It Must Just Be Your Southern Charm

Chapter 4

Hannah's POV

Three weeks later...

Well this is going to be interesting...

I had no clue dad was teaching a class. He scared me half to death when I saw him in the classroom a couple of weeks ago. This could be great or this could be really bad. I mean, so far it's been good. At least that professor I'll most likely get along with... unlike the one teaching Fractal Calculus. Considering that math skills are used in both medicine and engineering, they wanted me in this class. I understand most of a ships innerworkings, so they've decided if push came to shove on a ship, I could work in engineering if need be. My official job will be a medical officer, but considering that I can do this and that I'm trained in some forms of combat, I can do a pretty wide range of jobs on a ship.

The professor teaching Fractal Calculus is driving me up a wall. His monotone voice makes me insane. He only believes in the use of logic when it comes to problem solving. He doesn't seem to understand intuition or heck, flat out using emotion in a real world problem. I mean, this is freaking math and he manages to bring up how raw emotion should never be used in any situation. All that's doing is pulling raw emotion out of me. I swear, I want to pull his stupid pointed ears off. At least I have Pavel in this class with me. I think he's the only thing keeping me sane.

Mr. Spock is currently explaining how an equation relates back to something or other with the engines. I have kinda tuned him out at this point. He explaining how in a situation in which an engine is to fail, you should enter the situation emotionless and level-headed.

Emotionless? Maybe that's easy for you, but not exactly for us.

"And how exactly do you expect us to just go into a situation like that feeling absolutely nothing," I pipe up.

"Pardon me, Miss McCoy?" he asks.

"I mean, in this situation, your brain has verified to you that you are in imminent danger along with the rest of your crew. So you don't feel any of that whatsoever?" I question. Of course, this isn't exactly a question. I've just had enough of this.

"In a situation, such as the present example, it is best to put aside emotion. If you are focused upon a feeling, such as fear or even live for your crew, then you have become compromised," I replies.

"Seriously?" I snap rather sarcastically. "You really just put aside everything? Maybe that's easy for you, because you're a Vulcan, which I still don't understand how y'all do that. I mean what, you just feel absolutely nothing? No love? No hate? No fear? No hope? Nothing?"

He sighs annoyed. I can tell I've gotten to him.

"Vulcans simply choose to acknowledge emotions differently. We choose not to express them."

"Why? Just easier? Easier not to feel?"

"Possibly. But if you're emotions cloud your judgement, Miss McCoy, then your mission success becomes that much more improbable."

The little debate continues for a while until it becomes an all out argument. The class watches looking back and forth as if they were spectators at a ballgame. This continues until I feel soft skin on my hand. I look over to see that Pavel has lightly placed his hand on mine. I look over into his eyes. Don't ask me why, but I'm instantly calmed. I sigh and relax. He puts the weight of his hand on mine and closes his fingers around it. I see Mr. Spock has noticed this. He smirks, but I don't think it's for the reason I'm thinking. No, he's much more logically minded than that. There's something else.

What are you seeing?

I don't have time to ask before class is dismissed. As I leave, I look back to see him staring at Pavel and I. His face, like usual, shows no emotion.

Ugh! He drives me crazy!

The rest of the day I think about this. What was he seeing? I eat lunch with Pavel, like I do everyday, go to my medical class after lunch and go home. Dad gets home about 20 minutes after I do. He sees me in my room laid out on my bed.

"What's the matter with you?" He asks.

"I'm gonna go to jail, because I'm going to commit murder," I tell him. "One of my instructors is driving me up a wall."

"Let me guess," he says. "The Vulcan?"

"Yep," I reply. "Of course."

"I figured," I starts. "I mean, youngin', you ain't the spitting image of me in looks, but there's definitely some Leonard McCoy in your attitude."

I smile and laugh. He can't help it, he joins right in. He doesn't laugh much. I swear I'm the only person that ever gets to see it. Few people think my dad ever smiles. They don't know him like I do. Mom was there when I was younger, but in a sense she wasn't. My dad truly raised me. He woke me up in the morning. He made me breakfast. He took me to and from school in our old, rusty truck. After school, I went to work with him. He spent his evenings with me doing pretty much whatever. He tucked me in at night. He was and still is my hero. No one knows him quite like I do.

I remember when he and mom divorced. I remember he and mom fighting day in and day out over who got custody rights of me. I remember court case after court case. I remember going into his room one night to see him crying. When he looked up and saw me, he came over to me and picked me up. He held me in his arms, and we cried into each others' shoulders. I remember the relief that came over me when the judge ruled in his favor. We left for Starfleet the next day.

"Well," he laughs. "I'm not bailing you out of jail if you kill him, so try to avoid that."

"No promises," I tease him.

"Ok," he starts. "Please tell me, and this may sound cheesy, that you made at least one buddy this semester."

"Yeah," I say... What I don't realize is that I sigh while saying it. Dad's eyebrows shoot up.

"Hold it," he nearly jumps. "Would this happen to be a boy?"

"Maaaybeee..." I state quietly.

"Oh," he says. "So it is a boy... Do I get a name?"

"Uh uh," I tell him quickly shaking my head. "For his sake and mine."

Dad just stares at me for a second and rolls his eyes.

"Fine," he states. "But I will find out at some point."

"Good grief."

"I'm your daddy. It's my job."

"Whatever."

"Hey, at least we're not still in Georgia, cause you know if we were he'd have to deal with me and the shotgun."

I roll my eyes. He just laughs.

Good grief, daddy...

"Ok, fine," he starts. "I'll leave you alone about it... for now."