See first chapter for information!
A/N: Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews! I'm glad you all accepted my idea so well, and I hope you continue to enjoy what I write!
The next time he surfaced into the land of the living he was pretty sure it was under his own power. He tentatively opened his eyes and only saw the ceiling, not any eyes staring back at him. Good, that was starting to get creepy. He took a survey of how he felt and decided he was in the same general shitty condition. He felt a movement on the bed next to him and looked over to find Jim's feet inching their way closer to him as the other man slid down his seat, asleep. He couldn't help the chuckle that escaped when he thought about how if he had the energy he would push the feet off the bed, which would most certainly cause the Captain to slide from his chair.
"Jim?" he called out with almost no volume. He shifted in bed and noticed that the sheets were stuck all over his body with sweat. "Gross," he muttered to himself as he tried to free himself from the entanglement. The effort tired him out and he collapsed back on the pillow with a groan. "Jim?" he called again with a bit more force. This didn't get any results either, and not having the energy to try again did the only other thing he could think of, he draped his arm over his eyes and ordered the computer to raise the lights to 100 percent. At least it could hear him.
When the lights flashed brighter the previously sleeping captain started in his seat and nearly slid all the way down to the floor. He righted himself and then ordered the lights back down. "I'm sorry, Bones, I didn't mean to fall asleep," he apologized as he checked the temperature of the other man's forehead.
Bones waved it off with a weak flick of his hand. "Just take me to the bathroom," he replied hoarsely as he finished extracting himself from under the sheet. Jim stood up and helped him come to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
It was at this moment he knew he should be terribly embarrassed. He was sitting, sweaty and trembling, on the edge of his bed in nothing more than his boxer shorts, and the only reason he got to this position is because Jim had practically drug him upright. And it wasn't the first time today. But for some reason he wasn't. Maybe it was because he had met Jim at probably the lowest point in his life; when they had met on that shuttle he was crushed from the end of his marriage, drunk and unshaven and on the verge of hysteria. If the younger man had accepted him then, surely he wouldn't think any less of him now.
"Bones, you alright?" questioned the other man. Of course he wasn't alright. At this very moment he was trying not to throw-up on the Captain's shoes. But before he snapped back a sarcastic remark he realized he was leaning way to the left and the younger man was struggling to keep him upright. He righted himself and nodded.
"Yeah, sorry." About this time the door to his quarters hissed opened and Dr. Oberon entered, carrying a scanner and a hypo.
"How are you feeling Dr. McCoy?" asked the older doctor as he began scanning the half-naked man. McCoy felt himself shiver despite his efforts to stay still. "Your fever hasn't gone down any, but it also hasn't risen. We'll give you this dose and I'll be back in about 30 minutes to check on you alright? Here you go, Jim."
McCoy looked up just in time to see Jim receive the hypo as Oberon showed him where to inject it. He groaned as the hypo was deployed, not so much from the pain but from the look of excitement on Jim's face.
"You're right, Bones. That is fun," stated the blonde as he handed the hypo back to the standing doctor. Oberon said a few more words and then left the quarters. "Ready?" inquired Jim.
"Yeah, after you get me a shirt. I don't want you looking at me in just my boxers anymore."
"A little shy, are we?" question the younger man as he opened a drawer of the dresser and pulled out a civilian t-shirt. Bones eyed him, curious as to how he knew where his t-shirts were kept, but then remembered he had once caught Jim going through his clothes looking for a shirt to wear on a date.
"No, I just don't think you can keep your hands to yourself," quipped the doctor as he accepted the shirt and, with great effort, pulled it on over his head. Once he was finished Jim stooped and pulled one of his arms around his neck and slowly lifted him to his feet.
"Sorry, Bones, you're not really my type," he smirked as he led his friend to the bathroom. "Need any help in there?"
"Not since before you were born," muttered McCoy as he stepped into the bathroom. Jim watched as the door slid shut behind him, and then shook his head and chuckled lightly. He waited until the doctor reappeared and then led him back to the bed. About half-way there the doctor's knees weakened and almost sent them both to the floor. "Dammit," he cursed as Jim righted them both.
Once they were headed towards the bed again, Jim looked over and could see the look of pure frustration etched in the other man's face. The last time he remembered being anywhere near this sick was when he had the Earth flu. He had been about 12 years old, and it had embarrassed him to no end that his mother had to help him to the bathroom. Of course at that age, having your mother do anything for you is embarrassing.
As soon as McCoy sat down on the bed bed, his stomach growled. He had to resist the urge to glare down at it. How could he be nauseous and hungry at the same time? Apparently the younger man had heard it as well, and he was sure Jim couldn't help the laugh that escaped.
"Hungry?" he questioned. He waited as the other man pondered the question for a moment before offering the old Earth remedy for illness. "I could make some chicken noodle soup," he stated. He watched as the doctor's lips turned up slightly at the suggestion. "Alright, I could have the replicator whip up some chicken noodle soup."
Bones thought it over for a moment and agreed to try some. Jim turned to the replicator, ordering up a bowl of "homemade" soup. Once he retrieved the bowl he found the small TV tray that he knew Bones kept in his room, mostly for Jim to use when he came to visit. He set the tray up in front of his friend and placed the soup on it. Once everything was in place he plopped himself on the bed, mostly just to keep the doctor upright.
Bones had eaten maybe four bites of the soup before he felt it start to creep up on him. He pushed the bowl away and made to lie down in the bed. Jim frowned, he knew the doctor needed to eat, but also knew he couldn't force him. Once he was settled in the bed, Jim cleaned up the rest of the soup and sat back in the desk chair to keep watch over the ailing man.
The rest of the afternoon went pretty much the same way. Jim kept watch, keeping tabs on the other's fever, which climbed several times and resulted in several trips by Dr. Oberon to administer various hyposprays to the slightly incoherent man. He watched as his friend was sick into the trashcan, more times than not, when he climbed to consciousness, and frowned severely as he watched the sleeping form tremble and sweat under the covers.
He watched all the way until 1700 hours when Spock showed up at the quarters. "Has the doctor's condition improved any since the last status update?" questioned the Vulcan.
Jim shook his head. "No, in fact Oberon says he'll probably get worse before he gets better. No one's exactly sure since there are not very many cases of a human with the Vulcan flu."
Spock nodded. "My shift on the bridge is complete, so I will take up watch here so that you may return to your own quarters."
"Why do I need to return to my quarters?"
"So that you may rest and partake of some nutrition."
Jim shook his head again. "I just ate, and I took a nap earlier. Besides, you've been on the bridge all day doing my work. Don't you want to go rest?"
The Vulcan shook his head this time. "I do not require the amount of sleep that you do, Captain. I certainly have enough stamina to keep watch over Dr. McCoy for a few hours."
"I'll be fine."
"You will do no one, especially the doctor, any good if you let yourself become physically worn out. I do suggest, however, that since we are simply traveling at this time that you and I watch over Dr. McCoy. I have already experienced this illness and you are already exposed. It would be the most logical choice."
Jim smirked; that man had a way with words. "Alright, Mr. Spock, you win." He headed out the door before turning around and eying his First Officer. "I must warn you, though. Dr. McCoy may be pretty pissed when he wakes up and finds you sitting by his bed." With that he exited the quarters, leaving the Vulcan sitting there with a slightly upturned eyebrow.
A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. I hit a block wall and had to take a couple of days to recover from the resulting concussion. (Metaphorically of course) I hope that this chapter stands up to the rest, and that Spock sounded….like Spock. Thanks for the reviews, and for alerting my story. It means a lot!
