(Untitled)

[hyposprayed]

Who: Nero and McCoy
When: nine tonight
Where: The infirmary, where else
What: McCoy needs to learn more about Romulan biology (not like that you fiends) and there just happens to be a Romulan on board.
Warnings: Probably blatant and unabashed space racism. That's how Star Trek rolls son

Comments

[omnicidalmaniac]

Nero, for his part, had absolutely no idea what to expect--why exactly McCoy wanted to see him was anyone's guess. He himself still hadn't sorted out just what that flood had done to him, and probably wasn't going to be able to for quite some time; the fact that he'd swapped Wardens hadn't helped, either. He'd never directly faced McCoy in his ordinary form before meeting him as his mirror self, which was just going to make this even more surreal. If that were even possible.

He'd never actually been to the infirmary, and had to check one of the maps to figure out where it even was. It was certainly nothing like the sickbay on the Narada, and out of sheer habit he checked the corners for potential attackers as soon as he'd walked in--hey, he was a Romulan. That wasn't paranoia, that was a survival skill.

[hyposprayed]

When he caught sight of Nero McCoy's jaw clenched slightly but he pushed himself from where he had been leaning back against the wall. At first glance he could see the many similarities with Vulcan anatomy, probably why T'Pol had managed to evade notice if she really were half Romulan.

"Nero." He didn't really like using the name, it felt a damned bit too familiar. Even if Nero had helped him during that flood, he was a different man then and McCoy wasn't so idealistic to think otherwise.

"Here's the deal, I want to do some scans. I'm not going to tell you why but I can say they don't have a damned thing to do with you. At worst we both waste some of our time, at best you get your health checked and I get to do my job." He explained, keeping his arms crossed as he watched Nero.

[omnicidalmaniac]

Nero's reaction was little less extreme, simply because the sheer dissonance of seeing McCoy like this as opposed to like the Nero he'd been during the flood was...vast. Very, very vast. Just one more thing about that bizarre time he still couldn't reconcile.

McCoy was right about the similarities in anatomy, too; he himself wouldn't have known T'Pol was half Romulan if she hadn't effectively tried to mind-rape him. He'd promised her he'd say nothing of that to anyone, however, and even as this Nero he was hardly about to go back on his word. He wondered if she wasn't part of the reason the doctor wanted these scans, but it wasn't exactly something he could ask even if he'd thought there was a chance in any of the seven hells McCoy would actually answer.

"Very well," he said, guarded as ever but also intensely curious. Curiosity was not normally a trait highly prized in Romulans, but he was already dead--he could be curious if he damn well wanted to. "What is it you would have me do, exactly?"

[hyposprayed]

McCoy eyed him for a moment, openly distrusting before he nodded to one of the beds. "Lie down and I'll set the scanner up." He said after a beat, walking over to one of the low counters the device was lying on and holding it up for Nero's benefit. "It'll take some superficial scans, doesn't even have to touch you."

There were a few things he wanted to ask but he kept his mouth shut. Maybe after this, but at the moment all that mattered was getting the information he needed to put all this to rest.

[omnicidalmaniac]

Nero's expression was more wary than ever, but he shrugged out of his long coat and (rather reluctantly) lay on the table. He'd spent too much time strapped to tables on Rura Penthe to be able to do so now without a slight qualm, too much time being rather creatively tortured. He'd known exactly what a Centaurian slug felt like before he used it on Pike; he'd got the thing from the Klingons before he escaped, in addition to having to dig out the one in his gut. At least the infirmary here was like nothing on the prison planet. And at least McCoy was highly unlikely to torture him, however much he might want to.

He looked at the scanner just as warily, but it certainly didn't look like anything the Klingons had used on him. It had been so long since he'd been in a proper infirmary that he almost couldn't remember there were such things as medical devices designed to help rather than harm.

let me know if the slug observation is assuming too much!

[hyposprayed]

McCoy silently went about his task, running the scanner above Nero with slow, careful movements. If it weren't for all the baggage involved he could have enjoyed the discovery of it, seeing as no proper scans or work had been done on Romulan biology by the Federation or any planet the Federation had access to the medical files of. He was a little too busy with concern over T'Pol, or vague guilt at how angry Jim or Spock, despite what the Vulcan may say, would probably be at this

Nope, totally cool. :)

[omnicidalmaniac]

It took a surprising effort of will for Nero to stay still, and not jump up before the tests were half done. He hadn't thought all that time on Rura Penthe had stuck with him so badly, but this was turning out to be much more difficult than he'd anticipated. Huh. It was the sort of lingering psychological reaction, he thought, with a tinge of self-disgust, he'd normally only expect from a human. He'd been around too many of them too long.

The more he watched McCoy, the more certain he became that this had something to do with T'Pol--but he could hardly ask her about it, either. Well, he could, but he knew he'd get no answer beyond a very Vulcan kind of Look. Possibly complete with eyebrow

thanks :]

[hyposprayed]

"Maybe not in Romulans." McCoy said, tone edging on something like open hostility again. He probably would have informed him on Pike's chances of walking again if he thought it would make a difference. For all he knew Nero would be pleased to hear the Captain's condition.

"Who did it?" He asked, placing his scanner away in the cabinet as he spoke. He paused, remembering Uhura and her transmission. "The Klingons?"

Re: thanks :]

[omnicidalmaniac]

"Of course," Nero said, remembering the feeling of that thing working its way down into his stomach. "The Klingons are rather--creative--with things like that; I think they took lessons from the Tal Shiar. Romulus's secret police," he added, realizing McCoy would have no idea what he was talking about. "That wasn't the worst of their little pets, either, but I was of no use to them dead." He'd been little more good alive, but fortunately their patience with him hadn't run out.

He had to admit, it was...surreal...talking to McCoy now, now that he was himself and not that other him. Having met the doctor as that other Nero somehow made him not resent the man as he did the rest of the Enterprise crew, and that, like so much else that had happened during that flood, still confounded him utterly. At this point he wasn't sure he'd ever get over it.

[hyposprayed]

"You were on that prison planet then." It was rather obvious now, though it wasn't something he had given much thought to in the past.

McCoy stared at him, conflict rather obviously playing out on his face. The doctor in him wanted to ask about the damage the slug did, any lasting effects and was already considering what he could do about it with what they had here. The rest of him violently rebelled against that idea, it was Nero for god's sake, look what he did to Jim's life, to Spock's, if he had a few lasting headaches he damn well deserved them. Even with the Mirror flood, it was a betrayal to Jim and Spock, to the Federation maybe.

Damnit if he wasn't a doctor before anything else.

McCoy's fingers curled tightly for a moment before he ducked his head, suppressing a sigh. "Since the slug, have you had any lasting headaches or trouble forming thoughts?"

Sorry for the delay--family stuff, argh.

[omnicidalmaniac]

"I was."

He watched McCoy curiously, wondering what was behind that conflicted expression. Romulan physicians weren't bound by the sort of oaths Federation doctors took--it could be difficult to find one who wasn't willing to poison you for a sufficient fee. He had a hazy understanding that the Federation didn't work that way at all.

The doctor's question almost made him laugh, though quite without humor. He'd had trouble forming thoughts since long before the slug. "Headaches, yes," he said--though not so many since he'd died, thank all Fate. "Trouble forming thoughts--I do not think I could blame on the slug. Not entirely." Even he was aware he'd lost it a little while he was in prison; Nero wasn't stupid, just more than halfway crazy. The strange, formless, nearly uncontrollable quasi-telepathy certainly hadn't helped any, even if it had kept T'Pol from turning his consciousness to goo.

no problem! I hope everything's alright :<

[hyposprayed]

McCoy stared at him hard, lips twitching in a frown before he finally forced himself to say it. He knew damned well he was going to offer, no use delaying the inevitable.

"It seems like there was some residual scarring left from the slug." He started. "I'd need to take a few more scans but I think I may be able to fix some of the damage."

Yeah, just busy, bleh.

[omnicidalmaniac]

Both pointed eyebrows went up at that. No, definitely not like the doctors on Romulus; Nero had a feeling McCoy wouldn't poison him even now, though he likely still wanted to. Then again, he was dead; it wasn't like it would do anything anyway. Though the expression with which he regarded McCoy was still wary, it was less so than it had been earlier.

"It wouldn't surprise me," he said. "The infirmary on the Narada was not equipped for complex surgery." It got the job done, but it had been a mining ship, not a vessel of war, and there hadn't been time to update the sickbay when they turned the ship into a warship.

I feel you there

[hyposprayed]

McCoy didn't know what to make of the expression, maybe Romulans didn't practice medicine with much compassion. Hell, maybe he thought McCoy was an idiot for offering his enemy something like that. Lord knows he probably was.

Maybe he didn't believe him. "Then it's your choice." He said, trying for a strictly professional tone. "We have the technology here to do a good deal, and if we need something we can ask the Admiral. Talk to your warden about it."

[omnicidalmaniac]

Oddly, Nero wasn't considering McCoy weak for that offer--probably a residual after-effect of the flood, since the flood had been his introduction to the Doctor. He was right about the lack of compassion in Romulan medicine, though

[hyposprayed]

McCoy stared at him, something like surprise flashing across his face. He forced his expression to settle, the hostility still there but strained some how, almost confused.

"If you know why then you'll know not to say anything." He said. It was dangerous, the Romulans were their enemies in his time, in T'Pol's time. If the wrong people knew it could easily be used against her. If Nero knew-

He turned sharply for his PADD, tapping something in. "I have what I need, talk to that Warden of yours and we'll see about your head." He paused before shooting a glare at Nero. "Well, out with you. This isn't a damned social club." And McCoy wasn't sure he could handle anymore of the confusion he was already trying to smother.

[ooc; if you'd like to go ahead with this whole fixing his brain slug scarring thing I'm game :> he'd need to talk to Harvey then inform McCoy.]