Log Date:
	8/5/99

Log Cast:
	Kesya, Tance, Glaeres

Log Intro:
	News surpassing any of Tance's wildest dreams has come to him during
his latest stay in the Infirmary. Near-fatally wounded yet again by the
same claim responsible for his prior stay on Level 12, Tance has discovered
that for the past three years the woman he loves has not been dead -- but
rather has been in a coma in a private ward, and the Chief Meditech, Quinn
Maloret, had deliberately lied to Tance about Kesya's status in order to
keep him from unnecessarily grieving.
	At any other time, Tance might have been incensed at this deception.
But as it's happened, he's been kept under sedation to keep him resting
quietly as long as he's recovering from the nasty injury he's received, and
so the simple fact that Kesya is alive has dominated his consciousness... at
least, what consciousness he's been allowed. He hasn't had any energy left
over to be angry... until, at least, he's realized that he's been kept
sedated...

----------
Short Term Care
This area is dedicated to fixing minor emergencies, such as broken bones and 
  severed fingers. Medical cabinets on the walls are filled with bandages, 
  ointments and medicines. The gleaming white walls help to sooth anxious 
  nerves while providing medics with bright light to work by. The room has a 
  sterile, antiseptic smell. Movable gurneys can be used to transport an 
  injured Guild member from place to place. There is a button next to each bed 
  that can be used to summon medical help. Tance is checked into bed one, and 
  Katya is checked into bed two.

It hasn't been all that long since a certain green-skinned Singer's return to 
  the living, but the few weeks have been busy indeed. Convincing Tance he 
  wasn't daydreaming or hallucinating was one thing... re-learning to walk was 
  another. But now, as Kesya makes her way delicately into the room, it's 
  evident progress has been made on both counts, her steps stronger, if 
  perhaps a tad unsure. The woman's frame is still far too gaunt -- a strong 
  wind would blow her over -- but her smile is bright as she lays eyes on her 
  fiancee. "G'morning."

It hasn't been all that long, perhaps, but for Tance, the time has passed 
  mostly in a dreaming daze -- courtesy of the brew that the medics decided to 
  pipe into his system to make sure he actually stays off his feet long enough 
  to heal this time. So CS Vokrim isn't exactly sure how long he's been down 
  in the Infirmary for this round. What he does know is that he's awakened 
  today (morning? afternoon? night? he's not sure of that either) with a 
  clearer head than he's had in some time. And that there's an IV sticking 
  into his arm. Disgruntled by this, he's been trying to figure out how to 
  make the thing detach for the last half hour. Kesya's voice, however, makes 
  him look up, alertness in his dark eyes for the first time in days. And he 
  just pauses, staring at her, emotion visibly flooding his face. It takes him 
  a few seconds before he blurts huskily, "Hi..."

Kesya's own silver-blue eyes warm as her beloved speaks, as she recognises a 
  gaze free of sedatives. "They must've decided you're better," the 
  green-skinned singer says, a fond smile quirking her lips as she makes her 
  slow, deliberate way toward Tance's bed. Slow and deliberate, but completely 
  unaided, too. Concern tinges her gaze then, her brows creasing a little. 
  "You're feeling alright?"

Tance begins to sit up as Kesya hobbles to his bedside, dislodging the sheet 
  and blanket over him enough to indicate that he is currently 
  Infirmary-gown-free; his shoulders and his chest are bare. "I'm fine," he 
  replies unthinkingly, far more of his thought processes seized by the 
  changed look of the woman before him than for his own condition. "You?"

Kesya
Although taller than most women at 5'9, it is Kesya's exotic colouring that 
  makes her stand out in a crowd, and marks her as native of Taal'en. Her skin 
  is a deep forest green, though more creamy in appearance than most because 
  of the Human blood in her background -- also evident by her silvery-blue 
  eyes, which lack the slits commen to most Taal'en natives. Thick sea-green 
  hair frames her narrow face in loose waves, softening her sharp features, 
  and is done in small braids that gather at the nape of her neck. She has a 
  quick and friendly smile, her small teeth appearing sharp and stark white 
  against her dark skin. Her frame is willow-thin, her delicate bones giving 
  her something of a childlike appearance were it not for the lithe way she 
  carries herself. Her voice has a musical lilting quality to it, perhaps from 
  the Taal'en trill that hasn't quite faded from years on Ballybran.
     Kesya seems to have lost weight. A lot of weight. Her rake-thin form is 
  draped in the sturdy black fabric of the standard Guild shipsuit, the 
  Heptite Guild black dodecahedron visibly prominent above the left breast 
  pocket. Frankly, the outfit probably looks more filled out on a hangar than 
  on Kesya, her gaunt cheeks a frank reminder of how long she's been inactive. 
     Silver dolphins twine about the ring finger of her left hand, the body of 
  one flanked in black crystal, the body of the other rimmed in green. Tiny 
  fragments of deep blue form each creature's visible eye. 

Well now, that's a pleasing sight. Tance may be bandaged from the chest down, 
  but nobody could ever argue that what's still visible isn't darned 
  good-looking. Kesya pauses a moment to eye her beloved's lean frame, a small 
  smile quirking her lips. She's evidently in good humour today, no doubt from 
  being able to move about under her own power for once. And as odd as that 
  smile seems beside those gaunt cheeks, she does seem stronger. "Getting 
  there," she replies, turning to perch beside Tance on his bed. "Soon I'll be 
  able to go to the Ranges. Which is good, because that black crystal isn't 
  enough to keep my resonance from dropping."

"I'm coming with you," is Tance's immediate response. His weathered features 
  tighten up with a bit of effort as he finishes sitting up; indeed, as the 
  sheet drops away, it can be seen that his middle is still securely bandaged. 
  "Just gotta get outta bed. Musta taken off the cast when I was dozin'. You 
  clear to fly? I-I don't, uh, I don't know if they still have your sled, but 
  I got room in the Meggie now, we can take mine...." His eyes never leave 
  Kesya, though, and once he starts talking the words begin to bubble out of 
  him like wine out of an uncorked bottle. "I did good... found black.... a-a 
  while back. Don't remember when. Fixed up my sled, though..."

Twiddle. Twiddle. Glaeres Skhail peers out of the corner of her eye at the 
  couple. Twiddle. To her, not much more interesting than her own thumbs, 
  which she continues to twirl. Waiting. Waiting. Impatient. Twiddle.

Kesya shivvers a little, and unthinkingly reaches across to the nearest bed to 
  gather the black crystal there into her arms. Come to think of it she does 
  seem a little distracted at times, evidently feelng the pull of the Ranges. 
  But Tance's words certainly aren't lost on her. "I wouldn't go into the 
  Ranges without you, Tance," she assures readily, her fingers warming the 
  crystal to an opaque hue. "And we won't go until you're better... but I hope 
  it's soon." She meets his gaze then, and lifts slender fingers to cup his 
  grizzled cheek. "You going to be my protector out there?" It's a murmured 
  question, almost purred, and she leans her head to rest against that cheek 
  as though for comfort. "Maybe we'll... do good again, and find some black. 
  That'd help."

First he'd seen her with clear eyes; now, with his head more or less all 
  together, Tance can't help but catch his breath at the touch of Kesya's 
  green hand to his cheek. The monitor over his bed registers a spike in his 
  heart rate, too, when she leans towards him. One bare arm comes up 
  automatically to curl around her. The other, though, is still attached to 
  that IV, and as Tance feels the slight tug when he tries to move that limb, 
  he grimaces vaguely at it. But he's got enough reach that he can bring that 
  hand up, too... and he just sits there taking in the feel of her, his pulse 
  continuing to pound. _Three years,_ he thinks wildly, _it's been three 
  years..._ What he -says-, though, is a hoarsely rasped, "Sure, honey... I'll 
  protect ya... better this time, I hope..."

"You've always protected me, love," comes the murmured reply. Her nose 
  wrinkles then, and she rubs one temple across Tance's shoulder. "I haven't 
  even stepped out of this infirmary in... well, three years. If Quinn'll let 
  us, do you want to give me the tour tonight?" Hope, hope. She's so 
  unfamiliar, this strangely delicate, breakable Jade that needs him now more 
  than she ever has. It's generally been the reverse, before. But she's 
  achingly familiar, too. And that look of hopeful expectation in her eyes as 
  she looks up at him is new too... but somewhat endearing. "It'd be fun," she 
  adds, as though to sweeten the pot.

Achingly familiar. That's a good way of putting it. At that small rubbing 
  against his bare skin, Tance's heart races a little faster; IV or no, his 
  arms tighten a bit more about the fragile creature that's sitting here with 
  him. "Sure, honey," he rasps out lowly, forgetting about everything in the 
  room except those limpid blue eyes gazing up at him. "Anything you want..."

"What do -you- want?" Kesya pokes at him, her voice raising in a fond, amused 
  note. "You'll have to fill me in on the last three years, you know."

What does _he_ want? Tance's chest goes tight and his throat seems to him to 
  close up in instantaneous response to _that_ question; his pulse's rate 
  inches up even more, according to that monitor behind him. Oblivious to it 
  now, raptly fascinated by the changes in his Jade's face and frame, he lifts 
  up a callused hand to gingerly touch her face, her hair. "Better... get 
  outta here before I can get what I want," he rumbles, voice going rather 
  huskier, eyes turning dark with an upswelling of three years' worth of grief 
  and need and loss.

Kesya's expression melts at that look, and she curls toward him, her arms 
  wrapping about his shoulders. "I'm sorry love," she murmurs, into his neck. 
  The monitors are beyond her attention too, and it's almost for the good... 
  it doesn't take much for her concern to peak over this individual. She lets 
  out a sigh, warm against his neck, and manages, "I can't imagine... I so 
  wish I hadn't put you through all that."

Kesya's form might be different, but her voice is the same, and her smell is 
  the same, and they're both more than enough to call up out of the recesses 
  of Tance's consciousness the memories of dreams of her that have haunted him 
  ever since the fateful trip to Verron IV. Cradling her close, turning his 
  face to breathe in the scent of her hair, the older Singer shivers both in 
  recollection... and unmistakable desire. "Not your fault," he murmurs, 
  instinctively reacting to her apparent frailty with as much confidence as he 
  can muster. "Didn't know. You didn't know. Not your fault, Jade honey..." 
  And he brushes his lips over the top of her head, seeking her green-skinned 
  brow.

The woman in Tance's arms can't help but smile as she feels the brush of his 
  lips on her forehead, and she looks up at him with a lingering note of 
  resignation behind that silver-blue gaze. "I know now though... and I'm ever 
  so sorry." Part of her infectious nature bubbles forth then as she pauses, 
  then asks innocently, "Will it make things better if I promise never to die 
  again?"

"Things are fine," Tance promptly and dismissively insists, unwilling to delve 
  into any hint of how he'd fallen apart since Kesya's alledged death, 
  determined instead to seize the current moment. His big rough fingers cradle 
  her chin, and as he lowers his mouth to hers he repeats, "Just fine..." With 
  that, then, he's kissing her.

It's a good thing Kesya isn't connected to those monitors, for their outputs 
  might've sent the medics scurrying in in a hurry. But for now it's just the 
  two of them, tucked away in their curtain-drawn enclosure, and she's 
  returning his kisses as gladly as he gives them.

The first kiss is hesitant and tender at first, as Tance is half-afraid of 
  somehow breaking this slender creature in his arms. But at her obvious 
  ardent reply, he begins to yield to the emotions crashing through him; his 
  next kiss is more passionate, almost giddy...
Giddy. Tance, unfortunately, _is_ connected to those monitors. And once his 
  heart rate spikes up over the level at which they'd been programmed to do 
  their thing, the forgotten IV surreptitiously releases a dose into the 
  Singer's bloodstream. At first, Tance doesn't notice, caught up as he is in 
  fusing his mouth to his beloved's. But after a few moments he pauses, 
  lifting his head, confusion beginning to wrestle with the yearning in his 
  expression.

Kesya pulls back to eye Tance as he begins to sway a bit, at first assuming 
  the distraction was induced by her, but then clueing in to the fact that 
  there's some other influence acting on her fiancee. Her eyes narrow a little 
  as she regards him, before following the trail of the IV from his arm 
  upwards. "Oh, shards," she mumbles, disappointment fighting resignation on 
  her features. "The medics always have to have last word."

Consternation crinkles Tance's features, and he shakes his head vigorously, 
  trying to clear it. "Nnnooo," he growls throatily in protest, lifting up his 
  right hand to rub the back of it across his eyes. It's his right arm that 
  has the IV in it, though, and once more, he registers the slight restriction 
  on his movement. The right hand drops and the left slips off Kesya as he 
  tries to reach for the IV where it's been secured into his bicep, held in 
  there by a clever little locking device preventing it from just being 
  casually yanked out by an irate Singer. "Dammit... karkin' medics... I'm 
  okay..."

Kesya reaches frail fingers to fend off Tance's potentially harmful attentions 
  to himself, one hand cupping over the IV where it inserts into his arm. "No, 
  wait! Tance, they must've had this here for a reason... but I'd rather wait 
  a day or two than have you here even longer because we ripped that -thing- 
  out of your arm." As disgusted as she looks with it, she is making some 
  sense.

The older Singer grimaces, pawing at the slim circlet locked about his upper 
  arm and trying to turn his limb round to reach the release mechanism. 
  Kesya's fingers stop him, though, before he can quite succeed -- and he 
  lifts a now uncertain, increasingly vague gaze to her. "I don't want to be 
  loopy," he complains plaintively. "Wanna go. Tour, like you said..."

Kesya presses her lips, obviously not liking what she's saying even as she 
  says it. "I want to go too. But I know how this stuff works just about as 
  much as you do... which is to say, zilch. What if this is important to your 
  getting well?" She shrugs a shoulder, looking about as helpless as she feels.

"I'm okay," Tance insists with as much fierceness as he can muster -- which, 
  at the moment, means those two words come out far more as a sleepy-sounding 
  mumble than the insistent bark he intends. As the room grows a little wavy 
  on the edges of his perception and his thoughts slow down, he unthinkingly 
  drops an arm down to curl around his wrapped torso. "Just a little sore, 
  'sall. Little itchy... 'mokay...." His head starts to droop forward, then.

Kesya stands slowly on legs that answer her commands much the way stilts would 
  -- stiffly and awkwardly. Her arms hold the fluid grace she once had though, 
  and she draws up the thin blanket to drape over her beloved, tucking it 
  under that chin that's now drooped upon Tance's chest. "Sleep, dearheart," 
  she murmurs, barely loud enough for your adapted ears to catch. "The tour 
  can wait."

Between the way his senses are blurring around the edges and the soft motions 
  and murmurs of the green-skinned young woman before him, the idea of at 
  least laying back down seems enticing. Tance fumbles backwards, trying to 
  support himself, but soon he's sinking back down into a horizontal position. 
  "Not long," he says dreamingly, the gravelly baritone softening, growing a 
  little warmer. "Don't let me sleep too long, Jade... just a little nap?"

"Just a nap," Kesya soothes reassuringly, patting the blanket into place. 
  Thank the Gods she's strong enough now to stand on her own, or she'd be 
  having a close aquaintance with the floor right about now. Her eyes examine 
  the IV, and she finds herself wondering just how long of a nap the thing is 
  set for. "I'll wake you later," she decides.

"Later," Tance breathes out absently, eyes drifting shut. The lines of his 
  features smooth out, his expression turning tranquil... and in moments, he 
  is asleep.

[End log.]