A/N: I appreciate all of you who've added this to your alerts and/or favorites. Science appears to be cooperating for once so it's looking like I'll be able to post every other day, instead of what I originally thought, so the wait shouldn't be terribly long (it's only 4 chapters).

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Chapter 2

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He had to admit; he did feel like a new man after going back to his apartment to shower and change before grabbing a sandwich at his favorite deli. True to the nurse's word, a data pad was waiting for him on a bedside table when he got back to Jim's room. He plopped down in the chair with more force than necessary and began tabbing through it. There wasn't much change, but there was a little bit more improvement. He'd been started on dialysis in his absence to help his body rid itself of the dead cells being replaced. Clearly Jim's body was going to take its sweet time and that this was going to be a test of his patience.

"C'mon, Jim, you can fight this," he was prepared for the iciness of Jim's hand when he grabbed it this time, "I never got to say goodbye."

With his free hand he used his credentials to open up the Sickbay files from the ship. All of the injured unable to be discharged had been transferred to Starfleet Medical to finish their treatment. He made a mental note to make it a point to stop by and check in on everyone. A flashing icon caught his attention; apparently a CMO saving a dying captain didn't earn a reprieve from all of the paperwork Starfleet required. The sad thing was that most of them were death certificates that needed his signature, 157 confirmed casualties. Sighing, he opened up the first one and started working.

Several hours and several dozen certificates later he found himself nodding off in the chair at Jim's bedside. It was already dark outside. He set the data pad down and scrubbed his face with his hand, he was too old for this shit. The aroma of finely roasted coffee mixed with lavender hit him before he saw Uhura standing in the doorway holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"Can I come in? I brought coffee to bribe you with," the communications officer asked tepidly.

McCoy was glad to see her, and the coffee, "Well…you did bring coffee."

She flashed a pained smile and crossed into the room, depositing the coffee cup into McCoy's eagerly awaiting hands as he offered up the lone chair in the room.

"How is he?" she took Jim's cold hand in between hers.

"Some small improvement in terms of cellular regeneration, but no where close to any major system recovery."

"He feels like a block of ice."

McCoy took a drag of his coffee; "It's to preserve any remaining organ function. It's also helping keep some of his other injuries at bay while we focus on more vital functions."

"Other injuries?" her hand gripped the captain's tighter.

"Yeah, he sustained quite a bit of internal damage before traipsing through the warp core and it's not like that helped things either."

"Will he be okay?"

That was the million credit question, "I hope so."

"Spock was going to come with me, but he's been held up at HQ. The amount of questioning he's undergone from Command has been outrageous. My debrief was no where close to what he's going through."

"He looked exhausted this morning," McCoy sat down on the cot that was still in the room.

"He hasn't been resting well. This incident has really shaken him up. I've never seen him cry before."

"So it is true, that hobgoblin actually has a heart," the doctor smirked.

A small smile escaped from Uhura, "He was with Kirk when…"

McCoy's heart sank; Jim had spent his last moments with the Vulcan robot. No one had thought to call him. He wanted Jim alive just to bitch him out for what he put him through.

"It happened so fast, Leonard," clearly he didn't keep his emotions from reaching his face.

"I cou—"

"I know Jim would've wanted you there too, but he was gone so quickly. Spock only had a minute with him."

As a doctor he knew this. The human body could only take so much ionizing radiation and the amount zipping through the warp core was hundreds of times more than what was considered lethal. Jim was lucky to have lasted as long as he did. He couldn't have done anything for him anyways, but still that feeling wouldn't stop gnawing at his gut.

"At least someone was with him, you know?"

Uhura only nodded. The two officers sat in a companionable silence listening to the whirring and clicks of all the instruments in the room. It was peaceful in the room with the lights automatically dimming for the evening. A wave of exhaustion hit the doctor and he leaned back against the wall. He was just going to close his eyes for a few seconds.

###

"Leonard, you really need to take care of yourself," there was a voice above him, "This is the second time I've come in here and you're passed out in the corner."

He opened his eyes and immediately regretted the decision. It was apparently daytime again and the light was scorching his retinas.

"Phil," he stood up off the cot stretching the muscles in his back.

"Remember our agreement? This isn't what I had in mind…" Boyce was standing by the monitors on the other side of the bed.

"I have nothing to do other than to wait," McCoy saw a data pad clutched in the older man's hands, no doubt Jim's records.

"Which is precisely why you're going to start seeing patients. We've been flooded with injured from all over San Francisco," he handed McCoy the data pad in his hands.

Shit. That wasn't what he assumed at all.

"But,"

"No buts, Doctor McCoy. There's nothing you can do for Captain Kirk other than stare at him. I've looked at his newest scans and cellular regeneration is up to 23%. He's got more healing to do before we can think about taking him off ECMO and dealing with his internal injuries. We haven't even begun to address the damage to his immune and nervous system, and who even knows how much brain function he's lost. This is going to take time and I'm not going to have you sitting here all day with your thumb up your ass moping. If you're going to be in this hospital, you're going to be useful."

McCoy was stunned, he couldn't believe that the old man still had it in him to dress him down, "Yes, sir."

"Good," Boyce nodded to himself, "Once Kirk's up to about 30% we'll look into repairing all the internal trauma and get his circulatory system going under it's own steam again. We're going to take this one step at a time."

The CMO nodded; truthfully he wouldn't have done anything different.

"I expect that Command will be looking for you soon. I've been asked to keep them appraised of the Captain's condition, and they were really interested in your 'unique solution' as they called it."

He'd known all along that this was shady, but he had forced it deep down in his gut when the tribble came back to life. Those stupid ship logs recorded everything. Khan's blood hadn't been tested on anything other than a tribble, which was a far cry from anything resembling human physiology. Not to mention he did take the genetically engineered blood without consent from Khan and transfused it into Jim without his consent either. The medical review board was going to have a field day. Then there was the other side of the coin where they were likely to lock Jim away and experiment on him after coming back from literal death. This was one epic shit storm that was brewing.

"I was hoping they'd stay off this for a little bit longer."

"Well, if it's any consolation, you did good," he gave McCoy's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before exiting the room.

He looked down at the data pad he'd been given to avoid thinking about his upcoming date with Command. The transferred members of the Enterprise had been assigned to him. One small mercy about having to see patients was at least he wasn't working in the ER. With one last look at Jim and he was out of the door.

###

McCoy would never admit it, but it had been a relief to be busy all day and not constantly thinking about treatment protocols for Jim for every little scenario he could think of. Most of the crewmembers, the ones awake, were ecstatic to see him and questioned him endlessly about the condition of their captain. Of course they would've heard about what happened since gossip on that ship traveled faster than light speed. He reassured them that they were doing everything they could and that they just had to wait. There was no sense in lying to them after everything they'd been through recently. A few of the crewmen were discharged and a majority of the others would be soon. There were a dozen others seriously injured but were expected to make a full recovery in time, though it was unlikely they would ever return to active service.

The clock display on his data pad flashed 2015 hours; he'd worked a full day and he felt it. His feet had led him to Jim's room without even thinking about it. He'd sat with Jim at lunch while he ate a sandwich, but that had been the only time he'd seen him. Mercifully the visitor's chair was empty and his joints cried with relief upon sitting down. He should've brought an overnight bag with him; there was no way he was making it back to his apartment to sleep.

Pulling up Jim's chart on his data pad he quickly scanned through all of the updates. Still no change.

"You're more than welcome to speed things along," he informed his friend.

Of course there was no response, he probably would've pissed himself if there had been. He pushed back an errant lock of hair off Jim's head and settled back into the chair with his data pad. He opened up his work file from the Enterprise and dove into it.

It was some time later when a beep emanated from the biobed's console. McCoy looked up from his work, the number displaying Jim's blood pressure had turned yellow. Frowning, he stood up. The ECMO had been providing steady circulation for several days without any incident. The monitor beeped again, this time the number turned orange. Shit, was all McCoy had time to think before the number turned red following by an incessant beeping. Hemorrhage. He ripped the cooling blankets off the bed and pulled Jim's hospital gown up to his chest. There were multiple vascular stabilizers dotting his abdomen and chest, but beneath one on his abdomen was a dark purple bruise.

He slammed his hand down on the emergency call button on the console as several nurses and Dr. Boyce were crossing into the room.

"He's hemorrhaging!" McCoy shouted.

"Damn, I thought we'd have more time," Boyce was at McCoy's side in an instant.

McCoy and Boyce barked orders at the nurses who dutifully followed them, pushing vasopressors and volume expanders, silencing the screeching alarm, and getting all of the equipment attached to Jim on the biobed for transport.

"Lets get him to the OR now," McCoy disengaged the clamps on the bed and it floated free of its base.

"You up for this, Leonard?" Boyce asked as the group raced down the hallway to the turbolift.

"Yes sir," McCoy looked down at Jim's ashen face.

The group arrived in the OR and Jim was quickly transferred to the surgical biobed while the two surgeons changed out of their hospital whites and into scrubs. McCoy silently thanked whoever invented the sterilizer unit he just ran his hands under before sprinting into the OR with Boyce right behind him. The duo hastily donned the rest of their surgical gear.

The anesthesiologist at the head of the biobed nodded and the two surgeons quickly got to work. McCoy's brain shut down and muscle memory took over as he and Boyce isolated the bleeds and shut them down. He was literally up to his elbows in Jim's insides. The man was losing blood faster than they could replace it; it was like the dam broke all at once.

"Hang another four units and open all the fluids wide open," Boyce barked from behind his mask.

"Dammit, Jim," McCoy hastily threw saturated surgical sponges into a bowl.

One by one they removed the vascular stabilizers to repair the damaged tissues underneath. The team continued to battle their war for hours until McCoy and Boyce took a step back from the grotesque mess that was before them. Blood was everywhere; it saturated the cloths covering Jim, the floor, their shoes, and their gowns. Jim was still alive. He was fighting harder than either of them could've predicted.

"Dear God," McCoy surveyed the frightening mess.

"This man needs to buy a lottery ticket," Boyce was wiping his gloved hands on a surgical towel, "Lets leave him on ECMO for the time being until he recovers from all this. He's already at thirty-six degrees so lets leave that alone for now, maybe things will speed up a bit. Up the zephromycin to 25 migs and start a lentanyl drip at 0.2 migs. I want a set of neural scans every six hours and keep transfusing until his counts come back up."

McCoy was frozen. Jim's life had narrowly missed slipping through his blood soaked gloves and he had pulled him back by a thread. That gnawing pit that was in his stomach when he opened the body bag was back. The man had been through so much already and this seemed like it was just prolonging the inevitable. I can't let him go.

"Leonard? You alright?"

Hazel eyes blinked when Boyce stepped between the two friends, "I'm good."

"He's alive, Leonard, that's what counts right now. This is uncharted water, complications are expected."

Boyce was right; this was not going to be an easy feat to bring a man back from the dead. They were going to have to take this once crisis at a time. McCoy watched as Jim was cleaned up and he was transferred onto the biobed in a fresh gown. Boyce subtly led him back to the scrub room to clean up.

###

"I miss you, Jim."

He just wanted the old Jim back. The man that had saved him from the tailspin following his divorce, who helped him get over his aviaphobia, who nagged him to death like an excited child, who led him through one of the worst disasters Starfleet had ever faced, and the man that had died to save him and his crew. Instead he got the shell of that same man lying on the biobed before him, desperately clinging on to life. If you could call it life…his heart hadn't beat in days and his brain was barely functioning. The biggest challenge had yet to be faced, was there even a 'Jim' left in that brain of his? The only response from the biobed was the dermal regenerator clicking away over bare skin repairing the incisions.

The sun started peaking through the privacy filters on the window in the hospital room, bringing a new day ahead. McCoy had stood guard at Jim's bedside for the rest of the night, ready to spring to action at the slightest decline in vitals. He had grasped his finally warm hand for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping the man alive.

"He's going to make it, Leonard," Uhura said softly from the door.

She and Spock were standing in the doorway dressed in coveralls, no doubt in preparation for their day of recovery duties in the city.

"Doctor McCoy, I was informed of the most recent…complications. What is Jim's condition?" Spock stepped up to the biobed.

"He's the same, Spock. We repaired all the internal damage, but we're going to have to let him recover some before we try to make more progress."

"Were you up all night?" Uhura spied the dark circles under the doctor's eyes.

"Yeah, I was."

"Leonard, you shouldn't…"

"I know I shouldn't, but I will. He sacrificed everything for us and I'm going to do everything I can to see that he comes out of this," McCoy's drawl sounded more determined than either of the two officers had ever heard.

Spock just stood there, unfazed at the doctor's outburst. Uhura put a gentle hand on the doctor's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, "You're doing great, but Jim wouldn't want this. He worked to hard to save us, to save you."

"I'm not leaving him alone again…" his throat was clenching.

He didn't want to finish that line of thought, but his brain filled in the part about not wanting Jim to die alone again. Sure Spock had been there, but there was a four-inch pane of radiation resistant glass separating them. Now the man was hanging onto life with his fingertips and they weren't going to let him go.

"We'll get someone to come sit with him so you can rest Leonard, we'll set up shifts so he's not alone."

"We have to go downtown, but we will return tonight to sit with him."

McCoy nodded. The pair took one last look at their captain before departing. It was almost an hour later when Sulu and Chekov showed up, dressed in civvies, with a bag of food and entertainment.

"Doctor McCoy," Sulu set his bag on the cot in the corner.

"Sulu, Chekov," McCoy noted that the young ensign's wide eyes fixed on Jim.

"Uhura and Spock called us to come relieve you for a while."

"I appreciate…"

"We are also under orders from Commander Spock that we are to not let you stay."

McCoy's brain flashed back to the helmsmen sitting in the Captain's chair threatening to obliterate John Harrison if he didn't surrender. He reasoned that it might be best to leave for a while. God knows he wasn't the twenty something resident he used to be that could work several shifts without sleep.

"Besides, I'm sure the Captain is ready for some different company for a little while."

"We will take excellent care of ze keptin," Chekov finally looked away from Jim.

Sulu stood there unwavering. McCoy groaned as his joints protested the effort to push himself upright.

"Alert me if anything changes," he said pointedly.

"Aye sir," Sulu replied.

McCoy bent down to Jim so that their foreheads were touching, "I will strangle you myself if I hear that you've pulled this crap again."

He turned quickly before tears could start bristling at his eyes.