Fandom: Star Trek 2009
Title: Exam Room 2 / Part 1 of 2
Characters/pairings: McCoy and Scotty-centric, with Jim, Keenser
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1799
Disclaimer: I don't own ST09
Author's note:This story focuses on McCoy and Scotty. Exam Rooms is a series of short stories that examinesMcCoy's character while he treats colleagues and friends aboard the newly launched Enterprise. Keenser is Scotty's little green alien friend that has a propensity to climb on things and appears in the new movie. I thought he was so cute that I had to write him into ff. A huge thank you to my beta Kimbari, that keeps me to rule book!
Summary: McCoy discovers Scotty suffering from a broken heart. Drinking and comedy ensue.
Part 1: Lost
It was too damn early in the morning to be preparing for an exploratory visit to an unidentified world. The Enterprise's basic computer scan had shown that this ball of dirt was a Class M planet. It had an oxygen atmosphere, clean water and abundant plant life, etc. etc. That was very well and good, but did it have Orillian lung maggots? Those could make swiss cheese out of your respratrory system in about 3 hours and what about Levodian flu or Navatine mosquitos? And god forbid, if the environment carried the bug for Andorian Shingles! He'd seen a case in medical school -- the patient's eyeballs had bled!
"Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence!" he said emphatically as he walked down the hallway of the Enterprise with large strides, face hard set.
A young yeoman crossing his path cowered and replied, "Um, aye, sir."
McCoy rolled his eyes. He really needed to stop talking to himself, it was upsetting the crew and frankly, it was beginning to bother him, too. He paused in front of Engineering and the doors swished open. To McCoy's surprise, the large room was empty except for the quiet hum of the ship's engines.
"Hey Scotty, you here?" the doctor called out. He banged on the front console. "Scotty, come on out, Captain needs those readings." Then somewhat quieter, "I need those medical readings!"
A low moaning arose from the other side of the engineering panel. "Ugh! Ya dinna need to shout!"
McCoy leaned over the control board and huffed as he saw a very disheveled Montgomery Scott sprawled in the floor. "What the hell are you doing down there?"
"What the hell are you doin' there?!" Scott said wide eyed. "Doctor and... doctor?"
McCoy came around the console. Was the man seeing double? An empty bottle of Glenfiddich rested by his outstretched arm. McCoy touched his own forehead briefly in disbelief. "You're drunk; you're blasted drunk!"
Montgomery Scott sat up quickly, "' Och, aye. It's my night off! I can do whatever the bloody hell I want to do, whenever I want to do it and nobody can tell me what to do, especially not you Keenser!" Trying to take a swig from the empty bottle, he dropped it to the floor. "Bollocks!"
McCoy grasped the Scotsman's shoulder and gave him a little shake. "It's 0800 and I am Doctor McCoy.
Scotty snarled, his face incredulous. "Well, of course you are! You're a doctor not a no good, low down, love-you leave-you craggy little gremlin!" Scotty turned his head to the side and sniffed. Then wiping his tears on the back of his hand. "Bollocks that wee devil. He left me. Got in the bloody transporter and... and pushed the button!"
McCoy was shocked. He didn't know the man was so close to the little engineering creature. Scotty sobbed. McCoy instinctively put an arm around him which only led to more drunken wailing and slobbering on his shoulder. As much as the doctor wanted to yell at him, drunk or not, the engineer's sorrow was real. "Hell, I shouldn't be doing this Scotty, but I'm going to help you out just this once."
Between staccato sobs, Scott's tearful brown eyes looked up, "You can bring him back?"
"No," McCoy said gruffly, "But I can sober you up so you can do your god damn duty and avoid a court martial for being drunk at your post. I swear, if Jim finds out..." He shook his head.
Scotty hiccuped, his voice sad. "I suppose that will be just as well doctor, it bein' mornin' and all." McCoy put an arm under his shoulder to help him stand. "If they love ya, they'll come back to ya and if they don't... Oh, ye wee feckin' shiter, I love'd ya!" he cried, then head falling forward, Officer Scott passed out.
Thirty minutes later....
"Jesus, Mary, Joseph!" The engineer yelled slamming his body instantly upright. "Doctor?! Where the hell am I?"
"You're in the medical bay and that sounded more Irish than Scottish," McCoy noted as he busily entered information into his PADD.
"I had an Irish granny," Scotty said off-handily and then grinned widely.
"Did you now?" McCoy replied uninterested.
"Wow! I feel fantastic! What'd you give me, doc? I'm completely sober."
McCoy finally looked up. "Good. Then you can get your scraggly Scottish ass back to engineering and run those scans."
Scotty bounced off the exam table. Flexed his skinny arms like a weightlifter, he then started high-step running in place. "I haven't felt this healthy since I was a lad. I could climb Ben Nevis, I could swim Loch Ness, I could--"
"Don't get too excited, officer. The effect of a Chlorohydeptic hydro will only last about five hours and then the effects of your earlier drinking will kick in."
Scotty paused mid jumping-jack. "No!"
McCoy smiled, "Yes, and usually about twice as bad."
"'Och, doctor! Why dinna you tell me before you shot me up?"
"You weren't really in any condition to make a choice, Scott."
The engineering officer hung his head in defeat. "Fair play, doctor, fair play. I guess I ought to be thanking you."
McCoy nodded, "And you can do that by getting me those medical scans as soon as possible."
Scotty slumped his shoulders as he exited Exam Room 2.
"Officer Scott," McCoy stepped forward putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "There is one thing that can make your hangover not as bad."
Scotty's eyebrows popped up. "A wee hair of the dog?"
"Similia similibus curentur. 'Like cures like', so said Hippocrates."
"Well doctor, when I get off my shift, it will be five o'clock somewhere in the universe."
McCoy laughed. How many times had he said the same thing before cozying up to a bar stool and a bottle of bourbon. It took a hard drinker to know a hard drinker.
"I owe you a pint, doctor and a second for Hippocrates," Scott called back to a now scowling McCoy before exiting the medical bay. "I know! Right after I get you those scans."
It was nearly 8pm when the McCoy finished his work and decided he'd take Scott up on that offer of a pint. He stood outside Scott's door and declared himself.
"You're late, doctor, it's far past five." Scott smiled. "Scotch neat?"
"Sounds right." McCoy smirked.
"I hope scotch is okay, doctor. Starfleet doesn't stock Tennent's and the rest of the ale's taste like a Glasgow curlew."
McCoy lifted a cup, "This is more my kind of drink anyway." McCoy took a deep sip and savored the peaty burn of the Scottish liquid.
"Glenmorangie. It's the finest highland scotch in the universe. From me hometown; well, until we moved to Aberdeen when I was fifteen." Scott took a sip, and hummed. "Mmm...That's mother's milk it is." Then closing his eyes, "Makes it all better."
McCoy couldn't agree more. He, too, shared a love affair with the bottle. "So,you find your creature?"
"That's no creature, doc, that's Keenser! He's a...a... Well, I don't know what the hell he is but he's awfully useful around the engineering bay."
McCoy suspected Scott was more attached to the little alien than just as an engineering assistant. Turning the glass around in his hands, "So, an unknown alien, huh?"
"Yep. Found him at the station when I was out-posted to Delta Vega. His last master had just left him behind all alone." Scotty shook his head, eyes distant.
"So you're his master?" McCoy asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Well... I use that word for the lack of a better one, doctor. Keenser is like..." Scott turned to face McCoy straight on, "Well, Keenser is like a loyal dog, an overactive six year old and a really good mechanic. I said some things I shouldn't have said and it finally drove him away... Unfortunately, I'm good at that."
"So am I, Scott." McCoy emptied his glass and poured himself another.
Looking up to the doctor, eyes playful, the Scotsman said, "So you've lost a pet alien as well?"
"I lost a human wife."
Scott took a sip of his drink and although McCoy expected the engineer to offer him some awkward apology or comforting words, the man instead laughed. "I swear half the men on this ship are here because they're running from some lassie!"
McCoy shrugged. "And what are you running from?"
Scott smiled, "I canna say." Then turning the drink between his thin fingers, voice distant. "I'm running from... from a lassie as well I suppose. My daughter..."
The doctor was silent. A wise physician once told him that Catholics had priests, but Protestants had doctors. Every man was seeking absolution from something.
"I was nineteen and working at a textile factory in Aberdeen. Jama's mother dinna want to marry me, thought she could do better than a factory man even with the babe. Moved down South and married some posh shuttle salesman in Lancashire."
Another drink refill.
"I tried to stay in her life, but her mother didn't really want it and in the end, she didn't even know who I was." Scotty licked his lips, his chest rising and falling heavily. "You have kids, McCoy?"
"No. We tried, but..." McCoy shook his head, studied his glass intently, "Just wouldn't ever take."
"Just as well," Scott replied raising the amber liquid to his lips. "Better to avoid the heart-break of losing them."
There was a long silence between them. There was nothing to be said. Misery loved company.
"You want to finish the bottle, Scott?" McCoy asked suddenly.
"Aye, doctor." He raised his glass for a toast, "Hair of the dog."
Somewhere around 2200 hours McCoy hauled his bones back to his quarters and to bed. To sleep perchance, to dream, Ah, there's the rub... At 0600 hours, he and his old bones awakened, and they were comfortably, not alone...
TBC
Author's Note: Reviews, ideas, comments appreciated!
