Red Means Dead

maybe...maybe...maybe...

I'm not certain where McCoy is but I've taken a quick shower and am drying my hair as I wait for him. I assumed he would be swinging by after shift but perhaps I misunderstood his comment earlier.

My communicator near my bed chirps and I wonder if it is him, letting me know something happened in Sickbay that he had to address.

"This is Lieutenant Walker."

"It's the Captain. Come to my ready room immediately."

"Uh-" I sputter briefly. "Of course, Captain. I'll be right there."

I scurry to the lav and nearly skewer my towel on its hook from nerves when I hang it up. My hands are so jittery that when I go to pick up my undershirt, I can't get enough strength in my fingers to grasp the thin material and I shake my hands violently to get the blood back into the tips.

He must have discovered the truth about McCoy and me and is summoning me to deliver an official reprimand. Maybe that's why McCoy didn't come see me after shift. Maybe he's receiving his reprimand now. Maybe they'll relieve me of duty for inappropriate fraternization. Maybe...maybe.. maybe....

I shake my head with my hands to pull me from my death-spiral of doubt and finally grasp the hem of the shirt, pulling it open and jamming it down over my head. I miss the opening twice before snaking my arm into a sleeve while reaching for my leggings with my other hand, nearly choking myself from the tension of the garment around my throat. Taking a breath, I order myself to calm down and try to shove my other arm into its sleeve, faltering slightly as the leggings I'm clutching bunch then pop through the hole. In my haste, I'm not certain if I get my leggings or boots on first but a quick glance shows that I'm relatively put together in order.

Grabbing onto the edge of the sink, I look in the mirror and order myself to calm down. "There could be a number of reasons why the Captain wants to see you...all of which more ludicrous than the last." I drop my head, clumps of wet hair brushing the edge of the metal sink then look back up. "You got this, girlie. You're going to pull yourself together. You're going to see what the Captain wants and you're going to take your lumps, whatever they may be." I nod once and pivot on my heel, making it just to my door before turning back to my closet. "But first you're going to finish getting dressed."

***

I just remember to pull the zipper at my shoulder as I arrive at the door to the Captain's ready room, holding my breath one last time to steady my nerves.

The door is already open so I pointedly walk in, acting like nothing is wrong and this is something I do every day but when I see the Captain, Commander Spock, Mr. Scott, and McCoy, who is standing off to the side not looking my way, a cold sweat breaks out along my spine.

For his part, McCoy is stoic, giving Mr. Spock a run for his Vulcan money but finally he looks at me and it offers some reassurance as I face the other men. Perhaps his reprimand will come later. Perhaps he's already had his but as Chief Medical Officer, can't very well be demoted. For engineers, well, you can't shoot a phaser without hitting a redshirt.

The worst would be if they told me I couldn't fraternize with McCoy anymore. I'd weather one hundred court martials and a dishonorable discharge from Starfleet as punishment if it meant I could stay with him.

"I am a stupid frog," I mutter, just as Captain Kirk notices my presence, much to my chagrin. My heels pop together in attention and I stare distantly over his shoulder, boring a hole into the far wall.

"Lieutenant, I'm a little surprised to discover this predicament, I must say."

Predicament. That isn't a good way to start things off.