White terry bath robe.
Bunny slippers.
Dental retainer.
Spare pair of eyeglasses.

*Apparently her eyes are still troubling her some,* TC thought. *How the hell am I going to find all this?* He returned to his list.

Under. . .things.
A scrunchie.

*Whatever mystical kind of female accessory that was,*

Her Daisy Rock Heartbreaker guitar and her spare acoustic, as well. Both pink.. . .and lastly, she'd asked for her hardcover, first edition copy of The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams.

*Good grief.*

He started with the easiest items. He found the book quickly enough. Her books were just about the only thing neatly kept in her quarters, and he stepped over a couple piles of crochet pattern books and sheet music to get to the book case.

He stopped to notice some of the other book titles on the shelf. A Tale of Two Cities. Wuthering Heights. The Hunchback of Notre Dame. What appeared to be an entire library of books by that Douglas Adams fellow. The shelf below held technical manuals mostly, and more books of sheet music.His eyes were drawn to a picture in a frame; showing a younger February with two other Trill. He could only guess they must be her parents.

Their eyes bored through him from the snapshot- it didn't take his background in special ops psych profiling to know that all three people in that picture were hiding something.

In fact, to him it seemed that their forced smiles only served to reinforce the fact that they were all living a lie.

He shook the uneasy feeling it gave him off, and moved on. He grumbled, cleared his throat, and finally bit the bullet and went into her dresser to gather the clothing she'd requested.

He was a professional. He could do this.

He tried to ignore the rest of the contents of each drawer in or der to get what he needed, and get out. He still felt like he was trespassing somehow.

Having finally located her dental retainer and spare glasses, he was about to give up on the next item when, on a shelf in the bathroom, he saw a small plastic case with scrawled handwriting on a label so badly written he could hardly make it out.

But damn, it did say what he thought it did.

It said 'scrunchies'.

He pulled a couple of them out, and stuffed them into the bag he held. Triumphant, he piled the books in with the clothes, the scrunchie in with the retainer and glasses, and a guitar case beneath each arm.

It was as he looked down by the door and realized that he'd almost forgotten her slippers that he realized that despite his better judgment, he was going to be taking part in Grace's zhian'tara, after all.

The sight that changed his mind was the sight of Grace's cat, laying on the slippers and rolling on them. The feline stuffed his paws into them, he sniffed them, he was missing his human companion, and TC could tell.

"Crap." he said out loud. "Looks like it's time for me to give in and let them snatch my body for awhile, cat. But you're going to have to give up the slippers if you want to get your mama back."

Sparrow moved away, and TC picked the slippers up and stuffed them into the bag with the rest of her clothes.

He looked around the room and thought about Bru one more time, and knew that while he might hate himself for saying yes to this later, he'd hate himself now and later if he didn't step up, and go through with the ritual to help her

"Yeah," he thought aloud. "I'm going to do it."

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Lt. (jg) February Grace
Helm/Flight Controller
USS Independence NCC-90791