The emergency surgery necessary to remove the creepy little Romulan parasite from Captain Pike's brain stem took over eight hours to complete. After finalizing the procedures and getting the older officer comfortably situated on a bed in sickbay proper, Leonard McCoy gratefully pulled off his sterile gown and cap and ran a weary hand over his face. He and the rest of the medical staff had the opportunity for little to no rest since their deployment.

Doctor Puri and several nurses had been killed during the initial confrontation with the Romulan's and the staff that remained consisted mostly of green, untested kids. The senior surviving RN, Christine Chapel, was maybe 23 years old and the rest of the support staff even younger. Glancing over at the cluster of nurses, McCoy tried to offer the exhausted young men and women a smile but he wasn't sure he came close to succeeding.

With a sigh, he glanced around the still somewhat crowded room in search of Doctor Abigail Prewitt. A late comer to Starfleet like himself, Prewitt had been an ER doctor before signing up for the Academy, when her own messy divorce had left her yearning for a change of scenery. Since McCoy spent most of his time surrounded by significantly younger cadets, her company was a welcome change and a reminder that people could mature into reasonable, competent individuals.

Prewitt was standing over a biobed, dutifully checking a monitor. Dark smudges made her grey eyes look sunken in her pale face and a few tendrils of nearly black hair escaped from her ever present French braid. McCoy was certain he looked similarly haggard, all the way down to the fine worry lines around the eyes and mouth.

Approaching her, Bones looked down at the bed and sighed. At least Jim seemed to be sleeping peacefully. "How bad was it?" Bones questioned Prewitt, whom he had sent to retrieve Kirk from the bridge as he himself rushed Pike into surgery.

"Had to resort to not so subtle hypospray threats before he relented," Abigail informed him. "Then he passed out on the bridge. He was very co-operative after that."

Bones snorted. "Of course he crashed. The adrenaline and sheer stubbornness finally ran out," he said, earning a nod from Prewitt, who wordlessly handed him Jim's chart.

With another sigh McCoy began reading the litany of injuries his friend had suffered over the past two days. Concussion…well, obviously. Dumb ass let himself be used as a Vulcan's punching bag, no to mention whatever the hell happened to him over on the Narrada…Fractured zygomatic arch, hematoma surrounding left eye, multiple facial lacerations and contusions, Trachea bruising and swelling…I'll remind him of this the next time he plays antagonize-the-exponentially-stronger-alien…Repeatedly dislocated and reduced shoulder, 4 broken ribs, 6 cracked ribs, multiple contusions and lascerations to torso, some showing signs of infection, internal bleeding, fractured hand, multiple contusions and lascerations to legs, removed large sliver of rock from left thigh, badly strained ligaments in left knee…

"How in blue blazes was he still functioning?" McCoy said in amazement, scanning the treatment records and approving of Prewitt's methods.

Prewitt pushed a sturdy sickbay chair beside Jim's bed. "Like you said, adrenaline and stubborness. Not unlike some other people I won't mention."

With that she gave Bones a shove into the chair, causing him to scowl at her. She glared back and after a minuite they traded nods to acknowledge the stalemate.

Glancing over at the nurses, Bones said, "Okay, half of you get some sleep. The rest of you check your patients then sit before you fall down."

The nurses scurried to comply and Prewitt pulled another chair over to Pike's bed. It made sense, considering he was the most critical patient at the moment and Bones wasn't quite ready to abandon Jim's bedside just yet.

TBC

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