Dusty Backroads - [Lower Decks Engineering, Riviera, Open]
He'd spent most of the night and into the wee hours manufacturing tools to work on a Buick Riviera, and had been fairly well tired by the time he'd gotten the serpentine belt tightened up properly. He didn't know the car front to back or anything, but mechanics were still mechanics. And some jobs took two sets of hands, including that; he'd still managed to make due with just one set. His own.
He had sat with the car for a little while after that, and then finally went back to his quarters on Deck 9, caught a nap, then woke up again to recreate his Cadet dress uniform for his own universe. He figured it was a uniform he'd earned the right to wear, and so he had.
Now, after that meeting, and after he changed back into his regular duty clothes, Scotty went back to the Riviera.
The problem with never having had a home was that it made it very hard to find someplace to retreat in safety; someplace quiet, someplace where you could let your guard down and trust that you wouldn't be hurt for the effort. He felt further from that simple ideal than he had even on Risa, and it hurt rather more than he expected. Especially when he was surrounded by any number of happy people, good people who he knew he should trust, and couldn't.
It was very little wonder that Montgomery Scott had spent most of his life in the company of machines; he had nothing to fear from them.
Therefore, it was little surprise as well that he found his way back to the anachronistic Buick Riviera, which was trapped aboard a ship it didn't fit on, surrounded by people who probably couldn't understand it, in a universe that didn't really have any place for it. He had a shift in the galley in the morning, which would give him something to distract him from this feeling, and a half-shift as a technician.
He crawled into the driver's seat, closed the door, wrapped his arms around the steering wheel and pressed his forehead to it with his eyes closed tight.
For now, a guy with a car and no road to drive.
He had sat with the car for a little while after that, and then finally went back to his quarters on Deck 9, caught a nap, then woke up again to recreate his Cadet dress uniform for his own universe. He figured it was a uniform he'd earned the right to wear, and so he had.
Now, after that meeting, and after he changed back into his regular duty clothes, Scotty went back to the Riviera.
The problem with never having had a home was that it made it very hard to find someplace to retreat in safety; someplace quiet, someplace where you could let your guard down and trust that you wouldn't be hurt for the effort. He felt further from that simple ideal than he had even on Risa, and it hurt rather more than he expected. Especially when he was surrounded by any number of happy people, good people who he knew he should trust, and couldn't.
It was very little wonder that Montgomery Scott had spent most of his life in the company of machines; he had nothing to fear from them.
Therefore, it was little surprise as well that he found his way back to the anachronistic Buick Riviera, which was trapped aboard a ship it didn't fit on, surrounded by people who probably couldn't understand it, in a universe that didn't really have any place for it. He had a shift in the galley in the morning, which would give him something to distract him from this feeling, and a half-shift as a technician.
He crawled into the driver's seat, closed the door, wrapped his arms around the steering wheel and pressed his forehead to it with his eyes closed tight.
For now, a guy with a car and no road to drive.