Author's notes: Chapter three has just been completed, as you can no doubt tell. I'd like to establish that this will be a long one. And rightfully so! So far my stories are too rushed (In my opinion) so I'm taking my time. Have a problem, take it up with the Muse Management Department. Thank you, and have a nice day/night/apocalypse.
Disclaimer: Don't ask, don't own, don't tell.
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Waiting was quite possibly the most boring thing in the world. Not knowing what was wrong with your patient was the worst feeling in the world, and having both those together at the same time was down right nasty.
Doctor M'benga had the great pleasure of experiencing all of the above plus an itch on his back he couldn't quite reach. He shifted from his left foot to his right, sighing deeply. He'd already sent Chapel to bed three hours ago, and the night shift was busy doing real work. Rubbing his arm absently he stared at the unconscious McCoy.
He was the second best Doctor on this ship, and the best conscious one. He had access to every medical journal that had been published so far. He could even call Starfleet commands' own top Doc. How, with all this knowledge, did he not know what was wrong? Or at least how to wake McCoy up? It was simply maddening, to be reduced to nothing at the face of something that seemed as benign as sleep.
He was about to administer a dose of something, anything! But he was distracted when the brown haired man sat up. Not suddenly, but slowly, as if taking his surroundings and waking up at the same time. He glanced around slowly, face impassive.
Slightly stunned, M'benga managed to stutter through a greeting. "Uh, Good morning." He shook his head, what was that supposed to be? He was a Doctor! Act professional. "I mean, how are you feeling?"
McCoy turned to face him as if he had never before heard sound. "Feeling?"
M'benga paused briefly, McCoy sound different. His voice was sort of flat, less accented. Actually, totally unaccented. He shook off his nostalgia and asked the appropriate questions. "Yes, any pains? Weakness? Anything unusual?" M'benga whipped out a medical chart and scribbled down McCoy's' waking time.
"Feeling? Unusual?" He paused as if tasting the words. "Yes," He looked shocked for a moment. "Yes, I have that."
The darker man pounced on the idea. "Where?"
Tapping his forehead, McCoy didn't use words to answer.
M'benga touched his hands to the other Doctor's forehead, feeling for any abnormalities. "Tell me if it gets worse, besides this anything?"
Not even acknowledging the statement or question, McCoy looked around. "Why am I here?"
M'benga couldn't find anything physically wrong, reaching behind him to grab a scanner he answered. "Well, from what I understand you were talking to the Captain and Mr. Spock. For some as of yet unknown reason you fainted. Captain called it in and two medics brought you in. We've been running tests ever since, but we didn't even know you'd wake up until you did." He paused to look at McCoy's unexpressive face. "Are you all right? I can't find anything wrong with your head, does it hurt anywhere else?"
"No, it doesn't hurt."
He paused a minute, expecting McCoy to go on, when he didn't he pressed a button on the wall.
"What's that for?" McCoy said, turning his head to see.
"Nurse." M'benga absentmindedly considered his chart. After a moment he paused, visible stiff. "You should know what that button was for. Did you hit your head?" The small scanner once again found itself waving over the mans head.
"I don't know, don't remember." He blinked, tilting his head as if looking at M'benga from a different angle would help.
"What's the last thing you do remember?" He stopped scanning to look McCoy in the eyes. "Before you woke up."
There was a long pause as McCoy visibly searched. "I… I don't know" He seemed shocked, a bit of emotion finally filtered through to his face. "I don't remember. Give me a moment."
M'benga gave him a minute; he took the time to push a button on the wall, a different one, the intercom chimed.
"M'benga to Captain Kirk, please respond."
There was a pause to short to be explained by anything but worried hovering. "Kirk here."
"Is Spock still with you?"
"He is."
There was a small 'that's not right.' From the man on the bed as McCoy scrubbed his eyes, clearly frustrated.
"Please come down here sir, and bring Mr. Spock too."
"What's the status?"
M'benga shook his head. "He's just waking up sir." He paused to hear a relived sigh. "But I need to talk to you, something isn't right. I think…"
He glanced back to McCoy. The man was now distraught, nearly to tears. He looked up to M'benga and mouthed the words: Who am I?
Unable to reply to the silent question, M'benga turned back to the comm. "I think we have a problem."