Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount/Viacom. This story is the property of SterJulie and is copyright (c) 2005 by SterJulie. Rated PG.

 

After the Credits: Day of the Dove

SterJulie

 

Montgomery Scott squared his shoulders and tried not to sway as he stood outside of Mr. Spock's quarters. Taking a deep breath for courage, he stabbed at the signaling button. He hit the target on the third try.

 

Spock had finished his meditations and was just about to change from his robe and prepare for sleep when he heard someone outside his cabin. From the accented muttering, he could identify the voice of Mr. Scott.

 

Spock remembered the angry words he had heard from Scott earlier. "Keep your Vulcan hands off me. Just keep away! Your feelings might be hurt, you green-blooded half-breed! Transfer off, FREAK!" Scott had said these things to him while they were all under the influence of the unnamed creature that fed off negative emotions.

 

Spock had dealt with his reactions to the creature's influence, his hurt and his anger at Scott's statement, and the lie he told: "May I say that I have not thoroughly enjoyed serving with humans? I find their illogic and foolish emotions a constant irritant." Spock realized that the creature had only used him as a puppet. Those were neither his words nor his (dare he say it?) feelings.

 

Spock heard several taps at his doorframe before the buzzer actually sounded. Was Mr. Scott drunk?

 

"Come."

 

The doors parted and a glassy-eyed Montgomery Scott peered in.

 

"Am I disturbing ye?" Scott asked almost timidly.

 

"No, Mr. Scott," Spock replied. " You may enter."

 

Scott barely came into the room far enough to permit the doors to close.

 

"Ah owe ye an apology," Scott declared. "I said some things earlier that I shouldna said."

 

Spock studied the proud Scot, standing rigidly at attention, doing an admirable job at hiding his intoxication.

 

"Mr. Scott," Spock said gently, "did you have to get drunk to get up the courage to come and speak with me?"

 

Scott reacted as is he had been slapped.

 

"No, Sair!" he insisted. "A wee nip of Scotch is as good as truth serum. It made me realize the terrible things I said to ye."

 

/Truth serum?/ Spock thought. /That sounds like Sybok's special "incense."/

 

"Creature or no, I was out of line, Sair," Scott continued. "Ah don't think you are a freak, an' ah'm sorry I said it."

 

"Apology accepted, Mr. Scott," Spock replied.

 

"Ye're the kindest, smartest, cleverest, most diligent man ah know," Scott continued.

 

"Thank you, Mr. Scott."

 

"Bravest, smartest," Scott continued. Spock thought it best to stop the engineer's litany of praise as Scott began to repeat himself.

 

"Mr. Scott, that will be enough," Spock said gently. "Your apology, while unnecessary, is accepted." Scott blearily stared at the First Officer. "Mr. Scott," Spock continued, "you are off duty now, are you not?"

 

"Aye, sair," Scott replied. "An' dinna worry about the scotch." He patted his trouser pocket. "Ah never leave wi'out m' medicine."

 

"That is an antidote to your 'truth serum,' I trust," Spock answered. Scott looked at Spock as though he had grown a third eye.

 

"Aye," he stated. "M' medicine. Whatya think it was? Hair of the dog?" Scott moved unsteadily to the door. "G'night, Mr. Spock."

 

"Goodnight, Mr. Scott," a confused, bemused Spock replied. He moved over to his computer and typed in /Query: Define 'Hair of the dog.'/

 

-FIN-