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[personal profile] damalurbackup
Fifty percent of the credit for the new direction to this story goes to this song. I love it. (I LOVE IT SO FREAKING HARD.)



Blue (5/?). Spock/McCoy, Amanda, ensemble. All parts here.
She was a classy lady, Uhura, but what she saw in a green-blooded block of ice like Spock was beyond anyone's reckoning.


V.


It took him a good three days to track down genuine paper of a decent quality—not the synthetic stuff or the thin plastic sheets Starfleet preferred—but the quartermaster finally pointed him in the right direction. Turned out that Lieutenant Uhura had some stashed away. Bones missed her in the mess, so her showed up at the door to her cabin as soon as his shift was over.

She looked surprised when she saw him, and for that Bones couldn't blame her. He was a lot more likely to spend his off-hours trading gossip with Chapel or sampling the engine room moonshine with Scotty and Chekov than he was doing...whatever it was Uhura did. She played a mean hand of poker, he'd learned that firsthand, and she'd always struck him as unusually competent and professional on a shipload of professionals, but most of his knowledge about her was hearsay from Jim.

"Hi, Lieutenant," he said. "I've got a favor to ask you. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, Doctor. Would you like to come inside?" She stepped away, and he followed her into her cabin. The whole thing was working out better than he'd anticipated.

—Or not, because when he stepped inside, the first thing he laid eyes on was Spock, sitting stiffly on a low sofa in the middle of the room.

"Commander," Bones forced out.

Spock's eyebrow climbed for his hairline. "Doctor."

Uhura emanated exasperation without doing anything so uncouth as rolling her eyes; Bones couldn't quite pick up on how she managed that, but was impressed nonetheless. "What can I help you with, Doctor?"

Bones cleared his throat. "I'd heard that you have some paper laid away, and I was wondering if I might have a few pieces. I can pay you, if you want..."

"No need, Doctor. I have plenty—my grandmother loves it when I write her letters."

"My daughter's the same—I meant to pick up some before we shipped out, but it must've slipped my mind." Bones shifted awkwardly; under Spock's scrutiny, he became abruptly unsure of what to do with his hands, so he clasped them behind his back—and then realized that the postured echoed Spock's favored stance, and let them fall to his sides.

Uhura disappears into another room, or possibly a closet; Bones couldn't tell.

"You know," he said, pointedly not looking at Spock, "among most species, it's rude to stare."

"My apologies, Doctor," Spock replied, but there was an edge beneath his words.

Silence crept back into the room. Uhura ruffled something from behind the door.

"You did not use a dermal regenerator on Ensign Frost," Spock said, apropos of nothing.

"What?" Bones said, and then, "No." Frost had been injured in a recent shuttle malfunction that exposed him to dangerous parts of the vessel's experimental drive; what interest Spock had in his recovery, Bones didn't know.

"He suffered severe burns over thirty percent of his body. Procedure dictates—"

"Procedure dictates that I let my patient die? Or maybe you know better than me, Mister Spock. Funny, I didn't know that the ship's sentient calculator had taken up post as the CMO." Bones wasn't having trouble with his hands now; he knew exactly what he wanted to do with them, and that was plant one right in Spock's face.

"Mister Frost was not near death—"

"Well, golly, thanks for your opinion," Bones snapped. If Spock wanted to know about the osmotic imbalance induced by combining dermal regeneration and radiation poisoning, he could damn well look it up himself. Bones knew that Frost was hurting, had treated the man's oozing, blistered skin himself, but he'd also seen death by cell-rupture, and that was even less pretty.

Uhura picked that moment to come back into the room; she shot both of them a suspicious glare, but Bones met her gaze head-on. She was a classy lady, Uhura, but what she saw in a green-blooded block of ice like Spock was beyond anyone's reckoning. "Here, Doctor," she said, and passed him a slender folder of blue plastic. "Consider it a gift."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Bones said, and made to leave.

He thought about giving Spock the finger on his way out, but decided against it; the tightass would probably write him up for insubordination.


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