“This is insane.”
“This isn’t the first time that you’ve said that.”
“Any previous occurrences where I may have uttered that phrase have been rendered obsolete. I was exaggerating, you may have noticed that I sometimes do that, it’s called a figure of speech. This, however?” Danny spits, and gestures expansively at the scene set out before him. “This is insanity. These people are claiming to be from the twenty-third century and given their weapons, and the thing that is currently handcuffed to the pipes in my office that looks suspiciously like a crocodile in a gold jumpsuit, I can’t disagree with them. They transported themselves here from space. From a spaceship. How are you being so calm about this?!”
“Danny, you’re the only one that’s not keeping a calm and level head about this.”
“I beg to differ, their doctor seems suitably distressed by the whole scenario. In fact I’m fairly sure he’s the only one here, apart from myself of course, who have any shred of sense in his head.”
“McCoy? He doesn’t look very distressed to me. He’s calmed down, maybe you could take a leaf out of his book, give it a go? Keep your stress levels down.”
“No, no you’re right, at least he’s no longer sitting in the corner and weeping about how we’re so backwards and unsanitary and inhumane that we inject people using needles. At least he’s being useful now, which is more than I can say for your friend over there, who looks like he wants to either go off exploring or have an in-depth discussion with you about the relative merits of various explosive devices! These people might not be deranged but they are very much in the wrong place, and I want them off my island.”
Steve shrugs, looking around, and Danny follows his gaze around the room. Uhura and Kono look to deep in conversation about something that Danny doesn’t even want to think about, and McCoy is frowning so hard that his face looks like it’s about to fold in half as he stitches up a terrifyingly cheerful Kirk. Danny can’t see Chin, but he suspects he’s still sulking in his office – the same place he’s been for the last half hour since he tried to proudly show off the table, and was promptly laughed at by the rest of Kirk’s crew for his primitive technology.
“I don’t know. I could get used to them. I like them. Especially Kirk,” Steve says eventually.
“You only like him because he threw himself out of an airplane with you to catch the bad guy and enjoyed it!”
“You only don’t like him because he likes to break the rules.”
“The world cannot handle more than one Steve McGarrett. This is probably breaking some laws of reality, you guys both being in the same place has got to fail on some sort of quantum level. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen sci-fi shows where this sort of thing causing a black hole or something. He’s basically you, in two hundred years time. You know I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a direct descendant. Look at you, your mental illness is genetic.”
Danny scowls, and Steve just smiles, and looks up as McCoy comes across the room towards where they’re leaning against the desk, medical kit clutched in one hand and still looking slightly wild-eyed. So much for no longer distressed.
“McGarrett, I need to sort out that cut on your arm,” he says flatly, and promptly whips out a small scanner and grabs at Steve’s arm without waiting for a reply.
“I’m fine, really,” Steve protests, and tries to pull away – but McCoy has a surprisingly strong grip, and a deadly glare that makes Steve stop shuffling like a child at the dentist. McCoy turns his gaze to Danny, who inches away instinctively.
“When mine gets like this, I lock him in his quarters for a few hours until he’s calmed down,” McCoy advises, quite matter-of-factly, and slaps a colourless, gel-like patch onto Steve’s arm. “The laceration’s deep, but this regenerator will be enough. Leave it on for ten minutes and it’ll be healed up. Do you want an analgesic?”
Steve swears as McCoy hits him in the neck with something that looks like a fuel injector, and stares at the doctor with disbelief.
“Is this how you treat all of your patients?” he asks, and McCoy shrugs.
“I’m usually nicer, but I know your type.”
“Hey Bones!” Kirk shouts gleefully from the window, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. There’s a mark on the glass from where he’s had his nose pressed against it. “Can we go swimming with sharks?”
“No,” McCoy says flatly as he packs up his medical kit, without turning around. He peers at Steve’s arm for a second before stalking off and disappearing to check the fashion-challenged crocodile. Danny pats Steve's good shoulder sympathetically and waits a good five seconds before speaking.
“Okay, I’ve changed my mind, we can keep that one."