#healinghands

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