#(EXCEPT when he's hurt and mccoy's trying to help and spock is literally trying to bite his hand off and MCCOY is calling him a poor little

[muirmarie]

honestly the funniest thing is coming across ppl who are like "bones is so mean to spock 😡😡😡" like spock doesn't go out of his way to be just as big a cunt to mccoy??? it's their LOVE LANGUAGE!!! some of y'all didn't grow up watching tv shows with old broads and old queen-coded men being as cunty as possible to each other OUT OF LOVE. spock spends half his shift on the bridge coming up with mean things to say to his dr the moment mccoy flounce onto the bridge to flirt with jim (affectionate) and spock (derogatory and bloody, there will be no survivors except for them, THEY'RE having a BLAST).

listen when the cards are down they will be thoughtful and worried and touch each other SO gently and fight over who gets to die for each other. all of that is the floor they're standing on. they KNOW that. but GOSH in the meantime they're BOTH having an absolute blast bullying the shit out of each other, bless <3

[crescentdream24]

Chance Encounters

Fandom: Star Trek Alternate Original Series

Word Count: 7k

Pairing: Dr. Mccoy x Reader.

Prompt: Literally just a random little fluff piece. How reader and Dr. Mccoy meet and get together aboard the Enterprise

Rating: T+

Warning(s): mild injuries, nothing major

Chance Encounters

You fell in love with the Enterprise the minute you stepped foot aboard her with the rest of the new recruits. The sleek lines of the ship were breathtaking as it was from the outside, but on the inside it was even more than you could have ever imagined. The bowels of the ship literally hummed with life—instruments gleaming and the crew bustling about in a way that resembled some sort of uniform chaos. For everything going on through every ship deck, it all had a purpose, everyone had a duty to perform. And now you were there to carry out a duty of your own.

The first few weeks were the hardest, as you’d expected. Everything was new and very real---no more simulations like you were used to back at the learning academy. It felt like you were introduced to a hundred new faces with a hundred new names in a matter of hours, and you were terrible with names. You were given a quick ship’s tour that glossed over many important areas which left you scrambling to find your own personal quarters at the end of the day. The food on board was hit or miss--- the food replicator could only do so much, and its version of chicken noodle soup left much to be desired.

But you quickly found solace in your work, living out most of your hours in one of the many laboratories aboard the ship. You delighted in wearing your science- blue uniform, and felt a sort of humble pride bubble up within you for all you had accomplished.

Even more exciting than finally being on the Enterprise in person, was the fact that you were now working on the Enterprise. You got to dive head-first into categorizing all the fresh samples of flora and fauna sent down to your lab from various away missions, testing soil samples and blasting open several rocks with a high-powered laser. Everyone you worked with was just as enthusiastic about their work as you were, and you made many fast friends with the crewmates that you shared your shifts with.

A few months into your first year on the ship, you made your way down to the science lab you were scheduled for that evening, trying to stifle back a yawn half- heartedly as you strode down the deserted hallway. Evening shifts were your least favorite. You’d always considered yourself a night owl back on Earth, but these last few months in space had been proving you wrong. You thought it was funny that even though there was no natural sunlight to queue your brain into when it was morning or night, it still took its cues from the brightness of the interior ship lighting, which dimmed noticeably in the evening hours to help keep the appearance of a day and night cycle.

Rounding the corner, you stood in front of the entrance to the science lab, pausing for a few seconds to punch in your keycode and letting the doors pull back automatically to admit you. You entered and stood there a moment, taking in the sight of the lab, the polished instruments glimmering under the overhead lights like jewels. You would never tire of working here, not in a million years.

You nodded your hello to the only other crewmate in the lab, a slim brunette about your age whom you’ve worked with a few times before. Her name was Rochelle, and she was timid but quite clever once you got talking to her. It was a person you didn’t mind having on the night shift with you----you weren’t especially talkative in the evenings, anyway.

Making your way over to the far wall of the lab, you awakened the touch screen panel that was mounted to it, calling up your shift schedule for the next week. It was the duty of each crewmate to double-check their work assignments for the following week in case there were any errors. Your eyes took in the schedule, expecting it to show you stationed at your regular post here in the lab as usual, and you were----except for one day in the middle. Away mission.

Your eyes widened as you re-read it. Away mission? But the captain of a starship usually didn’t bring anyone planet-side until at least their second year of active duty if they could help it. A ball of tangled nerves settles in your stomach, and you turn away from the screen, looking out into the lab but not fully registering it.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Rochelle is looking up at you from her microscope, sensing your mood change.

“Oh....yeah. I just, uhm. I saw that I'm slated for an away mission next week.” You swallow down some bitter saliva, trying to wrap your head around it.

Rochelle puts down the glass slide she was inspecting and nods in understanding. “I heard Mr. Spock discussing it in the hallway briefly when I passed by him and the Captain yesterday. They decided to choose you because of your past history with the planet.....I think it’s called Vater Epsilon V?”

Your heart begins to pound as the pieces finally fall together in your head. Your father had done considerable mining on the planet for several years and you had accompanied him in your youth. The trip was actually what you credit for sparking your interest in intergalactic space travel as a career path. It had been a wonderful trip that you look back on fondly; so many new things to experience. It hadn’t been without its danger though---most of the vegetation on the planet was extremely poisonous to humans if ingested or even with contact to the skin for a short period of time. You and your father had been in the mines for most of the trip, so there had been little danger. But, the locals have given you both a detailed tour of the area and you had read up on the planet even more on your return home. You assume your expertise of the planet is the reason you were being chosen. But it didn’t do anything to calm your racing heart.

“Right, that must be it. I’ve been there before, actually.”

Rochelle’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Really? That’s so exciting.” You make your way over to the station beside her, washing your hands and donning your work goggles, trying to put your nerves behind you. You tell Rochelle all about your trip as you remember it, and you two work away the hours quickly until your shift is almost over.

“Wow, I can’t believe we’re almost done for the night.” Rochelle says as she checks the time read-out on the console beside her. “It hasn’t even felt like.......” Her voice trails off and you look up at her, seeing that her skin is now startlingly pale.

“Rochelle?” She doesn’t answer you and wobbles unsteadily. Your instincts take over and you spring into action, taking a large step towards her as her knees buckle under her and she falls to the ground, steadily guiding her to the floor with your arms as she faints. You remember your training about falling with the person that’s fainting instead of trying to catch them. Guiding them to the floor instead of trying to stop the fall altogether and potentially hurting you both.

You lay her on her back, and her head lolls to the side, eyes closed. Trying to shake her awake gently yields no response. You shout her name as your fingers urgently such for a pulse against her neck, finally covering over one of her carotid arteries. The pulse beat feels steady underneath your fingertips, and you relax slightly although not enough to calm your own frantic heartbeat, backing away towards the comm unit on the wall to hail a medical team to come assist you.

They arrive a few moments later with a stretcher in tow, and you recount what happened to one of the nurses on the team as they carefully load Rochelle and carry her to the sick bay. You follow them, not wanting to leave your friend when she’s in such distress.

The bright lights of the medical bay are startling contrast to the dim light of the hall, and you blink a few times as your eyes re-adjust. The bay is mostly empty, rows of beds lining one wall off to your left with larger cubicles surrounded by privacy curtains on the other side. The medical team transfers Rochelle to a med bed and you stand back to give them room as they work, quickly hooking her up to the vital signs monitor mounted overhead. The sound of her steady heartbeat fills the room as the team clears away, leaving only a nurse to attend to her for the moment.

“What’s going on out here, Nurse?” A rough voice breaks through the relative silence of the sickbay and you turn your head to see a dark-haired man stride into the room to stand at Rochelle’s bedside, ignoring you altogether. He’s clad in medical blues and his eyes are already assessing her, retrieving more information in one quick glance than the nurse would ever be able to tell him. The nurse gives him a run-down on her vitals----all normal except for the blood sugar levels.

He runs a quick scan with his handheld tricorder, hovering it just above Rochelle’s body in a slow, steady motion. His eyes are intent and laser-focused, and you sense he’s taking in every minute detail of her condition in a way only achieved by years of experience. You listen to the low beeps of the tricorder and swallow, wanting to add something to the conversation but feeling strangely intimidated at the moment.

“I...I was working with her when she fainted,” you start as the doctor continues scanning. “I noticed she’s wearing a medical bracelet. I believe she’s a diabetic.”

The doctor’s eyes flicked up at you then, and you’re startled by them. You’ve seen hundreds of people with dark eyes like his before, but none of them had ever seemed so....brilliant.

“Did she hit her head when she fell?” He asks you as he sets down the tricorder, walking over to a medicine cabinet a few feet away as the nurse prepares a hypo needle.

“No, I got to her in enough time to ease her fall. And her pulse seemed steady when I checked for it. She just wasn’t responsive.”

He grabs a vial out of the cabinet, handing it to the nurse as he turns to face you again. “Are you medically trained?” He asks offhandedly, raising an eyebrow. You swallow again, wondering if you did something wrong. Shifting on your feet you shake your head. “No, just the basic Starfleet training.”

He doesn’t acknowledge you as he makes his way back to Rochelle and the nurse passes him the hypo, injecting it swiftly into her upper arm. You watch with worry in your stomach, hoping that her condition would be easily remedied. Diabetes nowadays was easily controlled with a simple daily pill and a strict diet, but you had read during your studies at the Academy about how serious a condition it had been in the past. People used to need constant insulin injections and daily blood tests centuries ago to remain stable. It still wasn’t anything to mess with today, either.

The nurse leaves to tend to the other few patients in the medical bay, and the doctor finally looks up at you again, his hard expression softening somewhat. “You did great. She is diabetic, her sugars were just out of wack there. That hypo should set her right again, but she’ll probably sleep for a few hours now.”

“So, she’s going to be okay?” you add hopefully.

“Most definitely.” He had a pleasant Southern twang to his voice, one that inexplicably put you at ease. “You did exactly the right thing.” He went to leave but paused, turning back on his heel. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh,” you put a hand on the bedrail in front of you. “It’s Y/N.” You inspect the insignia on his blue medical uniform. “And I’m assuming you’re the CMO?”

He flashes a tight-lipped grin, only for a moment. “Unless there’s someone else here claiming to be chief medical officer. If there is, you send ‘em to me. Name’s Mccoy.”

Your mouth twists up into a smile as he continues. “I better get back. No rest for the weary.” He nods his head towards you once, looking down to pick up the tricorder and inclining it towards Rochelle. “And your friend there is damn lucky you were workin with her tonight.” He adds as he leaves, making his way into one of the exam rooms on the other side of the med bay. You realize you’re still smiling awhile after he’s gone, and you shake your head abruptly. Time for bed.

OOOOOO

You quickly slung the slim utility belt across your hips as you stood just outside the transporter room, preparing for the away mission you were about to embark on in a few minutes. Mentally, your brain did one last run-through of checklist-- your phaser was set to stun, you had all your scientific supplies safely tucked away along with your scientific recorder, and you had brushed up on your knowledge of the planet in the days prior so you would feel prepared. You’d checked all the boxes and anticipated every scenario. So why were you standing there shaking like a leaf?

Taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady yourself, you finally bite the bullet and step into the transporter room, Captain Kirk and Commander Spock already standing on their respective transporter pads. You give a quick nod to both of them. “Captain. Commander.” Spock returns your nod.

“Ensign Y/N.” The captain regards you carefully. “I’m betting your knowledge of this planet will come in handy. Initially, it was supposed to be a quick stop for some supplies from the mines, but there’s a group of villagers that have come down with what looks to be Andronesian encephalitis that we need to check out first.” He flips on his communicator, testing its signal strength. “And Starfleet would love to get its hands on some more information about what makes those poisonous plants so potent.”

You nod, trying to will away the unsettled fluttering in your stomach. “I’m quite familiar with the area we’ll be transporting to. I’ll try my best to collect some worthwhile environmental samples.” You step up to the transporter, standing just to the left of the captain and a security officer, who offers you a tight smile. You assume this is the entire landing party when you hear the doors open again in front of you. Dr. Mccoy rushes in, a look of annoyance clearly written across his face. You feel your heart skip unexpectedly.

“Do you really need me for every god-damned planet-side escapade, Jim?” He quickly slung his tricorder across his shoulder, hopping up on the transporter pad near the other side of the Captain.

“I believe the chief medical officer is a vital member of the landing party when the natives of such planet are afflicted with ailments they are otherwise unfamiliar with.” Spock’s statement of fact was met with an eyeroll from the doctor.

“It wouldn’t be any fun without you, Bones.” Kirk smirked, clearly enjoying the frustration of the CMO.

The transporter energized then, and you experience the familiar odd, fuzzy sensation spread throughout your body along with a split-second of darkness to your vision that always puts you on edge. Suddenly, you find yourself standing on a patch of grass in the middle of a heavily-treed area, feeling the sunlight pour in from the sky above and relishing in its warmth. You’ve missed being outside on solid ground.

“Could they have picked a deadlier place for us to beam in?” Mccoy looked around warily, and you immediately recognized his concern. On Earth, a place like this would be harmless, even sought-after. But here, most every tree and bush held some amount of venom, and your group would have to tread very carefully.

“Alright, crew.” Kirk began, completely ignoring Mccoy’s disdain. “Y/N will lead us through until we hit the village which should only be a half-hour walk to the east.” Kirk glances over at you from over his shoulder. “Ready?”

You press your lips together, taking in a big inhale. “Yes, sir.” Carefully, you step ahead of the group and slowly begin to pick your way through the trail flanked with dense foliage on either side, avoiding all contact with the more lethal plants. Your mind is honed in on the path in front of you, eyes taking in every new area of greenery you encounter and analyzing their respective dangers in your head. Soon, you make it to another clearing and the group decides to take a short break to cool off from the mid-morning heat.

You take a small handheld recording device off your belt and decide that this would be a good time to try and collect a few environmental samples to analyze later. As you cautiously kneel down next to a gathering of particularly lethal shrubs, a shadow falls over you and you tilt your head up, seeing Dr. Mccoy duplicate your posture beside you.

“I guess saving your co-workers on nightshift isn’t the only thing on your resume.” His lips cock up to one side as he regards the plants in front of you warily.

You give a light chuckle as you slowly pass the recorder over top a thick violet-colored shrub. “Yeah, that wasn’t exactly an everyday thing. I’m trained in the sciences, not medicine. Although I do have an interest in it. My mother was a nurse.” A question suddenly pops into your head and you blurt it out. “What made you get into medicine??”

He snorted, resting a hand on his knee. “I guess certain people would say it was a “calling.” After you see the world kick people down enough times, a part of you gets fed up and wants to help.” You take in his answer as you quickly skim over the readout on your recorder. His character was so gruff and off-putting on the outside, but you sensed that his inner workings held a deep sense of duty and rigid moral character that you wanted to learn more about. You’d been told in the past that you were a good judge of character, and you had a nagging suspicion that this doctor held one as solid as any other.

“Hm, so that explains the doctor part.” You shift slightly, reaching out to hover the recorder over a small outcropping of rock. “What about the Starfleet part?”

He smirked again. “I feel like I’m in a courtroom here with all this questioning. Anyone ever tell you you’d make a damn good detective?”

“I’m just curious, is all,”you intone innocently.

“Well, I’d about had it with being on Earth. Living in space seemed new and exciting. Don’t really have much tying me to the ground, I figured I might as well be tending to aliens and saving Kirk and Spock from themselves. That’s practically a full-time job right there.”

You laugh out loud and your eyes meet, briefly pulling your mind away from your work. “You must have the patience of a jungle cat to deal with that every day.”

You start to feel a tickle on your hand and look down, seeing some sort of insect crawling across your knuckles, about the size of a horsefly. You recognize it as a pill beetle, nothing to be too alarmed about, although you remember from your research that it does pack quite a painful bite. You slowly shake your hand up and down, hoping to shoo it away. Your grasp on your recorder slips, and on instinct you try to catch it. The sudden movement startles the beetle and a strong pinch drills into the top of your hand.

“Ugh!” You drop the recorder in the bushes as the beetle flees into the sky, feeling the sting of the bite quickly grow in intensity. You sink onto both knees, holding your injured hand as a few drops of blood escape between your fingers.

Dr. Mccoy reaches out for your hand instantly, pulling it towards him to inspect. “What was that? Do you know what bit you?”

“Yesss...it was a---” You suck in your breath as the sting of the bite rises exponentially with each passing second. The literature you read about this bite greatly underestimated its intensity. “It’s a pill beetle.....it’s not....lethal.” You hiss through your teeth, trying to keep your composure but the pain is racing through you like fire along a tightrope.

Mccoy gently turns your hand over in his grasp and bends over to the side, quickly flipping open his small medi-kit and cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe. The sting of the alcohol amplifies your pain and you feel tears spring up, gritting your teeth and cursing your stupidity. You were supposed to be the expert around here, and in your first ever away mission you managed to get bitten by a worthless beetle that now had you almost sobbing on the ground.

“I know, it hurts, I know,” he tries to soothe you as he applies a slim medicated bandage across the bite. “This is infused with a numbing agent, it should help with the pain a little bit. Just give it a second to work.” He presses his thumb on top of the bandage, then slowly rubs it back and forth with light pressure, trying to aide the release of the medication from the bandage.

You try to hold it together, but the fire in your veins is only ramping up and you feel a sweat coming on, wondering if the beetle had injected some sort of venom along with its bite. “I---ughhh! This isn’t going away.” You bow your head and try to focus on something else, anything else. He draws your other hand into his and grips it tightly, trying to draw your focus away from the burning sensation of your wound and you bite your lip.

“I know it hurts, darlin’. You’ll be okay.” The drawl of his voice calms you slightly as he grabs out a small travel hypo, hurriedly loading it with a clear liquid. “Here, give me your arm.” You slide closer to him and he injects you with it so swiftly you’re barely even aware of the pinch. You instantly notice the drug kick in as it works to dull the sharpness of the pain. Slowly, your body relaxes until the burning fire is nothing more than a dull throbbing. Still quite noticeable, but much improved.

You let out a big sigh of relief and look up at him with gratitude as the tension begins to leave your body. “Thank you....so much. That was...unpleasant.”

He gives you a soft smile. “All in a day’s work. You let me know if it starts to feel any worse, alright?” He still has your hand in his grasp, and you stay in that position for a few moments longer, letting the relief flow through your veins like cold water on a hot summer’s day. The warmth of his thumb radiates into the top of your hand as it continues to firmly trace over the bandage. You watch as he strokes your hand, marveling at how someone so rough around the edges could be so gentle. You would willingly stay like this for a few hours but soon you reluctantly pull your hand away, nodding at his instruction wordlessly.

You both stand together to go meet up with the others, and you have a hunch that the medication isn’t altogether responsible for your sudden good mood.

OOOOOOO

The long streams of distorted starlight streak across the blackness of space as you idly watch from a small circular viewing port, worshipping the sight of the ship in warp drive. It always amazed you that you and all the other crew aboard felt exactly the same no matter how fast the Enterprise travelled, and could only begin to imagine what the crew of the first ship to enter warp would have felt. Enraptured? Terrified? Probably a mix of both.

The cozy seating area off the mess hall was empty, as it usually was at this late hour. You had found this little haven tucked away from it all a few weeks into your first month of duty, and ever since you sought it out quite often, especially when you felt particularly reflective as you did now.

With your arms crossed lightly, you leaned a shoulder against the space-grade glass of the viewport, looking out into the stars that were especially illuminated tonight in the dim interior lighting of the ship. Your mind wandered, thinking of your family and wondering how everyone back home was doing—there were quite a few friends you had left behind, but only a few you actually missed. You would give anything for one of your father’s hugs or a bite of your mom’s homemade casserole right about now.

“I see you’ve found one of the hidden gems of the ship.” A male voice breaks the silence behind you and you turn to face the dark brooding eyes of the doctor. You sense your pulse excite as if on cue, giving him a slightly startled look.

“Oh, I didn’t.....yeah, well. S--sometimes I come here...just to think and look out at the stars.” You stutter as you lean against the wall again, facing him this time. He comes nearer to the viewing port, looking out into the abyss of starlight. He’s quiet for a moment, as if marveling at the wonders of space himself.

“No matter how many times you look at it, it never gets any less breathtaking.” His eyes flick over to you then, and you feel a slight flush wash over you, as if his words are meant for you and you alone. He always had a way of making everything sound so intimate, with that warm southern drawl.

You clear your throat softly, trying to dispel some of the butterflies in your stomach. "It's easy to forget where we are, easy to get caught up with other things while we’re busy working. So, I like to come here to remind myself.” You turn your head to look out again, sliding a bit closer to his side. He nods at your comment and you both stand in silence for a moment as you take in the view from the viewport, relishing in a shared appreciation for where you both are.

“Hurtling through space in nothing more than a tin can,” he says with his voice low, almost to himself. Finally, he looks down at you. “How’s that hand treatin’ you?”

Before you can answer, he reaches out and takes your hand gently, pulling it toward him to examine as he runs a thumb over the ridge of raised skin where the small scab has formed over the imprint of the insect bite.

“It’s good. Finally starting to heal.” Your mouth goes dry at his touch and you swallow as your pulse races to life again. It has a funny little habit of developing a mind of its own whenever you and the doctor are alone like this. You can feel the tremor of your heart’s increased pace against your ribcage, as if fighting to break free.

You expect him to let go of your hand but he continues to drag his thumb back and forth across it and you perceive yourself inching closer to him—almost unconsciously, drawn in by the gentleness and warmth of his touch.

His hazel eyes flick from your mending wound back up to your face, holding your stare intently. “You know, space is a pretty dangerous place,” he utters slowly. “I better keep my eye on you.”

You suck in a small breath, sensing your heart about to ram itself clear across the room. “I’d like that.”

His other hand lightly presses to the small of your back and you step in closer to him, tilting your head up as he bends down slightly to meet you. You feel your eyes begin to flutter closed as you place a hand on his chest, and the drumming of your heart in your ears so loud you’re almost certain he can hear it.

The piercing wail of the klaxon suddenly screeches out through the halls of the ship, and the bright red alert lights flash to life. You open your eyes abruptly and Mccoy drops your hand.

“Damn,” he curses softly as your face falls in disappointment, your other hand dropping away from his chest. The red flashes of the alert bounce across his uniform and a few crewmen quickly dash past you both.

“Go.” You urge him, fighting against the strong desire to stay exactly where you are together for the full entirety of the alert. “Be safe,” you manage to add, trying to fight down a wave of uneasiness.

You go to turn away and make a run for your emergency posting, but his grip at your arm stops you, facing you back to him.

“We’ll finish this....later.” His voice is full of meaning and promise, and you feel your heart skip yet again as you afford him a soft smile of hope in return. You sense the grip he has on your arm gradually slip away and both of you reluctantly turn in opposite directions to answer the insistent wailing of the klaxon.

You dash down the hallway, careful to avoid colliding with other crewmates as everyone rushes to their posts as orderly as possible. You had to respond to a red alert only one other time before, and it hadn’t lasted very long. It had been scary at first, the sheer suddenness of it, but after the initial shock and boost of adrenaline faded away, everything had kind of calmed down, and you expected it to go that way again. Captain Kirk was one of the best captains in all of Starfleet, and you had complete and utter faith in him.

Racing around a corner, you make your way toward the other side of the ship, trying to calm yourself a bit in the process. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary yet, but you can’t quite shake the imposing heaviness of dread that was now settling in your stomach. You silently will your feet to keep up their pace as you pass a few more crewmen heading for the turbolift behind you, both in security red. Are they going to the bridge? Maybe something’s happening up there....

Without warning, the Enterprise forcefully pitches to one side and you tumble into the wall, jamming your shoulder harshly. The hum of the warp engines intensifies over the cry of the red alert as they work overtime to compensate, and the rattling of the hull echoes around you. You try and continue your way down the hall but it’s increasingly difficult to fight against the force of an unbalanced ship. After a few seconds, you feel everything begin to steady back out and slowly take a breath, not realizing you’ve been holding it in this entire time.

You pass through the end of the hallway into the open deck that runs overtop the engineering room, connecting to the rest of the ship deck farther down. It has waist-high railings on either side, and you can see the Enterprises’ inner workings in a glance as your race across the deck, hearing frantic voices shouting out orders from down below. Suddenly, the ship is pitched to the side again and your eyes widen in panic as you lose your footing and slide towards the railing. The drop from this deck would be several stories high, something you have absolutely no intention of experiencing. You see a few other crewmates scramble in front of you to keep their balance as you all slide for the railing, but fortunately everyone manages to brace themselves against it, including you. The overhead lights flicker a few times, and the engines roar in your ears as they’re brought up to their full potential.

The ship slowly begins to steady out once again, and you loosen your death- grip on the railing at your side, cautiously starting to make your way back to the middle of the deck.

A deafening crack echoes down through the hall behind you and the ship abruptly heaves. This time, you are un- prepared and you tumble back towards the railing full force, the right side of your ribcage making full-on contact with the unyielding metal as your body tries to bend in half around it. You gasp out in pain as both your hands shoot out to clamp down on the rail, stopping yourself from being tossed clear over to the other side and down into the engineering room. Another crew member isn’t so lucky and you hear his anguished scream as his body is flung off the steep drop of the deck.

You’re breathing in and out in raspy gasps, panic spreading through your veins as you try to keep your hold. Your ribcage is screaming out at you from the blow to the railing and you slowly sink down to your knees, trying to catch the breath that was knocked out of you before. You feel your legs quiver in your boots and you try to steady yourself once again, rationally reminding your brain that you have to perform your duty and get to your emergency post. The ship has steadied for the moment, but you don’t trust it this time, giving it a few more seconds before you dare to stand back up. You claw yourself across the railing, pulling yourself upright, and you realize you’re in one of the most dangerous places on the ship right now. As long as you make it to the end of the deck and back into the hallway, you’ll be in way better shape than you are now.

You decide to make a dash for it and run as fast as you can down the deck, trying to push the anguished scream of the crewman out of your head. Your ribs burn daggers through your uniform as you run, and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d fractured a few. An image of Dr. Mccoy flashes through your mind and you wipe it away as soon as it appears, not wanting to acknowledge your mounting fear for his safety.

The wail of the klaxon abruptly ceases, and the red flashing lights turn to ones of cautionary yellow. You halt your run as you enter the hallway, a huge sigh of relief escaping you as you lightly cover over your ribs with one hand, taking a moment to calm your breathing. We did it. We survived.

OOOOOOO

You had decided to wait until the night after the red alert to make your way up to medical, knowing that Mccoy and all the rest of the med staff would have their hands full of injured and critically wounded. The ship had come under a surprise attack and one of the upper decks had received some heavy damage, and there had been a few casualties. But you knew for certain that the CMO hadn’t been one of them, and for this you were relieved beyond words. As happy as you were that disaster had been averted, the nagging tenderness across the right side of your ribcage had only gotten worse as the day passed, and you could barely lift your arms above waist level while working your day shift at the lab. Now that your shift was over, you decided that it was time to seek out some proper medical attention.

You rode the turbolift up to medical, wincing as you reached out to indicate your desired floor on the touch panel. The doors slid open and you made your way gingerly into the brightly lit med bay, cupping a hand lightly across your ribs to help contain some of the discomfort. You saw that most of the med beds were currently occupied, with several nurses making their rounds, arms full of medical supplies. Some patients looked almost fit enough to jump up and walk out, while there were a few others with privacy curtains drawn carefully around their beds.

One of the nurses spotted you and immediately recognized the look of pain written across your features. She hurriedly guided you over to an examination room and drew the privacy curtain, sitting you down on the stiff exam table to give you a quick once-over. When she was satisfied that you weren’t in any immediate danger, she straightened up. “I’ll go get a doctor for you.”

You nod in thanks and she leaves, pulling the privacy curtain closed behind her. You wonder if you would be lucky enough to have Dr. Mccoy examine you, and feel a certain level of anxiety to think that it could be someone else. Sure, your mother had been a nurse, but that didn’t mean you were completely at ease when it came to your own medical visits. You were sure that all the doctors on the Enterprise were perfectly capable to handle your situation, but you knew none of them would do it with the care and understanding of the chief medical officer. You felt a small wave of panic swell in your gut and you swallowed it down, even though you could feel your nerves getting the best of you. Especially now, when your entire right side was throbbing incessantly, seemingly getting worse with each passing hour. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were starting to fear there was more extensive internal damage than you first thought. You pressed your left hand overtop the area again, hissing out from in between your teeth.

“No, no. It’s alright, I’ll see to her. You go take a break.” You hear a muffled voice from behind the curtain, and suddenly it’s pulled back roughly, revealing hazel eyes dark with intensity as he immediately starts to size up your condition.

“Dr. Mccoy,” you breathe out in relief.

He cocks up an eyebrow at you as he walks into the room, readying the medical equipment on the table beside the exam bed you’re perched on top of.

“That’s Leonard to you.” The hint of a smile traces over your lips as he picks up his tricorder and begins to pass it across your body slowly, and you feel the tension leave your shoulders.

“What happened here?” he askes curtly, attention focused on the readout of the tricorder.

“I fell into a metal railing during that alert yesterday. Right on top of my ribs....it’s been hurting pretty bad ever since.” You drop your hand away from your ribcage, wincing again as you accidentally twist your torso a fraction.

Your pained expression doesn’t escape his notice and he puts down the tricorder, stepping close in front of you. “Why didn’t you come up sooner?” His tone is accusatory and your gaze points down toward the white tiles of the exam room floor guiltily.

“Well, I figured you’d be pretty busy....I didn’t want to make anymore work for you. It wasn’t urgent....”

He shakes his head, and takes a small amount of antibacterial soap into his palm, rubbing it briskly into his hands. “I don’t care if half the medical bay is going up in flames, you come here if you’re hurt, you hear me?” The look in his eyes is stern, agitated that you let yourself go without proper care, and your heart rate accelerates.

You nod your head and his expression softens. “I just don’t want you to do anymore damage, is all. Lord knows we’ve got enough injured as it is.” He stands in front of you again, looking you in the eyes, assessing your condition.

“I want to get a good look at it now, mind if I lift this up?” He motions to your uniform and you nod wordlessly, bracing yourself for the pain that will inevitably follow. Before he touches your uniform, he places a light hand on your knee. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, I promise you.”

“I know.” You trust him completely, but still dread the thought of getting your ribs poked at.

He carefully rolls up the edge of your blue uniform, all the way up until it hits the underarm. You move your arm forward a bit so he can look around it, and you can see the large, swollen bruising feathered along your side in the reflection of the mirror beside you. It’s a deep purple with blue hues around the edges, and you could have sworn it wasn’t that big when you’d inspected it yesterday. You hear the doctor curse under his breath softly as he examines you.

“Really, darlin’. You waited much too long.” he gently scolds you as he hovers a hand just above the afflicted skin. “May I?”

You nod again, steeling yourself as he lightly places a hand over top of your ribs. He starts up high and you can tell he is applying gradual pressure with his fingers, trying to find any weakness in the bone. The pain is uncomfortable but bearable so far, and you lean in closer to him a bit as you close your eyes, trying to think of something else to get your mind off the throbbing. His chest is directly in front of you and you wish you could lean your head against it.

“How’s this?” he asks, starting to slowly move his hand down your ribcage one rib at a time. “Here?” “It’s okay,” you answer as you feel the pain starting to intensify again.

“Here?” His warm palm encircles your bruise, just above the very middle, his fingers playing at your side with measured pressure.

“Getting worse,” you mumble, wincing again. He moves down half an inch. "Here?”

“Ah!--” You bend forward and hiss out an exhale, your left hand darting up to hold onto the blue cloth of his uniform shirt.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes as his fingers nimbly dart across the tender area. “Just a bit more.”

Your fist balls up the cloth of his shirt as you grit your teeth, the pain searing across your right side like a bolt of lightning. Just as quick, his hand is gone and tugs your uniform back into place, looking down at you but not moving away.

“Looks like you got a few fractured ribs there. It’ll be painful for a while so you gotta take it easy.” His eyes are warm and re-assuring, and you feel the fire of your ribcage receding back to more acceptable levels. “I’ll try to do what I can with the regenerator but unfortunately it doesn’t have the best success rate when it comes to ribs. The easiest way for them to heal is still the old-fashioned way. Get plenty of rest.....and a “light duty only” order.” He sees your face fall a bit at that, knowing that most everyone aboard hated having limitations to their work duties. “And I want you to come see me every few days so I can make sure everything is healin’ like it should.”

You perk up a bit at that, and realize that you’re still holding the fabric of his uniform sleeve hostage in your fist. “Oh...I’m sorry,” you say as you slowly let go. He places a hand gently to your waist on your un-injured side and you look up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m not.” Faster than you can think, his head dips low and his lips find yours in a light kiss. You sink into his hold like melted butter, placing a hand on his chest as you kiss him back tenderly. Your eyes close and you take in the smell of him---a unique mix of coffee, medical sanitizer, and just a hint of cologne. Its an odd mixture but fits him perfectly and you sigh into his lips which are still pressing into yours.

Eventually you pull away for want of breathing, and your eyes lock, a lop-sided grin spreading across his face as he looks down at you. “Now Y/N, you don’t have to keep getting hurt just to see me.”

You chuckle up at him, shaking your head. “You have some ego on you, you know that?”

He squeezes your hip once and steps back, purposely ignoring your last comment with a glint of humor dancing in his eyes. “I’ll go get you some painkillers.”

You’re sitting in a stupor as he leaves, your mind racing so fast it’s practically blank. He re-appears in seconds, injecting you with a hypo carefully and giving you a small bottle of pills. “Take one twice a day and you’ll be feeling a whole lot better.”

You curl your fingers around the pill bottle, looking up at him with gratitude and more affection than you’ve ever felt for anyone. “Thank you....Leonard.”

He holds out a hand to help you off the exam table and you step down gingerly, wincing again but already feeling the positive effects of the hypo flow through you. “Now, let’s go give the regenerator a whirl there, darlin’. It should help you out a bit.”

Before you both step out of the exam room, he turns back to you and you stop, looking up at him in puzzlement. A warm hand finds your cheek, fingers splayed out under your ear and he kisses you again, except much deeper than the first time. Your mind is nothing but the streaking stars of space at warp speed as you return the kiss eagerly, enjoying the closeness you’ve ached for ever since you first saw him. His lips are tender but firm, making his feelings known to you in a way that makes your body crave the taste of him even more. After a long moment, you both pull away slowly, his hand still at the side of your face.

“That’s what I wanted to do ever since that damn red alert finished my thought for me.”

You smile up at him and he takes your hand, pulling open the curtain for you and gently guiding you back out into the med bay.

END

Thanks for the read!

[dreamthinkimagine]

That’s An Order!

Here’s that Chekov fic that I promised 59,000 years ago. This is a sequel to “It Was Good and Bad” which was prompted by @amazingmsme.

WARNING: a lot of sad people, bully, mention of being drugged, mention of possible death, alcohol

Chekov had had a good few weeks. Kirk was still tickling people. “Because why not,” the Captain would say. But that was alright since Kirk stopped getting him - well, almost - but Chekov was OK with that because it wasn’t constant and not nearly as much. Just an occasional poke, squeeze, or prod; nothing more. No full on attacks. He didn’t feel anxiety or anger whenever he saw Kirk nearing him or when he was attacking people anymore and since they enjoyed it, he enjoyed watching them “suffer” the “wrath” of Captain Kirk. The crew as a whole became happier - even the grumpy MD could be seen smiling more often; sometimes it even seemed for no particular reason.

It was always amazing that Kirk’s mood had the ability to change the atmosphere of whatever room he was in. As soon as he’d enter a room, the air felt lighter; like there was no weight pulling anyone down. It was even light when the crew would tease Chekov for standing up to him. Turns out that lovable dork went and blabbed to any crewmen who would listen about how the brave navigator had stood up to his tickling “tyranny” as an example that he wanted his crew to feel comfortable. Even young cadets would shuffle their way up to the Russian and shyly ask him if it was true - he didn’t even know any of these cadets either, but he was happy to play along just the same.

To be honest, it made him feel sort of like a hero. It was like when the quiet kid in high school stood up to the big bad bully and word had spread before the end of the day. Did he realize that he looked silly? Yes; but that didn’t deter the pride he had for himself. At the time, his heart was in the right place and that was all that mattered. He truly felt that he was doing the right thing - that his friends needed saving and here came brave Chekov to the rescue. That’s why he joined Starfleet in the first place: to help people.

But he couldn’t do that when he was confined to Sickbay with a stomach bug, which was where he was when it started.

***

“Captain, I’m getting a signal.”

“Bring it up, Lt,” Kirk said. What appeared on the screen was a man with grey hair and a face gracefully patched with wrinkles (especially around his grey eyes), in a red, shiny, Starfleet uniform decorated with an insignia and three medals - Admiral Clark. They all recognized him - he was in charge of all the ships in their particular class. Now, the Enterprise had just rescued an innocent planet from destruction by the Romulans - a little slower than usual, but they still did it in a few hours - and Kirk was sure they were all about to be congratulated on their success.

“Enterprise, I need to have a word with all of you.” He said in a cold tone, and his eyes, showing no compassion, aimed at the man in the Captain’s chair. Kirk stood, Spock’s eyebrow rose - and so did McCoy’s. Scotty’s smile dropped, Uhura stared at the screen, and Sulu sat up in his chair, muscles becoming tight. “It has been brought to my attention that there has been more play than work on this ship.”

“Admiral, I can assure you that that’s not tru -“

“Silence, Kirk! You are the Captain and should have put an end to this sooner. Since you have neglected your duties and have thus risked the safety of everyone on board, it is the order of Starfleet that I must attend to this vessel for you.” Kirk shut his mouth, but didn’t break eye contact.

“Do you mean to say that Captain Kirk is no longer Captain?” Spock asked, a hint of sternness in his voice, only detected by Kirk and Bones. He stepped next to Kirk, literally standing as his Captain’s right-hand-man.

“That is exactly correct. Until further notice, I will be in charge of the Enterprise. Kirk, you’ll be serving as a Cadet.” His stared at the Admiral, gaping. “Communications Officer, open the frequencies so you will receive my orders. Put them on audio so you can all hear me until tomorrow.”

“And what exactly is tomorrow?” McCoy interrupted as he took a step forward, putting himself at his Captain’s left side.

“Tomorrow is when your Chief Engineer will personally beam me aboard to take my place at command.” Everyone turned to Scotty, who looked back at them, his mouth falling open. He raised his head back to the screen and brought up his arms, as if to speak, but Kirk beat him to it.

“But, Admiral -”

“No ‘Buts’, Kirk. You had your chance. Until told otherwise, by me, you will be a Cadet. Just a Cadet. Then maybe you can learn something about being a Captain. That’s an order.”

“...Yes, Admiral.” The screen went back to the stars of space and silence filled the Bridge. Hesitantly, Bones turned to his Captain who was wearing a blank face.

“Things’ll get better, Jim. We won’t let ‘im replace ya.” Bones said giving Kirk’s side a squeeze as an attempt to wake his Captain from his daze. Nothing. No reaction. Kirk, one of the most ticklish people on the Enterprise, wasn’t reacting to a squeeze against his side. He stayed there. Frozen. His eyes still laid on the screen.

“Aye, he’s right.” Scotty said. “If he thinks I’m gonna be thrilled about beaming a scoundrel like ‘im on this ship, he’s got another thing comin’.”

“Frequency,” Uhura said, prompting everyone to look over and breaking Kirk from his trance.

“Rule number one,” Clark’s voice said. “As long as I’m in charge, there will be no more nonsense. That includes: No playing, No banter, No lollygagging, and No tickling.” No one except Clark spoke as Kirk still stared ahead. “Any disobedience will result in immediate punishment.” Jim sat in the no-longer-his Captain’s chair and sighed, rubbing his face. “And Cadet Kirk...get out of that chair!”  

***

Spock and Bones decided to stop by Jim’s Quarters and check on the...Cadet. This whole thing had come as such a shock that they weren’t entirely sure if it was real or if they’d somehow been drugged. Their own confusion acted as the only thing keeping them from arguing with each other as they both agreed that the entire situation was, and God help Bones for saying this: “Illogical.”

“Agreed, Doctor.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Jim’s a great Captain! Look at all he’s done!...it just doesn’t make any sense, Spock.” They approached the door, which opened, and went inside to see Jim sitting on his bed.

“Jim?”

“I’m fine, Bones.”

“In a pig’s eye.”

“Captain -”

“I’m not Captain anymore, Mr. Spock. If this is what Starfleet thinks is best for the crew, then I’ll step down.”

“Jim, you can’t just -“

“But he’s -”

“Wrong! He’s wrong!”

“I was just -”

“Keeping up, morale. Humans tend to need play to function mentally,“ the Vulcan finished.

“Look, I appreciate you guys trying to help, but I think I just wanna be alone right now,” Kirk said, with a slight hint of anger.

***

The next morning, Scotty reported to the transporter room and started putting the coordinates in the machine. While his face seemed blank, the muscles were tightened just barely enough that someone who didn’t know him might not notice it. His eyes shown fire. The only reason he was gentle with the equipment was because it was part of the Enterprise, his prized possession, and nothing could make him hurt her. But each movement was harder than the last. With each push of a button he clenched his jaw harder; every lever pull, his muscles tightened more.

He sighed and tried to relax his muscles once he saw the yellow, broken up atoms of Clark. Don’t make him angry, he thought, it’ll just make it worse for all of us.

“Lt. Commander Smith.” Clark said as he stepped off the transporter pad.

“Scott. Admiral. Montgomery Scott.”

“Show me to the Bridge, Smith.” He said as he motioned to the door with his head.

“Scott,” he said under his breath and followed Clark into the hall. Throughout the journey, and it was a journey, Clark kept commenting on the ship. Scotty’s ship. He’d complain that the hallways were too tight, that the wall intercom was too “out in the open where people like Kirk can play with it.” Apparently, the quiet rumble from the engines was too loud and Scotty needed to silence them immediately after they got to the Bridge.

Soon he’d started making utterances on every crew member he saw. He’d say things like that they needed to speed up their walking or slow down, that they needed to work harder at their jobs without observing them first. He even told one person that they needed to change their hairstyle.

With each opinion Scotty’s muscles tightened again. He could almost feel himself getting warmer as if steam was about to shoot out his ears like in old cartoons. In fact, he was sure his face was red; but Admiral Clark seemed too absorbed in insulting everything and everyone he saw to notice.

***

“- and Kirk better not be in my chair!” Clark finished as the turbolift’s doors opened and he stepped onto the Bridge. His rant caught the focus of everyone there, even Spock’s. With Scotty mouthing, “Good luck,” the turbolift closed. As Clark began to walk around the Bridge, the crew turned back to their stations.

“You must be Mr. Spock,” he said as he approached the half-Vulcan. Spock rose from his position, eye-to-eye with the man.

“That is correct.”

“Well? Aren’t you going to welcome me?”

“...Welcome.”

“Welcome who?”

“...Welcome...Admiral.”

“Remember it, Eyebrows.” He said and went to sit in the Captain’s chair. “You! Helmsman!”

“Lt. Sulu, Sir.”

“Did I ask your name?! Steer course for Rigel II.”

From that moment on, Clark was as hard as he could be on every and anyone; even harder than he was before. Anyone who disobeyed or didn’t live up to his expectations was punished. His demeaning remarks were starting to affect everyone. His outrageous rules and comments caused people to move slower - Bones could practically see the clouds over their heads pouring rain onto their spirits from Sickbay. Lost in the big and deep woods of depression, they were almost like zombies; except if they had one of his rigorous practice missions. The thought of giving any less than 200% made their stomachs drop, made them turn cold, made them sweat. And those were just fake missions. The thought of getting a real one, made some people freeze, others felt light headed and dizzy, and some actually did faint.

Even “Eyebrows” was affected by him. Spock never showed it on the Bridge or in front of anyone, but the name-calling was upsetting. McCoy would comment on his ears and blood, but he never attacked his face. A person’s face is the first thing someone else sees; the Admiral was judging him just by sight alone - McCoy at least got to know him first.

But Cadet Kirk received the worst of it. Clark had him restricted to his Quarters until further notice. He’d already been in there for days, and still no word.

***

Clark burst into Sickbay to see an unconscious young man on a biobed surrounded by medical equipment, a CMO, and a nurse.

“We’re about to begin surgery! You can’t be in here!”

“There’s someone sick.”

“Ensign Pavel Chekov. Thought it was the stomach flu, but it’s appendicitis - that’s why we’re about to perform surgery. Now get out, this boy’s appendix is about to burst!”

“Perhaps, Dr., if you were practicing procedures properly, he wouldn’t need surgery.”

“Are you suggesting that he is in this state because of me?!”

“Watch your tone, Doctor; remember who you’re talking to. I will stand here and personally oversee you operate to make sure you are up to procedure regulations.” So, McCoy took out the Ensign’s appendix with that overcritical, fussy, dogmatic oaf of a man watching his every move like a hawk. Peering over the doctor’s shoulder with such condescendence that McCoy could almost taste it. He made more comments about how it should be done, but the doctor didn’t listen - he even yelled at Clark to be quiet so he could concentrate - which, as he knew it would, led to punishment. As a result, Clark became much harder toward everyone in Sickbay but McCoy; and if the CMO stood up for anyone, it would only get worse.

He was forced to sit there and watch the dismay and downfall of his medical staff.

When Chekov woke, they were all at his side taking tests, gathering information, and some just caring for him as he just woke up from surgery and was probably in pain. They rushed - their brains and bodies quickly becoming exhausted after a few hours - but too afraid of the immediate repercussions to rest or make a mistake; so they pressed forward with McCoy approving or disapproving their findings.

Chekov looked at the new behavior in the Sickbay and wondered if the rest of the ship was like this. He’d never seen anything like it - to be so fast, efficient, accurate. He was a little jealous that he couldn’t navigate like that. Everything was happening so fast, that he wasn’t totally sure what was going on, but it seemed effective.

This. This was everything he aspired to be since his decision to join the fleet, even before he decided. He didn’t know what Kirk was doing differently, but he liked it. It was like he was in a new world with how things were being run. Maybe he’d get a chance to learn more and learn it faster. Maybe he’d even get a higher rank. And maybe, he’d be able to help people better than before.

***

A few hours later, Spock, Bones, Scotty, Uhura, and Sulu all gathered in the Break Room after their shifts to discuss their situation in whispers. None of them would be surprised if Clark had super-hearing; he seemed to know everything anyway, so why not what they were talking about?

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“We’ve got to do something.” Bones said as he held his aching head.

“And what do you suggest, Doctor?”

“I’m open to any ideas at this point,” Sulu said.

“Aye. I haven’t been able to fix the engine rumble - I’ve got other things to do - so he forced me to reprogram the food synthesizer to reject me. I’m not allowed to eat tomorrow.”

“Might I suggest waiting until Cadet Kirk and Ensign Chekov are released,” asked Spock. “There is safety in numbers. Two additional individuals will be beneficial to our party - especially when they will be a passionate Chekov, and the other, a very angry James Kirk.” A moment of silence followed Spock’s suggestion as they all nodded and agreed that he was right.

“But we will do something?” Uhura asked.

“We have to,” Scotty said putting his hand atop hers.

But none of them knew that Chekov was currently passionate about the wrong thing and that Jim wasn’t angry anymore.

***

After being set free from Sickbay, Chekov took to the Bridge ready to work until he couldn’t anymore - especially in front of the Admiral. He was told what had happened, but not to the full extent as Clark was in the room. All he knew was that Kirk was taking a break, that Clark would be in charge for a while, and that he ran things differently. It didn’t matter though, he hungered to do good and was more than willing to make some changes under Clark to do so.

Upon entering the Bridge, he introduced himself to the Admiral, who immediately howled an order. Chekov got to his station and carried it out as fast as he could. Properly fed, not exhausted, and his spirit allowed him to finish his task not only first, but correctly and in record time too. This Ensign’s capabilities caught the Admiral’s eye.

For the next several days, he tested the Ensign in anyway he could - physically, mentally, emotionally. He’d have him run laps, give him problems to solve, and yell at him when it seemed he didn’t do well enough. He just kept thinking to himself that, in the end, it would all help him on missions. This just pressed the young man to persevere. Instead of getting put down, he pulled himself up to be the best he could be. It seemed the Russian never grew tired or weary; he was always ready for action. He even performed the best of everyone during the practice missions; and Clark was certainly impressed - there was promise of a great leader in him.

However, it came at a cost: Chekov was so distracted by his work, goals, and dream, that he didn’t even notice his friends’ sufferings. He had no idea what Clark was really doing to them. He had no idea that they were so tired and miserable. He never noticed how slow everyone was moving. He never noticed the punishments. He never noticed the grumbling stomachs.

It was made clear to the Vulcan, doctor, communications officer, engineer, and helmsman that they would just have to wait for an angry Cadet because the navigator was not going to help. .

***

Soon, things started happening again. Starfleet assigned them a mission to help an entire race on a different planet - to transport cargo necessary for their survival across the galaxy. They’d even gotten into a couple space battles. Not that that last one was good, but it what could you do? Chekov did even better during this mission than he had during their practices. Clark had even taken him under his wing to train him. The Ensign was even close to going up a rank.

And he was happy. Chekov was finally happy. Missions made him happy. The kind of happy that made him want to sing. The kind of happy that lit up any darkness within him no matter what the source. The kind of happy that made you unaware of anything else going on around you. Then Clark told him that Cadet Kirk would train under him.

“Cadet?”

“Yes, Cadet. Stripped him of his position before I even beamed aboard!” He said with a laugh.

“But why? He’s -”

“Are you questioning me, Ensign?!”

“No, Admiral.”

“...Go get Kirk.”

***

Kirk’s door opened and Chekov stepped inside. It was dark; and trays - some empty, some still had untouched food - sat on the floor and furniture. There was Kirk, laying on his bed.

“...Cadet Kirk?” His eyes fell on the Ensign.

“Chekov?” He nodded and Jim sat up. His uniform was covered in sweat and wrinkled. It looked like he hadn’t changed it in days. He had a beard and his hair was spewed.

“What’s wrong with you? What happened?” He looked at him, such a different man than before. Chekov remembered a bold, brave Kirk - this one seemed frail and broken.

“Clark. He’s kept me here.”

“What?!” Jim nodded.

“I haven’t been allowed to leave. He said that I can’t be a Captain because there wasn’t enough work going on. He said that I endangered everyone’s lives.”

“He said that?”

“And he’s right.”

“No he’s not.” Chekov didn’t know what was happening. How could someone who had made his life so much better, be making this man’s life so much worse? “You’ve done so much good. You’ve never let any of us down. You protect us and aliens and -”

“Then why did Starfleet send him? Why is he torturing my crew?”

“Torturing?”

“He’s too hard on them. They’re exhausted, depressed, hungry.” Chekov stayed quiet, listening to the man. “If they don’t do exactly what he wants when he wants it, or if it’s not good enough, he punishes them.”

“...Are you sure?”

“I can hear the complaints through the wall.”

“Well, why don’t you do something about it?”

“Believe me, I want to. Badly. But I’m powerless. He’s an Admiral...and I’m just a Cadet.”

***

Chekov walked the corridors, pondering what Jim had said. Could it all be true? It couldn’t be, could it? He’d only seen an effective leader who pushed him to give more than he thought he could. He’d seen someone who could help him get to where he wanted to be. Someone who could help him help others. No, this couldn’t be Admiral Clark. It had to be someone else. Something else. And yet...

As he walked, he paid special attention to the people he passed. They were drooped over, dragging their feet, covered in sweat, mouths hanging in frowns. Some tried to massage their own muscles and grimaced at the feeling. Some had tears slowly falling down their faces. He heard growling stomachs. He saw darkness under, and in, their hopeless, bloodshot eyes. Anyone not too depleted to notice him immediately straightened up and moved faster. Despite the pain, the tears, the fatigue, the hunger, they fought to move quicker.

After watching this for an hour, he couldn’t deny it anymore. This had to be Clark - none of this would ever happen under Kirk’s command. But, he wasn’t sure he wanted to stand up to him. He offered him so much, but look what was happening to his friends. But he’d never been happier, but they had never been so miserable. And he was with Clark most of the time - he could do something; they couldn’t. But he was so close to being promoted. And even if he did do something, if he failed, his hopes would be destroyed and he’d end up just like them. Had it really come to this? Would he really have to choose between his dream and his friends? That’s when he heard faint voices coming from the Break Room. He placed his ear against the wall to get a better listen.

“Mr. Chekov has grown rather close to Admiral Clark,” Spock started. Yes, he thought on the other side of the wall. “If we can convince him to assist us in our endeavors, it could prove most useful.” Endeavors?

“Yeah he’s close. Too close to notice the rest of us commoners,” McCoy added.

“He hasn’t had a drink for me since before he got sick,” commented Scotty. “Hasn’t spoken to me since then either.”

“He hasn’t even looked at me,” said Uhura. “It’s like I don’t exist.”

“Face it; he’s either forgotten about us or he doesn’t care anymore.” It was Sulu who said it. “Pavel’s not gonna help us.” Chekov turned against the wall and slid down it, mouth agape. That conversation revealed a lot to him. He thought back to the state of those crewmen, to them running from him, then back to their talk again. They thought he chose Clark over them, and in a way he had. That tore it.

Ten minutes later the doors to the Break Room opened revealing Chekov and a sad Jim.

“We want to help,” the Russian said. The rest of them stared as McCoy pulled up a chair for Jim, who sat, and immediately began scanning him.

“He needs to eat. Now.” Scotty gave up his plate, but Jim wasn’t touching it.

“We want to help take down Clark.”

“Eat,” McCoy said to Jim. Still, no one even looked at Chekov.

“Please, I want to help! I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Uhura, still not making eye contact, was the first to speak.

“How do we know you haven’t been sent by Clark?”

“Aye; he could be a spy.”

“I wouldn’t have brought him then.” He said and pointed to Jim.

“That’s not good enough,” Uhura said, looking at the ex-Captain.

“Eat, Jim!” Jim stayed put, listening to the conversation as he stared at the floor. He hadn’t looked at the food since it was put in front of him.

“I was supposed to bring Kirk out of his Quarters earlier, but I left him.”

“You let him rot?!”

“No! I just -”

“If you don’t eat, I’m gonna have to force it down your throat!” Chekov paused and turned. He walked to Jim and knelt down to his height.

“Please eat.” The five watched as Chekov picked up a fork and held it out to Jim with such tenderness that he actually looked at it. “I’m sorry, Captain.” The Cadet looked up at Chekov.

“You want to help take him down?” He nodded.

"Yes, Sir.” Slowly, Kirk took the fork, and placed the piece of food into his mouth. The room was quiet when Sulu stood and made his way to the navigator. He looked at his face, down to his boots, and then up again. “I...think he’s telling the truth.” The Russian smiled as Sulu held out his hand toward him. “Will you help us, Pavel?”

“I will.” Sulu pulled him up as he smiled at him. “Do you have a plan?”

“Nothing yet, lad.”

“Unless Mr. Chekov has logically calculated a starting point for one.” They all looked at the young man, waiting for his answer.

“I think I have one, but we’ll all need to help.”

***

The next day, McCoy told the medical crew what was happening and Scotty told the engineers as Sulu, Uhura, and Chekov secretly told the rest of them. Jim stayed in his room to keep things from looking suspicious.

Clark knew something was up. Something had to be. Why all the whispers behind his back? When he yelled at anyone, they wouldn’t tell. When he took away food, they still wouldn’t tell. When he approached Chekov, he was assured that the Ensign was on it, trying to figure it out for himself too. He ran off before the superior officer could suspect him of anything. Clark practically interrogated Jim in his Quarters demanding answers, but the Cadet claimed he had no idea what he was talking about. He insisted he’d only left his room when Chekov took him out for training. This just brought with it a stream of insults: “You shouldn’t be here!” “You were the worst Captain the Federation has ever seen and you’re the worst Cadet too!” “All you’ll ever be is a Cadet! And you deserve even less than that!”

When he caught “Smith” fiddling with some wires behind a small door in the wall in the hall, he wouldn’t confess. He didn’t even show any fear toward the tyrant, but Clark pushed him away before he could finish his work and tried to figure it out himself; not letting the engineer back in. That was bad. Very bad. Scotty tried to run to Chekov and tell him to postpone the signal until he could finish with the wires to the Bridge screen, but it was too late. From over the intercom, he, and Clark, heard it.

“Freedom was invented in Russia.” On “freedom,” people exploded into the halls screaming, running, jumping. Some, including Bones, Sulu, and Uhura, surrounded Clark, slapping him on the back, prodding his sides, yelling playful things at him - the entire crew was doing everything he had banned. He turned in confusion, not knowing how to react. He tried to yell, remove the hands from his being (what were they trying to do?), but nothing produced the results he was looking for. In the confusion, Sulu slipped Clark’s phaser from his belt for safe keeping; and McCoy slammed the door shut, sealing off the wires and almost crushing the Admiral’s hand. He was completely helpless against them. He didn’t know what to do. As they forced him through the halls, he saw Spock, standing calmly, staring at him with one eyebrow up.

“Eyebrows! Pinch them!” He shouted as he gestured at the small crowd surrounding him.

“My name is Mr. Spock. I insist that you refer to me as such.” Already frustrated, Clark submitted to the Vulcan’s request.

“Fine, Mr. Spock! Pinch them!”

“No, Admiral. It is not logical to do so as they are not causing you direct, physical harm.” After answering to the Admiral, Spock walked away an another direction.

***

On the other side of the ship, Scotty ran trying to find Chekov to tell him what had happened, but he couldn’t find him through the chaos. There was so much screaming, jumping, tickling, running, playing that he couldn’t even identify where he was. He was lost in his own ship. It would be impossible to find Chekov like this, and too dangerous to try to fix the wires in the uproar. The best he could do was try to find a turbolift and get to the Bridge.

If he had succeeded with the wires, it would have created a simulation battle on the screen - Phase III. It would’ve shown a Romulan ship attacking the Enterprise and each person would play their parts as they would any other battle; but this battle would have been Kirk’s. No one was to listen to the old Admiral’s commands to prove once and for all that Kirk was a better Captain, and would be a better Admiral, than Clark ever would or could. And their victory would have been glorious.

After a performance like that, even if it was just a simulation, there was no way the Federation could refuse to give him his position back; especially after they all filed a detailed complaint about Clark which happened last night as Phase I.

But without the third phase, the entire plan would fall apart.

***

Jim emerged from his cave as the old Kirk. He’d changed his clothes, shaved, and was ready to fight. He let out a loud laugh as he ran down the halls. The people cheered the appearance of their soon-to-be-again Captain. As he ran, he heard a yell.

“Kirk! Call them off!” There was still a crowd surrounding him and leading him to different places on the ship. They were still jumping in the Admiral’s face, poking him, screaming, dancing - you name it, they were doing it.

“Sorry, Admiral,” he called back, “but I can’t control of them!...I’m just a Cadet!” He pointed at the doctor before he flew down the passageway, leaving Clark with the crowd.

“Phase Three!” Shouted McCoy and he and Uhura kept eyes open for a turbolift along the walls.

As Jim ran, he couldn’t believe the feeling of everything. Of being set free, of the defeat of Admiral Clark in a few minutes, of becoming Captain again, of getting the Enterprise back, of getting his crew back. Pure happiness shown through him like light through a bulb as people continued to cheer him over the screams.

“Spock!” The First Officer turned and saw someone running toward him.

“Captain!” Spock could not deny the gleam of happiness that radiated within him when he saw Kirk like that. Though his face didn’t show his true emotion, he did grab Kirk’s arm. Kirk looked around at the crew, unable to believe their plan was working. Unable to believe his own comeback. Unable to believe his eyes as he looked upon the beauty of their own controlled chaos.

“Isn’t this great,” he yelled over the other screams.

“A most logical means of defeat, Captain.” Kirk just smiled at his comment, the best comment he’d heard about himself since Clark got on their screen. Speaking of which...

“I’ll see you on the Bridge!” Kirk said and ran the other direction.

***

“Sir, look!” Ever since they were defeated, the Romulans searched for the Enterprise. Day and night they looked; never once was the screen unwatched. Never once was there an empty place at the scanner. Never once were their weapons left unguarded. The resentment they had for the Enterprise, and Kirk, only grew. “I think we found them.”

On their scanners lay a small dot. When they closed in on it, they could tell that, from its shape, it was a Starfleet vessel. When they zoomed in, the ship read “U.S.S. ENTERPRISE.” The Commander smiled to himself.

“Warp twelve,” he said. “Prepare the attack.” His First Officer stood immediately and went to their wall intercom, announcing that they had located the enemy.

“Battle stations. Wait for the Commander’s signal.” Throughout their ship, the aliens rushed to their positions, waiting for their leader’s word.

“How do you want to go in, Sir?”

“Cloak on. They will regret ever interfering with Romulan intentions.”

“Engine room,” said the First Officer.

“Engine room here.”

“Cloak on.”

“Cloaking on.” The next second, the ship suddenly blended in with the stars as it became invisible. The Commander chuckled with malice. “Ready or not, Kirk...here. I. Come.”

***

Chekov was on cloud nine as he pranced through the crowd and high-fived everyone who passed. Such a change had taken place. Not even twelve hours ago, these people feared him. They practically cowered before him as they stood up straight and pushed themselves even more beyond the human breaking point. He looked at them as they let loose in pride and thankfulness that they had accepted him as their friend again. Once it set in that they were going to finally be free, he felt so light that he thought he might start to float above the horde of wild people. Suddenly, he saw a yellow shirt in the midst of the party darting toward him.

“Captain! Can you believe it?”

“No I can’t, Mr. Chekov.” He put his hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said and pinched his side. Chekov jerked.”Sorry.” He said as he grinned at the Ensign. But that Ensign had a growing grin himself as he tackled Jim and rapidly poked his rib cage. He wriggled at the feeling but also from trying to avoid getting stepped on. His laughter was high and one of the loudest sounds on board.

The last time he tickled Jim was right after he yelled at him for tickling the crew. While Chekov still had mixed feelings about being tickled himself, he could tell Jim liked it and that he was probably secretly hoping that someone would get him back. So, why not get him back again after everything he’d been through? That being in mind, he dug into his belly and Jim immediately tried to make himself into a ball.

He backed off after a minute, not wanting to overwhelm him too much in their positions, and offered Jim a hand; but he got up on his own. That was when they saw Clark and McCoy, Sulu, and Uhura heading to a turbolift as the rest of their tiny crowd faded into the party. They both took off for the group and squeezed in the lift with them just before the doors shut.

As soon as the doors closed, that was when Clark struck. He swung his arms and kicked his legs to push his captors out. They tried to grab him, but he would send his fist swinging. And he had a perfect aim. Loyal to their true Captain - or in Kirk’s case, his crew - as soon as they hit the ground, they’d force themselves back up, only to dodge punches and eventually take another blow. Kirk went to kick him, but Clark grabbed his leg and threw him to the floor. He grabbed his phaser from Sulu and pointed it at all of them, forcing the officers to step down. Then he aimed it at Jim.

“You did this, Kirk! Call it off or I shoot.”

“He didn’t do it.” Chekov said and stepped in front of his Captain, shielding him from the weapon. “I did.”

“You?” The Ensign stayed silent as he stood his ground and refused to get out of the way of fire.

“Chekov,” Kirk said.

“After all I’ve done for you. How close you were to getting promoted...You could have made a great leader,” he said not breaking eye contact with the young man. “Too bad I’m a better one.” He pulled the trigger and Chekov fell in a heap onto his Captain, unconscious. Jim watched his eyes close. When he looked up, he was met with the phaser a few inches from his face. The turbolift doors opened, revealing Spock at his post.

“Sir -”

“Quiet, Eyebrows!” He turned back to the others and waved his weapon toward the Bridge. “Go on.” One by one they left the lift as Clark followed. McCoy carried Chekov out, placed him on the floor, and bent over him to try to shield him as the doors closed again. He hadn’t brought any of his equipment, this was the best the doctor could do. The Admiral pointed the phaser at all of them, including Spock. “I am an Admiral! I will not lose command! You will obey m-”

Suddenly, the ship was blown back, sending all personnel flying through the air and crashing into everything and each other. Cheering in the halls at the launch of Phase III, the crewmen started getting to their stations to make this as real as possible. On the Bridge, the blast threw the phaser from Clark’s hand, and Kirk quickly scooped it up and held it at him.

“Stay right where you are. That’s an order.” As the doors opened, Scotty ran from the lift and onto the Bridge.

“I couldn’t fix the wires in time before this baboon got to ‘em!” Everyone on the Bridge scrambled to their stations, except McCoy who held the Russian in place and used his hand to cradle the back of his head as he shielded him further. Kirk immediately got to his chair and pushed the button, still aiming the phaser at Clark who didn’t dare move.

“Red Alert. Condition Red Alert. Battle stations. This is not a drill. This is not a simulation. I repeat: this is not a simulation.” The fun in the halls stopped right then and there at that last part. The siren sounded as they all ran the rest of the way to their stations, preparing themselves for a real fight. Another blast sent them flying, but they kept going because now they had two things on the line: Kirk and their lives.

“Uhura, screen up.”

“Yes, Sir.” The Romulan Commander appeared on the screen. He stared at the Bridge crew and noticed Clark staring back as he was held in place by Kirk and his phaser.

“Have a hostage, Kirk?”

“What are you doing to my ship? We haven’t attacked.”

“You’re ship?!” Clark cried.

“But you have, Captain,” the alien started. “You interfered with Romulan intentions.”

“You were going to destroy those people.”

“Not people, Captain. Enemies. And now you fit that category.”

“You saw what our weapons are capable of. We don’t want to have to use them again. If you know what’s good for you, you will cease fire and leave this part of the galaxy. Now.”

“There will be a different outcome this time. You are Romulan enemies; you must die. Goodbye...Captain Kirk.” It was then that the Enterprise took another hit, sending the ship back as the lights flickered.

“Kirk!” Admiral Clark yelled.

“Scotty, damage report.”

“We’ve got some damage to the shields.”

“Bones, how’s Chekov?”

“Alright so far. As good as he can be for someone who just got stunned.” He said glaring at the older man.

“Anything on the scanner, Spock?”

“Nothing yet, Sir.” Another hit.

“What do you mean ‘nothing yet’?! Where are they?! I want them found now!”

“Admiral, if you would be so kind as to shut up.” Kirk said looking at him, phaser still pointed.

“More damage to the shields.”

“Re-calibrate the scanner, Mr. Spock,” Kirk said

“What?!” Kirk nodded at Spock who turned back to his scanner and readjusted its settings.

“Sir, I am picking up on Romulan lifeforms.”

“Mr. Sulu, aim and ready phasers.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“On my word,” Kirk said.

“Now! Fire now!”

“Hold your position, Sulu.”

“Kirk, if you want to stay in Starfleet-”

“Fire!” Their lasers jetted out into the stars and made contact. The Romulans held onto whatever they could grab for dear life as their vessel shook.

“Hit,” Sulu cheered.

“Lucky shot.”

“Scotty, warp eight.”

“Aye, Sir.”

“Sulu, port.”

“Helmsman! Go starboard!” The ship started moving left as the Romulans fired again, missing the beams.

“Fire!”

As the Romulans underwent another blow, pieces of their ship began to fall off the walls and ceiling. Engines and equipment damaged, their lights flashed on and off, and they endured injuries. A fatal hit broke their cloaking device, leaving them exposed, completely out in the open.

“Commander,” said a Romulan, “we can’t take much more.”

“Fire,” their Commander yelled. They blasted their rays at full power, completely taking out the Enterprise’s shields.

“Shields out,” Scotty yelled. “One engine out. Damage to the matter-antimatter unit. Lads in engineering are trying to fix it, but that unit’s sensitive -”

“The point, Mr. Scott!”

“One more hit from them and we’ll blow up.”

“Drop the phaser, Kirk! If I don’t take command now we’ll all die!” Kirk adjusted his aim, bringing the phaser even closer to Clark.

“Don’t you move. Mr. Sulu, on my count. Scotty, prepare warp twelve.”

“I don’t know if she can -”

“She has to!” Kirk said, watching the other ship as it approached. “Ready...now!” He shouted as Clark yelled “No!” At the exact same moment, both ships fired. The beams parallel to each other and so close that it almost seemed that their colors mixed into one. “Go, Sulu!” The helmsman pulled up, just barely out of the laser’s range. The other suffered a full blast.

The inside of the Romulan ship began to burn, the walls and ceiling continued to fall apart from irreversible damage, and the Romulans had no way of fighting back. One more attack from Kirk would surely destroy them..if their ship could hold out that long.

“Scotty. Go down to the Transporter Room with a full security team. I want the Romulans beamed aboard.”

“Yes, Sir,” he said getting up and into the turbolift. As soon as the doors closed, Kirk looked back at the screen and the collapsing ship. Clark took the opportunity and tackled Kirk. The others stood to attack the Admiral, but Kirk called them off, ordering that they stay at their posts. On the floor the two wrestled, rolling on top of each other, each one struggling to get the upper hand.

***

In the Transporter Room, Scotty beamed the Romulan crew aboard as fast as they could be. He had his censors locked on the ship, but they were all moving inside, trying to avoid the fires and falling metal. And boy it was hard to hit a moving target. A few at a time they were beamed up, until only the Commander was left.

“Sir,” a Red Shirt at the scanner said. “We have ten seconds before that ship falls apart completely.”

“Then we better get ‘im up in nine.”

“Eight.” Scotty tried to get his coordinates locked on their target, but he kept moving. “Seven.”

“Hold still!”

“Six.” He made a sharp turn. “Five.” He sped up. “Four.” He turned around. “Three.” He slowed down again. ��Two.”

“C’mon!”

“One.” The ship broke down and was now just bits and pieces floating through space.

***

Kirk received a punch in the head, sending him down. Clark took his phaser back, once again, and aimed it at the young Cadet’s head.

“You’re a fool, Kirk,” he said. “A fool to bring Romulans aboard, and a fool to think that you could outdo me. That win was lucky, but...your luck has run out.”

“Sir, screen -”

“Bring it up,” Clark yelled. Uhura looked at Kirk who nodded. She smiled, for she knew something Clark didn’t.

“Yes, Admiral.”

“Clark!” A man with white hair in a red, shiny uniform, decorated with his insignia and six medals, yelled on the screen. Clark looked up and his jaw dropped. It was the highest man in the Federation, Fleet Admiral Jones.

“I think you’ll see, Admiral,” Kirk said with a smirk, “that my luck hasn’t run out.”

“Care to explain why when I send you to take command and retrain Kirk, I get over four hundred detailed complaints calling you a dictator and tyrant at three o’clock in the morning?! And how about why you have a phaser at Kirk’s head!” He retracted the weapon and continued to stare, speechless, at the screen.

“He also intentionally stunned one of my men when not under any direct threat or attack,” Kirk added and pointed to Chekov. That got Clark to speak up.

“That’s a lie!”

“Well,” said Jones. “Let’s ask the Vulcan. Vulcans can’t lie, is that correct?”

“That is correct,” said Spock. “As is Kirk’s claim.”

“Dr. McCoy, take Chekov down to Sickbay and let me know of any injuries sustained during the fight.” McCoy nodded and took Chekov, still unconscious, out.

“What fight?” Jones asked.

“Moments after Clark attacked Ensign Pavel Chekov, Fleet Admiral, we had a little issue with some Romulans. I took over Command and he tried to deflect the orders I gave to my crew.”

“That’s a lie too! I led us to victory!” The doors to the turbo lift opened to reveal Scotty, three Security Officers, and the Romulan Commander.

“He insisted that he see you, Sir,” said Scotty.

“You may have won today, Kirk. You may have destroyed my ship,” he began. “But this is not the end. We will be back to take our vengeance -”

“Gentleman, would you please escort our guest to the Brig along with the rest of the Romulans?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Sir?” Scotty asked.

“You can stay, Scotty.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to miss this.”

“Actually, Mr. Scott,” the man on the screen said. “I will have to ask you to bring Admiral Clark to the Transporter Room and beam him into my office.” He said eyeing the older man. Scotty wore the biggest grin he could muster.

“It would be my pleasure, Fleet Admiral.”

“And of course if he tries anything, you will be sure to notify me.”

“Aye, Sir.” He turned to Clark. “After you...Admiral.” They both disappeared behind the turbolift’s doors.

“I’m sorry you all had to put up with him; believe me, there will be punishment.” Kirk only just managed to not smile at the beautiful irony. “And Kirk, I believe you’ve earned the privilege of command again.”

“Thank you, Fleet Admiral.”

“Jones out.” The screen went black and there was a silence on the Bridge. Kirk pushed the button on his chair.

“Attention Enterprise, this is your Captain speaking...mission accomplished.” There was a collective cheering throughout the ship at the official return of their Captain. Many of them had never felt this kind of happiness before - the happiness of freedom after a long imprisonment. Scotty chuckled at the excited screaming.

“‘Tis a beautiful sound, is it not?” He asked and waved as he personally beamed Admiral Clark off his ship.

***

The Sickbay was quiet as Chekov woke, his friends waiting at his bed. Upon seeing them, he sat up.

“How’re you feeling?” Kirk asked.

“Fine, Captain.”

“You took quite a tumble there, Mr. Chekov,” said Bones.

“What happened?”

“When we all got in the turbolift, Clark starting attacking us,” started Uhura.

“We tried to fight back, but Clark took the phaser off me.”

“He held it at the Captain and said that he did it,” Bones said. “Threatened to shoot ‘im if the whole thing wasn’t called off.”

“Then you stepped between Clark and myself and confessed that it was you. After that, he stunned you.”

“That two-faced, egoistic, rat! When I see him I’ll -”

“Then it is most fortunate, Mr. Chekov, that none of us will be forced to endure his presence any longer.”

“Aye.” Chekov jerked his head toward Kirk.

“We won?” Kirk grinned.

“Freedom really was invented in Russia.” Chekov planted his fist in the air as he let out a breathy laugh and fell back onto the bed. “It didn’t go exactly as we planned, but we won. Thank you, Chekov...for everything.”

“Aye, lad. You were a real hero and if it wasn’t for you, he’d still be here!”

“Hear, hear.” Bones said as he poured seven glasses of brandy and started passing them out. “A toast.”

“To Chekov,” Kirk said.

“To Chekov, I’m sorry I doubted you ” Sulu agreed.

“And to having that Clark out of our hair,” Uhura said relieved.

“I’ll drink to that one too,” said Scotty.

“And to our Captain,” Chekov said.

“Vulcans do not partake in the consumption of alcohol. However, I will honor these accomplishments.“ They clinked their glasses and each took a drink as they sat there talking, laughing, and relishing their freedom.

After an hour of celebrating in Sickbay, Chekov, Uhura, Sulu, and Scotty decided to turn in for the night and walk back to their individual Quarters together. Chekov’s was last but as soon as the doors opened, he felt complete bliss. He sighed to himself and jumped into bed; he was more than ready to rest and get back to work tomorrow to make even more positive differences. And as Chekov heard laughter coming from the hall, he smiled to himself because he knew everything was good.

[theruinedand-lost]

Masterlist

Started: 12/18/2019

Last updated: 09/24/2020

Total works: 16

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter

Fix You (I_OfTheHawk)

Word count: 3,649, Summary:  All in all, Draco Malfoy is not adjusting after the war, but he’s trying his best. He’s made a friend in the most unlikely of place, and he has his mother. When a tragic accident happens Draco is pushed over the edge that he has been teetering on.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain (Faith Wood) 

Word count: 21,139, Summary: It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that's ever so cross.

The Light More Beautiful (firethesound) 

Word Count: 81,255, Summary:  Thirteen years after Draco accepts Potter's help escaping the horror of his sixth year, he returns to England where he makes the unfortunate discovery that Potter is still as obnoxious as ever. And worse, more than a decade overseas hasn't been enough to dim Draco's obsession with him.

Lord of the Rings

Gen/multi

Walking wounded (mirrordance)

Word count: 24,552, Summary: Danger does not stop for grief or injury. For Legolas, there is no rest, respite, or relief on the seemingly endless road between Moria and Lothlorien. He, with the Fellowship he has sworn to serve, has no choice but to move forward, hurting and heartbroken.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians 

Gen/multi

When the Smoke Cleared (Nilly’s Issue)

Word count: 5,877, Summary:  A semi-monster hunt goes wrong and Thalia is forced to deal with a concussed Percy. Along the way, she learns a few things. Set between Sea of Monsters and Titan's Curse. [Warning: very subtle Percabeth]

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington/Billy Hargrove

Of fists and firsts (ohmybgosh)

Word count: 2,468, Summary:  Will witnesses a moment between Steve and Billy. 

Ocean Child (flippyspoon)

Word count: 4,528, Summary:  “I’m Steve’s friend,” Billy said, pulling out into the road. “I’m Billy.” 

“I’ve never met you,” Erica said, scowling. 

“Yeah well, we don’t travel in the same social circles.” Billy wanted a cigarette. 

“You look like a criminal,” Erica said. 

The Sound of Breathing (aerials)

Word count: 3,832, Summary:  Steve was someone Billy allowed into his head and in the long run his god damn heart. And Billy would swear that he didn't love, that he was incapable of feeling something that had never been expressed toward him, or even taught, but how could he ignore that sense of longing and the way Steve crowded his thoughts at 3am when he couldn't sleep. 

Billy Hargrove Sucks (flippyspoon)

Word count: 7,871, Summary: Hopper puts Steve in charge of sobering up a wasted Billy Hargrove one afternoon and suddenly things start to make sense. Until they really don't.

Star Trek

Jim Kirk/Leonard “Bones” McCoy

The inherent dangers of coffee dates (MourningElegance)

Word count: 2,476, Summary: Oh fuck, Jim thinks to himself, eyes widening with sudden realization. He eyes the coffee cup in his hand, noticing the telltale hives beginning to peek out from his shirt sleeves. Fucking allergies -- -Of course James Kirk would go into full blown anaphylaxis in a crowded Starbucks. Lucky for him, the cute stranger he just met seems to know an awful lot about medical emergencies...

Jim Kirk/Spock

The Gravity of Never Letting Go (notfreyja)

Word count: 20,230, Summary: After George dies and the Kelvin is destroyed, Winona is left out in the black with a newborn and a choice: go home, or run away from her problems. The consequence for her decision go beyond anything she could have imagined.

Accustomed to slightly lower then natural gravity aboard Federation vessels, an extended stay on Earth is a death sentence for Jim. But he's not going to let that stop him.

Mother, Why (iknewaman)

Word count: 5,892, Summary:  The amount of things Spock would put up with for his mother was disconcerting. Like partaking in a social engagement she had predetermined for him and an unknown potential romantic interest.

A blind date. Spock’s mother had set him up on a blind date.

Paper cuts (espressohno)

Word count: 20,439, Summary: It was just one big, happy, drunk (except for Jim), family. Which was an ironic statement, because their family consisted of a recovering alcoholic, a college student who could hardly speak English, a vandal with a Master’s degree, a business owner who should be a model, a Vulcan who makes coffee instead of algorithms, and a maintenance man with a Scottish accent whose name they had just learned an hour ago.But it felt like family, and it felt like Christmas, and it was the exact opposite of why Jim had started drinking in the first place.

The Mystery Lay (noodleinabarrel) 

Word count: 2,324, Summary:  After having the best lay of his life on the couch of the sleazy club he bartends at, Jim comes home starry-eyed. Bones, however, couldn't give a shit about his roommate's swooning. All he cares about is his half-made guacamole and the avocado Jim promised to buy, but conveniently lost when his mystery man accidentally stole his jacket.

Star Wars

Gen, Multi

Precipice (shadowsong26)

Word count: 211,814, Summary:  An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

Poe Dameron/Finn

Burnout (aslipperysloth) 

Word count: 6,262, Summary: Poe crash-lands and is trapped in his X-wing. Finn won't let him go out alone, of course. Not if he can help it.“Keep listening and talking, you’re doing really good.”

Young Justice/Batman (All types of Media) 

Gen/Multi

Stay with me (Cause you’re all I need) (I_OfTheHawk) 

Word count: 2,891, Summary: Pain.

Pain was the first thing he felt and suddenly he was aware of everything. Tim was leaning over him, hands covering something on his chest. He groaned. He tried looking around but everything was so heavy. The weight in his chest blossomed into something unbearable and he tried to grab Tim’s - no Red Robin’s - wrist and push it off. You’re hurting me

[psicygni]

It's 2022 in the Another Shot universe. What are McCoy, and Harold (ok, fine, Spock) and Jim and Nyota up to? :)

OH GOSH are you truly ready, my friend??

(for you kids in the back who want to follow along, read it here!)

Post that phone call at the end (spoiler alert, they talked for 2 hours up until the flight attendant was leaning over McCoy telling him to shut his damn phone off, sir, thank you (whatever, the fact he and spock were still talking helped him forget he was about to fly in the air) (spock was freezing in that park and both wanted to die and also to never hang up)), they had a very tenuous and sassy relationship of snark-filled texts that came in waves of either a bunch in the course of a single day or nothing for a week… a week they each spent convinced the other one had grown bored, moved on, met someone, etc etc, with lots of checking their phone even though they knew nothing was there, and forlornly scrolling back through previous texts and attempting to figure out a suitably casual message to send that properly conveyed: I want to spend my entire day talking to you but I don’t actually want you to know that.

McCoy is utterly sure Spock is banging several dozen dudes (he’s not).  Spock is utterly sure McCoy has found someone - anyone - better than him and as is only reasonable, has moved on to fairer pastures (he hasn’t).  Both of them are entirely frustrated they can’t even begin to forget about the handful of hours they spent together over the course of two days and torture themselves by continuing to keep in contact instead of cutting ties like they tell themselves they should.  Do they talk on the phone?  Maybe.  If they do, do their conversations last for hours? Definitely.  Is it more intensely personal than most conversations they have with anyone else in their life? You bet your butt it is.  Does it happen often?  Not nearly as often as either of them would be down for.  Is the entire conversation 90% sarcasm? 99% would be more accurate.

Queue: McCoy moving to SF, as we all knew he would.  Things that happen include:

Waiting until awkwardly the last minute to let Spock know he’s heading out there

Interviewing for jobs during which Spock attempts (and fails) to not ogle McCoy in a suit

They have no idea where they stand with each other and solve their feelings of discomfort by both being enormous assholes who throw lingering stares across the room

McCoy finds a job.  Then, he finds a place to live (let’s have him staying with Jim for the interim because he’s not quite able to ask Spock if he can bang his brains out crash with him).  He’s convinced himself that Spock is definitely getting some on the reg. and doesn’t want McCoy in the picture.  Spock’s sure that if McCoy wanted anything with him, he’d have said literally anything to indicate that.

(In the meantime while they are busy getting in their own way, things that occur are 1) Spock finds out McCoy is not just a doctor but he’s a Doctor and kind of a Big Deal in the medicine world (which I know nothing about so just nod along with me here) and hospitals are falling over themselves to have him which makes everything so much worse for Spock because um, can you say hot single doctor?? 2) McCoy finds out that everyone joking about Spock being a genius is not a joke at all and is uncomfortable in the pants region every time Spock starts talking, 3) they spend an Unfortunate Amount of Time together because both are determined to be absolutely and utterly casual and are both winning their private game of caring less and what better way to do that than be absolutely blasé that the other one is hanging around).

And then, of course, their carefully constructed ~thing~ crashes and burns and if it’s weird I have so many head canons for my own story I don’t want to know it, because the thing that happens is: innocuous hang out of the entire gang at McCoy’s (are they helping him move? New couch? Something like that? Maybe.), Jim orders pizza, filches Spock’s wallet to pay for it, and of course doesn’t hand it back, so several hours later, the scene is: mccoy finding spocko’s wallet, Spock elsewhere in the city patting his pockets and very logically cursing Jim Kirk, and McCoy texting him to come back and get it ONLY TO REALIZE that he could have just dropped it at the cafe in the morning, and Spock literally jetting back across the city slowly realizing the same thing. Spock protests he didn’t mean to leave it behind. McCoy is too busy trying to be super casual about the fact that they’re actually alone. together. in private. 

They talk. They snark. They flirt. They bang. The end. 

Just kidding, defo not the end. They have a several month adventure in poor communication but excellent sex, in which they spend copious amounts of time together but never quite manage to talk about what they’re really doing even though clearly, to anyone except these two dumb butts, they’re in love and dating. There are late night talks, early morning talks, half living out of each other’s apartments, shared food in fridges, fights about who gets the left over take out food, Spock making coffee for mccoy at all hour of the night and day due to his complicated work schedule at the hospital, mccoy bumming around the cafe waiting for Spock to get off work finally, cooking together, stealing each other’s socks, and mccoy declaring Spock had better get a bigger couch because seriously Spock, find somewhere for your knee to be that isn’t jabbing into my knee. 

And then at some point they get over themselves.  How?  Unclear.  Possibilities include

A discussion about condom use, STIs, and if you’re not bumping uglies with anyone else, and if I’m not… then we could get tested… and stop using condoms… and if we continued to not take any rolls in the hay with anyone other than each other we could continue to not use condoms… and then it’d be like we’re exclusive… and committed… right. k. logical, probably.

Spock gets hit by a car.  I don’t know why I have to be so dramatic about everything.  But, still.  McCoy working in the ER.  Spock biking around the city to his heart’s content.  It’s such prime fodder for someone bursting in (chapel, let’s be real, it’s chapel) and yelling ‘mccoy your boyfriend’s here!’ and he’s all ‘hahah i don’t have a boyfriend! that guy? who i kind of love? he’s not, gosh, he’s not my boyfriend, we only are practically living together hahaha what no, no no no’ and then 180s it when he realizes it’s actual Spock and there’s obviously an entire hurt/comfort fic in here and McCoy is Distraught at the thought of losing Spock and Spock is like oh my god I’m fine ok sure let’s hug oh ok this is nice

Then, they finally really date.  

They have one terrible fight in which McCoy is on Spock’s case to get a Real Job because he could do literally anything with that brain of his and pouring coffee? Really? Which sounds an unfortunate amount like Sarek and Spock is like wow, you’re a huge asshole which only confirms mccoy’s greatest fear that anything good in his life he’ll end up ruining, while meanwhile Spock managed to not hear McCoy wishing the best for him and all he can get out of his life, but that McCoy doesn’t think he’s good enough.  There’s an awful spell of time in which they are on the outs and are sure the other is about to break up with them - or worse, they should be the one to end it because the other can do so much better - only to have a sassy and tearful reunion.

And then they move in together and it’s the first place that’s felt like home for either of them in approximately forever and they buy a fantastic mattress after spending three weeks arguing about which one to get, the actual end, goodbye.

Jim and Nyota are in love.  Except Jim is the only one who can admit it to himself.  Nyota is still trying to sort out that stomach thing she gets around him and is Horrified that it might be what she thinks it is.  They spend entirely too much time together cause their best friends are constantly making out with each other’s faces.  Nyota knows Jim is into her and is slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, if she doesn’t come around to the idea of him and her, he’s not going to stick around forever waiting, so her life is edging precipitously closer to a reality in which she actually does something about Jim Kirk and she’s terrified and exasperated at the fact that of literally anyone she could be with, her dumb boss is the only one she could possibly see herself with and both hates that fact and is learning to be ok with it.

Demora works at the cafe all through high school.  She’s constantly mortified by the antics of the grownups around her.

The actual end.  

[scarletevolution-blog]

Star Trek Beyond: The Lost Years

Okay, this is my first ever post on tumblr, and I’m perhaps a little terrified, but I’ve decided to suck it up and post this, because it’s about five months too late already.

Let’s talk about Star Trek Beyond. I know, I know, it’s been AGES, but shhh, I’m lazy. When I first watched this movie, I enjoyed it, but came out at the end feeling like something was wrong with the start of the movie, and that was the interactions between Spock and Kirk. They hardly spoke with one another for the first few minutes, and that elevator conversation (‘You go first.’ ‘No, you go first.’) was honestly very cringe-worthy… then they were separated for the next half an hour of the movie! It threw me, because I didn’t understand what was wrong. They were awkward, painfully polite, and their relationship as well as personalities  were pale shadows of the past two movies. I was confused, and a little hurt. Had something happened? If so, why didn’t they tell us what it was?

But then. I realised. This had happened before.

At the start of The Motion Picture, Spock’s on Vulcan getting all Kolinahr’d up (and hopefully getting a haircut too, I mean wow.) Kirk is an Admiral and a cold-hearted bastard to boot. We never get told why, or what happened, or anything really. According to Spirk-lore, this is because, somewhere near the end of the five year mission, Kirk makes his move, Spock rejects him because ‘AAAH! Feelings!’ and goes off to try get rid of his deep love for Kirk, while Kirk accepts the Admiralty and literally becomes a zombie for the next couple of years.

(I advise you read The Lost Years meta by bigmamag, because it is the inspiration for this meta and honestly just one of the most well-reasoned pieces of speculation (well, canon in my mind) that I have ever read.)

Y’know what happens in Beyond? Yeah, that’s right, we see Kirk about to go accept an Admiralty, and we see Spock ready to bugger off to New Vulcan, ostensibly to get bonded to someone he can live with but never love, and have logical babies, but he most likely also wants to undergo Kolinahr while he’s at it. This, my friends, is the start of The Lost Years, AOS style.

One of the great things about AOS is it fills in all the gaps that TOS left behind, in its own alternate kind of way. STIX shows Kirk and Spock’s ‘origin stories’ as it were, as well as showing how the badass crew of the Enterprise got to be badass together. ST:ID very quickly touches on their first long-term mission together, but of course the whole Khan (KHAAAAN!) thing happens because alternate-universe. We find out in Beyond that there’s a three year gap between it and Into Darkness - those three years, of course, more or less following the events of TOS.

Of course, Beyond does not confirm The Lost Years theory, mostly because ‘They’re completely hetero! Straight as a ruler!’ (what ruler are they talking about, a flexi one?) But if you read between the lines, something else is definitely going on. Obviously it’s not the same as what happened in TOS, but it’s similar. Personally, I believe that Spock realized that he was 100% pure Kirk-loving trash, and decided to go to New Vulcan because being that in love with someone is terrifying. He tells Uhura that he wants to go and help rebuild the Vulcan population, but doesn’t tell her why. Which obviously leads to her breaking up with him - which he full-well knew would happen, sneaky bastard, but I guess it’s considerably nicer than ‘Hey I’ve actually been in love with the Captain for the last few years but continued dating you anyway lolz.’

Kirk hears about the break-up, but not that Spock’s about to disappear, because Spock is somewhat reluctant to hurt the love of his life by telling him he’s leaving. So Kirk decides that this is the perfect time to ask Spock if maybe he’d like to grab a replicated coffee sometime…? Spock panics, and says no. Still not knowing about Spock’s plans, Kirk, heart-broken and lost, decides to take the first chance he gets to leave, and applies to be an Admiral at Starbase Yorktown. Of course, he doesn’t tell Spock that he’s going to leave, because Kirk is somewhat reluctant to hurt the love of his life by telling him he’s leaving.

But, since the story cannot end there, Krall turns up to provide the main plot, and after an incredibly painful scene of the Enterprise being ripped apart, the Enterprise crew is scattered. Spock and McCoy get beamed back to Jaylah’s ship, and Kirk is appropriately worried for Spock’s safety (confession time: I cried to see Spock’s injury.) So there’s some adorable-ness to be found in Kirk gently lowering Spock to the couch (???) while hissing at Bones to heal him. Sadly, it doesn’t last long, and once Spock is all bandaged up, they make a plan to go save their crew. Spock decides to go along to rescue Uhura especially, cue (ex-)girlfriend jokes from everybody except Kirk - just pointing it out.

Other stuff happens, ‘Sabotage’ nearly sabotages my eardrums, Kirk saves the day and almost dies, but Spock saves him. Altogether now, ‘Awwwww!’ 

Kirk ends up turning down the Admiralty, and Spock ends up not going off to become an unemotional dad, so that’s good, and also another deviation from TOS. I think that this could have interesting connotations for us Spirk shippers… no extra two years of sad pining. Also, before I go, Spock and Uhura were never explicitly stated to be back together by the end of this movie, so I shall headcanon that they agreed to stay separated until canon tells me otherwise. Yes, she was still wearing the necklace, and yes she calls Spock ‘You old romantic.’ but a) Spock was letting her keep the necklace either way, and b) I will die before I admit that it was anything other than friendly teasing.

Anyway, I hope this meta got some minds reeling, or at least sounds somewhat plausible.

[kinetic-elaboration]

February 7: 3x18 The Lights of Zetar

Continued my TOS rewatch yesterday at its new time, Sunday night. It’s a bit late to be making a summary post but I’m going to do it anyway, as it might be faster than trying to come up with another topic.

This episode was... good... I didn’t like it as much as I wanted to I suppose, like I don’t know why I didn’t enjoy it more. Solid, but not classic? I do think it only got really good in the last maybe 20 minutes. Also, while I enjoyed today’s Guest Officer, I didn’t think the episode used her well enough.

Memory Alpha! So that’s where the database gets its name. I always thought it was just... like made up for the wiki itself? I don’t know. Now every time they say it, I think “oh like the website.”

I love that today’s mission is ‘go to the library.’

Oh, Scotty’s in love again, I see?

“When a man of Scotty’s years falls in love...” Ouch, unnecessary burn there.

Also why is Kirk discussing any of this in his Captain’s log? It sounds like he’s projecting. “His loneliness was revealed to him... He could talk only to the ship; now he can see nothing but the woman.”

Chekov and Sulu gossiping again.

Could these be the lights of Zetar? (If not, this episode is poorly named.)

I think this is another ‘lady scientist is seduced by alien’ plot? (I was half-right about this.) This reminds me of Where No Man Has Gone Before: something weird attacks the bridge, affects everyone a little, and one person a lot, and that person becomes a Problem. (I was 100% right about this.)

Oh McCoy and his stimulants.

Everyone coming to Kirk with their complaints--oh my hand, oh my eyes--yeah, yeah.

Oh, Kirk and his “Spock, explain.”

“All of you are accustomed to new experiences. It’s part of your work.” Well, true, she has them there.

This whole scene makes me really uncomfortable: all the men standing around the woman and talking about her almost as if she weren’t there.

I don’t know if I really get that rationale for there being no shields on the library... (Nor does Kirk.) Like, first of all, something random like an asteroid or something could come by and you’d need to protect yourself from that. And second, just because the information is free for anyone to use doesn’t mean a malevolent actor wouldn’t try to destroy it, so that no one can have it. I mean everything in my library is free except the printing and people still steal.

Kirk’s not interested in this little love story. How is he supposed to deal with a crisis when all his senior officers keep moving about? “Is the doctor there with you or will I find him in engineering?”

This is giving me anxiety.... all the library knowledge gone... all the library patrons dead...

The “technician”--I think you mean the librarian lol.

“It’s probably seeking other victims”--excellent analysis Spock, what do you think you are?

(I know it already passed by them once but like you don’t know what its purpose is--maybe it wants to kill again.)

Oooh, Captain Sulu.

“The elusive creature.”

I think Spock is very interested in all of this.

Was Scotty not on the ship during the Gary Mitchell adventure? He’s like ‘oh, you’re seeing visions of the future? No big deal!’ It’s a big deal, Scotty!

“How to explain these feelings of terror?” / “Space!” Very helpful. “Don’t worry, lass, everything about your current environment is objectively terrifying!”

I can’t believe they still can’t cure a cold in the utopian 23rd century future.

Or they can and Scotty was insulting McCoy specifically.

The ship is responsibly maintaining its social distance.

“What are they?” Bum bum bum! (Literally, that is the soundtrack here.)

A “community of life units.” This is accurate and scientific-sounding but also just kinda funny and fun to say.

Kirk’s first method of attack is the good ol’ charm / undying optimism. He always thinks so well of the aliens. “Um excuse us, you seem to be hurting us, probably accidentally, maybe you could stop?”

And when that doesn’t work--the guns.

Spock looks so dramatic in this shot.

Turning on the torpedoes is a real mixed message from the “we come in peace” of two minutes ago.

Spock keeps migrating to Kirk’s side. One thing I appreciate about this episode is that it has a S1-ish K/S feel: they’re always exchanging info and theories and consulting with each other and... compulsively standing near each other.

I wish they’d stop referring to her as the girl!!

“I trust all you implicitly SCOTTY.” Well tell us how you really feel about it.

I know Kirk just gave that big speech about how they’re all friends here and this isn’t an interrogation--but they really do all seem to be arrayed against her.

Martian Colony III!! That’s exciting. I love when humans are born places that aren’t Earth.

Lol I think Scotty reminds her of her dad, the engineer.

I feel like Kirk is thinking of Gary here. Like, she didn’t tell anyone about all these premonitions, because Scotty told her not to. Other than her prediction about the ship, when she came down to Memory Alpha, Kirk doesn’t have much reason to think she’s got this supernatural power and/or alien connection.. I think he’s drawing from his prior experience. Maybe I’m just not following the plot well enough but that’s how I see it.

These computer designs are so soothing, with their lights and their beeping.

McCoy tells Kirk that there can be no error in the computer’s calculations and Kirk immediately turns around and asks Spock to make double-extra sure.

“Their thoughts...are becoming hers.” Creepy.

Wow, she is really not going to get to talk at all in this scene, is she?

Okay, never mind, but it did take an awful long time. Also, this part with Scotty is cute. His optimism and the little sorta-hug. It really is a little love story, awwwww.

That was a very Shatnerian speech, I won’t even lie: “If we can... CONTROL... that moment we have a chance.”

Scotty’s holding her arm like she’s a lady and Kirk’s holding it like she’s a prisoner.

I want the lights of Zetar to be my new screensaver. I like how they just flicker across the screen.

Is that the tube thing where Khan tried to kill Kirk? And they’re gonna... put her in it?

Okay, okay, the story’s picking up.

Ah, “non-corporeal aliens from a dead planet looking to take over a new body to live again”--a classic scenario.

This is basically Return to Tomorrow but the aliens are aggressive.

“The price of your survival is too high,” Kirk has declared.

“You’re entitled to your own life but not another’s.”

I don’t know why I find it so funny that Spock has spent this entire scene just chilling in the background by the computer making occasional dire pronouncements, but I really, really do.

Stop calling her the girl!

Pressurize the unit... Ominous.

I’m not sure what the idea of this plan is.... are they trying to squeeze the alien out of her?

Okay, so it was successful I guess? But...where did the aliens go? Were they crushed to death?

And now a classic Triumvirate Discusses the Plot/Theme finale. I feel like it’s been a while! Now that the danger has passed, Kirk can relax and examine the love story angle of all this. Here are Spock and McCoy talking about the “ego structure” or whatever, and Kirk’s like “But what if she survived because of true love though???”

Spock, pretending to be skeptical: “You mean love as motivation? Hmmm, can't imagine anything like that. Can't imagine ever being motivated by love. What would that be like? I don't know. Weird. Impossible to fathom. Love, huh, humans, love...."

“[Scotty, McCoy, and Spock all agree on something.] Can I stand the strain?” He literally can’t. You know he loves the bickering.

Aw, he has to laugh at his own little joke because no one else finds it funny. Adorable.

So...yeah. I think this episode had an interesting concept, or rather, it’s a genre of sci fi story I happen to like, and there was a potentially cool/unique twist to it in this iteration. I do like the concept of the last survivors of a race still holding on in some way, whether that be a generation ship (For the World is Hollow...) androids (What Are Little Girls Made Of?) or as weird shiny balls (Return to Tomorrow). I thought that the melding of that with a Where No Man type story was interesting and I think there was a lot of potential in the loss-of-identity angle. That is pretty horrific. So in all it’s a mix of sci fi (the frame), horror (from the human’s POV), and tragedy (from the aliens’).

Mira was a very capable character for handling that story too, imo: she was a little more uneasy than most of the ladies we see, or most of the characters in general--didn’t quite have her space legs as Scotty said--but she still obviously dearly wanted to be in space, she cared about her job, she had ambition. That ambition mixed with a very real fear, and the uncertainty about where that fear comes from, that was an interesting angle. While I wasn’t so keen on that ‘she’s susceptible to suggestion’ or whatever angle, I do like the thought that she was just randomly more compatible with the aliens.

I also thought the romance with Scotty was very cute. Scotty tends to have one--sided crushes, over which he becomes a bit obsessive; I wasn’t entirely expecting this one to be reciprocated, but it was, and I loved that for both of them. Scotty was very IC with his all in 100% slightly obsessive romantic character, but he was also charmingly encouraging and supportive, and by the end I did believe that she was drawing strength from him. I was a real sucker for Scotty’s “she’d never hurt me” line, right before he goes after her even knowing the aliens had control at that time.

BUT I feel like all of this is stuff I have to glean from around the edges. The episode itself didn’t do enough with Mira. There was too much talking about her or speculating about her or calling her the girl. She needed more agency. I needed more of her thoughts earlier, not just her occasional expressions of fear, but specifics on what it felt like, really, to be unsure of her identity, of what was in her, of what she was seeing and thinking. Contrast it more outright with Gary even--he had a good ol’ time being merged with an alien, but Mira, though of course in a different situation, didn’t like it at all.

I also wish there were more about the LIBRARY.

I did feel like the Kirk and Spock characterization was very Classic and on point: Spock providing the info and the advice, Kirk consolidating the information and making the ultimate decisions. Even Spock’s prominent eye shadow made a reappearance. (McCoy was a little too grumpy though imo. A not totally inaccurate but also not very flattering depiction of him.)

I enjoyed Kirk’s little love speech at the beginning. When it comes right down to it, the man loves love!

I think this would be/would have been an interesting concept to use in the AOS-verse. When the Zetars were talking, I was thinking of Vulcan: the civilization completely wiped out, but too soon, before its time... I don’t know what happened to Zetar but certainly the Vulcans all died before their time. Something poignant in the idea of wanting to hold on, to live out one’s life, but also horrible when that is seen as something owed even at the expense of another’s life. Basically I just think reboot!Spock saying “But you still can’t take someone else’s body” to the Zetars would be really powerful, given the circumstances.

Next week is yet another ep I haven’t seen...Quite curious.