Take Your Medicine
Fandom: Star Trek TOS (Mirror Universe)
Pairing/Characters: McCoy, OC. Gen.
Rating: PG
Summary: McCoy has some fun with a patient.
Words: ~350
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "The Difference Between Medicine and Poison is in the Dose"
Jack comes awake with a start to see Doctor McCoy sitting in a chair next to his bed, watching him intently. In one hand is a small glass bottle, in the other, a syringe.
"Oh, good," McCoy says. "You're awake." He gives Jack a cold smile. "I'd hate for you to miss all the fun."
Jack tries to move, but his limbs feel like lead. All he can do is watch as the doctor rises from his seat and comes closer. "Don't try to move," he says. "You're far too weak for that." McCoy stares down at him, and Jack feels his heart speed up. "You're a very ill man, Mister Benson," McCoy tells him. "Unlikely to even survive the night without treatment."
He holds up the bottle, filled with a blue liquid. "Fortunately, I have the cure right here," he says. "A few shots of this, and you'll be right as rain."
Jack coughs and manages to whisper, "So are you going to give it to me?"
McCoy taps the butt of the syringe against his chin thoughtfully. "Well," he says. "There's the rub. Normally, I would, but a little bird told me that you were the one behind the failed plan to assassinate the captain last week." He glares at Jack and adds, "As it happens, the captain and I have an understanding, and his death would interfere with that. So you can see why I might not be all that motivated to help you."
"So you're going to let me die?" Jack asks, his heart now pounding in his chest.
McCoy's smile grows, his eyes cruel. "No," he says. "We're going to play a little game." He holds up the bottle again, swishing the contents from side to side. "Did anyone ever tell you the only difference between medicine and poison is in the dose?" he asks. "See, the funny thing about this cure is it needs to be administered in very specific amounts. Too little, you die. Too much, you die."
Calmly, he stabs the needle into the bottle and begins to fill the syringe. "Say when."
Pairing/Characters: McCoy, OC. Gen.
Rating: PG
Summary: McCoy has some fun with a patient.
Words: ~350
Notes: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "The Difference Between Medicine and Poison is in the Dose"
Jack comes awake with a start to see Doctor McCoy sitting in a chair next to his bed, watching him intently. In one hand is a small glass bottle, in the other, a syringe.
"Oh, good," McCoy says. "You're awake." He gives Jack a cold smile. "I'd hate for you to miss all the fun."
Jack tries to move, but his limbs feel like lead. All he can do is watch as the doctor rises from his seat and comes closer. "Don't try to move," he says. "You're far too weak for that." McCoy stares down at him, and Jack feels his heart speed up. "You're a very ill man, Mister Benson," McCoy tells him. "Unlikely to even survive the night without treatment."
He holds up the bottle, filled with a blue liquid. "Fortunately, I have the cure right here," he says. "A few shots of this, and you'll be right as rain."
Jack coughs and manages to whisper, "So are you going to give it to me?"
McCoy taps the butt of the syringe against his chin thoughtfully. "Well," he says. "There's the rub. Normally, I would, but a little bird told me that you were the one behind the failed plan to assassinate the captain last week." He glares at Jack and adds, "As it happens, the captain and I have an understanding, and his death would interfere with that. So you can see why I might not be all that motivated to help you."
"So you're going to let me die?" Jack asks, his heart now pounding in his chest.
McCoy's smile grows, his eyes cruel. "No," he says. "We're going to play a little game." He holds up the bottle again, swishing the contents from side to side. "Did anyone ever tell you the only difference between medicine and poison is in the dose?" he asks. "See, the funny thing about this cure is it needs to be administered in very specific amounts. Too little, you die. Too much, you die."
Calmly, he stabs the needle into the bottle and begins to fill the syringe. "Say when."