5 Times Bones Helped Somebody, and One Time He Needed Help
Leonard McCoy sighed as he readied his instruments on the small silver table in front of him. He was tired, he was hungry, and he was damned near at the end of his rope. Today, he had received a promotion of sorts, though not in any way he would have expected or wanted. He would have never imagined becoming a CMO so early in his career at Starfleet, but with Dr. Puri dead at the hands of the Romulans he had had no choice in the matter.
At least now, a few hours after the treacherous exchange with the Romulans the sick bay had calmed down somewhat. The injured were stabilized, and the dead had been seen to with respect and honor. Now in front of him sat a somewhat shell-shocked and disheveled looking Hikaru Sulu. He had shown up at the doors of sickbay looking pale and clutching his left bicep. McCoy had managed to pry Sulu's hand away long enough to see that a deep gash had been cut in the kid's arm, and was bleeding steadily. He had immediately escorted Sulu to a table, knowing he would have to take care of this himself as he had sent the rest of the shocked and grieving staff to get a couple of hours of rest.
He had Sulu remove his long sleeved yellow over shirt and carefully began cleaning and disinfecting the wound. As he applied the disinfectant, Sulu sucked in a gasp through his teeth, his face screwing up at the sting.
"Well damn kid," muttered McCoy, shaking his head, "next time don't pick a fight with an angry axe-carrying Romulan."
The comment seemed lost on Sulu who was now staring into space.
"You ok, Sulu?", McCoy muttered glancing up into the young officer's face.
"He just jumped." Sulu muttered, still staring at the wall straight ahead. "He just jumped and grabbed me."
McCoy suppressed a sarcastic smirk and shook his head, having already heard of Jim Kirk's heroic mid-air rescue. "That's typical Jim for you." Damned idiot, he thought to himself.
Sulu's gaze shifted to McCoy. "He could have died. I could have died."
McCoy was silent for a moment as he wrapped a light gauze bandage around the wound. He carefully taped the bandage in place and looked up at Sulu. "You didn't die. And that's what counts. Don't dwell on the past, it'll eat you alive. Besides, you have a job to do."
Sulu stared at him for a moment before smiling a little. He slid off the table and grabbed his yellow shirt, striding to the door. As the door slid open for him he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks, Doc." He murmured, and McCoy knew at that moment he was not just being thanked for the bandaged arm.
"Bridge to medical."
The matter of fact voice over the con startled McCoy, and he jumped a little glancing up from his PADD. He looked over at the communicator, and pressed a button. "McCoy here."
"Dr. McCoy, we will be needing your assistance promptly on the bridge. It appears the acting captain is unwell." Spock's calm flat voice had spoken smoothly over the con.
McCoy sighed and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Leave it to Jim Kirk to wait this long to seek medical attention when he had probably needed it days ago. At this point the kid had been beaten, battered, bruised, nearly choked to death, and probably had not slept in days. McCoy had known that this would happen eventually, but any attempts to make Jim stop and try to take care of himself had been futile in the face of the impending destruction of Earth by the Romulans. Now that that particular threat had been eliminated, Jim was finally spent and McCoy knew it.
"I'll be right up Spock. Just keep him from running away. He's been known to try to avoid me in the past."
With that, McCoy gathered a few hyposprays and over supplies and made his way quickly up to the bridge.
When he stepped onto the bridge he found Spock carrying out his orders in the most literal way. Spock had Jim by the shoulders and seemed to be literally pinning him to the Captain's chair. Jim was struggling, mumbling weak protests about being fine as he squirmed under the Vulcan's steady hands. Spock looked up at him. "He made an attempt to escape as soon as we terminated communication, Doctor."
MeCoy smiled as he strode over. "You can let him go Spock."
Spock released Jim, and stepped back, folding his hands behind his back with a curt nod. Jim squared his shoulders and glared at both him and Spock. "You two are making a big deal out of nothing." he said, standing up quickly. "I'm…"
And before he could get out the word fine his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed. Spock and McCoy rushed forward, catching Kirk before he hit the ground and lowering him gently to the ground. McCoy pulled out a tricorder and quickly ran it over Kirk's bruised and beaten body. He looked at the readings and shook his head.
"He hasn't eaten or slept in a long time. He's strained his back, and has three broken ribs and multiple contusions and lacerations." At this he glared up at Spock, knowing it was the Vulcan's ferocious loss of temper that had caused some of his friend's injuries. Spock did not notice the glare. He was staring down at Jim, a small furrow between his high brows. Was that concern? McCoy couldn't tell.
After a moment Spock spoke. "What will be your course of action, Doctor?"
McCoy pulled out the hypospray needles. "I'm going to give him a few injections and remove him from duty. He needs at least three days off, and he should be ok with that since we are doing nothing but cruising through space and waiting to get home."
Spock nodded stiffly as McCoy quickly administered the hypospray injections. "I will help you transport the Captain to sickbay." The Vulcan said quietly and he easily slid his arms under Kirk's unconscious form and stood, making his way off the bridge.
As they walked the halls of the Enterprise together, Kirk stirred. "S'goin on?" he slurred, struggling a little in Spock's grasp. "Bones! Spock! Put me down! I'm…"
"Don't you dare say your fine, Jim." McCoy barked as they walked through the sickbay doors.
Leonard McCoy's brow furrowed in worry as he quickly ran his tricorder over the unconscious form of Pavel Chekov. The young Starfleet officer was laying on one of the sickbay beds, deathly pale and covered in a light sheen of sweat, his breaths coming in shallow rapid gasps. A quick glance at the monitor above the bed, showed the kids heart to be beating far to fast, thrumming along at an astonishing 140 beats per minute. He knew the boy's heart could not take strain like that for long, and he quickly injected a hypospray sedative, hoping it might help bring down the heart rate.
After a minute, the boy's heart rate dropped to a 130 beats per minute, which was better, but still much to fast. He had to figure out an antidote the poison that had gotten this kid.
With a nod to Nurse Chapel he strode over to the small lab in the middle of med bay and opened the door. On a table in the lab rested a noxious looking purple thorned flower with intertwined red and green petals. He carefully took the flower in his gloved hands turning it over and remembering the information Jim had given him as he had handed him Chekov in the transport room.
"I found him like this Bones." Jim said, his eyes never leaving the unconscious young officer. "He was just out like a light next to this bush." Jim had carefully held out the flower. "Maybe this will help."
Bones sighed. Jim's first official away mission as Captain of the Enterprise was not supposed to end like this but he supposed it couldn't be Chekov's fault. He turned the flower over in his hands again, noticing how wet and sticky it appeared. A drop of something slid of one of the purple thorns and he caught it in his glove, wiping it on the scanner. The reading showed a nasty mix of toxic substances and he knew Kirk's instincts had been right. The thorns were poisonous, and judging by the chemical mixture would cause all the same symptoms they were seeing in Chekov. That kid had caught a thorn somewhere and they would have to find it and dig it out before they could successfully treat him.
His course of action decided he carefully set the flower down on the table and trotted over to Chekov's still form . He grabbed a fresh pair of gloves as he asked Nurse Chapel to kindly cut away the kid's shirt. He carefully searched Chekovs upper body, gently prying with his fingers until he found it. A massive thorn was buried in Checkov's right side. He took his tweezers and carefully extracted the 3-inch long purple thorn. Making a face he dropped it into a bowl and quickly cleaned, disinfected and bandaged the wound. He had just given a hypospray dose of precautionary antibiotic, when Kirk walked in, looking worried.
McCoy glanced up at the monitor, noting the drop in Chekov's heart rate to 110 beats per minute and listening to his breathing ease. He smiled up at the Kirk. "He'll be alright, Jim".
McCoy had just finished making his rounds and prepping sickbay for the Enterprise's impending departure from Earth after three weeks of shore leave. The sickbay was in supreme condition, fully stocked and sterilized. He rubbed his hands together surveying his work with a smile, and was making to gather his things and leave when the door swished open.
Surprised, he turned, only to meet the stare of the ever stoic Mr. Spock. The tall first officer was standing stiff and still in front of him, his hands characteristically clasped behind his back.
"Spock." McCoy said with a nod. "What brings you to the Enterprise so early?"
The Vulcan seemed to hesitate a moment before answering. "I actually came here to inquire after you, Doctor. I knew you would be on the ship preparing for our impending departure."
There was a long moment of silence. McCoy stared at the Vulcan, normally so good about cutting to the chase, who was now seemingly seeking him out for no reason. After another moment of silence, he decided to pry. "What is it, Spock?"
The Vulcan released a breath and spoke in sudden rush of words. "Our Captain managed to persuade Lieutenant Uhura and I to spend shore leave with him in Iowa. He seemed to be under the impression that it would be good for me to 'really see the country'. However, during our stay, I came into contact with a flying insect that decided it would be in its best interest to attempt to make a meal out of me."
At this, Spock pulled aside the neck of his uniform shirt to reveal a surprisingly large welt on the right side of his neck just above the collar bone. McCoy stepped forward, surveying the bite with his eyes. It was rather swollen and had a green tinge to it, and was leaking a clear puss and green blood. He motioned towards a bed and watched Spock stride stiffly over to it as he pulled out a tricorder.
"Do you know what sort of flying insect this was?" he asked calmly as he carefully scanned the Vulcan's neck and turned for his hyposprays.
"The Captain identified the marauder as a 'horsefly'.' Spock said shortly, keeping his gaze on the wall.
"Well, you should stay away from horseflies, Spock. You're allergic to them." McCoy said has he injected the Vulcan with an antihistamine hypospray. He watched as the redness and swelling slowly reduced.
"I assure you I was not looking for the creature. It seemed to enjoy following me before it decided to attack my neck." Spock muttered, his voice flat.
"Well, maybe you smelled appetizing." McCoy said but his joke was lost on the Vulcan, who was already off the table and striding out of sickbay.
"Put me down!"
The shouts of a distinct female voice caught Leonard McCoy's attention. He turned looking around for the source of the yelling, and found it walking through the doors of sickbay.
Spock was striding in, carrying a violently protesting Nyota Uhura in his arms. His face looked as impassive as ever, but McCoy thought he could detect a hint of fear in his eyes as they searched the sickbay. "Really Spock! This is completely unnecessary." Uhura said, frowning as she tried to struggle in the Vulcan's iron grip.
McCoy strode up to the pair, trying to suppress a smile at the comical scene. " Well, what do we have here Commander?" he asked Spock, his eyes roving over the pair and looking for anything obviously wrong.
Spock met his gaze. "The Leiutenant has been injured on her most recent away mission and has been refusing to see a doctor. This illogical course of action has only worked to exacerbate the injury."
McCoy nodded. "I see. So you decided to take matters into your own hands."
Spock gave a stiff nod. Uhura pouted, having finally given up on her struggle.
McCoy motioned to a bed. "Well bring her here and we can take a look at this injury."
At this, Uhura squirmed a little, looking pointedly up at Spock. "I can walk." she said frostily. Spock stared back at her for a moment, then gently set her feet in a standing position. Uhura stood straight and tossed her long hair, then stepped forward on her right leg.
As soon as her weight came down the leg, Uhura crumpled, falling forward with a gasp of pain. Spock caught her calmly, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed easily. McCoy frowned, picking up his tricorder and carefully removing the boot on her right foot.
Uhura winced as he prodded the swollen, purple ankle carefully with his fingers. It was definitely broken. Stubborn people on this damn ship, he thought to himself as he prepared some hypospray injections to relieve her pain while he set and healed the ankle.
"Spock was right. You should have seen me earlier." he said with a wry smile up at the pair.
If looks could kill, at that moment Nyota Uhura's glare would have reduced him to cinders.
Leonard McCoy groaned. Someone was shouting his name, the frantic sound seeming to reach his aching head through a long tunnel. He tried to move, to turn his head or open his eyes, anything, but he felt so heavy and he was tired.
"Bones! Hang on Bones! We're comin' for ya!"
Was that Kirk's voice? The kid sounded like he was in trouble. McCoy threw himself into the effort and managed to open his eyes. The world resolved itself into a windy distorted blur. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he found himself to be lying on his back, his face turned upwards towards the sky. He swallowed and attempted to move. As he shifted his legs he felt pain shooting up from his right thigh like fire. He cried out, unable to help it, his head falling back against the hard ground. He shut his eyes again as the world seemed to spin out of control.
"Bones! It's ok Bones! I'm coming."
Damn the kid was getting annoying. He opened his eyes again, careful not to move any part of his beaten body. He was looking up at the sky again, but this time he noticed a steep cliff face to his right. At the top of the cliff, some thirty feet up, he could see the worried faces of Jim Kirk and Mr. Spock. "Jim…" he managed to croak, surprised to find his voice nearly gone.
"Oh God! Bones! I'm coming down for you man! I'm coming!" Jim shouted scrambling forward. He was stopped suddenly as Spock held out a restraining arm.
"Captain," the Vulcan said calmly. "It would be unwise to make your way down the cliff without observing first. I see a clear path to the doctor if you are careful. Also, I have rope, which will secure you as you make your way down."
"Right." Kirk said with a stiff nod. "Right, lets do this Spock."
Spock raised an eyebrow and nodded, pulling rope out of his pack and assisting a shaking Captain Kirk in securing it around his waist. McCoy groaned as he watched Kirk swing himself out over the cliff face, held steadily by Mr. Spock. "Can't you just beam me back to the ship?" he croaked, wincing as Kirk slipped a little and steadied himself on the rope high above him.
Kirk shook his head, concentrating on maneuvering his hands and feet as Spock dropped him lower. "Nope. Your communicator broke Bones. I'll get to you then we can beam out together."
McCoy looked up at Kirk who was drawing steadily closer now. "And how exactly did I end up like this?"
Kirk landed lightly next to him and gave him a worried little smile. "You tripped." He muttered as he knelt next to his friend, reaching for his own communicator. "Scotty!" he barked, "Beam us up now, and get a medical team to the transport pad."
Kirk grasped McCoy's shoulders, staring worriedly into his best friend's face. "It's gonna be ok, Bones. I gotcha."
McCoy raised his eyebrows as the golden light that preceded beaming encased them. "Of course it's gonna be ok." he muttered. "I'm with you, Jim."