Fic: Deleted Scenes from "Starting Over"
Well, they're not totally deleted scenes such as scenes that happened a bit after the story, and they both started life as random email snippets for boosette, but they've been cleaned up a bit and here they are.
Title: Alien . . . Sex . . . Mold?
Summary: One tells Pike about recent events on the Yorktown.
Pairing: Pike/One
Rating: PG-13
Content Advisory: Pike drops an f-bomb, quoting.
Word Count: 700
Notes: This story probably won't make sense unless you know what happened in Starting Over, and I'm not sure I can gloss it succinctly. Suffice it to say that the Yorktown encounters, well, alien sex mold. And also, this fills the "sex: pollen, spores, or other intoxicants" square on my PikeOne bingo card. Thanks to boosette, who wanted to know what it was that One would have said to Pike if she would have called him while under the influence.
Number One runs into her quarters a few minutes later than she wants; the Yorktown will be within comm range of Earth and Chris is supposed to call at 2230; it’s now 2229. She hates running late, but explosions in hangar bays apparently don’t care that she has previous commitments.
The comm unit whistles and the beta-shift communications officer announces the incoming call.
“Put it through, Ensign,” she says.
“Hey, One.” Chris’s face appears on the screen, and she smiles involuntarily.
“Hey, Chris.” She settles into her seat, leaning her forearms on her desk. “How are you doing?”
“Much better, now that I’m talking to you,” he says, smiling back.
“Rough week?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. New classes and new cadets, but the same stupid questions.” He waves a hand in the air and then uses it to rub the back of his head in a gesture she knows well. “Well, actually, there is something new. I picked this kid up off the floor of a bar in Riverside, Iowa, bleeding and bruised, having decided to get his ass kicked by four of my cadets, and you’ll never guess who it was.” He grins at her, clearly pleased with himself.
“Who?”
“James Tiberius Kirk.”
“The Kelvin baby?” She’s read his dissertation; probably the only person other than his advisor who has.
“Yes, of all people, and I somehow managed to convince him to enlist.”
“Really.” Someone he picked up off the floor of a bar? He’d always been an excellent judge of character, though.
“Yeah. We’ll see what happens. I’m keeping an eye on him, of course.”
“Well, keep me updated,” she says.
“I will,” he says. “If I’m right, he’ll shake things up in a way we need. But anyway, what’s this about an incident with pollen?”
One sighs. She’d quiz him about shaking things up later, although she’s fairly certain she’s heard the speech before. “You’re not going to believe this.” She fills him in on the pertinent details that didn’t make it into her report.
When she finishes, his eyes are wide. “Alien . . . sex . . . mold?”
“Alien mold residue that, when combined with alpharazin, turned into some sort of intoxicant with a side of libido enhancement,” she corrects. “I heard a rumor that it made Phil sing in the shower.”
Chris snorts. “I feel sorry for whoever had to hear that. He can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
“Oh?”
“Believe me when I tell you that you never, ever want to go to Starfleet Karaoke Night with him. What did it do to you?” he asks, curiosity evident in his tone.
“It didn’t affect me for very long,” she says, oddly reluctant.
“Yeah?”
“I had Ensign Jarvis knock me out.”
“But what happened before that?” He knows her well enough to know that she’s hiding something.
She sighs. “I appear to have informed certain individuals of things that perhaps I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, God,” Chris says. “You told Cait about Phil.”
“Among other things, yes. On the other hand, Phil and Cait appear to have been holed up in his quarters since he got out of Sickbay, so it may have worked out.”
Chris raises both eyebrows. “Well. I’ll comm him later, I guess.” He pauses before asking, “So you just got mouthy?”
She gives him a small smile. “In Cait’s words, I ‘dropped a couple of f-bombs.’”
“Ha,” Chris says. “I’ve never heard you say that outside of very specific situations.”
“Yes, well.” She doesn’t want to talk about those situations. At least not yet.
“Really, though, One, you said ‘fuck’ a few times, you told Cait about Phil . . .” He trails off and raises both eyebrows again.
“I wasn’t suffering for very long before Jarvis knocked me out.” By this point, though, she’s just toying with him.
“You didn’t, say, have any effects on your libido?”
He’s smirking. Of course he’s smirking, she thinks. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe, if I had not been knocked out, I would have called you.”
“Yeah? And what would you have said?”
She leans into the monitor a little bit more and lowers her voice. “Maybe I would have described to you in explicit detail every single thing I want you to do to me next time we’re together.”
He takes a deep breath. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Next time,” he says, leaning in, face intent, “call me.”
--
Title: Hiding in the Supply Closet
Summary: Ally meets Christine Chapel for the first time.
Characters: Christine Chapel, Ally Jarvis, Dana Cathcart
Rating: PG
Content Advisory: Nothing in particular.
Word Count: 800
Notes: Following about 3 years after Starting Over. Pretty much all you need to know is that Ally is scared to death of authority figures, primarily Number One.
Christine Chapel loved being Head Nurse, even though she’d only officially been Head Nurse for about two days, because it meant she got an office. There was almost nothing she loved more than organizing her desk. No, really-it was comforting in a way that she really couldn’t describe. She also got to organize her mind today; everyone on the ship who was cross-trained and -qualified in Medical would be coming to meet with her so she could determine how to use them in emergencies.
Her next meeting was with a Lieutenant Allison Jarvis, just transferred from the Yorktown, and according to her file, partnered with Nurse Dana Cathcart, on whom Christine had already started to depend. Dana had already told her that Jarvis had some minor issues with fear of authority, and Christine was doing her best to project an image of competence without being frightening. Jarvis would have enough issues with Dr. McCoy ranting and storming around.
A hail sounded at her door, and she grinned as she said, “Come.” The door slid open, and a petite blonde woman who matched the picture of Allison Jarvis on file looked in.
“Hello, Nurse Chapel, I’m-Oh!” Her eyes went wide; she staggered briefly, grabbed the door frame, and blinked a couple of times. “I-excuse me.” She darted away, half stumbling, half running, and-went into the supply closet?
Christine stood up, went to the door of the supply closet, and when it didn’t open automatically, tapped on one of the panels and said, “Lieutenant Jarvis?” She got no answer, so she pressed a button on the nearest wall comm unit and said, “Nurse Cathcart, please report to Sickbay.”
Dana appeared a few minutes later, during which time Jarvis had not budged. “Nurse Chapel?” she asked.
“Lieutenant Jarvis has apparently locked herself in the supply closet,” Christine said, “and I really have no clue as to how to get her out.”
“What happened?” Dana asked.
“The door to my office opened; she took one look at me, and ran away.”
“Huh,” Dana said. She typed a code into the door to the supply closet, and the door opened easily, revealing Lt. Jarvis sitting in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, face buried. “If you’ll excuse us for a minute, Nurse Chapel?”
Christine nodded and backed away. She didn’t go back into her office, but stayed out of earshot. A few minutes later, a splotchily-red-faced Ally Jarvis came out of the supply closet, Dana a couple feet behind her. She walked up to Christine, offered a hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Lieutenant Allison Jarvis, cross-trained and qualified as an EMT. I apologize for my behavior earlier. You . . . “ Jarvis sighed. “You strongly resemble the captain of the Yorktown, and I was caught off-guard.”
“Oh,” Christine said. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Jarvis. Is she pretty?” She grinned, to show it was a joke.
Jarvis stared at her. “I honestly have no idea,” she admitted after about thirty seconds of silence. The pitch of her voice had gone up by about an octave, and on the second syllable of the last word, she’d, well, squeaked.
Christine looked up and caught Dana’s gaze over Jarvis’s head; Dana nodded briefly. “Well, anyway, thank you for introducing yourself to me, Lieutenant Jarvis. You’ll be on call about once a month, no more.”
Jarvis nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Jarvis exchanged a look with Dana, nodded once, said, “Yes, sir,” again, and left, although ‘fled’ might have described her action better.
Christine watched her go, and then herded Dana into her office. “What was that all about?”
Dana sighed. “If you’d met Captain One, you’d probably understand.”
“Do I really look that much like her?”
“Yes,” Dana said. “She’s got dark brown hair and I think she’s about ten years older than you are, but other than that, the resemblance is disturbing. You can ask some of the other Yorktown transfers.”
“Brown hair, you say?” Christine asked.
“Yes; why?”
“When Captain-well, now Admiral, but he was Captain then-Pike was coming out of the anesthesia in between a couple of surgeries, he stared at me for a moment, and asked why my hair was blonde. I told him it came that way, and he said, ‘No, it doesn’t,’ before passing out again.” Christine smiled briefly at the memory. “I didn’t ask him about it later; it seemed kind of stupid to do so.”
Dana blinked. “Can I tell Ally that story? She’ll get a kick out of it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Dana left, and Christine asked the computer to show her a holo of the captain of the Yorktown. It brought up a shot, and she stared for a long moment. It was like looking into a strange mirror. She could catalog minor differences other than the hair and the age, but otherwise, yes, she did resemble Captain One quite strongly. Well, she thought, at least I’ll still be hot in ten years.
Title: Alien . . . Sex . . . Mold?
Summary: One tells Pike about recent events on the Yorktown.
Pairing: Pike/One
Rating: PG-13
Content Advisory: Pike drops an f-bomb, quoting.
Word Count: 700
Notes: This story probably won't make sense unless you know what happened in Starting Over, and I'm not sure I can gloss it succinctly. Suffice it to say that the Yorktown encounters, well, alien sex mold. And also, this fills the "sex: pollen, spores, or other intoxicants" square on my PikeOne bingo card. Thanks to boosette, who wanted to know what it was that One would have said to Pike if she would have called him while under the influence.
Number One runs into her quarters a few minutes later than she wants; the Yorktown will be within comm range of Earth and Chris is supposed to call at 2230; it’s now 2229. She hates running late, but explosions in hangar bays apparently don’t care that she has previous commitments.
The comm unit whistles and the beta-shift communications officer announces the incoming call.
“Put it through, Ensign,” she says.
“Hey, One.” Chris’s face appears on the screen, and she smiles involuntarily.
“Hey, Chris.” She settles into her seat, leaning her forearms on her desk. “How are you doing?”
“Much better, now that I’m talking to you,” he says, smiling back.
“Rough week?”
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. New classes and new cadets, but the same stupid questions.” He waves a hand in the air and then uses it to rub the back of his head in a gesture she knows well. “Well, actually, there is something new. I picked this kid up off the floor of a bar in Riverside, Iowa, bleeding and bruised, having decided to get his ass kicked by four of my cadets, and you’ll never guess who it was.” He grins at her, clearly pleased with himself.
“Who?”
“James Tiberius Kirk.”
“The Kelvin baby?” She’s read his dissertation; probably the only person other than his advisor who has.
“Yes, of all people, and I somehow managed to convince him to enlist.”
“Really.” Someone he picked up off the floor of a bar? He’d always been an excellent judge of character, though.
“Yeah. We’ll see what happens. I’m keeping an eye on him, of course.”
“Well, keep me updated,” she says.
“I will,” he says. “If I’m right, he’ll shake things up in a way we need. But anyway, what’s this about an incident with pollen?”
One sighs. She’d quiz him about shaking things up later, although she’s fairly certain she’s heard the speech before. “You’re not going to believe this.” She fills him in on the pertinent details that didn’t make it into her report.
When she finishes, his eyes are wide. “Alien . . . sex . . . mold?”
“Alien mold residue that, when combined with alpharazin, turned into some sort of intoxicant with a side of libido enhancement,” she corrects. “I heard a rumor that it made Phil sing in the shower.”
Chris snorts. “I feel sorry for whoever had to hear that. He can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
“Oh?”
“Believe me when I tell you that you never, ever want to go to Starfleet Karaoke Night with him. What did it do to you?” he asks, curiosity evident in his tone.
“It didn’t affect me for very long,” she says, oddly reluctant.
“Yeah?”
“I had Ensign Jarvis knock me out.”
“But what happened before that?” He knows her well enough to know that she’s hiding something.
She sighs. “I appear to have informed certain individuals of things that perhaps I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, God,” Chris says. “You told Cait about Phil.”
“Among other things, yes. On the other hand, Phil and Cait appear to have been holed up in his quarters since he got out of Sickbay, so it may have worked out.”
Chris raises both eyebrows. “Well. I’ll comm him later, I guess.” He pauses before asking, “So you just got mouthy?”
She gives him a small smile. “In Cait’s words, I ‘dropped a couple of f-bombs.’”
“Ha,” Chris says. “I’ve never heard you say that outside of very specific situations.”
“Yes, well.” She doesn’t want to talk about those situations. At least not yet.
“Really, though, One, you said ‘fuck’ a few times, you told Cait about Phil . . .” He trails off and raises both eyebrows again.
“I wasn’t suffering for very long before Jarvis knocked me out.” By this point, though, she’s just toying with him.
“You didn’t, say, have any effects on your libido?”
He’s smirking. Of course he’s smirking, she thinks. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe, if I had not been knocked out, I would have called you.”
“Yeah? And what would you have said?”
She leans into the monitor a little bit more and lowers her voice. “Maybe I would have described to you in explicit detail every single thing I want you to do to me next time we’re together.”
He takes a deep breath. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Next time,” he says, leaning in, face intent, “call me.”
--
Title: Hiding in the Supply Closet
Summary: Ally meets Christine Chapel for the first time.
Characters: Christine Chapel, Ally Jarvis, Dana Cathcart
Rating: PG
Content Advisory: Nothing in particular.
Word Count: 800
Notes: Following about 3 years after Starting Over. Pretty much all you need to know is that Ally is scared to death of authority figures, primarily Number One.
Christine Chapel loved being Head Nurse, even though she’d only officially been Head Nurse for about two days, because it meant she got an office. There was almost nothing she loved more than organizing her desk. No, really-it was comforting in a way that she really couldn’t describe. She also got to organize her mind today; everyone on the ship who was cross-trained and -qualified in Medical would be coming to meet with her so she could determine how to use them in emergencies.
Her next meeting was with a Lieutenant Allison Jarvis, just transferred from the Yorktown, and according to her file, partnered with Nurse Dana Cathcart, on whom Christine had already started to depend. Dana had already told her that Jarvis had some minor issues with fear of authority, and Christine was doing her best to project an image of competence without being frightening. Jarvis would have enough issues with Dr. McCoy ranting and storming around.
A hail sounded at her door, and she grinned as she said, “Come.” The door slid open, and a petite blonde woman who matched the picture of Allison Jarvis on file looked in.
“Hello, Nurse Chapel, I’m-Oh!” Her eyes went wide; she staggered briefly, grabbed the door frame, and blinked a couple of times. “I-excuse me.” She darted away, half stumbling, half running, and-went into the supply closet?
Christine stood up, went to the door of the supply closet, and when it didn’t open automatically, tapped on one of the panels and said, “Lieutenant Jarvis?” She got no answer, so she pressed a button on the nearest wall comm unit and said, “Nurse Cathcart, please report to Sickbay.”
Dana appeared a few minutes later, during which time Jarvis had not budged. “Nurse Chapel?” she asked.
“Lieutenant Jarvis has apparently locked herself in the supply closet,” Christine said, “and I really have no clue as to how to get her out.”
“What happened?” Dana asked.
“The door to my office opened; she took one look at me, and ran away.”
“Huh,” Dana said. She typed a code into the door to the supply closet, and the door opened easily, revealing Lt. Jarvis sitting in the corner, her arms wrapped around her knees, face buried. “If you’ll excuse us for a minute, Nurse Chapel?”
Christine nodded and backed away. She didn’t go back into her office, but stayed out of earshot. A few minutes later, a splotchily-red-faced Ally Jarvis came out of the supply closet, Dana a couple feet behind her. She walked up to Christine, offered a hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Lieutenant Allison Jarvis, cross-trained and qualified as an EMT. I apologize for my behavior earlier. You . . . “ Jarvis sighed. “You strongly resemble the captain of the Yorktown, and I was caught off-guard.”
“Oh,” Christine said. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Jarvis. Is she pretty?” She grinned, to show it was a joke.
Jarvis stared at her. “I honestly have no idea,” she admitted after about thirty seconds of silence. The pitch of her voice had gone up by about an octave, and on the second syllable of the last word, she’d, well, squeaked.
Christine looked up and caught Dana’s gaze over Jarvis’s head; Dana nodded briefly. “Well, anyway, thank you for introducing yourself to me, Lieutenant Jarvis. You’ll be on call about once a month, no more.”
Jarvis nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Jarvis exchanged a look with Dana, nodded once, said, “Yes, sir,” again, and left, although ‘fled’ might have described her action better.
Christine watched her go, and then herded Dana into her office. “What was that all about?”
Dana sighed. “If you’d met Captain One, you’d probably understand.”
“Do I really look that much like her?”
“Yes,” Dana said. “She’s got dark brown hair and I think she’s about ten years older than you are, but other than that, the resemblance is disturbing. You can ask some of the other Yorktown transfers.”
“Brown hair, you say?” Christine asked.
“Yes; why?”
“When Captain-well, now Admiral, but he was Captain then-Pike was coming out of the anesthesia in between a couple of surgeries, he stared at me for a moment, and asked why my hair was blonde. I told him it came that way, and he said, ‘No, it doesn’t,’ before passing out again.” Christine smiled briefly at the memory. “I didn’t ask him about it later; it seemed kind of stupid to do so.”
Dana blinked. “Can I tell Ally that story? She’ll get a kick out of it.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Dana left, and Christine asked the computer to show her a holo of the captain of the Yorktown. It brought up a shot, and she stared for a long moment. It was like looking into a strange mirror. She could catalog minor differences other than the hair and the age, but otherwise, yes, she did resemble Captain One quite strongly. Well, she thought, at least I’ll still be hot in ten years.