milliways_bar | (no subject)

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The front door opens, and a highly distracted Doctor McCoy wanders through. Someday he's going to realize it is highly hazardous for him to wander through doors while distracted, since that always seems to land him in Milliways. He's dressed in his usual starfleet blues, with his favorite blue scrub top, munching on an apple and going over lab results from the last round of routine physicals.

...

Someone please stop him before he runs smack into the bar.

(ooc: ~~Must disappear for 15-20 min. Sorry! Will be~~ back!)

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Even Barry, with his limited knowledge of pop culture, knows Leonard McCoy at first sight. He's glad not to be in his costume today, thinking it would be too hard to explain that. Not with what's on his mind.

"Good afternoon, Doctor. I know we haven't met, but your reputation preceeds you. I'm Barry Allen." He offers a hand to shake.

"Well, a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Barry Allen." McCoy smiles warmly and shakes the proffered hand. "I suppose you aren't new to this place?" God knows the first time he had come here, he had hardly been so articulate.

"I've been here close to eight months now. It's home these days. There are worse places.

"And since I haven't seen you about till now, Can I assume you haven't been here that much?"

"Oh, I pop in, now and then. Usually when I'm least expecting it. Thankfully, never when I'm needed onboard ship."

"The Bar's funny that way." He pauses and steadies himself to jump into business.

"Let me ask you something. And if you say no, I understand.

"Things have been brewing here. Basically, a lot of folks here are going off soon into what can only be called a small war. There are certain to be injuries. And the Bar is woefully short of doctors and healers.

"is there any chance you can be asked to stay for a while and help us prepare a field hospital of sorts? If you can't, that's fine. I have something of a sense, from what I've heard, that your job on the ship is two jobs by itself. But we need help."

If there is one thing McCoy has never been able to do, it's turn down a plea for help. His eyes narrow as he scans the room, already plotting out how best it could be used.
"I don't think that would be a problem. Every other time I've been here, no time passes back on the Enterprise. They shouldn't even know I'm gone. Now. Can we get supplies here somehow, or do I need to go back to my medbay and stock up?"

"I'd have to look into that, but it might be to our benefit if you bring things back either way. See, most of us here are from your past, and I think that given what we face, some more advanced medical solutions might be in order.

"I do appeciate this a lot, Doctor. I've been trying to get together a list of doctors for a while, but wasn't able to find you till now. I would almost say the Bar wants you here for this." Barry smiles with gratitude and maybe a little relief.

"One question, though. Are you okay working with magically oriented healers?"

That brings McCoy up short for a minute. Then:

"Do they get the job done?"

Barry watches McCoy react. It's about what he expected. Saving lives comes first and then the doctor will sort out the things that don't makes any sense to him.

"As far as I know. The only healer I know is Eska Smith, and she's more an herbalist and midwife. But I've seen their handiwork, and it's at least good enough for field medicine."

"Then they're fine. They can do the hootchie-cootchie dance, if it gets them results. Can't be too particular in a situation like this." Now, if Barry had asked if he'd let a magic user work in his surgery, without any plausible explanation of what said person is doing, the answer would have been a flat no and a rant about midieval medicine.

"I sincerely doubt many would do that. I would guarantee Eska would never do that. It's too undignified." Of course, Barry smiles at the idea, and then dismisses it as far too silly.

"I wish I'd met you under better circumstances. I don't normally start a conversation with a stranger by acting like a recruiting poster.

"I've heard a bit about you. I think you know my friend Ray Stantz?"

"Don't worry, I'm used to it. Seems like every time we reach a world, lately, they're in desperate need of doctors." He waves off the apology. "And yes, I've met Ray. Seems a very personable man."

"Oh, definitely. Though Ray can be a tad...enthusiastic. A good friend and a good man to have around in a crisis, but he can get carried away.

"Anyway, he told me you were about. So it's good to meet someone that he seems to hold in such high regard." And it's all that even Barry Allen, the occasional comic book character, can do not to ask if the doctor knows he's fictional on Barry's world.

"He's a good man. I'm glad he thinks well of me." McCoy replies, sounding pleased.

And no, he doesn't know. He'd probably laugh, then attempt to find out what sort of head injury Barry has.

"Most of the people hear are good men and women. That's why I'm doing what I can to get the hospital going. People are giong to be heading into harm's way because it's the right thing. People I care about. And they deserve to live, don't they?"

Differential diagnosis - stress, an old case of survivor's guilt...

McCoy smiles, and claps Barry on the shoulder.
"That's what we'll be here for. We'll all do our best, and let God, or whoever or whatever you care to believe in, take care of the rest."

"Sounds like that might be a plan.

"Anyway, Doctor, I should be going. Other doctors to recruit. I'm glad to have met, and to have you on board. Let's keep in touch and see about keeping this coordinated."

"Certainly. I'll be around, after a quick trip back for supplies. Good talking to you, Barry."

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