The engine purrs around her, a fairly warm sound that had become comforting to the female engineer; as familiar to her as her own heart beat and breathing. It was early morning so only herself, ever a work-a-holic, and Scotty remained in the engine room. It was hard to enjoy her work as she normally did, however. The woman is crouched in front of her current patch job, trying her best to ignore the pain that throbs up her spine. Beneath her shirt, spanning nearly the full extent of her lower back—from what she could manage to see in the mirror when she'd checked earlier—was a huge, red, swollen, wound. The wound had seemed fairly standard when she'd gotten it, but she'd since developed a light fever and rather disturbing black-ish vine-like marks from several of the abrasions, she'd started to get a little worried.
I probably should go to Medical… The woman had thought when she'd seen it, but who knows what Bones would say or do. She had so much work to get done, so many things she had to help Scotty with. They were already down several engineers who were confined to their rooms by the doctor. There were others that were far more injured than she was anyway. She didn't want to be thought of as weak or whiny, so she did her best to hide the injury and continues to work. So far, no one has noticed the soft limp in her step or the little staggers when she'd get dizzy or the slight flush on her cheeks.
Of course, she'd been careful to avoid the more keen eyed crew like Spock or Sulu or Bones himself.
They have more important things to do than to deal with me. She convinces herself, though, despite how tight knit the crew of the Enterprise was, she doubted most of the higher ups would notice a low ranked engineer like her.
"Oi! _!" The woman hears Scotty call behind her from his station at a work bench. Inhaling quietly, she picks herself up from her crouch without doing more than wincing slightly, and heads over to her boss.
"Yeah? What's up?" She asks kindly. An oil covered Scotty looks up at her from his project.
"Didja finish repairin' Spock's communicator like I asked ya? He's askin' fer it." The red-shirt gives a light nod.
"Ai, that's a clever lass." He praises, grinning at her. It wasn't a hard fix, but she was used to the constant compliments on work finished—most of those in engineering were—so she didn't comment. "Head on up an' give it to him. He's in his quarters."
Heading back to the workbench she'd left the communicator slower than normal, she grabs it and heads up to the officer's living quarters.
—
"Enter." She hears from the other side of the door, the usual deep almost monotone voice she'd heard fairly often. The door slides open with a familiar hiss and she steps inside quietly, holding the communicator in both hands. The room is dimly lit, enough to see but comfortable, she notices as she looks around in search of the Vulcan. The door hisses closed behind her as she takes a few steps further inside.
"Commander Spock, sir?" She calls when she can't seem to locate the man. "I've brought your communicator. It's all fixed up." She continues, figuring he's in the facilities or perhaps changing.
"Kindly leave it on the desk. I will be out in a moment." The commander calls from what was likely the bedroom. A quick glance around is all she needs to spot the immaculately clean desk not far from her. Shuffling towards it while trying not to aggravate her wound, the woman quickly sets the communicator down before turning abruptly and, in a moment of pure klutziness, she knocks the communicator off the smooth surface where it clatters to the ground loudly. Cursing her poor luck, the woman crouches down and picks up the small machine before standing again with a soft hiss as the movements aggravate her wound.
"Ms. _," comes a calm, distinctive voice right behind her. Startled, she spins around on her heel, with a sharp gasp, barely able to stare up at the commander before the pain from her abrupt movement makes her wince sharply and close her eyes tight before the feeling passes. Looking up at the man when the pain subsides, she can see a somewhat curious expression on his otherwise stoic face.
"You are wounded?" He points out, not much of a question. The woman laughs and grins sheepishly and waves off his comment as she sets the communicator down on his desk again.
"I-It's not a big deal." She assures him before inching towards the door. He's one of the main people she didn't want to be around, too observant for his own good.
"I beg to differ. The wound on your back seemed particularly worrisome." He points out and it takes her a moment to figure out how he could have known what the wound actually looked like. She nearly curses aloud when she realizes that her shirt must have lifted up when she'd bent over to pick up the communicator.
"Have you seen Doctor McCoy yet?" He asks, watching as she inches towards the door.
"Uh…no…I don't think it's something to worry Doctor McCoy about." She insists, almost at the door again by this point. Spock turns and strides forward.
"Then I must insist you go see him immediately." The Vulcan says as he approaches her. The woman takes a sharp step back before letting up a sharp yelp as her injured back collides with the solid metal door behind her, which hadn't opened. The woman opens her eyes to see the commander standing only a few inches from her, having closed the gap when she'd closed her eyes.
"U-Um!" She squeaks, still standing firm in her stubbornness. "I'm okay! I-I'm just going back to Engineering!" That makes the Vulcan frown ever so slightly as he looks down at her while she fumbles around to open the door, flustered and nervous.
"I cannot, in good conscious, let you return to work with an injury of that extent." The commander says as he catches her hands and keeps her steady as the door suddenly opens behind her and nearly sends her to the ground.
"U-Uh!" She tries but it seems the Vulcan, ever stringent with the rules, has made up his mind and easily takes one of her hands and tugs her outside of his room and down the hall.
—
The commander drags the woman through the halls of the enterprise, keeping a firm grip on her wrist. She stumbles after him, trying hard to keep up with his long strides. Her constant, if subtle, shaking is doing little to help keep up with his pace. She didn't bother to ask the Vulcan where he was taking her; she already had an idea.
With his quick pace, it took no time at all to arrive at their destination; the medical bay.
"Commander Spock, this isn't something to worry Doctor McCoy about." She tried to persuade, but the half human simply ignored her as the doors to medical opened and he dragged her through.
The sound of the door opening drew the attention of the older medic. He looked up at the two of them, raising an eyebrow as he took in the sight of the Vulcan commander and young woman. The Vulcan seemed calm and collected, but there was something about how one of his pointy eyebrows was raised that hinted of a problem. The girl, on the other hand, was looking around with doe like eyes and was trying her best to hide behind the taller Vulcan who still gripped her wrist firmly in one hand.
"What's going on?" McCoy asked as he stood, eyeing the two of them. Spock pulled the girl out from behind him and pushed her towards the medic.
"Show him." He ordered calmly. The girl shook her head.
"I told you, it's nothing! Don't worry the doctor about something like this." She tries but the medic gives her a glare.
"If it's a medical problem, I need to be worried. It's my job." He states firmly. "Now, what seems to be the problem?"
The red-shirt gives him a nervous grin and backs up a bit, holding her hands up.
"It's nothing! Spock's overreacting!" The doctor and the Vulcan look at each other before looking back at her.
"Spock doesn't overreact." The medic states matter-of-factly as said commander steps up behind the girl silently and turns her around to face him. She yelps in pain at the sudden movement and catches herself with her palms on his chest. The Vulcan says nothing as he grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it up, exposing her bare back to the medic.
"Tch!" The sound of the medic's hiss behind her makes the girl cringe. She remains still as Spock continues to hold her shirt up for the doctor–just high enough to expose the wound on her lower back while preserving her modesty–watching the medic with his usual cool demeanor.
"Damn it _! Why the hell were you trying to hide this?!" The medic scolds harshly. She lets out a whimper of pain when she feels the doctor's careful hands glide around the wound, touching the sensitive skin around the area.
"I need to get this looked at now." He states, looking up at Spock who nods softly–the exchange going unnoticed by the girl. Before she has time to protest, the Vulcan lowers her shirt and grabs her shoulders, turning her and–with a grip still on her shoulders–guides her to follow the medic as he leads her towards one of the medical beds.
"Lay down on your stomach." McCoy orders and for once (for now) _ doesn't argue. Obediently, she lies down on the medical bed, stomach first, hiding her head in her arms. She felt her shirt being lifted, the fabric just barely missing her wound.
"How did you get this and when?" McCoy asks in an almost annoyed tone. She can hear the clatter of metal as he grabs his tools. Unsurprisingly, given the time of night, Nurse Chapel didn't seem to be around so the medic got his own supplies.
"I fell on the away mission and scratched my back against some funny looking rocks." She told him softly, voice half muffled by the fabric of her sleeves. He hummed softly in acknowledgement absently before her words seemed to catch up with him and she heard something clatter to the metal table beside her.
"The away mission was three days ago!" He yelled, making her wince.