gotgreenmagic | 31

Entry tags:

31 - voice

So let me make sure I've got this absolutely clear and nailed down in my mind:

Is this wreck supposed to make me better or just crush my spirit?

...

Whatever. I'm done.

[Private - McCoy]

Kirk told me it was your birthday. Many happy returns, I guess.

[Private - Angel]

So do I get my Infirmary shift back or am I fired or what?

[Private - Martha]

I now it's not like I could sue or anything, but you've still got that doctor-patient confidentiality thing going, right?

[Private - Mozenrath]

How are -

How are you -

...I know, sport. What you said. Good as never happened.

[Private - Rayne/Dean]

[You both get three seconds of dead air which is Shego thinking 'is this a good idea? No, probably not' and then switching off the mic.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"They haven't, so much," Shego admitted after a pause. "I mean, they're not making it worse? But they're not doing much of anything else, either." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Could just be me. I've never been on pills before."

"They should relax you enough for a full night's rest." McCoy answered as he looked up scheduling on his PADD to decide who to call down. "It's possible your metabolism is different with your abilities manifesting. You may need a stronger dosage."

"Yeah, maybe." She sighed, her shoulders lifting and falling in a huff of breath.

"Listen, I know you must let Jimmy see some of the stuff I say to you on the network. Don't care all that much about that. But you're not going to say anything about this, right? I do not need him to know."

McCoy paused his working on the PADD, looking up at her with a slightly annoyed look. "Now look here, Jim can snoop all he god damned wants but in the end he's not getting to these records. I'm a doctor and believe it or not we still take patient confidentiality as seriously in my century as yours should. It's your business if Jim learns about this or not."

She lifted her hands. "Easy, tiger. I'm not ripping on your professional integrity. Just wanted to make sure." It seemed best to follow up on the remark with the actual reason that she'd asked, so: "I've been having nightmares. And the sedatives don't - it's not stopping."

Ordinarily that would have been bottled up for months, but Shego was getting on for ten nights without sleep and frankly she was starting to feel a little bit crazy. Beyond acceptable boundaries of craziness, at least.

McCoy couldn't say he hadn't been expecting something like that. Shego's other self was a good woman but a stubborn one, a stubbornness that most likely left the Shego he knew with many unpleasant memories of the consequences of it.

He turned to the cabinet, unlocking it and taking out a bottle of small red pills. "These are from my time, effective in treating insomnia with a dreamless sleep." He glanced back to Shego. "They'll stop the symptoms, maybe long enough to take care of the cause but they're not a cure, as I'm sure you well know."

Shego raised her eyebrows at the offer, slightly wary of whatever the 23rd century had to offer, but she figured from his perspective it'd look like Judas or one of the Sexbys dismissing aspirin as obscure witchcraft. She just nodded.

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. You're gonna tell me I need to talk this out, right? Because I don't really do the whole 'sit on a couch, tell me about your father' bit."

"I figured as much." McCoy responded, closing the cabinet again. "Hell, I'm no psychiatrist. I could tell you every damn detail they drilled into our brains about torture, mental or physical, but it probably won't do you a bit of good." He turned back to her. "You're the best judge of that. No one can help you on that front unless you accept you need the help. Maybe you just need to destroy a punching bag again, maybe you do need to talk about your father. You're not a kid." His brow quirked. "You'll figure out what you need in your own good time."

That wasn't bad. Felt like solid enough advice, even if it gave her an easily seized excuse to take refuge in violence. She cracked a half-smile, slipped the bottle into a pocket and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms casually.

"Thanks, Doc. Are you doing okay? You look..." She made a vague gesture. "Less beat up."

McCoy waved a hand. "Jim finally fixed my dermal regenerator, the worst of the damage is gone and what's left will be soon enough." He glanced at his newly healed palm and frowned. "Damned unnerving though, the phantom pains of it. Something even modern medicine can't touch."

He looked back to her, dropping his hand. "And what about you? You had Jim worried sick for a while."

"I just didn't want to see anyone. Or talk to anyone. Or move all that much." Still didn't, if she was going to be honest, but the smart money wasn't really on 'starving to death' as a coping mechanism. Given the way she'd bitten Mozenrath's head off, she probably still wasn't ready for mixing with the general population.

She shrugged. "I'll be okay. Don't plan on ending up in a padded room over this."

McCoy had seen that enough in people coming off the flood, though he himself always preferred work or a strong drink. Considering some choice comments about his counterpart and drinking he stuck with the work part himself.

Oh, hell with it.

"Good, we have enough of that." McCoy answered before putting his PADD down. "Want to grab a drink later? Parker's been busy and Jim's too occupied with his guilt these last few days to celebrate the end of the flood properly." He said in a sardonic tone.

Shego wondered what the hell Parker could possibly be busy with on the Barge of all places, but she just smirked and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Sounds like a blast."

She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt for a moment.

"Listen. My being here and talking to you and everything probably makes this pretty clear? But so you know, I don't see him when I see you. I'm not irrationally terrified that you're gonna strap me down and break out a bone saw. Jim, either. It's like having two sets of memories, and...except for the week of the flood, hers are starting to get a little bit fuzzy. Because I know those guys never existed."

"Alright, my shift's nearly done." McCoy answered, pausing when she began fidgeting with her shirt. He leaned back against the cabinet as she spoke, crossing his arms against his chest. He figured as much, or at least that she was making an effort not to see whoever it was she saw when she looked at him now.

"I know." He answered after a pause, eyes on hers. "I also know it's not that simple, even if you realize rationally those men aren't us." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Hell I'm terrible at this, listen Shego, you're a good woman and a damned decent friend. If you need space or not to look at me while those memories clear out I'll give that, no questions asked. If you need to talk or decide to go off and break a knuckle destroying another punching bag I'm here for that as well."

He pushed from the cabinet, shaking his head. "Lord, listen to me. I need that damned drink." He groused, picking up his PADD and looking over the Infirmary to see if there was anything he needed to do before departing.

She half-laughed and straightened up, pulling away from the wall. "Yeah, sounds just a little bit like it."

Like she'd have looked him up in the Infirmary if she had any plans to stay out of his way any longer. Avoiding him meant letting the memories and half-faded fears hang around in her head and breed. She needed to spend this time with him, seeing him as the friend she'd made and not the unfeeling monster who had never existed. And maybe it hurt a little bit, wanting to flinch when he moved a certain way or touched a certain piece of equipment, but it felt healthier than hiding and she was done with that.

"You good to go?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." McCoy answered, taking one last sweep of the room before walking over to the door. "The pub or my cabin?" He asked, stepping through the door way ad glancing back at her for her response.

She considered. The pub carried with it the threat of other people being present and possibly wanting to talk, to either of them.

"Your place," she said, following him out of the ward. "Why not. Never actually seen your cabin, is it just the room from your ship or what?"

"Yeah, same room as back on the Enterprise. Damned surreal if you ask me." McCoy answered, walking down the hall. His room was only a few doors down from the Infirmary, both a good and bad thing in his book. He was glad Shego chose it rather than the pub, he figured she didn't want to be too social and he didn't either at the moment.

"Jim may stop by if he isn't there already. Never know with him." He warned, stopping at the door and punching in his clearance. Jim wasn't there, just the metal room, mostly barren besides a handful of personal touches from back home. He gestured for Shego to enter.

"You wanna talk surreal? My room is the one I had back in my boss' lair and it still looks like it's been dug out of a mountain. Solid rock walls. It's messed up."

Shego slipped into the room after him, not exactly repelled by the idea of Jimmy being around but pleased that he wasn't nonetheless. The door closed behind her as she looked around.

"This is...cheery."

"A mountain lair?" McCoy asked with a raised brow, closing the door and heading to his desk with a snort. "Yeah yeah, you try furnishing when your ex leaves you with the clothes on your back and your bones so generously."

He pulled out two glasses. "Bourbon or Saurian Brandy?" He asked, turning to glance at her.

Edited 2010-01-26 06:50 (UTC)

"Yeah, a mountain lair. Laugh it up, hot shot."

The offer of drinks got him a raised eyebrow of his own. "Bourbon," she said, her expression indicating that she had no idea what a Saurian was or what their brandy was liable to taste like. Not that she knew how normal brandy tasted, either.

McCoy's lips quirked slightly as he poured her drink, handing it over a moment later. "What was it, this boss of yours wanted to take over the world?" He asked as he poured himself a glass. "And what happens if he did manage it?"

"Thanks."

She peered into the glass for a moment, then took a slow considered sip. "I don't know. I don't even know if he knew. The one time he ever came even remotely close to doing it, I was in such a state of shock I didn't actually think to ask."

"He actually came close?" McCoy asked, brow quirking again as he took a seat on his bed. For a moment he wondered where the hell Spock Jr was- great, there was a disaster waiting to happen. He pushed the thought aside with a drink from his glass.

"Yeah, right before I showed up here," Shego said, because 'showed up here' rolled off the tongue easier than 'was murdered'. She sat down on the chair at his desk.

"Stole the plans for this thing, the Hephaestus Project - self-replicating nanotech. Seeded millions of robots across the world in teeny-tiny versions that would get really big and really mean at the push of a button. And these things were - I mean, nothing was gonna stand up to them. We were so close."

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