taxonomites | 004 ¤ [Visual | Location: Sanctuary for All]

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004 ¤ [Visual | Location: Sanctuary for All]

Bones had woken up that morning feeling vaguely disorientated. But thankfully for all who knew the surly southern doctor, finally back in the appropriate body for the alternate timeline he hailed from, instead of the wry old man from ’85 with the blue eyes and penchant for confusing Taxon's favourite ~~infant~~ maturing Captain.

McCoy was none the wiser to his elderly, primetime shenanigans until about... oh, I don't know, five minutes ago. The unsettled haze was soon replaced with snatches of different conversations he had shared with people, which became exasperatingly more comprehensible and vivid to recall as the effects of sleep dissipated and left him with a week full of memories crammed fit to burst; but in the wrong head.

A glitch, he deduced with dread as he rubbed the side of his face with a long-suffering groan. It probably explained why he had woken up in a room that should have been unfamiliar to him but wasn't, instead of the familiar biobeds he camped out on in Sickbay in the North of this damn city.

"I need a drink."

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"One good thing about this place?" Kirk announced from the doorway, holding up a bottle of bright blue liquid. "Romulan ale isn't illegal."

Oh, the things he could think up to make the hatches replicate. He'd intended on tending to the bottle's vibrant contents on his own, by himself, but he'd passed by the cracked door to the room Bones was currently occupying and had poked his head in to see how the Commander was doing -- only to find that he wasn't glitched into the old, alternate version of Leonard McCoy, but was back to his normal self. That was a relief, even if he still felt like a giant ass for not telling him about Sam sooner and for freaking out after being told about what became of the Sam Kirk of the prime timeline.

Hopefully Bones didn't remember any of that.

McCoy could remember everything that had happened during that week. Including his encounter with Jim on the bridge of the Enterprise and their subsequent discussion that had amounted to the Captain leaving him in a state. He scarcely knew anything about Sam Kirk, sans his name and that he had left due to escalating friction in the Kirk household. And then suddenly, he had glitched into that old man and told him that he was dead in some far-flung timeline.

Goddamn it.

He was pacing the room whilst running his fingers through his tousled hair when he heard Jim speak up from the doorway. His eyes flickered to the blue liquid sloshing against the bottle as Jim held up the container for the doctor to see and he arched an eyebrow.

"Jim," his voice sounded oddly strained although thankfully it was his own and not the seasoned southern tone that he could remember speaking the past week, "I only use that stuff for medicinal purposes."

... Was that really him talking there? Or was it residue from the older McCoy determined to spike through his consciousness and take over once again? Hell, maybe he could tell him he had embraced Lieutenant Uhura whilst wearing a crown of leaves around his head. Either that was real or it was a far-fetched nightmare.

"This is for medicinal purposes, Bones," the captain insisted, stepping into the doctors room and dangling the bottle of illegal alien ale by it's neck like it were some priceless treasure that would tempt all who saw it to claim it for themselves. "Mind-numbing purposes. You said you needed a drink. What better than good ol' Romulan ale? ...unless you'd rather I replicate some blood wine, but I'm not exactly in the mood for something that bitter and you not knowing Klingon will make me singing drinking songs by myself kinda boring."

Edited 2009-10-01 20:58 (UTC)

As Jim strutted into the room swinging the bottle of Romulan Ale citing it was indeed for medicinal purposes, McCoy lowered himself into a chair and drummed his fingers agitatedly on the armrest, "You heard that then." He murmured under his breath.

His alternate choice of beverage, the infamous Klingon blood wine, made his nose wrinkle in poorly concealed distaste although he would not shun its potent properties right now. Hell, maybe he was being dramatic about this... it was not like he killed someone. Mortifying? Oh, yes. But it looked like it hadn't destroyed any of the friendships he held with the people here... unless Jim wanted to smash the bottle over his head. Maybe it would knock some sense into him.

"I'm used to your singing and dancing, Jim." McCoy replied knowingly after recalling their Academy days as he resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair again, "And I can't say that I have the voice of a soprano either, but I doubt there is much to Klingon lyrics than tearing your own larynx out and swinging it around your head."

If only for the sake of being difficult, Kirk grinned and proceeded to sing, "'ej HumtaH 'ej DechtaH 'Iw / 'ej Doq SoDtaH ghoSpa' Sqral bIQtIq / 'e' pa' jaj law' mo' jaj puS / jaj qeylIS molar mIgh HoHchu'qu'~"

That goofy smile he offered up afterward, however, was soon replaced by a look of concern. He set the bottle down on a nearby table and strolled closer to his best friend, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd known Bones for three, almost four, years. Something was wrong. He could tell.

"What's bothering you?"

McCoy rolled his eyes as Kirk burst out into song with a violent rendition of some Klingon song and he rubbed his eyelids with his thumb until Jim trailed off. He assumed, with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, this loud attempt to beleaguer him would pay the price once the Romulan Ale left a trail of fire down his throat. Perhaps it was the one he always sang when he was intoxicated. Xenolinguistic was for the linguists, not for the doctors. He just assumed it was a violent song, because he severely doubted the Klingons would harp on about how nothing gold can stay in this world.

His question did not surprise him as his eyes rolled up to survey the look of concern on his face. After all, he was a human being and could probably be an overly emotional one occasion... that pointy-eared bastard could vouch for that and no doubt what was bothering him was evident on his face that had been proved correct judging by his expression, "Aside from being dragged here?" He quipped sardonically or perhaps defensively, "... memories, Jim."

Kirk wouldn't necessarily say that it was a violent song as it was one that told the tale of one of the greatest heroes of the Klingon Empire, but he was sure that Bones didn't want to hear stories of Kahless' triumphs. ...he liked history and that wasn't necessarily limited to Earth's history, even if he didn't really care much for the Klingons.

"I think we're all upset about that." Nevermind things that made being here in Taxon not as bad as they were when he'd first arrived months ago. "Memories? What memories?"

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