bridge2sickbay offerings for this week: TV AUs & Fusions
I'm an AU whore. I really can't help myself.
Scotty/Enterprise -- Farscape
My name is Jim Kirk. I'm an astronaut. A radiation wave hit and I got shot through a wormhole. Lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship--a living ship--full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I'm being hunted by an insane military commander. I'm doing everything I can...I'm just looking for a way home.
"Scotty!" Jim bellowed. "Prepare for immediate Starburst!"
The voice of the ship's pilot, Scotty, chirped through the communicator. "I'm getting Enterprise ready, Jim," The incongruous Scottish brogue always made Jim wonder just what the translator microbes were smoking when they converted Scotty's native language. And then there was the fact that Scotty was an alien merged with the ship, which was alive "She cannae go any faster than what she is now," he added.
"Don't give me that, Scotty. Not now--not when Nero's on our asses," Jim replied and glanced over at Spock. "You know their capabilities better than anyone, Spock. What can we do?"
Spock eyed Jim coolly. "Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry. But the Vulcans turned to peace while the Romulans chose to hone their savagery into a military empire. As such, I cannot anticipate with any degree of certainty what Commander Nero might be planning."
Jim rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered about Spock and the serenity he clung to. He'd been a prisoner on the Enterprise just like everyone else. They were a ragtag crew, allied on the basis of pure necessity. When Jim had appeared through the wormhole he'd been taken aboard, first as a hostage, and then as a comrade. Scotty...well, he was tied to the ship. Literally. When Jim had first seen the way the alien was biologically attached to the ship he'd gaped. But they worked seamlessly together, Scotty and Enterprise. Like now, when they needed it most.
Kirk/McCoy -- Battlestar Galactica
Jim entered the interrogation room and dropped the cylon's file on the table. The sound of impact echoed in the tiny room. Across from him sat whom he'd thought was his best friend. He was wrong.
"Cylon," he said quietly. He couldn't think of him--it--as Bones anymore. Even when it looked at him with those eyes. Reproachful. Its hands were cuffed in front of him, and someone had smacked it around a bit. Its jaw was dislocated, and swollen, and it was sporting a black eye and more than a few bloodstains. Those bastards he thought, but immediately pushed it away. "Admiral Pike has given you a choice. Tell us what you know of the Cylon plot, or get thrown out an airlock."
"Jim," the cylon pleaded. "Jim, it's /me/. You've known me for years--I'm not a cylon. I'm a doctor. If I was a cylon wouldn't I kill people? Not help them?"
It was a question Jim had asked himself. Bones had patched him up more times than he could count. But there was no denying the presence of this other model--Reaper, he called himself. "Cooperate with us and you'll live," Jim reiterated patiently.
The cylon stared back at him, and then something in its gaze changed. "You'd make my daughter an orphan?" it asked quietly.
"Your /daughter/?" Jim laughed. "Are you frakking kidding me? She's been moved with the other orphans."
"Joanna is my daughter, legally," the cylon insisted. "Her mother's dead. I'm all she's got. You let me see her, you guarantee her safety, and you have yourself a deal."
Jim's head tilted to one side and he pursed his lips. Could it be that this machine had tricked itself into feeling? Or was there some other motivation? "Okay," he agreed. "You go first."
The cylon sat back and sighed tiredly. "I mean you no harm," it began. "My part in this is small, Jim, you have to understand. I'm a cog in a machine. A living machine--lots of parts, always moving," the cylon said slowly. "You're a part of it too. We all are. but you...you have a destiny, Jim."
Jim stared back at the cylon, meeting its gaze for a long moment. "...bullshit."
Kirk/McCoy -- CSI: Starfleet
"He's dead, Jim."
"...that's it?" Jim sounded skeptical.
McCoy eyerolled. "What the hell do you want? I'm a doctor, not a forensic scientist. I hate watching CSI: Starfleet."
Jim grinned and nudged McCoy's leg next to his on the couch. "Come on...I indulge you when you watch those damn medical mystery shows."
"Those have professional merit," McCoy replied defensively.
Jim sighed. "C'mon, Bones. How'd he die?"
"Well, judging by the fact that the camera was following around that guy with the phaser...I'm gonna go with electric shock," McCoy replied, dryly.
"You are so no fun," Jim pouted.
Kirk/McCoy -- ER
Watching Bones in a crisis is nothing like Jim thought it would be.
Those hospital shows he'd watched as a kid had made it seem like organized chaos. Precise. Clean. Sure, there was pressure, but you knew the doctor was going to save the guy. Most of the time.
There was too much blood, in real life, Jim thought, stupidly. Too much blood. And green, not red. It added to the surrealness of it, him standing there, helpless, as Spock bled out on the table in gushes of green blood, his organs in the wrong place.
Bones was yelling, cursing people as he and M'benga and Chapel struggled to save Spock, calling for dermal regenerators and cardiac stimulators and hyposprays and eppes, stat. It wasn't anything like the shows, and Jim felt somehow betrayed, and disgusted. Shows were supposed to prepare you for real life. And this...nothing had prepared him for this.
Scotty/TARDIS -- Doctor Who
"It's bigger on the inside!" Scotty says, looking around the inside of the TARDIS with something akin to awe and envy.
"Is it?" The Doctor replied, his accent slipping into a clearly Glaswegian dialect. "Well, I suppose it is, look at that. Now, I don't suppose you'd have any idea on how to fix her transmorphifying circuits?"
Scotty made a derisive noise. "Oh, aye. You've got a screwdriver?"
The Doctor made a noise in response. "Oh, aye. It's, um. A bit sonic, though."
"A sonic screwdriver?" Scotty frowned for a moment, and then he spoke. "Well, that's brilliant, isn't it?"
McCoy/Kirk -- Heroes
Leonard squinted down at the Post-It written in his father's handwriting. Jim Kirk it said. Ability: ?
This was stupid, he told himself. But he owed it to his father to continue his work, no matter what the professional--or personal--consequences. He took a deep breath before knocking on the apartment door.
An attractive man with strangely spiked hair and curiously blue eyes opened the door. The man looked him over and then smiled, his expression open, and friendly, but in a way that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, uh...I'm Dr. McCoy, Dr. Leonard McCoy. I think my father might have contacted you?" he said awkwardly. "I know this may sound strange, but...my father was convinced that you had an ability."
"Oh, right!" Jim's smile was still wary, but he stepped away from the door to let Leonard pass. "Come on in."
Leonard adjusted his messenger bag that contained his medical kit and smiled--or grimaced, it was hard to tell--as he moved past him into the apartment. Jim shut the door behind him and then gestured towards the living room.
"My father never said what your ability was," Leonard said as he sat down on the surprisingly comfortable sofa.
"X-ray vision," Jim replied promptly.
Leonard blinked, and stared into those blue eyes again, searchingly this time. "Really?"
Jim scanned him, his face breaking into a slow grin. "Black with skulls," he said, smugly. "Not what I expected, Dr. McCoy. I figured you for a tighty-whitey kind of guy, but bones. That's...unexpected."
Leonard colored. "So, uh...you can see through objects," he said, trying to keep his tone objective. "How deep can you--"
"You're circumsized," Jim cut him off. And damned if that smug smile hadn't turned into a smirk.
Kirk/McCoy Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
"EWW, oh my god, did you just wash your face with soap?" Jim screeched.
McCoy, who has lathered his face with soap and water every morning since birth, raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, so?"
"That stuff is like, acid for pores. You really ought to consider some moisturizer," Jim added helpfully.
"And why would I want to do that?" McCoy replied, sliding his straight razor across his cheek.
"It decreases the signs of aging," Jim says casually. "Plus it makes your skin feel awesome."
"Yeah, right," McCoy snorted. "I suppose you think I ought to pluck my eyebrows like you do too?"
Jim crosses his arms over his chest. "It's called manscaping, and yeah if you really want to know. Seriously, a little moisturizer, a little manscaping, a little product--"
"Product What the hell is--"
"--you'll look ten years younger," Jim finished.
McCoy glanced at his reflection. Okay, so he looked about twice as old as some of the cadets here despite only being maybe a decade or so older, but he felt like it too.
"...gimmie the damn moisturizer," McCoy grumbled.
Scotty/Enterprise -- Farscape
My name is Jim Kirk. I'm an astronaut. A radiation wave hit and I got shot through a wormhole. Lost in some distant part of the universe on a ship--a living ship--full of strange alien life forms. Help me. Listen, please. Is there anybody out there who can hear me? I'm being hunted by an insane military commander. I'm doing everything I can...I'm just looking for a way home.
"Scotty!" Jim bellowed. "Prepare for immediate Starburst!"
The voice of the ship's pilot, Scotty, chirped through the communicator. "I'm getting Enterprise ready, Jim," The incongruous Scottish brogue always made Jim wonder just what the translator microbes were smoking when they converted Scotty's native language. And then there was the fact that Scotty was an alien merged with the ship, which was alive "She cannae go any faster than what she is now," he added.
"Don't give me that, Scotty. Not now--not when Nero's on our asses," Jim replied and glanced over at Spock. "You know their capabilities better than anyone, Spock. What can we do?"
Spock eyed Jim coolly. "Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry. But the Vulcans turned to peace while the Romulans chose to hone their savagery into a military empire. As such, I cannot anticipate with any degree of certainty what Commander Nero might be planning."
Jim rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered about Spock and the serenity he clung to. He'd been a prisoner on the Enterprise just like everyone else. They were a ragtag crew, allied on the basis of pure necessity. When Jim had appeared through the wormhole he'd been taken aboard, first as a hostage, and then as a comrade. Scotty...well, he was tied to the ship. Literally. When Jim had first seen the way the alien was biologically attached to the ship he'd gaped. But they worked seamlessly together, Scotty and Enterprise. Like now, when they needed it most.
Kirk/McCoy -- Battlestar Galactica
Jim entered the interrogation room and dropped the cylon's file on the table. The sound of impact echoed in the tiny room. Across from him sat whom he'd thought was his best friend. He was wrong.
"Cylon," he said quietly. He couldn't think of him--it--as Bones anymore. Even when it looked at him with those eyes. Reproachful. Its hands were cuffed in front of him, and someone had smacked it around a bit. Its jaw was dislocated, and swollen, and it was sporting a black eye and more than a few bloodstains. Those bastards he thought, but immediately pushed it away. "Admiral Pike has given you a choice. Tell us what you know of the Cylon plot, or get thrown out an airlock."
"Jim," the cylon pleaded. "Jim, it's /me/. You've known me for years--I'm not a cylon. I'm a doctor. If I was a cylon wouldn't I kill people? Not help them?"
It was a question Jim had asked himself. Bones had patched him up more times than he could count. But there was no denying the presence of this other model--Reaper, he called himself. "Cooperate with us and you'll live," Jim reiterated patiently.
The cylon stared back at him, and then something in its gaze changed. "You'd make my daughter an orphan?" it asked quietly.
"Your /daughter/?" Jim laughed. "Are you frakking kidding me? She's been moved with the other orphans."
"Joanna is my daughter, legally," the cylon insisted. "Her mother's dead. I'm all she's got. You let me see her, you guarantee her safety, and you have yourself a deal."
Jim's head tilted to one side and he pursed his lips. Could it be that this machine had tricked itself into feeling? Or was there some other motivation? "Okay," he agreed. "You go first."
The cylon sat back and sighed tiredly. "I mean you no harm," it began. "My part in this is small, Jim, you have to understand. I'm a cog in a machine. A living machine--lots of parts, always moving," the cylon said slowly. "You're a part of it too. We all are. but you...you have a destiny, Jim."
Jim stared back at the cylon, meeting its gaze for a long moment. "...bullshit."
Kirk/McCoy -- CSI: Starfleet
"He's dead, Jim."
"...that's it?" Jim sounded skeptical.
McCoy eyerolled. "What the hell do you want? I'm a doctor, not a forensic scientist. I hate watching CSI: Starfleet."
Jim grinned and nudged McCoy's leg next to his on the couch. "Come on...I indulge you when you watch those damn medical mystery shows."
"Those have professional merit," McCoy replied defensively.
Jim sighed. "C'mon, Bones. How'd he die?"
"Well, judging by the fact that the camera was following around that guy with the phaser...I'm gonna go with electric shock," McCoy replied, dryly.
"You are so no fun," Jim pouted.
Kirk/McCoy -- ER
Watching Bones in a crisis is nothing like Jim thought it would be.
Those hospital shows he'd watched as a kid had made it seem like organized chaos. Precise. Clean. Sure, there was pressure, but you knew the doctor was going to save the guy. Most of the time.
There was too much blood, in real life, Jim thought, stupidly. Too much blood. And green, not red. It added to the surrealness of it, him standing there, helpless, as Spock bled out on the table in gushes of green blood, his organs in the wrong place.
Bones was yelling, cursing people as he and M'benga and Chapel struggled to save Spock, calling for dermal regenerators and cardiac stimulators and hyposprays and eppes, stat. It wasn't anything like the shows, and Jim felt somehow betrayed, and disgusted. Shows were supposed to prepare you for real life. And this...nothing had prepared him for this.
Scotty/TARDIS -- Doctor Who
"It's bigger on the inside!" Scotty says, looking around the inside of the TARDIS with something akin to awe and envy.
"Is it?" The Doctor replied, his accent slipping into a clearly Glaswegian dialect. "Well, I suppose it is, look at that. Now, I don't suppose you'd have any idea on how to fix her transmorphifying circuits?"
Scotty made a derisive noise. "Oh, aye. You've got a screwdriver?"
The Doctor made a noise in response. "Oh, aye. It's, um. A bit sonic, though."
"A sonic screwdriver?" Scotty frowned for a moment, and then he spoke. "Well, that's brilliant, isn't it?"
McCoy/Kirk -- Heroes
Leonard squinted down at the Post-It written in his father's handwriting. Jim Kirk it said. Ability: ?
This was stupid, he told himself. But he owed it to his father to continue his work, no matter what the professional--or personal--consequences. He took a deep breath before knocking on the apartment door.
An attractive man with strangely spiked hair and curiously blue eyes opened the door. The man looked him over and then smiled, his expression open, and friendly, but in a way that didn't quite meet his eyes. "Can I help you?"
"Hi, uh...I'm Dr. McCoy, Dr. Leonard McCoy. I think my father might have contacted you?" he said awkwardly. "I know this may sound strange, but...my father was convinced that you had an ability."
"Oh, right!" Jim's smile was still wary, but he stepped away from the door to let Leonard pass. "Come on in."
Leonard adjusted his messenger bag that contained his medical kit and smiled--or grimaced, it was hard to tell--as he moved past him into the apartment. Jim shut the door behind him and then gestured towards the living room.
"My father never said what your ability was," Leonard said as he sat down on the surprisingly comfortable sofa.
"X-ray vision," Jim replied promptly.
Leonard blinked, and stared into those blue eyes again, searchingly this time. "Really?"
Jim scanned him, his face breaking into a slow grin. "Black with skulls," he said, smugly. "Not what I expected, Dr. McCoy. I figured you for a tighty-whitey kind of guy, but bones. That's...unexpected."
Leonard colored. "So, uh...you can see through objects," he said, trying to keep his tone objective. "How deep can you--"
"You're circumsized," Jim cut him off. And damned if that smug smile hadn't turned into a smirk.
Kirk/McCoy Queer Eye for the Straight Guy
"EWW, oh my god, did you just wash your face with soap?" Jim screeched.
McCoy, who has lathered his face with soap and water every morning since birth, raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, so?"
"That stuff is like, acid for pores. You really ought to consider some moisturizer," Jim added helpfully.
"And why would I want to do that?" McCoy replied, sliding his straight razor across his cheek.
"It decreases the signs of aging," Jim says casually. "Plus it makes your skin feel awesome."
"Yeah, right," McCoy snorted. "I suppose you think I ought to pluck my eyebrows like you do too?"
Jim crosses his arms over his chest. "It's called manscaping, and yeah if you really want to know. Seriously, a little moisturizer, a little manscaping, a little product--"
"Product What the hell is--"
"--you'll look ten years younger," Jim finished.
McCoy glanced at his reflection. Okay, so he looked about twice as old as some of the cadets here despite only being maybe a decade or so older, but he felt like it too.
"...gimmie the damn moisturizer," McCoy grumbled.