Montgomery Scott

[continued from this conversation]

Ten minutes, he'd said, and a little less than that he was beaming down into the Hub, just as he had about a week before - only this time for a very different reason. He didn't know what to make of the revelation that Jack was immortal, was going to live forever. But that wasn't what was important right now. There'd be time later to sort through that, to try coming to terms with what that meant. It wasn't that information that had spurred the decision to come down.

It was that Jack had been through so much worse than Scotty could even possibly imagine, and he'd had no idea what to say - and felt that this particular conversation was one better had in person, face-to-face. The silences wouldn't be so awkward then, when he didn't know what to say, because he'd be there, be able to hold onto Jack, to let him know that he was there even when words failed him.

It had been, Scotty realized, as he busied himself with packing up the now-finished phasers he'd promised to build for Torchwood, quite a while since he'd last talked to Jack. That was nothing new, of course - the two of them tended to go for stretches at a time without checking in on each other. And that was his first mistake - he ought to have called ahead, to let Jack know he was coming down to the Hub, but since it had been a while, Scotty thought he might just sort of pop in. Surprise Jack. There was of course the risk that maybe there'd be something going on with the Rift when he beamed down, but he figured that surprising Jack was more than worth it.

So with his shift over, and him freshly showered and dressed down out of his uniform and carrying a case with several non-regulation phasers he made his way to the transporter room and beamed down into the tourist office section of the Hub - the coordinates of which he had by now memorized.

Scotty wasn't exactly sure what had happened. He was still somewhat in a state of shock, and he knew that he should head up to Medical and get his arm taken care of, but first things first - he had to make sure his crew was alright. It probably should have worried him that he couldn't quite feel his arm, but there were more important things to worry about. Roping off the area of the blast, for one, and organizing a clean-up crew. Making sure that no one else was seriously injured. Luckily, it looked like he was the only who'd got hit with any shrapnel; everyone else who'd been standing in range seemed to have suffered only minor abrasions.

ehy. hye.

hey

Scotty had told Jack he'd be done with the turbine rotor in an hour, and he was running late. Not that there was much he could do about it; he'd rather be a bit late than do a shoddy job and end up with a busted turbine. Even so, he couldn't deny that it was a relief when that final blade was properly locked into place. His legs were beginning to cramp from the way he'd had to fold himself around the rotor to even get at the thing in the first place, but overall the satisfaction of a job well done far outweighed the discomfort. Still, it was a relief to be able to stand upright again, when he climbed out of the containment shaft. He tossed the old blades down onto the floor below before making his way down himself, and once on the floor he paused to shrug out of the top half of his jumpsuit; he had on a black undershirt, but apart from that he'd opted to go without his customary uniform today. No need to go getting a good uniform all covered in grease.

After shouting for someone to come gather up the old blades and get rid of them, he made his way out of engineering, not bothering to stop by his office on the way out. Anything short of an emergency could wait until tomorrow. It wasn't until he'd made it about halfway to his quarters that he realized he'd forgotten to ditch his toolbelt, and even when he did notice, it was in an off-hand sort of way; he had other things on his mind. Things like Jack, for instance, and the fact that he hadn't really spoken to him since the virus. And, if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he was a bit nervous. Still, he wasn't about to back out now. A few more decks up and he was nearly at his quarters; a few corridors over and he was there, and there was Jack, waiting for him.

Scotty hadn't yet had time that day to check the community; he'd been busy, which wasn't an unusual thing for him, and between one thing and another he'd not only managed to go nearly a whole day without checking up on the community, he'd also managed to go nearly a whole day without remembering to eat. The end of his shift found him tired, hungry, and once again covered in grease; the other day it had been helm relays and piston shafts, today it had been plasma conduits. Cleaning the things was a dull, tedious task, usually delegated to the rookies or anyone who'd been in a bit of trouble, but every now and then Scotty liked to make an example by doing those sorts of jobs himself.

After the plasma conduits it had been an on-going series of other small, menial tasks, but it was a welcome break from paperwork. Now, however, Scotty was off duty and on his way down to the mess hall to grab something to eat before heading back to his quarters. He'd almost made it to his destination when he happened to pass by someone who was both strangely familiar and not wearing a Starfleet uniform. He paused, and turned, and then it hit him. After the few video chats they'd had, he'd recognize that coat anywhere. "Captain?"