First, I need to apologize for the unreadability (is that a word? It is now!) of the first chapter.  I made the foolish mistake of saving a doc file.  Won't do it again.  Plus, Chapter 1 should be fixed now.

Second, I know, I know, I should get back to "Locked."  It's written, just not typed, and I only have so much time in the day.  I've just got back to school, and I discovered to my dismay that I actually have STUFF to do!  A lot.  But I just wanted to throw this out as my little "tribute" of sorts to De, whose birthday was yesterday (the 20th), which I thought of last week, then forgot, then was reminded again by Tavia.  So, in all its resplendent glory, here it is:

McCoy vs. The Door

            It happened all too quickly:  nobody was really quite sure what had just taken place.  The bridge was in total chaos; Scotty would most certainly be in deep trouble.  With someone, anyway.

            McCoy had collapsed to the floor, his hands trying to staunch the flow of blood, as his medical expertise had prepared him.  He could have had someone help him, had they not been collapsing themselves—in laughter.

            "I dink I bwoke by dose!" McCoy shouted, managing to combine pain, fury, and exasperation all in one short sentence, and still only got the response of pure laughter.

            Finally, Kirk caught his breath and stabbed a finger onto the comm button.  "Kirk to…Sickbay," he gasped.

            "Chapel here."  The response was prompt and efficient.

            "We need a—a medic—up on the bridge, Nurse," Kirk said, falling apart again.

            Long pause.  "Is there a…situation on the bridge, Captain?" Nurse Chapel asked hesitantly.

            That drew more laughter.  Kirk coughed, choked, coughed again, and tried to respond.  "A situation?" his voice raised in pitch as he attempted to keep his composure.  He glanced back at McCoy, who was busy glaring at him with blood seeping between his fingers.  "You might call it that."

            "I'll be right up."  Nurse Chapel signed off.

            All had been calm just moments before.  McCoy had come by on his rounds, in which he primarily criticized Kirk for avoiding his physical and tried to start an argument with Spock.

            "I don't know why you call it an annual physical when you get on my case at least every other week about it," Kirk complained.

            "That would be because you keep putting it off every other week," McCoy explained impatiently.  "And then you conveniently manage to get into a brawl with a Klingon and disrupt my whole schedule."

            "It's not my fault Klingons enjoy fighting," Kirk replied haughtily.

            "And you, Spock, you're another thing entirely."  McCoy turned on the science officer.

            Spock looked up innocently.  "Me, Doctor?  I have always reported for my examinations in an expedient fashion."

            "Ha!  That's what you think!  How about that time you decided Sparky the Comet was more fascinating" he stressed the word heavily "than your health?"

            "What are you referring to?" Spock asked calmly.

            McCoy narrowed his eyes to slits, partly in anger at Spock's audacity, partly in deep thought.  "I think it was…Stardate 2682 or so…"  A light bulb could have illuminated itself above his head.  "I'll go check my records and prove you wrong!"  He turned and darted off.

            And then it happened.  The door malfunctioned.

            This wasn't the first time, of course.  It happened every once in a while.  But it hadn't happened when McCoy was in full charge, a man with a mission:  proving Spock wrong.  It hadn't happened…until now, of course.

            There was a thunk, unbelievably loud considering the circumstances, immediately followed by an unearthly howl which lasted several painfully long seconds.  Kirk knew something was wrong.  He hadn't heard the swoosh of the turbolift doors opening.

            He spun around in his chair, ready to leap to McCoy's aid, but somehow the sight of the doctor doddering around, eyes tearing, hands flailing to his busted face, struck Kirk as unaccountably hilarious.  He fell back in his chair.

            Everyone else joined in just because they had to.

            McCoy wasn't happy about it.  But then, was he ever really happy?

            Kirk finally got up to go and kneel at McCoy's side.  Spock was already there, having responded almost immediately on account of he hadn't wasted valuable time laughing.  "Are you all right, Bones?"

            "Funny ding, actually," McCoy said in a fairly reserved voice, "Afder a while, it just dickles."  Spock reached for McCoy's nose, but he frantically fought him off with one hand.  "Leave me alone!"

            "Aren't you overreacting just a bit, Bones?" Kirk asked, smiling.

            McCoy's hand curled into a fist.  "Dho.  I'm dhot."

            "Doctor," Spock began, his face completely impassive.

            McCoy tightened his fist in Spock's direction.  "If you say anyding, I'll hit you so hard, your kids'll be born dizzy."  This was the clearest thing that came from his mouth yet.

            "How would one punch affect offspring which I do not—and shall not in the foreseeable future—have?"

            McCoy just moaned.

            Kirk frowned.  "How can you be in so much pain over a little thing like this?  You've been injured worse than a broken nose, and it hasn't bothered you…"

            "Bwould you like do experience it yourself?"  McCoy raised his fist again, covered in blood from his nose.

            Kirk started to laugh again.  The sight of McCoy trying to threaten while curled up on the floor—while intimidating to some degree—simply cracked him up.  "Well, maybe if you didn't go charging into doors, you wouldn't choke hurt yourself."

            "You go charging indo doors all the dime."

            "But they open for me.  I'm the captain."

            The turbolift doors opened then, perfectly smoothly, and Nurse Chapel stepped out, medikit in hand.

            "Sure, it works for her!" McCoy growled.

            "Oh!  Doctor!  What happened!  Was there an alien entity on the bridge that slugged you before it escaped?"  Nurse Chapel didn't sound as sincere as she could have.

            "Great!" McCoy muttered, his voice becoming even more distorted by the blood buildup (don't mean to sound disgusting).  "My own zdaff durns againzd be."

            "Let's get you down to Sickbay."  Nurse Chapel gestured, and Spock and Kirk reached to help McCoy to his feet.  They led him the few steps to the lift, where he held back defiantly.

            "Oh, no!  I'm not going near that thing!"  He was anxious and frantic.

            Kirk rolled his eyes.  "Bones—it's a door."

            "A door that's trying to inflict bodily harm on me!  A malicious door!"

            Kirk let go of McCoy—who almost fell in the sudden shift of weight, except Spock was there—and strode forward confidently.  The door opened smoothly and efficiently.  McCoy stared.

            "It's safe now," Kirk said, almost mockingly, as the door stayed open.

            McCoy unhappily walked into the lift, eyeing the door frame suspiciously as he passed.

            Kirk stepped back out of the lift, and the doors slid shut, operating under perfectly normal parameters.

            "First it's transporters, now the doors," Kirk grumbled, shaking his head.  "What next, the replicators?  The clipboards?"

*   *   *

            Kirk and Spock visited McCoy later in Sickbay, when they assumed the doctor would be much calmer.  He was calmer, but not by much.

            McCoy was sitting at his desk, doing paperwork as if the entire day had been boring and routine.  The difference in this picture was the large white bandage covering his nose.  Since the bandage took up the central part of McCoy's face, besides simply looking comically enormous, it unfortunately caused anyone in contact with McCoy to stare blankly at the main focus point.  This infuriated him.  By this time, McCoy had taken to studiously ignoring anyone who tried to talk to him.

            "How is it, Bones?" Kirk asked as he approached, repressing a smile with great effort.  McCoy kept his head down and continued writing.  "Bones?"  Kirk leaned over his desk.

            Without looking up, McCoy muttered grudgingly, "Broken, but it's fixed."  His voice was muffled by the bandage.

            Kirk nodded.  "Good to hear.  Those doors, they must really have it in for you.  Wonder what happened with it, anyway—momentary glitch?"

            "I believe I can explain, Captain," Spock offered.  McCoy finally lifted his head, revealing the extent of the damage—a sickly purplish bruise forming under his eyes, spread outward from the bridge of his nose, partially covered by the bandage.  He looked at Spock expectantly.

            "I consulted Mr. Scott to determine what caused the turbolift door malfunction.  At that particular moment in time, Mr. Scott took the door mechanism off-line to perform a diagnostic.  The diagnostic took approximately two point three-seven seconds, so your collision with the door was simply a matter of chance."

            Kirk stroked his chin thoughtfully.  "So, technically, it wasn't even a malfunction."

            Spock shook his head slightly.  "No.  A simple diagnostic."

            McCoy stared at Spock.  "Tell Scoddy I'm going do kill him," he said evenly.

            Kirk's lips twitched upward at the corners.  "As long as he doesn't die laughing at the sight of you!"

            McCoy slapped a hand on the desk.  "That's it!  I don't want to hear another wisecrack from you!"

            Kirk held his hands up, palms facing outward.  "Fine!  Fine.  I won't say another word about it."   He adopted a casual front.  "Maybe you've been working a little too hard today, Bones.  Care to take a break, join us in the Rec Room?"

            McCoy studied them, his eyes passing from Kirk to Spock and back, as if anticipating a trick.  Then he relented with a sigh and stood up.  "I suppose I could use a break."

            Kirk gestured grandly toward the door.  "Why don't you give it a try?  Prove that they don't have it in for you."

            McCoy scowled, but followed the captain's suggestion.  He walked up to the door warily.  He stopped an inch from the closed door, and quickly backed away, as if it would reach out and bite him.  Everyone was surprised, but only McCoy was frenzied.

            "I did not plan that!  Honest!"  Kirk was sincere.

            Wild-eyed, McCoy cried, "Forget it!  I'm stayin' right here!"

            Then the door opened ominously.  Everyone stared, until it glided shut again a few seconds later.

            "Another…diagnostic?" Kirk asked.

            "Perhaps.  The probability of McCoy encountering two such doors in one day is quite small, but possible."

            McCoy waved a hand.  "Don't quote odds to me!  I don't care!  You can get killed going for a cup of coffee on this ultramodern, technologically advanced starship."  He sat back down.

            Spock blinked.  "I shall go check with Mr. Scott.  This is…intriguing."  He walked directly toward the door without hesitation.  It opened without hesitation, and Spock calmly left.

            McCoy watched this a mix between fascination and disgust.  "He thinks it's intriguing that I get my nose broken and nearly get attacked again.  The ship is plotting to kill me and he says, 'Fascinating.'"

            "I didn't actually hear him say 'fascinating,'" Kirk corrected.

            "Close enough," McCoy grumbled.

            "So, Bones," Kirk said casually, backing toward the door.  "I guess with your injury and all, you'll have to wait a few days to take care of my physical, huh?"

            "What?"  McCoy was confused for a second.  "Oh, that's right.  Thanks for reminding me.  You just said you were heading for the Rec Room.  That means you have plenty of time for a check-up."  McCoy began to stand again.

            Kirk almost panicked.  "What about Spock?  Weren't you going to check your records about him?" he said quickly.

            McCoy grew thoughtful.  "That's right.  I was."  He pulled a computer screen on a pivoting base within reach, and keyed in a few commands.

            From halfway across the room, Kirk asked, "So, do you at least get to stick it to Spock?"

            McCoy was silent as he scanned Spock's records.  He smacked his hand on the desk.  "Dammit.  He was right all along."

            Kirk headed for the door again.  "Well, that's too bad.  But then, you can't win 'em all, can you?  Well, I should get back to the bridge.  Any minute now, we could be attacked by Rabscallian pirates…"

            McCoy scowled.  "By who pirates?"

            The door opened behind Kirk as he approached backwards.  Kirk slipped out with a smile.  "Later, Bones."

            "Get back here!" McCoy shouted.  It was a command empty of threat.

Kirk couldn't help but laugh at the anxious and frustrated look on McCoy's face as the door slid shut in his face, cutting him off from Kirk and his exam.

            Kirk shook his head and walked away.  "Rabscallian.  There's an excuse I'll have to remember the next time he brings up physicals."

I was going to add these at the beginning, but I'll just throw them in now.

Tavia:  Chemical…equations?  I don't know about that.  Sadly, the only real memory I have of chemistry is when I included my chem teacher in a Gilligan's Island parody comic strip that was very my-school specific in that the roles were played by my teachers.  He was the Professor.  I wrote for my school newspaper, the comic was a one-shot deal, but it's given me my cartoonist beginnings…

Sarah:  For some reason, your review doesn't show up on ff.n, but it came to my inbox.  Thanks for the review!  Term papers?  I dunno, I'm on a whole new semester, I've kinda forgotten those.  To give you a clue of how smart I am, I got 3 A's and 1 A- last semester.  Which is pretty good.  If I had written an actual conclusion in one paper, I probably would have had enough points for an A.  Alas.  Never underestimate the importance of conclusions.

Up next:  I dunno vs. Something else!