Nurse Chapel didn't stop to ask any questions. As soon as she saw McCoy stagger into sickbay, looking washed out and distant, she commed M'Benga.

She watched McCoy avidly as she awaited the other doctor and was further alarmed when he didn't even notice her scrutiny.

When M'Benga stepped in and caught sight of McCoy he too didn't hesitate.

"Doctor McCoy. Your office please."

He used enough command to prompt McCoy into reacting without arguing but kept his tone light enough that the stubborn Georgian wouldn't dig his heels in. However he made sure to seat himself in the physician's chair just to make absolutely clear who was the doctor in this situation.

McCoy faltered as he stepped into his office to see M'Benga seated and then it twigged.

"Dammit Christine," he growled, although the nurse would not hear him in the sound dampened room.

"Sit down Leonard," M'Benga suggested.

"I didn't ask to see a doctor," he groused instead, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Leonard, you look like death," Geoffrey replied plainly.

"Goddammit! You try being pregnant and then…"

He winced as he realised what he'd said and hoped M'Benga wouldn't pick up on it. He promptly reassessed that thought and decided if Geoffrey didn't pick up on it he'd fire him for being a piss poor excuse for a doctor.

With a defeated sigh, McCoy dropped himself into the available chair.

"What's troubling you?" M'Benga asked softly.

There was a long pause as McCoy tried to find the words to explain.

"I've been having these dreams," he began awkwardly. He wasn't one to believe over far in too much meaning in dreams although he'd never dismiss them. But… "They've been very vivid… very real."

He stared at his desk, noticing all the odd marks it had accrued and idly remembering where they'd come from.

"Leonard. I won't record the details of your dreams – beyond that they're vivid and real – but as your doctor it would help me to know what they're about. I can only help you if I know what you're experiencing."

There was another silence as M'Benga waited to see what Leonard would decide.

"I dream it's real," he finally announced. "The pregnancy," he added to clarify.

M'Benga nodded and left the silence for McCoy to fill.

"In my dreams, I'm in a happy, stable relationship and we're both so happy about the baby. So damned happy. Its wanted and cherished and we're goddamn choosing names!" He broke off to try and get his emotions under control.

"You say 'we'," M'Benga noted. "Is it a recognisable individual? Or a homogenous partner?"

McCoy's eyes dropped to his lap.

"Recognisable," he responded.

M'Benga nodded and considered how far he should push this.

"I'm not going to ask who but tell me, is it someone with whom you've considered a relationship before?"

"Thought about, yeah. Pretty much out of my league though."

M'Benga studied McCoy as he would any patient, noting the vacant stare, the slump in his shoulders, the pallor of his cheeks, the slight weight gain from comfort eating…

"Vivid dreams are unfortunately another side effect," he commented. "It's natural for this condition to prompt thoughts of relationships and your hormonal imbalance is probably tending you towards moods of depression."

McCoy nodded, knowing all this already.

"Would you like me to prescribe something to help you sleep?"

McCoy shook his head.

"It's the waking up that's difficult," he admitted. "The dreams are so… nice. And waking up… realising it was all just… nothing…"

"I think you need to change your morning routine," M'Benga suggested. "You normally follow a callisthenics workout on your own don't you?" At McCoy's nod he continued. "Try meeting up with the captain for a joint workout. Perhaps swimming. You're a social creature Leonard. You need company."

McCoy took a deep breath and let it out, releasing some of his unease.

"Yeah. Pretty sure Jim'll agree to that." He made to leave but M'Benga stood and called to him before he could.

"Leonard. As your friend, I think you should talk to the captain about your dreams. If you can talk about whoever it is in your waking hours then you might be less afflicted when you're asleep."

McCoy hesitated.

"I'll consider it," he finally offered.


"This was a great idea Bones." Kirk caught the edge of the pool with a hand. "Why haven't we done this before?"

McCoy grinned.

"Nothing beats swimming for good exercise," McCoy informed him. "Your body works harder in water, it helps lower stress, improves cardiovascular function and because the water supports your weight it's great for pregna-" he bit himself off but the damage was done.

"For pregnancies," Kirk concluded. He looked hard at his friend. "Bones, I know I've teased but… you aren't pregnant."

"I know that," he snapped back, considering just pushing off from the side and doing some more laps. However the growing cramp told him it probably wasn't worth drowning just to avoid this conversation.

"What's going on Bones?" Kirk's voice held genuine concern.

McCoy stared vacantly across the empty pool for a long moment.

"I can't shake the feeling its real," he confessed. "I'm having vivid dreams where I really am pregnant… and when I wake up it's like losing a child. Day after day," he growled bitterly.

"Bones…" Jim could think of nothing comforting to say so he simply gripped his friend's shoulder. McCoy shot him a grateful look.

"I know it's not real… of course I do… but whenever I stop thinking for a second and just feel…"

Jim floundered.

"What does M'Benga say? Isn't there anything else to try?"

McCoy shook his head.

"Best guess is still that it'll wear off on its own. Couvade syndrome's hardly well documented. Some doctors still don't even believe it's real. There's no ailment to treat, especially now it's mostly just psychological effects."

"How long does it usually last? The whole pregnancy?"

"Can do but cases vary. It may last 38 weeks or be gone tomorrow. Your guess is as good as mine."

Jim nodded. He hated situations like this where he was so helpless.

"Well, at least I can keep you company in your morning exercise routine," he said with forced cheerfulness.

"And I appreciate that Jim."

Kirk turned to pull himself out of the pool when McCoy caught his shoulder.

"There's another thing," he spoke hesitatingly.

Jim turned back and waited, watching as McCoy's eyes sought strength from anything round the room.

"In the dreams… the ones where I'm really pregnant… well…" McCoy actually bit his lip before continuing. "The baby's Spock's," he finished suddenly.

"Spock's?" Jim replied dumbly.

"Yeah."

There were a lot of questions Jim suddenly wanted to ask about this but the way McCoy still wouldn't look at him told its own story.

"And you wouldn't mind that?" he suggested carefully.

"I don't want to be pregnant, Jim." McCoy snapped his eyes to his. "I'm not acting out a fantasy."

"Of course not. I didn't mean to suggest you're in any way pretending," Jim rushed to reassure him. "I just meant… you wouldn't mind being… in a relationship, with Spock?"

McCoy glanced away again.

"Probably seems crazy don't it? The way I rail at him about his pointy ears and green blood…"

Jim couldn't help from grinning.

"Actually, I think it makes a lot of sense."

McCoy glared at him suspiciously.

"And it certainly explains why you've not wanted to tell him about any of this. I think Doctor, part of you didn't want to give him the impression you might be knocked up by someone else."

"Now see here-" McCoy began before recognising the laughter threatening to burst out of his friend. "You're a bastard, you know that?" he said in a much milder tone.

"I'm sorry," Jim replied, smiling, both sincere and not at the same time. "But seriously Bones, even if you don't want to talk about the whole…" he waved a hand to indicate the whole sympathetic pregnancy business. "Why haven't you ever said anything about, you know, liking him?"

"Liking him? Jim, what are you? Five?"

It didn't escape Kirk's notice that McCoy was avoiding answering. But he wasn't ship's captain for nothing.

"Alright, Doctor. If not 'like', how would you phrase it?"

McCoy looked away, embarrassed, and decided to answer the original question instead.

"I haven't said anything because what would be the point? In the best case scenario he'd acknowledge I'm at the mercy of human emotions that can't be helped and be considerate enough to not let it change our current relationship. Worst case, he'd transfer or something to avoid having any ridiculous emotions interfere with ship's business."

"Anyone ever tell you that you have a very negative outlook at times?"

McCoy stared him down.

"You know I'm right."

"No. I don't think you are," Jim replied seriously. "He's been genuinely worried about you Bones. He's at least as fond of you as he is of me."

"You saying you think he'd date you?" McCoy arched an eyebrow in challenge.

"I could date anyone and you know it," Jim returned swiftly before turning serious once more. "I however, don't want to date him. We'd be terrible together. You two however-"

"Are not going to happen," McCoy completed promptly. He quickly waved off Jim's new complaint. "Look, Jim, even if there is a possibility – which I don't think there is – I am most certainly not going to approach him while I'm dealing with a phantom pregnancy. I've got enough on my plate as it is!"

Jim relented.

"Fine. I'll allow that perhaps now isn't the best time. But this isn't settled yet Bones," he added warningly.

"I'll look forward to that when things are back to normal," McCoy muttered. "Now, we'd best get out of the pool before we're so wrinkly Starfleet try and retire us."


When Spock stepped into sickbay, McCoy had a moment of forgetfulness and smiled warmly at him. He had just opened his mouth to ask how his day had gone when reality crashed back on him.

His mouth snapped shut and he blinked in alarm as he realised how close he'd come to calling Spock 'darling'.

"Are you feeling well Doctor?"

Spock had clearly noticed the unusual silence that greeted his arrival.

McCoy flushed and tried to remember just what it was he'd last told Spock about his symptoms. He had a memory of Spock massaging his aching back but he was pretty sure that had been a dream.

He rubbed at his head and decided to stick as near to the truth as he dared.

"Got a first class migraine coming on," he muttered.

"Then should you really still be working? I understood your shift ending 37.6 minutes ago."

McCoy waved a hand irritably.

"I had patients to finish with, I could hardly just leave."

"If you are suffering yourself it is illogical to-"

"Don't start damn well quoting logic at me." McCoy kneaded more vigorously at the sides of his head. "That only ever makes my head ache worse."

There was a pause but McCoy didn't dare look up. In his current confused state he wasn't sure he trusted himself.

"Is there not a medicine you can take for your migraine?"

McCoy couldn't help but look up with a wan smile.

"Yeah but I'd rather not keep dosing myself up."

Spock's blink showed his surprise.

"You are suffering headaches frequently?"

McCoy looked away again.

"Just had a lot on my mind recently. I'll be fine after a good night's rest." He purposely didn't add that he was unlikely to get a good night's rest. Not with his continuing vivid dreams.

"In that case I shall escort you to your quarters."

"I don't need a damned escort! I can find my own way there!"

His angry reply didn't faze the Vulcan in the slightest and he just stood waiting for McCoy. With a sigh, the doctor relented.

"Fine. Lead the way."

As they walked together out into the corridor, it finally occurred to McCoy to ask,

"What did you want in sickbay anyway?"

"In point of fact, Doctor, I merely visited to enquire after your health."

McCoy risked a sideways glance at his companion.

"Has my efficiency been slipping?"

"Not at all, however it is apparent that you are not getting adequate rest and appear to be suffering the effects as increased fatigue and aches."

McCoy waited for Spock to explain how this was detrimental to the smooth running of the ship but nothing else seemed forthcoming.

"So?" he prompted eventually.

Spock glanced at him.

"I would be willing to offer assistance in meditative techniques or muscle relaxation therapies."

The doctor looked quickly away. While the idea of Spock sitting with him in his quarters helping him relax… rubbing some of those aches away… was undoubtedly appealing, it was far too dangerous to allow. He'd nearly slipped when Spock had merely stopped by to say 'hello'. How much more likely was it when ensconced alone?

"I will keep your offer in mind, Mister Spock," McCoy responded truthfully, knowing the idea of a massage at Spock's hands would definitely stay in his thoughts. "But I think I just need peace and quiet tonight."

"As you wish. The offer will remain open should you reconsider at any time."

They remained quiet until they reached McCoy's quarters, and the doctor was about to let out a sigh of relief as he escaped, when Spock spoke again.

"Please make sure you eat something before sleeping, Leonard."

And with that Spock turned and left, leaving a stunned doctor stood in his doorway.