Not Writing That Down
"Bridge to Mebay, Dr. McCoy is needed up here asap."
"McCoy to Bridge," a suspicious voice cut in. "Why?"
"Because I said so, Bones. That's why."
"Ah, yes. 'Because I said so.' That's some Spock-level logic right there, Captain Kirk. But I can't. 'M busy savin' lives."
"Nice try. Christine told me it's inventory day."
"Hmmm. Weird. I don't know where she got that. I'm elbow deep in gapping chest wounds."
"Bones, if you don't get down here in the next ten minutes, I'm telling everyone about that time Mrs. Carathan had that rope and she was wanting to-"
"…"
"…"
"On my way."
"That's what I thought. Kirk out."
Jim smirked as he leaned back in his chair.
Bones was ridiculously easy to wind up. In the category of things put mildly, Jim liked to push Bones' buttons; he practically lived for it. He got an adrenaline rush finding the right way to get the older man past his patience's already pre-stretched tolerance. On days when there was a dip in activity on the ship, he liked to spend his time crafting ways to annoy the shit out of Bones, to fluster him, to make his mouth scrunch up in a way that Jim knows means that Bones' is dangerously close to throwing the Hippocratic oath out the airlock. Bones' southern doctoral exasperation is the ultimate game to him.
And he's freakily good at it, if the tight-lipped growl of "You're an asshole," that greeted him eight minutes later was anything to go by.
"I know, I blame my wayward youth," he replied, clapping Bones on the shoulder as he stood up from his chair. He turned to Spock.
"Take the conn, Commander," he called out. He whistled lightly as he headed to the ready room, sure that Bones was following by the sound of his vengeful stomps across the floor.
"If you ever tell anyone that story I will beat you to death with my bare hands," Bones told him calmly as the door closed behind them.
"I know. But it worked to get you done here, didn't it?"
Amazing how a threat, an insult, and a nod of approval can all by packed into a single eyebrow raise.
"What am I doing here, Jim?" Bones asked, cocking his hip against the desk and folding his arms.
"Well," Jim sighed, pacing along the floor. "Full disclosure, you aren't going to like it."
Bones merely gave a grunt, indicating acceptance.
"And you need to understand that I am only saying this because I have to. I'm your friend, Bones, but I'm also Captain of this ship and I have certain things that need to be done specifically and I don't know if you know this but there is a lot that goes in to running a starship, never mind it's the fucking flagship we are talking-"
"Jesus, Jim! Spit it out!"
Jim took a deep breath that was more parts regretful sigh than anything.
"Okay."
He stopped in front of Bones.
"Okay," he started again. "So Spock and I were going through the ship's reports and we kind of noticed something was…missing."
Bones frowned, deeply and with confusion.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," Jim sighed.
"Aaaand?" Bones spit out.
Another deep breath from Jim.
"Your CMO's log," he said, finally looking up to meet Bones' eye. "You haven't written anything in two weeks."
Bones still stared at him, frowning.
"And?" he prompted again.
This time Jim's sigh was exasperated.
"And that's it," he told Bones. "You gotta do that at least three times a week, Bones!"
That seemed to get Bones' attention. He pushed off from the desk.
"Three times a week?" he stressed. "Why?"
"The brass needs to have them on file, Bones. For a record of how the ship is coming along," Jim pointed out, crossing his own arms. "The whole crew is still new. We have to reassure them we can do our jobs right."
"That's what I've been doing!" Bones snapped, his voice raising. "Any major surgeries or injuries from your planet-side trips. The important stuff goes in the reports."
Jim shook his head.
"No, that's not how it works. Reports are different. You can't just do those and call it good."
"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard! Of all the time-wastin', cotton-headed things to make us do, this takes the whole damn cake."
"I know, I know," Jim tried to calm him. "But you have to."
Jim paused before adding a desperate pout, carefully made to look subtle and saying "Please."
Bones softened. Slightly.
"Whatever," he finally snapped, though he had lost the edge. For such a determinedly sour person, Bones was also the person on the ship most likely to be swayed by well-timed, heartfelt theatrics.
"Thank you," Jim smiled. "Now don't you have gapping chest wounds to get back to."
"Yes, I do," Bones growled. "Big ones, with lots of blood, and lots of stitching and…"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jim interrupted. "I get it. Just make sure you write a report about it. You don't even have to actually write it! You just record it."
Bones waved his hand, hopefully in acceptance, as he headed out the door.
/
Stardate 283927.14
Because Jim likes his ego acknowledged at least twice a week, I was called to Bridge today and lectured about rules and regulations. Apparently, I'm slacking on updating the CMO's log, for some god-known reason. For whoever listens to these, it's gotta be said that I think having me record these things every day is quite possibly the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Just, you know, FYI.
I think Jim just likes to use his authority as a way to compensate for other things, if you know what I mean.
He has a small dick, is what I'm saying.
/
Stardate 295033.87
Christine has started wearing new perfume. It smells like lilacs. I'm also allergic to lilacs. I don't know how to tell her.
/
Stardate 366597.00
Flu outbreak down in the sub levels. Did you know that the engineering department can power a goddamn starship but they apparently can't remember to wash their hands?
Starfleet's best and brightest, ladies and gentlemen.
/
Stardate 236588.45
Acting CMO's log, recorded by Doctor William S. Toll.
The virus Dr. McCoy contracted while investigating the USS Farworth still remains unidentified. The symptoms do not match anything we have on record. Dr. McCoy is still locked in the isolation lab as a precaution. The lack of any violent mental breaks the last 24 hours seems to be a good indicator that the disease-whatever it was- has run its course. Barring any sudden complications, he will be released in the morning.
As per Starfleet's request, we are compiling all the information we have gathered the last few days, along with samples of Dr. McCoy's blood, in order to send back to Earth for further analysis.
/
Stardate Jim is a jackass
Due to a miscommunication, our infant captain led me, Commander Spock, and Lieutenant Sulu into the middle of a renegade pirate base that we had no business being on in the first place. Despite being ridiculously outmatched, we all escaped with nothing more than bumps and bruises.
/
Stardate 377749.05
The collective intelligence of our engineering department continues to astound me. After an explosion caused by the pulse confinement emitter overheating, Medbay was packed with injuries for the last 12 hours. Because of that, I missed pecan pie day in the caf and I swear to God, somebody somewhere is going to answer for this.
/
Stardate 563433.98
Paintball. Really, Jim?
/
Stardate 287569.56
Commander Spock was admitted today after getting nicked by phaser fire during a fight with some unfriendlies. He was delirious for most of the suturing, rambling on about how his wound was a reminder of the intent of matter to be matter or something like that. Leave it to Spock to turn his pain into some twisted, logistical form of poetry.
/
Stardate 433387.07
Scotty showed us the tattoo on his ass today. It was less awkward than any of us would have liked.
/
Stardate 336955.45
Made Chapel run a diagnostic on me to make sure I'm still sane. Because I was sure I had to have been knocked off the rocker in order to agree to get caught up in a stupid prank war. She tripled checked the results but it seems I'm completely fine.
Look at your life, Leonard. Look at your choices.
/
Stardate 299987.44
Reported back on duty this morning after nearly two weeks off. Luckily, the Cytherian flu I was exposed to during an away mission was not contagious or else the ship would have been in a whole mess of trouble. Still feel like shit, but if I spend one more minute in my quarters I am going to punch at least three different walls.
/
Stardate 367763.21
Fuck space pirates.
/
Stardate 399876.56
Captain Kirk has been missing for over seven hours. He is assumed dead.
/
Stardate 322459.01
Shore leave coming up. The whole crew is excited, but I can't really pretend to be. I mean, Nebraska? What fun can you expect to have in Nebraska?
/
Stardate 334870.11
Jim has a cold which, without exaggeration, is literally the worst thing that could have ever happened to this ship. Until he gets better, he's going to be one messy, whiny, pain in my ass. I do not get paid enough for this shit.
/
Stardate 401121.03
Spock is having problems with his love life. Which is simultaneously the most surprising and unsurprising sentence I thought I would ever have to say.
/
Stardate 312694.55
"Dr. Bones" is the stupidest goddamn nickname I have ever heard and if one more person calls me that, I'm going to rip out their rib cage with my bare hands.
/
Stardate 301114.31
Same ship, different day.
/
Author's Note:
Yeah, just a short chapter that was written out of writer's block. Nothin' fancy. All of Bones' log entries are references to past/future chapters. This chapter deserved more effort than I put into it and, for that, I apologize. I wrote it months ago and wasn't really feeling it. Anyways, onwards to better and brighter things.
-Ashley
Up Next: Not Bones