Chris can barely remain in his seat — not looking much like a captain, not one of Starfleet’s best and brightest, instead now just any other hospital visitor anxious about their loved one — but eventually, the medic finishes his review. Tells Captain Batel not to overdo it, and that for a while she’ll need to return each day for a checkup and there’ll be a debrief, additional study, additional monitoring; but she can be discharged. She can go continue her convalescence somewhere more comfortable, not this clinical white infirmary, not meant for living.

Chris is instantly by her side again, drinking in the sight of her, even frayed and haggard as she is. “You feeling up for a little walk? I’ve been staying in an officer’s suite, it’s—”

This is too public in front of the doctor, his shoulderblades crawl at the prospect of saying something so openly, but his jaw sets. Decides not to worry about it. It’s pretty obvious that they’re attached, and he’d already sung about it in front of his entire crew, so that particular goose is cooked —

“You can stay with me, if you don’t mind the company.”