A Portrait of Adler (Day 1 - Late Night)

No answer.

Dorian tapped lightly upon the hatch. “Riley?” he whispered, immediately feeling silly for his actions...as if a hushed call would be heard over a knock. This time, he knocked again, a firm rap of his knuckles upon the metal hatchway.

This time, he was met with a very prominent response. Keller’s hatchway suddenly slammed open. His voice welled up, slurring a bit as he shouted, “Gorramit, son! She ain’t home! Dohn mah?”

“Ku,” Adler nodded toward the empty corridor. “Have a pleasant evenin’, Captain.” As he set off down the corridor, the medic assumed that something had come up to get in the way of Riley’s invitation to her quarters. *The never ending stress of command,* he shrugged in silence.

The galley was currently empty, and clearned for the night, save for the dishes he’d provided for Marisol. {i]As good an excuse as any to loiter about,[/i] the Doc thought, before rolling up his shirtsleeves as he ran water into the sink.

“Dāng wǒ shēnghuó hé hūxī shí (as I live and breathe),” Lyen said, one hand on the opening to the galley. The doc’s hands thus occupied, the nun entered and sidled onto the bar stool opposite the sink. “You missed quite the party on top of the boat,” she said to Dorian’s back while adjusting her braid. “It was more of a plum wine party, but Elle’s opening up. I almost got a limerick out of her.” She cocked her head, “Need any help? I can dry.” Leaving her perch, Ly found a dish towel and accepted the plate from the dentist. “How are you?”

“Just a couple dishes,” Dorian shrugged as the Sister set to work with a towel. “Had tah make certain our mechanic remembahs tah eat,” he chuckled. “But aside from missin’ tha topside party, Ah’m right as tha mail. Yahself?”

“How’s she doing? I haven’t had a chance to see Marisol yet. Elle and I had a very interesting conversation, but I do have a surprise planned for tomorrow. I’m headed into town for a few things,” she said, placing the plate in its place. “I’m alright--a little anxious to get off the ship, maybe. I think Daisy and I are wearing out the cargo bay, poor pup. Plans for this evening?” The time told her it was already late, but it had been a sort of electric night.

The medic tilted his head aftward. “She’s got tha engine room torn tah shreds,” he chuckled. “Somethin’ about “core bearin’s?” Told me she’s workin’ til five in tha mornin’, but Ah made her promise she’ll turn in early tomorrah night. Got a good appetite, an’ was about as clear headed as a person who chooses tah work all night can be considered,” he concluded with a smile. “As fah me, Ah’m not certain at tha moment. Why’s that? Lookin’ tah go bar hoppin’?” he quipped.

Lyen whipped his shoulder with the towel, “No, bar hopping is not on the agenda. Actually, I thought we could sit--maybe I could pick your brain. Nothing serious, I just wondered if you’d share a couple stories from your past with me.” There was this feeling of wanting to know more completely a person on whom she relied so gladly. “I could ply you with tea.”

From where he stood, passing time in the galley with the Sister was just about the perfect solution. At least, he wouldn’t miss Riley when she passed through toward her quarters. “Ah can be plied,” Dorian offered a casual smile as he joined Lyen at the large table. “So, stories from mah past?” he asked. “Not very excitin’ fare, Sistah. What would yah like tah know?”

“Fantastic,” she replied. Kettle set to boil, the nun pulled up a chair opposite the medic. “I’m curious about Dorian Adler’s youth: what were you like at twenty? I’m sure there was university and such, but what about after--your transition into your practice?” Ly settled in, eyes attentively on his as she listened for the whistle of boiling water.

“Well,” he cocked an eyebrow, “hope that tea’s got a bit of caffeine.” Adler settled into the chair, crossing his legs to get comfortable. “At twenty, Ah was in University...chasin’ a bachelah’s in biology. Didn’t start med school til twenty-three,” he tilted his head. “That was tha beginnin’ of mah ‘serious young man’ phase. Yah see, Ah idolized mah fathah...he was a respected physician, a man of lettahs...who eased a prominent medical career when mah mothah died tah be more present in our lives. He spent his days as a country doctah an’ gentleman farmer...tah give a good life tah mah sistahs an’ me.” A wan smile crossed Dorian’s face. “And he succeeded,” the medic nodded as he met Lyen’s attentive eye.

“Ere go, when Ah was college age, Ah was hell bent tah emulate tha man. Ah lived in tha campus library, pestered mah professahs….especially mah poor chemistry teachah,” he grinned at memories untouched. “Ah got mostly good marks, which made mah application fah med school an easier process….that an’ tha fact Ah was Lawrence Adler’s son.” He looked up from his memories. “Not much else tah tell about age twenty,” he shrugged. “Life was one big textbook...except fah holiday visits at home an’ such.”

It was like a photograph settling into focus. Each piece of Adler’s life by his telling livened the image, making the contrast stark with his yearning to be like his father, saturating it with the colorful bindings of his books. But one fact took more focus than the others, though it was a simple statement of fact.

“Your father sounds like a remarkable man. I’m sorry to hear about your mother; it must have been really difficult for you three. I lost my mother, too, when I was young. How old were you?” There settled a knot between her brows as she returned the medic’s gaze.

“Eight,” Dorian’s gaze trailed across the galley. “She died in childbirth. Mah fathah saved tha baby...mah sistah Melanie.” His expression settled into its’ professional neutrality.

Lyen was quiet, her eyes on the table between them. It sounded like Dorian had either made peace with it long ago, or that he had yet to walk that path. “I’d love to meet Melanie. Is she still on Hera?” Ly watched the careful look on Adler’s face, a face stating fact, not feeling. Behind them the kettle began its whispering whistle. She stood, bringing the pot, two cups, and two strainers on a tray to the table. With two hands, Ly poured the water over black tea leaves into Dorian’s mug, and repeated the task for her own. The nun cleared their places and returned to her seat, folding her hands around her cup.

Dorian accepted the cup, sliding it before his place at the table. He gave it a gentle stir to assist the steeping process.. “Ah don’t know where she is. Haven’t seen her since just aftah tha Browncoats surrendered.”

That sparked a curious thought in Lyen, “Not since the war… Did you fight?”

“No,” the doc replied. “Ah was in med school, third year, when Ah got tha call tah come home. Browncoats had retreated tah our valley, an’ Fathah was tryin’ tah get us packed up an’ gone before tha Alliance showed up. Ah made it home just in time fah tha war tah land on our doorstep. All we could do was hunker down an’ wait it out.”

“That must have been frightening,” she surmised. “I hope you all weathered the storm unharmed. Thank you for sharing with me,” Ly added with a gentle smile. To know more of Adler was a privilege: a man she looked up to for his even keel and desire to learn the ways of peace and harmony.

“Of course,” he responded with a formal bow of his head. Adler concealed his private sense of relief that the Sister’s questions had ground to a halt. Those days in the Serenity Valley after surrender were not a tale he preferred to tell. The doc took a gracious sip at his tea, opting to remain in place for awhile longer.

The nun rose from her seat. “I’m off to bed. Tomorrow promises to be a busy day. Let me know if there’s anything you want me to pick up for you in town.” Placing her cup in the sink, she disappeared down the stairway to the deck below.