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It's 9am and Christina's still in bed… which is incredibly unusual for her, but she is not ready to face the day quite yet… and she's not sure she ever will be. Bobby walks into the room and her chest tightens.
"I don't feel good," she says before he can even attempt to remind her that it's almost time to leave for her appointment. She's got a death grip on the covers to prevent him from pulling them away from her.
"Tina…" he sighs, sitting on the edge of their bed. "I'm not lying. I think I'm gonna throw up."
"I think that's anxiety, sweetheart…" She knows he's right, but that doesn't make any of this easier. "I'll be with you the entire time. You're not alone, we're gonna face it together, okay?" She nods, refusing to let tears fall even as her throat constricts.
"Can you be ready by 9:30?" he asks her gently and she nods again, because she doesn't have a choice.
Bobby leaves her alone. He trusts her to get up on her own despite her conflicting emotions, and knows her well enough to know that she needs a few more minutes to herself.
Do what scares you. Her inspirational quote; the one they slap on stickers and t-shirts, and attribute to her even though it originally came from her mother. Yet here she is, hiding under the covers because she's afraid. She bitterly laughs to herself as she forces herself out of bed, staring at a stain on the edge of the nightstand as she tries to bite back the sob she feels rising in her throat.
When she comes home from this doctor's appointment, it is very likely that she won't be an astronaut anymore. And she has no idea what she's going to do with her life after that. This could bring an end to the greatest gift of her life, and that terrifies her more than any physical feat ever could.
—
The doctor spends ten minutes explaining the results of the EEG and functional MRI in a way that Christina doesn't understand, but she's too anxious to ask for clarification. At a certain point, she stops listening. She doesn't care about whatever the hell her brain is doing. She just wants to know if she can still do her job.
She's been almost completely disassociated for five minutes when she hears those four dreaded words. "—given that, as well as what you've observed over the past month and the context of the original episode, I can say with certainty that you do have epilepsy."
You do have epilepsy.
The world stops for a second. The doctor announces it so flippantly, almost as though that's good news. Almost as if those four words didn't just ruin her entire livelihood. He continues to talk about things Christina doesn't care about. "Do you have any questions?" he finally finishes.
"Can you fix it?" she asks immediately. "There are a lot of things we can do to try and minimize symptoms. Some people are even able to get rid of their seizures entirely with medication and lifestyle changes—"
That's not enough for NASA and she knows that.
—
She doesn't speak at all until they're in the car. "Tina… Talk to me, are you okay?" She nods instinctively, buckling her seatbelt. "Hey…" She finally looks him in the eye.
"You don't have to be okay right now. You have every right to be upset." Upset? That word feels so small. It's not nearly enough to encompass the overwhelming extent of her feelings right now. She feels like she just died; or at least, part of her did. But how could you possibly put that into words?
She doesn't say anything because she genuinely doesn't know where to begin. Bobby starts the car and she fixes her gaze back to the road in front of them as he pulls out of the parking garage. He doesn't say anything either.
In the past month, she's gotten to know the drive to and from this hospital— two lefts, a right at the roundabout; she can trace the journey with her eyes closed— but Bobby makes a turn that doesn't make sense to her. He's not taking her home, which scares her a little bit at first. She does not have the energy to interact with anyone or do anything right now. All she wants to do is curl up on the sofa and cuddle with Sadie until the world rights itself.
But if she opens her mouth to voice any of those concerns, she's going to cry and she'd really like to avoid doing that because she knows that once the tears start, she won't be able to stop herself from breaking down completely. So instead, she just watches intently as he drives and soon, it becomes clear that he never intended to make her face anyone.
He pulls into the Panera drive through and orders her a bread bowl with mac and cheese. "I think this is the exact opposite of a ketogenic diet, but I figured you needed it," he says when he hands it to her along with a cookie.
"I did," she says quietly, smiling slightly: both because of how much her husband understands her, and because nothing lifts her spirits quite like mac and cheese.
—
She didn't think she was hungry, but she finished off the entire meal, including the bread bowl, before they even pull into their driveway. After it's gone, there's no longer anything to distract her from reality. She doesn't feel angry; she never really does in situations like these… that comes much later, and it's usually when she's alone.
She's been playing the first seizure over and over again in her head, as if somehow, replaying it enough times might change the outcome. But even with the different choices she makes in this cruel, mental rendition of a choose-your-own-adventure story, her brain finds a way to make this nightmare happen all over again.
"Christina… you're in your head too much," Bobby says gently, sitting down on the couch next to her. She looks up at him with a frown. "I know…" But she doesn't know where else to go. Reality sucks, the memories suck, and so does the internet— which is kind of random to be thinking about, but sometimes works as an escape… not today.
"Why don't we do something fun?" She shakes her head. She doesn't even know what she likes anymore. It's like she's trapped in a body that isn't hers. "Everything fun could get me hurt…" she murmurs, her frown deepening.
"I don't think you can get hurt playing board games." She's not even sure they have any board games. Every time they host, one of her crewmates' kids makes off with one of them and she never sees it again.
"I don't feel like it…" She wants to take a nap, but she knows for a fact that's the depression speaking. Depression in August, wow… that's new for her.
"Is there anything you do feel like doing?" Bobby asks, moving closer to her. "Flying," she responds before can stop herself. That's the word she uses to describe most of the activities she likes to do for fun. They all give that feeling. Whether it's inside of an air, or space craft, hooked up to a harness or out on the ocean, they all make her feel like she's flying. Like she's more than her mind or her body; she just… is.
"We could try to go surfing." Christina looks outside. It happens to be a perfect day… it's as though the world is taunting her. "If I drown-"
"You won't. I'll be with you the whole time." She wants to take that offer… she really does… but the idea of having a seizure and almost drowning at the same time freaks her out. And as if out of nowhere, that anxiety feels so suffocating that she finds herself on the verge of a panic attack.
"Hey, it's okay…" Bobby reassures, noticing the signs even before she does. "You're alright. We don't have to go surfing." But it's too late, she's freaking out and she can't get herself to calm down and her chest feels tight and the world is too bright and-
He wraps her in a hug. She makes a noise that's somewhere between a sob and a pant against his shoulder. "You're okay," he rubs her back soothingly. "You're gonna be okay…" Christina just cries harder.
—
"How's she doing?" Reid asks over the phone. It's been an hour since Christina worked herself up so much that she ended up crying herself to sleep in his arms. Bobby doesn't even know how to respond to that simple question. "She's…" He looks over at her unconscious form on the couch. Sadie's cuddled up against her side.
"Grieving," he finally says. It feels a little dramatic to describe this as that. No one died, but yet, this is the best word he has. Grief doesn't have to be confined to the mourning of a lost person, does it?
He looks it up as Reid responds.
Grief: deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement. That's the perfect word then.
"Do you guys need anything? Does she want us to come over? I know she may want to be alone, but if not just give me or anyone else a call…" Bobby already knows that they'd drop anything for her, but it's nice to hear it again, especially after witnessing the strongest woman he knows crying and hyperventillating against his chest as though her heart was breaking.
"I'm sure she wants to be alone… but I actually think it would do her some good to have company if you guys want to stop by tomorrow? Maybe one at a time? I don't want to overwhelm her." Reid agrees and he opens a text thread with everyone but Christina to coordinate.
—
Christina wakes up at 10am which is definitely not normal for her. Even when she's depressed she manages to get up before nine at the very least. Maybe her body needed the rest? Or perhaps her mind… She does feel a little better than the day before.
But if it's 10am, that means Bobby has definitely left for work already. He'd wanted to take the whole week off, but had already been missing a lot given her appointments and she assured him that she'd be fine on her own.
It doesn't, however, surprise her when she walks into her living room and finds Reid. He's a stark reminder of what she's lost… but he's also exactly the person she wants to see.
"Good morning," he says with a smile. She can tell he's being careful with her, but she doesn't really mind. "Hi…" she responds almost shyly, sitting with him on the couch.
"How long have you been here?" She asks with a wince. "Two hours?" The color drains from her face. "It's really no trouble, I didn't have any plans." She really doubts that's true, but she doesn't say anything more about it.
"How are you doing?" She bites her lip and stares at the floor. Where does she even begin? "Um…" she feels more prepared to talk about it now compared to yesterday. "I kind of feel like… I'm not myself." He tilts his head sympathetically.
"You're still you, Christina. No diagnosis can take that from you. This does not define you." She's heard that a hundred times over, on hopeful posters in hospital waiting rooms, and support-group brochures, but hearing it from Reid… that helps it sink in a little deeper.
—
She doesn't feel like talking by the time Jeremy comes over. She eats the soup he brings (courtesy of Catherine) and then lays down on the couch to take a nap. She's not sure why she's so tired all the time… it might be related to the epilepsy itself, and the emotional toll the diagnosis is taking on her.
Or maybe it's because when she's in a certain stage of sleep, all of her problems disappear. There's no pain, no seizures, no list of medical disqualifications… no grief. And when she wakes up, there's a minute, sometimes two if she's lucky, where she doesn't remember that she'll never fly again.
She thinks about all of this as she cuddles against Jeremy's chest, before she eventually gets her wish and slips into that blissful unconsciousness.
—
"Get up…" Victor commands when he walks in to find her not asleep, but laying on the couch and staring into nothingness. "No…" she whines, turning her face into the pillow.
"Come on, Christina… you need fresh air," he says, yanking the blanket away from her. She yelps, gripping her pillow in case he goes for that next. "Leave me alone… I'm chronically ill!" She recently learned that that term now applies to her, and while she has mixed feelings about it, right now she's willing to use it to her advantage and try to gain some sympathy.
"You have epilepsy. Your legs aren't broken." He does try to take the pillow, but thankfully, she's still strong enough to keep a hold of it.
"Maybe they are!" she exclaims with slight frustration. "Sadie and I are going for a walk, join us or stay here and bed rot." Well, when he puts it like that…
She laughs more during that walk than she has during the past month altogether.
—
"I made cookies!" Jenni calls out as soon as she walks into the house. Christina eats three, which is once again not what her doctors recommended, but oh well…
Jenni doesn't force her to go outside or to talk about her feelings, but Christina feels like pouring her heart out for once, so she just hopes Jenni's at least semi-prepared for it.
"I don't know what I'm gonna do… I can't lie here forever, but I also can't go back to work. All the things I love to do are off limits until we can figure out a treatment plan that works for me and even then, it's possible I'll never be able to do anything like that again…" she begins to ramble before Jenni even sits down.
"I doubt that's really true… but even if it is, we can find you new hobbies… and a new job." Christina frowns deeply. "But I don't want a new job… I want to be an astronaut… It's not fair." She knows it sounds childish, but she doesn't really care.
"Have you ever thought about finding another job at NASA? You could work in CAPCOM like me! Or you could go back to your engineering roots and work on the rockets." Christina blinks because no, she hasn't thought about that… not for a long time.
She had always wanted to be an astronaut, but there was a pragmatic part of her that knew her dream might be unattainable… yet she had always promised herself that she wouldn't give up if she couldn't get in. Working at NASA in any capacity would be a dream come true… and that's still the case. She just hasn't been in the headspace to consider that possibility… until now.
She throws herself onto Jenni in the most enthusiastic hug she's ever given.
9 months later
"Are you ready?" Jenni asks with a huge smile, leaning over to Christina's work station. Christina takes a deep breath, before giving her a confident nod and keying the microphone on her headset.
"Good morning, ISS crew!" she exclaims. The joy in her voice is sincere.
"Morning, Nana!" Jessica responds immediately, followed quickly by Jack and Sophie.
Her eyes wander to a sticky note that was left on one of her monitors. She tears up slightly as she reads it.
I am so fucking proud of you. - Reid