milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Galadan!"

'Worry and guilt' promptly sink down on top of the mix of confusing emotions (relief, inadequacy, gratitude, sulkiness, and utter embarrassment) that Mary has been toting around with her ever since her rescue.

She stares from River to Galadan. "What is --"

"He's okay," River says, without sounding particularly concerned.

Galadan went into this plan knowing full well he'd get a killer migraine out of it. So.

She also doesn't budge from being an andain-crutch, though. (Galadan's extremely blood-smeared face is making her shirt a little messier than it started out, but it's not as if she cares.)

Gently, "The transdimensional strain is cumulative. It's a temporary reaction."

By this point 'temporary' is 'at least a day,' but the fact remains.

"I never thought --"

Somehow, it had never once occurred to Mary that Galadan might get himself hurt coming after her. River, perhaps, but for Galadan it had seemed impossible.

"Oh -- if it was going to be such a trouble, you ought not to have come!" she wails, unreasonably, and then takes a deep breath, steadying herself.

"If it is strain he must lie down and rest. And have fluids, also."

"Volume, Mary," Galadan says mildly, half-turning so that his mouth is fully clear of River's shoulder.

"If you please."

His eyes remain closed.

Opening them is going to be less than ideal.

"Grass isn't an optimal sunblock," River says, in tones of reassurance.

That's as may be, but nobody seems to be moving; guilt-ridden and useless as Mary feels at the moment, the skills she's been learning for the past two years are starting to kick in all the same and bring her natural bossiness back to the fore.

"I was not recommending the grass," she says, forcing her voice low with an effort. "We must get him inside!"

Galadan hisses a breath through his teeth, half-lifting one hand and then lowering it back down to his side.

Carefully.

"And so you shall, momentarily."

For one thing, he'd prefer to get his shields firmly back in place first. But that goes without saying.

"But perhaps some water first. And a towel, if you would."

It would not do to make an entrance in the bar with so much blood smeared across his face.

He might gain a reputation for being uncivilized.

And we can't have that!

River glances at Mary. "Got mobility," she says, earnestly.

This seems to translate basically to Could you run grab that, please and thank you?

Any of her patients back on Aberdeen would be getting an earful right now on what their priorities ought to be when they had just collaped in a faint like a delicate flower.

. . . on the other hand, maybe it's a sign of how much she's grown that Mary takes a moment to evaluate the likelihood of this getting her anywhere in enough time to make up the time lost by arguing, and confines herself to a sigh and an eyeroll as she takes off for the bar at a run.

The wave came in from his father about five minutes ago: enough time to send a quick wave of his own to Kaylee before hurrying to Milliways.

Simon is at the bar with his first-aid kit in one hand, watching the front door for any sign of either his father or -- but it's Mary he sees first, out of the corner of his eye.

"Mary," as he takes a step toward her, "are you all right? Where are the others?"

"Out back," snaps Mary, without slowing her stride, "because they will not come in until he has wiped his stupid face."

She snaps her hand down on the bar, and snaps out, "Water, and a towel." As they appear, she glances over her shoulder and belatedly adds, "River is well; Galadan is suffering from exhaustion and over-strain."

After contacting Simon, he'd next tried to reach Regan, who's currently standing in for him at a local community event. When she'd been unable to answer her link, he'd left a message.

Bajian Li had answered his next wave, however; issuing instructions and handling the follow-up logistics had occupied several minutes.

By the time Gabriel Tam finally strides through the door to Milliways, his standard, coolly professional demeanor is worn exceedingly thin with worry and stress.

The instant he spots his son and Mary at the bar, his shoulders slump with relief. Only for a moment, however, and then he's moving, making his way toward them as quickly as possible.

"Mary?"

For a moment, all Mary can think when she sees Gabriel's face is burning fury at herself for not being quicker at escaping.

But there isn't really time for that; she's already grabbed up the towel and water and is heading towards the door.

"You may as well follow me to them, then," she says, to both Gabriel and Simon, and swings out the door, calling back, for Gabriel's benefit, "I am fine!"

(She'd forgotten to mention this to Simon -- or rather, it hadn't occurred to her that he would particularly care.)