O captain! dear captain!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

He looks exhausted, Spock thought. Leonard McCoy was speaking, blathering on, actually, about all the reasons he needed to stay right where he was. Most of what he was saying came out in slurred grasps of reality, not entirely full-formed in meaning, though he probably didn't realize. He also probably hadn't heard that he had actually repeated himself three separate times in the past five minutes alone.

"It would be better if you would rest," Spock interrupted, mid-sentence.

"I can't rest now!" He looked shocked. As best a Human could look shocked on no more than five hours of sleep in forty-eight hours, anyway. He babbled about the casualties. Too few doctors and too many patients. All the injuries by the Enterprise crew and he wanted to make sure they were all right.

Long and short of it, though, Doctor McCoy was being purposefully obtuse. Either that or lack of sleep had affected his judgment more than Spock had originally thought. "You are not the only doctor in San Francisco; I'm certain the others will get along fine without you."

"Damnit—Spock." He sighed heavily, rubbing at his bleary eyes before blinking repeatedly, looking around. Judging by the way he proceeded to squint up at him, however, he couldn't see very well. Nevertheless, he spun about, about to stalk off back down the hallway. "I'm fine; I'm fine. I gotta get back to work."

"Fine has variable definitions; fine is unacceptable," Spock said, and Doctor McCoy stopped mid-stride. Why Humans used that term in such a cavalier manner, as though it meant something, was beyond him.

When he whirled back around, somewhat unsteady, it was obvious he was going to argue more. It was always obvious when he was going to argue. He got this look in his eyes and a strange kink in his lips that Spock might have found condescending if he were so inclined. "I will personally advise you of any change in the captain."

"Don't you have something to do, Spock?" the Doctor growled. Or perhaps it was more a groan. He had been in a perpetually bad mood from stress and lack of sleep since this whole thing started and Captain Kirk's lack of progress in the last few days had done little for his outlook. Little for everyone's outlook.

But, much like Scott, Sulu, and Chekov had to be ordered to leave the Enterprise to the equally-as-qualified hands of other Starfleet engineers, Doctor McCoy needed some convincing that Spock's watchful eyes were just as good as his own. "I have reports to record," Spock answered, showing him the PADD he was carrying behind his back. McCoy eyed it like it was some kind of alien artifact. "I thought him impossible to disturb."

Doctor McCoy nodded, cleared his throat idly, and looked around. His eyes seemed to trace the corner of the floor and the wall. Spock looked, but saw nothing of interest there. This place was impeccably clean, as hospitals were wont to be. Sterile, quiet, empty of any vivacity. It was as though life didn't even exist here. Especially this part of the hospital.

"This is where people go to die, Spock," the Doctor whispered. "And they often do unless some miracle or higher power intervenes."

"Doctor," Spock tried to interrupt.

"We may be on the top floor, but it's just as easy a one-way trip from here to the morgue in the basement. Patients up here don't get the time because they aren't worth it; they'll probably die anyway, right?"

"Doctor McCoy."

"Especially now, especially with all the other patients that need help that can be saved. And far be it from me to have a God-complex, but I know I can save him even if that blood can't. Now that I have a chance. But it's a small chance. Infinitesimally small—do you understand that? But I can't if I'm not here, Spock."

Spock watched him for anything else he had to say. So he was finished. He was shaking, one finger jabbed down toward the floor as though the very spot he stood on were vital to the captain's survival. But he was fooling himself. If he lived then, he did. If not, then… Well, as a Human colloquialism put it, that bridge could be crossed when the road led to it. Or something like that.

"You are no help to him putting yourself through antique forms of torture," Spock pointed out.

"How the hell do you think I got through med school?"

He chuckled, then, not at all the finish to that remark that Spock expected. Humans were very… very strange when they were exhausted… Although, it was more than that, of course. It was also the shock. Much had happened in a single day, and two days hadn't put enough distance on the tragedy. Families all over the planet mourned the loss of loved ones while the community of San Francisco had already started to rebuild.

Individual lives were so much more delicate. A house of cards built to fall when one was excised.

"You may take my word that you will be notified at the slightest change. A tenth of a degree and I will call you."

"Promise?"

"I would not lie."

"Yeah, you would…" McCoy chuckled again, and made for the lift, albeit in a zigzag form.

Spock wondered if he would make it to his quarters all right. He decided not much could possibly happen between here and there, and besides that he would be quite angry at Spock for leaving the Captain alone. A tenth of a degree. Hopefully the doctor understood that he hadn't meant that literally. He hadn't been lying… merely "exaggerating." Doctor McCoy knew what that meant.

His way of getting used to the fact that his Human side was more dominant than he liked to pretend.

He went into the room where the captain laid under a white sheet, so high up in the city and lined with a bank of windows that any officer in Starfleet would love to have in his office. The cityscape was pristine, at least in this direction, dotted with sparkling lights under the night sky. The other side of the hospital offered a full view of the destruction that Khan had caused. Only to the city.

The real destruction was within these walls.

Spock sat down in the singular chair in the room, the one designated for visitors, and tapped on his PADD. Some were celebrating their avoided brush with death already, he thought, browsing the news and memos from Starfleet. A parade was in the planning stages, previously in celebration of an Earth holiday, but given the circumstances it had been changed slightly to include homage to the captain and the Enterprise. It would be ideal if he were awake for it, but Spock would settle for that he still be alive.

Before he knew it, twenty minutes had passed and he had not yet started on his report. He had decided to recommend commendations for the crew that had insisted to stay on the Enterprise during her darkest hours, despite his orders to the contrary. Illogical, but morally praiseworthy. They would have been recalled as heroes had they died, so why not as they lived, too? The same went for Jim… but he didn't need the boost to his ego as far as Spock was concerned.

Nevertheless, he was sure that he would be rewarded for saving the Enterprise, her crew, and countless others. He seemed to err on the side of heroics more often than not, and always against better judgment. Spock had traced through the possibilities of what might have and should have happened two days ago. He always came to the same conclusion: death was inevitable for the captain. So, perhaps he had known that…

However… that did not make it any more acceptable.