Based on characters created by Gene Roddenberry & Paramount.
Chapter 1—How I met the Captain
"Lieutenant Chapel!" the voice penetrated the blackness. Was I dead? I tried opening my eyes, but there was nothing but smoke and darkness. I felt the warm stickiness ooze out from my leg and felt nothing. I was being shaken and ordered to wake up. No! It felt too good to be asleep. Go away, I'm drifting off. The last thing I remember seeing was the face of Dr. McCoy looking at me. I smiled weakly.
"Too bad I'm dead," I whispered and reached for his face. "I've always loved you."
The next thing I remember was excruciating pain. I cried out once as my leg felt like it was being ripped off. I held on to the first thing that was I reached. It was a hand.
"Christine," the familiar voice rang in my ears. There he was again. His beautiful face was looking down at me. His eyebrows were drawn together in a look of concern. "The pain's going to stop in a second, I promise you, we have to wrench your knee back in place. Hold on, okay?"
"Okay," I murmured through gritted teeth. I held on to his hand, squeezing it hard. He grunted once but let me hold on. "Mother fucker!" I yelled.
When the Enterprise was attacked, the shields held but there was residual damage to sick bay and engineering. A heavy imaging device had been knocked loose and landed on my leg, dislocating my knee and making a large cut to the femoral artery. Bleeding to death was a lot less painful, I thought, than having someone "relocate" my knee cap.
I was pumped up with a wide variety of pain killers after my knee cap was snapped into place. Apparently holding me down was the worse part since I managed to break a poor corpsman's nose. "Cocksucking son of a bitch," I continued until the pain disappeared.
The hole in my leg had already been repaired, but there blood all over the place, including the walls and ceiling and splattered over the equipment. I felt dizzy and nauseated. I sat up threw up all over the good doctor. "Sorry," I muttered before passing out again.
After having only been on board the ship for a week, I was making one hell of an impression on the doctor I had inadvertently professed my undying love. I was much too embarrassed to open my eyes again. Time had passed, how long, I wasn't certain; the sickbay smelled like welding and I heard voices and sounds of power tools. I squinted and peered out, hoping the chief medical officer wasn't staring at me. There were a couple of corpsmen twittering about and the folks from maintenance and construction engineers fixing the parts that had fallen during the attack. The bunks were full of the injured; most of them far worse than I. I started to get up, but a hand held me down. It wasn't Dr. McCoy, so I relaxed a little. I squinted again trying to get everything back into focus.
"Okay asshole," I said. "May I please get up?" I started to fling the hand off my chest, but the face came into focus. "Oh shit," I said. "Sorry Captain."
The ship's captain, James T. Kirk was standing over me, holding me down. And I had just cursed at him. Well, fuck me; this was going to be the shortest naval career in the history of Star Fleet Command; and a Chapel had served continuously in one form or another since the American Revolution in the 18th century.
"Sorry, lieutenant, there was a cable over head and I was afraid you were going to get strangled on it. How are you, by the way? Dr. McCoy told me you got a nasty bump on your head as well as your other injuries."
"Apparently suffering from Tourette's Syndrome, sir, brought on no doubt by the blow to the head," I managed weakly.
The captain laughed He had a pleasant laugh. This was the first time I'd seen him since I'd arrived on the Enterprise. He certainly was handsome, just like he was described to me by the other nurses on board. He was also very young to be a star ship commander.
He pushed the cable away and helped me sit up. "There you go," he said.
"Thank you, Captain," I said.
"Call me Jim. And you are Christy, right?" he asked.
"Christine," I corrected. The last time I was called Christy I was thirteen years old and had a crush on a boy named Nicky.
"Forgive me, Christine." He bowed his head. "So, how do you like the Enterprise?"
"Magnificent ship, sir, er, Jim. It's an honor to serve on her."
Jim grinned again. "I knew there was something I liked about you."
I blushed. "I'm ready to go back to work," I said unnecessarily. So much for small talk.
"Since I'm not the ship's doctor, I'm afraid I can't release you" He looked around. "Ah, Bones," he called. "Your young lieutenant is up and about and ready to go back to work."
Dr. McCoy looked surly. I'm sure he didn't appreciate having me described as 'his' lieutenant. "Sure," he said sarcastically. "Go ahead, get up and then fall on your face putting yourself out of commission for another three days. No problem."
"I'm feeling fine, doctor. I know you can use my help."
"Since you're the only nurse aboard the whole ship, how could I possibly manage without you?"
That was uncalled for. I blushed deeper. I knew the smart thing was to hold my tongue, nod and say yes sir, but that's really never been my style. "Since I'm the best nurse aboard, you'd do well to release me for duty since it looks to me you can use my help. That is, if you want things done right."
The captain snorted then looked around innocently. He was desperately trying to not laugh because Dr. McCoy's expression was absolutely comical. Apparently none of the medical staff had ever talked back to him before. Now I knew I was a goner.
"I like her," Jim said, slapping Dr. McCoy on the back. "Better put her back to work. She looks like a worse patient than you." He looked at me. "And he is the absolute worst."
"Thank you, Captain," McCoy said sarcastically, "for running sick bay for me. I guess now you want a medical degree, since you know so damn much about medicine."
Jim threw his arm around my shoulder. "Don't worry, Christine, he's this surly to everyone. Don't let it bother you. Oh, and I'd be honored if you'd join me for dinner tonight. That is if the good doctor will release you."
I avoided looking at Dr. McCoy. "Thank you, sir. It would be an honor."
This time it was Dr. McCoy's turn to snort.