— Uncertainlogic. - Blog Posts

❛ i wish i could say i’m making a difference, but i don’t know. ❜ - from mccoy

𝑈𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅𝑆𝑇𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐼𝑁𝐺 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝑃𝑂𝑆𝐸 𝑂𝐹 𝑂𝑁𝐸’𝑆 𝑆𝐸𝐿𝐹 and stacking it against the great and varied needs of which that purpose serves is, at its very best, a lesson in futility; then compounded by the fact that the type of individual Lenoard McCoy was, choosing to serve inside the field he did – there is the potential to habitually feel every effort was not enough. Though, in the very humble opinion of this Comms Officer, was that so many of them [ herself included ] had McCoy to thank for the very air in their lungs, because without him nearly half the crew of the Enterprise wouldn’t be alive to draw breath. The varying instances when it was McCoy alone, whose knowledge in xenobiology - she felt - often surpassed her own knowledge in xenolinguistics [ a point of pride she did not relinquish easily or to just anyone ], was the very difference between Commander Spock being amongst the living and amongst the – not.

It was late evening, both of them having come off the end of their Beta shifts, and the mess hall was thinly populated; a few late diners from Alpha shift finishing their meals, a table of cadets consumed in some deep gossip circulating the lower decks, and then McCoy and Uhura at their happily removed little table; present enough to seem normalized to the cadet class, but a area small enough to deter more company. Nyota’s hand cradled overtop of McCoy’s, and a smile ripped the seam of her mouth;

“Bones — ” her voice, warm like a smooth whisky, said the nickname most favored by their Captain; rarely did Uhura use the moniker unless very specifically trying to convey the gentle and intentional place she spoke from, “ — the difference you’ve made for some of these people is the difference between having their lives or being memory in an eulogy. At the end of it all, the only thing we can give is all that we have, and of anyone on this ship Lenoard ; I have seen you give everything when you didn’t have anything else left but those goddamn brilliant hands of yours.”

Fondly, Nyota’s hand squeezed his, “ — best in the fleet, am I right?”