1077: Down to the Wire

By Alison Schneider, Lance Hartcort, Jariel Camen and Fleur Le Marc
100416.2300
The Morning After The French Connection

-=Starfleet Medical: Earth=-

Lance stood in the corner of the operating room that Alison had secured for the upcoming operation on Tress. The room was one of the finest that he has ever seen; large and well equipped with every possible tool and system that could be required. It made his Sickbay on the Sera seem quite insignificant in comparison.

Still, he found himself wishing that he was performing this up there on his home turf. He could not shake the feeling that he was the visiting team getting ready for the big game.

He shook his head to rid himself of the feeling.

*Nerves,* he told himself.

Still, he pondered why he would be so on edge. This would be a relatively simple procedure, low risk and straightforward, medically speaking. He did not recall feeling this way when he operated on the Admiral.

And that was her heart.

*I’m taking this personally,* he realized. Tress was more then a patient to him. She was a member of the crew. No, she was a child that he witnessed first hand to have her hearing stripped away from her in an act of insensitive cruelty.

In a small way he felt that he had let her down by not finding the cure for the fever sooner, before it had the chance to take one of her God-given senses from her. It did not matter how many other lives had been saved by his work on Bajor, only that one little girl lost her hearing.

Shaking his head once more he pushed away from the wall and made his way towards the center of the room and the biobed that sat there.

He glanced up at the clock.

*Less than an hour. I’ve got to get my game face on.*

He noticed Alison walk into the O.R. and he smiled warmly.
“Did ya bring your screwdriver?” he asked jokingly.

Alison chuckled in response; she, like he, was wearing the standard Starfleet surgical garb, which included a mask currently tied around her neck. Tugging at it softly to pull it down, she replied, "You know, I knew I had forgotten something."

"Pre-op ready?"

"Yup. Anesthesiology is on standby, waiting for your instructions."

"All right, I’ll go and speak with them in a minute."

"...and then there is post-op," she added.

"What about it?"

"It too is ready, along with an audience. It seems like this surgery has become a minor sensation around here."

Lance felt something surge in him, a mixture of pride and nervousness. "My father?"

"Of course. Plus the heads of Surgery, Medical, and Science."

Lance whistled softly. “It’s flattering but…” He adjusted his head garb. “…I hope that it does not send the wrong message to the parents. They were already on the fence about this whole thing to begin with, if they ever suspect that our motivations were anything more then helping their daughter…” He let the statement hang in the air knowing that Alison would not need any help figuring it out.

He smiled at Alison. “So, can you run interference for me after we are done here? I think the parents will need time with Tress before any circus if you know what I mean. Plus we should talk to them first.”

"Not a problem," Alison said with a wink. "I already have half of them wrapped around my little finger." She stuck one of her little fingers into the air and wiggled it around.

"That's more than I needed to know."

"As if anything could distract you from your work today."

Lance briefly thought about the little girl who was soon going to be lying in front of him. He wanted to help her; he knew that he could help her. He was going to help her, and that mission was enough to focus him on what was most important.

"There is just one other thing," Alison added, breaking into his reverie.

"Oh?"

"Dron."

"Oh," Lance replied with a chuckle. "Is he already counting his profit?"

"Surprisingly, no. He does want a post-op report, but, and I say this with a bit of surprise myself, he sincerely wishes us well. He hopes the little girl gets better, and I actually think he stopped thinking about profit just for a moment when he said that."

“Wow. The universe never ceases to amaze me.” He clapped his hands together. “Well I think it is time to get this show on the road. You wanna warm things up in here and I’ll go see if our guest of honor is ready.”

Alison nodded and Lance made his way through the swinging double doors and down the short white tile hallway to the pre-op room where Tress was lying in a floating biobed with her supportive but anxious parents and brother hovering nearby.

Lance made his way over to the foot of the bed and picked up the PADD that was hanging there. Scanning over the information he added his thumbprint to verify that he was accepting the patient and that he was satisfied with the work of the pre-op staff. He hung the PADD back into its spot and took a seat at the far end of the bed. There was plenty of room as Tress was only a small child and occupied a very tiny portion of the adult sized bed.

Lance smiled warmly at Tress and signed. [[How are you feeling?]]

Tress released the iron grips she kept on both a ragged stuffed penguin and her brother’s hand just long enough to answer the Doctor. [[Afraid.]] She frowned deeply and made another sign.

[[I promise, we’ll give your hat back soon.]] He saw the continued worry creasing her small brow and making her little nose look even more wrinkled than it naturally was. [[It will be okay. You won’t feel a thing. It will seem just like a quick nap to you. We’re all going to make sure Tress is safe. Do you trust me?]]

Tress nodded firmly and bravely. She did not like naps, but she liked Doctor Hartcort. He was nice and he had a handsome smile. She didn’t believe he would hurt her. She trusted him.

Lance grinned and turned to her expectant parents. “And how about you two? Are you ready for this?” Beyond the parents, he saw Vol Tryst, now leaning against the door frame at the entrance to the pre-op area.

The Counselor acknowledged Lance with a small wave, and the Doctor refocused his attention back on Fleur and Jariel.

“I will never be ready for this,” Jariel admitted. “But I do know we have all done our best, and we are prepared.”

Fleur nodded weakly. The look on her face still made Lance uneasy; he wished that they were going into this with everyone as convinced as he was that it was the right thing for the child.

Still, whatever doubts may remain in Le Marc’s mind they had all spoken their peace time and again; now the decision had been made and it was time to stand behind it.

Vol resisted the urge the run his fingers through his hair. He could sense the nervousness in each parent despite their forced, outwardly calm appearance, and he dared not given any indication of his own anxiety, lest Lance pick up on it.

“I’ll need to take her back now,” Lance said.

Fleur leaned down, pressing her hands to each of Tress’s cheeks as she kissed her forehead over and over while whispering, “I love you.” She couldn’t prevent tears from falling down her cheeks and Tress’ chubby hands reached up toward it, brushing them away.

[[No cry, Mama. Is okay.]] She signed gently. [[OK?]]

Fleur nodded, using every bit of her remaining will to push the edges of her lips upward into a small smile.

“When you wake up, you will be able to hear me say that I love you,” she added softly, trying to convince herself once again that this was what they were meant to do. Finally, she turned around and moved away, facing the wall so that Tress could not see how truly divided she still felt about what was about to happen.

Vol did not miss it, however, and he stepped forward slowly now. He did the thing that he sensed would most help Fleur in the moment; he simply drew her into his arms and hugged her close.

Jariel and Pace each took turns gathering Tress up into a hug as well.

[[Brave Tress. I am so proud.]] Jariel signed, after setting her back down.

Lance waited patiently, until they each stepped back. Vol finally released Fleur and joined the crowd. He flashed Tress one of his glowing smiles. Slowly she raised her hands and greeted him by name.

[[V-o-l.]]

Vol felt a lump rise in his throat. [[Good girl, Tress. Very good girl.]]

She pulled the blanket covering her up over her face now, hiding shyly from the praise she didn’t quite understand how she’d earned.

Hartcort released the computerized locks on the anti-grav bed, allowing him to push Tress towards the doors. She laid back and, feeling she was moving, lowered the blanket again so she could see where she was going. She looked up at the lights passing by overhead.

[[Nap?]] She asked Hartcort one last time.

He nodded a yes back to her.

[[Nap, and play?]]

Again, he nodded. “You can play all you want as soon as you’re awake.” He said softly, even though he knew she couldn’t yet hear him.

Outside the surgical suite there was complete silence. No one was looking at anyone else, just staring at the floor, lost in thought.

Vol had his own impressions of what was raging in the minds of those around him. He was so very tempted to speak as to what everyone was thinking, but he held his tongue. This was their own conclusion they would need to come to if they were to believe it and make peace with it.

Fleur slowly lifted her head and looked around the room.

Jariel saw her motion, and looked up to catch her eyes.

Some in her situation may have asked if they were being irrational for still having doubts, or looked yet again for reassurance, or ask what everyone else was thinking.

Not Fleur Le Marc.

Suddenly she took off for the door.

Jariel fell in right behind her, her actions having been the answer to the question he would never now need to ask. Vol stayed behind, taking young Pace by the shoulders and holding him fast at arm’s length.

“They feel just as you do. It took those moments of silence for their minds to clear. She’s coming home, Pace. Perfect, just as she is.”

Vol felt the young man tremble as he fought against his tears. It was a futile gesture when Vol knew exactly what he was feeling inside, but he was content to let the Bajoran process his emotions in whatever manner he saw fit.

The young man spoke only one sentence in reply.

“Thank the Prophets.”

-=/\=-

Just outside the surgical suite, Camen and Fleur caught up to Doctor Hartcort.

“This isn’t a social call I assume?” The doctor asked, as he stopped the cart.

“This has to stop.” Fleur gasped, her heart pounding so loudly in her ears she couldn’t even hear the sound of her voice. “I am sorry Doctor, but this is not what is best for her. I appreciate all the trouble that you have gone to, but there will be no medical procedure today. I- I am taking my baby home.”

Fleur gathered up a very confused Tress from the bed.

[[Mama?]]

[[You are not sick, Tress. Mama and papa don’t think you need the Doctor if you are not sick.]]

Tress thought a moment. She poked her fingers in her ears and frowned.[[Broken. Tress is bad, no ears.]]

“Oh, God no.” Fleur shook her head fiercely and kissed Tress face again and again. Finally she handed the baby to Jariel so she could sign again. [[Tress is a good girl. Tress is a perfect girl, just the way she is. Not broken. Special.]]

[[Tress, no broken?]] She seemed unsure, and her tiny eyes darted to the faces of all around. She didn’t want to let anyone down and something in her small mind told her that this was all very important to the grown ups around her.

Jariel shook his head emphatically, kissing the top of her head.

[[Tress never broken. We love Tress.]] Fleur’s tears fell from her cheeks down onto the floor, where Hartcort’s eyes were now focused.

[[Home?]] Jariel signed to Tress. She looked up and released a soft, gentle sigh. She nodded back, still looking a bit perplexed, but also relieved.

“I think you’re making… I…” Hartcort caught himself and stopped, but Jariel knew where he was going.

“If it is a mistake, it is ours to make. I don’t believe it to be so.” Tress watched his lips move as he spoke, and she ran her hand over Jariel’s cheek the way that she so loved to do, her bright, inquisitive eyes searching his deep, dark ones for approval and affection. She always found both.

Hartcort wanted very much to argue the point, but he knew this was not the time or place. However, there would be a time and place. He lightly tapped the back of his hand against the bed in frustration.

“Your technology will do many people a lot of good. I have no doubt. When Tress is old enough to make decisions on her own, she may seek you out. But for now, she will go on knowing she is perfect exactly how she is. Thanks for everything you’ve done. We appreciate it very much, truly.”

With that, Jariel and Fleur turned for the exit.

Lance Hartcort simply curtly nodded through pursed lips as they departed.

[[Can I have my cheese now?]] Tress asked.

Jariel laughed. He nodded, nipping lightly at her fingers in the way that always made her giggle. She made another sign and frowned with concern.

[[Yes, chou chou, you can have your hat too.]] Fleur promised.

Tress looked up and sideways now, and flashed Fleur her most mischievous grin. [[Cookie?]]

Fleur felt, for the first time in days, as if the weight of the worlds has been taken from her shoulders.

She knew that as time went on and Tress grew, she would not be asking for such small, simple things to make her happy.

Those concerns would have to wait for another day, though, and Fleur would take comfort in the small joys that she could so easily provide. [[Yes, my dear. Cheese, hat, cookies. You can have it all.]]

*************

Alison Schneider
Starfleet Research

&

Doctor Lance Hartcort
Chief Medical Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

&

Jariel Camen
Ship’s Chaplain
USS Serendipity NCC-2012

&

Fleur Le Marc
Civilian Crew
USS Serendipity NCC-2012