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Dr. Philip Boyce approaches the nurse’s station. “Carter, who’s my next patient?”
“The cadet in room eight.” The nurse hands him a chart and gives him a meaningful look. “He’s an admiral’s kid. Probably has a hangover or something.”
Phil sighs. “Great. I’ll put on the kid gloves.” He scans the chart and takes a deep breath. “Let’s just get this over with.”
He opens the door and pastes on a fake smile. “Hi, Cadet Pike. I’m Dr. Boyce. Can you tell me what’s going on today?”
The cadet in the bed lights up when he sees him. “Hi. Yeah, sorry, I don’t actually need to be here,” he says. “My instructor only made me come because I passed out, and she won’t let me back into class until I get cleared. So if you could just sign-”
“I’m not signing anything until I do a full examination and figure out why you lost consciousness,” Phil interrupts as he sets up a scanner. “Have you ever fainted before? Do you know why this might’ve happened?”
“No.” The cadet looks sheepish. “It might be the water in my lungs.”
Phil grabs his stethoscope, and sure enough, the cadet’s lungs rattle when he breathes. “Why do you have water in your lungs?” He checks the results of his scanner. “And why do you have three cracked ribs?!”
“Oh,” he says. “That would explain why they hurt so much. I thought they were just bruised.”
“Cadet, did someone assault you?” Phil asks worriedly.
His surprise appears genuine. “What? No, I - I asked for this.” He sees Phil’s expression change. “Not like that. I’m on Command track. We’re doing interrogation resistance. It’s training to prepare us-”
“To withstand torture. I know what it is,” Phil says. He loads a hypospray with a painkiller and checks the dose. “But I thought beating and waterboarding were supposed to be separate days.”
“It is for most people,” the cadet says. “I asked to combine them.”
Phil looks up from his injection. “Why?”
“Because my dad finished Torture Camp in four days when he was at the Academy. I’m going to do it in three.”
“Wow, you’re stupid.” The words fall out of Phil’s mouth before he can stop himself and the cadet stares at him. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.”
“No, you’re - you’re right.” He giggles, then winces and clutches his ribs. “It’s just that I don’t think anyone has ever said it to me like that.”
“Well, someone should,” Phil says. He sticks the needle into his patient’s neck with no warning.
“Hey!” Phil gives him a look. “Alright, I deserved that.”
“Now take off your shirt.”
“You’re not going to buy me dinner first?” he asks, raising an eyebrow suggestively.
Phil refuses to indulge him. “I’m a doctor.”
“Bossy. I like it.” He flutters his eyelids at Phil. “But I don’t even know your first name.”
“It’s Philip,” he says begrudgingly. “Now let me do your job and check your injuries, cadet.”
The cadet flashes him a smile. “I’d say to call me Chris, but you can call me whatever you want.”
“Are you hitting on me?” Phil asks disbelievingly. He’d assumed all the Command-track playboys would lose interest after he graduated, but apparently, this one was more persistent than most. “Let me guess, you always flirt with your doctors after getting tortured.”
“Nope,” Chris says brightly. “You’re the first.”
Phil shakes his head as he examines Chris’ bruises and checks the scanner again. “Well, the good news is that you didn’t inhale enough water for it to be life-threatening. I gave you some medication to help clear your lungs and you’ll have to stay for a few hours for observation. I’ll also grab an osteoregenerator for your ribs.”
“Sounds good.”
“Do you want your bruises healed too?” Phil asks. He can’t resist another jab. “Or did your dad tough those out?”
“You know, I’m actually not sure,” Chris says. “Think I should call him and ask?” He laughs and then grabs his ribs in pain again.
“I think you should stay still,” Phil says, but his lips twitch into a smile anyway. “That way, your ribs won’t hurt so much.”
“Smart and handsome,” Chris comments. “You must have patients throwing themselves at you all the time.”
Phil turns away before his patient can see his reddening cheeks. “I have to get the osteoregenerator,” he mutters. Then he runs out of the room.
Carter is waiting for him outside the door. “How’s the Starfleet brat?”
“He’s not a brat,” Phil retorts automatically as he walks down the hallway. The nurse raises an eyebrow. “Chris is just a stupid kid. He’s trying to get through Torture Camp in three days.”
Nurse Carter lets out a low whistle. “So you came to get a psych eval?”
“Just a regenerator,” Phil replies. He retrieves the machine and heads back to Chris’ room where he finds Chris sitting on the edge of the bed anxiously wringing his hands. “Is everything okay?”
Chris ducks his head. “I wanted to apologize for coming on too strong,” he says seriously. “I’m not usually like this, I promise.”
“It’s okay,” Phil says as he sets up the osteoregenerator. “It seems like you’ve had a rough day.”
Chris shakes his head. “That’s no excuse. If I want to be a captain, I need to be better all the time. Not just when it’s easy.”
Phil looks up in surprise. “That’s…quite mature of you.”
“Would you let me cook you dinner as an apology?” Chris asks. Phil starts to respond. “Not as a date. Just as friends.”
The doctor considers all the reasons why this would be a bad idea. Chris is a patient, he’s clearly younger, and it would be inappropriate. He opens his mouth to say as much.
“Yes.”