Bleeding or Apologizing
Posted on March 4th, 2021 by Emilaina Acacia

Doctor Acacia had been under a lot of stress lately. It seemed like sickbay was overrun every other day, and each time it was a new and interesting challenge. When Atlantis had happened upon an ailing Xovul ship and taken in her wounded, Emily felt like the world was testing her knowledge, abilities, and most of all her patience. 

And now there’s him.

Second Lieutenant Ammora thought very highly of himself, or at least felt very highly of himself. The Doctor wasn’t able to hear peoples’ thoughts in words, rather she felt what they were feeling, and Ammora felt like he knew what he was doing. Loudly.

Doctor Acacia handed him a chart in the flurry around the Xovul.

“Uh… Doctor?”

She paused, realized what she’d done, and took the chart back before handing it to Doctor Straynj. Ammora called out, “Doctor! He’s going to need a skin graft with a homogenistic compound! Anaprovaline to start, but with this species make-up as a higher yield compound of a serillium based substitute should do the trick!”

So he did know something about what he was talking about. The Doctor waved him on, telling him to get started with the skin graft. She’d never had a problem letting field medics help, especially in a triage scenario. He did the right thing and asked Ethan and a nurse for help with the math, eventually handing the patient back off to Acacia to actually perform the graft.

“You can borrow him for emergencies,” Grey mused.

“Done,” Tailor replied.

Nice to have the help, Emily thought. She figured that would be the end of it, much like when Grey was eager to help out in sickbay when she first started but had then settled into her role as a marine.

Then the second time.

Doctor Acacia’s head was throbbing, she felt a little light on her feet after the ship had been thrown around by the Romulans’ surprise attack. She definitely had a concussion, and so did a dozen other people who were flowing into sickbay.

Ammora transported in with his hands covering a crewman’s head wound. Doctor Acacia swooped in, beginning with a scan as Ammora said, “We have to worry about the sub-dermal hemorrhaging.”

Yes, I know, Acacia thought, wielding a vascular regenerator that bathed the crewman’s head in a blue light, seeking out and repairing the internal bleeding in her brain. There were two major bleeds, the Doctor focusing on them and trying to tune out Ammora’s anxiety.

She told him to strap in, anticipating the ship might jolt again.

He said, “I’m not leaving her.”

Fine, Emily sighed, “Well hold onto the bed,” the doctor suggested.

“I’ll hold onto the bed if you need me to do your job for you,” Ammora snarked.

Excuse me? Emily wasn’t sure what he meant at first, managing only a dizzy, “What?”

“Did you just graduate med-school? Vascular regeneration? She has head trauma! Neural stimulator and a cranial support is called for,” Ammora rattled off. It was all Acacia could do not to say something rude back, needing her energy for the patient and not… this. Of course a neural stimulator would be needed once the bleeding had stopped, but surely Ammora could have just gone and gotten one without first stroking his ego.

The Doctor kept her focus on stopping the internal hemorrhaging, moving up toward the surface bleed and telling Ammora, “Okay, decrease pressure… and shove it with the attitude, seriously.”

“Be better at your job,” Ammora remarked, and once again Acacia bit her tongue. 

I only have two hands! she wanted to scream at him, but what good would that have done? The patient needed her focus. Instead she pointed to the door and gave an order she took no pleasure in giving, “Get out of sickbay and stay out unless you’re bleeding or apologizing.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll leave and see how many others you let die,” Ammora kept up with the attitude, and Acacia barely restrained herself from screaming yet again. She didn’t even hear Ethan offering to call Everly, she tapped her combadge to contact Grey.

Now not only were Ammora’s loud moods pressing on her mind, his presence was no longer welcomed. He went and got a neural stimulator himself and waved it over the crewman’s head, now being helpful in defiance. She had a dozen patients coming in with head wounds in need of those neural stimulators, but first she had this crewman with a–

“There… the enzymes are dropping… that means an aneurysm, right?”

—fuck, the Doctor looked at the screen and grabbed another tool, running it over the crewman’s temple and searching for the blockage.

Everly appeared, “Captain Grey sent me down here. What seems to be the issue?”

“Nothing…” Ammora lilted, “We’re saving a life.”

“Ammora refused a direct order to leave,” Acacia corrected, now having found the blockage and working quickly to clear it.

“Please, let me stay. You know I was right. Let me help, please…”

“Oh now it’s please?” Acacia was not impressed by the sudden change of tone, “Out.”

Everly escorted Ammora away. Emily wouldn’t find out until later that the Second Lieutenant had been taken to the brig rather than his quarters. When she did find out she let out a single snort-laugh before managing to reign it in. The crewman Ammora had brought in pulled through, leaving sickbay the next day.

—

Emily awoke fifteen minutes before her alarm, having dreamt of a sickbay full of wolves that all pounced on Ammora when he came in with a bag of dog treats.

She spent those precious minutes in reflection. Mostly on her mind was Grey and the first impression she’d made, comparing it to her experience with this new marine. Emily wondered if Ammora would prove himself or end up transfered, sink or swim. She also wondered when, if ever, he would apologize.

She tried to shake the small seed of self-doubt he’d managed to plant in his tirade, trying not to linger on the intrusive thought, Am I a good doctor?

Instead she put on some music, starting with a Risan tune she’d picked up on her last visit there, and replicated herself a breakfast of waffles and drakberries. She reflected on how many people had left sickbay good as new in the hours since the battle. She checked a PADD for the duty roster, mentally checking off the names of those who had been treated.

“I am a good doctor,” Emily said to her empty quarters. She repeated it several times until it actually felt right, giving a firm nod, “I am a good doctor!”