[ It's still strange to her, seeing notes from "034" and knowing that it's Sam. Why "034" and not his name, she's not wholly sure beyond simple identification, some military function rather than civilian. In either case, it makes her vague uncomfortable. He was Sam not a number to her. Joan wonders sometimes if he'd agree. ]
Hi, Sam. Everything ok? I'm just still trying to get my head around things.
[ And he will be kind of hunched over on the edge of his bunk awkwardly since he's super tall, but there's a kind of semi-soaked medkit that he's managed to salvage. Overall he looks alright, pretty healthy in the face and eyes, but the duct tape and gauze thing isn't really gonna cut it for more than a week so... ]
[ Joan berates herself on the walk over, berates herself because she should have known better, a feeling that she's felt in the past but never so poignantly as—
She cuts off that line of thinking before it gets anywhere too serious. There's a task at hand and she has to focus on it, bu she's preempting herself, trying to head all the possibilities of how things have gone wrong off in her mind. She should have been more thorough, shouldn't have trusted Sam to be able to make a call that she was obviously more qualified to make. She should have asked to see to the dressings herself.
If something goes wrong, that'll be on her, even though they hadn't quite given her the room to take on that full responsibility. Joan still feels it, like a knot tightening in her chest when she reaches 105 and knocks on the door. ]
Sam? [ she calls from the other side. ] It's me — Joan.
[ He's managed to catch a time when the room isn't filled with occupants. Chief's out doing his own thing, as for everyone else? Well he's not sure. All the same, he gives her a smile. He's not in pain really, if anything the wound is more of an annoyance, a reminder. ]
[ By the time Joan comes in, she's managed to stow as much of her baggage for the sake of a steady pair of hands. Just how long they remain steady is another question altogether, though when she reminds herself of the current scenario (ie: duct tape) her anxiety gives way to a sort of peevishness that pinches her expression.
She has with her her own medical kit, not waterlogged as it came with her from Rapture. And much more impressively stocked given the resources found in city's medical pavillon. Setting it down, she looks at him squarely — she's so small and he's so huge, they're almost eye-to-eye with him slumped on the bottom bunk. ]
Never be sorry for asking me for help. That's what I'm here for. [ Making a small motion with her hands, she urges him to stand up. ] What you should be sorry for is not telling me sooner.
[ It's automatic, but very genuine as he follows her motion and rises up. He glances down at her, clearly still amused at their differences in height. ]
[ There's a pair of medical scissors in her pack along with sterile gauze, more bandages and tape, but Joan takes a moment to peruse what's left of the kit Sam's provided. She talks with her head ducked, glancing up occasionally to make eye-contact (always important). ]
Not probably. Could have. [ Her tone's admonishing, but not mean-spirited in any way. Just exasperated but ultimately a little fond too. ] Listen, Sam. [ Scissors found, she straightens again and fails to be much taller than she was a moment ago. Joan looks up at him, as squarely as she can. ] The Chief asked me to be your medic. That means your health and your well-being is my responsibility. And just like you've got to do your job as a Spartan, I've got to do my job looking after you.
So you can't keep stuff like this from me, even if you don't think it's a big deal. I need you to trust me. And I need to know I can trust you too. Okay?
Sam looks a little surprised, but in the back of his head he knows he shouldn't be. He'd already overreacted (well maybe not overreacted) about keeping him safe. Sam could take care of himself decently enough but to have a medic? Well. He offers her a smile. ]
Alright, if those are the Chief's orders.
[ His eyes meet her own squarely now, a very soft green color that he keeps trained on her. ]
[ She would roll her eyes a little at the mention of Chief's orders if she wasn't a little touched by what follows after. Sherlock had told her once that their work together had been a collaboration — words that had given her a sense of accomplishment she hadn't felt in a long time. Chief would continue to be difficult and a problem, they'd maybe never get their communication skills up to par, but with Sam there was the potential for something truly like working together.
That gets her to smile as she ducks her head down, her hands beginning to pluck at the bandages that tourniquet the gauze and the duct tape down. ]
That's right, [ Joan says. ] A collaboration. [ A beat and then she looks up again, sharply, pointing at him with the end of her scissors. ] But only if you want to.
It takes two, doesn't it? To want to work together.
[ The way that Sam states it is incredibly matter of fact. He comes from a group, a melting pot of minds with the same goal--to protect and to serve. What were they if not all team players?
He doesn't flinch as she works, if anything, the image of a model patient, still and calm. ]
[ He is a model patient, which doesn't manage to surprise Joan at all. Every so often she steals a glance up towards his face, smiling that reassuring smile of his. She wonders briefly what his previous medics were like, if they had anything akin to bedside manner at all or if they were military too — all blank faces and matter-of-fact assessments. ]
You know, [ she says, her head ducked again to focus on her work. ] I have a partner back home. He said to me once that I was better with him. [ Her hands pause and Joan inhales-exhales once. She thinks about Sherlock a lot, but she rarely talks about it. ] I'd like to think most people are like that — better off with somebody they can rely on than on their own.
You know, [ He says, a very soft tone to his voice. He pauses and watches her work for a few moments. Better off with somebody you can rely on. They all know what that is like, the Spartans. You work together. All of them or none of them. That's how he was raised. He breathes out before continuing. ] That's how we were back home.
[ He smiles a little. ]
Being on your own can be useful sometimes, but it's always best to have someone alongside you. [ More towards Joan now: ] Someone who can watch your back. Someone you'd do the same for.
[ For all that Joan has an uncomfortable feeling sometimes around Sam — a niggling at her intuition that tells her that there's something here, something amiss — she can't help but smile at what he says, her thoughts turning towards Sherlock again. She's still thinking about him when she says: ]
That kind of trust doesn't come easy. [ Straightening, she looks at him eye to eye as best she can. Difficult for a woman of her height and a man of his, even when he's sitting. ] I'm glad the rest of your team is here, so that you can have that.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
w23, d2
MESSAGE: joan?
how are you?
no subject
Hi, Sam. Everything ok? I'm just still trying to get my head around things.
no subject
that's what i'm here for.
i'm ok.
i was wondering if you could help me.
no subject
Sure, what's up? I haven't got anything on my plate rn so your timing's perfect.
no subject
with the wound in my side.
do you think you could maybe look at it?
[ Please don't be angry omg......... ]
no subject
Tell me where you're at. I'll come to you.
no subject
room 105.
i have bandages and antiseptic.
just need help getting the duct tape off.
[ I'm so sorry. ]
no subject
Duct tape.
Sam, you're not in trouble, but we're going to have to have a talk about that.
[ Cause, seriously. ]
no subject
field medicine isn't chief's specialty.
it does the job for a while.
no subject
It's been a week.
no subject
not bad.
no subject
We are having a talk when I get there.
no subject
yes ma'am.
i'll be waiting.
[ And he will be kind of hunched over on the edge of his bunk awkwardly since he's super tall, but there's a kind of semi-soaked medkit that he's managed to salvage. Overall he looks alright, pretty healthy in the face and eyes, but the duct tape and gauze thing isn't really gonna cut it for more than a week so... ]
no subject
She cuts off that line of thinking before it gets anywhere too serious. There's a task at hand and she has to focus on it, bu she's preempting herself, trying to head all the possibilities of how things have gone wrong off in her mind. She should have been more thorough, shouldn't have trusted Sam to be able to make a call that she was obviously more qualified to make. She should have asked to see to the dressings herself.
If something goes wrong, that'll be on her, even though they hadn't quite given her the room to take on that full responsibility. Joan still feels it, like a knot tightening in her chest when she reaches 105 and knocks on the door. ]
Sam? [ she calls from the other side. ] It's me — Joan.
no subject
[ He's managed to catch a time when the room isn't filled with occupants. Chief's out doing his own thing, as for everyone else? Well he's not sure. All the same, he gives her a smile. He's not in pain really, if anything the wound is more of an annoyance, a reminder. ]
Sorry about this.
no subject
She has with her her own medical kit, not waterlogged as it came with her from Rapture. And much more impressively stocked given the resources found in city's medical pavillon. Setting it down, she looks at him squarely — she's so small and he's so huge, they're almost eye-to-eye with him slumped on the bottom bunk. ]
Never be sorry for asking me for help. That's what I'm here for. [ Making a small motion with her hands, she urges him to stand up. ] What you should be sorry for is not telling me sooner.
no subject
[ It's automatic, but very genuine as he follows her motion and rises up. He glances down at her, clearly still amused at their differences in height. ]
Probably could have avoided this.
[ A beat. ]
I just can't get out of this binding. That's all.
no subject
Not probably. Could have. [ Her tone's admonishing, but not mean-spirited in any way. Just exasperated but ultimately a little fond too. ] Listen, Sam. [ Scissors found, she straightens again and fails to be much taller than she was a moment ago. Joan looks up at him, as squarely as she can. ] The Chief asked me to be your medic. That means your health and your well-being is my responsibility. And just like you've got to do your job as a Spartan, I've got to do my job looking after you.
So you can't keep stuff like this from me, even if you don't think it's a big deal. I need you to trust me. And I need to know I can trust you too. Okay?
no subject
Sam looks a little surprised, but in the back of his head he knows he shouldn't be. He'd already overreacted (well maybe not overreacted) about keeping him safe. Sam could take care of himself decently enough but to have a medic? Well. He offers her a smile. ]
Alright, if those are the Chief's orders.
[ His eyes meet her own squarely now, a very soft green color that he keeps trained on her. ]
We'll work together.
no subject
That gets her to smile as she ducks her head down, her hands beginning to pluck at the bandages that tourniquet the gauze and the duct tape down. ]
That's right, [ Joan says. ] A collaboration. [ A beat and then she looks up again, sharply, pointing at him with the end of her scissors. ] But only if you want to.
no subject
[ The way that Sam states it is incredibly matter of fact. He comes from a group, a melting pot of minds with the same goal--to protect and to serve. What were they if not all team players?
He doesn't flinch as she works, if anything, the image of a model patient, still and calm. ]
I want to.
[ He breathes, something steady and slow. ]
I would like to.
no subject
[ He is a model patient, which doesn't manage to surprise Joan at all. Every so often she steals a glance up towards his face, smiling that reassuring smile of his. She wonders briefly what his previous medics were like, if they had anything akin to bedside manner at all or if they were military too — all blank faces and matter-of-fact assessments. ]
You know, [ she says, her head ducked again to focus on her work. ] I have a partner back home. He said to me once that I was better with him. [ Her hands pause and Joan inhales-exhales once. She thinks about Sherlock a lot, but she rarely talks about it. ] I'd like to think most people are like that — better off with somebody they can rely on than on their own.
no subject
[ He smiles a little. ]
Being on your own can be useful sometimes, but it's always best to have someone alongside you. [ More towards Joan now: ] Someone who can watch your back. Someone you'd do the same for.
no subject
That kind of trust doesn't come easy. [ Straightening, she looks at him eye to eye as best she can. Difficult for a woman of her height and a man of his, even when he's sitting. ] I'm glad the rest of your team is here, so that you can have that.
no subject
[ He gives a pause and lets Joan work, moving here or there if she needs him to, holding still when asked. ]
We're all in it now.
(no subject)