leftwithmybones | (no subject)

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ellen

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McCoy's not really the type to go meet all his neighbors, so the truth is that he's got no clue who the hell lives around him these days. He's tempted to let Jim loose on them and get a report back later, but it does mean that when he's out by the garden, he's never sure if the people who pass by are just wayward islanders or if they're just down the beach from him. He's out in the sun with an umbrella stuck in the trees for shade, tending to the most recent crop of vaccines.

He's going to have to break apart the tomatoes to get at the code, but they've been improving with every batch (especially now that the cat's not getting loose in 'em and chewing them right through). He glances up when he sees a shadow just down the way, shielding his gaze and squinting at the figure.

"You got any pets?" he calls out, not wanting a vet trip today. "Because if you do, I wouldn't let them anywhere near here."

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"Starfleet?" Ellen glances over at him as she follows him inside, careful to shake any remaining sand off her feet so she isn't treading it in. "Is that where you two met?"

"Jim and I met on a shuttle on our way to recruitment, yeah," McCoy says, a fond look on his face as he reminisces about that first fateful meeting. "I was drunk off my ass and ranted about space to him after they dragged me out of the bathroom. I'm not good with flying. Anyway, I warned him I might throw up on him and a best friendship was born."

"It's amazing what a threat of vomiting can do to bring people together," Ellen replies, smiling faintly. "And Jim - he just showed up here, or has he been around and only just moved in?"

McCoy glances over his shoulder, wary of Jim walking in on this conversation. When it doesn't look like he's coming, he clears his throat. "It's his second time, here," he says under his breath. "He left, then he came back. If I can help it, I'm not letting him leave again, no matter what."

"Does he remember being here?" Ellen asks, her voice dropping to the same decibel level as she leans in, like they're trying to keep from being overheard - which, understandably, they are, especially if he's trying to protect the truth of it from his friend. "Does he know he was here before?"

"Jim? No. Doesn't remember a thing," he admits, which is good in its own way and bad, at the same time. After all, it's not like McCoy wants Jim to remember how painful it is to lose someone who's not here anymore. "It's a fresh start for him, not that he really wants it. He wants to be back up there with his ship."

"So let me guess," Ellen replies, drawing her own conclusions from what he's saying versus what he's not saying. "He's one of the people who are probably trying to get off the island more than others, right?" She knows how far some have gotten in the way of developing ideas and plans - which, truth be told, isn't very far.

"Jim's not gonna rest until he gets out of here," he agrees, which is the problem. McCoy's been on the island for two and a half years, now, and the only time people go is involuntarily. "I'm pretty sure I ought to be outfitting a straightjacket in his size for the day the search for an escape drives him batshit insane."

"Maybe you should be designing more than one straitjacket if that's the case," Ellen admits, lips twisting into a frown of thought. "I'm not sure how many people are currently trying to find a way to leave, but it sounds like he'd be joining a small club."

"He's just overly enthusiastic about it. Plus, he's a genius, so I have no idea what kind of trouble he's going to go to to figure it out," McCoy says, a bit exhausted at only the thought. "Seriously, Jim's the smartest man I've ever known."

"That's high praise, coming from a doctor," she answers, both eyebrows rising. "But let's be honest here: would you ever say that to his face, or is this the kind of praise that we just keep to ourselves because he already knows he's a smarty-pants?"

"Maybe if he were anyone else, I wouldn't say it to his face, but the truth it, he's my best friend and I don't mind inflating that ego of his every once in a while. I mean. Hell, he does deserve it, he's a genius. He deserves to hear that."

His answer charms Ellen, and without even realizing it, she's smiling. "You're a good friend," she adds, before clearing her throat and nodding to the rest of the house. "So, give me the grand tour of this place."

"Well, what you see's the porch as it basically stands," McCoy offers, wandering up the steps. "It creaks here and there. I did the best I could, but even with some help, I couldn't get it perfect. The elements are a real devil to try and work with, sometimes," he admits, holding the front door open for her.

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