#wondering if maybe this would be the ship where she argues with the CMO A LOT

[baylardian-1]

Moidrah and Philippa :)

i figure they'd have spent a few years working together aboard the same ship, the USS *working title*, while philippa's a commander and moidrah's her captain respectively. probably a science vessel, i figure it'd be a lot of like, working in quarantined planets to help prevent the spread of diseases, helping out in warzones with medical supplies and training, other science-y missions,,,,,,

i only have bits and pieces of ideas,,,,, like i had it in my mind that philippa's stuck in a lieutenant position for a while bc no one will risk taking her on as a commander,,,,, maybe it has to do with her hot-headed temper, or maybe it's because she'd entered the command track late so she's like, pretty unremarkable and inexperienced as a candidate. moidrah handpicks philippa to be her XO and no one, philippa included, can figure out why she'd take the risk.

im still kinda chewing on what their dynamic will be... like i think theyd bond over being genetically "different." rrrrgrhhg moidrah's difficult for me in that like she always has this hidden agenda involving augments and i think philippa having come from a similar upbringing as her captain would be the only one to see it. PRIOR TO THAT though i think philippa would try her darndest not to disappoint her captain so she plays more by the starfleet book for a while but she comes to find out they're both a little rule-bendy in an echo chamber, enabling each other in a way that MIGHT be a little bad lol. ;) but i think itd eventually serve to show philippa why they're supposed to be more STARFLEET CODE with things.

[unstoppableforcce]

what kind of day has it been

—PROLOGUE: in the shadow of two gunmen

pairing: Poe Dameron x f! CMO! reader

masterlist | how wonderful | next part

a/n: this is just 1.5k, just a little prologue bc an 8k first part seemed like a lot. this is my west wing piece taking place within the how wonderful universe, i know it's been a while since i've written anything how wonderful or really for Poe at all but i'm so excited for this !!

you can read the rest of the how wonderful universe on my masterlist but it's not necessary for this fic beyond understanding the reader is the chief medical officer and that things tend to get a bit brutal for these two

There is no warning.

No red flashing light blinking on the dash. No proximity alert blaring in his ears. No echoing alarm shuddering through his chest. Nothing.

When things go wrong on the ground, they just do. There is no warning.

One minute, the roar of the crowd is all he can hear. The next minute, he can feel the screams surrounding him, vibrating in his chest as the sharp slice of the first blaster shot rings in his ears. One minute, he’s watching you up ahead, your smile stretching your lips as Leia holds you close to her side, basking in the vibrant afterglow of a recruitment speech gone well. The next minute, his eyes are peeled, scanning every face cowering in cover, every set of shoulders running away from the chaos, unable to find your figure anywhere amongst the panic.

Scorching shots of red blaster fire rained down around the plaza and screams quickly became all he could hear as bodies hit the ground. Body after body after body…

The General’s security had the shooters down in seconds, practiced precision making them some of the quickest shots in the whole of the resistance, but it wasn’t fast enough. None of it was fast enough.

“We need help over here.”

One minute, there’s a warmth blossoming in his chest as the welcoming cheers seem never ending. The General had always been a commanding speaker, but this speech was like no other, the crowd was buzzing with a passionate heat and the energy was unlike anything he had felt before as they moved through the thick of it, back to the ships. The next minute, all he could feel was cold. A taunting shiver ran down his spine as he spun around the empty plaza that remained, too many bodies lying dead on the ground where there used to be overflowing life. A frigid breeze swept across the plaza, hitting his vulnerable form as he pulled himself from cover.

One minute. Then the next.

The frantic voice repeated, “We need some help over here.” It took far too long to recognize the voice. With fear lacing every word and shaking the timbre of the tone, even the voice he knew the best was foreign.

One minute.

Leia had grabbed you by the arm as an excuse to help her stand and kept you close as the two of you moved through the crowd together. As appreciation and celebration poured in, she wanted you to be standing in the middle of it, she wanted you to get your fair share. Her careful touch lifted your chin as you tried to hide your bashful smile in her shoulder, you were the reason the Resistance had made it this far and she wanted the galaxy to see what she saw.

The next minute.

Her voice called again, a desperate plea for help that seemed impossible falling from her lips. The General didn’t beg, she didn’t plead. She was a fighter and there wasn’t a single thing in the galaxy she feared.

But again she called, sickening fear dripping from her tongue. “Help! We need help over here!”

One minute. He could see you through the crowd, just a bit ahead of where he walked with his rambunctious bunch of pilots. The next minute. He could see your feet, just the bottoms of your boots, the frantic crowd hovering over where you laid too dense to see through.

He fought for every step, his legs losing any strength the sudden adrenaline burst had provided him. Someone tried to grab his shoulders, maybe to steady him, maybe to hold him back, it didn’t make much of a difference, he blew past them without second thought. He only had one thought.

“Babe, what— what— are you—”

“Dameron—”

“Get your hands off— baby, talk to me—“

“Commander Dameron—”

Through the bend in one arm and over the shoulder of another, he saw blood. Snap tried to grab him this time, but there was no stopping him. Another step forward and he could see it all, the brutal wound left in your shoulder, the violent burn across your thigh, the blood on your face, the useless hands all over you making no difference at all. It was bad. Not just because it was you, it was just bad. Your brutalized body was torn to shreds where the shots hit you and every other inch of you was drenched in blood.

“Medic!” one of them called back over their shoulder with his hands pressed into your shoulder, everyone else knew better than to waste their breath.

You were the only medic they brought. You were the only doctor they ever needed.

“Dameron, you can’t—“

Either the strength was back in his legs or he just couldn’t feel the surging exhaustion anymore, he blew past any attempts to hold him back and fought his way to your side, reaching a careful, trembling hand to your cheek as your eyes fluttered in and out of painful consciousness. The words escaping his mouth didn’t even feel like his, he didn’t know where he found the breath, it was just all he could do. “We have to move her.”

“Poe—”

“Back to the ships, we have to get her back to base.”

No one wanted to answer. No one wanted to watch.

“There’s a— a base, a New Republic base on Bothawui.” He watched your mouth open but no sound came out, a scream too muted to even make it to your throat. “That’s not far, we can make it.”

No one wanted to tell him otherwise, despite what each of them seemed to know, what Poe refused to accept.

“You heard the Commander,” Leia’s voice was even weaker now as an obvious set of tears began dropping down her cheeks. “She’s a fighter. We have to move her.”

No one could argue with her.

One minute. He was watching you smile. The next. He was watching Snap carry your lifeless form in his arms as the group of distraught soldiers and pilots alike rushed back to the parked ships up ahead. The next. He was cradling your head as the soldiers did what they could to patch you up for the trip. The next. He was wiping the blood off your cheek as your sunken eyes watched him, your blood-spattered lips forming weakly around words that you lacked the strength to voice.

“I’m right here, Baby, I’m right here.”

“P-P-P-Poe...”

“It’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“The Gen… you… she… we have to…”

The first of his tears began to drip from his nose and chin, hitting gentle against your forehead as your chest choked around your words. There was so much blood, so much pain. “Shhh, it’s okay, Baby. It’s okay, I promise.”

“We have to…”

His brow furrowed as his thumb settled on the dip between your chin and bottom lip. “Baby, I’ve got you, it’s okay.”

“No…”

“It’s okay. Don’t try to talk.” His head shook, and seconds later, he felt the ship do the same. For being such a quick flight, it was the longest of his life. “We’re close, it’s gonna be okay, don’t worry.”

Anyone sitting around the two of you would argue otherwise. Anyone who could see you would say there was no med bay in the galaxy, much less a desolate New Republic base, that could put you back together in one piece, not even your own. But no one was capable of voicing that outlook, not as they watched Leia break down in tears in the seat beside them, knowing the blaster shots were meant for her, not as they watched Poe clutch onto your body, barely breathing.

One minute. He had you. The next minute…

Your lips formed around one last word as the ship came in for a landing. “Love…”

It was the last word you got out. The last word he heard from you before your eyes fell shut and Snap rushed back to grab you and get you past the pouring rain inside the somewhat derelict base.

Poe walked two steps to follow before his knees gave out, the downpour drowning him as he collapsed.

“Poe…” the hand in his curls should have been comforting, the voice too, but something else bubbled in his stomach, a sickness he had no chance of escaping. “Poe, come on, let’s get you out of this weather.”

His head dropped out of Leia’s grip as his sobbing grew uncontrollable.

“Poe…”

There was no comfort she could offer, no wisdom, no advice. There was an empty feeling, a space left vacant with you not beside the two of them, a hollow pain that not even the torrential downpour could wash away as Poe wailed, a heartbreaking scream shuddered out from his lips. There was nothing she could do but hold him and hope.

Hope.

He remembered Leia’s words. Hope is like the sun. She was half right.

You were his hope. You were his sun. And now there was rain. Dark, dreary, pouring rain.

The rain reminded him of home. It reminded him of you.

You hated the rain.

He met you in the rain. He met you in the rain...

SEVEN YEARS EARLIER...

[green-blooded]

Hokay, I'm starting Star Trek: Beyond. Going to rant again... maybe say some positive things here and there. Does McCoy get to be a character in this one? Guess I'm about to find out.

Summary:

(Because he did! And also other words! So there’s still some negativity here, but I liked this one best out of the three movies.)

What.... are these aliens. Why do they look like this. Why are they gargoyles. Why are they attacking Kirk. Why is this happening. Why is this in a Star Trek. Okay. I'm. Trying. Let me enjoy this. Let me try to enjoy this. I will stop being grumpy.

Haha he ripped his shirt okay you got me but if the nipples aren't out it doesn't count.

McCoy is onscreen early in a corridor walk that they could've easily left him out of, so that's a good sign? They were a trio for a second.

Why are they showing all Kirk's uniforms as the same? Where is his fat shirt? This is important to me, okay. Wait, I said I wasn't going to be picky.

Whoa, McCoy has a second scene already!!!!!!!! Oh they're having a whole interaction oh no it's cute. WHY IS McKIRK THE ONLY THING I LIKE IN THESE MOVIES? "You know me, Mr. Sensitive." Oh no he's so cute.

MCCOY'S CONTINUING TO BE IN SCENES AND ARGUING WITH SPOCK. It's still about nothing because these movies don't do deep conflict, but. Y'know. There was a tiny trio moment again. I'm being positive.

Okay, those were a lot of establishing shots for Yorktown, so I hope it's actually important...

MCCOY IS IN ANOTHER SCENE WOW.

Oh yeah this is the one where they kinda let us know Sulu's gay? I forgot about that.

Oh no don't make me cry about nimoy please i don't want to deal with real emotions watching these movies. :(

Some of this does feel vaguely Star-Trek, even though it's still taking place in such HUGE environments that it throws me off. Every room is so POINTLESSLY huge.

Um... we're leaving Yorktown so I'm continuing to wonder if those establishing shots meant anything...

The CMO is on the bridge where he belongs, thank you.

Oh, did they let the lady characters have rank now? Soooo progressivvvve.

Do we really need to completely destroy the Enterprise in every movie? Like. Gosh. Where is Kirk's weird sexual attraction to his ship that makes him want to keep it safe? He's sexually attracted to everything ELSE in this version.

Oh my god are Spock and McCoy getting to do something without Kirk there???!!! ARE THEY CHARACTERS????

Everything is so spaced out on the bridge that Kirk has to be standing at the nav station to talk to someone in another part of his ship???

Newer versions of Star Trek keep putting the "evil" aliens in five hundred pounds of latex and makeup... you don't have to make the aliens less humanoid to make them threatening if you just... write better. Also maybe stop creating evil aliens.

I really have no emotional reaction to seeing the Enterprise being destroyed two movies in a row. I don't even have any emotional attachment to this version of the ship because it looks so stupid inside.

... We couldn't get the red alert sound right? Really?

Too much action too much action too much action. Please give me a story so I can care about what's going on.

Once again the gravity situation shows why the Enterprise shouldn't have such huge interiors... I know I'm going on about that a LOT, but it's one of the stupidest design choices in these movies.

WHY DO THEY THINK WE CARE ABOUT THIS VERSION OF THE ENTERPRISE WHEN THEY HAVE MADE NO EFFORT TO MAKE IT FEEL LIKE HOME OR EVEN A SETTING IT'S JUST A BUNCH OF STERILE LIGHT FIXTURES.

Pointless action sequence with Scotty just... getting out of his escape pod. Cool.

Why put Uhura with an alien race where she could use her linguistic skills and then just have them know English? Sigh. Oh well, at least she's getting a scene to herself. Like she's her own character or something, wow.

Hello Spock and McCoy interacting! Thank goodness for small mercies. But a little less exciting when they have no established relationship to this point, but it's fine.

Oh wow they're having a conversation that could be considered somewhat philosophical. Someone saw a Star Trek episode before writing this!

The hot alien lady seems like a D&D character, but that's fine.

I appreciate McCoy yelling at Spock for collapsing in pain. But like, a caring kind of yell. Good job Urban.

I really do keep zoning out during action scenes. I barely know what's going on in the Kirk scenes because it's just a ton of action that doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Like... the character who has already lied... lied again. Wow.

I really would like to have some emotional reaction to characters running around the wreckage of the Enterprise, but I don't. :(

Goodbye pointless alien who screwed everyone over a lot.

"Federation has taught you that conflict should not exist." No, these movies are just really bad at it, latex face alien.

Ooookay, we established Yorktown so we should care that this alien guy wants to destroy it because he hates unity or something. Cool.

Spock and McCoy scene okay. And we directly mention philosophy! Blunt, but cool. Again... it's just hard to get into it because there's nothing established with these characters, since these movies are more into action than character. But that was a good moment between them. Like... McCoy saying he'd throw a party if Spock left doesn't work because we have seen hardly ANY of the banter between them. It's relying on what we've seen in TOS... But Spock laughing was cute.

I like Jayla a lot. She's definitely a Star Wars character, but it's fine.

Lol they had to give us a ship older than the Enterprise to find one that looked a little bit like a Star Trek ship. Sigh. But at least they're doing it.

I love you Karl Urban for trying so hard to sound like you're from Georgia. I forgive you for, y'know, not.

OKAY AGAIN... the "Of course I care..." etc lines are good, but there is NO HISTORY BETWEEN THESE CHARACTERS BECAUSE YOU JUST MADE EVERYTHING ACTION SCENES AND THE ONLY FEELING I HAVE ABOUT THEM CAME FROM DE AND NIMOY.

He just yelled at Spock for collapsing in pain again, which is just the best.

Spock: [dying a lil]

McCoy: DAMMIT SPOCK STOP THAT

Gotta say... I did like the moment where Spock looks to McCoy when Kirk says he needs him to stay alive. All I wanted this whole time was the trio.

Okay, McCoy calling Uhura's necklace a tracking device, then saying that he's glad Spock doesn't respect him--when literally a few scenes ago, Spock said he did respect him--is kinda great. Especially since respect in this scenario is, like, a way of Spock saying he has romantic feelings for Uhura? Beyond is bringing Spones back into the picture, and it's not perfect, but I'll take it.

Scott saying "she's lost people too, Captain" was good. It was real good. There are good moments in this one, thank goodness.

Holy goodness, they're letting Scott be a character too! They're letting everyone be real characters instead of just scene dressing for the Kirk and Spock show!

I appreciate Kirk calling everyone Mr. Whatever and McCoy is just "Bones."

McCoy saying "I'll keep an eye on him" about Spock oh no. Oh no it's cute.

Wow this dumb motorcycle scene is Very CG.

The main storyline of this movie is Also Very Bad, but I can deal with bad plots when there are good character moments.That's why I can watch the worst Star Trek episodes for the most part... So Beyond is capturing the feel of a bad Star Trek episode, which is an improvement from the first two movies.

On the other hand, while I would like to try to judge these movies on their own merit, I CAN'T because they lean on the original series. The Spock and McCoy interactions are just one example where all of the emotion and development was actually in the series, but now I'm supposed to apply it to this version of the characters who have never shown any connection before now. So, I have to compare them to TOS and it's just not going to come out well for AOS in any department but special effects and budget. (And Pine being more likable than Shatner as a person tbh.) Then even the relationships they HAVE developed in the show, like Spock and Uhura, make me feel very little because they didn't develop them well. Again, action scenes take precedence over development, and it makes the entire thing weaker.

But little moments like Kirk going to save Jayla when she thinks she'll be left behind, which calls back on the moment with what Scott said about being a team... that was a good within itself because it didn't rely on anything from the original series without entirely deviating from the spirit of it! I wish moments like that weren't so rare in these movies.

Were all those establishing shots like an hour ago really enough for me to care about what's happening to Yorktown? Not... not really? I mean, it's sad, but. I don't know anything about this place. The only ones I have any connection to are Sulu's family, and that's only because I like Sulu...

AHHHHHHHHHH MORE SPOCK AND MCCOY um... do you see how easy i am to make happy like... i could have easily loved these movies if they'd done a little better

Scott and Jayla are really cute engineering buddies and this is one thing that's 100% AOS that I really appreciate.

This is how I feel when I hear the Beastie Boys too. (Not in a good way. Not a fan.)

Hey guess what I'm about to say! Guess what it is! If you guessed "This action sequence is too damn long" then you get no prizes because it's pretty much a given at this point.

.... Krall is Idris Elba? I could've been looking at Idris Elba this whole time? Stupid latex.

This... reveal makes... no sense? I mean, on the plus side, I guess this means that the evil latex face aliens weren't evil aliens, but bad Humans... Still not great that they use latex to other characters and make them more ~scary~ imo.

Also, this is... basically the same reveal as the Khan reveal, just slightly less stupid because we didn't already know this character like we knew Khan. But they literally did the "different name, and then we find out who they are" thing twice in Into Darkness... seems weird to do it a third time for Beyond.

ALLLLSO I'm really tired of every conflict in these movies being resolved with fighting... isn't the theme of this very movie about how conflict is something we're moving beyond as Humans?

Are McCoy and Spock still just flying around? I'm confused. Too much action has happened and I can't tell who is doing what. I only know Kirk is in danger because people keep saying he is.

Oh, okay, they were still just flying around so they could save Kirk at the last minute. Which is goofy, but okay. Gotta love Kirk continuing to give Spock all the credit when McCoy is the one saving him. GREAT LOVE THAT SO COOL.

Love that Spock's conflict about leaving Starfleet to help his people is literally the exact same in these two movies.

Oh no they're bringing back Nimoy related thing to give me emotions again. Don't do that. You didn't earn my love of Nimoy, movie.

OH NO THERE'S THE PICTURE PART THAT I WAS TOLD ABOUT OH NO MY FEELINGS. OH NO.

Oh, Karl Urban. I appreciate your accent efforts.

....... lol that look Spock and McCoy exchanged about the necklace. Um. Okay. I won't read into that, don't worry, not at all.

HEY HEY HEY THEY LET MCCOY JOIN THE KIRK AND SPOCK SHOW AT THE END WOW THANKS IT'S LIKE IT'S NOT JUST THE TWO OF THEM. AND NOW THEY'RE ALL DOING THE "THESE ARE THE VOYAGES" SPEECH. That's a nice touch.

Okay, this one was the best of the three movies by a lot. Still not. Y'know... great. But they introduced a new character I liked. They had some good Spock and McCoy moments, even if they pretended that the TOS relationship was intact. They let Uhura exist outside of Spock for a while. Scotty got some really great moments. Overall, I'm not as angry as I was while watching the other two!

But now I'm going to watch some TOS, and the next episode I have queued up is Journey to Babel, so. I'm much happier about that. (Yes, this is a call back to the gif I used up top. Look at me, tying things together like a cohesive story would.)

[winterverses]

Walking Wounded - Chapter Forty-One

“Vital signs have not returned to normal, although they are still within normal ranges for stress, Captain,” Dr. Hayes reported. In the absence of McCoy, she was CMO, and Kirk had invited her to the bridge where she could keep him updated without delays. “Uhura is taking it well. Hardesty is not, although she’s within expectations. McCoy and Scotty are average.”

“Incoming transmission, Captain,” Hawkins said. “Coded burst from Lieutenant Uhura. They’ve been picked up by one of Loche’s ships. They’re being taken in tractor. Loche’s men knew Ms. Hardesty was aboard. Lieutenant Uhura says they expect to be at the base within the next twelve hours.”

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” Kirk said. “Communicate our status to the Farragut-A and add that we expect to move pending Scotty’s reports on the inside of the base, estimate three days given current intelligence.”

“Captain,” Dr. Hayes said. “Permission to speak with you privately.”

Kirk looked sharply at her, then nodded. “In the conference room, Hayes.” She nodded and left the bridge, and Kirk gave a few last-minute instructions to Chekov before handing over the conn.

As he walked into the conference room, he saw Hayes studying the readouts with a frown. “No, nothing’s changed,” she said. “They’re all right. But if they expect to be at the base that quickly, you had better get some rest.”

“Is this your advice as a physician?” Kirk asked dryly.

Hayes smirked at him. “No, Captain. If I want to give you official medical advice, I won’t bother doing it in private. But you’ve been awake since yesterday, and if anything were going to happen it would have happened now or it'll happen when they arrive. We should both rest up for a few hours, let the others spell us off, and then we’ll be fresh for it when they get to the base.”

Kirk watched her, but could detect nothing beyond concern. And he had to admit she was right. “Good idea. Thanks, Claudia.”

“Does this mean I can call you Jim?” she asked, and for a moment he saw that her nerves were about as frayed as his beneath her cool, beautiful facade. He nodded. “Do you want some company, Jim? I think I’d rather not worry myself to death alone right now.”

Kirk eyed her skeptically; he hadn’t noticed her attraction to him, and he wondered if he would notice it if she meant to act on it. He had to admit he wasn’t sure how he would handle it if she did. Anne had encouraged him not to restrain himself, but that was probably a can of worms best left unopened. Especially at the moment. Kirk sighed. “Sure. But I’m warning you, I’m not going to be very good company.”

Claudia shook her head. “Me neither. Dinner, drinks, and off to sleep. And I promise I won’t talk about Leonard too much if you don’t talk about Anne too much.”

An unwilling smile crossed Kirk’s lips. “We’ll work that one out.” He flipped open his communicator. “Mr. Chekov. You will remain at the conn until relieved; Dr. Hayes and I are going to get some rest while we can.” Chekov acknowledged.

Claudia was already contacting the med bay, assigning someone else to watch over the away team’s vitals. As they left the conference room, she flipped her communicator shut, and then paused with it still in her hand. “Should we contact Spock?”

Kirk shook his head. “He’ll be asleep. If he wasn’t, he’d be at his post already. I’d have to stun him to get him away.” His mouth twisted. “We’ll get him if something happens. We don’t all have to be worrying at once.”

“That’s fair.” She tucked her communicator away.

“You haven’t cleared those vitals,” Kirk said, glancing at the padd she still carried.

“Did you really want me to?” Claudia asked skeptically. When he didn’t answer, she said, “I didn't think so.”

Kirk half-laughed at himself, sounding bitter to his own ears. “Yeah, well, as long as I’m not watching them myself I’ll probably be fine.”

Without thinking about it, he soon found himself at his quarters, gesturing for Claudia to follow him in. “What do you even do in situations like this?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. “I’m not cut out for sitting and waiting. I always go with the away teams.” Yanking off the gold overtunic, he tossed it on one of the couches and kicked off his boots. As he walked barefooted to one of the wall cabinets that he knew still had a bottle or two of something in it, he heard Claudia moving behind him.

When he turned, he saw that she was punching an order into the food synthesizer. “Any requests?” she asked.

“God, I don’t know. Something sugary as shit. Pie. Cookies.” He snorted. “Anne calls them biscuits. I don’t even think she’s being pretentious. The way she talks sometimes… hell, I don't even know where she’s from.”

Claudia tapped a few keys on the padd. “That’s odd. South Africa, originally. You would think she’d have mentioned it. She must have had some voice training to change her accent. American accents do tend to be more common off-planet.”

That... couldn't be right. “I know I’ve heard French when she was stressed. For someone who’s not very interesting, she’s sure got a lot of mysterious shit going on,” Kirk said, popping the cap on one of the bottles and pouring some into a glass. It was… bourbon? Maybe?

“And I've heard that before. What’s that ‘interesting’ business?” Claudia asked, grabbing the food from the synthesizer. He saw a massive pile of chocolate chip cookies on one plate, and a stack of sandwiches stuffed with fried things and cheese on the other.

“...thank god. I don’t think I could have handled it if you’d gotten us salad,” Kirk said. Collapsing onto the couch, he set the bottle and the glasses down on the table. Claudia stepped around and put down the plates, grabbing a sandwich and her unidentified booze. It felt so weird to sit on the couch with someone and not immediately have them move in close. He'd gotten so used to Anne being there. “The not-interesting thing, that’s just something she said in the first few days when I asked her about herself.”

Claudia shook her head, but more like she recognized it immediately than not. “I can’t explain that in any detail without breaking confidentiality. There are some personality issues there.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need to explain it,” Kirk said, grabbing a cookie and dunking it in his booze. “Anyway, we weren’t going to talk about her or about McCoy. How did you meet him, anyway?”

Sighing, Claudia said, “He cheated on his wife with me when we were in med school.”

“What?” Kirk dropped his cookie and had to fish it out of his bourbon. “I mean, uh… something less surprised. Seriously?”

She just shrugged. “We were young, okay? And he’d just gotten married and it was already going badly and… It’s all ancient history. We’re friends. Well, after we reconnected in Starfleet, anyway.” She laughed softly. “Then I got chased away by his third wife for a couple years. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since before your five year mission started.”

“Huh.” Kirk couldn’t help but stare. “I’m not sure if I’m more impressed that he never said anything, or that he didn’t marry you, or… you know, I give up. It’s just all impressive.” He paused, taking a bite of his booze-soaked cookie, and then talking around it. “Anne figured it out, I think. She said something about the way you looked at him.”

To his surprise, Claudia looked concerned, a little guilty. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, no! I didn’t even notice. Well, I did after she told me what to look for.” Claudia frowned, and he hurried to add, “I mean I made her tell me.” Kirk saw her suspicion building, and sighed. “Fine, all right, Anne said something about you being a good rebound for me after she was gone unless Bones got there first, and I grilled her because I didn’t believe her because you weren’t obvious, okay?”

Claudia just raised her eyebrows, her lips pressing together briefly. “Well at least I know I wasn’t making a fool of myself. What an awful thing to have your Captain find out.” She shook her head philosophically. “It’s nothing personal. You’re attractive, but I need to have a professional relationship with you. That’s far more important to me than attraction.”

“Damn, shot down before I could even try,” Kirk said drolly. “As long as you don’t marry Bones, because I don’t want to have to get rid of one of you when you break up.”

Knocking back some of her booze, Claudia coughed slightly and shook her head. “I wouldn’t marry him. He’s got too many ex-wives. Makes me nervous.” She glanced sidelong at Kirk. “Besides, I’m not sure I have a position here once we get back to Yorktown.”

“You’re fine here,” Kirk said. This was settled already, had been since her first day.

“Yeah, but… it depends on Anne. If things don’t work out well enough, I’ll stay on at Yorktown. Command will have me, so it’s not like my career would suffer too much.” At Kirk’s skeptical look, she added, “Not that I want to leave. I'd much rather stay with the ship. But… I can’t just leave her if she needs me.”

“All you ever do is argue,” Kirk said, bemused. He wasn't sure he'd seen them on good terms… well, ever.

Claudia smiled, a quick flash of affectionate humor not directed at him. “Do you know anyone else she’s comfortable enough to argue with?”

Kirk had to concede the point. Something Claudia had said when they’d had that first misinterpretation jumped back out at him. “I thought personal feelings were a bad idea, Doctor?”

She acknowledged his point with a nod. “They are. Told you I’d been there.”

“Over and over, I bet,” Kirk said, shaking his head. A bit of honesty escaped from him before he could stop it. “I feel kind of… weird. To think you could change your entire life for a patient, and yet I can’t do it for someone I… I don't know. I don't even know what I'm trying to say.” He didn't want to look up. If he had to see what was on Claudia’s face, he might have answers… and at least if it was all just questions, there was no finality yet.

If she knew what was going through his head, she didn't indulge it for one second. “There are different ways of loving people, Jim. Anne loves you for what you are, not what she wishes you were or what would make her happiest. If I had to be a psychologist for either of you right now, I’d be yelling about how terrible that is under these circumstances, but… off the record, as a friend, so long as you both make it through, I think you’re very lucky.” Claudia sipped her drink again. “But I’m not going to say that ever again, because it’s a huge liability and in the end I don’t think it’s going to do anyone any good.”

Well, he'd practically been asking for all that. “You’re probably right. I’m not real great at the long view, though.” Kirk knocked back his bourbon and finished his cookie, grabbing a sandwich, thinking about the food to avoid thinking too hard about Claudia’s wording choices. “There’s never been a reason to think beyond the next mission.” He sighed, devoured half the sandwich in a few bites, and then added, “I don’t know what to do. Hell, I called my mother.”

Claudia blinked, her large brown eyes shocked. “That’s… you're not...”

Kirk gave her a look. Whatever she was thinking,she could just put it right out of her head. “My mom’s the only person I know that I could really ask about having a loved one die on a mission.” As Claudia looked blankly at him, he prompted, “My father. When I was born. George Kirk?”

Recognition finally sparked in her eyes. “Shit. I knew that about you. I did, really, I just… I didn’t connect it. You don’t act like it.”

Mollified, Kirk said, “Good. Anyway, I had to ask my mom what she would do in my position, what she would have done if she’d known Dad might not come back.” He smirked unhappily. “The point is, she told me not to worry about losing Anne later on, just to spend the time well.”

“Am I being your psychologist?” Claudia asked, her voice neutral.

“No. You’re being a friend. What would you do?” He looked over at her and saw that her tawny skin had gone white. There was a spatter of freckles across her nose and cheeks that didn't show up unless she paled. “Right. Bones. Put you and him in my situation with Anne.”

He finished the rest of his sandwich and started another while Claudia thought. “I can’t say I would do anything differently,” she finally said, slowly. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it? You want to know about the future. What happens if she comes back.”

“When,” Kirk corrected. “When I get her back.”

“When you get her back,” Claudia repeated, then fell silent again. She grabbed a handful of cookies, studying them. “Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. Leonard and I haven’t been together in years. I’m not saying I would, but there’s a chance of it. With Anne… you just don’t know. If you could arrange with her-- if she could follow you, or meet you… if she could stay on...”

“But it’s up to her,” Kirk said, pouring himself some more bourbon.

“And you,” Claudia said gently. “I meant it when I said she loves you. When you get her back, she’ll chase you far enough to get her memories back, for sure. Maybe she’ll chase you past that.” Claudia sighed. “You are pretty well worked into her mind.”

Flicking a crumb off his pants, Kirk tried very hard not to think about what it meant if he was… if Anne was… whatever. This whole situation was crazy. “I suppose that’s encouraging.”

“It should be. You’ve got it set up as best as you can to protect her mind and to get her back safely. I think she’ll be okay. Beyond that, you're going to have to find out yourself.” Glancing around, Claudia sighed, and slumped. “That bourbon is hitting me hard. Can I stay here tonight?”

Giving her a skeptical glance, Kirk said, “Yeah. I’ll take the couch. I’ve crashed on it enough times.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “No, I’m not kicking you out of bed.” She glanced away, and Kirk suddenly felt that she might not be strictly truthful. “I’m not a fan of Anne’s perfume. I’ll take the couch, if you can lend me something to cover up with.”

Kirk gave her a raised eyebrow. “I can probably scare something up. Nothing of Anne’s will fit you, though.”

Lips quirking, Claudia shook her head. “Of course not, she's half my size. But I’ll sleep in my uniform, I just need a blanket or something.”

Kirk shook his head and stood. He was getting tired too. “Let me check around.” A thorough rummage through his various storage compartments later, he’d found an old pair of shorts and a shirt that one girlfriend or other had left behind by accident, as well as a blanket to cover up with. He gestured toward the wall opposite his room. “There’s a washroom over there. I’ve got my own in the bedroom, so take as long as you need.”

“I’m all right for now. I’ll change after you go to bed.” Yawning behind her hand, Claudia looked up at him. “I’ll set up an alarm so that if their vitals change state, it’ll wake me.”

Kirk felt his shoulders sink in relief. He tossed the blanket and the clothes on the end of the couch. “I appreciate it, Claudia. Really.” Grabbing the bottle of bourbon, he poured himself another generous glass of it and then set it on the table. “I’ll clean up in the morning. Get some rest.”

“You too, Jim,” she said, already at her padd.

He’d finished the glass by the time he made it to the shower in his bedroom, and once he’d come out, he was feeling warm and drowsy. Sliding naked into bed, he settled into the scent of Anne’s perfumed skin, and wished it was still natural for the other side of the bed to feel cold.

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.64

“Where the Wild Things Are”

A/N: Takes place after episode 5, "Choose Your Pain."

Also, I was asked a question about the usage of "Rove" a couple chapters back. Hm, yes, that was odd, wasn't it? I wonder what that was about... (Has anyone been noticing any other odd details? It's almost like there are some secrets around here or something. All shall be revealed in due time...)

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << Part 63 - A Laughing Rain Part 65 - The Stars, Broken >>

Ripper was gone. While Lorca endured a bout of physician-mandated rest (sometimes it was impossible to argue with Starfleet medical, especially when the request was an entirely reasonable "get eight hours of sleep after being tortured" that turned out to be a much-needed ten and then some), Burnham and Tilly released the tardigrade into space under Saru's supervision.

Saru reported this to Lorca in the form of a ready room confession first thing in the morning, admitting he had timed the release so that Lorca could not offer any objections to the action. "The tardigrade had suffered enough," said Saru, "and it was no longer necessary to keep it on board in light of Mr. Stamets ability to compensate for the tardigrade's function."

Lorca registered a distasteful frown. It seemed on the surface to be in response to Saru's little deception, but the truth was more nuanced.

"I will accept any punishment as you see fit," said Saru.

Lorca stood there, silently hemming and hawing, then said, "Dismissed."

Saru did not understand. He was prepared for a lecture from the captain at the very least, or more likely an expression of outright vitriol for his deception. "Sir?"

"Dismissed," Lorca repeated, with more emphasis, but still entirely calm.

Saru wandered out, confused as to why there had been no reprimand.

Lorca turned towards the ready room window. Ripper was out there somewhere, free and unfettered, roaming the mycelial network and dining on mycelium spores. Ripper had murdered Landry and gotten away scot free. Lucky little bastard. Maybe murder was too strong a word, but at the very least, killed in self-defense.

The kicker was that, for all that he had told Burnham to make full use of Ripper, he was fond of the giant tardigrade and would have liked to have been there when they released it, or at least have been afforded the chance to bid it some sort of farewell. He saw a lot of himself in Ripper. Out of all the many living things on the ship, it was the monsters Lorca identified most with. Ripper had been king of the monsters, and if Ripper was king, Lorca was Emperor, because it wouldn't do for the tardigrade to outrank Discovery's captain.

Yes, it was true, they would never be able to plunder the tardigrade's genetic code for new biological materials or technology to exploit, but on some level, Lorca preferred the monster being free. At least one of them was unfettered by any rules or obligations.

He took a cookie from the bowl, shattered it between his hands, and read the fortune. Many receive advice, but only the wise profit by it. Then, with a certain degree of reluctance, he contacted Starfleet Command.

He received Cornwell in response. Waiting in ambush was more like it. She was as good as the Klingons in that regard. Which, come to think of it, the Klingons had found him as surely as if she had tipped them off. Had it not been for her summons to forward command, he would never have been captured in the first place, and the fact colored his reception towards her. To top it off, their last exchange of words had been largely unkind.

Oblivious to the roiling discontent in Lorca's mind, Cornwell looked genuinely happy to see him alive and well. "Gabriel!"

Lorca grimaced faintly. "Admiral," he said, entirely businesslike. "Reporting in I've been cleared for duty by our CMO and Discovery is back—" he almost said in action but the words were entirely inaccurate "—online."

Cornwell's face fell at the lack of reciprocity. She tried again, exuding friendly concern as she asked, "Are you all right?"

He remained impassive. "Never better."

The stubbornness he was displaying in the moment hurt her and it showed. "Gabriel. It's just me asking. When I realized you'd been taken..." She inhaled, shaking her head as he did, and then exhaled heavily. Words could not express the worry, fear, and upset she had felt at the news.

"Were you worried about me? Or the things I know." He'd seen the orders sent in his absence, watched the replay of her instructing Saru to retrieve him before the secrets of the spore drive could fall into Klingon hands.

She registered shock. "You, of course!"

That, at least, he believed, and he felt a little guilty for pressing her on the point and looked away. Then he relaxed, shrugged lightly, and lifted his head up. "I'm fine. Really." He even managed a smirk.

"The Klingons had you for almost forty-eight hours," said Cornwell.

"Pleasure cruise," he suggested.

Though the joke was potentially a positive sign, Lorca's history of avoiding processing things suggested it was more likely to be the usual pattern. "Don't do that. Don't shut me out."

He blinked. "What do you want from me, Katrina? You want me to curl up into a ball and cry?"

"That at least would be some sort of reaction commensurate with what you've been through," pointed out Cornwell.

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but I've been through much worse. They didn't break me. Frankly I'm a little offended you thought they would." This wasn't San Francisco. He had no need to convince her of anything. "And you should see the other guy. Seven months he was in that hellhole. Still didn't break him. What happened to me wasn't even a flash in the pan. Barely a tickle." He smirked, confident, jesting.

Somehow Cornwell doubted Lorca's ability to psychologically assess the recovered lieutenant. She equally doubted his ability to assess himself, but there was no way this was being resolved via commlink.

"If you need to talk," began Cornwell earnestly.

"I know exactly who to call." He smiled again.

Cornwell was not reassured in the slightest.

Lorca checked on Tyler in sickbay and brought him the "traditional welcome aboard gift of Discovery," as he put it, handing Tyler a fortune cookie. Tyler's recovery was going well and he was almost cleared to leave sickbay, which was remarkable given what he had been through. Tyler was a resilient officer. Lorca had already arranged some decent quarters so Tyler could finally sleep in a real bed.

"This ship wasn't even active when I was captured," noted Tyler, still amazed by how much time had gone by during his captivity. It did not feel like seven months so much as one long, unending day. "You have traditions?"

Lorca shrugged. "Might be more my tradition than Discovery's. This was the family business back when business was a thing." Lorca had a cookie of his own and cracked it. "Ah, this is a good one! 'You don't become a failure until you're satisfied with being one.' As someone who's never satisfied..." Lorca smirked in satisfaction, .

Tyler opened his. "Your love life will be happy and harmonious."

Lorca chuckled. "Well, with a face like yours, lieutenant." Tyler's dark, soulful eyes and fine features were probably capable of melting whatever heart he chose to direct them towards.

Tyler smiled faintly and pressed the pieces of cookie to his lips, eating slowly. He was not quite to the point of mustering a real laugh of his own yet, but it was good to hear laughter again after so many months with only screams for company.

"So, you given any thought to what you're going to do next?" asked Lorca.

"Sir?"

Lorca leaned against the side of the biobed. "I don't think anyone would blame you if you used this opportunity to hightail it on out of here. You've certainly been through more than your fair share in this war."

Tyler considered that, his brow furrowing. "I want to stay on, sir. If they'll let me."

"Oh? Is it vengeance you're after, lieutenant? Not that I'd blame you."

Tyler considered that, his brow furrowing. "I don't think so, sir. It's more... if I did leave, then it would be like the Klingons beat me."

Lorca was impressed. It was not just that Tyler had survived so much, but he had come through it with a remarkable resolve and even a degree of introspection where most people might have fallen apart. Whatever he had told himself to get through the long days and nights, it had been enough.

"Someday you'll have to tell me your secret," said Lorca, smiling kindly. Tyler looked confused. "The thing that got you through."

Tyler looked down and away, head shaking faintly. "I don't know, captain, I just... got lucky."

Lorca's smile pulled into an entirely lopsided twist of amusement. Luck alone did not get you through an ordeal like that. Survival on such a level required an innate reserve of strength as rare as a green star. You had to be wily, and determined, and possess the ability to forgive yourself, because otherwise you would go mad.

"We both got lucky," said Lorca. "Wouldn't have made it out of there without you."

"It was good thing you knew how to work that raider," said Tyler. "I didn't learn that in the cell."

"Now that," said Lorca, perking up, "wasn't luck at all. That was preparation."

Tyler looked at Lorca with his big brown eyes, eager to hear more.

Lorca was more than happy to comply. "You have to know your enemy in order to beat them," he said, "and you, Mr. Tyler, know our enemy from the inside. Everything I know is from the out. Between the two of us, we might know everything there is to know about Klingons. Certainly more than any other two people in Starfleet. It'll be a few days yet before there's any chance of you leaving Discovery. I hope, in the interim, you'll do me the favor of letting me pick your brain about our former hosts."

There was the faintest flicker of hesitation. It was true Tyler knew the Klingons more than anyone, but a lot of that knowledge was far too intimate, things he would rather forget. Still, he was Starfleet, and he was determined to make what had happened to him count. "Anything, captain."

Lorca smiled. He had no intention of letting Ash Tyler go anywhere else. He liked Tyler, and the potential he saw there was worthy of cultivation.

Typically, when Lab 26 called late at night, it was Lalana for their almost-daily discussion. This time it was not.

"O'Malley to Captain Lorca."

From the comfort of his quarters, Lorca considered declining the comm, but he answered.

"I seem to have more beers than I know what to do with. Fancy a drink?"

Lorca snorted. "How about something a little stronger?"

"If you're referring to my emergency anti-claustrophobia supply, then, no."

There was no sign of Lalana and Mischkelovitz in the main lab area. "They're watching this movie Melly likes, Caddy-catsy or something. It's just pictures and music. I can't stand it myself. I'm not particularly fond of music," explained O'Malley as he opened the beers.

Lorca took one. "You don't like music," he said with mild incredulity.

"Not really, no. Melly does! Loves it, in fact. She's always got something going in her ears. I'm just glad she spares me the inconvenience." They sat down, O'Malley in Groves' chair and Lorca in Mischkelovitz's. "There is this one song I don't mind. I can't remember what it is, though." With a shrug, O'Malley started on his beer.

"There's no music you enjoy?" said Lorca.

"What about you?" shot back O'Malley.

"Good ol' country boy like me? What do you think."

"How typically American," said O'Malley, rolling his eyes. A moment went by of silent drinking. "How are you, by the way?"

Lorca's eyebrows shot up and he leaned back in the chair. "Cornwell put you up to this?"

"Good god, nothing so formal," said O'Malley, looking genuinely insulted. "It's just, you've been through an ordeal, and if I'd gone through what you had, I'd want a friendly drink or two. Or five, really."

"You wouldn’t have survived what I've been through," said Lorca darkly, but as always, there was a macabre sort of humor in it.

O'Malley scowled. "You know, you always make it out like you're some sort of special survivor so much better at it than the rest of us, but the fact of the matter is, you can't say that. You don't know what I've been through, what I've survived."

"So tell me," said Lorca, sipping at the beer.

"You'd like that, would you? An entire lifetime's worth of blackmail material. Sorry, leverage. Because you're too good for blackmail, aren't you?"

Lorca started to snicker. "Why the hell would you say that?"

"Oh, so you don't have an inflated opinion of yourself?"

Lorca decided to give O'Malley that one. "Doesn't mean I'm above blackmail."

O'Malley laughed and Lorca chuckled. "Tell you what," said O'Malley. "You can ask me three questions about myself and I'll answer one as a sort of welcome home present."

"How magnanimous," drawled Lorca in a total deadpan.

"I have my moments. Now hurry it up before I change my mind."

The first question Lorca asked was what O'Malley and Mischkelovitz's mother had done to them. This was a clear non-starter, but there was no harm in trying. The second question entailed what an alien with no romantic proclivities saw in O'Malley, because clearly it wasn't looks or personality. The third question was, if he hated John Groves so much, why did he bother looking after him?

"To answer the second," said O'Malley, "she said my blood smelled delicious."

Lorca snorted in amusement, then realized it wasn't a joke. "Seriously?"

"Misellians drink blood. Any blood, really, but I've got a rare type, so why not a delicious walking blood bag anytime you want a snack?" O'Malley smiled to himself. "God, I miss her." He resumed drinking his beer.

It was obvious what Aeree was interested in. What the hell O'Malley got out of his marriage, Lorca couldn't tell. "You let her drink your blood?"

"She's always careful about it, metes it out in quantities that don't cause any lasting harm. I don't love it, but it's not so bad. Here, look." O'Malley pulled his collar loose, unzipped the tunic partway, and revealed a box-shaped scar just below his left collarbone about two inches tall and nearly as wide. There was something odd about the texture of it.

Lorca reached towards O'Malley with a glance of sought permission. O'Malley did not recoil from the advance. Touching his finger to the spot, Lorca discovered the skin felt somehow chitinous, like the membrane of an insect's wing. "What in the..."

"Careful now," warned O'Malley, "if you press it too hard, blood'll come right out. It's a graft, you see, slightly porous biosynthetic material. Beats getting sliced, bitten, and stabbed every time Aeree wants a drink."

In other words, a shunt. Lorca was enthralled by the modification. It was delightfully gross. "And what does she do for a drink when you're not around?" he asked, half-hoping to find out O'Malley's wife was drinking other men behind his back.

"I shudder to think. This is why I can't get a cat." It was said in jest, but the next line out of O'Malley's mouth was entirely somber. "And why it's probably a good thing we can't have children."

There was no denying the longing and regret of that admission. O'Malley wanted children and had sacrificed that desire to live with someone who viewed him as convenient snack. It beggared belief. Lorca said, "You could always adopt."

"I'm not sure taking a child into a household where the mother drinks blood is such a good idea. Mind you we could adopt a Misellian, but then the child would drink my blood, and I don't have enough for two." O'Malley sighed. "Anyway, I've got Melly."

It made a sort of sense. In lieu of a child of his own, an emotionally-stunted kid sister would seem to do the trick. It put O'Malley's unnatural attachment to Mischkelovitz into a slightly changed light. The bond wasn't just sibling, it was also vaguely parental.

"And Mr. Groves," pointed out Lorca.

O'Malley groaned. "I wish I didn't, but it's for his own good. Honestly, if you'd kicked him off Discovery, the loneliness would have killed him."

A shadow crossed Lorca's face. "You said it was Emellia needed him, not the other way around."

"I said what I thought would work in the moment," admitted O'Malley. "And Emellia would be heartbroken to lose another sibling. We all would."

"I didn't realize you lost one already," said Lorca, sympathetic.

O'Malley froze. "We... we don't like to talk about that."

"Fair enough," said Lorca, putting a pin in the subject for the moment. It felt like he had stumbled onto something. He wondered if the family secret was that their mother had killed one of her own children. He pondered the possibility as they sat there drinking. Then Lorca asked, "So, Mac, if I get kidnapped and tortured by Klingons again, you'll answer another question?"

O'Malley lifted an eyebrow. "Try it and see." They both laughed, a good laugh, and despite whatever misgivings Cornwell had and everything else going on in the universe, from where the two of them were sitting, life wasn't so bad.

Eventually, Mischkelovitz came out of Lalana's room, which was Lorca's opportunity to enter it. He caught a small exchange between the siblings in the process. When Mischkelovitz told O'Malley she loved him, O'Malley replied, "Just as much."

Lalana was pleased to see him in person for the second night in a row. "Tonight you will not be called away to sickbay," she noted.

"That is certainly true." He sprawled out comfortable on her couch, half a beer still in his hand.

They talked. About Ash Tyler and what Lorca saw in him, about Ripper's unceremonious departure and Saru's deception. "Do you know, I think Saru actually thought I intended Ripper harm. It's not like I told him to go all out and risk Ripper to rescue me." He drank the last of the beer and put the glass bottle down on the table.

"No," said Lalana, "that was me."

Lorca blinked in surprise as he leaned back onto the couch and stretched his arms across the back. "You?"

"I told Saru in no uncertain terms he must use any means necessary to retrieve you. I may have suggested Discovery would fall apart if he did not."

"For the record, Lalana? Tyler and I were doing a pretty good job of rescuing ourselves."

"You might have died in the process."

"I'm a survivor," said Lorca. "I'll die when I'm done with the universe, and not a moment sooner."

Lalana slid up next to him on the couch and pressed against his side. "I do wish I could believe that," she said, "but experience has taught me different." She brought her tail up and stroked his cheek.

Lorca smiled. It was strange to think that, once upon a time, he had looked at her and seen something so unforgivably alien it bordered on the incomprehensible. Looking at her now, he saw a person, strange and blue-grey with green eyes that never blinked and could be poked with a finger if he so chose, whose presence made him happy.

"You are different," she said. "Something happened on that Klingon ship."

"Not you, too," said Lorca, thinking of Cornwell accusations. "I'm fine. It wasn't that bad."

Her tongue clicked. "No, not something bad, something good."

"You think being tortured was good?" he chided her lightly.

"I only know what I can see," said Lalana, "and what I see is good."

Lorca reached over and brushed his fingers across the filaments on her head as if they were Mischkelovitz's hair. "What can I say. A little light torture now and again serves to remind a person what's good in life."

He had realized something on the Klingon ship, in that moment when the lights were burning into his retinas and the Klingon captain had tried to guess at who he was. A cosmos full of agonizing light? Maybe so, but it was a pain he would happily endure for the chance to be right where he was, surrounded by monsters he loved.

Part 65

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

@youre-on-a-starship - “I’ve got to get my two cents in for this request event: Can you write a Bones fic in which he and the reader finally meet over a communal meal (a holiday perhaps?) and end up bonding because she’s got a rare medical condition that he’s interested in? I love your writing so much; I am unabashedly jealous of the realism you cultivate in your discussion of medical situations. It’s absolutely mind boggling and your writing is exceptional. Lots of love ❤️ ” I will also need to do a little research on this one, but the thoughts are flying fast already.

Word Count: 1892 Author’s Note: I found researching OI pretty interesting, and I definitely have a better idea about it now. I hope I did your request justice :) (And thanks for answering all my questions!)

“Y/N, were you in medbay today?” Your roommate, a nurse who would have known if you’d been hurt, asked as she came into your shared quarters.

“Obviously not,” you replied. “Why?”

“Bones was reading your chart. I thought maybe you’d gotten hurt,” she offered.

“Uhura to Y/L/N, are you free?” You dug your communicator from your hip and flipped it open.

“I’m kind of precariously balanced on the wire rungs of the J-tube, but sure, Nyota, what can I do for you?” You knew she would catch the sarcastic tone.

“I was just checking on you. Medical accessed your personnel file this morning, and I was worried that you’d had an accident,” she responded. “Back to work, before Scotty finds you goofing off!”

“Y/N, join me in my office,” Scotty gestured to a storage closet. It was the running gag, that he’d converted his actual office into a workshop of sorts. When he needed to have official conversations with any of the crew under his command, he’d pull you aside into a secluded corner, a closet or take you down to water reclamation, where it was so noisy, you were guaranteed privacy. You stepped in ahead of him and waited as he found the lights and shut the door behind himself. It was close quarters, and you arched your eyebrow when he started fidgeting with his hands. It was a lot closer than you were used to.

“Scotty, what’s up? Is it the repair on the -”

“No, no, nothing about your performance,” he cut you off. “Are you quite healthy right now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him.

“Your zero grav sessions are helping?” He pressed. Part of the reason you’d been assigned to a ship instead of grounded was because it was easier to access the therapy your body required to maintain health. As a toddler you’d been diagnosed with a mild form of Osteogenesis Imperfecta. There was a genetic treatment available, and your parents had taken advantage of that, which had strengthened your ability to create the collagen that was absent in OI patients, but you still needed regular physiotherapy to ensure adequate bone density. Space was a crapshoot because the artificial atmosphere meant there was constant real pressure on you and your bones, which was both emotionally and physically draining. But the opportunity to spend a half hour every evening weightless, floating in the safety of an empty cargo bay was one that you were unable to pass up. For a half hour, you were free, with no cares, no worries, no risk. And each session, somehow, for reasons you didn’t understand, strengthened what little collagen you did produce, making your bone density improve enough that you weren’t terrified of scampering up Jefferies tubes when necessary.

“Yeah, Scotty, life is good,” you confirmed. “What’s this about?”

“Doctor McCoy was down here asking questions. I know M’Benga did your intake physical. It made me wonder if you were declining and afraid of telling me,” Scotty explained. “You know you’re too valuable to let go, Y/N. Even if you need to be on light duties for a while, I will be keeping you here in engineering.”

“Really, I’m fine, Scotty,” you asserted. “I trust you. You’re the first person I’d tell if anything were up.”

“I’m not pulling your leg, lass,” he asserted. “If you need extra time away from shift for physiotherapy, or would like reduced duties -”

“Scotty, I’m fine,” you interrupted. “Really. I appreciate all your support. But there’s nothing any worse than usual happening.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he nodded, and suddenly realized how cramped the closet was. “Let’s be out of here before people assume the worst.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you winked as you walked out ahead of him, deliberately adjusting your skirt just to give him a hard time. He sucked in his breath to protest, and then coughed, drawing even more attention to you both. It was a good thing that everyone in engineering was used to Scotty’s unorthodox use of whatever space he could find. No one even blinked. “Are you headed to the Federation Day celebrations this afternoon?”

“If you think I’m going to pass up real food, you’re out of your mind,” you replied. “I saw the quartermaster’s delivery while I was fixing that malfunctioning door in the cargo bay. There were bananas. Real, perfect, honest-to-god yellow bananas. And I heard a rumour about steak.”

“We’ll see you later on then, Y/N. Save some bananas for me,” Scotty laughed.

You were standing in the buffet line, banana in your hand, waiting for your steak to come off the grill, when you noticed Doctor McCoy staring at you. He wasn’t even embarrassed enough to look away when you caught him. So you decided to stare back. It was the most uncomfortable thing you’d ever done, not breaking eye contact with him. He was too far away for you to tell exactly what colour his eyes were, but they were dark, and transfixed you. You had already noticed the broad shoulders, and you knew from seeing him around the ship that he was tall. His perpetual scowl didn’t scare you, but his eyes were starting to unsettle you. Because he just kept staring. No real emotion there, just appraisal and interest.

The steak being flopped on your plate pulled your attention back to the cook. “Thanks,” you nodded, and snuck a peek back in the direction of the CMO. He was still watching you. You stumbled, tripping over your own foot, as you headed toward the baked potato bar, and out of the corner of your eye you saw him lurch to his feet. Curious. You regained your footing and continued through the flow of the buffet line, finally free from the queue, You didn’t need to look at the damned man to know he was still watching you. He’d been clutching the table since your near-miss.

You locked eyes with him again, and grabbed cutlery from a basket without slowing down on your way over to him.

“Doctor McCoy.” Your tone was confrontational. “Would you mind explaining yourself?” You slammed your tray down across from him, and slipped into the chair, all grace despite the simmering rage.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” He asked. “I’m just a man trying to eat a steak, Lieutenant?”

“Y/L/N. Don’t even try to act like you don’t know exactly who I am. You’ve been creeping around looking into my medical and personnel records, and harassing Scotty with your nonsense for weeks now,” you accused, cutting into your steak with a vicious aggression that wasn’t necessary for the tender meat. McCoy’s scowl turned into a smirk. He gestured for you to sit in the chair you’d taken.

“By all means, join me for a meal.” His tone was dry and in any other circumstance, you might have found it appealing. “And I supposed you’re going to tell me you couldn’t possibly imagine why I’d be checking your records?”

“I’m sure it has to do with my OI. But quite frankly, sir, Starfleet didn’t have a problem with me enlisting, or taking officer training. They didn’t have any concerns when they assigned me to the Enterprise. So I’m not sure why I beg notice, all of a sudden. I mean, given the shit we’ve encountered on this tour, I shouldn’t even merit the highlight reel.” You weren’t trying to downplay your condition, just make him understand the weird concern was, in fact, weird. “I mean, I’m not even on your service. Geoff is my doc.”

“Regardless of who did your intake, Y/N, I’m the CMO. That makes you one of my patients. And you’re my first OI patient, and there’s a lot of conflicting information about your disease.” You’d heard he was the best doctor in Starfleet. “So I did some investigating, and looked at your history prior to the Enterprise, and then your records since coming aboard. You’ve had a 26% decrease in injury. I was curious as to whether it’s because of the anti-grav sessions, or if Scotty was giving you reduced risk assignments. But he tells me you’re the biggest daredevil in that lot of maniacs.”

“When you spend your childhood in and out of hospital, you develop a carpe diem attitude,” you shrugged.

“I pulled your replicator records -”

“You what?” You laughed in surprise.

“Of course I did. I was making a study of your disease and how you manage it,” McCoy looked confused, like he thought you were strange for thinking it was funny. “I noticed you still drink coffee, and you take it black. Nothing to even sweeten it.”

“So?”

“Well, there’s some studies that show -”

“Maybe for people with more severe disease, but mine is relatively mild. And I had the COL1A1 gene therapy as a child and again as a teenager, which further strengthened my system,” you interrupted. “In fact, if you look at my records again, with my permission this time, you’ll see that since my second course of COL1A1 gene therapy, I’ve only had three fractures.”

McCoy’s frown turned into a lazy smile and your breath caught. Damn. He was sexy. You shouldn’t have sat down to confront him. “One of them was a fracture of your femur,” he countered.

“That was still before I joined Starfleet. Starfleet knew and let me in,” you argued. His expression changed again, like he’d suddenly remembered he’d left the stove on or something. His eyes grew wide and and then he sighed heavily, and looked down at his plate. After a moment of silence, he looked back at you, his hazel eyes contrite.

“You think I’m going to try to send you back.” It was a question.

“You’ve spent nearly a month sneaking around, rifling through my records and have never thought to sit down and have a chat with me,” you nodded. “Of course that’s what I think.”

“Scotty would kill me,” he shrugged. “But moreso, there’s no real reason to send you back. I agree with the findings of Headquarters. You are eligible for service, you are competent to serve, and you are best served in return by being onboard a starship.”

“Then why all the cloak and dagger?” You asked, completely confused. He shrugged and shook his head.

“It wasn’t, really,” he denied.

“Right.” You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee.

“Dammit, kid, I have a right, as your CMO, to diligently investigate all crewmembers to ensure their needs can be met on this ship,” he positively growled. You sighed and lifted your cup. “Is that coffee? At this hour?”

“I already told you, I can have caffeine,” you protested. You looked at him again and saw some humour behind his eyes, forcing you to reassess him as less of a grump than you’d initially thought.  “And I like it how I like my men. Tall. And bitter. And all hours of the night.”

“Come on now, darlin’. You shouldn’t be flirting with your doctor.” He quirked an eyebrow, and a lazy smirk lifted one side of his mouth. You took a bite of your steak, and raised your own eyebrow in return.

“And I already told you, Geoff’s my doctor.” With a wink, you went back to your steak.