Cranial to Caudal

[Farah]

“What do you see?”

The young man at the microscope twitched, eyes glancing away from the oculars just enough to see that the pink skinned woman was leaning in close, face firm and eyes sharp.

“For research’s sake, don’t look at me.”

He stiffened and cleared his throat before turning his attention back to the microscope. There was a petri dish beneath the high powered objectives, a thin layer of tissue sitting in the center. “I see…uhm…” One hand steadily twisted the coarse focus, then the fine. “Cells.” He answered weakly.

There was a moment of silence between them the length of a heartbeat, and Farah was almost impressed at how rapidly her blood pressure rose in that instant.

“Brilliant.” She ground out. “You see cells. But what about them?”

The young man hesitated, swallowing thickly as he adjusted the fine focus and scrolled around a bit. Perhaps he’d do better without the good doctor breathing down his neck, but she didn’t seem intent on letting up. He hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place, not with her reputation, but an assignment was an assignment. “They’re… ….”

“A mix of different cell types.” She finished curtly. “Which means that the mass we excised was cancerous. Which means that my trial is having setbacks. Setbacks caused by an intern who wouldn’t be able to identify a tumor if it was growing on his own ass.” Farah scowled. “Now get out.”

The intern hastily scrambled up from his seat, grabbed his things and left as quickly as he could. Probably joining the others that had been cast off by the difficult doctor.

Farah watched him go then pinched the bridge of her nose. She could not understand what was so difficult about this.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

The door almost smacked him in the face, before Samson managed to take a step back and avoid the... crying man storming out of the operating room.

That was odd.

The clone glanced over his shoulder, watching him almost sprint out of there and that confused him a bit. It couldn't be that bad, could it? With a shrug Samson ducked as best as he could - these doors are never made for people his size, it was annoying - and wandered into the room himself. "Doctor." The greeting was soft-spoken and polite. This was always a surprise for some reason to other people. Almost as if they just assumed that a large, scarred man as Samson should be screaming at the top of his lungs all the time.

Silly, very silly.

He passed her by and began to wash his hands in the sink.

Hygiene was number one and two in the field of medicine. If protocols of sterilization were not taken in account, then most research was useless in the science field. Because who knew what kind of bacteria could have been infecting the test samples.

"I see you scared away another one." Anyone else might have sounded judgmental.

Samson? He just sounded like he was making a natural observation.

 

[Farah]

Farah’s head rose just slightly from the scope as she gave Samson an acknowledging glance before turning back to her work.

“It’s not my fault.” She grunted. “It’s not my fault that they’re idiots.” The young doctor was very protective of her work and got along with few of her colleagues because of it. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t form bonds—she absolutely could. She was just abrasive when it came to certain things and drove others away.

Writing something down on the pad beside her, the Zeltron pulled away from the scope and sank rather dramatically into her chair. Her gaze wandered over to the tall figure near the sink with a grunt of approval given that the first thing he did upon entering the lab was wash his hands. Any good doctor or scientist was obsessed with sterility. Bacteria could invalidate so many trails and kill so many patients.

“How do you deal with them? The idiots?”

She always found it rather odd given who he looked like and how gentle he was in turn. She’d never seen this one yell, even though he looked like he could bite your head off at a moment’s notice.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

"Deal with them?" Samson politely inquired while drying his hands and exchanging bare skin for clean gloves. Oh, the clone knew exactly what Farah meant by it, but it still seemed to be such an... odd way to put things.

It didn't occur to him that he was rather intimidating to the regular person.

Most of the interns circled wide around him, avoiding him at any cost. Samson simply assumed they didn't much like him. Which was okay, he seemed to have that effect on a lot of people and he knew for a fact that you couldn't force someone to be friends with you. "In my experience they respond well to positive reinforcement, Doctor, they are already quite anxious about getting this complicated business right."

A soft shrug followed as he stepped up to the table and reviewed the work she was doing. One glance through the microscope and Samson grunted. "Cancerous mass again?"

He straightened up and almost hit his head against the lamp hanging off the ceiling. Samson squinted at it with indignation.

"Which is to say- they only get more anxious and incompetent the more you push them." He blinked then, mulling over his words and then giving a nod. A deep one, almost as if it was a bow from a man his stature. "I did not mean to lecture you, Doctor, I am sure you have a better understanding how to handle them."

 

[Farah]

Farah watched Samson with an attending’s eye as he gloved himself. She always marveled at his stature, at who he looked like and how his personality was in complete contrast to that. He was the literal definition of a gentle giant.

She tilted her head back, taking in a sharp breath through her nose before exhaling it the same way.

“They should know.” She insisted. “By now, they should know what they’re doing.”

Though skilled, Farah did not think of herself as anything particularly special or gifted. In her mind, this was how all doctors and scientists should be—driven, dedicated to their pursuits. Ignorance, unless willful, was not a crime for an intern. To this end, Farah had assumed that they were all just lazy and inept. She did not realize the advantage she had with the Zambrano name, the education and the lack of unrelated memories to get in her way. She did not have attachments and hadn’t been alive long enough to for any lasting relationships.

“Yes.” She responded bluntly, clearly displeased with the outcome. “The mass found in bark rat 11 was not found to be benign. Ancillary studies came back normal, but as you can see it’s clearly tumor tissue.” Farah wasn’t one for ethics, but it would have been scientifically irresponsible to use human subjects in an early trial. Bark rats were easy to keep and handle.

“I don’t know how to handle them.” She admitted, though curt. “Stop apologizing. I asked you for your opinion.” Her lip half curled into something that resembled a sneer.

“Have you taught before?” With his nonthreatening approach, the Zeltron had to wonder. She could put ego aside in favor of developing new skills.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

"No, I can't say that I have, Doctor." Samson retorted calmly after giving her an acceptive nod. "I will avoid apologizing for apologizing then, otherwise I think we would be here all day."

That last part with some good-humor, before he returned to studying the results in front of them.

This was disappointing.

If they'd ever be successful in developing that infernal scanning equipment they'd have to ensure they didn't actually give anyone cancer while they were at it. That would presumably put a damper in their marketing capabilities. "As for the aides. You simply need to be patient with them, positive reinforcement helps. Give them compliments when they do something well."

In that they were no different from a rat or a dog.

Just slightly more petty and annoying, if Samson was honest.

Hm. That was a rude though and he felt bad about it. It wasn't as if these humans could really do anything about it. It was simply in their nature, wasn't it? "I would be glad to help you, if needed, Doctor Farah."

 

[Farah]

Farah blinked as Samson apologized for apologizing. She looked as if she were about to say something but in the end, the good doctor decided to let it go. That was something the one attending who wasn’t afraid of her hounded her about—pursuing every argument no matter how small. He often chided her to be cautious of the hill she wanted to die on.

“I will try.” She ground out, sounding like a child who begrudgingly accepted something a parent had told them. Samson was hard to hate. He was a diligent worker and considerate of others. While acerbic, Farah was not devoid of feelings and was simply an adult who’d spawned into a galaxy of intricate feelings and relationships that she didn’t quite understand.

When all else failed, Samson was usually sent to her. He could take her verbal abuse with a gentle smile, something that begrudgingly weakened her power. Surgeons were vicious creatures, thriving off of the thrill of cutting someone open and scrutinizing their peers. Never having experienced a close emotional relationship with anyone, Farah had no issues being cutthroat.

“You may be too tall for your own good.” She waved a hand at the lamp scarcely above his head. “But you’re not a complete lunkhead.”

That was probably as close as she’d get to something resembling a complement.

She pushed herself up from the chair and donned a fresh pair of gloves. “Get the dissecting scope out. Another rat died last night and we’ll need to do an autopsy.” She went for the cage where the rat’s body had been stored, carefully removing the little carcass.

“How long have you been working here, Samson?” She asked idly. Farah typically wasn’t one for chit chat but she found that she had some level of interest in this large man who parted the hallways just by passing through yet probably cried for the dead rats at night.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

A smile and a nod followed.

"That's all anyone ever can do in my experience." Samson retorted calmly, before slowly moving his head away from the lamp he had almost dashed his head against. A low sigh of exhaustion followed that move. Why was it that every room seemed to have been designed specifically to hurt him in some way? Either he had to lean in, duck, try to squeeze himself in or Samson simply didn't fit at all.

A giant in a child's world.

It was annoying to him.

Couldn't they have simply make everything a little bit bigger? "Thank you, Farah. I appreciate you saying that." He said earnestly with a slightly brighter smile. It was one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to him.

He did as was told, getting out the gear they needed to dig into the rat and see just the extent of the damage. That would presumably allow them to figure out just where the new design for the scanning device had gone wrong. Which would allow them to fix it, hopefully make it a little bit more efficient too. "Oh, not long, I think maybe three or four months?" A shrug followed soon. "I only work part-time to get enough hours on my cred. I'd like to get a degree."

Curious glance to her.

"You?"

 

[Farah]

Scarlet brows arched as he graciously accepted her quasi complement as a…complement. Either this man was a master of subtle sarcasm or he was the most genuine person in this hospital.

She fetched the rat’s body from the cage, placing in in a large petri dish and sliding that under the field of the dissecting scope after he’d set it up. The doctor quickly changed her gloves as he responded to her question.

“About the same,” She replied in a distracted manner, waving her own answer away. “More importantly, you’re trying to become a doctor?”

Her brows raised again and she seemed to scan him as if she were judging the large man by different criteria now.

She grunted softly.

“I’m getting bored cutting open rat after rat.” She gestured towards the kit of tools on the bench next to the scope. “You do this one. I’ll tell you if you do something wrong.”

In honest truth, she wasn’t getting bored of dissections. She’d rather be doing surgeries, but anything that furthered her research satisfied her for now. She’d dissected enough rats for now, though.

But he would need something to practice on.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

He nodded with something of interest.

Both of them were new and strange faces here, then, perhaps that was partially why they got along better with each other than with the others. Well, besides the fact that he was an eight foot giant with scarring worthy of a veteran of dozens of wars, while she was... Farah. "Mhm, yes, I think it would be an interesting experience." Samson didn't say anything about helping people! or I am only really good at this! or I have been flash-printed with the experience of a doctor with decades in their field!

All of them were strictly true.

But it was the interesting experience that tugged him along.

Another nod, before Samson took over, the gloves already on hand he started sorting the equipment he would need for the task ahead. "I'd love any advice or wisdom you have to offer, Doctor Farah." Samson said with a little smile (which only served to stretch out the scar tissue more, which was usually what made people more afraid rather than put at ease)

Samson glanced over to her for a permissive nod, before he settled into the rhythm of the cut. His fingers worked deftly to hold the rat in place, while he made the first incision almost flawlessly.

As if he had done this not just once, but many times over.

 

[Farah]

Farah stood over Samson’s shoulder, eyes lit by the cold clinical lighting of the lab. She was standing on her tip toes in order to do this, something she usually didn’t have to consider when breathing down an intern’s neck. It wasn’t really intended to intimidate, moreso to get a closer look and to get them accustomed to having an audience while operating. Surgeons had to remain steady under pressure.

Farah grunted something between a mix of surprise and appeasement.

“I would.” She walked around to Samson’s other side to get a closer look at how he handled the instruments, how he knew where to place his hands and exactly where to main the mainline incision. “But you already know what you’re doing.”

The Zeltron had been flash trained in basic procedures but still demanded that she gain real life experience in surgery. It frustrated her to no end to be able to perform a surgery but not have the memories and experiences tied to learning it. There was no depth behind her ability, not until now. This was why she had come to Coruscant General. She’d zipped through her internship and was now sitting pretty as a resident, finally becoming comfortable with her own talent now that she was getting some solid practice.

She was a skilled surgeon in her own right and recognized the steady hands of her own kind.

“Where did you do your training, Samson?”

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

This was the first time she'd see that particular expression from Samson.

It was a rolling cloud that blanketed the usually straightforward and open face of the clone. He continued to work for a while, not letting the corpse, the blood and the cutting out of his sight. Just the expression and maybe his presence in the Force growing more elusive.

He didn't like to lie, especially not to people that were nice to him, but... "Some truths do not solely belong to me, Doctor Farah." A lie would have been easier, certainly, but Samson was not one to take the easy road just for the sake of it.

His thoughts went to [member="Irajah Ven"] and the scars he had made.

"I'd rather not lie to you." A pause. "I like you."

As simple as that as Sam continued to open up the rat for the next stage of the research.

 

[Farah]

Farah watched Samon, observing not just the way his hands moved but the way his face lined in an expression she couldn’t quite place. Though she didn’t realize it, it was only natural as a Zeltron to pay closer attention to body language. As a scientist, Farah felt that it was important to try and get a handle on someone’s thought process while they worked. The easiest way to do that was to watch her face.

She would have asked him to elaborate if she hadn’t been taken aback. Maybe she would have pushed. She had a sense of boundaries but tended not pay attention to them when it came to extracting information. Sometimes this was to her benefit, sometimes not.

Her face softened for the first time, caught off guard by a string of simple words. I like you. Only now did she realize that she’d only been spoken to like that in a superficial manner. Oftentimes it had to do with her race or her looks—being a young female Zeltron doctor got her a wide variety of those looks. It was part of the reason why she’d adopted the attitude she had.

“Alright.” She relented, opting not to push in that direction anymore. In the back of her mind she was conscious of Samson being a very large, very muscled figure. His gentle demeanor did not eschew that.

But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t drop things entirely. “I’m not sure why you like me.” Her gaze swept down to the rat where it stayed. “I am very unkind.”

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

A nod in response to her alright.

That was good, he definitely had not liked the prospect of lying to the good doctor. Oh. Samson would have, because while he liked her, he owed everything to Irajah. Some bonds transcended friendship, love, likeness, Raj was his creator and would forever hold his loyalty. When Sam had been struggling with his purpose, worried, she had listened and let him go. That had only solidified his respect and loyalty. There were not many things he wouldn't do for her.

"Unkind?" Samson mulled on those words for a bit.

They weren't untrue strictly speaking and he wouldn't spare her feelings like that. "Perhaps." A shrug, the gesture large and heavy enough that it made the table vibrate just a bit, before he put down the scalpel and started pinning the hide, so it wouldn't get in the way once they dug further.

"You are driven, hard-working, expect the best from yourself and as a consequence expect the best out of those around you." His expression softened as he looked up to catch her eye. "People have a way to disappoint those expectations, haven't they?" A smile then, something rare from Samson. "Besides, you are kind and patient with me." If there had been any doubt about him potentially being a master of pure wit and subtle sarcasm that would be wiped away.

That look in his eye was far too genuine.

 

[Farah]

Farah watched him not just as he worked but as he spoke. She’d never encountered someone so ridiculously genuine.

Her mouth thinned into a straight line as she considered his assessment of her. She’d never really thought about herself all that much, at least not in that way. Perhaps she constantly pushed herself so that she wouldn’t have to sit down and actually think about her own existence.

“I told you. You’re not a lunkhead.” She muttered. “Not like the others.” Her head tilted back towards the door to indicated the intern she’d sent away crying. Even before Samson quietly displayed his skill with a scalpel, there was something different about him. Instead of choking back tears or getting defensive, he absorbed her bitter remarks with a kind smile and gracious acceptance of her attitude.

Less to the point, there was some trickle of sadness behind those kind eyes. Something she didn’t care to touch upon because frankly, she didn’t know him that well. Farah didn’t know anyone that well. Because she had never experience a bond with someone, she didn’t care about feelings other than her own. Her own auto-empathy creeped herself out, and for now she was content not to pursue training the innate ability.

That didn’t mean that she was a monster. Her cruelty to others was out of a lack of understanding and a bitter need to be taken seriously given that she was both a young woman and a Zeltron pursuing a highly respected career. Sometimes she wished she could scrub the pink from her skin, but oh well.

“Why medicine?” She asked him suddenly, eyeing him intently in that Farah way for his answer.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

He just smiled at her and inclined his head in acceptance.

Then that question came around.

It made him look thoughtful, studying the corpse and ponder his answer. Samson couldn't say: this is what I was made to do and so I do it, because it would reveal too much. Of course, Samson could opt for the general old: "I'd like to help people!", but he had already decided not to lie to Farah. So what sort of truth could the clone share with her without compromising his creator? What would be reasonable here, what would be... satisfying for the both of them?

Samson looked up and gave her a little shrug. (even a little shrug from him was a large gesture).

"People make me feel odd, because I am not really like any of them." That was simple fact and didn't have anything to do with his looks even. "I'd like to understand them. What better way to understand them then by learning what makes them tick and work?"

Cutting them open.

See what's inside.

But those last parts Samson didn't add, because it would presumably weird her out. He knew it was weird. Best not to broach it. "How about you?"

 

[Farah]

He was thinking, that much she could tell. Thinking of a way to explain what was in his head to her. What she couldn’t tell was what was holding him back, what loyalties he owed and what experiences he’d had to shape his answer. That was all for Samson to keep.

“I see.” She didn’t sound pleased, perhaps even mildly disappointed as if he were a student who’d given the wrong answer. But she wasn’t—Farah was plague with chronic queen face and chronic queen…voice. When she was deep in thought or genuinely giving something consideration, she looked and sounded angry. And that was something she often took advantage of.

“You’re not like the surgeons here. You don’t have a God complex like the rest of us.” In truth, she felt as if her own reasons were similarly in line with his own. Farah was so hyperfocused on her work because this is all that had ever interested her, all that she’d ever known. Things made sense here.

She shifted to move to the front of the chair she was leaning on, slipping into the seat as her eyes swept down to the partially dissected rat. Skin pinned taut to the dish beneath, organs carefully removed with all of the proper cuts.

Dr. Navarro remained silent for a few moments, arms crossed over eachother as she seemed to focus on the rat. “Do you get a certain thrill out of the idea of holding someone’s heart?” Her eyes were still cast towards the little creature as if it were some sort of important focal point. “Not metaphorically.” Of course not, not in this hospital. “Your hand on a patient’s heart after an emergency thoracotomy. Does that excite you, to think of your hand massaging a patient’s heart being the only thing that keeps them alive?”

She hadn't been dodging his questions because she was trying to hide anything or play coy. Farah wasn't interested in talking about herself right now. The hulking lab assistant was more interesting.

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

Could God have a god complex?

Often Samson pondered about himself and his role among the... others. The normal people, those that weren't giants, tattooed and scarred by their own hand, that didn't have access to the Force. That didn't have memories of genocide and murder and darkness in their head, pulling them into nightmares the moment their eyes closed and sleep took over. Samson was fully aware of his own strength, it couldn't be any other way when he had to apply only two fingers when performing a heart massage.

[member="Irajah Ven"] had been less than amused when his first attempt (full hand) had caused the heart to simply burst.

"Like the rest of us..." Samson repeated softly, while his attention went back to the cadaver. Looking at his own handiwork with a critical eye and spotting several little mistakes. Nothing astonishing, still basically perfect, but was basically perfect really enough?

"Do you think of yourself as a god, Farah?" He did not have that impression, but then... he didn't truly know her all that well yet. "Thrill?" Samson blinked at that as he pondered the question. It didn't come up as an affirmative. "I find humans to be fragile no matter if I perform surgery or not." A shrug followed. "It is more inconvenient than thrill-inspiring if I'm being honest. Why do you ask?" The heart was only one example where caution was a quality taught to him by experience.

There were reasons for Samson being who he was.

 

[Farah]

Did she think of herself as a God?

She paused. It was the sort of question she should have seen coming. It went without saying among surgeons, those she got along with and those she didn’t, that they thought highly of themselves and their skills. To Farah, her ego was justified. That didn’t mean that she looked down on others. Farah appreciated skill and dedication no matter the field.

But a God? Her mind wandered to the trials she’d been conducting both within the public eye and hidden.

“If I am, then I’m not very good at it.” There was a distinct note of mirthless humor there.

Still, it was always his response that interested her more. “Oh,” She waved a hand. “Humans are fragile no matter the size of the surgeon. Though I’d imagine you know how to control your strength if you perform surgery.” She gestured to the rat laying prone, open and eviscerated. It wasn’t surgery per se, but a delicate procedure performed by a hulking man on a tiny rodent. “Nearly every species has the same level of fragility once you cut the skin or crack the shell.” She shrugged. “Friable tissue, delicate veins. You need a light, dexterous touch to be able to maneuver around inside an open body and do more harm than good.”

She sat back, examining Samson with a hard stare. It was very rare to find a surgeon who didn’t at least partially get off to the idea of literally holding someone’s life in your hand.

A brow cocked. “You do know how to manage your strength, don’t you?”

[member="Samson"]

 

[Itash Mecetti]

[member="Farah"]

"I am sure that if a God exists they have similar concerns with their ability." Samson mused softly- seemed logical to him. After all, the Galaxy seemed to be doomed into a never-ending cycle of war, peace, war, always the same groups involved, always the Force threading through it all. If life was a science experiment and God was the scientist, clearly God hadn't yet discovered what he was trying to figure out. Otherwise he wouldn't be forced to repeat the same trial over and over again, no?

That seemed logical to him anyway.

"I. um." He looked away, trying to avoid that stare for a bit, before shrugging a little bit. "I have been practicing on melons."

It felt awkward to admit that.

Try to imagine this large hulking man with a melon in his hands, squeezing it over and over again, until he got just the right pressure down to not have it burst between his hands. "It has been... challenging, they are so squishy." Kind of like humans in that regard. Then again they were less squishy than the first heart he had burst in Raj's experiments, so they had that going for them. Samson shrugged again, looking up to meet her gaze and offering a small smile.

"I will get the hang of it, I am sure."