McCoy ran a hand over the mark over Jim's abdomen one more time before nodding to Chapel.
"He should be fine to move, just be careful," he said, running his hands under Jim's shoulders, noticing that some muscle mass was lost. He frowned, but decides it would be something to address later.
Chapel nodded her agreement on moving him and slipped her arms under his legs.
"On three," he murmured, "One...two...three-" both of them hauled Jim up and onto the hover-bed. Chapel's expression was troubled the whole time.
"Something wrong, nurse?" McCoy asked, nodding at the doctors to move him.
"Yes, doctor..." she mumbled in thought, "It seems as though he's losing muscle mass. Under his legs at least."
McCoy sighed, "I know, it's something I have to address with him."
I swear to god if he's not eating…
As the doctors carried him out on the hover-bed, McCoy caught movement from the blonde—only small twitches, while watching him.
"Bones…" murmured a voice from outside the door. One nurse leading the bed stopped and turned to look at McCoy for instructions.
He quickly strode up to them, gesturing for the doctors to drop the bed. They did.
"You're not supposed to be awake," he smirked, placing the back of his hand against Jim's forehead, "Good god man, you're a sauna!"
Kirk grimaced at the sudden loud noise from Bones' shouting and rolled his eyes upwards, trying to see where he was, and Jim instantly recognised what was happening. Two nurses were above him, and another one who stopped the movement was in front.
"Don't wanna be carried…" he muttered, trying to sit up now, "I can walk by myself…" he managed to sit upright before being manhandled down on his back by Bones.
Like hell you can.
"You're staying put on that hover-bed, I don't like your readings," he stated, gesturing the doctors to the door so they know to continue.
Jim let out a long groan.
"But I don't wanna be trapezed down the corridors! I'm supposed to be a role model… strong and…stuff…" he trailed off from exhaustion, letting his head fall back against the pillow.
"Uh huh. Look at ya, can't even keep your damn eyes open for more than a minute. Pick up the movement dammit, this isn't a taxi service!" the doctors hastily started walking faster, but only a few seconds passed before Jim's eyes shot open in awareness and the scanner in McCoy's pocket started vibrating for attention.
He didn't need to check it to know what was happening.
"My god, Jim, calm down!" he worried, reaching for the med bag over his shoulder and desperately trying to open it while keeping up with the half-sprinting doctors at the same time.
Jim flailed and tried to sit up again, then eventually managed to roll onto his side—too far.
Crash!
The Captain was now on the floor, scrambling to get onto his knees before they could grab hold of him while he was at a disadvantage.
"Dammit, Jim! What the hell's the matter with you?" McCoy immediately knelt down, giving a quick examination with his eyes to see if he'd somehow broke a bone from falling off a bed that was two centimetres from the ground.
Jim managed to sit on his knees, like a kid waiting for story-time at school, "I don't want everyone to see me like this." He stated simply. He looked like a child, but sounded so solemn. "Please, let me walk the rest of the way."
McCoy's lips fell into a thin line, unsure of what to do in this situation. His doctor-instincts told him to shove him back on that hover-bed and run the rest of the way as it'll be quicker, but the other side of him wanted to let Kirk walk, knowing how difficult the kid would find it being so exposed in front of all his crew.
Finally, he settled with going half-way with him.
"Alright," he gazed down to the floor, biting his upper lip. Jim looked up hopefully at him. "You can walk, but we're going straight into a cubicle when we get there and no stupid games, got it?" he couldn't stop himself from smiling when Jim's face lit up for something as miniscule as this.
"Yeah, sure, thanks Bones," he hastily tried to get to his feet, but stumbled back onto his knees, then tried again, but froze when Bones put a hand on his knee to stop him,
"Easy, easy. Take it slow," he muttered, then turned to the doctors, who were looking extremely bored around the hover-bed. "Didn't ya hear me? You can go, the kid's walking."
What followed was some hasty rapid slurs of "Yes sir" and three people eagerly darting off down the corridor with an empty hoverbed.
McCoy set his gaze back over to Kirk, who was staring intensely at the floor as if willing his legs to work.
"Don't tell me we just got rid of the porters when you can't even walk?" he sighed, exasperated.
Jim scoffed and placed a hand against the wall, his wrist shaking with the force of lifting his body up.
"I can walk, just… give me a second," Jim strained, pushing himself up with a loud "uggggh!"
McCoy shook his head, placing a hand on Jim's shoulder and tugging him along, "Come on kiddo, sooner we get there, sooner you can rest. We've got ten minutes of walking at least."
Jim grunted under the strain and pulled himself along, and in his head willed himself with the words one foot after the other.
…..
Three minutes later and Jim was half-way across the corridor, granted that if he left with the porters, he would be treated in a cubicle right now.
But nope, his stubbornness meant that he was still limping down the corridor, much to McCoy's concern. He was eying him persistently.
"Your knee hurts?" he queried, taking out a medical scanner from the med-kit he was holding. Jim shrugged, obviously not wanting to admit it.
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Jim mumbled, becoming frustrated with the incessant beeping from the scanner being hovered over him. If he wasn't struggling to keep his balance right now, the hand on the wall would instead be used to smack that scanner right out of his CMO's hand.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" McCoy teased, hiding the scanner away into his fist.
Jim scoffed, "Hell yeah I know that. When we gonna get there? Not that I'm thrilled to be there or anything, just, walking is kinda tiring."
McCoy offered a little smirk and rolled his eyes, "Nearly there kiddo."
As they continued walking, Bones noticed the scanner results were increasingly growing higher in numbers as the seconds went on. His heart rate had gone from 80 to 110 in less than ten seconds. Not to mention he'd gone completely silent.
In fact, upon closer inspection, Jim's eyes seemed to be travelling everywhere but ahead of him.
Frowning, McCoy gave a small tug to his arm, "Everything alright, Jim?"
It took a moment for the kid to process his words, but eventually he turned to look at him, then offered an obviously forced smile to his friend.
"M'kay, Bones, just wanna get this over with."
He nodded and let it go, not wanting to push him further.
….
Sickbay was now in sight, and Jim's face was undoubtedly vacant in expression. He glanced down at his scanner.
BPM 120.
He bit his lip, then glanced to Jim, considering hypoing him into oblivion and calling another stretcher for the mere minute that they had left to walk.
Another couple of steps…
Then another…
Then another…
He checked the scanner again.
BPM 135.
A few more seconds passed.
BPM 149
Jim's breathing started to turn into panting, and it wasn't because of exhaustion. The look on his face made it obvious that he was trying to hide it.
BPM 156
BPM 169
Shit.
"Jim—"
Kirk instantly jerked away from McCoy at the word and rammed himself up against the wall, his eyes wide with fear, hyperventilating like hell gone loose.
BPM 176
"Hey, hey, hey, kid—"
"Bones—Bones—Bones—Bones—" Jim panted desperately, trying to form a sentence past the first word. McCoy tried to tug him away from the wall but he refused.
"Easy, calm down now, the hell's happened?" McCoy whipped a hypo out of his pocket and tried to bring it to Jim's neck.
Keyword tried.
"Fuck—get that shit away from—from me," Jim breathed, darting across the wall and past sickbay. What the hell caused this?
"What's wrong, kid? Is it sickbay? I know you hate the place but you've never acted like this before, I mean I can't really do anything about it but—"
"Bones—he won't get out my head—the—the—Frank, he's in—in—my head—Bones—"
McCoy took a large step forward and took a firm grasp of Jim's wrist.
Jim was staring absentmindedly into nothingness, heaving sharp breaths and trembling.
"Listen to me...Frank's not here, Jim." McCoy slowly coaxed him, as if speaking to a terrified animal, for all the good it would do.
Jim let out a heartbreaking sob that wrenched at McCoy's heart.
"But he's in my fucking head!" he choked, shrinking down the wall until he was huddled into his knees, "He's in my head..." Jim raised a hand to his hair and scrunched a fist into it, shaking tremendously.
Carefully, McCoy tread over, kneeling beside him and hoping not to startle him.
"How long has this been goin' on for?" he gently urged, taking out his PADD. He had a feeling it'd been a while, considering this wasn't the first time Jim had acted like this.
His suspicions were confirmed however;
"Ever since I got back from shore le-"
McCoy glanced up from mid-typing in the PADD at Jim's pause and waited patiently for him to continue.
But it didn't look like he was going to get a good answer any time soon.
Suddenly Jim screamed, "You're not fucking real!"
Bones put a hand on Jim's shoulder, trying to bring him comfort, "Hey, hey, just try to relax, you're gonna be okay,"
"Guughh..."
"C'mon, Jim, I can figure this out in sickbay."
But Jim shook his head.
"I can't go to sickbay...I have to stay here."
McCoy sighed, "Why?"
"If I move then Frank will come back."
"Jim, Frank ain't going nowhere, and to hell with him if he thinks he's stepping foot inside my sickbay."
Jim took a long hard look at McCoy, wanting to believe him; wanting to believe that he could get rid of Frank once and for all, but a voice in his head told him no.
"Bones..." Jim whispered, "I just...I can't..."
Bones looked him in the eye for a second, there was no doubt the blonde was god damn terrified. Who wouldn't be?
"Alright," he muttered under his breath, reaching into his pocket for a hypo. Jim caught on immediately.
"No no no no no no-" he backed away further, his breaths returning in short gasps.
McCoy's heart clenched, "Hey, it's okay, come here," he coaxed, sliding the hypo between his fingers, "Frank ain't got nothing on me."
Jim eyed the hypo as if it was his ultimate doom. Was he scared of the hypo or scared sleep would make him hear Frank?
He was cut out of his thoughts when Jim started gagging, following by vomiting over himself seconds later.
"Alright...okay..." McCoy shuffled closer, turning the kid onto his side, "Jus' try n' breathe real slow for me kid."
Jim simply whined, his eyes screwed shut as bile dribbled out the corner of his mouth. He didn't feel the sting of a hypo in his thigh, and allowed himself to give into the exhaustion he was suddenly feeling.
"Dammit..."
...
McCoy flew into sickbay, hands clenched so tight onto the rails to the hover-bed that his knuckles were white, and the porters who were supposed to take the bed down themselves walked in five seconds afterwards.
Chapel darted out from an unknown cubicle to the left, grabbing the front of the bed and staring at the monitors that screamed a constant tone.
BPM 223 – Urgent assistance required. flashed up on the monitor in red, regardless of Jim's unconscious state.
McCoy swung the bed around into the nearest cubicle there was, "We need to get him stabilised, damn idiot's gonna end up having a heart attack !" he announced, the hoverbed hitting against the wall, leaving only the wailing alarms as ambience instead of being drowned out by the hum from a hover-bed in motion.
As a flood of other medical staff began to surround them, McCoy read off from the monitor.
Dammit. "There's an increased respiratory rate, blood pressure and he's obviously tachicardic,"
And if you didn't know that then get the hell out of my sickbay.
A doctor turned around to face him, "Should I bag him sir?"
McCoy nodded idly, "Yeah, yeah, if his resps get worse he might need ventilating." He managed to keep up a false façade of seeming in control and calm, which he certainly was not on the inside.
He was about to grab his PADD to write some notes when he was called again,
"Doctor?"
He glanced up from the PADD and found that Jim was starting to come around.
Again. Was it safe? He didn't have time to think it through properly before Jim realised where he was and started kicking viciously.
"Get the hell away from me!" he screamed, throwing the mask off his face and trying to climb out the bed.
McCoy stepped closer to him, "Hey, Jim? Look at me kid, look at me—" the thrashing stopped for a second as Jim gazed up at him, breathing hysterically and making strange noises through the wheezing.
"You're in my sickbay, you understand? No-one here's gonna hurt ya, I'm right here,"
Jim shook his head, and resumed thrashing around on the bed. McCoy's face looked grim as he pulled a stool up next to him, sitting down and trying to calm the damn kid down so that the medical staff could actually do something.
He sighed, "Alright, breathe in as slowly and deeply as you can, you hear me? Yeah? Jim? Breathe through your nose, real slowly now," he gave the kid a few seconds to adjust and attempt to correct the instruction, but after a few tries he started losing interest and tried to get out the bed again.
McCoy turned his attention to the nurse behind him, "This isn't working, forty milligrams of ketamine," he felt Jim tense up and grab onto his wrist.
"No." he refused shakily, well aware that the drug was a powerful sedative.
The last time Bones had used it on Jim was back at the Academy when he had a massive breakdown on the anniversary of Tarsus' first massacre. It was an event McCoy never wished to experience again, but lately Jim's behaviour had been even worse than back then.
Chapel put a hand on McCoy shoulder, "Would it be better if we used inhalational anaesthetic?"
McCoy shook his head, "No, stick with using it intravenously." It would be a lot quicker.
"I'll stay in bed, I swear!" Jim nearly shouted, trying his best to avoid being sedated. He hated being powerless, he hated people doing things to him while he couldn't see, and he hated feeling vulnerable.
McCoy chose to ignore him this time, deciding the constant babying wasn't doing him any favours.
While a nurse stepped to Jim's side and started pushing the ketamine through his IV, McCoy pulled Chapel aside away from everyone to speak alone. Her gaze was serious and unyielding, much like the mask that Spock always held.
"Chris, there's something seriously wrong with the kid." McCoy exhaled, staring at her intensely, "Once he's stable I want him in the neuropsychiatric scanner."
Chapel blinked incredulously at him for a second, "We've never had to do that for anyone on this ship…shouldn't we try something else first? Rule out mental conditions?" she folded her arms together, more in a form of comfort than to appear commanding.
"That's what the scanner can do," McCoy told her a little more forcefully than he'd wanted.
Chapel was unphased. "And that's why we have people with psychology degrees on board, like you."
McCoy grunted and turned on his heel to face Jim, who was now fast asleep thanks to him, and completely stable. A pang of guilt hit his stomach; perhaps he should've tried to be more patient instead of instantly sedating him.
"None of our lot has had to deal with anything like this before," he sighed, "Including me."
Chapel's voice fell to a harsh whisper, "That scanner is going to terrify him!"
Which was likely to be true, Kirk struggles to even sit for 5 minutes in sickbay, let alone lay in a giant noisy scanner for a whole hour.
"I'll find a way to keep him calm, I'll get Spock there or something."
"He can't be mind-melded with, you know that, it'll interfere with the results," Chapel urged, getting extremely frustrated now. She didn't know Kirk too well, but she was as protective of her patients as McCoy was—just a little more sympathetic.
"No, but I'm saying he can be there with him…" he paused, then turned to her and scowled, "I'm the CMO damn it, don't question me." and with a huff, he stormed back over to Jim side, reading the results for the fifth time, although already knowing he was stable. He knew Chapel was staring daggers into him from behind.
...
With his eyes relaxed and his expression soft, Jim remained awake, listening into conversations, enjoying the lack of medical interference. Except from the 'blood draw', whatever that was. He assumed it was to determine if he'd been poisoned.
It had fooled everyone so far, but his luck wasn't likely to last much longer.
Sometimes he heard Frank, telling him to do one thing or another, but he'd managed to keep himself calm enough to avoid attention.
Kirk took a gentle breath in, calming himself against the persistent alien voice.
Open your eyes, Kirk, let me see those baby blues.
So that you can watch me as I penetrate you.
His eyes shot open the same instant the monitors went wild—a persistent beeping that would drive a sane man nuts.
Hands latched onto his arms and his shoulders, and he tried desperately to shove them off, muttering words of comfort that his mind couldn't register.
Suddenly a larger hand pushed against his chest, affectively pinning him down on his back.
I can't wait to watch this, Jimmy. It's like watching myself.
Jim dug his palms into the mattress and screamed.
Yes! Yes! That's what I'm talking about, Jimmy! Scream all you like!
He screamed until his throat was hoarse, until his ears were ringing, trying to drown the voice out.
Two hands cupped his head, words vibrated through him but he couldn't process what was said. One hand left him, followed swiftly by a burning sting to his thigh.
He kicked his legs as if trying to knock the pain away, but seconds later the fog began to clear, and the screaming came to a stop.
Opening his eyes, he saw Bones- not Frank, standing over him with a concerned look upon his face. He let his head sink into the pillows, sighing at the seriousness of the situation.
Bones' expression forced into a smile, "Not one for subtly, huh?"
Jim wanted to kick around in a fit of rage, he was growing so restless. "I just want this to stop, Bones," Kirk croaked, letting his eyes fall shut again.
"Is Frank is the room with us?" Bones asked, gently nudging him to get him to open his eyes.
And Jim obeyed, wearily cracking them open and scanning the room with anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach.
"No" he replied in almost a whisper.
Bones nodded, then pressed a couple of buttons to raise the bed up into a partially reclined position without explanation.
He spun the stool away from him for a second, then returned with a ear thermometer, and stuck it in Jim's ear without hesitation.
He scowled at the CMO, "Booones, that's for babies!"
Bones scoffed under his breath, "Yeah, which is why I'm doing it with you."
"Don't you have those monitor thingies?" he sulked, glaring at his feet.
"Uh huh, but I'm just ruling out that this isn't a fever hallucination and the monitor just isn't reading your temperature properly," Bones explained, switching over arms to hold the device in Jim's ear.
Kirk continued to sulk in silence. He didn't feel hot at all, and he's had a fever before; this was nothing like it.
I remember when I used to gag you as a punishment, Jimmy. Oh, you were a pretty child.
Jim let out a shakily breath through his nose, gripping the handrails tighter in fear.
"Please, not now..." he muttered so quietly that it was a feat McCoy was able to hear him.
"What'd ya mean? Is this uncomfortable?" his expression were far gentler than he was used to. Perhaps the whole ordeal had scared him into having a good bedside manner.
Ha.
When I find you, I'm gonna fuck you so hard for running away from me.
A sharp inhale and a violent jerk.
"Hey, calm down, calm down, here I'm taking this out, see?" Bones removed the thermometer and almost looked disappointed at the results.
"Completely normal. Huh."
Here you are. Spread your legs for me.
Jim shot forward and vomited over himself.
"What the hell's the matter?" Bones leaned over to a trolley beside him and grabbed a basin, shoving it under Jim's chin, "Here now, what's-"
Jim gagged, then threw up again at the thought of Frank taking him.
"Bones-Bones I gotta...I gotta get out-"
"Alright, alright just relax, dammit..." he rolled out of his sight for a second, and Jim squeezed his hand around the railing as hard as possible, as if the pain was a distraction from Frank.
Bones returned with a hypo, grabbing his arm and was about to plunge it in, but Jim flinched away in time.
"Jim-"
"No, no hypo, just-no hypo...listen to me, Bones, listen...listen to me..." he rambled on, finding the talking was making Frank quieter.
"I'm listening." Bones replied firmly, lowering the hypo onto the tray next to him. Jim eyed it sceptically.
"Frank's here, okay? He's-he's found me, and he's talking to me, and-no no no, listen! No hypo! Listen...and we need to get everyone out of sickbay, okay? As discreetly as you can, just-just say the bridge needs them or something..."
Bones had his hand hovered over the hypo, debating whether to put Jim out of his misery or not.
He sighed. "Jim, you listen to me, kid, you're very very ill-"
"No! This is real, I know it is, I hear him, he-"
Jimm-yyy? Where are you Jimm-yyy? The voice sing-songed in his head.
"Jim?" Bones tried to get his attention back. Jim glazed his tired eyes over to Bones' face.
"We're gonna fix this, okay? I need you to come with me, can you stand? Nurse Chapel!"
...
McCoy subtly side-glanced Kirk with his hand hovered over a hypo, as the kid ranted on about how everyone needed to evacuate sickbay.
"Just-just say the bridge needs them or something…"
McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, and sighed. He needed to find the cause of this and fast.
"Jim, you listen to me, kid, you're very very ill—" but was interrupted by more panicked ranting,
"No, this is real! I know it is, I hear him, he—" The kid suddenly trailed off and stared into the distance.
McCoy frowned, scooting closer, "Kid? Hey," he waved a hand in front of him but Kirk still seemed dazed. A list of symptoms sprawled through his head, absent seizures perhaps? "Jim?"
Then the kid's blue eyes lit up in recognition and tried to find the location of his voice, slowly turning his gaze towards him.
Bones took a deep breath, deciding to go with what he had in store for him earlier.
He's gonna hate me for this, but it's for your own good, kid.
"We're gonna fix this, okay? I need you to come with me, can you stand? Nurse Chapel!"
Jim blinked at him tiredly, but nodded. Chapel came up to McCoy from behind as he stood up from the stool.
"Doctor?"
"Yeah? Yeah. Help Jim to stand," he ordered, grabbing his PADD and the med-kit lying half open on the tray beside him, "He's going in that neuropsychiatric scanner, whether he likes it or not."
Ooh, so things are finally starting to go down! I can assure you that the title of the fic will start to make sense after a couple of chapters, we're getting to the mid-point, folks.