Disclaimer: Whaddya mean I don't own Trek?! Says who?! I sure as hell didn't get that memo!
A missing scene from Absolute Horizon. Takes place immediately after chapter 17. If you haven't read it, this will make little to no sense.
A/N: Written for Anna Amuse, whose incredibly touching story Absolute Horizon was the inspiration, and for Steff, who dared me to write something. My first fanfic ever. As a matter-of-fact, outside of schoolwork my first original work of fiction ever. If it's good, I have these two ladies to thank for their patience, guidance and gentle encouragement. If it's bad, I have no one to blame but myself...
Hell to Pay - McCoy
McCoy lifted his head from his desk as he heard the doors to the sickbay whoosh open, followed by a spirited litany from Christine. And she sounded quite angry.
"I don't know what the two of you were thinking, but that was some of the stupidest behavior I've seen in a long time, and from two of our senior officers, too!" What kind of example is that for the crew?"
At this, McCoy dragged himself to his feet and started to move toward the treatment room. "Probably Sulu and one of his compatriots from his Tae Kwon Do class," he muttered to himself under his breath.
But the reprimand he had in store for these two died on his lips as he emerged from his office and was met by the sight of the captain and first officer, flanking a very irate Christine, hands on her hips, her back to McCoy.
"That was really uncalled for! You could have seriously hurt one another! And where would that leave us on this mission, with both our Captain and First Officer on the injured reserve list?"
She stopped her tirade abruptly, turning as she heard McCoy's footsteps behind her.
"Jim, what in blazes –", he started, but stopped quickly when Kirk's head snapped up, anger dancing over the hazel eyes, silently saying 'not now, Bones, just drop it.' And just as quickly as the Captain had raised his gaze, he dropped it again, settling for staring at something fascinating on the Sickbay floor.
McCoy shifted his glance to Spock, who did not look up to meet his eyes, but continued to stare fixedly at his left boot. The room fairly crackled with tension, neither man willing to look at him, or each other for that matter, and Christine standing between the two looking helpless and frustrated.
He quickly assessed their injuries: judging by his stance and rapid breathing, Kirk probably had several broken ribs. In addition, his lip was bleeding and the beginnings of a black eye were becoming visible. On the other hand, Spock looked none the worse for wear, except that he seemed to be favoring his left leg, his weight shifted onto his right one to counteract the discomfort. But their body language said it all: this was no accident - these two had been in a knock-down, drag-out fight. Just what the hell is going on here?
McCoy closed his lips over the choice comment he wanted to make, rapidly switching gears. Understanding the silent need for the two men to be separated at the moment, he tried a different tack.
"Christine, would you please take Mr. Spock into the exam room and check his knee for me? Judging by his current stance, I'd say it's at least sprained, if he hasn't outright torn a ligament." He said this knowing Christine would not agree to it if she felt Spock's injuries were serious.
A silent plea passed between McCoy and Chapel, and she once again became the quintessential model nurse, all crisp efficiency compounded with a proper dose of professional detachment.
"You heard Dr. McCoy – if you'll follow me, please Mr. Spock," and she disappeared into the next room. Spock hesitated for just an instant, as if deciding which were the lesser of two evils – staying here and facing McCoy's wrath, or subjecting himself to what he viewed as Christine's none-to-professional ministrations where he was concerned. After a split second of indecision, he turned on his heel and followed Christine without a word.
"Okay Jim, hop up here and let me have a look at you," McCoy said, patting the nearest exam table. Kirk looked up and started to protest, but McCoy won the silent battle of wills this time.
He watched as Kirk crossed the distance in a few steps, gingerly seating himself on the table, a slight wince of pain playing over his face. McCoy had also slipped into the role of consummate professional, waving his Feinberger over the captain with practiced ease.
"Hmm, three broken ribs, a superficial laceration to the lining of your right lung, and quite a shiner to go with that split lip," he drawled, trying hard to keep his tone light and non-confrontational. "Mind explaining to me just how you managed this, Jim?" he asked, a little more gruffly than he intended.
"We were working out in the zero-G booth," Kirk offered, wincing again as McCoy probed his sore ribs.
"And…," McCoy prodded gently as he reached for a hypo, dialing up a strong painkiller.
"And, well, things got a little out of hand," Kirk finished uncomfortably as the doctor injected him. McCoy waited patiently for him to continue. "It's not unprecedented, Bones, you know how easy it is to miscalculate in zero gee. One minor error and things can get out of hand pretty quickly."
"That must have been one hell of a miscalculation, Jim," he snapped, his anger getting the best of him. "I'd like to know just who it was who miscalculated – you or Spock?"
Kirk's head jerked up again at that, and McCoy could see the flash of anger in his eyes reappear – anger, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Wanna talk about it, Jim?"
Just as suddenly as the anger had appeared, it melted away to be replaced with – fear, desperation, longing, remorse – he wasn't sure. And that was quickly masked into a look McCoy couldn't read, a wry grin suddenly breaking over Kirk's features.
"Nothing to talk about, Bones, it was just an accident, really." But McCoy wasn't sure who Jim was trying to reassure – the doctor or himself.
"I find it hard to swallow that it was 'just and accident'," McCoy snorted. "If it had been, Spock would have carried you here himself, your image in the eyes of the crew be damned." "There's no way on God's green Earth that –"
Suddenly, the door to the adjoining exam room swished open to reveal Spock. He glanced briefly in their direction, his eyes pleading silently with McCoy's - but what was he asking? Is Jim all right? Are we all right? What did he tell you? McCoy wasn't sure.
He went for the safe bet. "Three of his ribs are broken, there's a superficial tear in his right pleura, and luckily, there is no break in the orbital bone around his right eye, although you'd never know it to look at him," he finished dryly, eyeing the Vulcan carefully.
During this exchange, Kirk's gaze remained fixed on the floor – he did not look at the Vulcan nor ask about his condition. Once again, McCoy's eyes traveled between the two men. Just what the hell is going on here? It only served to increase McCoy's suspicion that there was much more to this than a mere miscalculation. But he also realized that forcing a confrontation now would do more harm than good. Spock was now staring at Kirk's bowed head, seemingly willing Kirk to look at him, and Kirk was just as determined to avoid the other's gaze. Neither man spoke. Spock opened his mouth as if to say something, but McCoy shook his head slightly and Spock, seeming to think better of it, turned and disappeared into the corridor without a backward glance.
"Your obvious concern for him is really touching, Jim," he quipped, somewhat sarcastically, as he bent to clean the cut on Kirk's lip. At least Spock had had the decency to ask about Kirk's condition, even if only silently.
"Why should I be concerned? It's just a sprained knee, you said so yourself," the captain snapped. His tone softened a bit. "Besides, if you thought there was something really wrong with him you would have insisted on checking him yourself. You never would have let Christine handle it by herself."
McCoy stopped his ministrations and looked Kirk squarely in the eye. "All right Jim, wanna tell me what's really going on here? Since when have you not been worried about every little bump and bruise he suffers? And we're talking about Spock, mind you – the walking trouble magnet."
When Kirk didn't respond, McCoy continued, angrily, "And what about your condition? You and Spock have been working out together for years, and in all that time, you've never come in here with injuries this severe. Spock is a lotta things – hell, I'll be the last one to defend him – but he certainly wouldn't do this by accident. He's much too cautious for that, especially where you're concerned. Just what the hell happened in there?"
Kirk met his gaze with stubborn resistance, the hazel eyes darkening, but he remained obstinately silent.
McCoy felt a sudden chill run down his spine, and the friend in him longed to march Kirk into his office, sit him down, and get to the bottom of this mess. The psychologist in him warned him of the danger, however. He had not been immune to the growing discord between the two, and while he had a pretty good theory on what was causing it, it was very clear that, at the moment, neither of them was willing to discuss it. But McCoy was sure it had everything to do with what had occurred in the zero-G booth. It would be several days before they reached their destination, so he decided just letting them stew for now was the best course of action. Spock might not seek him out, but he was sure Jim would once he'd had a chance to calm down and put things in perspective.
His decision made, McCoy continued, more calmly, "Okay, just lie back and let the bone knitter work, Jim. And I'll do something about that eye and lip – can't have the captain appear in front of his crew looking like he just returned from a bar fight on Wrigley's Pleasure Planet."
But his attempt at levity was once again met with stony silence. The ghost of a smile McCoy had seen playing on Jim's face a few minutes before had vanished along with Spock's departure. Having finished repairing the damage to Kirk's lip and eye, his thoughts in turmoil, not sure what else to do, McCoy opted for escape – it would give him time to think, and more importantly, it would give Jim time, too.
"I've got some work I need to finish, Jim. Just lie here quietly and let the bone knitter do its work. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so. If you don't think you can manage to sit still for that long, I can certainly call Christine in here to babysit," he said smugly, grinning at Kirk. Mercifully, Christine seemed to have gotten the silent message that he wanted to be alone with the captain, and had obviously found something else to occupy her time after Spock's hasty retreat. He needed to talk to her, badly, but wouldn't do so while Kirk was still here. Didn't want to give him the impression they were ganging up on him.
Kirk's eyes met his again for an instant, and then his gaze slid away to something that was unquestionably much more interesting on the far wall. McCoy turned to go, but not before resting his hand reassuringly on Kirk's arm, giving it a slight squeeze. "When you're ready, so am I, Jim." And with that, he beat a hasty retreat to his office.