Seven
"If you want to know how to cook a proper meal, the best way to do it is by watchin'," Hannah McCoy said as she went over the ingredients that were being used.
Emily peered over the counter to where she kept a variety of vegetables that were picked from their garden out back along with a few pieces of meat from the freezer. Doctor McCoy's wife had insisted on showing her how to cook after realizing she'd never seen a stove before. Or a kitchen for that matter. The mess hall had always provided free meals in the form of replicators. She wasn't used to having to work for her food or having such a variety of flavors for that matter. The first few days she had dinner with Coulson had been incredibly awkward, because he usually didn't have the time to cook a meal. So whenever she ordered something it was usually light or hardly anything at all.
Now she was suddenly thrown into a world that was full of color, life and flavors. And she realized with a start that she loved it. She was beginning to understand why people spent so much time at their dwellings rather than in the workforce. Hannah was kind and accepting towards her, if not patient when it came to her uncertainty. Her confidence around the family had also begun growing, though she was still wary around their kid. McCoy had made it a point to ignore her whenever possible, and the feelings were entirely mutual. She knew talking to him would only lead to trouble in the future, and she didn't plan on making friends.
The few times she'd actually seen McCoy, they would usually stare at each other for minutes on end before he finally tore his gaze away and left. Those moments were incredibly awkward for both herself and McCoy. Neither were sure how to act around each other. They tolerated one another whenever his parents were around or whenever Coulson was around, but they never spoke to each other. Not that Emily wasn't surprised by the notion. She preferred keeping it that way after seeing his reaction the first time they'd met. And she suspected he felt equally unnerved after seeing how she reacted to his presence.
"I'm not used to eating something so large," she admitted after Hannah moved from boiling the water to cutting the vegetables.
She later learned that lettuce, celery, tomatoes and carrots were some of the many ingredients Hannah used in her recipes. She was even more surprised that other ingredients such as seasoning was also used in meals. The whole process was overwhelming at best. But the more information she took in, the more she began to understand that this was a vital part of southern living. And she couldn't help but wonder at the fact that Hannah had so much patience for the dozens of questions that were usually asked. If anything, the older woman seemed to appreciate her growing curiosity and fascination.
"Oh just you wait," Hannah reassured her with a knowing wink, "During the holidays I usually cook for a whole squadron of people. The family usually stops by and eats everything in the house if I give 'em the choice."
Emily couldn't help but cringe at the thought of being surrounded by so many people. She was only just beginning to open up to this family. She realized there was so much more to Earth than she first imagined. What surprised her the most were the holidays that were still celebrated. Since there were so many different cultures and aliens living on the Atlantis and the Kelvin, holidays were never celebrated. When Hannah first talked about a holiday known as Christmas, she wasn't sure what to make of it. Apparently people gathered from all over and passed on traditions such as 'caroling' for strangers and going to 'church'. Then there were the presents that were handed to the people they considered friends and family. She wasn't entirely sure of the meaning behind the presents, but Hannah explained to her that it was a message of faith and good will. The whole thing sounded confusing and overwhelming, but she didn't bother pointing that out.
Once dinner was finished being prepared, Emily found herself wandering down the hallway of their home. Since Coulson and Doctor McCoy usually worked long hours, she spent most of her time at the McCoy's. Maria would occasionally stop by when she wasn't busy working, but that was few and in between. Emily had finally begun to adjust to this sort of life. Or at least she thought she had. It wasn't until spotting a familiar figure sitting on the couch that Emily froze on instinct.
McCoy was an unknown variable in her life. He had ignored her throughout most of the times they were forced to be together. Neither of them said a word to one another whenever they were alone, but she could feel the disdain rolling off of him in waves whenever they were alone. He didn't trust her, and the feelings were entirely mutual. Yet there was something else lingering that she couldn't quite describe.
"I don't know why they're spending so much time with you," he finally cut through the tense, awkward silence. Emily stiffened when his hazel eyes reached hers. Not for the first time, she couldn't help but wonder the same thing. "It ain't as if you're any different from everyone else."
He added the last part with a shrug, looking almost bored. And it only took a split second for her to recognize the signs. He was jealous of her. The thought sent a shiver of fear through her. She knew his family had gone out of their way to help her acclimate to this world. But the moment someone else began feeding off of it, it became too good to be true.
Instead of saying anything in response, she clenched her jaw and left without another word. At that point talking would only make things worse.
I didn't come here looking for trouble, she thought bitterly.
She doubted he would ever understand what she had been through, much less care. And it was at that point when she realized just how alone she was in this world.
.
.
A month had passed since Coulson moved to Savannah, Georgia and became neighbors with the McCoy's. Since then Emily had adjusted fairly well to life on Earth. She was still nervous around strangers and refused to speak unless she was spoken to by them. Coulson was the only person she really opened up to. She'd given up trying to reach out to McCoy's parents. After realizing that he was jealous over the fact that they tried spending more time with her, she knew better than to push her limits. Her behavior around them or McCoy hadn't gone by unnoticed with Coulson or his father. She had little doubt they were worried over whether or not this venture had been worth the risk.
I'm not worth it, she reminded herself silently.
She'd tried hiding it around Coulson. She did a good job at keeping to herself whenever visitors stopped by. But whenever Coulson dropped her off at the McCoy's, it was harder to hide. She'd simply shut down whenever Hannah tried approaching her, shrinking further into herself. Things didn't get much better when the storms had begun striking. During the summer the heat made weather anomalies that much more intense.
Emily had been staying with the family while Coulson was at work when a storm hit the area. When the skies began turning a darker shade of gray and black, she became more agitated. Then came the lightning that streaked across the sky. Her heart began racing as a loud crashing sound followed seconds later. She watched in terror as the lightning continued illuminating the sky, streaking across like angry fire. She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she heard someone cut through the violent turbulence in her stomach.
"Ma, I think the power's going out." Of course it was McCoy.
His voice sounded distant, though she sensed he wasn't far away. Images suddenly flickered across her vision, nearly blinding her in the process. Within seconds she suddenly found herself standing on the bridge of the Kelvin once more. Terror gripped her chest when she spotted Kirk trying to save as many lives as possible. Everything felt as though it was on fire. The flames dancing before her engulfed the bridge, along with Kirk himself. The moment his face loomed over her was when she dropped to a crouch, wrapping her arms around her legs in the process.
"Don't make me go in there," she whispered, feeling a soundless wail threaten to escape her lungs. It wasn't until feeling a pair of arms wrap around her when tears began blurring the edge of her vision. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" she choked out.
"It's okay," Kirk whispered, only it wasn't his voice she heard. She couldn't tell who was holding her, but she knew in that moment that it wasn't Kirk. "You're safe."
Her heart was still racing with panic, but as time seemed to drag on, a hand began rubbing along her back in small, tight circles. It took a few seconds for her to register that the hand in question belonged to Doctor McCoy. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since he arrived, but she knew she must have been a mess if he was there.
By the time her vision began to clear, Emily found herself back in their living space. Her eyes still stung from crying, but through the haze of her vision, she noticed with a start that the room itself looked as though it had been torn apart. Debris from the shelves lay scattered across the floor, and the lights were still flickering on and off. It took everything she had to regain control over her emotions.
"What happened?" McCoy asked once the initial threat was clear.
"Panic attack," his father replied without missing a beat. Guilt stabbed her in the chest when she realized what he meant by that. She'd lost control of her emotions. She could have easily hurt them had he not shown up in time. "And a pretty mild one at that."
"Lordie, if that was a mild attack I can't imagine what it must be like when she's in control," Hannah remarked after seeing the damage.
Emily blinked a few times as she felt Doctor McCoy's piercing eyes bore through her. She knew he was likely worried she would lose control again. Her heart-rate had finally reached a normal level, and she was no longer hyperventilating. Her legs were still shaking, but she suspected that was from the shock of what just happened.
She finally glanced around in time to see that the room really was a mess. The lights at least stopped flickering on and off. But one look from Doctor McCoy told her she was in trouble. The doctor hesitated for a brief moment after noticing how terrified she still looked. She cringed at his touch, realizing with a start that all of this was her fault.
"Are you alright?" he finally asked after making sure she was stable.
When she gave a reluctant nod, she looked back at the mess she made and let out a heavy sigh.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, feeling guiltier than ever for being the reason behind said mess.
It wasn't until Doctor McCoy gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze that she stiffened and glanced at him warily.
"It's alright," he reassured her. "We'll take care of it." She couldn't help but stare at him in surprise as he shared a knowing look with Hannah, who seemed equally disturbed with what just happened. She hardly noticed the storm was still raging outside when a crack of thunder suddenly shook the house, causing her to flinch once more. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
She didn't know how to answer. She could feel his son's gaze boring through her as well, though for a different reason. He looked terrified after realizing she was the reason behind this mess. More so as he understood just how dangerous she really was. She swallowed hard and looked down at the floor guiltily, realizing with a start that she didn't want to talk about it. He was ready to say something else when McCoy suddenly turned the holoscreen on, trying to forget what just happened.
'It's been two months since the USS Kelvin was ambushed by what we now know are Romulans.' Emily stiffened at the sound of a female's voice echoing through what appeared to be a news broadcast. 'Of the victims from the destruction is the late Captain George Kirk, and that of four year old. Reports are already underway that the Federation has—'
"Leo, turn that off," Hannah scolded him after noticing how pale she turned.
McCoy let out a sigh of frustration and did just that, though not without noticing the image sweeping across the screen. His eyes widened in disbelief when an image of the very four-year-old from the Kelvin incident was almost identical to Emily. He blinked a few times in surprise as he tried looking for the image again, only to feel his mother's hand swat his shoulder and turn the holoscreen off seconds later.
"You were on that ship?" he asked in disbelief. It only took a split second for him to notice the burn scars covering her shoulders for the first time. "How did you—"
"Leo!" McCoy's jaw clenched shut when his father threw him a warning look.
Her own jaw clenched, but despite her determination to show that she wasn't afraid, her body was trembling. She finally tore herself free from Doctor McCoy's grip, wanting nothing more than to escape before she was questioned any further. She ran before McCoy could ask any other questions, feeling guiltier than ever as understanding dawned on her.
I'm not worth it, she reminded herself once more.
.
.
"… Found her before the storm ended. We would've found her sooner if it hadn't been for the lightning being so close."
McCoy listened halfheartedly as his father explained what had happened just a couple of hours ago. It was well past his usual bedtime, but after today's events his parents had been forgotten. All because of some crazy kid they decided to keep an eye on while their friend was off at work. He wasn't sure what his parent's obsession was over that girl. About the only thing he did know was that she was trouble. She had been from the first day she and their friend moved into the house next door. After the way she had been acting since they arrived, he couldn't shake off the feeling that she was up to no good.
Yet the moment he saw the news report on the USS Kelvin, he became more aware that there was more to her than meets the eye.
For one thing, she'd nearly caused a power outage. Then there was the fact that objects had begun flying around the living room. He hadn't known what to do until his father arrived, staring at the scene before them in disbelief. It was only until his father had reached the girl that McCoy noticed something off about her. She was in tears by the time his father reached her and pulled her into a tight embrace. She kept apologizing, though McCoy had a feeling it wasn't his father she was apologizing to.
"I should've known something like this would happen," the man known as Coulson shook his head in what McCoy assumed was annoyance. "The weather forecast was calling for thunderstorms, and she's never really experienced weather anomalies until tonight."
"You failed to mention the lightning storm before the Kelvin was ambushed," his father pressed with a hard-eyed look. "I know she was on that ship when it went up, and I'm guessing she was on the bridge when it happened if she was able to see everything."
A shiver of dread swept through McCoy when he realized what his father was implying. After seeing that news report, he knew the girl had gone through something traumatic. He hadn't known until then just how terrible it was. But as he pictured the burn marks that covered her shoulders, he felt guiltier than ever.
"David, you might want to check on her," his mother suddenly called from upstairs. McCoy's heart sank when he caught his father looking at the stairwell where he was currently hiding. "I think she's running a fever."
McCoy flinched when his father and Coulson raced up the stairs at that warning. He knew something was wrong the moment his mother had called them. He let out a heavy sigh as he finally joined them, only to find the room filled with uncertain voices. His father swore under his breath after realizing his mother had been right, with Coulson following suit. McCoy could only watch helplessly as the door closed shut in front of him, hiding away whatever the girl was suffering from.
Another hour or so went on like that. His mother was the only one who left the room to get a cooling cloth before disappearing again. At some point or another he had finally fallen asleep, but it wasn't a fitful sleep. The more he thought about it, the guiltier he felt knowing that he'd been jealous of this girl. He realized with a start that he had it made compared to her. As his mother finally emerged from the room, McCoy's eyes shot up to see her shaking her head guiltily.
"Is she gonna be okay?" he couldn't help but ask when she let out a tired sigh.
The moment she sat down next to him and hugged him was when he knew that she felt guilty. Though he couldn't figure out why. McCoy frowned when they sat like that for another few seconds before she gave him a light squeeze and let out another sigh.
"Your father is doing everything he can to make sure she breaks through her fever," she tried reassuring him.
McCoy knew from the tone of her voice that it was false hope. His gut wrenched as realization dawned on him. She could die because of what he'd said back there. And the thought left him wishing he could take everything back.
"She's not… she's not gonna die, is she?" he asked warily, hating how hoarse his voice suddenly sounded.
"Not if your father has a say about it," she replied without missing a beat.
Though McCoy hadn't missed the way she flinched when he asked that. He knew in that moment that whatever petty jealousy he had been feeling could be pushed to the side. Because that girl had clearly been through just about everything he could imagine. And he couldn't shake off the feeling that they were only just getting a small grasp of what she had been through.
.
.
Three days had passed since the girl was brought in with a high fever. McCoy hadn't gotten much sleep within those three days since she was literally across his room. His father and Coulson had been constant visitors, either making sure her vitals were stable or that she was in a safe position. He wasn't entirely sure what all of those terms meant, but McCoy had listened with keen interest as his father explained what to expect before she woke up.
It was clear she was suffering from nightmares within those last three days. He hadn't missed the fact that she would toss and turn sometimes. What bothered him the most about it though was the fact that she'd been in that state for almost three days now. Most folks he'd seen with fevers recovered within a couple of days at best, but she hadn't even broken from hers. By the time day number four came around, his father crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.
"Kid's gotta fight this one on her own," he heard him mutter.
That was the first time McCoy had ever seen his father look so defeated. He rarely gave up a fight when it came to a medical condition. McCoy couldn't help but stare at the girl's still frame for the next few seconds, unsure of what to do from there.
"I know I haven't exactly been all that great at being a friend," he let out a sigh once he was sure they were alone. "And I'm sorry for what I said to ya back there."
He couldn't help but reach out for a hand, realizing with a start that her hand was warm and inviting. McCoy rose an eyebrow in surprise when he noticed the color seemed to return to her skin. He gave her hand a light squeeze, knowing full-well there wasn't much of a chance she'd respond to that. But the moment his hand squeezed hers was when he felt her stir, causing him to flinch in disbelief. His hand suddenly felt as though lightning shot through it. Every one of his senses suddenly seemed to go haywire for a brief second. It took everything he had not to cry out from the sudden pain burning through him. But almost as quickly as the pain had begun, it began fading into a dull throbbing.
McCoy blinked a few times when he managed to pull his hand away. The fire had finally faded, and thankfully there wasn't a mark. Yet that didn't stop the confusion from following as he felt something other than the panic from earlier. He couldn't quite describe the emotions rushing through him as he looked back at the girl, only to notice that she was beginning to stir. McCoy just stared at the girl for a few seconds, unsure of what to say when Coulson suddenly pried the door open.
He wasn't sure what happened next. One minute he was standing in the same room as Coulson and the girl, and the next, his father peered around the door frame in time to see that the girl was stirring. He realized with a start that her fever must have finally broken. The relief written across their faces told him that much. McCoy couldn't help but watch the scene unfold before him as he was ushered out of the room by his mother, who looked equally relieved after hearing the news from his father. The only thing he did know at that point was that she would survive. And it was enough for him to let out a breath of relief. At least for the time being.