tushanshu_logs | OPEN ★

Characters: Ms. Leonard McCoy

asouthron and you!
Date: During the Swap Event
Location: Dr. Natu's clinic
Situation: Come woe, wallow and panic with an equally panicky woman!McCoy
Warnings/Rating: Swearing and alcoholism I'm sure

Action and prose are both welcome!

The day had such potential--And maybe that's his problem. He has grown complacent in this place as if it's an ordinary life. And maybe it's starting to look like that, but, no, not his life. Not knowing Jim. McCoy should have prepared harder for the inevitable crazy that always hits them.

And it certainly hit the doctor with a giant voodoo stick. It doesn't take long after he wakes up to realize something's definitely wrong. He has breasts and his voice has changed. Great. Just fucking great. So, the first thing he does is call--Well, yell at is a better term--Jim on his communicator before hightailing it to the clinic. On a bright note, he doesn't have to shave this morning.

The clinic is, of course, packed with people freaking out, and nothing McCoy can do about it, goddamnit! So, he takes samples from everyone and tries to find a link outside of "Oops, magic happened!" with dark age technology.

"God help me," he grunts melodramatically onto his desk, the very definition of petulance and impotence.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Well this had been... something. Chekov was used to weird, but this was a pretty different kind of weird. There was a little panic, pinching himself a few times to make sure this wasn't a dream, and then resignation. He saw that the network had lit up with people complaining of changes.

When he saw Dr. McCoy as a woman, it was somehow more shocking than waking up as a woman himself. Once the shock (sort of) wore off, Chekov decided the clinic was his first stop. Until his clothes fit horribly to the point of being uncomfortable. Then the market was his first stop, then a bakery (he still needed to eat) and then the clinic.

Which is why, about an hour and a half later, a woman in a simple sundress (hey, it was convenient) and sandals (again, convenient) is walking over to Doctor McCoy's desk, holding out a savory breakfast bun like a peace offering.

"I think this is the definition of 'chaos.'"

Well Chekov's accent survived the transformation, at least.

Edited 2013-09-24 18:58 (UTC)

"One of 'em anyway," McCoy mumbles without even looking up, too focused on finishing writing out a sentence--God he is actually reduced to scrawling in this goddamn world! How unbelievable!--to actually look up.

Once he does, though, his hazel eyes hit the girl's face, then her pretty dress, and right back up to her face again. That trademark eyebrow raises up into the soft curls of his long hair after a moment. "Nice dress, Ensign," he deadpans before finally resting his pencil on his desk. "Glad to see I'm not the only boy with female troubles..."

Chekov isn't even bothered. He simply shrugs.

"I had trouble with my clothes, and this was the easiest solution."

He winces slightly.

"It seems a lot of people are having trouble, some more serious than others. I am just glad I'm still in my own body, even if it has changed."

McCoy grunts at that and simply ignores the fact that he stubbornly put on his Starfleet uniform despite them not fitting at all. His bust brings the tunic up above his undershirt and wist line. And don't even get him started about how long it took him to cram his hips and ass into his pants. He will have to do something about it, but for now he's just trying to do his damn job.

"Yeah, tell me about it. One of my nurses--The poor woman. She got her body swapped with a man she barely knows. Can you imagine?" The doctor shudders at the very idea of being in another person's body. The violation of it all is just sickening.

"Anyway..." Getting up from his desk, he motions for Chekov to follow him further into the clinic. "The sooner we get started, the sooner you'll be done." He leads them both to a private room in the back and closes the door behind them. "Take a seat," McCoy grumps as he opens up his medical kit.

Chekov notices. He'll definitely have to help the good doctor find some new clothes; that looks incredibly uncomfortable.

"That's terrible!" He looks a little disgusted by it. This 'spell' is definitely not something to laugh at.

He follows McCoy, looking around at the other patients as he does. They were all in varying states of distress. The sooner they solve this, the better. And if all McCoy needed from him were a few samples, he doesn't mind helping out.

Chekov hops onto the examination table, the picture of a perfect patient.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"You'll have to excuse some of these methods. The facilities around here don't exactly allow for modern techniques." And a tricorder can only do so much until a doctor needs to just get in there and poke and prod. Really, there is no reason to forewarn Chekov. McCoy is his primary doctor and what he says goes regardless of the situation--Not that the boy would cause any kind of fuss because of it. Hell, he wishes all his patients were as easy-going as the Ensign. Still, a doctor has his pride, and being unable to perform his duties at his best grates on his confidence.

He checks Chekov's involuntary reflexes first, has him open his mouth, and check his pulse before he actually takes out both his tricorders. "Gotta say, I'm glad I had yer base recordings before this fiasco happened. Most of the patients I've tested and cataloged can't give me baseline stats before this, obviously. Makes tryin' to find discrepancies damn difficult."

"As long as it doesn't involve leeches, I think I can handle it." A joke. Not that McCoy does jokes but hey. "By the way, did you arrive with a PADD? I have been working with the technology here and I have a few prototypes. Not very good, but useable."

Chekov's reflexes and baseline readings are perfectly normal. He takes the examination with grace.

"But you are going to compare our readings-- those affected, I mean-- and find a common thread, yes?"

"A PADD?" Did you say a PADD?! McCoy would kill for one of those. Well, maybe not kill... Possibly maim, though. "You made a PADD? From the junk here? Well, God bless you, kid." having to take all of his notes with paper and ink is just savage. That ink gets everywhere, and even with a pencil, you're still covered in charcoal by the end of it!

"You'll hafta show me one of 'em sometime." Until then, he will just have to go about everything the old fashioned way. At least he has his medical tricorder. He would be curled up in a corner crying without it. With it in hand, he runs the small screen across Chekov, calculating pulse, blood pressure, brain activity, and other metabolic functions you can't see with a goddamn flashlight.

"That's the plan." And that's all he's going to say about it. So far, he has found nothing, and mainly because his pool of unaffected is too small to make any kind of hypothesis. That and he just doesn't have the technology to do anything remotely helpful in his research. "Okay, all normal," he declares, not surprised. It's just like everyone else. Nothing unusual about anyone, except for physically. Magic is so goddamn annoying. "We'll take a blood sample, and be done with it."

"I had to take apart a lot of the technology here and piece it together. I have a few: you can pick one that you like best."

It'd been a way to pass the time. The technology here is so far behind their era that he could at least try to make it a little more convenient. Even if it took disassembling half a dozen different electronics and spending days figuring out how to put them together to make something workable.

And then there was the software. That'd taken awhile. But it was a challenge and took a lot of creative thinking.

"That's good. I was unsure about my condition." Chekov winces slightly. He doesn't hate needles but he's not sure what the needles are like here. Still, he holds out his arm.

"Okay."

Thankfully for Chekov, McCoy hasn't had to resort to things like hypodermic needles just yet. After this fiasco, however, that will probably change, but until then they will make do with real modern medicine.

He pulls out a thin empty vial with a similar construction of a hypospray. The only difference is the process to pull the blood without leaving more than a tiny prick. It's quick and easy once McCoy finds a good vein, releasing the mechanism to pull the blood. He takes more than the usual volume since the Ensign's the only one with the best data to use.

"Alright, that's it. All done." He seals the vial of blood with a piece of tape and puts it back in his kit for now. "Wish I had more to offer, but right now it's just a waitin' game."

He's relieved when he sees equipment similar to the equipment back home. His understanding of the 21st century and earlier is pretty sketchy. For all he knew, he wasn't too far off about the leeches.

"It's okay. I did not expect answers so early in the... process."

Throwing around words like 'epidemic' might be a little alarming. Mostly to himself.

OPEN ★

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject