The Dream time
"Jim," a familiar voice drawled form the turbolift doors, "when are you coming down to sickbay so as I can make you into lamp chops?"
Captain James Kirk smiled and turned around. Leonard Bones McCoy stood there, arms crossed and glowering. "Soon, Bones," he began.
"Do I have to to have Spock knock you out and drag your lifeless carcuss downstairs?"
Spock's eyebrow rose slighty in response. "I highly doubt, doctor, that those actions will be necessary."
Bones raised his own eyebrow. "Really, Spock," he drawled, pouring on the souhtern accent. "So, Jim there is just going to waltz on down to his waiting bed?"
Jim smiled. "When do you want me?"
"Now."
"Later."
"Now, Jim."
"Ten minutes."
"Five."
"Seven."
"Two, and Spock taks you damn there himself."
"Now, and I'll walk."
McCoy walked back to the turbolift and bowed. "After you, Captain."
"You have the conn, Mr. Spock."
"Certainly, Captain."
"Happy, Bones?"
"Just perect, Jim, just perfect."
"I think we are done, Nurse. Clean him up, will you?"
"Certainly, doctor."
"Thankye kindly." McCoy went over to the wall intercomm and called the Bridge. Spock answered from the command chair. "Jim's all patched up, Spock."
"So the surgery was a sucess?"
"Yep, it was. Although how he got a hole that big I don't know. I need him to stay here for a few days."
"Certainly, doctor."
McCpy signed off and turned back around. He saw that a thermo blanket had been tucked around the Captain's sleeping form. He would probably sleep for the rest of the day. Feeling very proud of himself, he went back into his office to work on the paperwork.
"And I want you on half-duty for a week. Got that?"
Jim smiled. "Yes, mother."
Bones waggled a finger at him. "I'll be watching you, you know that!"
"Yes, mother."
Growl.
Laughter.
McCoy sat in the rec room, patiently coaxing the heat out of a cup of old fashion homegrown coffee. He had just decided that the world was finally going his way when Spock entered. To anyone who didn't know a Vulcan, they would have found nothing in his expression. McCoy, however, knew this Vulcan and the subtle expression set off a warning bell in his head. More followed when Spock came over to him.
"What is it, Spock?"
Spock seemed to pause a moment in hesitation before speaking. "What should the Captain's palor be after such a surgury?"
McCoy's waring sense was by this time drumming up the band. "Oh, damn," he whispered, horrifed. "I didn't get it all sewn up. Oh, damn!"
Spock shifted slightly. " You do not belive that Jim should be the colour he is them, do you?"
"Sheet White or Yellow?"
"The former."
"Get him, oh never mind. Let's both go." Now, don't go anywhere coffee, we'll continue this appointment when I get back.
"Tell me you haven't been getting enough sleep, Jim," McCoy pleaded.
"Bones, I've never slept better. Why do you ask?"
McCoy leaned on the bridge railing. "Jim, I'm sorry."
Kirk frowned. "For what?"
"For messing up in surgury, for not sewing you up altogether."
Kirk got up from the Captain's Chair. "Bones, what are you talking . . ." He stopped and swayed slightly, then collasped to the deck.
"Scaple," Bones ordered.
"Scaple."
"Come on, Jim, don't die on me," he muttered, looking up at the diagnostic panel. It didn't look good. "10 cc's of adrenline. Get his heartrate back up."
"Yes, Doctor."
His hands were shaking. Why weren't they steady? Eyes won't focus either.
"Doctor, heart beat is erractic. Breathing's laboured."
"Damn it Jim, pull through!" He ordered other medicine, other treatments. Nothing's working, Bones thought, panicking.
"He's flatlined."
"Start the heartbeat again," he ordered. "Come on, Jim," he cried in anguish. He was aware of performing CPR, pounding the chest, the nurses trying to pry him of.
"He's gone, Doctor. It's over, McCoy."
"No," he sobbed. "No!"
Strong feverishly warm hands gripped his shoulders. "Doctor, come you need to leave now, to rest."
"No," he sobbed, trying to clutch at the bed, at the life that had just slipped through his fingers.
Spock's voice was close to his ear. "I mourn with thee, McCoy. Sleep well, my friend."
McCoy's whole body suddenly went numb. Thank you, spock, he thought. Just, can you amke it go away forever?
McCoy awoke in stages. He knew he was in his own bed, that the lights were dim, that someone was sitting nearby. He couldn't remember why he was here; he knew that it wasn't ship's night. Suddenly, the memories flooded back. The surgery, the second surgery, the . . . the . . . He moaned. Oh, Jim, I'm sorry. Why couldn't I save you? Why?
"Doctor, it is past time you awoke," Spock's voice invaded into his thoughts.
"Go away, leave me alone," he moaned, trying to shut out the world.
"Doctor, you are unwell. You should repot to sickbay."
Yeah, declare myself unfit. Go crazy. "Yeah, might as well," he said outloud. He got up and walked toward the sonic shower. "I'll meet you there," he said dully.
"Ceratinly, doctor, but I am needed on the bridge."
"Yeah, sure, see you there."
Spock shook his head and left. McCoy followed him to the bridge a few minutes later. The turbolift doors opened and McCoy went over to Spock's station. "Spock," he said getting the Vulcan's full attention. "Commander Spock, I hereby . . . I hereby state that I am unfit for duty and should be removed from duty because of the subsiquinte death of Captain James Kirk."
During this grand statement, the turbolift doors had opened and someone was standing behind him, staring at him. Spock eyes glanced at the figure and raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I did not know, Captain, that you had died."
McCoy whirled around. "Jim??!!? But, but . . . you're dead!"
Kirk frowned. "Really? I hadn't noticed, Bones. Everything alright?"
"You're not dead! I didn't kill you! You're not dead."
"Bones, maybe you should go downstairs. Have someone look at your head."
"Oh, no, I'm fine!," McCoy said. "Really."
"Sure. Whatever you say."
Hope you like it, let me know if you do, at obiwanben@eudoramail.com