Picking Up StraysBy:
Polgara (firstname.lastname@example.org) Rating:
I own none of these characters. They belong to their respective creators and distributers. Summary:
It seemed that emergency rooms were the same no matter what century you were in. The same old antiseptic smell and white walls with a bunch of stuff laying around that you didn't even want to know the purpose of.
Buffy didn't hold back her bored sigh as she looked around the examination room. It seemed that emergency rooms were the same no matter what century you were in. The same old antiseptic smell and white walls with a bunch of stuff laying around that you didn't even want to know the purpose of.
It wasn't as if she was even injured enough to warrant a visit to the ER, but her self-defense instructor had insisted. Her indignant snort she kept to herself. Like she really needed that class, but since it was a requirement for all security track cadets she toed the line while trying not to look too bored. Although, she had learned some nifty tricks from some of the alien species she had class with so it wasn't a total waste of her time.
Unlike the asshat who had helped land her in the ER today.
She tensed as the curtain pulled back but relaxed when she recognized the revealed figure. As much as she hated to admit it, she had been in the ER quite a bit because of her classmates over the last year. If this had been Sunnydale back in her time, she wouldn't have even bothered and just let her wounds heal on their own. However, this century had some neato gadgets that sped even her superhuman healing right along and no one questioned her lack of bruising as long as she could provide valid proof she had seen a doctor.
“Hi, doc,” she said with a rueful grin on her face. Of all of the doctors she had the so called pleasure of seeing, this one was her favorite. He never beat around the bush and told her the flat out, honest to goodness truth. His words, not hers.
He gave her a look of flat out disappointment. “Cadet Summers, thought I told you to be more careful the last time I saw you.”
“I have been!” She declared. “I haven't been in to see you in a whole month.”
He rolled his eyes and then fixed her with a glare that she most certainly did not shrink back from. “Only because you came in two times while I wasn't on shift.”
Buffy's lips formed a small pout which caused him to snort. “Not my fault the boys don't know when they've been licked. I promise, the other guy looks worse.”
“I know,” he said with a shake of his head as he finally moved towards the bed. “I just finished examining him. You realize he'll be sidelined from class for at least a week because of this.”
Hazel eyes narrowed. “Then he should have stopped when the instructor told him to back down. I was only defending myself.”
Something softened around the corner of his eyes, “I know that, too.” He reached out and gently touched her face. With careful, practiced movements he examined the contusions and abrasions that marred her skin.
It was something about him that she truly appreciated over the others. He never left his diagnosis up to the computers around him, but always took a hands on approach. Despite his gruff voice constantly chastising her lack of caution, his touch was never anything but gentle.
“You'll live,” he said after a few moments before reaching for the dermal regenerator.
The blonde watched as the line between his brow appeared as he concentrated on his work. She held herself still after having learned the hard way that fidgeting only led to more lectures and longer healing time. Her skin tingled as the regenerator worked its magic and knitted skin back together.
When he finished, he carefully put the regenerator away and then did something entirely new. He pulled a stool over to the exam bed and sat down. Buffy fought the urge to fidget as he gave her a worried look.
“Now, I don't want you to think I'm prying,” he said slowly, his southern drawl becoming a little more pronounced. “But I wouldn't be doing my proper job as a both a doctor and as a doctor in Starfleet if I didn't ask. Are there... Is anyone...” A frown pulled at his features as he grasped for the words. “Do we need to file a report on anyone?”
She stared at him in amazement. “Are you kidding me? You think I'm being pushed around?”
“You have to admit, Summers. You spend more time in the ER than anyone else in your track. It does tend to suggest that there might be some problems.”
“I don't always end up in here because of asshats who don't know when they've lost the fight while we're sparring. Most of the time I'm in here because of the drunk asshats who don't know how to take no for an answer. And it's not me who is saying the no's, it's the poor girls who don't know how to defend themselves!” She answered hotly.
He held up his hands in surrender. “I figured as much, but I needed to put down on record that I had asked so that maybe some of the other doctors won't ask.”
Buffy felt her ire deflate. “Oh, well.. then... ok.” She looked nervously around the room. “Can I go now?”
“One more thing,” he said. He snatched her PADD off her bed and navigated through the applications she had stored on it before entering some information. “This is my dorm room number and how to reach me. Use this for the nights you're playing hero to keep your ER visits to a minimum and off the academy's record.”
She felt her jaw drop as he handed it back to her. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” he replied, standing up and placing the stool back in it's original place. “Just please try to take care of yourself.”
“Ok,” she said softly, looking back down at the screen and the information glowing up at her.
She didn't look up as she heard him muttering as he left, “Gotta stop picking up strays.”
Dr. Leonard McCoy. Huh. She had never pegged him as a Leonard.