Dream's Can Haunt Too

Posted on Thu Dec 12th, 2024 @ 5:27pm by Major Samantha Snyder & Lieutenant Acacia Thomas

1,167 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Let That Be Your Last
Location: Bedroom, Quarters.
Timeline: First Night At Home Post Surgery

Sam stirred from what felt like a prolonged nightmare, the flashes of battle, the sounds of weapons fire to be replaced by a collapsing house of grinding house materials and metal. It seemed like she could almost taste the dust again but that was broken by other sounds, they seemed out of place, distant, quiet almost. Gradually these sounds permeated these sensations and drew her to the moment as her eyes slowly opened. Her ears took in more as they grew more alert to her surroundings, there were dull aches and pains, the kinds of pains that were not born of surface wounds but those that emanated from within. That was when she realized she was on the ship, the smell devoid of anything, Sickbay. Everyone knew the smell of Sickbay because it lacked one, it was clean but even that lacked any measurable scent to it.

Blurred vision slowly gave to focus as she stirred to waking.

A tiny chime rang with her stirring, and the bed lit up a pale pulsing blue underneath so that the doctor would know what patient it was that required attention. She had an alarm on her since the sedation was lightened, allowing her to wake naturally as possible.

Acacia spoke softly to the blonde marine "Welcome back Sam."

Welcome, last time Sam could remember she was expecting to die under the rubble of a collapsed house. A squinted face was the only reply as the light invaded her otherwise peaceful moment. Sam grumbled, softly, in protest as she roused to a moment that required her attention.

"Computer lights to half". She instructed and the lights dimmed obediently, though the blue glow still pulsed. "Try and open your eyes?"

Sam slowly opened her eyes, the familiar view of Sickbay coming into focus, she knew it was Sickbay, where else would she be after what happened?

Acacia came into view, a friendly face at least. "How long have I been out?" Sam asked, all sense of the passage of time gone to her.

"For four, nearly five days." She answered, wetting Sam's lips with a swab of water. Anesthesia made you feel dry, and the swab would help clear the cobwebs from her mouth.

Sam knew it would be a while, injuries like those were not quick fixes. There was a faint smile on her face but it wasn't from happiness, but from the rapid realization that it had been a while, time had gone by and yet she knew nothing about what happened after. The aches were a reminder, one she would heed when it came to even the slightest move. "Did we at least secure the colony?" Hoping that the effort was rewarding in results.

"I haven't seen Jack to know for sure. I think at least your mission is going as well as it can be, as I've had relatively few Marine casualties. Most of these are our people from up here.". She gestured with one hand at the carnage all around every bed full.

"Oh." Few that were here perhaps, or perhaps many were still waiting for transport or transit back to the ship. There was no way for Sam to know though and presently she was in no position or mood to think about it right now given her own situation.

"I haven't heard that it went catastrophically badly either. There's a few dead, but most of the injuries were minor." She shrugged a little. "How do you feel, physically? You were in surgery a long time."

"Feels like I've taken on half the marines in 1 on 1's back to back." While on the outside she may have looked ok, inside she ached, hurt and so much more. Moving hurt so she kept that to a minimum. "So how much damage did I get myself into?"

"Quite a substantial amount. "Acacia settled into a seat beside her and offered a tired smile. "The major things are on the mend. You broke 6 ribs, both legs and your pelvis. There was a substantial amount of bleeding" .

The voice that reached her ears seemed to fade away, becoming indistinct and mumbled. It felt as if her deepest fears had taken shape, whispering that her luck had run dry, her career was finished, and Sam was shattered. She attempted to sit up in bed, but the lingering pain in her muscles held her back, forcing her to stop mid-motion. Clenching her teeth and grimacing, she found herself sinking back into the mattress.

Though it had been a dream, it felt hauntingly real to Sam, leaving a heavy weight of anguish on her chest. Her breath came in labored gasps, as if she had just completed an intense workout or climbed a steep incline. Every part of her ached, and no amount of medication seemed to ease the discomfort. Yet pain was a familiar companion for Sam; they shared a unique bond where she understood the risks she took and the consequences that followed when she miscalculated.

When Sam finally succeeded in opening her eyes, she made an effort to calm herself. The medication she had received was potent, providing a comforting haze that was useful in situations like this, but it also left her struggling to recall details or stay oriented. She found herself in bed, a fact she couldn't quite remember, dressed in a singlet top and shorts that she also had no recollection of putting on. Her gaze drifted to the wardrobe door, where her uniform hung. Although it had been cleaned of blood, it still bore the scars of her injuries, a stark reminder of the pain she felt etched into her own body.

A glass of water rested quietly on the small bedside table, accompanied by a plate. On that plate lay a sandwich, its age uncertain, but it was clear it had been there for some time, given her current situation. With a slow, deliberate motion, she reached out to touch it, noting the softness of the bread, tinged with a slight staleness along the cut edge—definitely a few hours old. Yet, food was essential, and even if it was past its prime, it was still better than nothing. Gradually, Sam began to eat, unconcerned about the crumbs that would scatter across the bed or cling to her clothes. The niceties of dining etiquette were far from her thoughts; all that mattered was satisfying her hunger.

Sam found herself pondering Bianca's absence, questioning when she would return and where she might be. She couldn't shake the thought of whether Bianca had played any role in her surgeries. It was clear that Bianca was going through a tough time, but without her present, Sam felt unable to seek answers. Glancing over to Bianca's side of the bed, she noticed the pillow was missing. With the limited energy she had, Sam speculated that Bianca might be resting on the sofa, trying to avoid getting too close and risking any discomfort to Sam's healing injuries.

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