Chapter Text
Orrum didn’t know whether being on medical leave was actually doing him any good - maybe there was reason to believe the pros and cons evened each other out. He didn’t set an alarm but he awoke around fifteen minutes after it usually went off anyway, his skin prickling with uncertainty knowing that today would be different again. Sitting up in bed the Junior Lieutenant simply stared forward for a moment, his mind catching up to his body and running down a list of things to do - well, he had to get out of bed for one, but that in and of itself still felt bothersome after resting in sickbay for so many days straight. Pulling back the gray comforter Orrum shifted himself towards the edge of the bed, his legs following as he pushed against the mattress. Socked feet hit the burgundy floor, his bed being relatively low to the ground compared to other junior officers quarters. Orrum was always thankful for the accommodations Starfleet was willing to give him after his injuries on duty even if he was just an Ensign when it happened, his mind easily drifting towards how he lucked out as he positioned his hips right on the edge of the bed, his eyes locked on a wheelchair positioned for him to get into. With swift and well practiced movements, Orrum grabbed hold of one of the armrests and hoisted himself over and into the seat, plopping onto the cushion before readjusting his legs. Even without his assistive braces he retained some range of movement, although it was severely limited. Honestly he was more shocked that his legs retained as much feeling as they did - the wonders of modern medicine helped a lot, he supposed.
Removing the brake Orrum absentmindedly rolled over to the replicator. Whenever he was injured badly on duty it always seemed to make him fixate on how different recovery looked for him with a good spoonful of “internalized ableism” as the Counsellor put it. Deanna had already helped a lot with his unfair guilt about it all, but there was only so much she could do in the little time they’d spent in counseling sessions so far - for once he was glad he was raised by human parents and never really learned how to decipher other people’s thoughts. Orrum knew damn well that he’d be far too successful at hiding things from Counsellor Troi if he knew what she was looking for. Parking by the replicator screen Orrum took to scrolling through breakfast options, partially elsewhere while his eyes scanned selections both savory and sweet. He just wanted to get back to work, he wanted to feel useful, but Captain Picard insisted that Dr. Crusher was correct in insisting he take a few days outside of the sickbay to fully recuperate, especially because of how the ion front had already negatively affected his implants. The Captain claimed that he didn’t want Orrum collapsing on the bridge and hitting his head on something - Picard was smiling but Orrum could feel the slight frustration radiating off of his Captain. He knew Captain Picard was only partially joking and, quite frankly, was just as frustrated with him as to how stubborn he was regarding medical leave as Dr. Crusher was. He was never one to argue too heavily with senior officers so thankfully his stubbornness ended there with a simple “Aye, sir”.
He didn’t have much time to ruminate on medical complications before his eyes set on what he usually got - two waffles with syrup and butter. It was an easy choice once Orrum realized how comforting something familiar would be on an otherwise unusual day, quickly selecting it and requesting it be replicated before moving onto getting a cup of coffee with creamer. He always found deep comfort in routine, even if his job was otherwise constantly changing. It’s what kept him sane if he was being honest, the familiarity of following specific steps in a sequence or getting the same food every time. His mom frequently worried about that early on, Orrum smiling to himself as he grabbed his materialized breakfast and carefully rolled towards a table in the living area. They were a family of worry warts it seemed, even if there was no blood relation. He could always feel the tension rolling off of his mom and dad whenever they came to visit as much as they tried to keep it under control. Other than some more ruminations on how different today would look and how many more days of medical leave he had, breakfast was a simple affair, Orrum burying himself in the pillowyness of waffles and melted butter. Some people hated how the replicator always made food exactly the same each time - Orrum loved it.
After breakfast Orrum put the dishes back on the tray and onto his lap, rolling back to the replicator to have them recycled before getting changed into his work uniform and assistive braces. Dr. Crusher insisted that he take it easy but he was cleared to walk, just so long as he made sure not to overdo it quite yet. Setting his dishes into the replicator and pressing ‘recycle’, Orrum moved towards his wardrobe. Sliding the door open, Orrum didn’t need to look far to find his yellow and black uniform shirt and black uniform pants, taking the shirt off the hanger and folding it onto his lap before grabbing his pants out of a drawer. They were intentionally looser than most uniform pants to leave enough room for his braces underneath, although they thankfully weren’t too bulky. He made sure to grab his shoes and foldable cane before closing the closet and finally heading to the bathroom to get changed, Orrum remembering that his braces were still in there from last night, although he usually kept them in a much more secure spot when he wasn’t so fatigued as much as he hated to admit it. Dr. Crusher was right, he probably did need these next few days off, he just hated the lack of tasks that came with it.
Reaching the bathroom Orrum parked by the toilet and began to undress, first taking his shirt off and tossing it to the side. It was an old punk band t-shirt from Tycho City on Luna, one that his dad passed down to him and had already seen plenty of wear and tear over the years, the band’s logo faded. He was quick to throw on his Starfleet uniform shirt, pulling it over his head and quickly pulling the ends of his frizzy blonde hair out from where it was shoved underneath. Next he moved onto removing his pants, Orrum locking his wheelchair’s brakes to make it more stable before getting to work. He leaned forward and pulled on the ends of his pajama pants past his feet and soon enough began to shimmy them past his hips and thighs until he was left in his boxers. The junior lieutenant tossed his gray pants to the side to join the band shirt on the floor, many implants now bore naked to the world. They were placed on both sides on his knees, ankles, and just below his hips, little ports for his braces to connect to. Not visible was another near the base of his spine. It was an experimental treatment back then and the long term effects were still being discovered, but he thankfully hadn’t had many adverse reactions in the five years he’s had them. Not many had the chance to see them but he often described them as looking a lot like Lieutenant La Forge’s neural implants, just on his legs instead of on his temples. His braces were resting on the closed toilet lid and were quickly snatched up, Orrum sliding them on but not connecting the implants to the braces quite yet, wanting to make sure it was secure first. It was mostly secured using a combination of velcro and belt buckles, a belt holding it securely on his waist and other smaller belts holding it tightly against his thighs while velcro kept it secure against his calves and feet. Metal and plastic ran along the outside of each leg to make it more stable, and while that did make it a bit stiffer at times he wasn’t complaining.
Once everything was secure Orrum finally connected the ports, feeling it click in place and a brief jolt of what he could only describe as painless electricity zapped through his leg, his muscles briefly twitching in response. It wasn’t very comfortable in the beginning, but at this point he had gotten used to the sensation. Once everything was connected Orrum tested it out while seated, lifting his leg with much more ease and wiggling his toes. After some rotating of his ankle and testing the same thing on the other leg, Orrum put pressure on it against the floor. Using the nearby sink counter for support, Orrum lifted himself out of his chair and into a cautious standing position, remaining there for a few moments just to feel it out. Usually they needed a moment to fully calibrate so he wasn’t alarmed when he needed to sit back down to put his pants on, his legs still feeling a bit heavy and cumbersome, although it was getting better the more he moved. Pulling on a pair of black pants over his braces Orrum put his shoes on while he was seated. By the time he was unfolding his walking cane his legs already felt much more controlled (for lack of a better word), the Lieutenant rising to his feet for good this time just when he heard his comm badge activate in the next room, although he couldn’t hear exactly what was said. Deciding to take care of his dirty clothes and attach his pips after, Orrum speed walked back into his bedroom, not wanting to leave whoever was trying to contact him waiting too long.
Grabbing his comm badge from his nightstand Orrum pressed it to accept the communication request, hoping it wasn’t anything too serious. “Keigu here, sorry for the wait.” He responded, hoping he’d recognize the voice of whoever was trying to contact him while he attached the badge to the breast of his shirt. “No worries, you were probably asleep since you’re still on sick leave.” Dr. Crusher said on the other end, her voice light with reassurances before she continued - Orrum held his tongue, resisting the urge to correct her assumption. “I just wanted to ask if you could come down to sickbay sometime today, I want to make sure your implants are still functioning properly. If all goes well I might allow you to come back to work early.” She continued, adding that last part almost like how a parent bribes a kid with candy for good behavior. Even through the comm badge he could feel some residual frustration rolling off of the doctor, no doubt from how he initially fought her and the Captain’s decision. However, there was also concern that warranted him to approach it more casually - at least for now. “I can come by today, it’s not like I have anything else going on. Is there a specific time you’d want me to swing by?” Orrum asked, moving back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. “I have an open appointment slot at 1300 hours, does that work?” Dr. Crusher swiftly responds, Orrum standing in front of the bathroom mirror and grabbing his two pips to attach to his collar. “Sounds good to me, Doctor.” was all the response she got, Orrum’s eyes focused solely on attaching his one solid and one hollow pip while he spoke. “Great! I’ll see you down here then, Lieutenant. Remember not to overdo it, okay? Doctors orders.” Crusher exclaimed, adding a little reminder near the end which was understandable given his past behavior. “Yes sir, understood. Is there anything else you need from me right now?” Orrum responded more flatly this time, moving on to brushing his hair, his cane leaned against the bathroom sink counter. “Nope, that’s all I was contacting you about. If you have any concerns don’t hesitate to ask or come by early, though.” She explained, the sound of a tricorder opening coming across the badge. Orrum nodded to himself as he responded for the last time, a comb brushing through dirty blonde hair in the meantime and only stopping briefly to tap his badge to close the channel, “Thank you, Dr. Crusher. Lt. Keigu out.” With nothing else to distract him Orrum briefly took to analyzing his appearance in the mirror while he brushed his hair, realizing that he should probably shave soon. Not today though, maybe tomorrow.
