McCoy rotated the eggs twice more after surgery. First time they administered the freshly synthesized painkillers. The first few surgeries they hadn't had enough time in the labs to get anything more than a local anesthetic cooked up. Now... He sighed. Next time he'd use a topical, or a partial dose. Doe should have woken up hours ago.

If McCoy'd known that he might have been able to snag another eight hours in an actual bed-

Ventilators kicked in as Doe sucked in a deep breath.

"Easy, easy friend."

Arms flailed about, fingers clawing at the new flesh clinging to viability.

"Damnit Doe! Calm! Down!"

Two fingers snagged him on one side, the blunt end of the other arm on the other.

"See? Well, I guess not. It's just me. Your own person egg-rotation doctor. I need to look at your eyes, Doe. Give me a second here."

Doe kept the touch connection while McCoy reached for the tricorder. Considering the switch from continuous sight to none-

"There. You've got some swelling, but the nerves are in place. The skin is very new, very tender. I'm going to have to use a laser scalpel to open them the first time. When you first grew them, your stem cells had to give out a little order to kill off a specific set of their own number in just the right order... hell, not like you can understand even the dumbed down version. Just... there."

The moment he freed the first lid it began opening spasmodically. McCoy followed with the other before Doe could start clawing away at the ruined face again.

"It will take a moment for you to regain control. Just be patient."

Asymmetrical flickering slowed, centered, and then settled with one, long blink.

"There we go. Now, another one."

McCoy mimed a big one, and Doe followed.

"Excellent Doe! Now, open your eyes wide for me, and I'll snip your inner eyelid."

Snipping the inner one proved a bit more difficult, but with a bit of patience, Doe blinked properly for the first time in days. Outer eyelids thick, the opening horizontal like pretty much everyone else on the Enterprise. The second, inner set, slitted vertically. Doe seemed to work harder to get this unruly pair working in concert. One moment there'd be one eye closed, the other open with a vertical line splitting the member, the next the inner eyelids would both be drawn, coating the iris in a translucent film.

"This might hurt a little bit, Doe, but I want to make sure your tear ducts are working."

With a slow, steady hand, McCoy pressed into the large duct system with the pad of his thumb. Liquid welled up, bringing a smile to the doctor's own eyes.

"There we go. No more saline eyedrops, unless you want them of course. And you can control when you want to sleep, blink. Hell, you can even stop looking at my ugly mug while I work on you."

Doe's eyes did close then. Water filled the corners, welled along the seam, and trailed down two perfectly ruined cheeks.

"I'll leave you to enjoy it, Doe."

McCoy felt the familiar grip again. Doe released him a moment to flip through phrases Uhura had figured out and prerecorded.

"Please repeat that. Please show me a picture of what that word means."

McCoy sighed. "Which word?" Right, McCoy. That's going to work. "I'll... leave... you... to... enjoy... it... Doe-"

"Please repeat that," Doe tapped quickly.

"Doe?"

Again, his patient tapped that icon. McCoy shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, you can't tell us your name... Damn, here." He picked up the PADD, took a picture of his patient, and told the computer his nickname.

"Doe." The computer repeated, showing the picture.

McCoy turned it to his patient, regretting the moment those clear eyes widened until he could barely see the new lids, the fingers gripping the smooth plastic of the PADD, the fresh tears, the clack and clench of the bare teeth and jaw.

"Damnit Doe... I'm sorry. I should have thought... I've seen so much that you without skin that it doesn't phase me, but..."

With impeccable timing, the clock in his office went off.

"I've got to rotate the kids now, Doe. Damnit. Next thing I'm working on is your vocal cords. I can't stand this."

Doe glanced up at him, tapping the glass, before looking away and closing those new lids again.

McCoy took his time to do the rotations, beating himself up internally. He should have thought, should have realized. How many times had he ordered therapy along with grafting for even minor burns? Massage therapy, talk therapy, drug therapy... different ways for the patient to become used to their new skin, their new appearance.

There was no way McCoy could return Doe to the exact state as before, even if they had the databanks.

After doing one last check of his patient, he decided to give them both some peace and quiet.