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Characters: Oliver Day (

oliverplus) and OPEN
Location: Your reality!
Time: After Oliver's fairytale has ended, and during or after yours, as you prefer
Summary: Oliver goes on an involuntary reality-hopping tour of the multiverse~
Warnings: Oliver is a geek, and depending on your reality, he might just show it. Possibly a lot.

Tag in if you'd like Oliver to visit you! Prose-style or action tags are fine; just tag in the way you feel like playing.

"Samwise! Don't go under there!"

Oliver had learned a long time ago that "getting lost" and "going somewhere in the TARDIS" were basically synonymous, so he'd long since given up on getting annoyed when it happened. Instead, he usually just looked at it as another adventure to conquer--plus, you never knew what sort of cool things you might find in the meantime. And that was all well and good when he was alone, but this time he'd made the mistake of bringing one of his pets along. Watching a dwarf rabbit run off to be lost in the TARDIS was not the sort of adventure he'd had in mind for today.

He crouched down by the random large machine that was sitting by one of the walls of a room that otherwise appeared to be some sort of study. Aside from the hulking metal contraption, the room was lined with comfortable sofas and armchairs, the lighting coming from lamps on sidetables. Fancy rugs were scattered about on the polished wooden floor, although the area around the machine was bare aside from some telltale scuff marks. And while the space underneath the machine was large enough for a rabbit to fit, Oliver doubted he could even get one of his hands in there. "Come on, come out! I'll get you some nice greens?"

As he leaned down to look under the machine, he just caught sight of a furry ball shooting out and across the room. "Samwise!" He jumped to his feet, realising now that he'd been so intent on the rabbit that he hadn't even thought to close the door to the study when he came in. And, of course, he pet was making straight for it. Oliver ran after him, hoping to grab the door and shut it before Samwise could reach it and disappear into the corridor. It was going to be a close thing. He grabbed at the side of the door--

--and missed. Oliver skidded to a stop, almost falling over in his surprise. Because it was immediately apparent that he hadn't simply missed in his grab--the door wasn't there anymore. The study wasn't either, nor was the familiar hum of the TARDIS.

"What...?" Oliver breathed, looking around him in confusion. "Where am I?"

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Oliver nodded, grateful for her confident sentiment. "And I'll get to see more of the ship," he said, trying to bring back his previous excitement at the prospect. He took another deep breath, reminding himself that he was just visiting and it wasn't like he was in hospital again. This was just another trip, not another disaster. And he was with Christine, who had already saved his life once, so everything was going to be okay.

As they entered the medbay, Oliver dropped behind her, letting Christine take the lead.

Christine led him through the main area, where biobeds sat in a circular pattern, wall screens above them ready to take a patient's vitals as soon as they laid down. But no one was currently a patient there. She headed over to a computer console and signed in, looking a little tense. She relaxed, however, when the computer indicated that she wasn't late to her shift. Looking around, she made sure no one was about to see that Oliver wasn't signing in himself, and once she was sure, she nodded in one direction.

"We'll go down here to the supply closet and I'll set you up with a cart and bedding. Then we'll go the the empty recovery rooms and I'll show you the ropes, ok?"

Oliver watched as Christine used the computer terminal, waiting for her to signal if he needed to do anything. She looked nervous, and that wasn't a good sign, but thankfully her relief when she finished was obvious enough even when he wasn't looking her in the eyes.

Trying to swallow his own nervousness, he nodded. "Yeah, okay. I can make a bed." Not that he did so very often, but it wasn't exactly the sort of skill one tended to forget. Chloe would be proud of him, really--and she would never let him live it down. He'd have to save this story for when he was old and infirm, he decided. The thought almost made him want to laugh, but his stomach was too full of butterflies for that.

"So um...what else can you tell me about the ship?" Admittedly, the question was as much to distract him from the very clinical smell of this area as it was out of his own curiosity. But he had a feeling that going through with this would be a lot easier if he and Christine could keep talking for now.

She led him towards the supply closet, trying to put him at ease. "Of course you can."

That wasn't to say she wasn't nervous about this whole thing herself, but as long as he stayed out of the way, everything would be fine.

"Well, as far as the more technical aspects, I'm no engineer. I can tell you the ship is Starfleet's flagship, Constitution-class, with a warp core so we can go faster than light speed. Beyond that, what would you like to know?"

They were at the closet now, and she rolled out a cart, loading it up with blankets and pillows.

He was definitely not planning to get in the way if he could avoid it, especially in a medbay. But instead of thinking about that, he focused in on her explanation about the ship, even if not all of it really made sense to him.

He'd seen impressive space travel while living in the Earth Empire, but Christine's world of venturing into the frontiers of space somehow struck him as more amazing--perhaps because he wasn't seeing a dirty, backwater frontier world full of war refugees. "Faster than light speed--fantastic! Have you been to any neat worlds lately? Or is there somewhere specific you're going?" He took hold of one end of the cart, ready to push it when she was done loading it.

"There was a world where nearly everything was built out of crystal. I didn't get to see it, but the away team said it was beautiful." Finishing with the cart, she bobbed her head. "There we go. Follow me." As she moved for the door, she added, "We're on course to a Federation planet now, to pick up a shipment of dilithium crystals. Pretty routine stuff."

Oliver frowned at that description. "You don't actually get to leave the ship too much, huh?"

He nodded, pushing the cart after her as she went. "What are dilithium crystals for?" he asked, lowering his voice in case anyone in the area would wonder about the silly questions.

"Not too often, no. I'm needed here. But sometimes I get sent down to inoculate the local populace, so I get to see new worlds, and that's nice."

She led him down the twisting corridors to an empty recovery room, punching a few buttons on the console outside the door before she led him in. "They're what power the warp core. Without them, we can't travel far at all." Now she began stripping the bed as she continued.

"We released the patient in here about an hour ago. So the bedding needs changed. It goes over here." She pressed a red button on the wall and a waist to shoulder high door slid open, revealing an empty space in the wall. She tossed the bedding in, hit the red button again to close the door, then hit a green button. There was a light humming noise and she explained. "Dematerializes the bedding and rematerializes it down in laundry where it's cleaned."

That really wasn't the answer Oliver had been hoping for. He frowned, unable to picture what it would be like to be travelling all over the galaxy in a fantastic ship like this but only rarely able to leave it. "All right, one day, I'm taking you to visit the TARDIS," he said. "For real this time. And a planet and everything!"

That decided, he watched, nodding at the proper moments, as Christine explained about stripping and making the bed. He had to be neater about it than he was used to, but that was no surprise. He helped her to make the one in the room and did a decent job of it, at least, if not quite up to par with an orderly who was used to quickly and efficiently making a neat bed. On the bright side, keeping busy was helping him to ignore the sterile environment and its unmistakable smells that usually sent him into a near-panic at proximity alone.

"Okay, I think I've got that," he said, hoping that she would agree. "What else?"

[ooc: Let me know if you don't like the skipping ahead!]

Christine quirked a brow, but looked pleased. It would be an adventure to go off with him in that crazy TARDIS and get to explore new places.

"It's a deal."

His bed making skills weren't immaculate, but she doubted anyone else on staff would notice besides herself. She really was a stickler for order, but she wasn't going to point out to Oliver that the corners could be tighter when he was being held on the ship against his will. At least he was taking it well.

"Well now you just go to all the empty rooms and change as many sheets as you have with you. It'll say on the console outside the door whether the room's occupied or not. After that, just go back to the storage closet and hide out for awhile, and I'll find you with the next task. And, you know, don't touch anything."

Oliver grinned, starting to feel excited about this plan now. He'd have to talk to the Doctor so they could come up with a really good location that Christine would enjoy. Maybe somewhere with really neat medical advances? Then again, he had a feeling maybe it'd be better to get her away from all that and just bring her somewhere really beautiful. Maybe Auroris. Its sky looked like a constant sunrise, and they'd landed in a field of pink-petaled flowery shrubs last time. Christine might enjoy something like that.

"Oh. Okay." He couldn't help sounding a little disappointed by Christine's directions. They were definitely sensible given the situation, but...well, it didn't sound like it was going to be the most exciting day on a starship ever. Then again, if he was going to be stuck in the medbay, he didn't want it to be exciting. "Yeah, sure. I won't." He gave her a nod and a smile that was more cheerful than he felt in the given situation, then moved behind the cart and pushed it out of the room.

He just hoped he didn't run into anyone who was too curious about his presence. Part of him thought that would be a nice way to make things more exciting, but he still didn't want to get Christine in trouble. And he figured he'd seen enough jail cells for a lifetime already.

"'Kay, I'll leave you to it." She was reluctant to leave him alone, but there would be questions if he was shadowing her all day. Trying to convince herself that he could handle changing sheets, she moved towards the door.

"Remember, just come to the storage closet when you're done."

"Yeah, I've got it," Oliver said, though he was less-than-enthusiastic about it himself. "I'll see you there." He gave her an encouraging smile. Disappointed or not, he didn't want to worry Christine, as she surely had enough to be getting on with already. So to help her feel better about leaving, he turned away and started pushing the cart toward his next destination.

Christine headed off into the main area of the med bay, expecting to find it as quiet as she'd left it. Unfortunately, there was a group of doctors and nurses surrounding a biobed and when she pushed her way through, she saw an Ensign with the nastiest looking rash she'd ever seen. Add in the swelling and he looked pretty bad.

After being filled in on his condition -- apparently one of the sentient plants in the greenhouse had attacked him -- she turned away to let another nurse handle it, only to see another crew member come through the turbolift doors, his cheek swelling rapidly and sporting an interesting shade of blue.

"Got another one!" she announced, hurrying over to him. Once he was settled on a bed, she was instructed to get cart loads of supplies from the storage closet. She hurried off, Oliver momentarily forgotten.

After separating with Christine, Oliver started to go about making beds just as he'd been instructed. Thankfully, most people were much too busy with their own work to pay him much mind beyond a question or two about when he'd gotten there, and Christine's cover story worked well enough for that. He was actually rather impressed by how smoothly it was all going, as he was far more used to visiting places with the Doctor and having their cover go anything but. No one even seemed to be watching closely enough to notice that his bed-making skills were a little under par, which was a relief.

The hospital smell did bother him as he worked, but he put it out of his mind as best he could do. It helped that visiting empty rooms meant he didn't have to see any actual patients, and the one time he saw a stretcher coming his way in the corridor, he had enough time to duck into an empty room before actually encountering it. He tried to comfort himself by thinking that at least Christine wasn't watching his embarrassing fear. But that was the point at which he decided it was time to go back to the storage closet. The last thing he needed was for any of Christine's colleagues to see his discomfort.

So he wheeled his cart back to it, ducking inside to hide. When the door very soon opened, however, he tried to cram himself into a corner as tight as he could do, praying that whoever this was wouldn't spot him. His mind raced with possible excuses, but beyond the old trick of claiming he had been looking for something, he was at a loss. He closed his eyes, trying again to go to the Plane. Why wouldn't it work!?

Christine rushed into the storage closet, grabbing a cart and reaching for bandages. The rashes couldn't be removed with the dermal regenerator for some strange reason, and so applying salves and wrapping the affected areas up would have to do. More and more crewmembers were arriving by the minute, as the rash was spread by touch and not just the plant itself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a blue uniform in a corner and suddenly remembered having told Oliver to hide out there once he was finished with the beds.

"Oliver, is that you?" She moved around a shelf, relieved to see it was in fact him.

"Thank goodness! Listen, I really need your help wheeling a cart of supplies out to the main emergency area. We've got an epidemic on our hands."

Oliver sighed in relief at the voice, quickly stepping out of his hiding place. "Hey, Christine!" he greeted brightly.

His smile dropped at her expression, though--and at her instructions, he went pale. "A--an epidemic?" He swallowed hard, his mind in a whirl, mixed between his fear of what was happening to the people here and his nearly-as-strong fright of the main emergency area. "Y-yeah, of course," he said, struggling to keep his tone even. "What supplies?"

Glad that he'd at least managed to sound halfway calm with those last words, he moved to the side, trying not to block any of the shelves so Christine could get what she needed. And as he waited for more information, he focused on breathing.

Noting the look on his face, she said, "Don't worry. As long as your skin stays out of contact with their skin, you won't catch it. We'll put on gloves before we leave here." Gesturing to a shelf, she pushed the cart she had been filling towards him. "As many of these sealed packages of bandages as you can, please. I'll fill up another cart with ointment and salve."

Oliver's eyes widened at that. Not only was he going to be involved in an emergency situation, but it had to do with a contagious disease. Perfect.

Still trying to act as normal as possible, he nodded numbly and turned to the shelves, spotting the bandages and starting to pile them onto the cart. "How bad is it?" he asked quietly, forcing the words through the lump in his throat.

"Not life-threatening, thank goodness," she replied, too preoccupied with loading her cart to see what expression he was wearing. "It just makes the skin swell and turn blue. And the swelling's itchy and painful."

Finishing with everything, she grabbed some gloves and handed him a pair. "Here we go. Better safe than sorry."

There was some relief in his gaze at that news. "That's something, anyway," he murmured, continuing to load his cart. It still didn't sound pleasant, nor did it help with his fear of hospitals, but everyone was going to live. That was most important.

He finished his cart just as she finished hers. Accepting the gloves, he tried to pull them on, only to realise that his hands were shaking. Inwardly, he berated himself, hoping Christine wouldn't notice. He really was pathetic in hospitals. Taking a few deep breaths, he willed himseslf to calm down and managed to pull on the gloves.

Christine would have been more perceptive of Oliver's plight had she not been in such a hurry. Snapping on the gloves, she grabbed the handles of her cart.

"All right, let's get out there." She wheeled the cart to the door and it slid open.

"Yeah..." Oliver took a firm grip on his own cart--enough that his knuckles turned white, in fact. His nerves were still playing up, and he swallowed hard. It didn't help.

But he still wheeled his cart after Christine determinedly, as ready to face what was coming as he could be.

Back in the main trauma area of the med bay, it was organized chaos. All the afflicted were seated on biobeds and the staff were all wearing gloves. But the patients were itchy and irritable, and the staff was glad to see Christine come back with the needed supplies. Dr. McCoy started barking orders, which were soon followed by Christine's own to her nursing staff.

Turning back to Oliver, she gave him an encouraging smile. "This'll go fast," she murmured under her breath to him. "Back to the closet when your cart's empty." She could tell from his face that he didn't like being out there.

Oliver nodded numbly to Christine, hoping she was right about that. For the moment, he was seeing the action and shouting around him as though through a haze. He could feel his heart pounding, and it wasn't as though it was because the situation itself was particularly terrifying. Really, everyone seemed very calm about it--annoyed, if anything, and determined. But he was in a hospital, and there were doctors shouting, and he wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else.

Hardly aware of what he was doing, Oliver began passing supplies from his cart to the people demanding them. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have been relieved that they were too focused on their tasks to ask him anything else. But as it was, he was working automatically--and trying not to think too hard about what he was in the middle of, at that.