Warning! Mind crew at work!

Sat, 28 Nov 2009 08:43:08 GMT

FIRST: If you've been tagged, you must write your answers in your own LJ and replace any question that you dislike with a new, original question.

SECOND: Tag eight sexy people. Don't refuse to do that like a pansy. Unless you really don't want to of course. And if you're not tagged and you want to do it, then do!

~~Who sleeps in bed next to you?~~
What do you sleep with?
A tissue box. No really, right next to my head is a tissue box because I have allergies and they will attack at anytime! I have to be prepared!

What did you last eat?
Dressing. :3 Or stuffing.

Would you rather be famous for your singing, dancing, acting or athletic talent?
Well, I suck at singing. I also have no athletic talent. And since dancing can also be acting, I will say acting. :3

What are you reading right now?
... The things I am typing on this screen. Anyways, I is reading fanfiction, The Things They Carried, a Star Trek book by William Shatner, and some other books.

If you could be anywhere right now, where would it be?
Japan, and under my green blanket. But since my sister doesn't feel well I let her borrow it.

What's really creepy?
Spiders. Little spiders. I don't know why. I mean, I have a tarantula, but I hate little spiders. :/

Name one odd item within five feet of you.
It's either my cell phone my friend and I call the communicator (Because it looks like it. :3) or the box set that same friend let me borrow. (Box set of Star Trek. second set of Star Trek TOS)

What's your current fandom / obsession / addiction?
STXI.

What did you really want to do today that you didn't?
Actually cook my ham on time. :/

What are you most excited for?
Waiting for my brother to open his Christmas present from me. :3

What website must you check everyday?
Facebook, LJ, email, My Life is Average.

What is one thing you wouldn't do for a million dollars?
Kick a puppy.

What's the movie that you've seen the most?
Oh gosh, recently it would be STXI. But overall? I think Princess Monanoke.

What's your biggest procrastination method?
MLIA, fanfiction.

Are there any bits of childhood that you miss?
Not really. Well, having a dog would be nice.

Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter?
Winter. I like cold much more than hot. I also have allergies during autumn sot hat isn't fun. Spring is full of life, but I really like the feeling of walking through quiet lifelessness. Or rather, hibernation.

Say something to the person that tagged you!
You will die, J.J. Abrams will die, you ALL will DIE. :3
AND! Obediance without question, loyalty till Underverse come.
AND AND! ... Hi. x3

I tag those people. And when I mean those people I mean all who read it. >:3 Yes, I am that evil.

update thing

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 11:00:31 GMT

Just letting you all know, my beta decided to participate in the whole Nanoremo thingy with the 50,000 word fic and therefore my story will still be delayed for a bit longer. <.<; Yeah.. Ok, off to bed! I have class in 6 hours!

Brain Splosion

Wed, 11 Nov 2009 09:01:06 GMT

BRAIN SPLOSION. I just saw a picture of Data and C-3PO KISS.

So, this means that I have to figure out how to make my brain (and my mind crew) feel better. ONTO WRITING!!!! :3

Fantop

Wed, 28 Oct 2009 00:59:28 GMT

OMG!!!! I have a fangirl laptop! xD

Oh, btw, my laptop was fixed so I is happy :3

But anyways! My laptop is not a dell or a mac. It's an Eee PC. I thought it was just a weird name for a PC company. But know what? My beta said that it was a fangirl laptop. Fucking awesome. I just needed to post it somewhere, and LJ was just the perfect place to post. x3

Rant, rant, and Update info?

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 06:55:01 GMT

I don't know how many people read my thing and I really don't care at the moment but I need to do something with my hands so I'm going to rant about my laptop.

Well, last night my computer decided to update something and restarted itself. When it started up again it came to a black screen that said something about windows will start up properly in about some odd seconds. It got to the windows loading screen and decided, "Hey! I'm going to flash the blue screen of DEATH at you!" and went back to the black screen. I don't know how to fix it. I know it's a virus. And I REALLY don't want to pay anyone to fix it. So... I'm hoping my sisters bf (he's a comp nerd :3) can fix it, or else I'm going to have to pay $30 at Staples. Not a bad price right? Still, I don't want to pay money. I'm just glad that my story ( The Reaper fic) is all online (Thank god for online Word. Zoho is my GOD) and also being looked over by my beta. The horrible thing is is that I am now confined to a big desktop and I can't take it with me whereever my legs shall go. I like NOT being confined to one room. I liked walking around and reading and thinking of stuff to write for my story. T_T

On that note, yes I am working on my Reaper fic. No I am not done with the chapter. And I just realised how utterly CHEESY my fic is. Yes I am trying to make it work but still. My muse (who happens to be Reaper inside my head... and Bones... and Jim. Sometimes Spock if he wishes to give me ideas) decided he wanted to take a break and will only work at 3 in the morning till 3:30 ish. This does not mean that he will be WILLING to actually DO anything. -_-; And for all the people who are wondering how I'm going to work in Scotty/Enterprise, just you wait. >:3

I am also working on filling a prompt, though it is a slow and painful process I am still getting there.

I also have a problem with my muse not FOCUSING on my stories. It seems that he likes to think of other story possiblilities and such. To deal with this I'm making a list of what my brain comes up with and posting it at random intervels on my journal for all thoughs who wonder onto my page and looking for ideas. (Even if they don't want to)

ANYWAYS! Since my laptop decided to become sick without my consent, it will take longer to get my chapter up. (My major part of working is when I'm at my college for 3 hours and waiting for my other class to start.) Though I will try to remedy that soon. I think I shall work on it tomorrow when I'm at my performance. (For all those curious I'm performing at the Japanese American Theatre. :3 I wish to feed your stalker side.) So... Beta. If you are reading this (though I doubt you are) you have a lot of work ahead of you. >:3 Yes. the dreaded evil smile. I use it against YOU!

And as most of you shall know (if you ever look at the comments of recently posted stories) I am very easily distracted by peoples work. So... that adds to the whole, "I'm being a horrible distracted author!" thing. Yeah... Please no kill me?

Thank you for reading through my rant... ish... thing. :3 -huggles- .... Wow, I ranted for more than a couple lines! I'm so proud of myself. x3

(... Big Kat. (she ish my beta) Why am I Jim? I still don't understand. D:)

Do No Harm

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 05:10:55 GMT

Title: Do No Harm
Rated: E (for Everyone!)
Fandom: Star Trek XI and Doom... ish
Pairing: One sided Reaper!Bones/Kirk
Warning: Short and slighly depressing.
Word Count: 191
Beta: k_e_wilson

He took the oath; "First, do no harm..."

He'd thought he could keep it; had trusted himself implicitly when he'd spoken the words. But now? To keep his word, even as he was slowly forced to leave the people he cares most about, one by one? He knows he's got the possibility of breaking their hearts- it's not a physical harm, but it's harm none the less.

He slaps his forehead down onto the PADD in his hands, trying to stop the thought.

Of course those eyes won't miss him; eyes that wander from person to person every second, lust and playful gazes and laughter. Liquid ice that glows like a fire.

But he's never on the receiving end of it- no. It's not his place. He's familiar, safe, smiles and sunshine and jokes and anecdotes. But never the lustful gaze; never the soft words and caresses he's seen directed at others on the campus; at the bars. It's never directed at him, but he tramps down the hope for it.

Maybe it won't hurt either of them as much when he leaves; if there wasn't desire there in first place.

Secrets Should Be Told (1/?) Start Saying Your Farewells

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 07:32:24 GMT

Story Title: Secrets should be told
Chapter Title: Start saying your farewells
Fandom: Star Trek XI, DOOM, Chronicles of Riddick
Pairings: Reaper!Bones/Kirk, Sulu/Chekov, Spock/Uhura, Scotty/Enterprise
Rated: T, overall R (For sexytimes)
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or it's actors. But they have made residence in my mind and make my life interesting. I also own the plotbunnies, the forever breeding plot bunnies.
Warnings: Future chapters might contain actions not normally done with clothes on.
Chapter Word Count:5,210
Beta:

k_e_wilson

(I had ideas, she wrote it amazingly, I edited, she edited, I double checked and posted)
Spoilers: No doubt a lot of them.
Summery: There's really no accounting for things like Karma- He knows that. He also knows that there's probably worse things than telling your best friend about your past. But right now, the planet possibly crawling with zombie-like creatures, ready to kill him is looking like a better option.

There's something about the idea of being someone else that really gets him. Keeping a secret that nobody else should ever- can ever know about makes him feel like he's got even more power than what's been given to him by his genetically enhanced ass. It makes him feel like he can control something; even if it is making sure that nobody ever finds out, ever knows about, the hellish experiments that had led him here- that had created him.

He knew there was a cost when Sam first injected him with the C24. What he hadn't realized was how high that price would be; the frantic push to keep others away, to hope nobody takes too much notice of him, because he knows that no matter what, they'll leave, or he will. Life, Death, secrets, and prayers that none of it collapsed in on his head. It all would, one day- he just had to wait for it.

The communicator consul's beep draws his attention away from his musings in time to catch a familiar voice echoing forth. "Kirk to McCoy." His reality, no matter how much he's tried to deny it. Sickbay was quiet beyond the door to his office, nurses bustling about with efficiency around the few patients.

"What do you want, Jim?" the Georgian drawl was becoming a contradiction to him; at times, it was almost too easy to use it, and yet he still found himself stumbling, almost forgetting to slip into the easy roll of another time and place.

After a slight hesitation, the Captain's voice echoed out to him once more, "We've just received orders for our next mission. We're going to debrief on the bridge."

The ship's last mission had been just over a week ago, and he was still reeling from it slightly. They'd gone down to the class-M planet expecting no intelligent life, and hadn't found any. Sentient beings, however, there were plenty of; giant, flesh-eating creatures who moved fast and used their thick scales and retractable claws to the severe detriment of the landing party. Dragons, Jim had likened them to, and Bones had to agree. In the end, they had lost nearly all of the four security team who'd accompanied them, and two of the science team had sustained serious injury.

Throwing a glance at the quiet room beyond, he answered. "Damnit, Jim I've got work to do, why don't you just send the damned orders to my PADD?" The accent grew deeper with the strain, laced with a heady value that had him wondering if Jim would question it.

"Bones," Jim's voice began again, a slightly placating tone making the doctor's raised hackles settle if only slightly. "I know you hate missions, but they're asking for you by name- they say they can't give us any more information until you're up here, so you're going to have to leave Sickbay for a little while." Jim was wavering between kind-friend mode and Mister-Captain-Pants mode and Bones cursed him, wishing the excitable young man would just pick one way to approach him and stick to it.

He sat in silence for a moment, thinking. No matter what, he would end up going to the bridge, be it by his own will or by Jim's order. With a sigh, he terminated the comm link and rose from his desk, exiting the small office with a nod to Nurse Chapel. He left her in charge before making his way swiftly down the hall to the turbolift, wondering all the while what kind of medical pandemic could possibly be going on for Star Fleet to request him by name.

The question remained forefront and unanswered as he stepped onto the bridge, a relatively calm scene meeting his eyes and throwing him for a minor loop. Everyone remained at their stations, while the Captain stood a few feet in front of his chair, one hand clasped on the back of Ensign Chekov's seat and eyes focused on the main view screen, currently displaying the visage of a relatively young, uniform-clad woman. She seemed too young for what she was doing, even if she was near 26.

"It's nice to see you again, Doctor." The woman's tone was even, betraying nothing even as she watched him come to stand beside Jim on the bridge.

"And you, Lieutenant Commander Vaaco." His own tone was more casual, almost loosing the gentle roll of the drawl. He remembers meeting her for the first time, when she was a baby. She's got her grandfather's brown eyes- the same eyes that had watched over him, aided him in escaping the UAC in the beginning; eyes mirrored by those of her father, the man who had helped him into Star Fleet the first time... The same eyes as the man who's original mission had been to eradicate him.

It's three weeks after that when he comes to a rest somewhere near Michigan, the wind a biting force outside. He forces himself to sit still in the diner, order something off the menu with a grunt and a jab of the finger- he's probably scared the poor waitress, but he's too tired to care about that- he really should have slept before now, but he hadn't. He had kept moving, too scared that stopping would mean still being too close to her; not enough of a buffer zone if they caught up to him.

He hadn't let himself admit the real reason he hadn't stopped, hadn't slept. He could feel it, just there on the corners of his mind, begging and scratching and screaming to get in- ever present. The blood, the screams- it all came back to haunt him with a clarity he'd rather not have. He could feel the fear in his blood, could see Sarge's eyes contract as though he'd sighted food, could still hear and feel and see the metal bar piercing through his hand with a ferocious movement.

But even with the powers and the clarity came the realization that he couldn't go for a full week without any sleep. He was drawing pretty closely on the last dregs of that week; soon he would cave under the pressure and

He's eating some kind of soup- the meat floating around in the vegetable broth tastes like it might be some hybrid of a chicken-beef. Apparently one of his new super-human-powers was not the ability to discern what kind of drivel some back-wash diner served him.

The sound of the tiny bell ringing over the door draws his attention briefly to the door; fairly young guy, average- black hair, brown eyes and a fairly toned build. He looked like he might have some Asian in him, but then again, this part of America could mean he was Samoan and John would never know the difference.

Tucking his gaze before he's caught lingering too long, he forces his thoughts back to the 'plan'- that non-existent thought that kept reminding him that he was a UAC fugitive, that he couldn't go back to the Corps. He doesn't notice the guy dropping down across from him in the booth until he's already talking. "Looks like I've finally caught up to you."

Reaper forces down the immediate urge to berate himself and reach for his firearm, schooling his face to 'calm' as he takes in the man's interlaced fingers, resting just in front of his face. He looks slightly amused even as Reaper takes in the UAC embroidery on his shirt. He'd fucking known he shouldn't have held off on sleeping so long.

"Don't worry, Mr. Grimm. I'm not here to do anything to you." the guy's voice was calm, complimenting the easy smile he alluded even as he eyed the hand Reaper had over the handle of his standard issue knife. "I'm Esmond Vaaco, but I guess you can call me Ed."

The handshake is so unexpected that Reaper is reacting to it more from shock than any urge to know the man across from him, grasp tentative. "Unusual name." It's all he can think to say, and he silently reassesses 'Ed' feeling his guard slip slightly. He's not near ready to let it go completely just yet, though. The silence drags on, and it almost feels normal for a moment before Reaper decides it's time to cut through the bullshit.

"So if you aren't here to fuck with me, then what is a UAC officer doing in a back-woods diner that coincidentally has a UAC fugitive? Gonna try and give me the 'come back peacefully, we only want to run tests' bullshit? Or are you just gonna give the impression of a choice and kill me?" He knew it was crass to just come out and say it like that, but he'd never been as fluent in bureaucratic bullshit as Sarge had been, and he's fucking sick of running from it.

Ed just smiled for a moment before leaning back in the booth, legs stretching out and seeming to relax. "Officially, my orders are to eradicate all evidence of what happened at the Olduvai facility- including you. The higher-ups said they'd like to have you alive, but the scientists say you'd probably be just as useful dead." He paused, letting the information that he'd already known sink further in. "My team sealed the facility- we'll send in survey teams in about a century- hopefully it'll be enough to kill off whatever lived through the blast you let loose- but that still leaves you and our dear Dr. Grimm."

Reaper's eyes pinned to Ed, guard shooting on full blast as the man watched with amusement. "We've already found her. I managed to convince the higher-ups that she doesn't know anything; after all, the human mind is so fragile and can cover up so many damaging memories for it's own safety, don't you agree?" He paused again as Reaper's shoulders dropped slightly, gaze turning utterly suspicious. "As long as she doesn't say anything about what she saw there, she will be safe. Some of my men will be near by to make sure UAC doesn't change their minds suddenly."

"How can I trust you? How do I know Sam's not already dead? How, in short, can I trust any bit of the drivel you've just tried to feed me? You admit you work for the people who want to kill me; hell, you admit you're supposed to be here to kill me yourself; so where in all of that is any reason I should trust what the fuck you're saying to me?" Reaper's voice is gruff as he stares at Ed. The other man knew what he was thinking- what he wasn't saying- how could he trust Ed when he was part of the company that had bred those... THINGS. Distantly, Reaper realized he would soon need to classify the monsters, if for no other reason than to give himself something to call them.

Ed paused as Reaper's words hung heavy in the air between them. Brown eyes turned to take in the abandoned soup on the tabletop before he answered. "Look, I know none of this really fits. You've got every right to be apprehensive as fuck, because, hell, you're a wanted man. But I saw what happened there. I saw the bodies and the facility; and I watched the security footage. No man should have to face half the shit you did and walk away sane, so I don't even question the paranoia. Don't take offense at this, but I feel sorry for you- you and your sister. Nobody should have to come out of what the two of you did and need to run and hide. You did not know what was going on down there, and neither one of you were in control of it, but as a consequence of what you saw, you're being hunted down by greedy bastards who's only concern revolves around the size of their pocket books." Ed nodded slowly, almost as if reassuring himself of his own words as he eyed Reaper.

"They don't take into account the human element of what the fuck they're dealing with- don't like the variables of it, and expect us all to act just like training should dictate- act without question, eradicate without knowledge." His voice was low, and Reaper had the feeling that he wasn't the one being addressed here anymore. Ed drew a somewhat slow, uneven breath as his eyes dropped to his interlaced fingers, and Reaper noticed a slight discoloration in the skin; a thin, pale line of skin. "My wife was up there." The words were low, shaken, and Reaper reeled back, shoulders slamming with a dulled THUNK onto the back of the booth. Shouldn't Ed want to kill him? Shouldn't he be pissed that Reaper'd not tried to help his wife? Hell, part of Reaper wanted to die; but for that semi-large nag of no,don'tdie,mustn'tdie kept getting in the fucking way of that hope. None of it was quite adding up, but Ed wasn't attacking him; in fact the easy relaxation that had framed the man seemed to be seeping down, tinged with regret and sadness.

"They said she'd be back two months ago. Promised, as a matter of fact. She'd already been there four months over her original assignment. We fought to get her back here on time, but they cited her experience and said she was needed for a classified experiment- refused our request in their completely regulation language..." There was a short pause, where Ed's lips twisted angrily into a line that told of bemusement and Reaper seriously began questioning the other man's sanity. "You know the real fucked up part?" Ed's voice cracked on 'part' a low, dangerous sound that came out in a near-growl and spoke to a deep part of Reaper, had him inclining his head for more. "One of my kids was up there."

Reaper freezes, eyes going wide as his hand seizes up. Images of the Kid flash in his mind; a joking smile, a gleeful jaunt to the carrier, the drugged look in his eyes, the blood and the panic pooling over his face and neck. And it's all intermingled with flashes of himself as a child, chasing after Sam up a steep incline, laughing and trying to warn her; their mother's voice escalating into a sudden scream as the world shifted violently. The memory of the former was far more clear than he'd like to admit, and the memories of the latter were too frightening to hope for clarity.

"Now, I only have my son... to keep close, to remember... to share my pain with. That should never happen to a thirteen-year-old, Mr. Grimm." His voice is low, strangled as he watches Reaper from across the table, and John is forced to imagine father and son trying to recover from this, and all his mind feeds him is images of himself and Sam in the foster homes, trying to cling to memories that might bee too painful to keep but would be devastating to forget. In the ensuing silence, the waitress returns, slowly as if she's afraid, and takes Reaper's abandoned soup, offering coffee that is accepted by both parties with somewhat absent nods.

"So... This isn't about helping us... this is about getting revenge for her." Reaper's words seem to startle Ed slightly, but he laughs somewhat bitterly, offering a nod.

"Something like that." His words are easy, regaining some of the ease and comfort he'd held at first as Reaper hunched forward over his coffee, fingers absently tapping out a tune he'd not had the thought to hear since he was twenty. "I know it's a complicated situation, but I can try and keep you hidden; if you're still in."

There's a long pause where both of them take in what Ed's just said and what he's not just said. They both know that if Reaper turns him down, there's really only two options. Ed- apparently gambling on the safe side- decides to point-blank force Reaper to think about those two dangling threats he would really love not to be on the table. "If you refuse my help, I'll have to complete my mission. Either that or say I didn't find you- but if I do that, they're gonna send out a more 'competent' agent to do it, and something tells me they won't be very likely to have a deal ready for the table like this."

Thinking about it, Reaper knows Ed's right. This is probably as damn near a chance at a- he does not think the word 'normal'- human life as he's gonna be getting. The only other viable option seems to be fuck up the chance, either end up dead or running and either way get caught eventually and have the C24 running in his system used and experimented on until more of those fucked up Things- he feels some kind of sick satisfaction in calling them Things-capital-T, it gives them something like a name- are running around to be used as weapons and sold off to whoever feels like ripping a field to shreds.

Only one problem.

"How the fuck do you expect to keep me hidden from them, if they're so hell-bent on me being caught or destroyed?" Reaper's voice is angry, gruff, and accusing, and Ed knows that he thinks he's found the loophole that proves that this is all just a load of horse shit.

"You ever had real Louisiana Gumbo?" The question is so out in left field that Reaper can find nothing better to do than gape openly at Ed, who's grinning like he's won the Nobel-fucking-peace-prize.

"Okay... I'm lost." The concession is drawn from Reaper absently, the ex-space-marine staring openly at the man who's meant to be his reaper- an irony that by no means escapes him.

"You're going to be staying at my house." Ed's still grinning that prize-winning grin and Reaper's officially certain he's lost his entire fucking mind in the past few seconds of conversation. "Look at it this way- Why would the UAC look at my house for you? Even if they don't believe me when I say you're dead- and they will believe me, because they think I blame you for Amice- my wife's- death. They trust their employees to follow blindly. They don't expect us to change or go against orders. So the last place they'd expect to need to look for you is the same place you're going."

It's a good plan, Reaper thinks distantly, but he's seeing a semi-glaring set of flaws that are kind of pretty much going to bite him painfully in his ass. "What about your kid?"

The question seemed to throw Ed slightly for a moment, the man's dark brows drawing down over his eyes quietly. "My son's got nothing to do with this choice, John." His voice was steady, as if the words were really what he believed.

"Ed, we don't know what the C24's done to me. I can heal too fast, I'm a wanted man, I could go completely berserk- there is so much that can go wrong with this plan of yours, and that's not even beginning to take into account that your son may just not like me. Plus, there's no telling how long I'm due to live for with this goddamn gene- what happens if I outlive you, what then? Simple as that. He's got everything to do with this." Reaper tries and fails to hide the cynical tinge to his voice, eyes dropping to where his hands, scrubbed clean without a trace of the hell they had caused left, lay on the table.

"Look; I'm not saying you have to stay with us until you die. I've read your file, Reaper- I know you couldn't do that. But there's a committee that's looking into forming a colony; off-planet stuff. They need people to build and man it, and from what information's been released they aren't going to be too terribly picky beyond a need for excellent health- which, we both know damn well you can pass. So you stay at my ground zero for a while, and then we get you into this colony program when it opens. Beyond that, even if by some miracle you didn't make it into the colony program, I doubt you're immortal. Sure, you'll have one hell of an extended life, but that's about it, I'm thinking." Ed's almost careless twisting of his own arguments had Reaper silently fuming.

"So, your plan is, what? Pray that my version of 'death by old age' isn't going to be a few centuries away, at soonest? Send me away to a colony- where they will more than likely notice I'm not aging after a while, don't you think?" Reaper's voice was bitter, a frown stretching his face and drawing the corners of his eyes into tension. "I'm not sure you've really thought about this, Ed- about what all this can lead to."

Ed sighed, a look of anger and exasperation warring on his dark features, eyes boring into Reaper across the table as he suddenly slammed his palm down on the tabletop, making the coffee cups clang and those who'd been unfortunate enough to sit nearby jump in the air. "Do you have a better plan!? Do you? Because from what I can see, you're about ready to pass out, you've barely eaten, and the only 'plan' running through your head right now is 'don't get caught in the next five minutes' set on repeat! The way I see it, Everything fucking dies at some point or another- dogs, cats, people, planets, stars, and the people that came through that goddamn ark sure as hell aren't meandering about with us today, are they? So, yeah, that's my plan, but so far as I can tell it's about a million miles more stable than yours!"

John was left to stare at Ed, who was quietly fuming, hand still pressed flat against the abused table. Ed was right, he knew. When he'd surfaced with Sam, his plan had been to get her safe, and once that was done, he'd had absolutely no idea- all he'd known was he needed to stay away from her, and he needed to stay hidden from the UAC.

Ed had nailed it head on- the plan had been to stay safe for small increments of time, because if he didn't plan ahead too far, it wouldn't hurt as much when the planning fell through and he was finally caught. The realization that he'd been expecting to be captured- had been awaiting a virtual death sentence for weeks on end- jarred him slightly.

Slowly, John "Reaper" Grimm drew in a shaky breath, leveling his eyes to Ed's still furious browns. "If this is a trap, I'll find a way to rip your head off." The threat was real, and he could see that Ed knew that even as a broad smile erased the anger and exasperation written on his face.

"Welcome to the Vaaco family."

Bones starts out of his thoughts, still staring at the face he'd known for too long on a screen that shouldn't be this familiar. The bridge was silent, the entire crew staring as though there were a tennis match being held between himself and the Lieutenant Commander. Forcing back the flinch he knows is begging to escape, Bones clears his throat. "What was so important that you need me, specifically?"

It was like the words shattered some kind of trance, and everyone focused once more on Vaaco. "You're not going to like this, Doctor McCoy." She takes a steady breath, and there's no hint of the little girl humor that she sometimes slips in with him, and he just fucking knows shit's about to hit the fan, and there's really only two things that could do that- which means, it's either his "Ex wife" or that god-forsaken (and blessedly abandoned) place. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be Vaaco contacting him if it was the former.

"Just about par for the course, Darlin'." He drawls out, and he knows she's thinking the same thing- she's never been one to comm him for much else beyond emergencies, deaths, UAC activity, or a combination of the three. He figures that as long as she's giving him a warning, he's got a little fraction of a chance of this not totally fucking his life on the USS Enterprise over. "Just give me the damn information; I've still got reports to write."

Her eyebrow quirks up and, in an asinine moment of insanity, Bones feels like laughing at the trait, because she'd obviously picked it up from her dad, too- and he'd been the one to get him going on it. But he forces the urge down, because he knows the eyebrow talk is her way of telling him that she knows what the gruff, frank tone of his voice is about, and it's pretty clear that she still remembers the near-nightmare tale her daddy used to tell her about a place called Olduvai and a man who called himself Reaper. She knows he's irritated, can tell he doesn't want to hear anything to do with the goddamn place, just like she doesn't want to bring it up, and all he can think is that it damn well better be a excellent fucking reason or he's gonna go back to his med bay and try to forget that he's not really Leonard "Bones" McCoy.

All the eyebrow-talk is completely useless to the senior crew who are staring with questioning eyes around, not getting any of what's going on beyond the fact that their CMO somehow knows this higher-up officer. And that just doesn't make sense to the captain, who's pretty fucking sure he's been Bones' only friend since for-fucking-ever. So this just doesn't fit because this chick looks only a little older than himself, and that means she can't be the goddamn ex, who's not even part of the 'Fleet to begin with! So when his crew looks over at him for some kind of explanation, it's for the first time in a shit long while he's had to shrug at them in a 'I-don't-fucking-know' way, and he does not like it.

"We're gonna give you standard ST's and a V-stock G36. You'll also have access to a pair of Desert Eagles, and a Mini-Vulcan M1919 if you want them. You want more? You've got it; no questions asked, no track ability." The part of Reaper that's managed to bust past the thick layer of Bones stares at the screen, and a little part of him salivates at the mention of the powerful weapons, at the familiar memory of powerful guns and grenades activating in his hands and a eerily cheerful automated voice ('handle ID Reaper') ringing in his ears.

Everyone's now looking at Spock who's looking decidedly surprised in his own little Vulcan way, in this case meaning a valiant attempt on his eyebrows' parts to escape deep into his scalp. The same question is about to scream all of their brains out at the same time- 'what the fuck is a mini-Vulcan?' Spock's staring openly at McCoy now, and though he still looks Vulcan-bewildered, Jim's starting to suspect that his First Officer probably already might have a concrete hypothesis as to what it meant- but Bones seemed to know what the fuck she meant, and that was mildly scary because Jim still remembered that he'd almost failed his way out of every combat training course he'd been required to take, and to him those sounded like weapon names.

Powerful weapon names.

But that was beside the point, because Bones was answering her calmly, arms crossed over his chest as his voice drawled over his vowels lazily. "Y'all sound like I've already accepted, and here I am without a clue as to what in blazin' hell you're talkin' about me doin'." the CMO's eyes seemed to dart toward the rest of the crew as Vaaco cleared her throat once more.

"Scientists have been given permission to go back. They know what happened, but they think it's been neutralized- you need to help us make them realize that is not the case."

The commander's eyes circled the room, catching the others before returning to Bones' stiff form. "You- didn't quite finish it with that last fight you had. You need to finish what you start in brawls, you see... Tie up loose ends, as it were."

Okay, so that part of the woman's statements didn't fit at-fucking-all to Jim, and he didn't bother trying to hide it, looking at bones incredulously. The last fight Jim remembered Bones being involved in concerned a bar on Risa, Shore leave, a guy trying to fondle him none too couthly and had ended without any major delays for them being resolved completely when the offender had been carted off by the bouncer.... hadn't it?

It seemed, though, that everyone else on the bridge had recoiled slightly. For a moment, Jim couldn't understand why. Suddenly, though, he thought about it. He'd only ever seen Bones wielding his hyposprays, and- on very rare occasion- his fists; but the Commander was talking about guns. Powerful guns and other weapons of the like, if the names were anything to go by, and Jim was pretty sure he was now getting the same image the rest of his senior crew had been flashed with- an unstable guy with a gun, an itchy 'hypo-hand' (as it were) and reasons for wielding said instruments that alluded them. The image was pretty intimidating.

In any case, Bones- still, it seemed- was the only one who fully understood what was happening, and answered. "I'll do it- when are they supposed to arrive?"

The Commander smiled, eyes laughingly bright. "On to the best part, then, is it?" Bones remained silent, watching her with the face that Jim had come to realize meant 'I-am-not-in-the-mood-mister'. "Two standard days from now." The commander's clarification did not improve the CMO's demeanor by one nuance.

There was really only one word that could possibly summarize the thoughts and feelings streaming through Bones’ mind in that instant and it came spewing out of his mouth so fast, he didn’t stand a chance of even pretending he’d meant to say it- hell, he was shit lucky it came out with a second-nature Georgia drawl stamped across it's ass. “Fuuuuuuuck.”

Jim almost choked at his CMO's decidedly non-regulation outburst and was about to apologize for him when he was addressed. "Captain," began Commander Vaaco, "You need to head toward the terranian system planet Mars. The Doctor will input the exact coordinates. My ship will rendezvous with the Enterpriseat location and we will board your ship with supplies." Her gaze turned back to Bones, shoulders dropping for the first time into a somewhat-friendly pose.

"Mission go is set for 1100 hours tomorrow. Be ready." She smiled, the motion tugging at her lips and making her eyes shimmer again. "Be careful."

As the screen went dark, all eyes went to the CMO, who was already bent over Chekov's station, keying in coordinates as the Ensign looked on in shock.

A/N: For those of you who want to know what Reaper was tapping, it was Place for my Head by Linkin Park.

I accept all comments and criticisms. Though I have no idea about my beta. ^^;