℞ pretty good for the body
Player Information
Name/Nickname: Rem
Livejournal Username: rem_sama
AIM/MSN/Yahoo: AIM; Remdatenshi
Timezone: CST
Current Characters: Axel [firebranded]; Riku [dawnward]
Character Information
Name: Leonard H. McCoy
Fandom: Star Trek: ToS; shortly following episode 3x24.
Age: 43
Gender: Male
OU, AU, or RU: Original
Assignment: IACC-Demeter
Appearance: ℞ ℞
History: Comprehensive history found here.
Personality: Human. Asked what kind of person he is, McCoy would tell you that he was human down to his last atom. Emotional, illogical, arrogant, sarcastic, stubborn, and a jackass when he feels like it, he wouldn't seem all that out of place sitting on a porch yelling at those damn kids to get off his lawn. A connoisseur of pigheaded arguments, a master of heated debate (that sounds like arguments), and a devil's advocate of the highest degree, McCoy is the man that will speak up, speak honest, and speak even if you don't want him to. Nothin' wrong with scathing honesty, he'd say, especially when he's right.
But beneath that craggy exterior is...well, another craggy exterior. McCoy is gruff by nature and by habit both; old-fashioned and set in his ways, he has very firm opinions about a lot of things and doesn't like to change them, or be told that he should change them. This can and does make for a combative and rocky nature, but for his kind of calling - don't ever tell him that it's his "work" - that isn't really a bad thing.
McCoy is a doctor. Wherever he goes, whatever happens around him, and whoever it is that he's currently dealing with, he is a doctor first, second, and third, with everything else coming after that (if at all). In his own way, through unrepentant bluntness, shameless scolding, and substantial, even extraordinary, medical genius, McCoy cares for and preserves the life (all life, whether he knows how to lay cement or not) to the best of his considerable ability. He values life and the struggle for life and adheres to his Oath with solemn, serious, and very often personal loyalty. At the same time, he acknowledges and understands death, for all that he works to slow it down; he will neither deny nor downplay it where it is present.
McCoy's harsh frankness can make him appear crusty beyond all redemption, nothing but a sour crabapple right down to his core. And he'd claim it to be such if you asked. But he is a man of great morals and believes very strongly in doing what is right over what is best. You'd never hear it out of his own mouth, but he is deeply compassionate, full of very powerful feelings for the people around him and the people in his charge, whether or not those individuals are necessarily happy with him haranguing them to take better care of themselves. Once he takes it upon himself to look after you, you had best just resign yourself to the inevitable, as he isn't the type to ever leave someone who needs him.
Besides, being an excellent psychologist in addition to a doctor, he knows what's best for you, anyway. At least he'll be gentlemanly about it and he knows how to be kind to those that deserve it and need it.
Think or say what you want to about Leonard McCoy, but he's a good man and anyone that really knows him will tell you so.
Strengths: The biggest point in his favor is that he's good with his hands. Quick, controlled, and confident, McCoy's hands are sure in pretty much any kind of situation. And, should it become necessary, he can use his medical knowledge for the opposite of its intended purpose. He does know how to put a person in the hospital, however much he tries to avoid resorting to that if he can (this won't stop him from threatening it, however).
But never let it be said that he won't use creative, sneaky, underhanded, entirely human methods to get out of or survive life and death situations should it become necessary.
Weaknesses: McCoy's a doctor.
Not a fighter. He knows the basic hand-to-hand necessary to defend himself and can handle various types of Starfleet weaponry, but all his physical and mental abilities are geared toward healing, not hurting. This can and has made him a target, though to look at that craggy, uncompromising expression and rocksteady stance, you'd never believe it.
Bullheaded stubbornness aside, he's a normal, everyday human, and has all the weaknesses and vulnerabilities that go along with that.
Sample: A theoretically infinite number of alternate universes and timelines, wherein the differences between them could be as simple as rain on one day instead of another or as monstrously complex as galaxies inhabited by anthromorphic vegetables, and Leonard H. McCoy had still somehow managed to get marooned in one that used transporters. What were the odds?
With a touch of amusement and a sharp stab of old-fashioned homesickness, McCoy supposed that if Spock were here he would tell him that the odds were incalculable due to the inherent impossibility of actually measuring infinity. McCoy would counter with a jab at the inherent impossibility of Spock recognizing a rhetorical question. There would no doubt be some kind of comeback, because that pointy-eared computer was secretly the biggest sore loser in the quadrant. Then Jim would smile that boyish smile and drawl that if they'd wanted to be theorists they'd gotten into the wrong line of work.
On a purely clinical level, McCoy was aware that playing out whole conversations between several people in his head was a sign of emotional and mental strain, just for starters. If he were anyone but himself, he'd forcibly assign some off-duty time and relaxants to help with the sleep deprivation. But circumstances being what they were, he thoroughly ignored his own sound medical advice and went about running this fleet's sorry excuse for a medical ship. Which meant dealing with their transporters, because somewhere along the development of this dimension's civilizations it hadn't occurred to a single engineer that a sick bay on each ship would make a heck of a lot more sense than one big one on one ship.
Of course, Spock would point out that the Federation had such vessels and their effective use could be-no. He wasn't going to start that again.
Might as well just lie down on an uncomfortable couch and tell me about my problems.
He had problems aplenty, and most of them more serious and troubling than talking to himself. Of all the fixes he and various other troublemaking members of the Enterprise crew had gotten into, this one had to be the most personally grave while at the same time the most inconsequential to his own universe. McCoy was only just realizing that up until now the lot of them had been experiencing the equivalent of winning the time and space lottery when it came to destinations. How was it that it was always Earth? Why an alternate Enterprise where everyone had sashes just like great gran used to wear and Spock had somehow gotten into his head that he needed to look more like a goblin? As opposed to, say, sentient broccoli that sang folk songs to communicate? Time and again, they were in just the right place that was just the right amount of familiar at more or less just the right time to fix what needed fixing.
How about them odds, Spock?
It was almost enough to make an old cynic into a believer, except that his current predicament didn't fit the mold at all. This "Alliance" was similar to the Federation, to be sure-the transporters, uppity female computers, and banal bureaucracy could attest to that-but the history and culture weren't the same. McCoy was very familiar with alternate timelines, but they had always contained the same key players. Humans and Earth. Vulcans and Vulcan. Klingons and Qo'nos. Romulans and Romulus. However the timeline may have been altered, the same races and planets existed. And while the majority of this dimension was put together the same way-he was by no means a stellar cartographer, but his free hours over charts and diagrams had shown the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxy to be made up of the same stuff as back home-key worlds were missing. About the only remaining piece of the puzzle was Earth.
Even that piece didn't fit quite right.
McCoy didn't need Spock or Jim around to come to the same sobering conclusion: he had strayed much farther than the Enterprise was capable of following. He knew they'd do everything in their power and beyond to find him; in the more private parts of his memory he felt again the pain and suffocating confusion, the acrid stink of pollutants tainting the air, and a woman's face as the only island of calm in a sea of chaos and tangled emotions.
They'd crossed impossible distances once before and he didn't doubt that they were doing their damnedest to find him right now, neglecting themselves and their duties. But this time they didn't have the Guardian to tell them where he'd gone and if this Admiral Ganymede was to be believed, he hadn't left so much as a stray proton behind for them to use to look for him.
"You said you couldn't measure infinity, Spock." McCoy paused outside the transporter room doors, his expression made more grim by the deep lines from his frown. "Don't waste your life trying to. And don't you encourage him, Jim, or I'll have you both relieved of duty."