You Can't Be Too Careful [Star Trek/Leonard "Bones" McCoy Love Story]

[25.] The Consequences of Caring

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry it's been so long. I was on a mission trip for a week, and then I got sick for a week, so I haven't been able to write. But I am back now! Hope you all enjoy! :)

[25] The Consequences of Caring

 

 

 

 

            Three hallways later I decided that if I were to make it out of this situation alive, I definitely needed to hit the gym more. Up until this moment in time, the adrenaline had been enough to keep me on my feet. But now, I was starting to feel the exhaustion and pain that I had managed to miss beforehand. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, and my limbs hurt like crazy from being tossed about so much. I could already see two large bruises forming on both kneecaps, and I could feel a knot growing on my forehead where I had hit it on the console in the Medbay.

            The pains, of course, did not stop me. There was no way I was going to just assume Uncle Scott was okay. Yes, I ached all over. Yes, I felt like I was going to pass out from the physical exertion. And yes, I was starting to think that maybe my one-woman mission was slightly improbable. But it wasn’t impossible, which is what kept me going.

            Had the ship been upright, it probably would’ve been much easier for me to run. But alas, anything being easy is just not the way of the world. What would the point in my mission be if not to complete it under incredibly difficult circumstances? No, the ship was not upright. It was rotating out of control, sending cadets and commanders flying in every which direction. As I moved forward, I found myself sprinting across the floor, then the walls, then the ceiling, then the walls, and then the floor again. With Astrid and Uncle Scott missing, I felt as if my entire world was going to spiral into oblivion forever.

            The halls began to turn once more as I continued on. This time, I was prepared for it, and was able to run along without much stumbling. The next time it turned, it was like I had trained for the very occasion. I almost laughed with delight at how well I was doing. In fact, on the eighth rotation, I did laugh…

 

…right as I lost my footing and crashed from the ceiling to the floor, successfully forcing all of my body weight onto the twisted position of my right wrist.

 

            As I tumbled along with the ship, I screamed in agony, cradling my wrist to my chest and begging no one to make it stop. I was thrown in every direction, slamming into metal with every second that passed. But nothing compared to the aching of my wrist having since fallen upon it. Pursing my lips and holding back the tears, I crawled my way to a corner, where I locked my knees and tried my best to defy gravity.

            After a few moments of consideration, I decided to look at the joint in which the very essence of pain had decided to take shelter in. To my great dismay, the bone was twisted in the exact opposite way of what it was supposed to be and was more prominent than it had been before. In fact, if I were to make any sharp movements, I was certain that it would pop right through my skin, which was already fading to a vibrant purple. I was positive that I had broken it. It was definitely not normal, that’s for sure.

            I let out a small whimper and began to limp down the hallways once more. My heroic running days were over (at least for the time being). With every rotation of the ship, I locked my knees and waited until it was straight again. Because of this, it took me awhile to actually get anywhere. At this point, I wasn’t irritated by the time it was taking; I just wanted to find Scotty and make sure he was safe. But when I did finally arrive somewhere, I felt both fear and bitterness overflowing within me, because I was too late.