"What, m'love?" he said absently, his gaze glued to a topographical map on the screen before him, despite the fact that he could hardly keep his eyes open.
She overrode the screen controls, blanking the one in front of him. He blinked and turned to stare at her with weary accusation.
"Why did you do that?" he asked. "I was right in the middle of studying the geography."
"Alex!" she said with exasperation. "You hadn't changed the screen in half an hour; you probably hadn't really looked at it in all that time. Alex, you haven't eaten anything in over six hours, you haven't slept in twenty, and you haven't bathed or changed your clothes in forty-eight!"
He rubbed his eyes and peered up at the blank screen. "I'm fine," he protested feebly.
"You're not," she countered. "You can hardly hold your head up. Look at your hand shake! Coffee is no substitute for sleep!"
He clenched his fist to stop the trembling of his hand. "I'm fine," he repeated, stubbornly.
She made a rude noise and flashed her screens at him, so that he winced. "There, see? You can't even control your reactions. If you don't eat, you'll get sick, if you don't sleep, you'll miss something vital, and if you don't bathe and change your clothes I'm turning you over to Decontam."
"All right, love, all right," he sighed, reaching over and patting her column. "Heat me up something; I'll be in the galley shortly."
"How shortly?" she asked sharply.
"As long as it takes for a shower and fresh clothes." He pried himself up out of his chair and stumbled for his room. A moment later, she heard the shower running and when she surreptitiously checked, she discovered that as she had suspected, he was running it on cold.
Trying to wake up, hmm? Not when I want you to relax. She overrode the controls, not bringing it all the way up to blood-heat, but enough that he wasn't standing in something one degree above sleet. It must have worked; when he stumbled out into the galley, freshly clothed, he was yawning.
She fed him food laden with tryptophane; he was too tired to notice. And even though he punched for it, he got no coffee, only relaxing herbal teas.
He patted her auxiliary console, this time as if he were patting someone's hand to get her attention. He'd been doing that a lot, lately, that and touching her column like the arm of an old and dear friend. "Tia, love, don't you realize we're almost through with this? Two cones to go, three if you count the one I'm working on now."
"Which I can finish," she said firmly. "I don't need to eat, and I only need three hours of DeepSleep in twenty-four. Yes, I knew. But you aren't going to get teams out there any faster by killing yourself, and if you work yourself until you're exhausted, you are going to miss what might be the important clue."
"But," he protested, and was stopped by a yawn.
"No objections," she replied. "I can withhold the data, and I will. No more data for another eight hours. Consider the boards locked, brawn. I'm overriding you, and if I have to, I'll get Medical to second me."
He was too tired to be angry, too tired even to object.
In the past several days he had averaged about four hours in each sleep period, with nervous energy waking him long before he should have reawakened. But the strain was taking its toll. She had the feeling he was going to get that eight solid hours this time, whether or not he intended to.
"You aren't going to accomplish anything half-conscious," she reminded him. "You know what they say in the Academy; do it right, or don't do it."
"I give up." He threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. "You're too much for me, lover."
And with that, he wandered back into his cabin and fell onto his bunk, still fully clothed. He was asleep the moment he was prone.
She did something she had never done before; she continued to watch him through her eye in his cabin, brooding over him, trying to understand what had been happening over the past several days.
She had forgotten that she was encased in a column, not once, but for hours at a time. They had talked and acted like, like ordinary people, not like brain and brawn. Somehow, during that time, the unspoken, unconscious barriers between them had disappeared.
And he had called her 'love' or 'lover' no less than three times in the past ten minutes. He'd been calling her by that particular pet name quite a bit.