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It was, decidedly, not Grace’s day.
He felt as though he had completed at least 15 laps on Stratt’s Vat from all the people who needed a word with him. What little free time he had between his brief meetings were filled by mind-numbing paperwork that never seemed to shrink in number. And, to top it all off, he had an annoyingly persistent stomach ache that had plagued him since he woke up.
So, with about 20 minutes before he was expected to meet with the primary crew, Grace leaned as far into the makeshift desk as his aching stomach allowed. One arm rested on the table to hold his head while the other held his stomach. He was really regretting not snatching some ibuprofen from the Sick Bay when he had the chance.
Grace wasn’t exactly a stranger to stomach issues. His grad life was full of them and stress-induced anxiety. A heavy blanket of stress had been smothering him for months as he continued his work on the project; he figured it, the long days, and lack of basic self-care was finally coming to a head. Still, did it really have to figuratively punch him in the gut like it was now?
He checked his wristwatch and groaned as the time ticked closer to his meeting. With the rub of his face, Grace gingerly stood up and gathered what papers he needed from his cluttered desk. At that point, he just wanted to sneak some pain meds, collapse in his bunk, and sleep off the pain and nausea. But, unfortunately for him, saving the world waited for no one, including someone with some stress-induced stomach pain.
The walk to the small, makeshift conference room was even more tedious to navigate than typical. By the time Grace made it to the room, his stomach was throbbing. The walk did little to help his nausea, either. However, he had little time to dwell on it, as DuBois was already seated at the small table. As always, he had his notes neatly arranged in front of him.
“Dr. Grace,” DuBois greeted with a nod. Grace nodded back and carefully took his seat at the table. He prepared his own notes as a chill ran up his spine. He pulled his cardigan closer to himself.
“You think it’s a bit cold on the carrier tonight?” Grace asked. DuBois looked up and shook his head.
“Not particularly, no,” the scientist responded. “It feels the same it’s been for the last few weeks.”
“Huh,” Grace said. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. The sweat coating his fingers caused something in his mind to halt. He quickly ran through his symptoms and wasn’t liking the results his mind was supplying.
Now he was sure it couldn’t be stress-induced. He didn’t remember ever getting a fever from it. It still felt low grade; maybe it was food poisoning? Logically, he knew it was unlikely, given that he ate roughly the same thing as everyone else. Maybe he just got super unlucky? Knowing his luck, he tried to hold onto the hope that it could’ve been just a bad case of food poisoning.
DuBois’s voice broke him out of his own attempt at spiraling. “Is everything alright, Dr. Grace?”
He looked up to the scientist, who was mid-shifting through his notes and looking back at him. Grace quickly promised himself to stop by the Sick Bay afterwards and tried to reassure the other.
“I’m okay, just tired,” Grace said. “It’s been a loooong few months.”
“Understandable,” DuBois said and let Grace be.
It wasn’t long before Yao joined the men. He offered his own quick greeting and sat down. Grace could feel his keen eyes on him, but the older man didn’t comment. Instead, he spent his energy on fighting his building nausea.
At last, Ilyukhina arrived and moved to the last available chair. Grace heard her scoff as she did so and looked up.
“You know you’re allowed to sleep every now and then, right?” She said while plopping down in her seat. “You look half dead.”
Yao shot the engineer a look while Grace rubbed his eyes under his glasses. He wouldn’t mention it, but her observation didn’t feel too far off. Instead, he pulled out his notes over the current updates relevant to the crew.
“Thank you, Ilyukhina,” Grace sighed. “I didn’t notice.”
“Anytime,” she said, leaning back in her seat.
A part of him wanted to find a way to joke back, but he just didn’t have the energy to. He wanted—needed—to get this meeting done as soon as he could so he could visit the Sick Bay.
“Well,” Grace drew out, “Since we’re all here, let’s get started.”
——
Unfortunately for Grace, the meeting was not as quick as he hoped. The updates he provided were intermingled with questions or requests for clarifications from the crew (and the occasional joke from Ilyukhina).
His nausea only continued to build up with the pain. It came to a point where simply shifting in his seat caused small shockwaves of pain to race through his abdomen. His theories on what was happening to him narrowed down further and further, and it brought more worry with it.
While Grace updated the crew on additional training the three would have to undergo, the pain and nausea hit a peak. It was enough to make him choke on his own words and for a hand to race to his stomach. Someone called his name—Yao, he thought—but his heartrate was nearly deafening in his ears.
Another strong and intense wave of nausea hit him, making him gag. Grace tried to mentally map out the nearest bathroom, but it was obvious he would never make it.
“Sorry-“ Grace choked out right before he lost what little was in his stomach to the floor beside him. Ilyukhina swore from somewhere across from him. He was sure he’d feel embarrassed over vomiting in front of the world’s heroes if he wasn’t overwhelmed with the sharp pain in his stomach.
Slim hands carefully grasped his shoulders. It was enough to anchor him and guide him to sit back in his chair. The movement sent more pangs through him and he groaned.
“Sorry,” Grace said again. He could feel the sweat on his face.
“Easy, Dr. Grace,” Yao said from beside him.
“Here,” Ilyukhina reached over the table to hand the ill man a bottle. Yao took it while DuBois dug out his radio.
Grace watched Yao quickly open the bottle and sniff its contents. Ilyukhina huffed, “Oh, please, it’s just water.”
“I’m just making sure,” Yao said and handed the bottle to Grace. “Slow sips.”
Ilyukhina crossed her arms but said nothing. Grace took a few sips, grimaced, and pushed the bottle on the table. What little he could force down was enough to induce his nausea again.
“You’re obviously not feeling well,” Yao said. A hand felt Grace’s neck and he resisted the urge to lean into the cool touch. “Fever and nausea. What else?”
Grace let out as careful as a sigh as he could and winced at the pain that such a small movement caused. He leaned further into his chair, arm over his lower abdomen.
“I think it’s my appendix,” Grace said.
Only a second or so passed before DuBois called for a medic through his radio. An arm snaked around Grace’s shoulders and Ilyukhina leaned one of her own arms on the table.
“You didn’t notice one of your organs trying to blow itself up?” She asked in a more subdued tone.
“I thought it was just stress,” Grace tried to explain.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Yao interjected. “Just try to sit tight. A medic should be here soon.”
Grace nodded and let his eyes slip closed. The pain spiked again and a whimper escaped him. Yao offered his free hand for the other to grip against the pain, who accepted it.
A few minutes later, a medic arrived. Grace opened his eyes to see the solider’s own meet him while Ilyukhina complained about the medic ‘taking his sweet time.’
Yao quickly relayed his symptoms and Grace’s guess on what was wrong while DuBois and Ilyukhina moved to the side and pulled the table back to give the medic some space in the small room. After taking a few vitals, the medic moved Grace’s arm away to gently feel different parts of his abdomen. When he reached his lower right side, the pain became white hot. He gripped Yao’s hand far harder than he meant to while biting back a scream as best as he could. The captain didn’t complain.
“It’s looking like appendicitis to me,” the medic announced. “He’ll come in for some imaging, but it’ll be to confirm it before we take him in for surgery.”
Grace swallowed against his dry throat. He didn’t bother asking how long he would be out for; he knew it’d be a couple weeks before he was back on the project. A couple weeks Earth didn’t have. Frustration tried to bubble up alongside the many other aches and emotions bombarding him.
The embarrassment he was finally starting to feel made him decline a stretcher, to which Yao offered to help him to the Sick Bay with the medic. So much for that. The other two crew members stood aside to let the men shuffle by, an arm slung over the medic’s and Yao’s shoulders to help Grace walk. Ilyukhina’s pursed lips and DuBois’s frown didn’t help his building frustration.
“I’m really sorry about this,” Grace said before they left. His voice was strained against the pain and he could feel more saliva coating his mouth. “I’ll try to get someone to fill in for me ASAP.”
“No need for that,” DuBois shot down the offer. “We’ll figure it out. You just worry about getting better.”
“Focus on more important stuff, like not dying,” Ilyukhina quickly added.
“Come on, let’s get you to the Sick Bay,” Yao said. Grace felt the captain briefly squeeze his wrist as they begun their journey down through the aircraft carrier. Despite the horrid pain, exhaustion, and nausea, the words and quick gesture seeded something warm in Grace’s chest that had nothing to do with fever.
“Oh, wait,” Grace tried to turn his head back and winced. “What about the mess?”
“Get him out of here, Yao,” Ilyukhina groaned. She waved the three men away.
——
It took a few tries for Grace to truly wake up. Each time, he felt a fraction less groggy than before. With each time his eyes opened came clearer memories of before he was put under. He remembered the agonizing trip to the Sick Bay and quietly regretting not taking the offer for a stretcher. A quick ultrasound confirmed he had a highly inflamed appendix and he was promptly prepared for its removal. The last thing he remembered was the cool flow of the anesthesia being administered before he just… blacked out.
“Are you awake now, Dr. Grace?” an extremely familiar voice asked. Something in his head told him he really should respond to it. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to get them to clear.
“Dr. Grace? Are you awake?” The voice asked again. It was tempting to just fall back under, but instead he followed his first instinct and turned his head to where he thought the voice was coming from.
To his left in the cramped, gray recovery room sat Stratt. Her ever-present tablet was nestled in her hands, but her steely eyes briefly flicked to him.
“Uh,” Grace tried to speak, to which he coughed against the dryness in his throat. The pain meds were probably still in his system, because the movement didn’t make him want to cry like before.
Stratt frowned but stood up and stepped to the bedside. “I take that as a ‘yes,’ then?” She asked.
“I think so,” Grace said. He didn’t feel like he was three seconds away from falling asleep, at least.
“Good,” Stratt said. “The sooner you’re back on your feet, the better.”
Grace winced. He quickly tried to formulate a plan in his still drugged and fevered mind. “I know this isn’t really a good time for this, but I should be discharged in a day at most. I can get back to my paperwork at the very least when I do.”
“No,” Stratt quickly responded. It made Grace stop any further offers he could potentially cook up. “You will be on bed rest with minimal activity beyond recovery-relevant exercise for two weeks.”
It was Grace’s turn to frown. “Not to bring up the obvious, but we don’t really have much time for bed rest at the moment.”
“I’m more than aware of that,” Stratt said. “But we also don’t have time for our lead Astrophage specialist nearly dying because he confused a medical emergency for exhaustion and stress.”
Ah.
“…the crew told you about that, huh?” Grace conceded.
“Of course they did,” Stratt said. She didn’t miss a beat as she continued. “I’ll get someone from your team to help you with paperwork or meetings. Anything of high confidentiality or importance will still go straight to you, but having a second pair of eyes and hands should ease some of the load.”
“Thanks, Stratt,” Grace sighed. Just the thought of having a helping hand took a huge weight off his shoulders.
She watched Grace for a few more moments, face unreadable, and nodded once. Then, in a single motion, she picked up her bag with her tablet and headed towards the door after ringing for a medic.
“I’m needed elsewhere,” she said. “I’ll see you back on the project in two weeks, Dr. Grace.”
And with that, Stratt was gone, leaving Grace to wait for a medic to arrive so he could finally deal with his desert-dry throat.
——
He wasn’t alone for long, as the primary crew soon came to visit the recovering man. Thankfully, he was more aware when the knock came and his new visitors entered. He offered a small wave to the trio.
“I assume you’re feeling better?” DuBois asked following their greetings. He kept himself parked closer to the door. Ilyukhina stood by the foot of the bed while Yao unknowingly took Stratt’s place beside the bed.
“Tell me about it,” Grace muttered. A hand subconsciously moved to his stomach. “Medic told me I should be out of here by the end of the day.”
Ilyukhina grinned. “I’ll cheers to your discharge tonight.”
Grace smiled. “Thanks for that. Have a shot for me, yeah?”
“Gladly.”
“How long you guys have?”
“About a half hour,” Yao responded. “We won’t stay that long; just wanted to make sure you were doing well after Stratt told us you were awake.”
“I don’t mind,” Grace said quicker than he would admit. Yao raised his brows, to which Grace clarified, “I don’t mind if you three stay. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to in here for a little while.”
Yao looked over to the other two, getting a thumbs up and shrug from Ilyukhina and DuBois, respectively. The latter added, “If it’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Grace responded. That warm feeling in his chest from the night before came back. “It’s fine.”