Christine came back about an hour or two later when McCoy was still bent over the information about the sample they were going to receive from the P'Jem.

"All work out well?" he asked, as she was hurriedly passing him. He meant it as a small peace-offering, remembering their little clash from earlier. He valued his head nurse for her professionalism as well as her fearlessness to defy him from time to time. It was a character trait not many nurses he'd worked with shared, but one he'd come to appreciate.

"Uh, yes," she said, halting in her step, then putting down her equipment to just stand there, a strange look on her face.

"And? Is Ensign Roma pregnant?" he asked, looking at his nurse who seemed … insecure for some reason.

"Yes, she is," she answered, quietly.

McCoy had seen it before. Many female ensigns tended not to jump for joy at the news of having to disrupt their career for at least a year or so, their pregnancies were mostly unplanned. Starfleet and family life did not go well together, even though there were some exceptions. However, almost all of the young women he'd seen in his career, had finally learnt to embrace the thought of being a mother. It was one of the last true wonders of nature, McCoy believed, and should be seen that way.

"That's good news, Christine, even though it'll mean Ensign Roma is going to have to put her career on hiatus for a while. We're all returning home in three weeks anyway."

"That's right," she replied, reaching for the bag she'd discarded on the floor again, never taking her eyes off him.

"She should make an appointment, so we can check her over," he continued, "I don't remember her. When did she come aboard?"

"She came while I was on leave," Christine said, letting go of the bag.

"Hm, don't remember her at all. Guess I'm getting old. Well, Chris, … what's wrong?" McCoy couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he knew his nurse was not happy.

"I … just tired, doctor. I'll check our schedule and make an appointment for her as soon as possible."

"She does want to keep the baby, doesn't she?"

"Yes."

"The father is part of our crew?"

"He is."

"And … he is not thrilled about the prospect of becoming a father?"

Christine smiled sadly at that, "He doesn't know."

"And she doesn't want to tell him?"

There was a pause, then she finally picked up the bag from the floor. "Doctor, it's none of our business, really."

McCoy got up from his seat to help her carry the bulky equipment.

"He has a right to know, don't you think? It's his child as well."

"Right. But it's not our decision to make."

"Well, no. But we can push her a little into the right direction. Unless, …," he paused, stopping Christine on their way to the storage room.

"She wasn't raped, was she?"

"No!" Chapel said firmly, "She just doesn't want to tell him. It's not right, it's a selfish and cruel thing to do, but there's nothing I can do about it."

McCoy eyed her curiously. This was really getting to her for some reason. She was becoming too involved in her patients' lives. It was a mistake many of his colleagues made, including himself on occasion. Of course, it didn't help that most of his patients were his friends. Actually, who was he kidding? They were his family, and the only one he had. It was an unhealthy situation.

"Have you decided on a field of study?" he asked, deliberately changing the subject.

"What?" she said distractedly, as they stowed away the equipment.

"For your career as a doctor."

"Oh. Uhm, no. Actually, I'm kind of reevaluating that idea again."

McCoy frowned. He would find out what was bothering her, sooner or later. "Miss Chapel. Three weeks from now, we'll see the end of our five year mission, and each of us is going to get a new assignment. I already dread the person who will replace you as my head nurse. She, or he, will be a pain to break in, I'm absolutely sure of that. I'm also already jealous of the doctor who will end up working with you, and I'm sure she or he is going to be a complete moron unable to appreciate your skills. So, do us all a favor, and change your profession. You'll be a better doctor than any of those starfleet, military, doctor wannabes."

She smiled at that, but it was a pained smile. They were interrupted by the intercom before he could prod further, much to Chapel's relief.

"Uhura to Dr. McCoy."

He turned abruptly, reaching for the comm button.

"Uhura, is the captain on the bridge again?" There was something he needed to discuss concerning the cell sample they were expecting.

"Yes, he is."

"I'll be right up," McCoy knew that if he had something to tell the captain, it was best to find him on the bridge, where he couldn't escape.

"I've got something to discuss with the captain, about that sample," he said, looking at Chapel apologetically, "using it might make things worse than they already are."

She just nodded.

"I mean, Spock isn't in any immediate danger, but it could well be that it'll take a lot longer to find an antidote than we originally thought."

"I'm sure there's a way," she replied, and again, McCoy frowned. She was acting strangely. Normally he knew exactly what she was thinking, but today …

"Right," he pointed towards his office, "I'll have some more research to do, but we'd better not use that sample. ... Okay, keep an eye on Spock!" And with that he left.

Chapel waited for another ten seconds after the doors had closed, and then entered the CMO's office, producing a disc from up her sleeve.