Work Text:
Philippa Georgiou loathes being sick and resents her body for the lack of cooperation.
The first symptoms are innocuous, and Philippa is more mortified than concerned. After all, their time together as a couple is so infrequently those early days. She insists that Michael put her career first and fully explore her potential in Starfleet. Besides, it is far from unusual to have officers in long distance relationships - apart for months if not years at a time. The difference with Michael is that the separation feels like a genuine sacrifice instead of an inescapable reality.
Philippa feels lonely without Michael reading in the corner or offering suggestions to improve her latest manuscript. The couple can go for hours without speaking, but the former protégée fills the spaces like no one else in Philippa's life.
The loneliness is particularly sharp when she wakes up needing to vomit and shaking from violet chills. The sheets are damp and stuck to her clammy skin, her long braid feels bulky and impractical as she tries to stay balanced, there is a certain indignity in crawling to the bathroom; however it seems like the safest option. Strangely, Philippa longs for her mother to soothe the hurt away, to wipe away the sick and sweat.
It's a fanciful and illogical wish,but Philippa envies the Vulcans their telepathy and the ability to bond with loved ones over light years.
After a week,Gregory insists that she see a doctor after she can barely hold down his famous noodle soup, made from scratch.
"Just let it run its course."
Philippa struggles not to glare at the Trill doctor she may be feeling oversensitive, but she senses judgement in that tone, the weakness of human biology. It is a relief to rule ofout the major concerns, the diseases and disorders that haunt the family genetics. He gives her medication to take and firm instructions to rest.
**
Philippa's sickness is a mystery to her.
Starfleet Medical takes no small amount of pride in preparing the immune systems of their officers to combat a spectrum of alien illnesses, viruses, and bacteria. Such precautions are vital in this age of expansion and First Contact with non-humanoid races. Furthermore, the newly retired captain takes extra measures to maintain her health, scheduling more than the yearly physicals and maintaining a strict healthy diet, even if it is her mission in life to expand Michael's palate for human cuisine.
Katrina and the others gently tease her about keeping up with a younger lover, but her self-control is legendary since the earliest academy days. However, they aren't entirely wrong either; walking, running and sparring with Michael are among Philippa’s favourite activities. The younger woman has a uniquely Vulcan view of aging and age differences, but Philippa admits to a certain amount of mortal, human vanity.
Getting sick the week before Michael's shore leave is unacceptable,and she doses herself with broad spectrum medication and copious amounts of herbal tea to ease the chill in her bones and the ache in every cell. It's minor mercy that her migraines are no worse than usual.
Philippa knows Michael will want to know, but she doesn't want the younger woman breaking the law to reach her any faster, Michael wouldn't hesitate to steal a ship if the need was high enough. While that would be romantic, she is too valuable to Philippa and the war effort to jeopardise her position in Starfleet.
***
"I've missed you."
Michael Burnham is getting better at offering casual displays of affection; especially now they are no longer subject to the rigours of Starfleet command structure. The gaze she gives Philippa is far from impassive as they standard in the doorway, Michael looking refreshed in immaculate travel robes and a light tunic.
"I missed you too, so much."
Philippa feels like the hour she spent getting ready is wasted in the presence of such youthful beauty. If her raspy voice doesn't give her away, something else will to this observant woman. Her eldest niece may be an expert with makeup and costume, but one can only do so much to conceal illness and a prolonged lack of sleep; butstill, she wants to make an effort.
"What's wrong, how long have you been unwell? Why didn't you call me?"
Michael reaches out and cups her check, long fingers tracing her cheekbones, the touch is more clinical than romantic, and Philippa suspects she is using her fingers as just another avenue for gathering information.
"I'm fine,Michael - it’s just a persistent cold, please don't worry."
Predictably, the brushoff doesn't do anything to alleviate Michael's concern, and Philippa finds herself cradled in a protective embrace as they stroll back into the lounge that is thankfully clear of old blankets, tissues and junk food. For all her bravo, Philippa leans against Michael's muscular frame, trying not to think about how fragile she seems in old clothes,despite the makeup.
"Greta will be so disappointed that all her hard work was for nothing," Philippa quips weakly as Michael starts fussing.
"Your niece is a consummate professional, and I will dutifully admire her handwork once you are feeling better, which is a far more pressing concern," Michael offers as she heads to the kitchen with long, purposeful strides.
***
" You don't need to play nursemaid for your entire leave, Michael, I'll be fine in a week or so."
Even as she says it, Philippa can feel the lie in every aching joint and cough. Whatever this sickness may be, her enhanced immune system is struggling to win the war. The second round of medication does little more than extinguish what remains of her appetite.
Michael continues brushing Philippa's hair - using an antique brush that belonged to her grandmother. Her girlfriend approaches the task with focus, and the long even strokes are soothing almost meditative, especially when Michael begins to sing softly. Philippa feels almost human after the long bath in a variety of oils and expensive shampoo. The efforts will go to waste, but Michael is willing to repeat the ritual every day.
"It was you who taught me the value of taking leave as I see fit, Captain" Michael replies with a trace of gentle mockery. "I am exercising your instructions to the letter."
"Don't be obtuse. I wanted you to visit the Zoological Society for those lectures or witness that meteor shower in person - you have been talking about light pollution and using the family telescope for for months."
"There will be other meteorshowers and lectures, Philippa."
***
"You are a science snob darling; humanity existed with branches of advanced medicine for millennia before Vulcans made contact," Philippa teases, trying to coax a smile from the younger woman.
Michael doesn't dignify the teasing with a response as she scrolls through files of the nearest Vulcan medical facilities. Philippa finally relents to seeing another doctor,as hersymptoms aren't improving even under Michael’s diligent, andsometimes overbearing care. She no longer wakes alone at night and has a constant supply of soup and juice.
It's entirely possible that Michael hasn't slept in days and is surviving entirely on meditation and extraordinary natural stamina. A daily routine, much less all of Philippa's romantic plans are a distant memory in the face of night sweats and sickness.
"You are conflating the two, Philippa - selecting one is not an indictment of the other. There several facilities here that specialise in studying the possible effects of Federation exploration on the immune system." Michael seems willing to begin a mini lecture on the topic.
"NoJust call Charlie - he has been our family doctor for decades. My pride can just about take him seeing me in this state - it’s just a stubborn variation, darling - no need to convene a meeting of the Vulcan Medical Council just because it's not responding to your excellent care."
At this, Michael's eyes light up as if struck by an idea. "Sarek's aunt is a member of the subcommittee for...:
"No, Michael,” Philippa interjects firmly. “Please limit your grand gestures to metaphors and expert tea blends. A regular family doctor will confirm a conventional diagnosis."
****
"Her immune system isn't happy, but you'll be on the mend soon Pip, with a little help."
Michael wills herself not to react to the casual observation. Dr. Charles Lockhart is everything Philippa promises and is doing an admirable job of lifting her lover's spirts. A quick scan of his medical credentials is reassuring. The man is well-qualified in the field of general practice, as well as being an old friend of the Georgiou family. The tendency of human physicians to make small talk is irritating for someone more familiar with Vulcan Healers and their precise terminology.
It is not entirely fair to judge him so harshly, as his presence has lightened Philippa's mood considerably and his examination areis gentle and efficient. His assistant hovers in the background making notes. Michael sits beside Philippa without an assigned role.
"Ah, I haven't seen that Vulcan look of serene disapproval in 10 years. You aren't the first to doubt my methods, Ms. Burnham." Charles gives Michael a challenging look. " When Philippa is comfortable, we can discuss antibodies and inflammation to your heart's content. Bedside manner has its place. Speaking of which, when is the last time you slept?"
"I am perfectly healthy, Dr. Lockhart."
"A truth without addressing the question at hand. Ever heard of the phrase “Physician, heal thyself?"
"My grounding in earth literature is quite extensive, including the biblical verse you are referencing."
"Quit teasing her, Charlie,” Philippa instructs with a mock glare. “Michael is still learning the subtler points of human banter and humour. Her instruction is one of my proudest achievements."
***
"I'm over the worst of it - you shouldn't be spending so much time here. The last thing you need is to pick this bug before a long deployment."
"Your statement is counterintuitive,” Michael replies drily as she looks up from the datapad she is trying to fix. “The very fact you are recovering means that I have already been exposed to the bacteria in any potentially contagious phase.
Michael Burnham hates waste and inefficiency almost as much as her foster homeworld. Philippa's home has fairly generic technology and computer systems, the type that is default in any house in an affluent neighbourhood. In truth, it took retirement and the developing relationship between them for former Captain Georgiou to consider a home as more than functional space.
The fact Philippa has interest in or problems with a standard operating system is beside the point. Michael spends hours researching ways to increase her comfort with everything from aheadache-sensitive lighting to an interactive writing programme that edits and reconfigures manuscripts. At first, thePhilippa had found the intrusion ismildly irritating and offputting, but she relents when it gives the younger woman such a sense of satisfaction.
"Besides,Vulcan immune technology rarely fails in the same way that human efforts do - I am confident that my antibodies will prevail."
"Your prejudices are showing again, darling." Philippa's laugh turns into a hacking cough.
***
"Just because you are sick,does not mean you need to take it out on me."
Philippa knows she deserves the mild criticism and then some. Michael is far from the first person to remark on how cranky she is as a patient in the rare times her preventative measures prove ineffective. Her brothers spent their childhood teasing her about throwing temper tantrums at the slightest injury or illness. It wasn't the affliction itself ,but the frustrating need to slow down or stay inside while they played.
As an adult and senior officer, even Saru knew to limit his complaints until the captain was back at full strength. Years of being at the forefront of Starfleet's diplomatic efforts maintaining relatively good health means that the former captainPhilippa struggles to convalesce with any grace or dignity, Philippa isn't accustomed to somebody knowing her intimately enough to see her irritability and anger; it has been several decades since anyone cared enough to stay overnight and watch a fever.
Convalescence is what she needs; various medical professions to seem to concur on the matter. A rare strain of a common bacteria defeats her immune system’s best intentions. The explanations about multiple exposures, warp drive bio reconfiguration and increased mass migration on account of border skirmishes do not make much sense. Of course, Michael hangs on every word and bombards successive professionals with questions and opinions. Her girlfriend knows more about her pulmonary respiratory function than anyone else alive, far more than oris healthy for a relatively new relationship, which is probably contributing toherPhilippa’s foul mood.
"I'm sorry Michael - you are right of course. I was impatient by the second day, much less thisthese endless weeks of feeling sick and weak."
Philippa tries to sound conciliatory rather than snappish.
"You are making considerable progress - we will walk in the gardens tomorrow and start basic Thai Chi to improve balance and stamina. My request for extended leave came through this morning."
"Michael..."
Michael doesn't look up from the harp she is tuning the soft melody is soothing. Arguing Its become an evening ritual for her to practice the instrument and write a few compositions. Philippa disagrees with her lover's assessment that she displayspossesses limited talented,and her graceful fingers on the strings are almost hypnotising. Indeed, the half-finished melodies feel more soothing than her intensive classical collection.