Log Date:
	6/16, 6/17, 6/18/97

Log Cast:
	Shenneret Veery, Dr. T'shallat (NPC), Paul Nighman, Li Hua (NPC)

Log Intro:
	Shenner and Paul have been staying for days now in the Kind Hearts
and Coronets Inn, and Paul has thrown himself headlong into intensive
study of the artifacts he and Shen have acquired from his father at the
University. But the young bardling has become rather dismayed at the fervor
of her Corellian friend's research, for not only is he spending practically
every waking moment immersed in his work, he has exhausted himself in the
process... and even more alarmingly for Shenner, he has succumbed to a
sudden illness that has dropped him into a fevered delirium. After spending
a night trying to tend Paul during his ramblings, Shenner has secured the
help of the inn's proprietor, Ms. Tsuma, and her daughter Li Hua to see
Paul safely off to the hospital.
	Over a day's worth of extensive testing has gone by now, and Shenner
frets over Paul's condition, spending every waking moment she can spare
in the hospital, or at least every waking moment she can spend during
visiting hours.
	And on the third day...

----------
It is a restless and anxious Shenner who hops off the public transport in 
  front of the med center this morning, her thoughts full of messages she'd 
  sent, and answers she was not sure she'd be getting... and whether that 
  alarmed her or relieved her. By now, the third day that Paul Nighman has 
  been under medical treatment, she's memorized the layout of the place, and 
  heads rather easily to his room after checking in at the front desk.

The nurse at the front desk gives a small nod and wave to Dr. T'shallat, but 
  the woman turns to her with an annoyed expression. "I thought I gave you 
  express orders that Dr. Nighman was not to be disturbed before visiting 
  hours," she practically snaps at the woman, only her naturally lyrical voice 
  stopping it short of rudeness. The woman flushes with embarassment and leans 
  over. "I'm sorry," she murmurs in a hushed and humbled tone, "He said that 
  he was his father ... I tried to explain to him that Dr. Nighman was 
  sedated, but he muttered something to the effect of "It's better that way" 
  and insisted on seeing him anyway." The woman then drops her head, certain 
  that she will be harshly set upon for disobeying Dr. T'shallat's orders.

Shenner skids to a halt, and gapes. "Uhm... wait," she blurts out, 
  interjecting herself into the conversation. "Wait. Paul's father is here? 
  Uh... Xavier Nighman?"

Both the nurse and Dr. T'shallat turn to Shenner, the nurse blushing furiously 
  as her indiscretion seems to be spreading faster. Dr. T'shallat walks over 
  toward Shenner, a datapad in her hand. Touching her lightly on the shoulder 
  she gestures toward an empty exam room. "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Sure," Shenner responds, her brow furrowed in growing concern. "What's goin' 
  on? Y'all sedated Paul?"

Her expression settling into serious and grim lines, she points once again 
  toward the door, her voice professional and flat. "Have a seat if you 
  please? I'll be with you in just a moment," and with that she pivots, her 
  white hair flinging over one shoulder as she strides away to speak once 
  again in muted tones with the nurse at the front desk.

Without argument, Shenner settles into the seat, waiting fretfully for the 
  doctor to return. _Ohmigod. Paul's sedated, and his dad is here...? 
  Ohmigod..._ The implications sat leadenly in her stomach, and she felt 
  herself starting to twitch with the need to get to Paul, Right Now.

It is only a few minutes before Dr. T'shallat returns, closing the door behind 
  her. She walks in and takes a seat across from Shenner, folding one leg 
  gracefully over the other. "Alright, as far as I can tell Dr. -Xavier- 
  Nighman was here earlier this morning. He made quite a scene apparently, but 
  only went in for a few minutes, then left." She cocks her head to one side, 
  remembering all of Shenner's questions. "To answer you other question, yes, 
  we had to sedate Dr. Nighman last night. He tried to leave without 
  permission and without proper supervision. Because of the testing, his blood 
  levels are slightly low, as well as being hemolytic anemic. He passed out, 
  and after he came to later, he continued to insist on leaving immediately. 
  We had to sedate him for his own protection."

Shenner's features crinkle, as she fails to grasp the meaning of 'hemolytic 
  anemic'. She blows out a breath and asks roughly, when the doctor is 
  finished, "Is he okay?"

The ice eyed woman shrugs, her expression softening. "We haven't had much 
  success with finding any kind of cure ... the best we can do is a variation 
  on a different type of medication formulated to combat a different hemolytic 
  parasite. Unfortunately, it isn't terribly effective, seems to only slow 
  down new production."

"Can I see him?" Shenner asks plaintively.

"Of course," she replies gently, and standing up, she opens the door and 
  gestures Shenner back into the hallway before going to Paul's door and 
  opening it. "He might not be too coherent yet, I'll be in a few minutes ... 
  just want to check the last batch of tests."

Bobbing her head to the doctor by way of reply, Shenner slips worriedly into 
  the room, and her eyes go immediately to Paul's bed. She voices his name, 
  not too loudly, not knowing whether he'll be awake.

The lights are dim, and Paul is lying down on a proper bed now, but he stirs 
  when she utters his name, his eyes opening sharply in response. He blinks a 
  few times and in a warm husky voice murmurs, "Shen?"

Relief at his prompt answer mitigates her anxiety somewhat, but she still 
  frets at what his father might have said to him. Tugging over a chair to the 
  bedside, she parks in it and says a bit more clearly, "It's me, pal. It's 
  me."

Paul rises up on one arm, frowning hard as he tries to recall what was so 
  important ... what was burning in his mind just a few minutes ago it seemed, 
  but now was gone. Laying a heavy hand on Shen's arm, Paul murmurs, "There's 
  something wrong ... there's something I've got to do ... but, I ... I can't 
  remember ..." He glances up and Shen, gripping her arm harder as he begins 
  to panic slightly, "Shen, what the hell is going on ... what's wrong with 
  me?!"

_Ack?_ Taken somewhat aback, not only by Paul's admitting to a hole in his 
  memory, but also by his turning to her for answers, she peers into his face, 
  trying to gauge how alright he is. "What do you remember, Paul?" she asks 
  him gravely.

Paul stops, takes a second to gather his thoughts, but everything seems so 
  muddy and unclear. He sits up a little more, running a hand through his 
  hair. "I remember tests, but how the hell could I not?" He tries to calm 
  himself down, taking a deep breath. "I remember you being here yesterday, 
  they told you that you had to leave, and you gave me some messages ...." 
  That has him pausing, then he pushes the blanket covering him back and 
  surges to his feet, or at least tries to. "Where are those ..." but his 
  voice cuts off as he stumbles, reaching out for a nearby chair in the hopes 
  that he can catch himself.

"Paul, you sure you oughtta get up?" Shen asks. Her chair is the nearest one 
  to the bedside, and she's close enough that she can reach to steady her 
  friend; she does so. "Didja read the messages?"

Catching at Shen's arms, he slowly lowers himself back down to the bunk, 
  softly cursing. In the dim light cast in from the tinted windows, there is 
  now a bruise apparent across Paul's right temple. "Of course I read the 
  messages," he snaps, "That's why I -need- them ... that's what was so 
  important ... damnit, Shen, what did they give me anyway? Damn doctors, 
  always meddling where they're not wanted ..."

"Dr. T'shallat said they sedated you," Shenner observes, with some 
  trepidation, not sure whether this'll serve to mollify Paul or only anger 
  him further. "She doesn't think you ought to be up yet."

That is definitely not what Paul wanted to hear. "I don't give a -damn- what
  she thinks ... she's had me for two days now, and I have things I have to
  do ... she had no right to sedate me, damnit ... I'm not a child!" His face
  setting into determined lines, Paul stands up again, willing back the vertigo.
  He waits a moment before taking concerted steps, casting his eyes about for
  the messages that must be here -somewhere-.

_Not coherent yet, huh?_ Shenner thinks to herself, hiding a smirk. Her friend 
  looks coherent enough to her. Unsteady, perhaps, but definitely coherent -- 
  and she eyes that bruise on his temple as evidence of his shakiness. She 
  nibbles her lower lip, reluctant to prick Paul's pride by reaching for him 
  again, but she poises herself to spring out of that chair in an instant if 
  she needs to. Her gaze follows Paul's about the room. "Drawer here by the 
  bed?" she suggests, turning one eye on it, keeping the other on Paul.

Catching himself against a counter, Paul tries to turn the move into a turn 
  toward Shen. "I don't know," he mutters, feeling a wave of confusion come 
  over him. He reaches over with one arm, lifting up his shirt sleeve to peer 
  at a strange patch on his arm. "Seven hells," he growls, reaching for the 
  patch, but his realization comes too late. Grabbing at the counter again, he 
  begins to slide. "Shen?"

The girl leaps up and is at Paul's side in an instant, ducking herself 
  slightly to take his arm and loop it around her shoulders. "I gotcha," she 
  says readily, though propping his tall frame against her own is something of 
  a chore. "I gotcha. You with me, Paul?"

His weight is a little much, as it is growing heavier and heavier by the 
  second. He sort of slides with Shen down to the floor, settling gently 
  versus crashing. "They got me on a timer," he manages to murmur before the 
  drug makes the room wavy and slow. He stares up at Shen for a moment, her 
  eyes looking unnaturally green to him. He leans forward, staring even harder.

Shen oofs, trying to hold Paul up as best she can even as he collapses, 
  pulling her down to the floor with him. "Timer, huh? Well--" And she cuts 
  off at the Corellian's sudden intense scrutiny. Those green eyes blink. 
  "What?"

"Your eyes are the same color as Dream's leaves," he notes in a soft, husky 
  tone, his eyes rapt upon hers, enchanted. "I don't remember them being so 
  green?" He blinks, taking his gaze away from that and reaching again for his 
  arm. Pushing up his sleeve, he reaches for the patch that is attached to his 
  upper arm. "Damn doctors, screwing with my brain," he rasps, pulling at the 
  patch.

Shen blinks a moment, and the thought _They can screw with your brain more 
  often if you're going to say stuff like that,_ steals across her mind, 
  before she squashes it and its accompanying blush. "Whoa there, pal," she 
  cautions. "Can you take that thing off by yourself?"

Whether he can or whether he can't, it's too late now. *RIP!* Paul yelps as 
  the tiny needles rip out of his flesh. Blood wells up in tiny little 
  pinprick points, making the area look like a bad rash. Paul pulls the sleeve 
  down disgruntledly. He leans back heavily against the counter, looking back 
  at Shen, whose features look soft and caring. He blinks again, reaching out 
  with one hand to test the skin on her cheek, wondering if it will be as soft 
  as the peach it's mimicking.

Shenner manages to stifle a wince, modulating it into a crooked smile as 
  Paul's hand makes contact with her face. "You okay, pal?" she asks him, 
  studying him carefully.

_It -is-!_ he notes in charmed surprise, his early distress nearly completely 
  forgotten. Only the patch, still held in his right hand, and a small 
  niggling spot in the back of his mind, remain. "You are," he notes in an 
  oddly surprised, scientific tone, save for the dark, amber rumble of 
  attraction. He strokes Shen's cheek thoughtfully before cupping it.

Again, Shenner blinks. "I am what?" she answers, eyebrows crooking over those 
  leaf-green eyes. Vaguely alarmed by Paul's shift in demeanor, yet fascinated 
  all the same, she remains crouched beside him, trying to figure out how to 
  get him back to the bed.

"Soft," he returns equally, as if it were obvious. "Your cheek feels like rose 
  petals," he murmurs, his fingers idly caressing the underside of her jaw 
  now, his palm and thumb still holding her face captive. "You glow too," he 
  notes, as her face picks up the diluted light coming in from the window 
  behind him, illuminating it against the relative darkness of the room.

_Now_, thinks Shenner in bemusement, _he sounds incoherent._ There couldn't be 
  any way he'd say such things to her when in full possession of his senses, 
  that's for sure. She cracks a rueful grin at him, and says gruffly, "That's 
  the drug talkin', pal. You wanna get up?"

"Nope," he replies in answer to both her questions. "You calling me a liar?" 
  he challenges her, recalling faintly another redhead who called him a liar 
  once ... or was it twice?

"Nooo," Shen allows, cautiously. "Just sayin'... you're a little out of it, I 
  ain't no rose." The girl offers another lopsided smile.

Cocking his head to one side, Paul feels a gauntlet has been tossed. Flinging 
  back at her a charming smile, he murmurs in a soft purr, "Have you ever 
  rubbed a rose petal between your fingers?" He hand pulls at her, his fingers 
  catching along the edge of her jaw. "Or better yet, laid in a bed of them?"

Wu oh. Shen starts blushing, and she flicks a look between the dreamy-eyed 
  Paul and the bed. Back to Paul, and swallow down that little lump in her 
  throat to see him with this strangely open, softened look to him. "Not 
  really, no... you sure you don't wanna lay down? Bed's right over there..."

"Of rose petals?" he asks curiously, drawing her closer, flicking his gaze 
  from her eyes to her lips and then slowly back again. His eyes spark softly 
  in the darkness. Grinning softly he returns his gaze to her mouth, 
  considering it carefully.

"Just a... normal bed," Shenner whispers back, eyes widening a little as Paul 
  pulls her near.

"How dull," he murmurs in a teasing tone, the patch dropping, forgotten, from 
  his fingers. He reaches up with the other hand to brush at the lock falling 
  across her forehead. "There are roses the color of your hair," he growls, 
  "and they have a light fruity scent, not that sharp perfume scent that some 
  roses have ..." His other hand releases her jaw to trace around with one 
  finger, which touches her lips with a gentle stroke. "Rosebud lips," he 
  adds, in a considering tone, his eyes having dropped from her hair back to 
  her mouth once again, his eyes heavy lidded.

Finding herself pulled into sitting just before Paul, Shen swallows hard as 
  both his hands occupy themselves with tender inspection of her face. She 
  can't help but lift one of her own hands to his cheek, noticing how he looks 
  a trifle too thin, a trifle too pale. "You're yankin' my chain, pal," she 
  tells him chidingly, thinking, _He's gonna hate this when he snaps out of 
  it, I gotta get him back on track..._ "Dontcha remember what you were 
  tellin' me just now?"

The idea of jerking Shen's chain creates a peculiar picture in Paul's mind, 
  and he chuckles softly. His gaze raises to her eyes again, absorbing the 
  color like the leaves that they mimic absorb sunshine. "I was telling you 
  about rose petals," he reminds her patiently. His thumb replaces his finger, 
  rubbing gently back and forth over her bottom lip.

Shenner's mouth quivers a little, and she has to wet her lips at that contact; 
  her tongue grazes briefly across Paul's thumb. "No... I mean, before. When I 
  came into the room. Remember?"
The girl brings her other hand up, and frames Paul's face in her palms. "You 
  wanted to find your messages," she prompts.

Perhaps he would have heard her more clearly if it hadn't been for that subtle 
  swipe of her tongue across the pad of his thumb. The sensation of it was 
  electric, enticing. Pulling her closer, Paul continues to rub along the 
  outline of her mouth, completely distracted now. "Messages?" he asks 
  blankly, his other hand dropping from her hair, to trail along the length of 
  her neck before stroking back up to line her jaw.

Shenner's eyes shiver closed for a moment. Drugged though he might be, Paul's 
  exquisitely delicate touches are playing havoc with her, and she 
  instinctively drops a hand to his chest to stop herself from slumping any 
  closer to him. "Yeah... messages. You were real upset when I got here." She 
  lifts her other hand up to his brow, gently brushing the bruised spot, just 
  as gently smoothing his hair out of his muzzied eyes. "Oh, Paul, doncha 
  remember?"

The memories are there, but they're buried under layers of sensations, which 
  are far more appealing. The competition is fierce, and frustrated memories 
  don't have much of a chance. Her palm on his chest emanates heat, and Paul 
  is acutely aware of the weight of it and the feel of it pressing through the 
  fabric to his flesh, the ever so slight friction between the cloth and skin. 
  Her touch on his forehead, through his hair, all distorted, intensified. 
  "Shen," he murmurs, "I'm not upset now that you're here ...." and he places 
  one hand over the one she has placed on his chest, trapping it there as he 
  leans forward, his eyes intent on hers.

Part of her is surprised that he recognizes her through his haze -- as it 
  confirms that he _is_ meaning _her_ when he speaks of roses, and leaves. She 
  swallows again, unable to keep herself from blushing, unable to stop 
  wondering whether Paul drugged isn't _more_ disturbing than Paul delirious, 
  for the impossible words he's offering her now are seemingly aware. "I'm 
  glad," she blurts, "but you gotta remember, Paul...."

_Not important_ is his first thought, and dropping his fingers to catch and 
  hold her luminescent face steady, he murmurs, "Later," before his lips 
  replace his thumb, exchanging one kind of pressure for another.

She does not move her face away; she does not reject the kiss, and indeed, she 
  answers it. But it causes an ache right behind her breastbone, as she thinks 
  in dismay, _I can't let him do this! He ain't himself!_ The thought of how 
  embarrassed Paul will be when the drug wears off, dominant in her mind, does 
  not stand alone, either. Days worth of fretting and worrying over the 
  Corellian suddenly surge up to add to that pang in her chest, and back 
  behind it all, a tiny regret that surely he would not be treating her this 
  way if he were himself peeks out. Her eyes clamp shut, and moisture begins 
  to trickle down her face, to Paul's hand supporting her jaw.

The kiss is sweet and tender ... and short. As Shenner's tears reach Paul's 
  hand, he stops, drawing away, as that sensation is as powerful as all of the 
  other ones. He stares at her face, uncomprehending for a moment. Reaching 
  out with careful hands he cups her face, wiping away the tears with rapt 
  attention, his features creasing with growing concern. "Don't cry Shen," he 
  murmurs in a soft low voice. A pang of guilt grows, spreading a halo from 
  her palm on his chest, spreading outward in engulfing waves. _I've hurt her_ 
  is the only clear message he can discern, and his face crumpling slightly, 
  he draws her close, into a fragile caress, holding her near, but not hard. 
  "I'm sorry," he mumbles against her ear, "I didn't mean to hurt you ... I'm 
  so sorry ..." His voice inadvertently echos his sentiments from his delirium.

"I-I'm okay, it's not your fault, it's not your fault," the girl blurts out 
  quickly. She is trembling. "You hafta snap out of it, Paul... you have to 
  remember... don't worry about me, I'm not important... please?"

That catches his attention, but not in the way Shenner means it to. Drawing 
  her away, Paul frowns at that somewhat harshly, "Not important? You're 
  -very- important," he insists, shaking her slightly.

Shen blinks wetly, trying to regain her composure -- and trying, now, to avoid 
  this disturbing change of topic. "You gotta remember your message," she 
  protests, voice a little hoarse. "I can wait!"

"No," he insists, more fiercely, "enough!" Part of his mind is beginning to 
  function again, as he recalls that this is constantly an issue, although he 
  muzzily trades issues with Jessalyn, patterning them onto Shenner. However, 
  in this particular case, low self esteem, the patterns are a match. "You 
  -shouldn't- wait .... you -do- matter." Frowning, he puts on the most 
  coherent expression that he can and utters words that are true, but similar 
  to the song, were never meant to be spoken. "You are one of the most 
  important people in my life."

Uncertain now whether the drug in his blood is beginning to lose its grip, the 
  girl takes in his sudden stern frown, and blinks up at him. The battle her 
  mind and heart had been fighting not very many days ago starts up for 
  another round, as his words kindle a startled fright within her. All she can 
  manage in reply is a croaked, "Paul? I..."

His hands rub and down her arms in a soothing gesture, his face still frowning 
  in concentration, but his expression growing softer. He mulls the words for 
  a moment, tasting their honesty. He's quiet for a moment, perhaps waiting 
  for her to finish her thought, when a blaze of light comes on, dazzling his 
  eyesand making him wince in reaction. "What the .... Dr. Nighman, are you 
  alright?" comes the puzzled and somewhat concerned voice of Dr. T'shallat. 
  The elegant, elfin woman draws close to the pair of you, eyeing your 
  positions and the tear stains on Shenner's face with an impassive gaze. None 
  of that seems to concern her so much as the patch lying on the floor and the 
  large blood stain on the left sleeve of Paul's shirt. "-Doctor- Nighman," 
  she calls again, this time with a sharp edge of irritation in her voice, "I 
  see that you have called my medical opinion into question again."

Still sitting on the floor where Paul has pulled her, her shoulders still 
  clasped in his hands, Shen shoots her head around, her gaze lifting to the 
  doctor. "He wanted to find his messages," she begins lamely, "but he kinda 
  fell over..."

Paul scowls up at the doctor, her words and Shen's striking home. He picks up 
  the patch and shakes it at Dr. T'shallat. "-This- was not necessary," he 
  informs her. His glance drops back down to Shen, frustrated by the 
  interruption, as well as a tad grateful.

The doctor drops down to crouch beside the two of you. "Alright then, I 
  suppose we should discuss our next step." She turns toward Shenner and nods.
  "He still has a lot of the drug in his system, will you help me lift him into
  a chair?" Paul turns, half-glaring at the pale woman beside him, but he
  doesn't voice his conviction that he is just fine and can get his own 
  seat, thank you very much, because he knows that he would just fall flat on 
  his face again.

At Paul's words, Shenner flicks him a small uncertain look before the doctor 
  distracts her with her request. But it's to Paul that she murmurs, "Grab 
  onto me to get up?"

With a terse nod, Paul takes a hold of Shen's arm, and Dr. T'shallat takes a 
  hold of one as well. "Okay, just up and over to the left and back, okay?" 
  she orders, tilting her head toward an open chair on the end of the counter. 
  "One, two, three ..." and with that, Paul is up, carefully guided backward, 
  and then deposited into the seat. Kneeling next to his left arm she 
  carefully rolls up his shirt sleeve to examine the exposed, raw flesh left 
  by the inexpert removal of the sedator. Tsking lightly she reaches for the 
  buttons of his shirt. "This needs to come off," she notes, and then draws 
  her hands back in surprise as Paul's reach up to slap them lightly. "I can 
  do that!" he informs her indignantly, and with a touch of embarrassment as 
  well. Tending to the job of unbuttoning and removing his shirt, the sky eyed 
  doctor averts her gaze, catching Shenner's eyes for a moment, her own 
  gleaming with mirth and amusement as Paul's reaction.

Shenner can't quite manage a full smile. Her hands leave Paul the moment he is 
  safely seated, as if she fears he'll grow angry if she assists him a moment 
  more than necessary. She flicks a wan grin back at the older female, though, 
  as she tells herself firmly that it's a _good_ thing that Paul seems to be 
  waking up now.

The shirt off finally, Paul relents as Dr. T'shallat examines his arm 
  carefully, removing with a microscanner the few barbs and needles still 
  trapped with the epidermal layer. Paul puts on a stoic front, ignoring her 
  not so tender ministrations. Once done, she cleans the area throughly, 
  covers it with salve, and wraps it securely. Paul deigns to examine the 
  bandages once she has completed her task, and has to admit that she did an 
  excellent job. In the ten or so minutes that it's taken, he can feel as well 
  the drug losing ground within him, his focus and recall improving gradually.

Wiping her hands on her lab coat, Dr. T'shallat pulls over a chair for Shenner 
  to sit in, but remains standing herself. She walks over to a shelf, lifting 
  a holocrom and a message disk, which she inserts. Returning to the two of 
  them, she hands Paul the small holocrom, informing him, "This is what 
  required me to sedate you," she reminds him, "and under the circumstances, I 
  had no choice." Almost reluctantly, she releases her grip on the unit as 
  Paul reaches forward to draw it from her grasp.

Watching, listening, Shenner sinks wordlessly into the chair the doctor brings 
  for her. Her gaze takes in the object Dr. T'shallat hands to Paul, as well 
  as the woman's ministrations to his arm, and his now-shirtless torso. But 
  the girl says nothing, not wishing to interrupt, and clinging to her 
  conviction that getting Paul better is the important thing to do here. 
  _Never mind what he was tellin' me... he'll think it was goofy now anyway, 
  I'll bet..._

Laying her hand over the monitor, Dr. T'shallat forces Paul's gaze to meet 
  hers. "I don't know what this message said, or why it made you so determined 
  to leave, despite the fact that you were physically unable to. What I will 
  tell you is this. We have still not found a cure for your condition, but as 
  of this morning the tests show that the parasite is not forming in any of 
  your new red blood cells. This is not in response to any chemical therapy 
  that you are currently undergoing as far as we can tell. It appears to be a 
  natural remission, which makes me very suspicious of the potential of a 
  re-occurance." Paul returns her gaze steadily, tipping his head fractionally 
  to let her know that he is still with her. She sighs, withdrawing the 
  cautionary hand. "If you are still determined to leave after re-reading the 
  message, you will need to undergo a blood scrubber before I'll even consider 
  allowing you to leave. I'm not even pleased with you leaving after that 
  procedure, as you're still going to be in a weakened state for a few days." 
  Paul's eyes narrow, and the woman catches the small alteration in his facial 
  expression. "However, I will not force you to remain here, should you decide 
  otherwise." With that warning, she rises, nods to Shenner, and steps out of 
  the room to afford him some privacy. "I'll be back to discuss how you would 
  like to proceed in a few minutes," she assures him ... or perhaps threatens? 
  ... and then is gone.

Shenner blinks as the doctor sweeps out of the room, glancing after her. But 
  just as quickly, the girl returns her gaze to Paul, her forehead crinkling. 
  Unsurely, she pauses a moment, then decides to wait for Paul to read what's 
  before him before she says anything. Something to do with his father? Or the 
  Mandalore trip?

Paul pauses briefly before activating the holocrom. He stares at the screen, 
  his face filling, widening with rememberance and distress as yet another 
  doctor faces him and begins to speak. "By now, hopefully this message will 
  have reached one Dr. Paul Nighman. Dr. Nighman, my name is Dr. Darren Quent, 
  and I am trying to reach you to inform you that your colleague, Dr. Marcus 
  Crowley was found, unconscious and relatively uninjured in a hospital on 
  Ithor. It is unknown how he came to be there, there are no admittance papers 
  of any kind. However, there has been a neural condition that has resulted in 
  a dramatic lapse of memory. He has been returned to Caspar and is currently 
  under the care of this hospital. His colleagues claim that the last person 
  he was scheduled to meet with was you, on Palanhi, over a month ago. If you 
  could please contact me as soon as possible, I would be most grateful. There 
  are question and complications that we are hoping you may have the answers 
  to. The address is listed below. Again, I hope this message reaches you 
  soon, and that you will get in touch with me at your earliest convenience." 
  The image abruptly fades, and it takes all of the control Paul possesses not 
  to fling the communications unit away and make a dash for the door. _Think 
  Paul ... THINK!_

Shen straightens as the message plays. Marcus? _But that's...._ "Oh kark," she 
  murmurs. _That's the friend who had his ship...!_
The girl fixes her regard on Paul, waiting, determined to bury her earlier 
  lapse at him. She shifts position in her chair, ready to spring up should he 
  ask her to do so. "You hafta go to Caspar," she declares forthrightly. "Want 
  me to go get your stuff?"

Turning to Shen instinctively, he places the unit aside and leans forward. 
  "Yes, " he replies succintly. "Exactly ... pack everything up and then meet 
  me back here when you're done." His eyes bore into hers, and he recalls that 
  they have some unfinished business between them. The question is, is it a 
  conversation he -really- wants to finish? The words of an old writing 
  professor come to mind out of nowhere ...."Just because it's the truth doesn't 
  make it a good story." _Or the best thing for Shenner_ he considers 
  erratically. _How do I tell her that I -value- her without tightening the 
  bonds between us even further than I already have?_ Realizing that he'll 
  have plenty of time to consider that question while she's packing, he merely 
  nods. "Go ahead, I'll be here when you're finished."

As his gaze pins hers, Shenner flushes for a moment, blurting out, "I can hold 
  the station down here... contact Grath, or somethin'?" She gets to her feet, 
  suddenly uneasy. Paul has to go to Caspar, but what about her? Not 
  important, she orders herself sternly. "I'll getcha checked out of the 
  inn... I'll be back soon as I can...!"

Her words startle him, and once again he catches her arms, dragging her close 
  to him. "What are you talking about?," he asks, his voice somewhere between 
  mystified and irritated, "You're coming with me of course ... unless ..."
  _Hold on a second hot shot, after all she -was- crying ... maybe 
  she doesn't want to go, maybe she needs the space?_ That thought is 
  unexpected. He tries again. "Unless you would prefer to stay here ... that 
  would be fine if you would rather," he notes, careful to keep his tone of 
  voice neutral."

Startlement of Shenner's own wars with sudden relief on her face -- and 
  embarassment, though she clearly tries to hide it. "Just don't wanna get in 
  your way, yah know?" she says, her own tone mostly managing to be casual. 
  "You need me to help, I'll be happy to come, just didn't wanna assume 
  nothin', see?" She achives a small crook of a grin.

Paul squeezes Shen's arms sharply. "I need you to come, if for no other reason 
  than to mollify the white witch," he informs her. "If I'm not going to be 
  too steady on my feet, I'll have to make sure I have some I can count on by 
  my side." He then draws her to him, giving her a heartfelt hug. "In 
  addition, I want you to come, for no reason other than your company and 
  friendship."

Without hesitation, Shenner curls her arms around Paul's shoulders, answering 
  the embrace. For a moment, she lets herself lean down to rest her cheek atop 
  his head, before pulling back to smile lopsidedly down at the Corellian. 
  "Then I'll go get _our_ stuff," she answers, tone a touch husky.

"Good," Paul replies resoundly, feeling a twinge of affection at her 
  spontaneous response and embrace. "I'll be here," he adds, with decidedly 
  less enthusiasm, but a wry smile to counter it.

The girl backs up, holding her smile and reluctant to look away from Paul 
  until she reaches the door. Only then does she turn, and in an instant, she 
  is gone.

[And about an hour later....]

Lying back in the chair, Paul's eyes cannot help but stray to the chrono on 
  the wall. _A watched specimen collector never fills_ he muses to himself, 
  the old adage proving more than true. He looks back down to his arm, sighing 
  deeply. The blood scrubber, as they casually called it around here, was a 
  much more insidious device than he had expected. The damn thing was taking 
  in every ounce of his blood and searching through it intensively, purging 
  any and all infected red blood cells, before allowing it to return to it's 
  originally programmed flow. He was grateful that Shenner had a job to do ... 
  he was certain she would have freaked out if she had stayed. He'd already 
  passed out twice and had received two blood transfusions in retaliation. At 
  this point, it should be going through its final run. _By the Seven Hells 
  it better be_ he thought wearily. His arms ached from all the tests, 
  patches, and samples, and injections that they had been subjected to. He 
  hurt, damnit. It seemed that practically every part of his body ached now. 
  Sighing softly he glanced once more at the chrono. A minute has passed. 
  Paul, groaning, shuts his eyes firmly.

And out in the lobby, Shenner, murmuring thanks to a Li Hua who's insisted on 
  ferrying the girl and her and Paul's belongings in her own skimmer, hastens 
  up through the hallways of the medical center, aiming for Paul's room. One 
  thought has buoyed her throughout her errands: _Paul wants me with him._ 
  It's sustained her all throughout her attempts to downplay all the tender 
  words he'd spoken to her while he'd been sedated. It's enough, she tells 
  herself firmly. And with that conviction in mind, the girl arrives at the 
  door of his room, peering in. "Paul?"

The Corellian turns his head at Shenner's entry, but makes no move to sit up, 
  as he can tell by the draining sensation in his limbs, that any attempt to 
  do so would not end with success. "Heya Shen, everything set?" he asks 
  conversationally. His eyes flicker open and he regards the chrono, releasing 
  a soft impatient hiss. Two minutes. Damn.

Coming to stand beside him, Shen smiles onesidedly. "Li's downstairs. She 
  brought me and our stuff in her skimmer after I got our bill settled." She 
  turns slightly sheepish as she adds, "Mrs. Tsuma only charged us half price 
  for the time you been sick, pal. They both been real nice."

Paul squints up at Shen. "Yeah, old family friends are like that," he murmurs 
  with a smile, till a thought catches his mind. "Did you use my money?" he 
  asks suddenly and with a slight frown.

"Uhm..." Shenner blinks, either taken aback by the question, or not willing to 
  provide an affirmative in reply. Her smile wavers a little, and she glances 
  forward as she mutters, "Well, some..."

"She-e--en," he growls at her in a frustrated tone, but instead of chastising 
  her, he merely shakes his head disbelieving. "Well, I don't want to keep Li 
  waiting ... does she know that it might be a little while?"

"I wanted to help," the girl protests plaintively. "And yeah, she's brung a 
  new score she wants to study..." Shenner looks around till she finds the 
  chair she'd occupied before. Tugging it over, she settles down on it. "They 
  tell yah how long you might be?"

Eyeing the chrono on the wall as if it were a rabid Wookiee, Paul grumphs. 
  "Yeah ... the eternal hour or so," he mutters under his breath. Looking at 
  the machine, he stares at if for a moment. "I keep expecting it to give up 
  any minute now, but it's insistnent, I'll give it that." With a small 
  grimace as another wave of dizziness, Paul settles his head back down and 
  closes his eyes for a moment, willing the bout to pass.

"Anything I can do?" Shen asks quietly.

"Wish there was," he murmurs wistfully, "but I guess I just have to be patient 
  for a change of pace."

"Maybe I could go see if they'd let me bring my guitar up here?" Shenner 
  offers. "I been pickin' up a couple new songs wanderin' around the last 
  coupla days. Jokes, too, if you're really bored... 'How many Corellians does 
  it take to screw in a light bulb?' 'None, Corellians can't fit in light 
  bulbs!'"

A different variation of that joke comes to mind, but Paul considers sharing 
  it for less than a second. He imagines that if Shen heard those words come 
  out of his mouth, she would blush at the least, flee at the most. Giving her 
  a small smirk, he looks Shen straight in the face. "That was terrible." The 
  machine beside him lets out a loud buzz, as if in agreement, and Paul turns, 
  looking at the thing with a hint of astonishment.

"It distracted yah," Shen says with satisfaction, before she starts at the 
  machine's interruption. "That mean it's done?"

"It was heinous," Paul retorts, just as the door opens, admiting Dr. T'shallat 
  in. "Oh, it wasn't -that- bad," she parries, catching only Paul's complaint 
  and assuming he was attacking the machine by his side. Paul glances down at 
  the fiendish contraption. "The leech," he snipes back, "was even worse than 
  the joke." He can't help but jerk slightly as the doctor removes the takeup 
  connection, his arm sore and super-sensitive. She casts him a quick glance 
  and murmurs, alright, wait for me to give you a booster and another 
  infusion, and then, if you -must-, you can be on your way. She frowns 
  slightly when Paul's only response isn't a snide comeback, but a tired nod.

Quickly getting out of the way when the doctor comes in, Shenner watches, her 
  features wrinkled a bit, her eyes concerned. "So he can go when you're 
  done," she asks of T'shallat, "right?"

"Essentially," she replies, giving Paul another infusion of red blood cells 
  and a stimulant to help overcome his dizziness. She also gives him a 
  stimulant to increase his red blood cell production. Paul tries not to wince 
  at every injection. "I'm going to insist that he takes the chair down, no 
  walking until he leaves the building, and even that should be kept to a 
  minimum." She gives Paul an eyeful, her gaze measuring and warning. "He 
  needs to be on a high protein diet, and lots and lots of fluid ... no 
  alcohol for at least 48 hours." She rises, handing Shenner a prescription. 
  "Make sure he takes this three times a day ... it's to hopefully forestall a 
  resurgence of the parasite. It has some unpleasant side effects sometime, 
  but nothing serious or life threatening. Dr. Nighman has already been made 
  aware of these, but I don't trust him to take the medication regularly." 
  It's Paul's turn to give the doctor an eyeful, and the message is loud and 
  clear .... _Go to Hell_

Shenner tries not to fidget, her green gaze skimming over the equipment to 
  which Paul's been hooked, taking note of its various controls. As her 
  imagination provides her with a few disconcerting images of what the machine 
  must have been doing to him -- and how it must have felt, given the strained 
  expression her friend is wearing -- the girl winces a bit herself at the 
  thought that this unknown parasite is giving him a much worse time. But Dr. 
  T'shallat's instructions then claim her full attention. Taking the 
  medication in one slim hand, Shen draws her brows together. "What kind of 
  'side effects'?"

"We'll talk about it later Shen," Paul mutters grumpily, staring up at the 
  white haired elf in the lab coat. "Can I go now?" he asks, barely 
  restraining himself from putting the hydrolift chair into hyperdrive. Dr. 
  T'shallat quirks the corners of her mouth into a small grin. "Your bill is 
  settled, you have your medication, you won't listen to reason, and I'm 
  finished torturing you ... flee at will," she informs him. Paul cracks a 
  crooked smile in response and reaches out a hand, which the woman takes 
  cautiously and with a degree of suspicion. "I know that I'm a shit of a 
  patient, but believe me," he informs her with a teasingly seductive wink, 
  "I'm worth every white hair I create." The woman laughs at that, shaking his 
  hand. "Dr. Nighman, I don't ever want to see you again," she replies 
  good-naturedly.

Shenner smirks, thinking, _Corellians,_ as she slips the medication into a 
  pocket. The thought of T'shallat asking _her_ to make sure Paul takes the 
  stuff bothers her. _If she doesn't trust him to take it, it _must_ be a 
  godsawful annoying side effect,_ she tells herself, wondering whether her 
  inclination to be grumpy at the alien female for saying such things about 
  Paul is stronger than her niggling suspicion that the doctor is right. If 
  Paul can't be trusted to remember to sleep or eat when he's in the grip of 
  work, could he really be relied on to take a medicine he doesn't want in the 
  first place? _And karkin' hells, I get to play nurse. Hoo boy._
"Paul," Shen puts in blandly, "_all_ of her hair is white."

Paul looks back to Shen, his hands already reaching for the controls. "Well, 
  lucky for her then, eh? And me ... no one will ever know how much of a 
  nuisance I was ..." The doctor, opening the door flashes the two a rather 
  predatory smile. "Uh huh ... I'll just tell them that I used to be a 
  brunette." She looks at Paul again and sighs. "What are you still doing 
  here?" she asks him with a mock tone of surprise. "You don't have to ask me 
  twice," he retorts playfully, willing to forgive and forget all of those 
  ugly things that she did to him now that the doorway to freedom stands wide 
  open. "Come on Shen, we got places to go, people to see." His expression 
  sombers at that thought, the words repeating back at him with greater import 
  than he had initially intended. He powers up the chair and heads for the 
  door.

Shenner turns to follow Paul into the corridor, unsurprised that he's managed 
  to figure out how to power the hoverchair already. Then she turns, on 
  impulse, and flicks Dr. T'shallat a shy crooked smile and a murmured, 
  "Thanks."

Flashing a quick glance at the Corellian's rapid retreat, the woman regards 
  Shenner. "You're gonna have your hands full with that one," she notes idly. 
  "I don't envy you ... and you're very welcome. Keep a hand on him ... I 
  think he'll listen to you. Safe journey and fair findings."

The redheaded girl smiles, a little anxiously, but with gratitude... then 
  hastens off to follow her friend.

When the two of them reach the ground level, they find Li Hua waiting 
  patiently, reading through the latest composition to be performed. She looks 
  up as they approach, smiling broadly. "Man, the things some people will do 
  to avoid a little competition," she teases, looking at Paul. Rising, she 
  walks forward a few steps and drops a hand to his shoulder. "You okay?" she 
  asks more soberly, to which Paul shrugnods. "Ain't dead yet," he returns 
  wryly.

"We can vape," Shen announces, glancing around for a place to leave the chair. 
  She keeps close to it, just outside arm's reach, ostensibly not so much as 
  breathing overlong or over-solicitiously in Paul's direction -- but 
  following that chair as though it had her in a tractor beam regardless.

Parking his ride over by the entranceway, Paul braces himself before carefully 
  rising out of the seat, waiting for his balance to steady before moving 
  toward the doorway, cautiously, but confidently. Li very casually flanks 
  him, far enough away to look companionable, close enough to catch him should 
  he fumble. "Where are we going?" she asks conversationally.

The origin of Shenner's personal tractor beam shifts from Paul's hoverchair to 
  Paul himself as the chair is abandoned. Taking the Corellian's other side, 
  Shen easily rests her hands in her lower vest pockets, part of her mind 
  still on the vial of medication riding in the upper one... and how hard it 
  might prove to be to get Paul to take it. Content to let him and Li chatter 
  and to speak up herself when needed, the redhead ambles longstridedly along 
  with the other two as the older woman leads them out to her skimmer.

[To be continued...]