E is for Emergency Ops [Star Trek; Chapel/McCoy; G]

E is for Emergency Ops
Characters: Chapel/McCoy (because I am apparently incapable of writing one without the other)
Word Count: 300
Rating: G
----

"You've got to. You're the only one qualified to do it."

"Qualified? I never finished my damned MD. I'm certainly not qualified to perform emergency surgery, let alone in these conditions!"

"Dammit, Chapel, you don't have a choice. I know you completed your surgery rotation. Dr. Blanchard showed me his write up of you - the bastard was practically gloating. He wanted to recruit you on the spot. Said you had the steadiest hands since Puri."

Christine Chapel flushed under the praise, but still shook her head. "I can't-"

"You can. And you will. Would you trust anyone else here to do it? None of them have any damned medical training besides first aid."

Christine looked around and her shoulders slumped in defeat. The security officer would be no help, and the pilot and the engineer were busy trying to rig up something to communicate with the Enterprise.

"That's my girl. I can talk you through it, but only if we do this now. If we wait much longer, the toxin will start to effect my speech and vision."

And therein lay the crux of the problem. Bad enough that their shuttle had crashed while delivering medical supplies to the colony. Bad enough that interference from the atmosphere had rendered all communication - let alone transporter function - impossible. But then McCoy had to go and get bitten by a helthinal, a venomous snake native to the world, with the charming adaptation of leaving its fangs behind in its victim. The anti-toxin could only do so much while the two needle-sized fangs were still imbedded in his thigh, happily pumping venom into his bloodstream.

Christine took a deep breath and willed her hands to stop shaking. She then gently caressed the doctor's face. "Alright, love. Tell me where to start."

H is for Harrowing [Star Trek; Kirk & Rand; G]

H is for Harrowing
Characters: Janice Rand, Jim Kirk
Word Count: 300
Rating: G
----

Jim and Janice sit back to back in the warm sun, gulping down air as their lungs valiantly try to take in enough oxygen.

"Well that was certainly bracing," Jim says between gasps.

"That's not the word I'd use for it," Janice retorts, wondering if her chest will ever stop feeling like it's on fire.

"Invigorating? Exciting? Heart-pounding?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of terrifying, harrowing, and exhausting."

"Spoilsport," Jim says, and Janice can just imagine his lower lip pouting out. "We won, didn't we?"

"We did," she concedes. "But Captain?"

"Hmm?"

"I am never ever agreeing to do another Yeoman/Captain Amazing Race with you. I don't care how much money we just raised for Vulcan orphans. I'll just write them a damned check."

"Awww. But Janny," Jim whines. He's the only one who can get away with calling her that without getting a kick in the balls for his trouble. "Next year they're holding it on Nimbus III. It'll be great!"

Janice twists around so that she can look back over her shoulder and peers at him incredulously. "Captain, you're aware that Nimbus III is over 80% desert, and is such a harsh environment that even Vulcans have a hard time living there?"

Her reasonable, rational, logical arguments have no effect, and Jim simply turns up the puppy-dog eyes another notch. Janice can feel her resolve crumbling.

"We'll have to ask Commander Spock for training tips. I know he lead a few cadet groups through the Forge. He'll know what we need to do."

Jim beams at her, and despite herself, Janice smiles back.

"Pike and Colt won this three years in a row. Think we can beat them?"

Janice merely laughs and shakes her head in disbelief. Arguing with Jim Kirk is an exercise in futility.

L is or Lubricant [Star Trek; Gaila; G]

L is for Lubricant
Characters: Gaila
Word Count: 400
Rating: G
----

The only thing Gaila liked more than taking things apart was putting them back together again. And the only thing she liked better than putting things together was making them better than they were before.

When she joined Starfleet, becoming an engineer was never really a choice, more like a necessity. Nyota rolled her eyes at the spare parts that constantly inhabited Gaila's side of the room and frequently waged extensive campaigns towards hers. But she was appreciative when the comm unit suddenly had a search feature that could work across multiple language dictionaries at once. She was even more appreciative when their small shower unit began giving them unlimited real water.

By the end of her third year, Gaila figured she could take apart and reassemble just about any part of a starship, including the warp core. And do it blindfolded. Classes were more theoretical than practical, now, and her fingers itched for something real to do.

Salvation came in the unlikely form of an offhand comment from Jim Kirk, one evening when they were all out drinking. He knew, it seemed, a guy who ran a shop that restored old 20th and 21st century ground vehicles. After much pleading, and several rounds of persuasive sex, he finally agreed to introduce her.

The moment Gaila entered the garage, she thought she finally understood the meaning of the odd Earth phrase "love at first sight." She lovingly trailed her hands over the engine - a proper internal combustion engine, like the ones she'd read about but had never hoped to actually see, let alone touch - and ached to pick up the tools.

Steve, the guy who owned the shop, was skeptical at first, but after he watched her strip and rebuild the power source for a hovercar in half an hour flat, he unbent enough to allow Gaila to work with him.

She was hip-deep in a 1989 Bentley when the notification came in with the emergency recall of all Starfleet personnel. She swore quietly in Low Orion and looked apologeticly at Steve.

"Take care of my baby for me, will you? And don't use any of that synthetic crap on her! Real lubricant only, Steve. I mean it!"

He just laughed and chased her out, promising her the Bentley would be there for her when she got back.

Gaila certainly hoped so. She had plans for that car.

M is for Memory [Star Trek; McCoy; G]

M is for Memory
Characters: McCoy
Word Count: 225
Rating: G
----

It takes him all four years of med school before he can approach a terminal patient without his hands shaking.
It takes him another forty before he forgives himself.

It takes a year at the Academy for him to stop seeing Jocelyn in every glimpse of curly, auburn hair.
It takes two before he stops wishing it was her.

It takes a year and a half out in the black before he stops subconsciously expecting every shake and rattle of the ship to mean their imminent death.
It takes a lifetime and he's never comfortable on a shuttle.

It takes the full five years for him to catalog every allergy that Jim Kirk has.
It takes him another five to come up with a universal vaccine that the captain isn't also allergic to.

It takes him two years of retirement before he admits that he's bored out of his cotton-pickin' mind.
It takes him less than ten minutes of thought before accepting a teaching position at the Academy.

It takes twenty-seven hours of labor before he can successfully delivery Joanna's baby.
It takes less than a second for him to remember what to do with a new born in his arms.

And as he falls in love with his granddaughter, Leonard McCoy thinks for the first time that the memories might just be worth it.

X is for Xenophobic [Star Trek; Kirk; PG]

X is for Xenophobic
Characters: Reboot!Kirk
Word Count: 300
Notes: PGish for a couple bad words
----

Standing in front of a disciplinary committee was not a new experience for Jim Kirk. Standing in front of a disciplinary committee where he was not the one in trouble? That was a new experience.

He tugged at his dress uniform uncomfortably and resisted the urge to shift from foot to foot. The hearing was almost pro forma, as there were multiple recordings of the. . . incident.

Jim always knew that Fitzby was a bigoted asshole, but hadn't realize he was stupid as well. Mouthing off about the Deletian ambassador at the reception celebrating that same world's entry into the Federation was a feat that dwarfed even the stupidest shit Jim had ever pulled. It had taken a great deal of verbal tap dancing and a healthy dose of the Kirk-luck to prevent the Deletians from summarily withdrawing from the Federation all together.

How that man had been allowed to become a Commander, Jim would never understand. But he wouldn't be for long.

". . . and so in conclusion, this panel finds your actions deeply disturbing and unbecoming of a Starfleet officer," the judge magistrate droned on, finally getting to the point. "As a result, this committee hereby demotes you to the rank of Lieutenant, Junior Grade. You are ordered to report to Admiral Moritaka for a two week course of sensitivity training, after which you are to be assigned as a TA for all sections of the Academy's Introduction to Starfleet courses, for the period of two academic years."

Jim tried very hard to keep the smirk off of his face, but from the looks the judge magistrate was giving him, he wasn't really succeeding. It wasn't quite the punch in the face that he had wanted to give to Fitzby, but it would have to do.

Purity [Star Trek; Winona Kirk; G]

Title: Purity
Character(s): Winona Kirk
Rating: G
Word Count: 320
Prompt: "she's gotta break out of here"
Written the daily theme of "hopes and fears" on comment_fic.
Remixed into Old Home Ground (The Now and Then Remix) by BrighteyedJill for RemixRedux9
----

The air is refreshing and pure, filtered three times a day. The grass is green. Smells of earth and crops and baking bread, good clean smells all of them, assault her nose.

Winona can’t stand it. The sheer wholesomeness of it all makes her skin crawl, and she stomps one foot angrily on the grass. Behind her, the Iowa farm house glows with a soft light, a beacon in the darkness. Resolutely, she turns away from it and looks up again.

The velvety blackness is dotted with hundreds of pinpricks of light, and Winona knows each one by name. Both the Starfleet designations and the older, fanciful names given to the constellations.

The sky no longer holds the same kind of dread it did before. She can finally look up again without her stomach and heart clenching painfully. She takes a deep breath of the night air and longs for the slightly stale, slightly metallic taste of a starship.

A shriek from the house, followed closely by a crash, jolts her out of her contemplation, and Winona turns to find what disaster her two hellions have created this time.

It is not until hours later, when both boys are tucked into their beds, that her thoughts return to the sky. Before she can hesitate, before she can second- third- or fourth-guess herself, she heads to the comm link and punches in a once familiar code.

Moments later, the red and gold of an Admiralty uniform fill the screen.

“Winona? Is everything alright? I didn’t expect to hear from you.” Didn’t expect you to come back to us, is the unspoken thought.

Winona takes a deep breath of the too-clean air and lets it back out again, sending with it all of her fear and guilt.

“I know, Admiral, but I need to get out of here. It’s killing me, being grounded like this. I need to come back.”

Comedy Tonight [BtVS; Buffy & ensemble; G]

Title: Comedy Tonight
Character(s): Buffy & ensemble
Rating: G
Word Count: 261
Prompt: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum
Written the daily theme of “Movie Titles” on comment_fic.
----

Something familiar, something peculiar

“Oh not again,” Buffy muttered. “For the third time this week, NO. I will not donate a lock of my hair for needy orphan demons,” she said, whirling on the bright blue demon that had approached them.

The demon’s shoulders slumped in defeat and his three lower lips jutted out in a reasonable approximation of a pout.

“And don’t you start!” she said, spinning back around at the slight noise that escaped from Giles.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me.”

Something appealing, something appalling

Buffy flipped around again and quickly dodged the thrust of the creature’s arm (tentacle?). She paused for a moment behind a gravestone to admire the demon’s form. At once beautiful and revolting, it certainly gave new meaning to the phrase “drop dead gorgeous.” With a shrug, she buried her dagger in it’s ribcage, right where Giles promised the heart would be.

Something for everyone, a comedy tonight

“Breakfast Club?”

“No.”

“Sound of Music?”

“Oh hell no.”

“Nightmare on Elm Street?”

“No!” That response came from all corners of the room, and Buffy put her hands on her hips.

“Well, if you guys are going to reject every suggestion I come up with, pick something yourself!”

There was a mad scramble for the video shelf, and Xander finally held up one video in triumph.

Moments later, the sound of coconuts clopping filled the room, and Graham Chapman and Terry Gilliam filled the screen.

To Exist [BtVS/AtS; Dawn & Connor; PG]

Title: To Exist
Character(s): Dawn, Connor
Rating: PG
Word Count: 240
Prompt: After Hours
Written the daily theme of “Movie Titles” on comment_fic.
----

They weren’t supposed to exist, neither of them. So of course that meant that they went out of their way to live. It became a game, to see which one of them could sneak out first. Sometimes it was Dawn, using every skill she had learned from her Slayer sister, to make it past the inevitable guard (“receptionist” - as if) at the front desk. Sometimes it was Connor, although he denied ever cheating.

Then they would run to the darkest, skivviest clubs in LA and stand in line just like any other normal couple. Well, any other normal couple who knew which things that went bump in the night to be afraid of and which could safely be ignored.

And once they got in, they danced, the Girl Who Didn’t Exist and the Boy Who Shouldn’t Exist, Dawn in her too-short skirt and too-tight top, long hair hanging heavily down to her waist, and Connor, betraying his parentage in his black leather pants and black shirt with the first three buttons undone.

They danced to verify their existence, every movement, every thrust a challenge to a universe that said they shouldn’t exist. In the comfort of the dark, home to both of them, they danced and loved and danced some more, knowing that when daylight came, they would each go back to their curious half-life, existing but not. And each of them hoped that someday they would simply be.