R & R
"Hi, Doc. Fancy running into you here."
"If you consider hospital-issue sweatpants and t-shirt fancy."
"Someone's in a mood," quipped Greg.
"Why are you here, Commander?"
"Same as you, I imagine. PT." Greg's tone was too innocent, his smile too bright. He didn't care. He was here for a bit of fun with his workout. He went to the appropriate torture device and began his physical therapy routine. He'd been slack about it, but this was an opportunity not to be missed.
John's eyes narrowed, expressing his disbelief at the coincidence that brought them both to the Rehabilitation & Recovery Centre at the same time.
"Doctor Watson?" The physical therapist's address pulled John's attention away from Greg. The younger man's tone was pleasant but firm, all the meaning clear without needing all the words.
Greg had heard it plenty and done his own grouching about it. It was a pleasure to watch John going through the misery of rehab, having so recently been there himself. The exercises he did now, in fact, had been prescribed by Doctor John Watson and administered by the same therapist, a fellow by the name of Oscar.
Both Greg and John were intent on their own exercises for several minutes. Greg quietly cursed himself for not keeping up with his PT the past couple of weeks, but damned if he would let it show. That would spoil the fun of payback.
"R and R used to mean...rest and...relaxation, didn't it?" snarled John.
Greg didn't have to look to imagine the strain he was under; he could hear it in John's voice. He looked anyway. Oh yeah. He remembered that phase. Resistance exercises on the grav-and-mag bed. Greg's had been mostly arm work; John was doing leg exercises at present, trying to get his damaged left side back to the strength of his undamaged right side.
"Something like that, yes," Greg agreed without sympathy.
"That's enough thank you, Commander." Oscar's tone was clear once again, not unkind, but brooking no arguments.
"Sorry." Greg fell silent and the young man turned his attention back to John, who had a lot more recovering left to do than Greg. He shouldn't interrupt, especially as he was meant to be motivation not distraction. Not that John knew that. It wouldn't work if he did. Doctor Jones had requested Greg's presence that morning to spark John's competitiveness, drive him to work harder at his PT. Greg did his best to fulfil Jones's request. He went methodically through every exercise he'd been prescribed, taking the time to get his form right and not skip any repetitions.
He finished before John and could see no good way to stall that wouldn't be obvious. Hopefully the work he'd done today had been helpful both to Doctor Jones and to John.
"Hey." He caught John's eye across the R & R Centre. "Maybe I'll see you here tomorrow."
John pursed his lips and drew his eyebrows together in annoyance. A sheen of sweat stood out on his scowling face. "That would be lovely."
Greg chuckled and made his escape.
When the door had shut behind him, Oscar and John traded a satisfied look.
"That went well. I think he did everything I prescribed," John said.
"He did," confirmed Oscar with a smile. "I kept notes. Good plan."
"I have them occasionally. We'll have to make sure Jones speaks to him again. If watching me suffer is what it takes to get him to do what I ordered him to do, I can handle a little mocking."
"Yeah, but can you handle a little more PT?" John let his head fall back against the grav-and-mag bed with a gentle thud. "I hate this."
Oscar chuckled sympathetically. "You'd be rare if you didn't. Okay. One more set and you can have a rest."
"I'd rather have a bath and a curry."
"I'll have to ask Doctor Jones about the curry."
John sighed. "Don't bother. All right. Let's get this over with."