Long after McCoy had left Sickbay and Captain Kirk had finally managed to reel in his shocked, disbelieving laughter to return to the Bridge, I stood before the door of the office designated for the CMO and the Head Nurse. It seemed ridiculous to have feelings of such uncertainty when simply entering the shared office. Yet, the human part of me hesitated, leaving me standing with one hand on keypad and the other on the door handle.
Up to now, my new title as Head Nurse seems more like a glorified position. While it is true, that I had only been promoted in the past few hours, in that time that has passed since then, I feel unchanged.
The other Nurses treated me no differently than before. There was the same polite chatter, the same helpful guidance of experienced workers aiding a new employee, and the same mild wariness directed towards a stranger in their territory. While I hypothesized that their unchanged behavior could be the result of the lingering sense of surrealism that seemed to surround the experience, the Enterprise crew is known for being resilient and adaptable. In this, they had proved themselves again by accepting as their new Head Nurse a woman that lacks seniority.
Their simple acceptance of me was comforting and warming in a way I had not expected. It was like a regeneration hypo over an open wound, healing my injury rather than antagonizing it. Here, I did not constantly have to fight back against attacks nor defend myself against disapproval from all sides. It was strange to be given a promotion that I did not believe I had earned, whereas in the past, I would have been purposely denied the position, regardless of if it should be mine.
This was a welcomed reprieve from years of constantly having to be on guard against contempt. It felt unreal.
A part of me was waiting for the other shoe to drop and the real reality to set in. While I did not dare hope for more than the professional, polite treatment that my colleagues treated me with-which already surpassed any kindness shown to me by people outside of my family-neither did I reject the possibility that their respect would fade to bitterness.
I have seen it go both ways, but more often than not, I have seen it turn for the worst.
"Is this going to be a habit with you or something?" a voice exclaimed from behind me, "Just staring off at things to think?"
Doctor McCoy sounded decidedly annoyed—a tone that I was increasingly becoming acquainted with. It was a small blessing at least, that I was facing the door as I felt my cheeks and ears heat up at his comment.
Buying myself a moment longer to find my composure and return to my pale complexion, I shot back, "Is this going to a habit for you too? Sneaking up on people who are busy thinking?"
The Doctor gave an inelegant snort, which for humans can either translate to amusement and laughter or contempt and frustration. I settled on the latter.
"It's gonna be a long 5 years if we keep going the way we are," McCoy muttered.
It was a sentiment that I agreed with, because even though he was by no means as deliberately cruel as others from my past, there was an echo of their thinly veiled insults in his words.
I closed my eyes, continuing to face towards the door with my back to Doctor McCoy.
'Don't think about it. Don't think about it,' my mind repeated.
On some human level, I registered an emotion of confusion and hurt at the malice in his comments. But as I was also part Vulcan, I used what was left of my mental shields to deflect the unwanted feelings.
'Don't think about it. Don't think about it,' my mind repeated.
"Well, get on with it," he groused, "Your code should work. I had that Russian whiz kid add it in while I was gone."
My eyes opened in mild surprise at his unexpected gesture. It seemed so at odds with the comments he tended to aim at me. However, these sudden turnaround in attitudes were something I had dealt with before as well and I involuntarily spun around to face the Doctor, if only to ascertain his truthfulness. Too often had these jokes been played on me and too often have I fallen from them.
My breath caught in what I hypothesized was a muscle spasm in my diaphragm and intercostal muscles surrounding my lungs, which in turn caused a deviation from my normal, controlled inhalation and exhalation process. It was indeed a strange phenomenon to experience.
Doctor McCoy stood an arm's length away from me, with his arms crossed across his chest. Having only met the surly man earlier today, this was the first time to see him looking more than sleep deprived and unkempt. He looked...remarkably well. Being clean-shaven suited him. The CMO no longer looked like he was on the verge of either exploding with anger or collapsing in fatigue. It was a great improvement from the last time I had seen him. Even his emotions seemed better balanced, or at better hidden by the confidence he seemed to exude. It was...a nice change.
The shock from both his gesture and appearance must have strayed across my face. He seemed to attribute it however, fully to his unexpected act of kindness as he gestured toward the keypad, prompting me onward with a remarkably soft, "Go on then, try it out."
I did not trust myself to reply, but neither did I thank him in advance, if only to save myself the embarrassment should it all be a trick. Instead, I slowly typed in my entry code.
Somehow, it felt less like I was intruding into his office, as I was being invited into our office.
The keypad approved my code with telltale click of the lock coming undone. It hadn't been a joke after all. I pushed the door open.
As I stepped into the dark room, it was strange to be comforted when feeling the slightest shift in the air behind me, signifying that Doctor McCoy had likewise entered. The door closed quietly behind us.
"Computer. Lights." I commanded softly.
The lights switched on.
It was a welcomed surprise to once again find my predictions to be entirely wrong. For one, the trapped stillness that I had long associated with small, contained areas was nowhere to be found in this office. Rather, I was engulfed by an air of comfort and reprieve. I was unbelievably glad at the lack of the futuristic, metallic finish that seemed to define all the walls and instruments of the starship. Instead, the walls of office were lined with soft brown, wooden panels that managed to make the room seem taller and wider. A bookshelf filled with medical journals and patient files lined the wall to the left of the entrance, while two wooden desks were arranged side by side to our right. The wall opposite to doors was surrounded by two well-loved, oversized velvet armchairs, as well as a sofa that was stacked high with blankets and pillows. Just above the coach was a large window, from which I could see stars and planets shooting by.
The office seemed more akin to the houses I had seen in the Terran films my mother played for me as a child. Overall, it reminded me of the home I had lost on Vulcan. A brief flash of anguish and sorrow burst through the shields I had weakly built around my mind as I silently mourned the loss once more.
Fully aware of the Doctor's presence to my left, I turned to my right and began to walk around the office in a slow, measured pace as I attempted to repair the damage to my mind's protection. As I circled the room, I let my hand dance across the smooth, cool surface of the desk and felt the warmth of the stacked blankets on the velvet couch. I let my gaze study the wooden panels, while gently grasping at the leather of the armchairs. For a few moments, I peered at the titles of the medical journals, making note of the ones I would like to read, before resuming my walk to return to Doctor McCoy's side. Once more, my mental barriers were shaky, but at least present, and I had some semblance of control back.
The Doctor had indulged my curiosity in silence, allowing me to explore the room to my satisfaction. Now, it seemed, he was awaiting a report.
"Well?" he questioned impatiently, as if listening for my verdict on the room.
"Well…" I echoed back, uncertainly. He rolled his eyes, but maintained his silence as I put together my thoughts. It was surprisingly pleasing that he seemed to care what I thought of the office.
"This might just be my favorite room in the entire starship," I admitted. It has been a while since any place reminded me of home and I wanted to hold on to it.
McCoy tilted his head slightly to the side as he met my gaze appraisingly until he found what he was looking for. Then the tension in shoulders seemed to ease and his expression of perennial seriousness, relaxed slightly.
"These next five years might not be too bad after all then, Doctor Gray."
I noted the jab he had once again dealt me.
I also noted, however, how the corner of his lips quirked upward in the beginnings of a grin while saying it.
It seems that the complexity of human teasing still escapes me since that was, after all, what I had been missing all along: the fine line Doctor McCoy straddled between joking and insulting.
At this, I could not help but return his faint smile, because in the light of our office, his eyes are the color of hot chocolate and just as intoxicating.