Popping a couple of the dry, snow-white pills into his mouth, Charles moved them under his tongue to allow them to break down correctly. He picked up the Melatonin bottle, gave a quick salute (as was customary - the Captain outranked him, so he saluted. Simple.) and walked back to the elevator.
Musing on this or that while the elevator rolled down, he promptly tried to remember where in the hell the crew quarters were, then spent about five minutes stumbling his way back to them, forgetting to return the pills on the way.
A straight few days of sleepless running, hiding, and worse combined with the potency of the Melatonin and the withdrawal of the anti-sleep powder to absolutely crush all of Charles's will to sleep; he stumbled into the room he had used before heading down to the mess hall and almost immediately collapsed on the bunk, still fully clothed, and shut his eyes.
She was waiting on the other side of the dropped eyelids.