Sutures.
I am an amateur author of false name,
I borrow worlds of another's fame.
I stake no claim on recognised locations,
Neither do I own canon situations.
I merely come here to spend a while,
Reading other's work; writing my own style.
I earn no money, no wage, no dosh.
I gain no finance, no revenue, no cash.
I do not mean to step on legal toes,
I mean no infringement, I'm friend not foe.
So please, do come in, relax, unwind.
I hope in my work, enjoyment you will find.
****
At the current half-way mark of their five year mission, the USS Enterprise had thirty families on board whom had children of various ages. One such child, Charlotte Harris, the five-year-old daughter of two engineers, was currently sat on a biobed in sickbay, sobbing her heart out. The sandy-haired child was dressed perfectly in pink leggings, pink leotard and pink wrap around cardigan; her little ballet shoes had been taken off and carefully placed out of the way.
"There, there. It'll all be sorted out in a moment. Your Mommy's on her way right now. Shhh." McCoy soothed, perching himself on the edge of the biobed and gently hugging the distressed little girl, rubbing her back in soothing circles. One of the nurses arrived at the bed with the equipment he'd be needing.
"It hurts! And all that medicine-stuff on the tray looks scary! And Mommy will be mad 'cause I ripped one of my new shoes!" she whimpered, huge tears dripping down her face as she looked at the tray the nurse had brought and back at her little pink ballet slippers - one with a jagged rip down the side.
"I know it hurts, sweet-pea, and these things aren't really scary - they'll make you better." McCoy paused as Charlotte's mother came sprinting into sickbay.
"Mommy!" she sobbed, reaching for the woman.
"Hello, Leiutenant Harris, Charlotte's gone over on her ankle and done a fair bit of damage. Don't worry she'll be fine in just a moment, and by this time tomorrow she'll be back to normal." McCoy said calmly, returning his attention to his patient, and very gently pressing the hypospray into her neck. The little girl hardly flinched at the tiny scratching sensation on her neck.
"Now, the shot I gave you should kick in in a minute, and then I'll get you all fixed up, and you won't feel a thing, you'll be back in your ballet class this time next week as good as new. And I'm sure your Mommy is more worried about you, than your shoes." the doctor said gently, pulling an embroidered handkerchief from his pocket and carefully drying the little girl's tears as her mother shook her head.
"Trust you to be more worried about your new ballet shoes than getting hurt, baby. I'm not mad, things happen, its not your fault." she soothed, gently stroking the whisps of baby-fine hair as the sedative kicked in and Charlotte quickly calmed down and became groggy, cuddling into the protective embrace of her mother.
Gently, McCoy helped lay her down, getting to work on her badly sprained ankle. The nurse constantly checked the screen above the biobed as the mother stroked her daughter's hair and whispered a story about a rabbit-or-something, McCoy had more important things to concentrate on.
*****
"Bones!" Kirk called, walking into sickbay at the end of the shift to find it quiet. The nurses were replenishing various dispensers or dealing with a few minor injuries - with the exception of Head Nurse Christine Chapel, who was sat at her desk, busily tapping away at her PADD, probably updating patient files. The current doctor on duty was explaining something on a PADD to a member of security, who's arm was encased within a regen-cast.
"He's in his office, Captain, has been for the past half-an-hour. He said not to be disturbed." The head nurse called out to him, not looking up from her work.
"Tough, thanks Chapel." the Captain replied, nodding to the nurse. He used his override to open McCoy's office door - it seemed the only door he ever overrode was this one - Jim had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.
The doctor sat staring at something pink and shiny that was held between two clamps at eye-level. Jim watched as his friend used two pairs of scissor-like-things (Jim didn't have a clue about the proper names of most of the equipment in sickbay), to expertly move a curved needle holding some sort of purple-ish-thread through the two layers the doctor was stitching back together. Each stitch was cut after he'd completed it, and another stitch began a few millimetres away from the last.
"Bones… what are you doing?" Jim asked, startling the doctor for a moment (though the doctor would deny that).
"I'm suturing. An old-fashioned technique for closing wounds - but something you've got to know in case your regenerators fail on you. Or, in the case of you - hold you together long enough to give the regenerator time to work!" McCoy replied, returning his attention back to his task.
"Yeah… well, you're going to miss getting food in the mess if you take too long." Jim prompted, watching as the doctor effortlessly finished knotting his latest suture (about two-thirds of the way down the rip) and put down his tools.
"I had to finish this at the end of my shift. There'll still be something left to eat in the mess when I'm done." McCoy grumbled, carefully removing the pink thing from the clamps and inspecting his work so far.
"Not bad, I've never had to suture something that wasn't flesh before… You know, I don't think its coming out half bad. This suture thread is strong stuff too - it should hold; and its quite flexible, should keep the tension, but not break." McCoy said, sounding pleased with himself.
"Bones… why are you suturing a really little ballet shoe?"
"Because it was ripped." McCoy replied, dead pan, replacing the little shoe back into the clamps and picking up his equipment again, carefully adding another stitch.
"Riiiiiiiight, I'll erm, leave you to it, then?" Kirk muttered, leaving the room.
"Close the door on your way out, and remind Chapel that I didn't want to be disturbed."