I'm a Goner (Penn/Mike)

[m]

It took everything Mike had to force himself into the Medical Bay. But he had to do it. After all it was best to look into this before it could possibly get any worse. After all there were so many bad things that could happen. Fever, strep throat, pneumonia, death, all sicknesses that started with a sore throat.

Mike was careful to keep away from germs and keep himself healthy. He ate right and exercised every day on the treadmill. He did everything he could to avoid being sick. And now he’d woken up with a sore throat. It took everything inside him to keep from panicking.

As his shoes thudded on the floor on the way to Med Bay he knew he looked a little tenser than normal. He was getting strange looks left and right as he passed other crewmembers. He didn’t pause as he acknowledged them in the hallway but kept on walking.

“Gwyther! Dr. Gwyther!” He called out as he rounded the corner into the sick bay. “Gwyther! I need you!” There was real panic in his voice. Holding his breath he soared into the Doctors office and shut the door after him, as if moving quickly and getting through the room would keep the germs away…

[somerandomhippie1]

Penn had been sitting in his office, kicking his football about, when a voice came in yelling bloody murder. He started, grabbing his ball before it could bounce around and knock something over. Who was that? It sounded like the captain... Had someone been shot or something? He got up, furrowing his brow, and went over to the door.

He had to dodge back quickly, as the captain threw the door open and dashed inside, closing the door behind him. He knew the captain was a bit of a neat freak... Ah, right. He had read over his file. Poor lad. He hadn't taken any psychology in school, but he could only imagine what it must be like for him.

"Here, sit down," he said, guiding the captain over to his chair. He sat him down gently, like he used to do with his sister when she was little. "What seems to be the problem?" Seeing how strict the man was with himself, he had a feeling it wouldn't be too bad.

[m]

Hopping up onto the edge of the desk the captain looked like he was in pain. He opened his mouth and tried to talk, then realized that wouldn't work so he closed it and spoke.

"I think I have strap throat, or tonsillitis." He said quickly. He was very serious. Mike couldn't remember the last time his throat hurt like this.

Sure he fell asleep watching late night entertainment and lay on his stomach, and sure he might have been breathing through his mouth all night. His ex-wife said he tended to snore when he lay on his stomach. But surely that didn't account for the sore throat.

"Gwyther, I want the shots or the pill or whatever it takes. Antibiotics, the works. Surgery if you must but this needs to be nipped in the butt ASAP."

[somerandomhippie1]

Penn kept his face level as the Captain tried to speak. Grabbing a wooden stick, he walked back to the desk, washing up his hands on the way. This wasn't exactly the time to skimp on sanitary procedures. "Say 'aah'," he said automatically, holding down the Captain's tongue with the stick. Looked a little swollen. Looks like he'd had his tonsils removed, too, so that ruled out tonsillitis. Not that Penn thought it was that bad.

"I don't think it's that bad," Penn told him soothingly. "First of all, you don't have any tonsils, which rules out tonsillitis for the time being." He placed a palm on the man's forehead. It wasn't all that warm, though there was a hint of something. "Any other symptoms?" he asked briskly. "Stuffy nose, aching muscles, that lot?"

[m]

Mike frowned when Penn approached him with the wooden stick and told him to say aww. Was that thing sanitized? He opened his mouth but before he could say anything the Doctor had the thing in his mouth and was looking in.

Opening his jaw wide, Mike's eyes rolled, wondering how long he'd take before the doctor pulled back and Mike closed his mouth.

He thought for a moment, checking his whole body over and waiting to see what it reported back to him. His sore throat wasn't feeling quite as sore as it once had, and everything else seemed to be in order.

"NnnnooooO?" He had to admit with a frown. Once again he was freaking out over nothing... possibly. He'd take the Doctors word for it. He WAS a professional and all...

He just hoped his little bit of a panic attack wouldn't spread through the crew. He did have an image he needed to keep up.

Of course a lot of the people he worked with on a day to day biases already knew Mike's caution with bacteria.

[somerandomhippie1]

The captain looked a little unsure as he decided that no, there didn't seem to be anything else wrong with him. He clapped the man on the shoulder. "Might just be the humidity, maybe the engineers are fixing the air filters. But still, it was good to come up and check." He neatly tossed the stick in the garbage, smiling as it hit the rubbish bin square on. He washed up a little, for good measure, then went and grabbed a pad of paper.

He talked to the Captain as he scribbled. "Of course, if you're feeling any worse, feel free to come back up. Best option, though, is a nice, good, cuppa tea. Antioxidants beyond human reckoning, warm and relaxing, plus the smell is quite relaxing. Stay away from the breakfast stuff unless you take your coffee black, the stuff is bitter." He ripped off the paper, which simply had an outline of what he'd checked out, and folded it neatly, tossing it to the captain. "Hope you're feeling good soon, Pop," he said respectfully, nodding. Pop was the King's nickname back in Wales, whereas they called the Queen Mum. It was just a thing they did. "Unless, of course, you'd like to stick around. Game of football, if that's legal." He must have been really bored to offer that up. Then again, it was a Friday morning...

[m]

Mike folded his arms and sat back. So he wasn't coming down with something. That was good. He looked around the office with interest. This was a first since he normally avoided the Med Bay. Hearing the doctor mention football he wondered how they'd pull it off in the small area, but then remembered football meant two completely different games.

"Football hm? It's been awhile but I could stretch my legs. Do you usually play it in such a small place?

[somerandomhippie1]

Penn chuckled, flopping back down on his office chair. "Not usually, no," he admitted. "It tends to be extremely quiet up here during our peaceful days, though-- not that I'm complaining. Means that everyone's OK, and I get to practice my tight footwork." He demonstrated, flipping up his soccer ball neatly and bouncing it off various parts of his body. "They don't let me play big-league anymore, but I can still play a little when I'm feeling OK." He plopped the ball back on the ground. "You play any?"

[m]

Mike leaned back against one of the Doctors counters and folded his arms. He watched in interest as the Doctor demonstraited his skill with the soccer ball. "That's really good. Far better than anything I could do. I played football in high school but it was the american kind. I was on the O-Line." He knew some would think he'd be quarterback or running back or something like that, but truth be told Mike was only on the team for one semester before he decided it just wasn't for him. But he hadn't been bad really.

[somerandomhippie1]

Penn chuckled as the Captain confessed that it was the wrong kind of football. "Ah, rugby-style football," he realized. "No, in that case, I couldn't do a thing. I'm a little too scrawny." He chuckled to himself, then sent his ball to the inside corner of his desk, lodging itself there. "So, I'll ask, what is O-line in your New World football?" He didn't really follow that kind of stuff-- he watched his football, seeing as he played it, and the local Wales teams of whatever there was, but he had never taken a interest in rugby. Too much hitting. He wasn't ever really a heavy, muscle-y guy-- genetics and such. "Is that offense, or am I guessing wrong?"

[m]

Mike smiled at that. "Yes I was an offensive lineman. We were supposed to keep the other team off our Quarterback so he could make a goal. Mostly it was a lot of pushing and blocking. I wasn't bad at it but it wasn't the greatest. I didn't much care for the other players either."

He thought for a second, "Maybe you could put together a team and we could play? There's a lot of down time I know while traveling. It could keep up the crew members spirits." He knew things had been kind of down since their failed mission. It was gnawing constantly at his subconscious, but Mike knew that dwelling on the matter would only make things worse.

Rubbing his hands together, Mike subconsciously reached into his pocket and took out one of his sterilizing wipes and started to clean his hands. He did it every so often while he was either nervous or thinking. Sometimes he did it so much is knuckles bleed. They were pretty raw at the moment in fact.

[somerandomhippie1]

Penn nodded. "I think I get it," he said slowly. "Well, the idea, at least. It makes sense." He wasn't much of a rugby watcher-- he only bothered to when someone else turned it on-- but he got the basic idea. Simple, yet effective. "Yeah, those lads can be a little temperamental sometimes. Not the kindest people."

Penn thought for a moment, then started nodding. "That's a good idea," he smiled. "With the superior officers alone, we could make up two teams and switch them up every once and a while. Add in everyone else, we could get a whole league going, with round robins and everything. That's a brilliant idea." He grinned. The Captain may not have liked germs, but he knew how to keep the show running. He was obviously someone they needed on a mission like this.

As the Captain rubbed his hands automatically, Penn grabbed a large piece of paper and scribbled energetically. "Sign-up sheet," he grinned. He popped up. "I think this needs to be posted on the notice board. Coming?" He held the door open. "Or would you prefer to stay?"