A/N: I am finally back from my conference…zzzzz. Updates should be regular again & thanks to all who have sent in comments or added me to your favorites! It is nice hearing from all of you, it keeps me going when I don't feel like it. Cheers!
Chapter 12- When it Rains it Pours
My head hurt and I was exhausted. I had spent the last 27 hours seeing one face after another and doing the most cursory of evaluations I could to establish a minimal level of sanity until it all blurred together. So many people and too much drama, but I managed to achieve the impossible by seeing almost everyone on the ship for Jim's Bataan death march of record keeping. I looked at the huge pile of files on my desk and wanted to set it all on fire to save myself the work of entering it all in the computer, which would take several more hours.
"This is fucking inhumane." McCoy mumbled to his equally cluttered desk with his head in his hands. Apparently, Jim's edict required updated physicals for the entire crew as well and McCoy almost went nuclear when he found out. There were many piercing glares seasoned with a flood of various profanities, but in the end he had no choice but to do complete workups on 104 people just as I did.
Unfortunately the crew members saw him first and then me in a steady stream of humanity and they were most often in a foul mood when they got to me because of him. I heard so many complaints about McCoy I started the interviews with, "I know McCoy is a jerk. Can we just get on with this?" I had never seen so much sustained rage in a person, his stamina was amazing. The poor individuals who came first were abused because he was angry at Jim. The middle group got it because he had become bored with the routine. The last of them were treated roughly because he was exhausted.
No one was spared. He told Chekov to go cry to his mommy if he couldn't handle the hypo. Sulu kept rubbing his arm vigorously and squinting in pain through most of his interview with me. He gave Uhura a little shove in my direction when she didn't get off his table fast enough for the next person. When Scotty asked him to go easy on the hypo, he was told to take it like a man or he would get it in the ass so he couldn't sit for a week. Even Spock struggled to maintain his placid expression. His eye twitched several times when he got his shot, but he somehow managed to hold it together otherwise.
Only once during the parade did I see McCoy smile, and that was when it was Jim's turn. There was no rational way he could order a shipwide medical evaluation and exclude himself. Jim gave a lopsided smile and approached with his hands up in an effort to placate the man who was salivating at the prospect of working him over. He had made the additional mistake of waiting until the very end so McCoy had plenty of time to stew; he smiled like the Cheshire cat and gently patted the table for Jim to sit. The last thing I saw was McCoy pulling the privacy curtain closed with a malicious smirk.
It was difficult to conduct Spock's interview with Jim's constant interruptions of gasps, growling, and the occasional, "Fuck! Go easy, Bones!" It was a good thing that I had talked to Spock the night before, so his sitting there was really a show for the other crew members least they think he was receiving special treatment. I took the opportunity to glean the purpose of the hysterical need to get this all done in a short time span: at the Starbase some of the Starfleet brass was going to hitch a ride on the Enterprise and that meant everything would be scrutinized, from the efficiency of the machinery in the engine room to the accuracy of medical records.
From what Spock told me we were far from Jim's only victims; both he and Scotty had been up almost as long as McCoy and I assessing the maintenance schedules and cleaning stray bits of computer code from the ship's systems. In spite of Jim's incredible ability in his job to pull off the improbable, it seemed impossible for him to enforce administration tasks on board. Everything had lapsed into neglect, at least on paper. But to the brass, a paper trail was everything so we were all trying our damndest to build a yellow brick road for them before they got on board.
"You know what we should do?" McCoy sighed, "You, Scotty, and me should all sneak into that arrogant prick's room with hypos and take turns shooting him up until he cries like a baby. I can fill a bunch of vials with water so he wouldn't even get anything but the pain. Hell, even the pointy eared bastard can join in. I just know that somewhere deep in the back of his Vulcan skull he would love a little taste of revenge. Fuck! Could you image how pissed he must be to be forced to stare at a computer screen and read billions of strings of code for hours on end? I am surprised he didn't go blind or bat shit insane. I mean Christ, even Vulcans have a breaking point." He paused and looked over at me with red rimmed eyes. "Is he insane?"
"I don't think so." I answered starting on the files. The notes were certainly not going to enter themselves. "But you know what they say about people who live in glass houses. There are only four of so of us that are pissed off at Jim. The entire ship is probably having a group meeting right now to plot their revenge against you including Spock and Scotty."
McCoy took my cue and started on his pile. "Fuck 'em. Any section 8's?" He casually asked entering the information into his screen.
"You mean truly insane people?" I clarified. McCoy grunted once and I took that as a yes. "Only one and he is one of yours." I dug though the pile to find the file while McCoy turned to me now fully awake. "Cadet Thom Meyers." I announced reading through my notes. It was sad, I had seen so many people that all I could remember was that he was crazy but couldn't recall exactly how.
"Seriously?" McCoy prompted with a knit brow. "What's wrong with him?"
"It looks like he is having trouble adjusting to life on a starship and he is especially struggling with his placement in your medical service." I told him tossing the file back on the pile.
"Wouldn't disagree with the last part. His grades in Starfleet were great, but he acts like he has never spent a day in medicine. The kid constantly forgets shit and doesn't do half of what I tell him. I shit you not, you did a better job putting in sutures than he can and you had no formal training. It scares the daylights out of me to think that he wants to actually operate on people. I haven't let him see patients on his own without me there just so he won't fuck up and accidently kill someone who just came in for a Band-Aid." He grumbled. "I admit that he sucks at medicine, but is he really bad enough to be placed on leave?"
"I haven't decided yet." I admitted. "I am leaning in that direction rather than suggesting a discharge, but he is perilously close to psychosis. He tells me he thinks that he is always being watched, even when he is off duty, and he sometimes hears voices telling him he is an awful person and everyone hates him."
"Fuck!" McCoy breathed. "He really is crazy. Maybe I should put him on a psychotropic."
"Maybe." I conceded. "But I have to talk to him a little more to determine the exact nature of all of this. He may be showing signs of schizophrenia or he may have just been speaking in metaphors, I didn't have enough time with him to figure it out. God, it was like speed dating." I sighed gesturing to the pile of notes. "I am not sure I can say with 100% certainty that anyone on this ship is truly healthy."
"I know what you mean." He agreed. "All I was looking for was a warm body and a pulse. That reminds me, you didn't get a physical."
"And you didn't get a psych eval." I retorted.
"Blink once." He instructed with a smile. I did as he requested and he shrugged. "Conscious and responds to commands, which implies a heartbeat and breathing. Done."
"Do you have fantasies about having sex with your mother?" I asked.
"All the time." He droned.
"Healthy family attachment if a little Oedipal in nature, but overall well adjusted and fit for duty." I nodded. He chuckled, but his mood took a turn directly south when Jim poked his head into the office.
"Dr. Collins." Jim greeted before turning to McCoy with a lower voice. "Bones."
"What the fuck do you want, Jim?" McCoy asked cutting to the chase.
"Bones, I am sorry about all this, Ok? I just found out myself that we were going to escort the admiral and his buddies and I am not happy about having them shove their noses up everyone's ass over the next few days either. I am even less happy about what I have to tell you." His voice broke off and McCoy slumped in his chair as though Jim had hit him in the forehead with a baseball bat. He simply couldn't take much more. "We are going to have a dinner on board tomorrow night, dress uniforms and rods firmly inserted up the ass." Jim instructed.
"Shit." McCoy sighed rubbing his face. "I hate formal dinners. No possibility of alcohol until the very end. I have to show up drunk or else I will end up stabbing one of the pricks with my butter knife if I have to listen to one more goddamn boring story with a smile plastered on my fucking face as if it were the most interesting thing I have ever heard."
"It sucks for everyone, Bones." Jim laughed. "The uniforms are itchy and hot and Scotty seems to have monopolized the tactic of excusing himself from the table several times so he can hide out in the bathroom and drink from the bottle of booze he had hidden somewhere beforehand."
"Bastard." McCoy spat. "Why didn't we think of that first? Spock seems to be the only one that can handle it. I don't know how in the hell he sits there and listens to all that bullshit without giving them all a nerve pinch just to shut them the hell up."
Jim laughed until his face turned pink. "You wanna know how he does it?" He gasped. "This is priceless! He told me he actually meditates during the dinners. He figured out that all he has to do is blink every so often and they will just keep talking. He is barely even conscious during the whole thing! How fucking awesome is that?"
"Sneaky motherfucker!" McCoy exclaimed. "And because he is a Vulcan, no one notices his expression doesn't change. I actually envy him. Goddamn!"
I laughed and shook my head. "I am telling you guys, he is more crafty than you realize or give him credit for."
"I am starting to figure that out." Jim smiled. "By the way, don't wear that uniform when you go. Have Uhura help you pick something from the replicator." He instructed gesturing to my blue modified shirt.
"Why am I going?" I asked somewhat disappointed. "I am not in Starfleet."
"Not technically," Jim agreed, "but as far as they know you are Mrs. McCoy and I bet they will be dying to meet the woman who was brave enough to take on that suicide mission. Besides, it is customary for officers to bring their significant others."
I sighed and hung my head while McCoy laughed. "At least I will have someone to talk to." He smiled. "You know, technical shit that they can't follow so maybe they will leave me the hell alone."
"Which brings up a kind of sticky situation." Jim sighed. "Collins, they don't know about you being from the past. So you and Bones will have to get your story straight about how you met and all that because that is one headache I don't need and won't be able to explain."
"I can handle it." McCoy shrugged. "Besides, I have seen her answer questions beautifully without really answering them, so I think we can manage."
"I can be very good at evading questions and deflecting attention." I confirmed. "If all else fails, answer the question with a question and keep them talking."
"Sounds good, but just keep in mind the situation we are all in and don't give away too much information. Which brings me to my last point." He looked down and chewed his bottom lip. McCoy and I glanced at each other and it seemed we were both uncomfortable with his hesitation. "We only have four staterooms and there will be five guests. I can't believe this is even happening, but Collins, you will have to give up your room and for the sake of appearances…"
He didn't need to finish for me to go into panic mode. "Fuck no Jim!" McCoy howled. "I can take a joke, but this shit is real! You can't in your right mind expect us to…to…" he looked in my direction with desperation, "we just can't, Jim. It ain't right. The end." He waved his hands and scowled. If I weren't so horrified at the prospect of spending the night in McCoy's room, I would have laughed at how much his southern accent came out.
"I will make it up to you, I swear." Jim promised. "I never in a million years would have thought this would happen, but we just have to get through this." McCoy just shook his head with fire in his eyes. He looked at me and he did seem truly sorry to have put us in such a situation. "I'm sorry, Collins. But I can tell you that I shared a room with him for three years, he really isn't that bad. Snores a little, but I just kicked him and he stopped." He was trying to make a joke, but McCoy just glared at him. "Christ, Bones! I said I would make it up to you!" He pleaded.
"Jim," McCoy said in an eerily detached voice, "I can't think of one goddamn thing that you could possibly do for me to make up for this. Nothing in this universe could repay the amount of infinite fucking patience I have shown you at every turn in the last day and a half just to have you turn around and kick me in the balls time and again."
Jim hung his head and sighed. When he spoke, his voice was despondent. "I know I have really fucked up this time, Bones. And maybe you are right, maybe there isn't anything I can do to make it all up to you, but I have pulled off the impossible before. Just give me a chance to do my damndest to try for you before you write me off, ok?"
His blue eyes were large and sad. I was absolutely struck by his raw sincerity as though McCoy were his only true friend in the universe in that moment. This was a different man from the brash and reckless man who I normally knew as Jim. This was someone else entirely. The air was permeated with remorse, thick and heavy. McCoy's eyes softened slightly as he took in Jim's defeated posture. Without a word, he nodded once tightly before returning to his files. Jim's mouth tweaked upwards into a small smirk and his eyes brightened, but he thought it best to leave McCoy alone and he took his leave.
I too returned to my files, admiring McCoy for his grace and ability to forgive the man who had clearly wronged him. I knew the two were friends, but it wasn't until that moment that I realized how deep the bond was between the two even if it was unspoken. As I entered the data, I tried to quell the sense of dread that washed over me about my pending arrangements. I simply couldn't do this….