[USS Tempest] "Kinship" PK Tomilson & Byron Matthews
- From: CmdrSkyler@xxxxxxx
- To: usstempest@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Mon, 23 May 2005 23:08:11 EDT
"Kinship"
PK Tomilson & Byron Matthews
Byron drew his feet up under him as he tried to relax, his breath slowing and
mind clearing.
"Aaaaaaaaand," sang out the speaker system in his quarters, "always look on
the bright side of life!"
Byron grimaced. Hitting the comm-link activation button, he constructed his
most charming smile. "Ah, Doctor Vauxall, how can I help you today?"
"You look stressed, Byron, have you not been sleeping?" Concern etched itself
across the older Counsellor's face.
"Not overly well," Byron said, shrugging. "It's the constant dripping from
the shower that's doing it."
"You met with Lieutenant McKay again."
"Ah yes, how did I know that this would be about Five?" Steepling his
fingers, Byron leaned forward. "And what, pray tell, has my chance encounter
with
the Science Officer got to do with you."
"Don't play the fool with me, Byron. I've known you far too long." The grey
eyes of the man glinted. "You know very well that you were not to have any
contact with the Lieutenant again and yet there you were, in public, dancing
with the woman."
With a sigh, Byron's finger drifted over to the off button. "I'm sorry that
you feel this way, Matthew. She is my friend and we will always have at least
that level of contact. Good-bye."
Before the old fool could respond, he'd clicked off the link. Resting his
head on his arms, Byron pushed out an exasperated breath. There was no way he
was going to get any rest now. "No relaxation for you, Doctor Matthews." He
shoved to his feet and stomped out. Maybe a little alcohol and some pleasant
company would do the trick.
The Main Lounge was mostly empty when he finally found it. A Ph.D. in
Exopsychology but the sense of direction of a demented flee, he glowered. One
table
was occupied so he headed over. After ordering a small G and T, he smiled at
the woman.
"May I join you?"
The lounge had been the only place that had any semblance of peace and quiet,
something that was definitely lacking in sickbay. PK had gone there in hopes
of finding a quiet relaxing place to unwind and figure out how to work in a
place that at the moment was totally unworkable.
She found a table near the large window that allowed one to look out into
space and wonder what or where they were headed each time the wormhole opened.
She couldn't get enough of the majesty of the wormhole, she could stare at it
for hours and find something different each time. As she was watching it,
sipping on her Long Island Ice Tea, she heard a voice she had never heard
before. The voice had a pleasant quality to it. Looking up she saw a man she
had
never seen before.
"Uh, sure, have a seat. It's not occupied at the moment and I don't see
anyone's name on it. I don't believe we have had the pleasure of meeting yet. I
am PK Tomilson. Ship's Doctor or everyone's worst nightmare."
He seemed pleasant enough and was nice on the eyes. She wondered who this
mystery man was.
"Ah, so you're Doc Sawbones," Byron grinned. "I saw your calling card above
your door as I went past. My name's Byron Matthews, I'll be your friendly
neighborhood psych-specialist. All nutcases welcome." His broad smile warmed
as he sank down into the comfy chair. "Ah, wormhole-watching. It's a
marvelous pastime, don't you think?"
"That would be me, good 'Ole Doc Sawbone's." PK couldn't help but laugh at
this man's sense of humor. "All nut-case's welcome, huh? Do you give courtesy
discounts?"
Taking a sip of her drink PK looked at the wormhole, "I can never get enough
of the wormhole, for some reason it seems to call me. You aren't going to try
and analyze me now are you? Byron Matthew's, is that your office down the
hall from mine?" PK could tell that she was going to get along with this psych
guy. Apparently they had the same sense of humor or lack thereof depending on
how you look at it.
"Yeppers, that's the one. And no, I only psycho-analyse during working
hours." He sipped his drink, his eyes fogging over as he stared into
infinity.
"I have a special hat for when I'm being all counsellor-ie, it's got bells
on, with bright felt and a happy face."
Having just taken a sip of her drink, PK just about spit it out all over the
place at the mention of Byron's special hat. "You don't really have a hat
like that do you? Because if you do then I am going to have to get out my
hat."
She smiled at Byron and noticed he was staring into space.
She reached over and tapped him on the head, "Knock Knock, anyone home or is
the company that boring?"
The knock on his head focussed his eyes on his companion. "My dear lady, I
am so very sorry. It's not the company, I can assure you. My mind is
elsewhere, lost in the eternity of space. It's cold out there," he said in a
faraway voice. Shaking himself, he grinned again. "And yes, I most certainly
do
have a hat like that. I also have a birdie pen for my patients to sign their
souls away with."
"You sound like you could use a friend to talk to kind sir. Space may be cold
but it's not so cold in here. I may not be a psycho whatchamacallit, but I
do have a good ear, at least it is good enough to hold my stethoscope. Would
you like to talk or could I buy you a drink and stare at the wormhole with you
for a while?"
Staring down at his woefully empty glass, Byron pouted. "No, the lady will
have to accept a drink from the gentleman. But as to the offer of wormhole
watching?" He sighed. "I think that would be most appreciated." Smiling
warmly at her, Byron reached over to give her hand a small squeeze. "Thank
you,
PK. I really needed this."
The two strange crazy yet similar doctor's sat together thinking of nothing,
and yet thinking of everything, staring into the void of space, watching the
spectacular colors of the wormhole and wondering what lay beyond for each of
them. Even though they had just met they had developed some sort of kinship.
Was it a kinship of zaniness, wormhole watching or just plain friendship?
Whatever it was, it was nice.
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