Just Breakfast - Stark/Jamieson

[do]

USS ENTERPRISE
MESS HALL
10TH JUNE 2171

Monday

On Monday, Chief Medical Officer Tennyson Stark was hung over.

This was largely because on Sunday (what he remembered of it), he and Max had celebrated not being vaporised by the Jem'Hadar in the attack of a week ago in their own traditional method of debauchery. That is getting completely shit faced and collapsing at some point during the evening, in the snatch of a wanton female who wanted them to guess her weight by sitting on their faces.

Sure beat the hell out of finding a bathroom scale.

Waking up the next morning, he was aware of two things. One, his head had miraculously transformed into a kettle drum performing the opening score of the Mikado and second, the underwear he was wearing was not his own. Or for that matter, male's.

After throwing up and giving himself a shot (a good physician always kept his own cure on in the same compartment as his condoms), Stark had stood in the shower for a good twenty minutes, trying to wash the sin off his flesh and the grin off his face so he could get to work. He was on duty this morning and already later than he should be. Once the alcoholic suppressant he had administered himself took effect in his system, his stomach returned to some measure of normal and tugged at him to go get some breakfast.

Getting dressed, he frowned because there had been no medical remedy known to man that could removed the bloodshot tinge from the eyes of a man who had drunk way too much and had vague recollection of being kicked out of somewhere that wasn’t the Outpost. Putting on his game face as best as he could, Stark made his way to the mess hall for something to eat, ready to begin the day.

*****

Lt. Skye Jamieson was queuing for the pot of coffee in the busy mess hall, noting how many more crew members seemed to be needing caffeine this morning than usual, and wondered if she should just forgo the real deal for a cup from the replicator. As she caught sight of the Enterprise CMO, she hid a grin and figured some were in worse shape than she was.

Stark had grabbed himself a coffee, making it extra strong in the hopes that the caffeine would do what all the drugs in the world could not, make him remotely enthused to face his office and the patients that would come with it. With his luck, he'll probably get a rectal exam first thing in the morning. Karma was like that when you lived the way he did. Grabbing something simple from the food replicator, he was grateful that his chicken sandwich didn't smell of anything when he sat down at the only free table left in the place with his cup of coffee, barely registering anyone else.

When she finally got her turn and poured herself a mug of the heavy duty brown sludge, helping herself to a lot of milk and sugar before grabbing a muffin from the basket (blueberry, she hoped), she realised there weren't any free tables left.

"Figures," she muttered to herself, about to head out to go drink and eat somewhere else when she spotted Dr. Stark was sitting by his lonesome. Trying to not grin again at the state of him, Skye squared her shoulders and approached his table. "Mind if I join you, Doctor?"

Stark glanced up and noted Lt. Jamieson, whom he had seen around the ship but hadn't really spoken to. Occasionally, he came across her name in reports, she seemed to always show up to Sick Bay when he wasn't on duty and ended up with Dawson, the other attending. Stark took a moment to answer; automatically measuring her against the yard stick he had in his head for all women, whether or not she was a Desiree Stark fan. Jamieson didn't appear so but he had been wrong before.

"Go ahead," he said politely, though somewhat indifferent.

"Thank you." Taking a seat, she decided the bloodshot eyes were self-induced, as in heavy drinking the night before, rather than just lack of sleep. But it wasn't for her to comment and so she simply drank her milky and sweet coffee and attacked her blueberry muffin in silence.

Stark creaked an eye in her direction, observing her a little more because it gave him something to do and because he made it a point to know everyone on the ship and found it odd that he seemed to keep missing her, especially a bridge officer. "Early shift?" he took a stab at conversation because awkward silences did not suit him.

"Yes." She pulled her attention away from the view port and gave him a measured smile. "Since the Jem'Hadar, my schedule has been shot."

Stark snorted, understanding completely. "I get that. I have a Head Nurse trying to get posted back to Gaia because the fire fight near Sick Bay was too much for her." Poor No.12.

"Oh, really?" An ex-MACO (if there was ever such a thing - once a Marine, always a Marine), Skye was a fervent believer in Shark training offered to all Starfleet graduates and this was a case in point. "You would think that medical staff or not, when opting for a position on a starship, they would be combat-ready." She tried to place the head nurse in her mind and when she did, Skye felt some remorse for what she'd just said. But only a little. "I'm sorry. Cecilia is actually a decent nurse," she found herself saying, even though it didn't excuse her chickening out.

Stark kept his comments to himself. He had resolved that she had to go the first time she called his mother a literary genius. Fortunately, the Jem'Hadar had taken care of that for him (who said they were all bad?) and he didn't have to bother. "Yeah, it's tragic."

Hearing the sarcasm in his tone loud and clear, Skye realised she shouldn't have worried about being proper and polite in front of him. She filed that little titbit of information away, along with the knowledge the man liked to hang out with Flyboy McCulloch and that, despite serving on the same ship for at least a year, she had never once run into him in sickbay. Funny that, she thought and returned to her coffee for a sip.

"Will they be able to provide a replacement?" She was aware the colony had been hit and medical personnel were on short supply as it always seemed to be. Maybe she should have gone for that when she had realigned her vocation some years back.

A slight smirk crossed his lips, knowing that Matt Whelan was probably spitting chips with the prospect of finding another Head Nurse for him. "Probably. Thirteen's the charm."

"Thirteen?" Her curiosity piqued, Skye put her mug down and looked up to meet his eyes.

"Cecilia was No.12," he answered, figuring that would explain it clearly enough.

Quirking an eyebrow, Skye found herself smiling. "So one a month, on average?" She had no idea the Chief Medical Officer was such a hard ass. Surely, they couldn't have all run away from a fire fight...

"One lasted 18 hours," he said almost proudly. That was a good day, he smiled inwardly even though Maxy had told him he really needed a hobby until Stark explained to him that spitting out nurses was better than golf.

Wow. The fact it seemed to be a challenge for him, she didn't know what to think. Except maybe that he had issues with women. Had to. "Anyone taking bets on how long Thirteen will last?" Damn, she wasn't sure how she would be able to look at the next head nurse in the eye after this.

"Depends, I usually figure it out as soon as they give me an idea of their reading habits..." He wondered if she would make the connection when suddenly, he saw a kid who had been loitering around from two tables away suddenly make his move to approach them.

Reading habits? It took Skye a moment to connect the dot, but she eventually did, just as the young Marine approached their table. Desiree Stark, the novelist. She had to be his mother, why else would he mention someone's tastes in literature? And hadn't she heard as much on the scuttlebutt?

"Uh, Doctor Stark." Private Collins, one of Riley's Sharks drifted towards their table after skulking closer and closer over the period of the last ten minutes. "Are you going to Sick Bay soon?"

"Just finishing my coffee," Stark replied, looking over Jamieson's shoulder at the young man. "What's the problem?"

The kid looked at Lt. Jamieson and flinched as if he speaking his mind would make the deck beneath him open up and swallow him whole. "Oh, uh nothing. It can wait until we get to Sick Bay."

Stark rolled his eyes, realising with that furtive glance in Jameson's direction what the problem was and sighed, "Get going to Sick Bay. I'll meet you there. Unless something is going to fall off in the next two seconds, I'm pretty sure it can wait til I finish my coffee."

Skye felt for the kid, she really did. Leaving the coffee for now in case she had to burst with laughter, she opted for the safer option and busied herself with the muffin, trying to not make it worse for the private.

The young man's eyes widened and he shot Jamieson a look of embarrassment before scurrying off, face as red as beet.

"Ah, the life of a star," he said, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and draining it.

"Duty calls, huh?" Dr. Stark had no shame, apparently.

"Like the girl he probably paid for," Stark retorted. "Nothing a shot of penicillin won't cure from an old fashioned syringe that was made to be used on horses." He grinned, standing up from the table.

"Ouch," was all Skye said. What else could she add to that?

"I call it my ‘scared straight’ treatment." He winked. "See you around, Lieutenant." He bade her farewell, finding himself pleasantly amused by the conversation as he stepped away.

"Yes, I guess I will." She was still smiling long after the doctor left the mess hall. "What an odd man," she said under her breath. But what stayed with her was the clear impression he was one to call it how it was, and that, she could appreciate.

~

[do]

USS ENTERPRISE
MESS HALL
11TH JUNE 2171

Tuesday

In the process of reviewing the latest inventory list in Sick Bay to compile his monthly requisition order (Damn, maybe No.12 was good for something after all), the morning so far had been uneventful. A full night's sleep, a fresh cup of coffee and the slight whiff of tasty aroma from his scrambled eggs and he was in a good mood. His day was full, with requisition orders to make, including reviewing possible candidates for Head Nurse (Lucky No.13) even if No.12’s transfer orders hadn’t come through yet, much to the consternation of her and him. It seemed that Whelan was being particularly stubborn about letting hr transfer. Stark also had a few physicals to conduct but it was more or less a routine day and on this morning, routine left him content.

Maxy and his flyboys were on manoeuvres this morning. Apparently, the recent ass kicking (depending on the perspective you heard it from) had given the Grifters incentive to tighten up their training and, even if Maxy had a love life more shot up than the NX after the fight, the man was a first rate CAG and demanded the best from his people. Which meant that Stark was dining alone this morning and even when he was in a good mood, Stark's disposition in general told people very clearly 'go away' so he looked forward to a quiet breakfast alone.

*****

Feeling like she would never get used to this shift again, especially since she'd been pulling doubles on most days since the clash with the Jems, it was Skye's turn to look a little worst for wear this morning. As she eyed the food on display, her stomach growled even though her brain was telling it, it wasn't awake enough for it yet. The eggs looked too damn cheery and the Danishes too sweet and sticky, and when Chef ended up placing a couple of things on her tray, Skye didn't even really register what and just nodded and went on her way.

She noted Dr. Stark sitting at a table and idly wondered if this was going to be the norm, seeing him every morning after spending a year hardly ever bumping into the man. She was passing the CMO's table when someone quicker than she snatched up the last available table at the back. Stopping midstride, she paused, looking around for another spot to park herself in.

Stark glanced up and saw Lieutenant Jamieson standing near his table, looking annoyed at missing the last free spot, and felt a hint of sympathy at her loss. Remembering his conversation with her the day before and recalling that she wasn't annoying as hell, he spoke up. "Welcome to sit here if you want," he said politely.

"Oh, thanks," she said, looking down and realising she'd been standing right next to him. "I don't mean to intrude," she said, taking a seat. "I guess I'm going to have to work on my speed..." She gave him a polite smile before looking down at her tray, unable to hide her surprise. Oatmeal and... tea?

He caught the look in her eyes and arched a brow. "Not what you ordered?" he asked.

"I..." Skye hung her head in embarrassment. "Not fully awake yet. I think Chef is having fun at my expense." She leaned down and sniffed at the drink. "Tea, can you believe it?"

"Well, it is filled with anti-oxidants and is actually better for you than coffee," he remarked, slipping momentarily into CMO mode before the imp came out to play again a second later. "If you like, when I give him his next physical, I'll tell him that skin rash he's got is actually Kriosian crabs." He smirked.

Coffee freak through and through, Skye was pulling a face as she brought the cup to her lips tentatively when Stark mentioned the crabs. "What?" She eyed curiously. "Oh, the young Private?" Skin rash was already more than she wanted to know.

"No, I mean Chef," Stark repeated good-naturedly. "You know? Payback on your behalf."

"Oh." A wicked gleam in her eyes, she smiled. "Well, in that case, yes, please do." Leaving the tea for now, she picked up a spoon to poke the oatmeal.

"Wicked." He grinned, liking the glint of evil he could see in her eyes. "Would you like me to tell him that if he has sex he'll fall over dead?" Stark grinned.

Skye eyed him for a second, wondering if he ever crossed the line. He was an intriguing man for sure, she decided. "Don't push it or he'll know you're pulling his leg," she replied.

"You're right, of course," he said, digging his fork into his food. "I'll tell him that he'll need to stay celibate for a month to get rid of them." He winked at her before taking a mouthful and chewing, still wearing mischief on his lips.

"You won't," she said after a moment of watching him eat his scrambled eggs, a hint of daring in her voice.

"That sounds like a challenge." Stark met her gaze, paying attention to the woman for the first time. He'd only been aware of her in a cursory way but now she took on the shape of someone... interesting. "If you throw down the gauntlet, I will pick it up," he teased.

"We'll see that soon enough, I say. A couple of weeks' abstinence and we should be getting a real grumpy Chef," Skye returned, meeting Stark's sharp blue eyes.

"Especially when I have some friends of mine hit on him when he's on shore leave," Stark grinned, knowing plenty of girls who'd do just about anything to impress a doctor. "Celibacy could be harder than he thinks. No pun intended."

"You do have a cruel streak in you, don't you, for a doctor..." she remarked before attacking her breakfast before it got too cold.

"A man's got to have hobbies," Stark replied and prayed that hers wasn't reading Desiree Stark.

"I suppose so, otherwise you tend to get in trouble," she teased. "Thing is, you have to pick up a hobby that won't get you there too." Alright, this oatmeal thing wasn't that bad, she had to admit to herself if not the cook as she took another spoonful. Cinnamon and apple.

"Well, the best hobbies are the ones that do get you in trouble." He shrugged. "It just depends on how far you push it and who the mark is," he explained, taking another bite of food.

"I suppose you're right," she agreed. "If there's no fun in it, what's the point, right?" She raised her tea. "Okay, let's try this then."

"You who are about to drink, I salute you," he said, raising his mug of coffee to her.

"Oh! That's fresh," Skye exclaimed, just noticing his drink. "So you sell me the tea while you still drink its bad cousin?" She grinned and took a sip and grimaced. "The only thing that's similar between these is that they're both hot," she commented dejectedly.

"I said it was healthier," Stark pointed out smugly. "I never said it tasted as good as coffee." He laughed, charmed by the slight pout on her lips.

"Amen to that." She nodded and took another sip anyway. "As long as there's caffeine in it, I guess it'll have to do. I just can't seem to get in sync with this morning shift thing," she admitted. "And don't laugh," she added, smiling herself. He probably knew already they were a comms officer down since Ens. Trevor Evans was laid up in his Sickbay.

"Wouldn't think of it," he chuckled, finding that she lit when she smiled and shook the thought out of his head. "It takes some getting used to," he admitted. "When I came on board the NX, I had to wrap my head around starship time and the fact that it's a 24-hour clock without day or night."

"Yeah, that was weird at first. So, you like it here?" She realised her question sounded like he'd just gotten onboard but then they hadn't exactly socialised before now.

Stark blinked because he hadn't really thought about it. As disconcerting as it was to readjust his body clock to life on a starship after a year on Gaia, it was actually good to be back on a ship. "Yeah," he nodded, easing back into his chair, his expression thoughtful. "I do actually. Spent the war on a ship and then the year after it on Gaia, so coming on board the NX, was more like coming home."

"Home, huh? That's nice. Why the break between the two? You were injured?" She worked on polishing her bowl of oatmeal, his hands catching her attention as he handled his utensils like medical instruments. Okay. She looked up, feeling like she'd been caught stealing.

"No, I just needed a break," he shrugged, thinking about his disposition after the war had ended. "I served on the SS Livingstone, a medical ship for most of the war, putting back together bodies and seeing more death that I wanted to." He thought of Maxy and the promise to ensure the man kept his leg. Stark sometimes suspected that he had accepted reassignment on Gaia so that he could continue treating Max, to save the leg that would have been beyond 22nd century science to repair. "I needed a reset for a bit, you know, feel ground under foot, look out the window and see a backyard. Of course, after a year, I was bored out of my fucking mind."

Skye nodded, having seen her fair share of blood and guts amongst the Marines during the war. She could only imagine how it was from the point of view of a doctor. A wistful smile stole across her face as he mentioned the need to be grounded. "I found myself needing a change of scenery too." She played with her cup before she downed the rest of its content, trying to clamp down on the shudder that caused. "Speaking of which, I should be going..."

"Yeah, me too," Stark replied, suddenly realising the time. Shit, he'd completely forgotten that he had a whole day of activities waiting for him in Sick Bay. The time had raced by talking to her. "Uh, nice talking to you, Jamieson," he said, clearing his throat, trying to regain that reset he was talking about a moment ago. His blue eyes touching hers.

"Likewise, Stark." She was smiling again, the look of sudden surprise on his face unmistakable as time seemed to catch up with him. "Hope I didn't make you late for anything."

"Being Chief Medical Officer means nothing ever gets started without me," he said cockily. "Besides, No.12 isn't quite that useless, she does know where her ass is so I'm sure she'd hold the fort until I get there." Cecilia was still on duty until her transfer came through even if she wasn't terribly happy about it.

"Oh." Skye winced at that. "Thought she had already run away." She winked, standing up.

"She's stuck with me for a little while more," he answered, doing the same, gathering the padd he had been working on before she joined him. "Although the sooner she goes the better, the pins she's sticking in that voodoo doll of me are eventually gonna start to work," he joked, flashing a smile.

That smile was smarmy as all hell but somehow it softened that cheekiness she saw in his eyes, making him look almost earnest. "Oh, we wouldn't want that." With a grin, she picked up her tray and headed to the front of the mess to drop it off. "See you around, Stark," she threw over her shoulder.

"Likewise," he said, staring after her, dormant emotions swirling around his head as she walked away, leaving her smile still branded in his memory.

Oh shit, Tenny, this could get complicated.

~

[do]

USS ENTERPRISE
MESS HALL
12TH JUNE 2171

Wednesday

Stark was having coffee.

He was perusing the Starfleet records of all the candidates put forward for the position of Head Nurse. None of them seemed to engender much interest in him. Even if Whelan was steadfastly refusing to accept No.12’s transfer, Stark was determined to find a replacement. However, he found that occasionally while he had been sitting here, his eyes would look up and scour the mess, taking a nonchalant glance at the door.

No, he wasn't looking out for Lt. Jamieson at all.

Not feeling any more awake than she'd been yesterday morning, Skye was nonetheless dead set on not letting Chef surprise her with his idea of breakfast. She helped herself to some yogurt and fruit and a coffee, which she proceeded to drown in milk and sugar despite the looks some fellow crew members gave her. So she had a sweet tooth, they could sue her.

Turning around to find a table, this time she wasn't looking for a free one so much as the one Dr. Stark would be sitting at.

*****

Stabbing at the piece of bacon on his plate (no not disappointed at all), Stark lifted his gaze just in time to see Lt. Jamieson staring his way. Forgetting his food at the moment and reminding himself that she was just interesting to talk to and not anything else, Stark played it cool (or rather tried), by lifting his cup of coffee in her direction, in greeting.

Skye hadn't expected him to look right at her upon sighting him and there was a second when she felt like the proverbial deer in the headlights but she smoothly pushed past it. Smiling, she nodded and approached.

"Good morning, Dr. Stark."

"Good morning, Lt. Jamieson," Stark answered politely, the barest hint of a smile on his face. For a man who was rarely house broken in the morning, Stark was surprising himself by how he was managing not to be a total asshole.

There were a few free tables this morning but she motioned at the empty chair across from him. "May I?"

"Sure," he said, down-playing his pleasure at her taking the seat. It surprised him yesterday how entertained he had been by their morning conversation and he was looking to see if today would be a repeat or was it just a fluke. "Coffee this time?" he teased.

"Hell, yes." Her reply was unchecked and she blinked at her usage of irreverent language. After all, Stark wasn't only the CMO on this boat, he was a Lt. Cdr. and outranked her. Bad habits taken among the MACOs died hard obviously and that was probably the hardest thing to alter when she had switched to Starfleet proper and made officer.

"And here I was going to suggest you try chamomile or mint tea or whatever they're serving at the goddamn women's auxiliary meeting." He grinned, liking the way she talked because it was devoid of pretension and probably a product of her Shark background. Not that he had read her file, of course... well, not all of it anyway.

"You're a funny man," she said, taking a seat and going for her coffee. She met his gaze and shook her head. "Is there such a group on Gaia? Maybe I should check it out." Smartass. She'd noticed his use of goddamn and figured it was his way to let her know he wasn't a stickler for protocol.

"Not the women's auxiliary but there is a..." he started to say when he remembered what was about to leave his lips and there was no way it could pass without him wincing visibly. "Society for the Appreciation of Persimmon Chaste."

"What?" Skye looked up from her cup. "Persimmon who?"

He should have just shut the fuck up. If she turned out to be a Desiree Stark fan....wait. Did she just say Persimmon who? Stark crooked an eye at her. "You read any Desiree Stark books?" he asked, deciding that it was time to get that out of the way once and for all.

Shit. What should she say to this? Before she could wince at the thought of picking up one of these books let along reading it, she brought the coffee cup to her lips. "Would it insult you if I said no?"

"Thank Christ," he said, visibly relieved. "I hate those goddamn books. Always have. You think being a Shark was tough, try being the kid of a romance novelist. That's a new definition of hell." Of course, Stark was exaggerating to a degree. He had loved his mother, adored her even, but many of his eccentricities stemmed directly from his dysfunctional upbringing.

"That bad, huh?" This came as a surprise. And to think she had been worried about hurting his feelings or something. "I've never read one. Really, really not my taste," she felt the need to stress though she wasn't sure why. And she wasn't certain why he mentioned the Sharks. It wasn't like her own childhood had had anything to do with the military. That had come later on. But she was a little surprised he knew she'd been a Shark. It wasn't like she advertised it.

"You're lucky," Stark shook his head. "I had to listen to recitals with shit like this 'Persimmon admired Lord Cockswallow's jaunty walk as he strode to the armoury, watching the way the leather clung to his hips, the crinkle of hair peeking through his ruffled shirt and his smile that melted her inside like butter in daylight. Every woman yearns to feel this way about their man, to worship at his altar, to kneel before him and drink of his essence.' Suffice to say, high school was hell," he retorted, remembering how many fights he used to get into with guys giving him shit about how his mom wrote porn without the pictures.

She was trying not to chuckle at that but it was hard. "And you somehow felt the need to memorise some of it?" She lifted eyes to him full of mirth. "I'm sorry, really, I am." She tried to sober up.

"Had to memorise it," he said, taking a sip of his coffee. "She said that's what I should recite when I asked Becky Tate to go with me to the dance. I was twelve. Her dad nearly chased me out of their house with a shotgun," Stark replied, completely serious.

"God." She wasn't sure if he was making this up or not. "Maybe all those boarding schools weren't so bad. This Becky ever spoke to you again?" For some reason, Stark didn't strike her as someone having difficulty approaching women - or getting one.

"Oh yeah." Stark grinned at her. "She had no idea what I was talking about when we were twelve but she got the idea when we were sixteen and I had my father's skimmer for the night. Though I didn't have jaunty walk or ruffled shirt."

Thank God for that. "So, all in all, it wasn't that bad then..." she concluded with a wink. "Not every man can say their mother helped them get laid in some way."

"Okay when you put it that way, it just sounds creepy." He made a face at her. "To tell the truth, my mom was one in a million but the stuff she wrote was drivel and every time someone realises who she was to me, I keep hearing about those damn books," he retorted and then stared at her, realising that he had just told her something he didn't tell most people at all.

"Well..." Skye ate a spoonful of yogurt. "Makes me glad I didn't bring it up. It's a small world. Can't say I've ever met another Stark before and your mother was, well, very well-known, even if her novels would never find a home on my shelf."

"Then we'll get along," Stark replied, grateful for that fact. "What about you? Always been a Shark?" he asked.

"Oh, no." She shook her head. "A bit of everything, more like. Went where people were needed." And that was the truth. "Can't say I've gone for a vocation... not like a medical doctor."

"Jack of all trades, huh?" Stark remarked, liking the sound of that. "So do you get bored easily or just like the challenge of trying something new?" he asked, pushing his plate away when he was done.

"A new challenge is interesting." She was driven, that was true, but too much of a perfectionist to get bored easily. "But it's not what made me move from one thing to the next. I mean I was a Political Science student when Earth went, so it wasn't like there was any future in that when we got here. I just tried to help any way I could. Helped build a database with Starfleet when we settled on Gaia so people could find their family more easily, or at least the fate of their loved ones... that led to the MACOs because there was a shortage of soldiers. I was like a war correspondent, in a way, photographer with a camera and a pulse rifle." She smiled, thinking fondly on those days. "Then there was Azati and Starfleet found themselves short on officers..."

He watched her talking and found that he liked the sound of her voice, which was different than most women, there was a hint of huskiness to it that made him think of the burn left behind by good scotch on its way down your throat. "My dad was a journalist too," Stark volunteered. "He could crawl up the ass of a story and get the facts no matter where they were." He fell silent for a moment, realising he hadn't thought of his dad in too long and felt a hint of guilt because he never connected with the man the way he should have.

"Too few of those," she found herself saying, pleasantly surprised to learn his father had shared the fever for the truth. "The ones that go after the facts rather than sensationalism." She spied a shadow in Stark's eyes, something familiar and she wondered if he missed the man or if it was more like her... missing the idea of a father. "You two were close?"

"Not as close as we should have been," he found himself admitting. "When I was six, I had a boating accident, almost drowned. I got close to the doctor who treated me, Hans. After that, it was all I ever wanted to do, be a doctor, but the more I wanted to be that, the more I drifted away from my dad. I mean, we had a good relationship but I was closer to Hans than I was to him."

Shit, when had this become true confessions? He didn't talk to Maxy about stuff like this.

Skye nodded, getting a clearer picture. "At least you had a relationship with him. None of them made it? Hans?"

"Hans made it," Stark replied, sadness creeping into his voice because he missed the old man, even now. "He and I were on Vulcan when Earth was destroyed. We shared a liking for the symphony and there was this Vulcan composer who was performing on Shi'Karr at the time. We stayed on Vulcan for awhile, I was through my third year of medical school before Starfleet Medical was finally built and I came here."

She didn't need him to tell her that Hans had since then passed away. That much was obvious. "I went to Shi'Karr once. I must have been eight or nine. The only family holiday I remember, and it wasn't even really a holiday. One of my parents was there for business." She couldn't remember which now. Frowning, she finished her breakfast in a couple of mouthfuls.

"Jesus," Stark sighed, sensing some disquiet in her because their discussion had strayed into some rather personal territory. "Listen to us, it feels like we're doing the twelve step program or something. Maybe we ought to make a rule at breakfast to keep it light so we don't depress ourselves," he joked.

Skye chuckled at that. "Not depressed. Just... it's just I hadn't thought about that in a while, to be honest." Thought about her parents, really. "I was never close to my family. I was raised by nannies and stuck in boarding schools. They were good folks, I heard. Politicians the both of them, advocates to civil liberties, helping make the world a better place." One of them had even scored a Nobel prize. They just weren't good parents. "But you're right; perhaps something lighter next time," she agreed, somewhat liking that he was thinking of sharing breakfast with her again.

"Yeah, we could discuss something fun, like the Holocaust," he quipped, giving her a little smile and then added with mischief. "Or you can tell me about what girls get up to in boarding school." He grinned.

She gave him a 'wouldn't you like to know' look. "Can't do that. That would be like betraying the sisterhood."

"I'll make it worth your while." He winked. "Free breast exams for the rest of your life." He smirked, reverting to type.

"Right..." She looked at him a little disbelieving, but then she was used to Marines' locker room humour. "And what exactly would be in it for me again?"

"I warm my hands before I start?" He looked at her with complete innocence. Christ, he was flirting like... like fucking Maxy.

Chuckling, Skye shook her head lightly. "Let me think on it. Still not sure of the benefits..." she teased, gathering her things.

Crap, they were late, weren't they?

"Well, can't blame a guy for trying," he said, draining his coffee because he had to go too. While outside, he was putting on his usual cocky face, inside Stark recognized the familiar stirrings, which had him panicking somewhat.

Remember, Tenny, two fucking divorces. Keep going this way and it's going to be three for three.

No fucking way, he told himself resolutely. All this is, is breakfast. That's all nice, interesting chats during breakfast.

"No, I can't." She flashed him a smile before she stood up. "Well, Stark, it's been nice. Again."

"Likewise, Lieutenant." He took in that smile and gave her one of his own, not the ones he gave when he was on the make but a real one. "Keep the hailing frequencies open."

What...the...fuck...was...that? He thought silently and decided to take his goofy ass to Sick Bay before he embarrassed himself any further.

Has she just managed to fluster the good doctor? She wondered as she walked ahead of him, giving him a sideways glance when she stopped to drop her tray and he passed by her. He was a funny man, she had meant that. And as she prepared to head for the Bridge, she tried to tell herself that the smile and the sparkle in his blue eyes weren't there for any other reason than the funny conversation they'd shared. Keep the hailing frequencies open indeed.

Stark nodded at her as he passed by on the way to the door, not looking back over his shoulder once he left her behind him. They were breakfast buddies, that's all. And yet all the way to Sick Bay, the phrase 'three for three' kept repeating in his head.

Fuck, this was going to be so bad....

******

Sitting in his office, the discomfort gnawing away in his gut did not go away. He went through the motions of the day, was actually quite pleasant to No.12 and did not once make her cry, wince, quiver or hyperventilate. Stark was confident that he was either a) going insane, b) hallucinating, or worse yet c) finally over Vera and possibly looking at the female population as more than something to waste 15 minutes on after you're done muff diving. None of these possibilities sat well with him and instead of returning to his quarters after work, he volunteered for a second shift, trading with Dawson who had a hot date with an ensign from Engineering who'd cover him in the morning.

Sitting at his desk, he swirled scotch around in his glass for a good ten minutes and didn't drink it.

"You going to drink that or ask it to marry you?" He'd been leaning in the doorway for a while now, watching Stark stare off into space for at least a minute. "They said you were pulling double shifts, which didn't make sense to me because you and I were going slumming tonight." Moving forward to plop himself down in the opposite chair, McCulloch gestured with an empty hand, "Where's my glass?"

Oh shit, Stark thought as he lifted his gaze and saw Maxy standing there, for Christ only knew how long. Like the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Stark tried to recover from sudden exposure.

"Here, here," he reached into the drawer and pulled out the second glass that had Max's name on it these days. "Uhm... sorry I can't go out tonight, I'm pulling an extra shift for Dawon. Seems he's going to take a tour of some ensign's warp chamber down in Engineering. Tomorrow's good though..." he stuttered a response.

"Stood up, yet again." Mason smirked and helped himself to a nice, big pour. "I thought you never drank on duty," not being on any current shift, McCulloch helped himself to a large mouthful of scotch.

Stark blinked. Fuck, he was right. He was drinking during shift. "Well, one drink isn't going to kill me," he shrugged, trying to focus, and wondered what the fuck was wrong with him. It was just fucking breakfast for Christ's sake, he told himself. "So how you doing? Need plaster of Paris to put red squadron back together again?" He asked, deflecting.

Mason rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Ha ha. Red and Gold took it pretty bad, I lost a lot of guys out there." Hell, Stark knew that because he tried to save at least two of them and saw numerous others. Since when did Stark make fun of the dead? Glancing at the scotch, he knew he was being a bit over sensitive about it, because he was a bit pissed overall at the outcome and loss, McCulloch shrugged it off. "If you have some spare mix in the back, I'll give it to Gordon tomorrow and see what he can do with it." Give it to Paulie. That was almost funny.

"Shit, I'm sorry," Stark apologised. "I'm in a weird headspace today. How are your guys doing anyway?" He knew most of them personally because of his association with Max. Some were even friends.

"Glad we won but the victory hardly outweighs the burial. They're professionals, the best of the best and they'll bounce back but it sucks in the interim." Mason had to admit, even the rookies were handling it well. Glancing around, he took another drink, "I can't believe you're blowing me off eh. I needed this tonight."

"I didn't blow you off," Stark apologised, feeling like crap but not about to tell Max why. After all the shit he had heaped on the guy about Chanah, the possibility that he might be sweet (very, very faint, almost infinitesimally small possibility) on a woman that did not let you eat fudge off her chest in the first ten minutes of your meeting, was more not something he was telling the guy. Hell no. "I just kind of forgot. Look I've got a lot on my mind..." he made a half assed stab at an excuse.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it." He'd seen to some crew from the blow hull portion of the NX and over a dozen fighter pilots. Unlike Stark, Mason didn't act like a Shark and go in for the kill upon smelling first blood. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, "What's the death toll up to today? I heard that engineer from Deck F wasn't supposed to make it through the night." In being best friends with Stark, Mason tended to hang around a lot with the medical folk, hearing stories and getting to know the cases about as well as Stark.

Glad that Max had changed the subject to something he could contribute more than frigging gibberish, Stark thought on Lt. Colosimo, who had been standing next to a plasma conduit when it went up. Suffering almost 80 percent burns to his body, it would have been merciful if he had died. However, dermal regeneration wasn't what it was a hundred years ago, technology allowed them to fix such damage but the memory of pain was timeless.

"I put him in a medically-induced coma," Stark answered. "Better than pumping him full of pain killers. It will be at least six weeks before the damage done to him is tolerable, another two before he can be taken out isolation. He'll make it, I'm just going to have to keep a close eye on him. You know what that's like," he gave Max a little smirk.

Nodding, Mason did know, and thought on Colosimo. "His whole body will be atrophied. Geeze," that was been the worst, trying to learn to walk again. At least the Lt. wouldn't have much memory or be in pain for his duration. "Let me know when he comes out of isolation, okay?"

"Sure," Stark nodded, glad that Colosimo would have Max looking out for him. The flyboy was good that way and Stark considered for a moment, about telling him about Jamieson.

Then he came to his senses.

~
\

[do]

USS ENTERPRISE
MESS HALL
13TH JUNE 2171

Thursday

He was pathetic. Just pathetic.

He didn't even have to be on duty this morning but for some reason, he found the need to wake up at a reasonable hour for a change (not hung over) to make an appearance at breakfast to make their usual breakfast date. Okay it was not a date, discussion, meeting, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it. The fact was Stark was here, drinking coffee, perusing a padd that had paperwork he would normally conduct in his office, looking nonchalant when in truth, he was hoping to run into one Lt. Jamieson again.

Of course, before he sat down, he had a heart to heart talk with himself (as you do), that this was just about having an engaging conversation with a person (not woman...person) that was a mature reasonable adult who was interesting to talk to. His usual conversation companion was Maxy and mature just didn't come into it when you were talking about a flyboy who still wore sunglasses inside a starship and had to be told when backing off was a good idea when it came to women.

Looking as if he were all business, Stark drank coffee, took obligatory bites of toast and read his reports.

Not waiting at all.

"Hey." Skye stood before Stark, quite happy with herself that she'd managed to get this far without him spotting her. Fresh out of the shower, she'd hit the gym first thing after getting up, her body clock finally getting used to being up at this hour, even with the overtime. Still damp hair pulled back in a ponytail, she felt energised and she hadn't even had coffee yet.

There was a lustre to her skin that came with her freshly showered self that made her look radiant, Stark thought as he eyed her while she sat, with her apple and water. He could almost smell the faint tinge of shampoo or whatever it was she used on herself. "Hey," he greeted. "You're not going on all healthy on me are you?" he teased, a little smile, eyes caressing her form as she sat.

"Fear not," she returned with a smile, producing a chocolate bar from her pocket. "Just felt like this first," she said, before biting into the apple in a healthy and juicy crunch.

Chuckling, he replied smoothly, "Thank Christ. My faith in you is restored. Can't have too many healthy people around, I'll have nothing to do but hang around and read. Just not too much chocolate though," he added, gesturing to the chocolate she was happily saving for later. "I hear Dr. Soo is a crap dentist."

"I have no idea," she said dismissively, not about to let anyone deter her from her love affair with sugar. "I always wait on Gaia for that kind of appointments." She took another bite before she had to wipe her chin, the juice from the apple trickling down it. Looking up at him with an apology in her eyes for her messy eating, she noticed he was sporting a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. "Not on duty this morning?" She almost felt disappointed, which was totally ludicrous since the man was sitting here anyway. And that only led to her wondering why exactly that was. "Not sleeping in?" God, she would if she was off...

"I had some work to do and some projects I need to get started this morning," Stark lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, just not the whole truth. "I wanted to get a head start on it," he shrugged, wanting to move past the why he was here because that could just end up being... well, embarrassing. He had enough of that for the last 24 hours, especially after he had blown off his plans with Max. Stark still felt like an asshole for that.

"Oh, okay." She eyed him for a moment, tempted to ask him if he was okay, before she returned to her apple. The man looked a little out of sorts. And it wasn't due to seeing him in casual clothes... because that, well, that wasn't bad at all.

He noted the way she looked at him. "Just worked two shifts last night, didn't get drunk like I wanted to so I'm a little... cranky," he admitted, trying to brush past the moment. "What about you? You been gyming this last week or was I just too out of it to notice?"

Cranky wasn't what she would have characterised him as. He'd been smiling easily enough earlier. "Double shifts can get to you. Been doing a lot of those." She was about to ask him about Ens. Evans but decided against it. They had agreed to talk about lighter stuff - Holocaust being the exception - and she figured talking shop wouldn't qualify as such. "First day I've managed to do it in the morning, to be honest. Been going before dinner this past week. Just couldn't roll out of bed early enough," she admitted with a shrug.

"Can't say I'm religious about it though I do callisthenics when I need to. Have to practise what I preach, right?" He met her gaze, finding the earlier unpleasantness about Maxy growing distant.

"Yes, you do. Sells the idea better. So, callisthenics? You mean like a fitness trail? Is the drinking to balance all that out?" she asked with a smirk.

Stark laughed. "Mayweather Trail. I got to know some Sharks while I was on the Livingstone, they recommended it. When I'm planet side, I try to do the run and when I'm drinking I engage in callisthenics... or rather a kind of callisthenics." He flashed her an impish smirk.

"Oh, I see." Skye chuckled, turning around to throw her apple core straight into a rubbish bin before facing him again and opening her bottle of water. "What do you do when you're stuck here then?" They were far from a real trail to go exercise along and that other thing, when you served aboard a starship, could bring on more trouble than it was worth.

"I take a run through the ship after hours," he replied. "It's quiet, not many people in the corridors and I can pass out from exhaustion without embarrassing myself." He grinned.

"I usually satisfy myself with the treadmill," she said, before she realised what he'd most likely choose to understand out of that. "I mean... aw, fuck it," she let out, chuckling.

"Hey, I didn't say a thing." He threw up his hands in surrender. "Of course, if I did...." He winked at her suggestively. "I'm sure it would have something to do with never do yourself what you can get someone to do with you."

Oh terrific, he sounded like one of those guys that got drinks thrown in their faces. Wait a minute, he was one of those guys...

"Or for you, right?" Skye nodded in understanding. "It's not a bad philosophy, I suppose."

"Got me over two marriages," Stark retorted with a straight face. "That and the alcohol and double jointed twins," he teased.

"Two marriages?" Skye asked rather dumbly, eyebrows to her hairline. "Sorry, I just... I had no idea." Never mind the double-jointed twins. She guessed she'd go for a couple of hot studs herself if she'd survived two marriages. "Your... wives, they passed away or...?"

Stark let out a breath, uncertain whether or not he wanted to reveal the whole sordid story that was Charlene and Vera. "No, they're alive, hanging upside down in caves somewhere," he joked and then added, "One's married to someone who has monogrammed handkerchiefs or something and the other..." He cleared his throat. "We had different priorities." It was simpler than the truth.

Skye nodded, a little embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. You just didn't-" She stopped herself suddenly. What was she going to say? That he didn't strike her as the marrying type? If he'd gone to the altar twice, he obviously was. "Once I dig myself a hole, I can't seem to help myself but digging in deeper," she said, the red reaching her cheeks.

"Trust me, it's no deeper than the one I dug myself into. I mean with Becky, she liked the idea of marrying a doctor for the whole Park Avenue practice thing. She just kind of forget that Park Avenue and the rest of Earth was blown up so many years ago." Stark shook his head. "After she worked out that I wasn't that kind of doctor, marriage with me grew old really fast."

"I'm sorry." What else could she say? She knew they wouldn't make his loss any less, these words, and as jaded as he might be, there was something about him that told her he did regret the failure of his two marriages, maybe even still loved his wives. "It took longer for some to let go of what life on Earth was like. Any kids?" Shit. There she was, prying again. She shook her head. "Don't pay any mind to me," she said sheepishly.

The one subject which was an open wound he hadn't dealt with. Fuck, the woman did know how to aim well. "It's okay, it's nothing I haven't told the bartender at the Outpost after a bottle of scotch. No kids," he replied after a moment, "which leads me to marriage No.2. She didn't want them... I did. So we went out separate and left it at that." She didn't need to know what Vera did. That was too personal, even for a woman he seemed to find talking to unbelievably easy.

"Oh." Skye seemed to deflate all of a sudden and she wasn't even sure why. It wasn't like they were dating, or that she was even considering him a prospect (though he was easy on the eye and he could actually string more than two words together). But wanting kids or not, that was a fundamental thing, and she didn't want any. "And I don't even have a drop of alcohol with me to offer you," she cracked, feeling the need to lighten things up a bit.

"It's okay." He shrugged, clearing his throat. "I'm over it... over the whole marriage, family thing. I think at this stage, I'll just stick to getting drunk and sleeping with hot twenty-year olds." He smirked, taking her lead to lighten the mood.

It was obviously not okay, and he was obviously not over any of it, but Skye refrained from pointing that out. She could have felt insulted by his new goal in life, but she'd been a Shark too long for that kind of talk to faze her and besides, it was clear it was his way of lashing out. By the sounds of things, he was entitled. "Twenty-year olds do offer some advantages."

"Well, they don't stick around in the morning, which is really useful," Stark retorted. "Besides, they never expect me to call, which works out well anyway since I'm not sure how I'm going to handle them sober." He smirked, unrepentantly.

Skye shook her head, grinning at his act. Not that she doubted he behaved that way, he probably did exactly that, but she could tell there was more to him than that. He'd just told her as much. "I was more thinking along the line of stamina," she returned smartly.

"They do, me... that's a different story," he admitted readily. "I give it another five years before I have to start thinking about adding another five years to the kind of women I want to...uhm date." Date, right? That's what it was. "The mind is willing, the flesh is going to have way too much mileage." He laughed.

A voice as awake as he was jovial cut through the air, "Good morning, Doc." Helping himself down to sit at their private table, McCulloch didn't think twice about the intrusion and greeted the Shark as well, "Morning, Lieutenant." A quizzical glance to Tennyson, "You're up bright an early for a late shift in your civvies." Interesting company Stark was chatting with this morning, Mason thought, and she wasn't bad on the eyes, that much was for sure.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

So engaged was he in talking to Jamieson that he hadn't even seen Maxy sneak up on him. Giving the man a look that was akin to deer caught in headlights, Stark struggled for response because the persona with Max was very different than the one he'd been sharing with Jamieson this past week. "Uhm...I had..stuff to do," he replied and then looked at Jamieson. "Didn't you say you had to go on duty?" He looked at her, hoping she'd go and then shot a look of warning at Maxy to behave.

Okaaaaaaay. McCulloch raised a brow, catching pretty much all of that from the stammering to the brush away of the Lt. to the death look that was clearly for him. Not sure what in the hell that was all about, he was more than game to find out and relaxed in his seat with no intention of 'going on duty' as Stark implied to Skye. "Gee, am I interrupting something?" A glance at both Jamieson and then to the good doctor, Mason figured one of them would give.

"Breakfast," Stark replied calmly. "We've just been running into each other in the mornings, right?" He looked at Jamieson, uncertain how to behave. If he went to type as he usually did with Maxy, he'd come across like the asshole he was trying not to be. "That's all," he looked at Maxy as a matter of factly.

"Okay," this was rather amusing. "Don't get your panties in a twist." A smile at Jamieson, "Sorry. Briefs."

"Commander," Skye greeted the Grifter with a nod when she got a chance, looking curiously between the two men. Stark had just managed an incredible one-eighty in behaviour and apparent state of mind at his friend's appearance that she wasn't sure what to think. Then again, if half of what she'd heard these two got up to on a night out was true then maybe the doctor was just nervous his friend the fighter pilot would get into it in front of her, just to tease him. So briefs or boxer shorts, she wondered...
Despite the fact Stark had actually pretty much ask her to leave, she was flattered in a way that he seemed to care enough to want to shield her from their shenanigans.

"Yes, we've been bumping into each at breakfast and yes, I was about leave for my shift soon." She gave Stark a teasing smile, giving him a hint that she could be cruel and stick around a little longer, see what kind of trouble McCulloch could try and land him in. After all, she still had her chocolate bar to eat.

"Yeah, you know Whelan," Stark cleared his throat, giving Maxy a look that hid nothing (he was sure), "The guy can be such a hard ass." He touched Jamieson's eyes briefly, trying to tell her that this wasn't what it looked like.

Oh, hell. He so wanted her out of there. She glanced at McCulloch before she looked back at Stark again. "He is?" she asked innocently.

"Well, he hates me," Stark declared and at least this part of it was actually true. "So his colon will probably twist if you tell him you're late because you're having breakfast with me." It would in fact be interesting to see what Whelan would say when he found out about them. Them? Since when was there a them?

"I've never known Whelan to be such a bad guy," as if on cue, Maxy jumped right in and flashed a welcoming smile at Jamieson. "Surely he won't mind if you're a few minutes late because a few fellow officers kept you behind." Loving Tennyson's discomfort, knowing he owed the man ten-fold for more times than he could keep track of, McCulloch added, "Tell him we're talking shop. Strategy. I'll vouch for it."

Shooting daggers at Maxy, Stark tried to maintain his composure and resist the urge to kick the guy under the table. Unfortunately, he could do none of these things while Jamieson was present. "Yeah," he tried not to sound sarcastic as he said it. "Strategy." Whelan will buy that, he almost snorted.

"Hey! Why not? You don't think the Lieutenant here is capable of talking flight strategy?" Ignoring Tennyson, Maxy turned and leaned forward and gestured to Skye, "Lieutenant, tell me. What are your thoughts on the recent execution strategy that the NX Gryphons took against the Jem'Hadar? If you're not familiar with it, I can give you a high level walk through." Hell but this was fun.

The next time you need surgery, I am going to debone you like a fish, Stark thought as Maxy tossed that question at Jamieson and wished the deck would open up and swallow up the pilot into the unknown from whence he came. "She doesn't need it.." he stuttered, giving Jamieson the look of a man drowning helplessly. "I mean I'm sure you don't need to be taken through it... you're a bridge officer after all..."

It was official, this was hell.

"Well, yes, but I can't say I know much of Gryphon fighter strategy," Skye admitted, amused by Stark's reaction. She recognised what Mason was doing, and God knew his reputation preceded him. The doctor shouldn't be so worried. By sticking around, Skye had an idea of what she might be in for. Her eyes went from Stark to his smarmy friend. "Shark strategy, yes. I could tell you more about the tactics Colonel Riley took against the Jem'Hadar boarding us. Though I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to offer high level walkthroughs at this time."

"Naturally," McCulloch agreed, "and contrary to popular belief, every now and then, behind closed officer meeting doors, I am made privy to a bit more than Sky Head stuff." Tennyson might as well have been a decoration sitting next to him, for all Maxy paid attention to the man now. If he looked at his friend, he was going to lose it completely. "But a good point is made, you have privilege to a lot of information, so let's talk a little more in depth about the Grifters in the Dominion fight." Unable to help himself, as was his way, the CO lifted his hands and began to gesture a bit of the re-enactment. "We all know the goal, between Gaia and the NX. We took the confuse and divide them approach at first, based on our limited company numbers of two dozen, but they kept coming like fucking gnats, taking us out one by one."

Very into his work, very animated, McCulloch talked through his strategic viewpoint of the entire scene in under a minute, not dragging the explanation out for, as Stark pointed out, Jamieson had front row seats on the bridge. Still ignoring what he could only imagine to be a stewing or steaming doctor next to him, Maxy knew he'd have to avoid sickbay for a while. At least, that is, if he was truly sick. The daily visits for verbal sparring would only increase now.

Okay, okay, Stark told himself to calm down. Maxy wasn't giving the highlights of their last orgy so that was at least a good thing. Jamieson seemed to be handling it okay. It still didn't stop Stark from wanting to drag Max out of there but it wasn't as bad as he had imagined. Yet.

She seemed to be handling it alright. If anything, she was handling it better than him, which only heightened his regard for her another notch, though he wasn't about to let Max see that. As it was, he was going to be hearing about this for the next millennium. Max was going to have a field day with the cantankerous Dr. Stark being sweet on someone.

Skye patiently listened as the Commander told his tale, politely nodding where needed, though most of her attention was still on Stark. Not that Mason wasn't a decent raconteur, in fact, he surprisingly was, but he wasn't the man intriguing her here nor the one who had her starting to make sure she didn't miss breakfast in the morning. Extending a leg underneath the table, she nudged Stark's shoe gently, trying to shake him out of his annoyed and rather morose state.

The sudden contact made him jump out of his seat almost because he had been so on edge. "What?" he near barked as he jumped up.

Another wave of Jem'Hadar could have materialised in the middle of the mess, opening fire in the next moment, and Skye wouldn't have jumped as much. But Stark's sudden move to her gentle prod made her pull back sharply, knocking her bottle of water as she did so. "Shit, sorry," she let out as she quickly picked it up, the other hand reaching for the napkins on Stark's tray.

Mortified and ready to die of embarrassment right there and then, Stark sat up, fumbling at the used napkin next to his fork as he tried to clean up this mess. "I'm sorry," he stuttered. "I...I...." he winced at then threw Max a look that warned death if the man came up with a smart ass comment.

"It's nothing." Skye gave him a small smile in apology before she snatched the napkin and wiped the spilled water. The glance she gave Mason was equally daring though she expected him to pay no heed.

Oh, this is just too rich. Too, fucking rich. He was in a great mood, flashed his famous toothpaste ad smile at Stark that not only expressed how much he was enjoying this and Stark's fucking stutter, but the whole lovable scene that was being played out for him. Almost better than a certain holovid. As sarcastically as he could make it, Mason took the wad off his tray and leaned forward, offering to either one of them at this point. She was a mess. Stark was a mess. If McCulloch was a really great friend, he'd get up and leave to leave them to their little cute ass courting.

Stark had never instilled that type of friendship in Maxy. It was out of the question. "Awww... can I help you, guys?" He split the napkin wad in two. "Here you go." Two hands were extended and while he was polite to Jamieson (she never got him drunk on Christmas Eve and left him half naked dumped out on his parent's lawn), he saved the gleam in his eye and cruel smile for the dear old Tenny. "Here ya go, Doc."

"Thank you," Skye replied, accepting the napkins and feeling all the piss-take that was bubbling below the surface of one Mason McCulloch. Damn, she should have taken the hint from Stark right at the start and left the pair of them alone.

This wasn't fucking happening, Stark told himself and resisted the urge to deck Maxy just to get rid of that shit eating grin the pilot was wearing on his face right now. Tearing his glare away from his so called best friend, Stark turned to Skye and gave her a look of apology. "Uhm, look, flyboy and I'll take care of this," he finally managed to string some words together to not sound like a complete asshole. "You better get going to duty. I'll see you....." he hesitated saying tomorrow because that might give Maxy a reason to join them. "Uhm later."

"Right." Still partly amused by all this, Skye had to school her features and hide that little smile away, but she no longer fought Stark's wishes. He wanted her gone and she guessed he knew best. Standing up, she grabbed her bottle and chocolate bar. "Commander, Stark." She nodded to them both before walking away.

"An extreme pleasure to meet you, up close and personal, Lieutenant." And oh, the pleasure was all his. Sincerely.

"See you, Jamieson," Stark said, meeting her gaze, ignoring Max for right now. All he wanted to do was explain himself but there was really no chance of doing that with Max present. Conflicted, embarrassed and just generally put out, Stark didn't know what else to say as he watched her walk away.

It took all he could manage to again, not burst out in hysterical laughter. Watching Jamieson go, and Stark standing there with his thumb up his ass, Mason broke the unique gaze of concentration that appeared to be happening between the other man's ears. "You know, Doc, you still have one dry napkin left in your hand." He lifted his fingers and gestured to his own face, "If you want to, eh, use it to wipe your chin."

"Not a word," Stark said once Jamieson was gone from the table, grateful that she was gone because he was in an uncertain place. A pre-Maxy place, which he hadn't been in since before he walked out on Vera.

Hands up, Mason simply pretended to have no clue what his best friend was talking about, although the smirk was far from hidden. Instead, he ate the rest of his food, dying inside and trying to keep a straight face. A monumental task under these conditions.

The look in the man's face was infuriating and Stark supposed in the universal scheme of things, particularly where karma was concerned, he might have this coming. "Alright, out with it. Just get it out of your system..."

Another silent look but this time coupled by the raising of eyebrows as if he was deciding or making up his mind of the consequences. Or simply prolonging the inevitable, which was sometimes far more torturous fun.

"Hey, your window of opportunity to get any mileage out of this is narrowing because I hear it now, or you zip it FOREVER. Got me?" No, he was not defensive at all.

That was enough to cause McCulloch to crack up, "Hardly," he protested. "I'm still far behind on the whole point for point scale and have a ton of mileage I plan on taking when I feel like it." Oh he had Stark's number all right. Right were he wanted the good doctor. "In my own sweet time."

"You are just loving this, aren't you?" Stark made a face at the man. "Look, we're just friends, we have breakfast in the mornings. That's it. Really." Bullshit, he thought instinctively.

As if he could read minds, Mason cornered, "Bullshit. I don't know what the hell that was all about, but don't throw me the just friends line as if I'm some second rate crew member. Sheesh," he shook his head, "You were about to have to perform recovery on your own heart attack when I sat down." Jerking a thumb to the empty spot across the way, the pilot added, "And that was pretty unglued, Doc. I mean, come on. I've seen you unglued and I've seen you unglued. That was waaaaay unglued." Yep, I'm milking this for all I can. "You were borderline pathetic."

"Fuck you," Stark retorted, "I was handling it fine until you came along," he grumbled but it was true, he recovered like crap when Maxy showed up. "And we're just friends...although...oh, screw it, it's insane."

It wasn't long before the eye roll came out and that was preceded by the laughing. "See?" This was so nice to watch after being the butt end of Stark's jokes over the years, mostly in the last twelve months. He imitated, "Shu.. shu... shut up, Maxy. Fuck, no, wait, I mean, screw, no. I like... I don't like... No. Yes. Fuck you."

"I was not that bad," Stark said through gritted teeth. Actually he was but may he be dragged over Perdition's flames before he admitted to it. "It's nothing like that, we talk at breakfast, that's all it is." He tried to convince Maxy and failed miserably, he was sure.

"Sure, Doc, sure." He finished his meal and was still laughing, for the more Tennyson protested, the more right he was. "At least you blew me off all this past week for a good reason." There was going to be no end for the mileage he was going to take liberty on. "I mean, if it's nothing like that, and you really don't care, then you should let me ask her out." Sly and calculated, it was a poker move to get the other to fold. A trick he learned long ago and used only when needed with wanton care.

Stark stiffened involuntarily. Shit. He cursed himself inwardly. This was it, wasn't it? He was screwed. Third time's the charm. "She's not your type," he replied and braced for impact at the inevitable response.

The counter move was crude on purpose. "She has a vagina?"

"Yeah, it looks like yours," Stark growled. "Okay, mea culpa. I like her, alright? She's smart and beautiful and most importantly, has no idea who the fuck Persimmon is." It would surprise many how highly Stark valued that particular trait.

And we have a winn-naaaah! The pilot's body was tensed, ready to leap back or out of the way of any physical strikes the doctor might deliver (Mason had been, after all, punched by Stark in the past). Nothing came. Wuss. Quite proud of himself, at how easy this was, he simply smiled all toothy grinned at Tennyson and shook his head, not believing his eyes or ears. "Good for you, Stark," he was genuinely happy for his friend. "Good on you."

Still, that didn't mean Mason wasn't going to get his fair share of fun digs over time. Best not to blow his load all at once. "She seems very nice." And attractive but he left that out for his buddy. For now.

"Yeah, well, they all seem nice in the beginning," Stark retorted with a shrug, able to unload some insecurities now that Maxy was in on it. "But I don't know...." he said uncertainly. "I keep thinking if I want to court the possibility for making it three for three, you know?"

"Congratulations," Maxy looked sincere and patted Tennyson light on the back, "Wow. I hadn't realized you two were engaged." It felt good to be able to say the word and not want to puke, easier when it was someone else. "What the hell, you decide you might like a girl and already put one foot in the grave? Seriously eh, is that how you go?" He'd never seen Stark in full action of falling for real over a woman. Just the aftermath when he met Charlene. Charlene. A shiver at the memory of kiss and touch went through Mason's spine. That was a black widow enchanter if there ever was one.

"Ah, fuck you," he growled, knowing he was being ridiculous, especially after he had got through insisting that this was just about breakfast. "And no, it's not how I go. After being married to Charlene and Vera, I figured the best thing to do with women is to not get into the whole dating thing because orgies have been working pretty good for me... or rather us. You go down this road with them and it's a whole can of worms."

There was no arguing that, "Yeah..." Mason guessed he probably wasn't the best person to give any advice on the M-word, dating and the dreaded C-word. "Take it one day at a time?" Somewhere it clicked that this might mean he would be potentially without a wingman down on Gaia or on shore leave, but like most things, McCulloch pushed that aside until he really had to deal with it.

Sound advice. Even good advice if he wasn't so fucking terrified. "I suppose," he muttered like a kid that had been told that it wasn't a good idea to tie lit matches to the end of the cat's tail (even if it was fun). "Hey, for all I know, she's heard about my reputation and probably doesn't even want to..." he had to physically force himself to say it, "date me."

Hearing that word come out of his partner in crime's mouth was like hearing a ship's hull began to stress break in battle. McCulloch cringed. "You never know..." He was reminded of something, "Maybe she full well knows but... I dunnae. Wants to get to know you anyway." This timing couldn't have been worse. Mason shook it off, "I don't know, Doc," his voice kind, "I really don't know... just try it, I guess. What have you got to lose that we probably haven't already done?"

A whole hell fucking lot. Mason twirled the unused spoon around on his tray, looking at Tennyson.

"My dignity," Stark retorted. "What's left of it that wasn't destroyed the last time we tried taking on those triplets loaded on mojitos," he deadpanned. "Maybe....I'll ask her out. See how it goes."

"You're assuming we even had dignity that night," the memory left him shivering. The mojitos. He shouldn't have tried to be cute and drink what they drank. That was mistake numero uno grande no mas no mas. Thinking back, McCulloch grinned, "Even before then, you didn't have dignity... not like you cared much on anything." Until now. He knew it when he saw it and sad to see, Stark was trying to find some dignity within himself. Almost made a grown pilot cry.

"Nothing much to care about really," Stark admitted unafraid to confess that point. "I mean haven't felt so inclined and this thing with Jamieson, we just started talking and now here I am," he rolled his eyes. "About to do something that could be stupider than the last time I thought marriage was a good idea."

McCulloch wasn't clear how anything of that magnitude could be topped. "Worse than asking Vera to marry you?"

"That I want to do this again, the whole dating thing." Stark deadpanned. "Everything tells me this is a bad idea and somehow, I know I'm going to do it anyway."

"Then quit bitching about and just do it." The statement wasn't made with malicious intent, impatience or harping. A taunt and challenge for McCulloch could tell this is what the doctor wanted, he simply needed some incentive (and who better to offer than the air boy pilot?). "You can sit here and worry all sorts of shared till Tuesday, but if you're going to do it, then toss caution to the wind, stop worrying like some catholic alter boy and find your balls."

It was as good as a shove forward as Mason could offer, although in the end, he couldn't make Stark to do it. No more than Tennyson ever forced him.

Stark made a face at Maxy, wincing at the use of the term 'catholic altar boy' and 'balls' in the same sentence. "Alright, alright, I'll ask her." Though in agreeing to do that, opened up a whole set of different problems like where they'd go on any such 'date'.

Glad for that, Maxy patted Stark on the back, "There ya go. You'll thank me after you get laid."

Stark stiffened because this wasn't about getting laid and just that statement crossing his mind was proof enough that this business with Jamieson could be serious. If he wanted to get laid, it was easy enough to do. He knew scores of women for whom he could get an itch scratched. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'd be happy if I can make it through the date without getting a drink thrown in my face."

Yep, he's got it bad. McCulloch mere smiled and nodded, satisfied so far with all the reactions he got out of the Doc. More information was given and revealed by the reactions and that amused Maxy to no end. "Taking her for drinks then? She'll probably say yes."

"No, nothing like that," Stark shrugged and surprised himself by the fact that he actually had an idea of what he might have planned for the evening. "She used to play classical music and there's a concert in Gaia next week...I figure I'd ask her to that." He braced himself for the inevitable reaction.

"Really?" He was a little impressed by that, "That's pretty cool." While he might rag and pick and poke on Stark and his classical music piano playing, he could tell the Doc was uncomfortable with all this and decided not to be an asshole like Tennyson. At the smell of first blood, Stark went for Mason's jugular and when he felt at his most vulnerable, his friend attacked. Maxy knew what it was like and couldn't bring himself to do it. There was enough delivered for now.

"When next week?"

"Yeah, owing some catastrophe not taking place in the universe that requires our immediate attention." Stark replied, sensing that Maxy was holding back because he was expecting a lot of crap after giving it so prodigiously but then Stark had never in a million years, figured he'd be in this position again.

Thoughts were running through his head and McCulloch came up with a pretty funny plan, if he was feeling particularly mean when the night came. He didn't get the day from Stark but it would be easy enough to look up. A search on 'boring musical interludes' should do the trick. "I'm sure it'll go along just fine." Oh ye of little faith.

Stark stared at Maxy for a moment, eyes narrowing in scrutiny. "Yeah, just fine." That 'just fine' made him nervous.

Two single wiggles of his brow, he stood and lifted his tray, leaving Stark stew over that.

Let the games begin.

~

[do]

USS ENTERPRISE
MESS HALL
14 JUNE 2171

Friday

She was late.

He'd been waiting for a while now and noted that it was well past the time she usually showed up. After yesterday and the encounter with Max, Stark wondered if she was soured on the whole business of breakfast with him. Not that he blamed Max for anything but there seemed to be an undercurrent of something between them that neither had discussed, hell even entertained really. So far it had been innocent until Max appeared and made him consider that there was something happening between them that was more than just a casual friendship.

This led Stark to the uncomfortable place he was in right now.

Not knowing what the hell he wanted. On Monday, things had been simple. He revelled in the debauch and while he wasn't about to say that meeting Jamieson was a game changer, he couldn't deny that he was interested in a way he hadn't been interested in a woman since Vera. The question was what now? Did he wanted to dive in? He had no idea how she felt about him and the truth of it was, Stark wasn't all that eager to change his lifestyle. It had been simple, less possibility of getting hurt.

Of course, if he hadn't been interested he wouldn't have found himself here in the mess every morning for the last five days, waiting for her to show up. Nor would he have considered where they'd go on their first date, even to the point of checking when there would be a classical music concert they could attend together. No, no, he wasn't interested at all.

Sometimes, being a grown up could be goddamn frustrating.

Another five minutes ticked by and she was still a no show. Contemplating going and getting drunk if this was the end of the road, Stark was in a filthy mood when he heard his communicator come alive.

"Doctor Stark, we have a medical emergency, we need you in Sick Bay immediately."

Well, if he couldn't have a drink, then work would do just as well.

"I'm on my way," he said finally, casting a final look around the place, hoping perhaps she would make a last minute appearance.

She didn't.

*******

Skye was leading a procession, or so it was how it felt. From Engineering to Sickbay, a bunch of medico personnel were following her, their attention mostly on the engineer sprawled on the stretcher between them, while every so often, a nurse would make sure she was still in a state to walk, still with it enough to remember where they were headed.

The double doors adorned with a caduceus were soon in sight, thank God, and Skye found herself nearly tripping over her own shadow when they parted and the much brighter lighting inside poured out.

Still stunned, probably more so now that shock was setting in, she was surprised to see Dr. Stark when she walked in. Shouldn't he be at breakfast? She knew that it was where she should have been herself, and she would have, had she not been awakened and called in to work the night shift. It probably would have hurt a lot less too.

"Hey," she said simply, planting herself in front of him.

Stark had been in a sour mood, sending No. 12 running for cover when the doors slid open and lo and behold there was the emergency being led by none other than Lieutenant Jamieson herself. Suddenly, he felt like a complete dip shit for being so pissy at her absence when it looked like she had a really good reason for it.

"What's happened?" His emotional issues were quickly brushed aside as he saw the group of med techs coming in with their patient. Suddenly, Dr. Stark the consummate professional made his first appearance.

"We were working on the comms console down in Engineering and..." Skye paused, distracted by all the people moving around and past her, looking at Lt. Murray as he was moved to a biobed without ceremony, before she remembered she'd been talking to someone. "The uhm... the thing shorted."

Stark was already pushing past the others to reach the lieutenant on the bed. The burns were easily taken care of but the lesser known side effects of such a thing happening was electrocution. Synapses were fried and the heart went into arrest. The patient was groaning in pain and as Stark examined the readings, determining what was what before he hollered at his staff.

"He's going to cardiac arrest," he told the young doctor named Dawson, who had only recently come onboard, fresh out of residency. "We need to stabilize his vitals before we can treat the burns. Give him 50 ccs of codrazine, we need to resuscitate his heart. No pain killers until after that's done."

Skye moved aside, or was gently shuffled so, her eyes riveted to the biobed and the man on it. Christ, Ned, she thought. They'd just been joking around after already having already spent three hours trying to untangle this thing when, stuck halfway in the belly of the controls, he'd asked her to activate a specific series of commands. All she remembered now was a flash of white light and the smell. The burning smell of flesh. As she stood back, letting the med team work, she cradled her right hand and forearm, but she was long past feeling pain.

A nurse hurried forward with a hypo spray and Stark grabbed it out of her hand before he depressed the thing against Murray's neck, allowing the drug to kick start the man's hearts. Codrazine, a Vulcan concoction, did away the need for defibrillator machines. Lifting his eyes to the bio screen, he saw the Murray's vitals slowly returning to some semblance of normal.

"Make sure there's no clotting, administer some blood thinners, we don't want the heart working any harder than it has to," he instructed and stepped back. "Dr. Dawson, you can take it from here," Stark replied and nodded at the younger man before he shifted his attention back to Jamieson, who was clutching her arm.

"Let me see," he said, gesturing her to one of the free beds as he allowed Dawson to take point. The young man could handle the rest and Stark had to give him the opportunity to gain more practical experience. The immediate danger to Murray had been taken care of, now it required Dawson to treat the burns, which the kid was more than adept at.

Skye pried her gaze off Ned Murray and looked at Stark belatedly, eyes blinking. "Oh." She glanced down at her burned hand and swayed a little before she moved forward, going for one of the beds. "You're going to be able to fix it, right?" She'd had a steady hand before this, steady enough for a sniper rifle. She hadn't planned on losing that when she switched to a damn Comms desk.

"Good as new," he replied, taking her hand and realising that it was the first time they'd actually made any physical contact. He ignored that bit of sentimental nonsense or the fact that where her arm wasn't burnt, her skin was soft and silky. She had a dusky tinge to her skin that almost made her look exotic... stop that, Stark pulled himself up.

"Not quite third degree burns," he said very business-like, "but deep enough to hurt like a son of a bitch, I'm guessing."

From behind him, he heard one of the nurses tsking in disapproval. "Sorry, Prudence, I'll try not to make her faint."

No.12 glared at him a moment before going back to work, helping Dr. Dawson.

"Doubt you could make me," Skye found herself saying with a tight smile, while the pain he spoke of seemed to only be a distant discomfort.

"Don't challenge me." He gave her a little smile as he moved to the instrument table and picked up a hypo spray before he retrieved the appropriate vial from the cabinet nearby. Returning to her, Stark took her hand again, turning her palm gently upwards before pressing the hypo spray against her smooth skin. "That should take the edge of the pain off while I use the dermal regenerator."

"I can't feel it." He kept talking about this pain but it was hardly registering. She looked at him, her eyes searching his, now worried that it meant something in itself. She could feel his hand on her but not the pain.

"Your pain receptors are probably in shock, not to mention all that adrenaline," he explained. "Don't knock it. When it wears off, dermal regenerator or not, you're going to feel the effects of it. The body can be tricked by medicines only so much." Stark used his soothing physician tone, not only because he didn't want to worry her but being his patient meant he had to be doubly professional.

"I see." And she should have thought about it. She knew this from her combat training but on some level her brain wasn't operating on all cylinders either. As he started to work on blistered and charred skin, Skye swallowed and looked away, fixing her gaze on his face instead, what she could see of it as he looked down. "Sorry, I missed breakfast. Got called in for the graveyard shift and..." Well, that happened.

"Yeah." He lifted his eyes to hers, blue eyes brushing her face before he went back to work, running the dermal regenerator against her skin to fuse burnt flesh. "I get the idea. I kind of thought meeting Max would have sent you running for the hills."

"McCulloch?" She grinned a little at that. "Well, not my first run in with the man, but I guess it was the first time I was on the receiving end of his..." Hell, she had no idea what to call what the man had served her and his supposed friend the day before, and it wasn't due to the painkillers. She shrugged. "But Sharks, remember? We don't scare easily."

"I forgot," he answered, continuing to work, a little smile of pleasure on his lips at hearing that. "Suppose Sharks are too tough to appreciate classical music," he said, not meeting her eyes, keeping his expression neutral.

The question took her by surprise. "I guess I'm not all Shark..." she replied, wondering why she was admitting any of this. "I play the cello... well, played." And that made her look at her hand again and it struck her that she had buried anything to do with her parents so deep that her first concern upon seeing the injury had been whether or not she could still kill with a rifle rather than if she would still be able to take a bow to a set of strings.

"Well, you'll still be able to play if you're worried about your hand," Stark answered. "I play the piano myself," he volunteered, watching the skin mend itself under the beam of the regenerator. "There's a concert on Gaia next week, we should be getting back by then. Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto... if you want to go."

He was actually doing this, Stark thought to himself. He was actually asking her out on a date.

Another surprise but this one much sweeter in a way. "I..." She leaned in close a little and, in a mock conspiratorial whisper, said, "What is your friend Max going to say to that?"

"Oh, nothing I'm going to repeat here," he retorted. "Besides, I have some payback coming to me so I'm going to take my medicine."

Skye pulled back at that, quirking an eyebrow. "So, I see the ribbing goes both ways?" She smiled, wondering who McCulloch was sweet on. From what she had heard, it was pretty much anyone with the right plumbing. "I'd love to," she finally answered his invite. "And it's not so much if I'll be able to play again. It's more the fact it's been years since I have. So, you play the piano, huh?" Having already noticed his hands, his graceful and long fingers back in the mess hall, she had no problem believing that he did.

Breaking into a grin at her acceptance of his invite, Stark straightened up to note that a number of his staff were staring at him in surprise. "Hello?" he snapped. "Sick patient? Get to it!" he barked and shook his head, snapping at them with the proverbial whip before turning back to Jamieson. "Yeah, Hans taught me how to play when I was a kid. There were two things I got from him, this is the second."

"The first is your love of medicine?" she asked, trying not to smile at his sudden outburst on his staff. She was beginning to have an inkling as to why Cecilia had asked for a transfer.

"Pretty much," he nodded. "Never wanted to do anything else," he replied, putting down the dermal generator back on the instrument table and taking her hand gently by the wrist to run his fingers along the newly grown skin. "It will be a little tender for a few days," he explained as his fingertips moved up her wrist to the length of her arm. "So you're going to have to take it easy for the next seventy-two hours."

Skye had been in a near trance watching his hand caress her skin. Luckily, what he said next pulled her right out of it. "Seventy-two hours?" she groaned. "We're short-staffed as it is..."

"That may be but I'm not playing it safe, the regeneration process has to take and you need to rest the hand." His expression was serious and once again he was the doctor, not the breakfast companion. "I'm not joking."

"Okay, okay." She gave him a look. "Does that mean no work at all or light duties?" she risked asking, a small smile pulling at her lips. "Look, I'm off now for the next eight hours anyway..." And her damn schedule would be rejiggled again. What if she found herself off the morning shift once more? She'd actually liked starting her day off with him...

Stark gave her a look and found himself caving a little. This is how it started, wasn't it? Him giving an inch and the next thing he'd know, he'd completely fold like a house of cards. No fucking way. "Alright," he said finally, "no work for the next twenty-four and light duties for the forty-eight hours after. Can you live with that?"

"I can," she said, amused by the expression on his face while at the same time she tried to tame her smirk of triumph before he changed his mind. "Just trying to remain available for next week," she said in a conciliatory effort before she tried moving her hand and bending her fingers. Wincing a little at the discomfort, she stopped before she slid down to her feet. "Is that all, Doctor?"

"That's what happens when you don't listen to your doctor," he teased. "Go get some rest, don't use the hand," he said gently. "I'll bring you breakfast tomorrow." He smiled.

"You will?" Okay, she probably shouldn't like the idea so damn much. "I actually should go get something to eat now but I'll make sure I can handle it with my left hand..."

"I'll give you a hand," he smirked and then added, "No pun intended of course. I wasn't on duty anyway and I'd prefer that you rest the hand as much as possible. I'm sure that Dawson can handle things here now, can't you, Dawson?" He glanced at the young doctor, attending to Lt. Murray.

"Yes, Doctor," Dawson nodded, the only one who was oblivious to what was going on with Dr. Stark and the lieutenant. Everyone else, seemed to be gawking like they were watching a movie. Nudging one of his nurses, he retorted, "We'll take care of him."

"Good," Stark said pleasantly, pleased with Dawson's ability to maintain focus and giving the rest of his staff a dark look of menace before he returned his attention to Jamieson. "Shall we?" He gestured to the door, ladies first.

Skye tried not to notice that his staff was once again staring at him with mouths gaping open and nodded. "Sure."

Stark caught Jamieson trying to ignore his med team, knowing perfectly well why they were staring and caring little for it. It was a well known fact that the kind of women that Dr. Stark kept company with own in the Outpost, were the kind that found doing jello shots off their bare bellies or butt cheeks a good way to spend the evening.

They'd never seen him with a grown up woman before.

For Stark, it was a first in a long time too.

END