[Niall Organa]

Coming out of deep sleep, Niall stirred, just a little. He'd turned in early, very early indeed; easy enough to do in the depths of space, where the day/night cycle was entirely by common agreement.

Now, though, he stirred. Thoughts intruded on his mind, making sleep difficult. And once they'd come, they were difficult to drive away.

Niall sat up suddenly. The room was almost entirely dark, but a little blue light cast across his form, his bare chest as he breathed in and out, blinking in mild confusion.

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Cole had turned in sometime after the Captain, Niall had already been asleep. The doctor's sleep had been fitful, however, and when the man sat up, he'd stirred, rolling over and cracking an eye open. Even if he hadn't been aware of his bunk assignment, there would have been no mistaking the distinctive scar on the other man's chest. Groaning softly, "what time is it?"

[Niall Organa]

Niall squinted at the nearby chronometer. "It is... twenty-three-oh-seven exactly." He said.

He glanced across at the blond man, just barely visible in the dim light. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" He said, his cultured tones soft.

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Cole shrugged, running a hand through his curls, "I need to get up soon anyway." He blinked both eyes open, watching the man across the narrow barrack, "did you get enough sleep?"

[Niall Organa]

Niall sighed, leaning back to put his hands behind his head. "I think so. Perhaps. I turned in early. I think it should be enough."

He was silent for a few moments. "I don't usually get pre-combat jitters. Or, at least I haven't for a while." His lips pressed together. "Perhaps it's because this is the first actual military campaign since I was shot."

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Stretching, now that Niall was looking away, Cole sat up, pushing away the rough, military-grade blanket and exposing the scar that stretched down from just under his left pectoral, turning sharply to cross to his right hip. He grabbed his utility belt, finding the hypospray by touch, placing it against his stomach and injecting himself.

While Cole had never been particularly muscular, he was the product of naval training. But the previously handsome, if wiry, man had lost weight in the intervening years since Nar Shaddaa and, along with it, any definition his stomach and arm muscles had once had. The blue light washed out his skin, making him look white in the darkness.

[Niall Organa]

It would be hard to see in the dark, but Niall's eyes were concerned as he glanced across at his bunkmate. His grey eyes flickered as they noted the slimmer figure, the new scar. And the injection. Niall's brow furrowed just a little.

For his part, Niall looked better than he had, almost two years ago. His color was better, and he'd clearly gained some muscle, which showed as he sat up once more.

"Cole..." He began. Hesitated. "How have you been? Since last time we met, I mean."

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Cole let his gaze wash over the Captain. Two years was a long time, and Niall looked just how the young surgeon remembered him. There was no sense trying to cover up again now, the room was so small there was less than an arm’s length between them, and he was sure Niall had already seen the scar. Besides, the hydromorphinone was starting to work, easing some of the tension that tangled up Cole’s mind.

He stretched and dropped back onto the thin mattress, rolling onto his side and propping his head up on his elbow. Waking up next to Captain Alderaan? I could get used to that, he filed the thought away, next to the thought of the five bunkmates he’d be gaining once they made planetfall.

Running his free hand through his hair, “I can’t complain. I was enjoying the authority I had with my previous assignment. I feel like I should be asking you that question, if you haven’t been on a campaign this major since Tatooine, then what have Command been wasting you on for the last twenty-four months?”

[Niall Organa]

Niall's lips curled up into one of his rare smiles. "Ah yes, authority. I'm still not sure whether to offer you my congratulations or my commiserations. Perhaps the former, since it seems to suit you."

He sighed, leaning back, relaxing as Cole relaxed, stretching his hands up to rest behind his head again. His gaze went up to the ceiling. "No major campaigns. But I've certainly been kept busy. Working with Lieutenant Vera and the rest of the Mandalorian Irregulars has been sometimes aggravating, but more often rewarding. And we've done some good things together, working in tandem with SIS."

Niall glanced over, his lips quirking. "But I asked about you. Don't think I'm going to let you off that easily." His tone was light. "May I ask how you got that scar?"

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

While Niall looked at the ceiling, Cole was free to look at him, and the surgeon wasn’t letting the chance go to waste. With his hands behind his head, the Captain’s physique and distinctive scar were readily on display, limmed by the low light. At the question, he glanced down, self consciously brushing his fingertips across his stomach. “I’m guessing my dossier says something about a distress call on the edge of Imperial Space a few months ago. Hopefully, it didn’t mention the lone survivor we found there attacking my team.”

“The advantage to energy weapons,” say, a lightsaber, for example, “is how they tend to cauterise flesh, so I didn’t need to hold my own intestines in.” There was something darkly flippant about his tone, playing down being almost cut in half as if it were no big thing.

[Niall Organa]

Niall rolled onto his side, frowning interest. "I haven't had the chance to read it, I'm afraid. There's been so much to do..." He sighed, running a hand through his own hair.

He winced. "Ouch. That sounds rather like the sort of advantage that one appreciates after the fact." There was a short pause, Niall's lips pressing together. "Was the recovery long? And... does it still pain you?"

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Cole met the other man’s eyes. “We were near the border of Imperial Space when we intercepted a distress call. Small vessel, shot to hell, we took a small boarding party to sweep for survivors. The one we found assumed we were hostiles come to finish him off, and acted accordingly.” Shrugging, “Imperial Space, a lot of the details are still classified, but I didn’t have time to be worrying about my own wound when it suddenly became critical that we get off the vessel.”

Running a hand through his hair, “the downside to energy weapons is that, when they’re self-cauterising,” Cole lifted his head so he could gesture with both hands, “a bunch of things that aren’t supposed to stick to each other get fused.” He continued to make vague indications, “so I had to get the team to open me up,” a hand drifted down and rubbed at the thickest part of the scar, where it crossed his abdomen.

He might have elaborated, letting his fascination get the better of him, but his eyes were drawn down the younger man’s muscular chest, over the scar he carried. Cole knew almost every inch of Niall, committed to memory from days of long-term care, but there was a distinct difference when they weren’t separated by glass. “I didn’t wind up in a tank, I have no right to complain.”

[Niall Organa]

Niall's grey eyes were serious as he listened, only just visible in the dim blue light. Controlled though Niall was, he couldn't help but wince as Cole describe what had to be done.

Still, the joke made him chuckle softly. Niall stretched, wiry muscular arms reaching back and up along the wall behind his head. "Indeed. I can confirm you didn't miss much by staying out of a tank. It took months before I stopped tasting bacta." Actually, sometimes he still thought he could taste it.

Niall pulled his arms back beneath the covers. He looked at Cole, frowning gently. "But... does it still pain you? Or require more treatment? Injections?" Hesitance could be heard in the young captain's voice.

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

"I lost a section of intestine, a bunch of perforations," he waved vaguely at his abdomen, "it's a bit of a mess in there, slow healing. And this," he swept his fingers along the scar from stomach to chest, "itches like hell some days." Cole watched with a hint of a lopsided smile as his companion stretched, "by the time we decanted you, you were well past the worst of it. If it wasn't for my duties, I think I would have preferred to sleep through recovery."

[Niall Organa]

"Ouch." Again, Niall winced sympathetically, although it became a chuckle at the word 'decanted'. "You know, my family does have a small vineyard. We sell a few bottles of Organa wine. Your words bring to mind the image of a very unusual vintage."

Niall sighed, leaning back, letting the issue of the injections pass. For now. His gaze went up to the ceiling. "You mentioned your duties. They kept you busy during recovery? No time to rest?" Niall recognized his own hypocrisy in asking; goodness knew he never rested enough. His lips quirked.

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

“I was CMO,” Cole ran a hand through his curls before tucking his other arm under his head and settled down on his side once again. “I had medics reporting to me, supply management, and the assignment wasn’t going to pause for a week just so I could take a vacation. When you’re on the Outer Rim, you don’t get time off for good behaviour.”

The surgeon left out how hard he pushed himself; he probably wasn’t fully aware of why he’d done so, the boredom and isolation he’d felt. “What about you? You’re looking well,” fit, toned, and good enough to eat with a spoon. Cole drummed his fingers on his thigh and huffed a sigh, dropping onto his back to look at the ceiling as well.

[Niall Organa]

Niall's lips quirked again. "No, I suppose you don't. Not many positions in the military that do give time off for good behavior. There always seems to be more to do, doesn't there?"

"Oh? Medically speaking?" Niall shot Cole a brief flash of a smile. Of course, for the reserved captain, that was practically a hug. "Keeping up with the Mandalorian Irregulars has been a challenge in more ways than one. My improved health represents the physical aspect of that, I suppose. I've been training with Vera." He glanced over. "Do you remember her? From Project Evolution. She lost her arm to a flamethrower, the rest taken off by a lightsaber. I brought her to you as soon as we landed."

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

“First name basis, is it?” Cole had one hand behind his head, the other tapped an irregular pattern against his stomach. “Seems to suit you.” The surgeon was feeling a little off-centre about the subject of Mandalorians, knowing that they were about to oversee the death of a slew of ‘bad’ Mandalorians. Cole’s nose wrinkled, like there was a bad taste in his mouth.

“Before we drop out of hyperspace, I’d like to get an updated scan from you.”

[Niall Organa]

"Hmmm. Privilege of equal rank, in different services. It means... I don't have to be on all the time." He sighed. "It does get rather tiring, you know."

"An updated scan?" Niall sat up, frowning gently. "Is that really necessary? I should be at least pretending to try to sleep." His lips quirked.

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Turning his head to look at his fellow captain, "I can't imagine you not being on, Captain Alderaan." Cole's gaze returned to the ceiling, staring at his companion's muscular physique for too long wasn't the best part of his morning. "It establishes a baseline. Helps me determine if anything goes off kilter after we make planetfall." The surgeon shrugged.

[Niall Organa]

Niall chuckled, dryly humorous. "You're entirely right. Some people have a public persona and a private one. I find it best if the two are in agreement. Otherwise the strain becomes too intense."

He sat up, letting his legs drop over the edge of the bed, and the sheet fall away. He was dressed in boxer shorts; blue, of course. It was his best color after all. The rest of him seemed to be in the same shape. "Very well." He sighed. "Scan away."

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Sitting up again, Cole retrieved his mediscanner without looking at the utility belt it was stored in. As the older man turned to face Niall, the nature of his scar became more apparent; it started on his craggy right hip with a short, upward stroke, like a bladed weapon being raised, cut across his abdomen, before hooking upwards almost to his armpit.

Cole turned the mediscanner on and casually passed it over the captain. He was wearing boxer briefs, his one concession to having to share a bunk, boring black. "You'd think I was pulling teeth, not waving a diagnostic scanner at you."

[Niall Organa]

Niall's grey eyes flickered to Cole's scar for a moment, his lips pressing together. But he made no comment.

He chuckled softly. "I assure you, I see both doctors and dentists as required." He sat up a little straighter, the muscles of his stomach tightening as his posture improved. His grey eyes flashed up towards the doctor. "So, how do I look?" He asked.

[Dr. Cole Ormont]

Shutting off the scanner, Cole’s eyes travelled over Niall’s body, like I should lock the door. The older man’s eyes glittered hungrily in the darkness, jaw tightening, accentuating the high cheekbones and the hollowness about his face. “Fighting fit,” he answered, “try to stay that way.”

[Niall Organa]

Niall smiled. "I assure you, I shall do my best."

He hesitated a moment, then gave the doctor a nod. "That goes for you too, you know. I don't need to tell you how dangerous these things can get. I expect you know that better than I." Indeed, Cole was probably often elbow deep in some of the worst injuries. "Be careful out there."