astromed
they’ve all lost some. lost a lot. lost most, when he thinks about it. hundreds of crew, gone into the blackness where there’s no air for their lungs, no sun for their souls, no moon to guide them home. nothing. pitch black, never-ending, no floor for their feet to rest. there used to be a time where his chest would tighten at the thought — it still does, some days, when all else fails and the only good on the horizon is the bottle of whiskey in his room, the soft pillow on his bed — and he thinks, now, that he was right. he was right all along to be afraid of space and what it holds, and what it doesn’t. there is no hope in the darkness, and space is, inevitably, nothing but dark.
‘regular checks,’ he mutters, half to himself, half to sulu. ‘gonna need to monitor your vitals. m’not too worried, mind — just .. a formality. help us both sleep better at night.’
He sees the effects on McCoy as well. They are all scarred, though fortunately it is mostly emotionally. The knot in his stomach comes not from the terrifying machine that had him almost killed, it comes from knowing what they lost and what they are still to lose. But this is what the job demands. He always knew it would not be easy. Yet he could have never imagined this. « Yeah, yeah of course. » A moment of silence; he sits on the bench with knit brows, watching the doctor with calm eyes, hands folded in his lap. The usually inaudible humming of machines fills the room. « How are you holding up, doc? » Sulu asks at last, hoping genuine concern will not cross an invisible line he does not see. It is not a careful question, but it goes beyond professional curiousity. They are a team on this ship after all. McCoy is always making sure they are all well, Sulu fears he might neglect his health too much.
