Title: There Were Days (11/16)

Author: Still Waters

Fandom: Star Trek TOS

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just playing, with love and respect to those who brought these characters to life.

Summary: McCoy is critically injured and Christine Chapel does what she does best. A character study of Leonard McCoy and a look into the world of the Enterprise medical team.

Notes: Thank you for your kind reviews and feedback as I explore this world - I appreciate your continued support of the sickbay staff and their story. Please excuse any blatant errors – this chapter is 23 pages in MS Word and was written in an overnight marathon. The characters were more insistent than usual while I was writing this chapter – I hope I was able to do them credit. Medical notes are at the end of the chapter as usual.


Johanna woke up several hours later with a stiff neck and the vivid memory of familiar singing. Reveling in the echo of the dream, Johanna allowed her mind to slowly take in the waking world – the quiet beep of the medical monitors, the hiss of a hypospray, the steady rise and fall of her father's chest and…singing?

Johanna resisted the urge to sit up and rub her eyes, focusing instead on the voices. A strong, soulful woman's voice sang an achingly familiar melody in a foreign language. A few bars later, an earthy tenor tentatively began to harmonize, growing stronger as the accent lost itself in yet another strange tongue. As the tenor quietly dropped off, the woman's voice continued alone, moving seamlessly into English.

"Summertime and the living is easy…fish are jumping and the cotton is high…."

Tears sprang to Johanna's eyes. She struggled to remain still, swallowing hard against the sudden sob lodged in her throat.

"….one of these mornings, you're going to wake up singing…..then you'll spread your wings and take to the sky…..but 'til that moment, there's a'nothing can harm you….with daddy and mamma standing by….."

Tears were streaming down Johanna's face as the sob finally broke free. She buried herself further into her father's chest as a surprised Scottish burr asked, "Johanna? Are ye all right lass?"

Johanna pulled herself upright with shaking arms, sniffling loudly, not even bothering to try and wipe away the tears coursing down her cheeks. "That song…." she choked out. "How do ya'll know that song?"

Scotty looked to Uhura.

"The computer suggested it when I was looking for old-Earth songs," Uhura explained gently. "It sounded like something Dr. McCoy might know. I was hoping it would comfort him. I'm sorry if it upset you, sugar."

Johanna shook her head vehemently. "No," she insisted, "it was beautiful. What languages were you both singing?"

"Swahili," Uhura said quietly.

"As fer me, 'twas an old dialect of Scots," Scotty said. His face suddenly twisted into an apologetic cringe. "I'm sorry ye had to hear my so-called singin'," he sighed, "I just couldnae resist joinin' in."

Johanna laughed around another sob. "Daddy used to sing me that song every night when I was little. It was my first memory of him and he'd always swear he was sorry for makin' my first memory one of his awful singin'!" Johanna laughed again around her tears, her voice growing stronger as memory won out over current fears. "An' I always told him that I didn't want a singer's voice, I wanted my daddy's voice. Whenever he sang that song, it just made everythin' all right." Johanna's eyes drifted in memory as she smiled fondly at McCoy through her tears. "My second month in nursin' school, I had such an awful day…I saw a young momma bleed out in front of me. After talkin' about what happened and the mechanics of why it happened, I brought up suggestions for helpin' treat arterial ruptures in the future and my instructor wouldn't listen to any of them. She said my ideas were ridiculous and that we could only work with what we had. I told her I was taught different and when she said that whoever taught me was an idiot, I guess I'd kinda had enough. I yelled that she had obviously never met my daddy and if she ever did, he'd teach her a thing or two. Then I ran out of the hospital." Johanna chuckled bitterly. "I thought for sure that there was gonna be my last day of nursing school. I ran home and left a message for Daddy. My momma helped – Daddy always said she could hug the rain out of a stormy day and leave nothin' but the sun - but I knew Daddy would get it – he'd rant about it with me, then help me figure out how to make it better. Turns out he listened to my message right before a badly injured landing party beamed back up. You know what he did? He called me back from the operatin' room in between patients. He told me everythin' was gonna be all right, that we'd talk about it, but that what I really needed now was to rest…..and he sang me that song as the staff was triaging and figurin' out who to bring him next." Johanna smiled, running her fingers lightly across her father's arm. "An' it worked. I fell asleep and when we talked later, after he had taken care of everyone…well, everythin' was all right."

Johanna looked up to find Scotty suspiciously moist-eyed. Uhura swiped lightly at her eyes.

"What the hell is this?" Mara's voice boomed as she came back into the room. "I leave you guys alone for five minutes and everyone ends up crying?!" She walked to the bedside and double-checked the monitors and machines. The alarms would have sounded if something serious had happened, but alarms had been known to fail. Satisfied that McCoy was still physically stable, Mara met Johanna's eyes. "Everything okay, kiddo?" she asked quietly.

Johanna nodded.

"Good," Mara blew out a breath. "Because I sure as hell don't want Leonard thinking we made his daughter cry while he was unconscious."

Uhura rolled her eyes. "You're not that horrible, sugar," she chuckled.

"Damn, guess I have to try harder," Mara muttered.

Johanna ducked her head as she snorted back a laugh.

Mara grinned at Johanna's smile. "Well, my work here is done," she said, pleased with herself.

"Aye," Scotty smiled appreciatively.

Johanna looked back up. "Mara, do you know what the plan is for today?" she asked.

Mara stifled a yawn. She and Chris were sharing the shift again, swapping brief nap periods. Even though McCoy was stable enough that he didn't require two nurses at this point, they continued dividing his care, both too committed to the treatment at this stage to leave, while Elise, Tom, and Jack helped cover the main sickbay shift. Christine was due back in a few minutes. Clearing her head, Mara nodded at Johanna. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure Chris wants to kick some ass today," she grinned.

Johanna's eyes brightened.

"I heard her talking to Dr. M'Benga about getting rid of the sedation and trying him off the ventilator completely today," Mara continued. "He's stable enough now that it's time for him to really wake up so we can see what's going on."

"Agreed," James Kirk's voice filled the room as the ICU doors swished shut behind him and Spock.

Mara rolled her eyes. Sometimes she swore the room was bugged. News was notorious for traveling fast on a starship, but there were times, like this, when people knew things before the thought was even finished coming from the source's mouth. It could be downright ridiculous sometimes. "Good morning, sir," she finally directed at Kirk.

"Morning, Mara," Kirk returned, before taking a seat next to Johanna. "You doing okay?" he asked quietly.

Johanna nodded, smiling at Uhura and Scotty. "Yes, Captain, thank you," she replied.

"Please, Johanna, it's Jim," Kirk said.

Johanna frowned. "Sir, you're the Captain of the Enterprise….it's just not proper to call you by your first name," Johanna insisted. She had been raised to be respectful of everyone, especially her elders. Even when her father's colleagues, who had known her since she was born, insisted on her calling them by their first names when she saw them at the hospital, or around town, Johanna just couldn't break the habit of using their title.

Johanna watched as Spock's eyebrow went up and he gave an almost imperceptible nod. Kirk turned and shot the Vulcan a look, as if to say 'don't tell me I have to deal with this again – it took long enough to convince you otherwise.'

Kirk sighed. He took Johanna's hands in his own, squeezing gently. His eyes met hers and Johanna was surprised at the intensity there. "Johanna," Kirk started. "When I'm on the Bridge, when the ship is in danger and some alien race we've never met before is demanding to speak to the leader of this vessel, I'm the Captain. But when I'm in here, in sickbay…..when I'm with Bones…I'm Jim. There's a difference…..and if this is about respect…. well, I ask you to respect that."

Johanna swallowed at the emotion in Kirk's face. "All right, Jim," she said softly. Kirk let out a relieved breath and let go of her hands. Johanna's eyes twinkled. "But if Daddy hears me callin' you Jim, I'm gonna tell him what you just said," she grinned.

"Understood," Kirk chuckled. He glanced up as the doors opened and Christine and M'Benga walked in.

Christine glanced around the room, immediately noting the dried tear tracks on Johanna's cheeks. She caught Johanna's eyes and gently nodded the younger woman to the corner by the door.

"I'm okay, Chris," Johanna assured Christine before the nurse even had a chance to ask.

"You sure?" Christine asked, eyes narrowed slightly in a combination of disbelief and concern.

"Well, as fine as I can be with all this goin' on," Johanna clarified, glancing back at her father's still form. She looked at Christine again. "Miss Uhura and Mr. Scott were singin' a song that reminded me of when I was a little girl. I started telling stories and got a little emotional, that's all."

Christine nodded, understanding. "All right," she said quietly, squeezing Johanna's arm gently before walking with her to the bedside.

"Mornin' Len," Christine greeted McCoy with her customary kiss. "Time to wake up," she said softly, turning off the sedation and standing by the ventilator as M'Benga explained the plan to everyone.

"Well, I'll just be wishin' the Doctor good luck then," Scotty said, standing up to leave.

"You don't have to leave, Scotty," Kirk assured the Engineer.

"Aye, but too many faces could be a mite overwhelmin'," Scotty said simply.

Christine smiled at his thoughtfulness.

Uhura kissed her fingers and laid them gently on McCoy's hand. Catching Christine's eyes, she nodded at the promise of a full report later before taking Scotty's outstretched arm and leaving the room.

"Does anyone have any questions?" M'Benga asked Johanna, Kirk, and Spock.

Johanna shook her head, scooting closer to McCoy's side.

M'Benga nodded at Christine. She turned off the ventilator and leaned over to remove the mask.

"Sat's holding at 97%, resps 16," Mara reported.

McCoy groaned softly, his head lolling to the left.

"Daddy?" Johanna called. "Daddy, it's Jo. Open your eyes," she said firmly.

With a heavy sigh, McCoy's eyes fluttered open, locking onto Johanna. His eyebrow quirked as she smiled at him. "Yep, I'm still here," Johanna grinned.

McCoy cocked his head slightly, his gaze never wavering. He drew in a breath, coughed, and tried again. Successfully managing a deep breath, his tongue darted across dry lips and he opened his mouth.

Nothing happened.

McCoy frowned, eyes narrowing in concentration. He tried again.

Nothing.

Christine watched McCoy's respirations increase as his mind struggled through the problem. He attempted to raise a hand to Johanna's face, but only succeeded in moving his arm a few millimeters off the bed before it fell back to the mattress heavily.

"Daddy?" Johanna asked nervously. She looked to Christine. "What's wrong?" she demanded.

Christine stepped forward, waiting for the scream of the alarms. Waiting for the panic.

It never came.

McCoy's eyes dulled. They swept the room once, lingering for a moment on Johanna's worried face, then closed heavily.

"Daddy?" Johanna's voice rose as she shook McCoy. "Daddy, wake up," she half-sobbed. When he didn't respond, she whirled on Christine. "What's going on?" she asked hopelessly, tears streaming down her face.

Christine swallowed hard. "He's giving up," she said, not believing the words even as they came from her mouth.

"What?!" Johanna cried. "Why?!"

"He was unable to speak, or move well," M'Benga spoke up quietly. "I believe, in that moment of despair, that Leonard refused to believe any of it, including us, was real. He won't respond because he's shielding himself from that pain, in a sort of self-imposed unconsciousness."

"Oh no you don't," Johanna growled through her tears, throwing herself across McCoy's chest. "Don't you dare try and hide on me."

Kirk finally managed to speak. "What can we do?"

Spock stepped forward quietly, clasping his hands behind his back. "Doctor, if I may…." he began.

M'Benga nodded, gesturing for Spock to continue.

"A mind meld may prove beneficial in returning Doctor McCoy's mind to a conscious state," Spock said.

Johanna lifted her head.

Kirk frowned. "Bones isn't fond of mind melds when he's conscious and healthy, Spock," he pointed out quietly. "Do you really think it's wise to attempt one now?"

Spock sighed heavily. "I do not wish to attempt a meld without first obtaining the Doctor's permission," he admitted, "but, in this case, there is an 80.62% chance I will be successful, thus making it the only logical option left. If I can make contact with McCoy's mind, I can assist him in understanding what is real and what is not."

Christine's eyes flickered from McCoy's face to Spock's. "And you'd be able to talk to Leonard if his language abilities were functional in any other way," she said slowly.

"Correct," Spock acknowledged. "If Doctor McCoy's difficulty lies in translating language from thought to action, we would be able to converse unimpeded in his mind."

Johanna bit her lower lip nervously before straightening with the assurance of decision. "Do it," she said to Spock. "If he can talk to you, he can help explain what's wrong." She locked eyes with Spock. "You be his voice, Mr. Spock," she said firmly. "Tell us what's wrong so we can fix it."

Christine nodded as M'Benga caught her gaze. "The scanners can't tell us anything at this point," she pointed out, "so getting Len to tell us what's wrong is our best bet. Who better to diagnose him than himself?"

M'Benga glanced at Kirk, who nodded his agreement. "Go find him, Spock," he said quietly.

"Please proceed when you are ready, Mr. Spock," M'Benga said.

Johanna watched as Spock leaned over McCoy, lightly mapping out the contact points on the physician's face.

Fingers in place, Spock pressed down.

The ICU disappeared.


"Doctor." Spock's voice resonated through the darkness.

Silence.

"Doctor McCoy." The darkness was unsettling. Spock had melded with McCoy before, and he never had to search for the physician's essence. McCoy's mind was usually, quite literally, illuminating. McCoy's sheer passion for life was a supernova, blinding light and searing heat, as native to each of his cells as the finely honed organelles and just as vital. The darkness from which supernovas were born rippled just under the surface, the gentle rush of waves on a primordial lake, equal parts sorrow, comfort, and prescription. It was McCoy's humanity that always kept Spock from reeling – that gently powerful, earthy humanity tempered the heat of the supernova, found understanding and acceptance of the darkness, and left McCoy's mind a brightly lit place of passion, brilliance, attentiveness and, even in the midst of the human's staggering capacity for illogic…..peace. Vulcan's wise sun and Georgia's fresh breeze.

As the seconds passed, Spock felt the subtle thrill of fear in his chest. He knew that only 20.4 seconds had passed since he first entered McCoy's mind, but he also knew McCoy. The darkness was wrong and as much as McCoy grumbled about "damn Vulcans messin' around in each other's heads", the physician respected the practice, saw its therapeutic values, and most importantly, always responded to Spock during a meld.

Spock acknowledged the fear for what it was – a strong emotion and a valid one, but not conducive to the task at hand. He recognized its existence with Amanda's humanity and dismissed it with Sarek's logic. It was illogical to deny the feeling, for it did exist, but it was equally illogical to let such a thing reduce his efficiency. He could not afford distractions – he needed to find McCoy.

Spock began probing deeper in a careful balance - pushing against the darkness while respecting the physician's innate privacy.

16.8 seconds later, he felt McCoy go rigid under his fingertips.

"Doctor McCoy!" Spock shouted over the sudden flood of panic in McCoy's mind. "Doctor, it is Spock," he stated firmly, hoping the familiar name would bring the physician past the surge of emotion.

McCoy fought harder.


The alarms screamed.

"What's he doin'?!" Johanna yelled, lurching across the bed to push Spock away.

Kirk grabbed Johanna's arms, holding her back. "No, Johanna, don't!" he shouted breathlessly.

"Get your damn hands off me," Johanna growled, tearing herself out of Kirk's grasp, sprawling across McCoy's chest.


Spock frowned as a split-second image of a bearded Vulcan flashed through McCoy's jumbled mind at his words. Bringing all his focus onto that moment, Spock realized that he was looking at a remarkably similar version of himself – one with facial hair, a cold stare… and the ability to strike fear into Leonard McCoy's heart.

The mirror universe. There was only one thing a barbaric version of himself could have done to elicit such terror from McCoy….. and rightly so – how the physician had managed to hide such a violation, Spock couldn't even begin to understand. Pushing through a surge of nausea, Spock grabbed the image of the mirror Spock as it flew by again on a dangerous current of fear. Tucking the memory aside, Spock focused all his attention on projecting an image of his true self to McCoy's fracturing mind.


Johanna lunged for Spock again as McCoy began shaking, gasping for air.

M'Benga stepped forward from his place across the bed. "Johanna, you cannot terminate a Vulcan mind meld," he said firmly, forcing himself to keep the alarm at her attempts to separate Spock and McCoy from his voice.

"The hell I can't!" Johanna countered.

"Johanna, let me finish," M'Benga kept his voice firm, but calm. "It is dangerous for both parties if their minds are separated before they are ready. The initial contact can be a shock. I'm certain Mr. Spock is reassuring Leonard that he is only there to assist in his recovery."

"I don't care if Mr. Spock's got the healing hands of the good Lord himself," Johanna's angry shout faltered as a sob lodged in her throat. "I'm not gonna sit here and watch him hurt my daddy," she choked.


"Doctor McCoy, it is Spock," Spock repeated, replacing the fear-tinged image of his mirror universe counterpart with a neutral image of himself on the Bridge at his station. "I am not here to harm you."

A flash of uncertainty overrode the fear, before McCoy succumbed to the terror again. Latching onto that moment, Spock gently began adding images of time he and McCoy had spent together – triumphant success in the medical labs as they found a cure for a virulent new strain of Rigellian fever, hour-long philosophical debates on the Bridge subsequently ended by Uhura's sighing laughter telling them to take their arguments elsewhere, quiet evenings of chess and drinks with Jim where McCoy began to make Jim think he was drunker than the Captain really was while Spock certainly didn't play along, but also failed to correct McCoy's obvious exaggerations.


McCoy let out a shuddering breath and his body went limp as the violent shaking dissipated into subtle trembling. Johanna felt her heart stop as an agonizing ten seconds passed before McCoy took in another breath. Her heart stuttering in her chest, Johanna reached for Spock again.

Christine slid smoothly onto the bed next to Johanna. She shot a quick 'don't interfere' glare to everyone else in the room and Kirk watched, fascinated, as Christine's eyes immediately softened. She turned to face Johanna, stooping slightly to meet the young woman's eyes, matching her position to Johanna's – one hip against McCoy's trembling form, her knees turned inward, lightly brushing Johanna's. "Jo," Christine said quietly. Kirk watched as Johanna focused on that one, soft syllable, filled with emotions he couldn't even name, and moved out of the chaos and into Christine's understanding.

Meeting Johanna's eyes, Christine took the young woman's hands gently and began absently running her thumb over the backs, as Johanna had done for McCoy. "Give him time," Christine murmured reassuringly, her hands continuing to anchor Johanna, her eyes never wavering from the familiar, panicked blue. No one else existed in that moment. "Leonard may hate this, but he trusts Spock. Spock would never harm him and he knows it."

"But….." Johanna croaked, leaning into her father a little more.

"But, he's freaked out,' Christine filled in, her voice never wavering from its low, soothing tone. "His brain's muddled from prolonged unconsciousness, he probably still thinks you're a hallucination, and now he's got another voice in his head. Give him time. Spock will help him understand."

"But if…" Johanna started again, weakly.

"But if Spock can't help Leonard understand, he'll leave – a meld may be the most logical option at this point, but Spock respects Leonard too much to follow logic alone. If continuing will put Leonard at greater risk or if Leonard tells him to get out, he'll get out." Johanna drew in a breath, but before she could even ask, Christine's voice changed almost imperceptibly. The low, soothing tone hardened ever so slightly – a hard winter frost hidden by the softness of a shining sun. Christine's compassionate eyes allowed just a hint of dangerous promise. Dropping her voice so only Johanna could hear, Christine spoke. "And if he didn't," she flicked her eyes briefly toward Spock, "I would take him down. Regardless of how I feel about him. If he hurt Len, I'd take him down."

Johanna nodded slowly. She felt no fear at Christine's calm, matter-of-fact promise. Johanna had no doubt that if Spock were to put McCoy in danger, that Christine would use any physical or chemical means necessary to stop him…..and that she would succeed. She would assault the Vulcan she loved with her heart to protect the man she loved with her whole being. Johanna didn't even know why the doubt had crossed her mind - her father always spoke of Spock with a strong undercurrent of respect. She chalked it up to protectiveness and worried nerves, but Johanna still found herself letting out a breath, both relieved at the confirmation of an ally and touched by the devotion there.

The sun overtook the frost as Christine's voice resumed its soothing tone and her eyes softened, the innate healer's nature shining through. "We won't have to though," she said with a knowing smile, "because it'll never happen." Christine squeezed Johanna's hands firmly and nodded at McCoy.

Johanna suddenly became aware of the room again as she pulled her eyes from Christine. The room was silent except for the steady beep of stable vital signs. McCoy's chest rose and fell evenly, all traces of respiratory distress and tremors gone.

"See?" Christine smiled. "You'd never know it listening to them argue, but they do actually listen to each other."

Johanna snorted back a laugh, swiping furiously at her running nose as the laughter threatened to dissolve into tears again.


Spock felt McCoy's mind ease as the positive images took hold. "Doctor, it is Spock," he repeated clearly, reinforcing the reassuring memories. "I will not harm you," he stated firmly. "I am here to assist you, but if you find my presence….unsettling…..I will leave. If you believe I may cause you harm, ask me to leave and I shall comply. I am not here to take…only to give, should you desire it."

A flicker of light touched the darkness – a tentative candle in an overwhelming storm. "Spock?" McCoy's voice ventured shakily.

"Yes, Doctor, I am here," Spock replied. "No harm will come to you in this place."

The candle faded away as McCoy's mind lightened softly. Spock was reminded of McCoy's standard migraine adjuvant for Jim – "lights, 25%" would always precede the hypo, and Jim always swore the eerie "not quite light, not quite dark" lighting helped immeasurably. The tentativeness of the low lighting was still unnerving, but quite logical, from what Spock had seen. Even a full-blooded Vulcan would fight a familiar friend's meld after being subjected to such violation.

It was difficult to explain what occurred during a mind meld. Those who had not experienced the joining of minds could not truly understand how the participants both "saw" and "didn't see" each other in physical form, how they spoke without speaking and heard even the smallest vocal inflection without hearing. So, when Spock heard McCoy's shattered voice and saw his dull eyes in that "not quite light, not quite dark", it was difficult to explain the concern that surged through him from what, according to neurology, he actually "didn't see" and "didn't hear."

"Spock, that really you?" McCoy's small, unsure voice barely rose above the darkness. He let out a breath; half-laughter and half-resignation. "As if my hallucination'd tell me that he wasn't real," McCoy chided himself. "Well, you might as well stick around – beats talkin' to myself, even though that prob'ly exactly what I'm doin'," McCoy muttered tonelessly.

"Doctor McCoy, you may not believe your senses at this moment, but I can assure you that I am substantial, that I am real," Spock stated.

"Sure you are," McCoy sighed. He took a step forward and Spock was hit with the full measure of the physician's despair as dull eyes closed in a lifeless face. McCoy scrubbed his hands across his face, his voice muffled by his palms. "I'm not gonna argue the point Spock," he sighed. "I've gotta hell of a headache – seems appropriate that losin' your mind would hurt like hell, doesn't it?"

"Doctor, I am not here to add to your deluded manner of thought. You will cease this illogical fallacy immediately – we have work to do," Spock said firmly.

"Illogical fallacy?!" McCoy's voice rose familiarly, "Why you green-blooded…nothing makes a damned bit of sense.…..it's like I'm tryin' to talk but nothin's comin' out…I can't move, I can't think straight," McCoy growled that last bit, dropping his hands to his sides helplessly, "…..I'm even thinkin' Jo's on the Enterprise," he laughed bitterly at that before bringing challenging eyes up to Spock, "and now I've got you, in all your logical glory, insisting that I repent my evil human ways, throw away my quite warranted emotion, and listen to whatever wisdom you've come to impart." McCoy sighed heavily and it was the sound of a man with nothing left. "Well, Mr. Spock," he drawled tiredly, "you sure as hell ain't no angel, so take your sermon to another of God's creatures, 'cause I'm tiahd." Spock could barely make out the last word through the thick Georgian drawl as McCoy sank to the floor, as if the admission alone sapped all the energy from his body.

Spock clasped his hands behind his back, drawing in a breath to continue the argument. As he had suspected, the insult had succeeded in drawing McCoy out, but it wasn't enough – the physician was withdrawing again. The lights had flashed to 50%, but immediately darkened again at McCoy's resigned exhaustion. McCoy was on the floor, slumped over drawn-up knees, as if by making himself as small as possible, he could avoid the pain surrounding him. Spock was suddenly reminded of Lt. Rivers, a security officer who had lost his fiancé on Viridian III. Spock had been with Jim when the Captain informed the lieutenant, recovering from a concussion in sickbay, that Lt. Karsters had been killed on the planet. Rivers refused to believe the Captain's report, throwing himself off the bed despite McCoy's vocalization of alarm, and stumbling to one of the darkened ICU rooms, throwing up violently before collapsing against the wall and sliding to the floor, adopting the position McCoy was currently in. McCoy had followed Rivers silently. Without a word, the physician had entered the dark room, covered the vomit with a towel, then sank to the floor directly across from the sobbing lieutenant, leaving only millimeters between them. The two men were mirror images, but where Rivers was hugging his knees, face buried, closed off, McCoy was cross-legged, gently watching the top of Rivers' head, completely open. When Rivers had finally looked up, McCoy was ready, not insisting on anything, simply present. The lieutenant threw himself into that openness, pouring out his grief, and McCoy, never leaving the moment, silently waved Kirk and Spock away, knowing they had been hovering at the door without even turning around.

Spock let his hands drop to his side before striding over to McCoy. Drawing on the memory, he sank gracefully to the floor, mirroring McCoy's cross-legged, open posture with Lt. Rivers. He moved forward 1.3 millimeters, so that his shin just barely touched McCoy's foot.

McCoy's head jerked up at the contact and he found himself staring into Spock's calm, dark eyes.

"Doctor, what is the neurological effect of a six minute anoxic episode?" Spock asked.

McCoy's eyes narrowed as confusion twisted his features. "What?" he half-laughed at the utter randomness of the question.

"When a human brain is deprived of oxygen for six minutes, what effect does it have on cognitive function?" Spock repeated as calmly as if they were in the lab together, working on an experiment.

McCoy's eyes remained narrowed in a mix of 'what are you up to?' and 'what did I miss?', but his face smoothed out as he reached for something he was sure of. "Well, supposin' someone lived through that kinda oxygen deprivation, they could end up with all kinds of cognitive dysfunction – memory loss, speech impairment….."

"Could they also experience confusion, altered thought processes?" Spock interrupted.

"Well, yeah, sure," McCoy confirmed, "'specially if they were in and out of consciousness – that'll really mess with a man's perception of time and reality. Again, though, you're supposin' that someone actually survived that long of an anoxic episode, and with enough non-infarcted tissue that they could think at all," McCoy reminded him.

"You have," Spock stated simply.

McCoy shook his head. "What are you goin' on about?" he sighed, frustrated.

"You survived a six minute anoxic episode, Doctor. Your current belief that you are 'losing your mind' is a culmination of the natural cognitive effects of such an episode, as you just dictated." Spock leaned forward slightly, demanding McCoy's full attention.

McCoy's eyes widened. "I survived….." he began, letting out a disbelieving breath, before pulling his thoughts into some semblance of order. "How in blazes did I do that?" he demanded, curiosity and disbelief overtaking the previous lifelessness in his eyes.

"Through a combination of regeneration, reperfusion, and other treatments," Spock replied.

"What other treatments, Spock?" McCoy persisted.

Spock sighed. "I am unable to provide the minute medical details you require, Doctor," he reminded McCoy.

McCoy leaned forward. "Spock," he said quietly, "if I got myself into that kinda trouble….six minutes…..then there's no way on God's green earth we should be havin' a conversation right now. Cerebral regen is iffy at best, and even if it did work reliably on tissue outside the brain stem, it wouldn't leave the old pathways intact – everything would be new, so the fact that we're talkin' and I know who the hell you are, just isn't right accordin' to the medicine I know."

Spock nodded. "You are correct, Doctor, in that cerebral regeneration alone would not have worked. However, you do indeed have great knowledge of the medicine that did work – in fact, your theories were the basis for your treatment."

McCoy growled at the pause. "For heaven's sake, Spock, spit it out," he gestured impatiently.

Spock allowed the barest hint of a smile to touch his lips. McCoy's mind was brightening as his true essence came back out. Lights 60%. "Nurse Chapel insisted on using the tri-ox theory you based on Dr. Kerebus' article. Your tri-ox notes were used along with a Fabrini compound, previously untested in humanoids, which restored your cerebral cells to their previous state."

McCoy's eyes grew wider. "The one they couldn't get past the blood-brain barrier?" he asked.

Surprise flitted across Spock's face. "Yes," he replied. "You know of it?"

McCoy nodded. "Of course – you think I wouldn't dive into all that data? I've still got studies lined up for some of their research. We just finished readjusting the molecular structure of the Kirillian flu vaccine based on the Fabrini's experiments – broadened the covered spectrum to damn near every strain imaginable, and even engineered it to cover strains we don't know about yet," McCoy said proudly, before his gaze turned inward again. "So for Geoff and Chris to get it to work, along with the tri-ox…" McCoy bit his lower lip as he ran the possibilities through his head, before suddenly brightening and grabbing Spock's arm. "They did it, didn't they? A cerebral shunt!"

Spock struggled to keep his smile in check. Lights 90%. "Indeed, Doctor, they did."

McCoy jumped to his feet, grinning wildly…and the supernova returned. Even Vulcan eye physiology couldn't keep Spock from blinking as the brilliant light of McCoy's true essence flooded his mind. "I knew it would work!" McCoy whooped as he began pacing, running ideas for future treatment implications out loud. He stopped for a moment and shook his head apologetically. "Poor Geoff, he must have hated havin' to put in such an archaic piece of equipment," he half-laughed, before bouncing high on his toes and grinning at Spock. "Just think of the potential, Spock!" McCoy's eyes were dancing as he reached up for his head to feel the shunt.

"You will not be able to feel it here, Doctor," Spock explained.

McCoy finally stopped pacing. "Whaddya mean, here?" he asked, frowning as he looked around, seemingly for the first time. "Come to think of it, where is here, anyway?"

"Our minds are one," Spock said simply.

McCoy froze. Fear ghosted across his features briefly, before he met Spock's eyes and regained his composure, nodding his understanding.

"Doctor, if you find my presence unsettling…." Spock began.

McCoy shook his head. "Spock, this whole damn process is unsettling," he grumbled. "But your presence isn't. You just surprised me, is all." McCoy chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't they teach you fellas how to knock?"

"Knock, Doctor?" Spock queried.

"You know, before strollin' into someone's head," McCoy clarified.

"You were unresponsive, Doctor…..I was unable to obtain your permission before seeking you out, but if you wish…" Spock explained.

McCoy shook his head, laughing. "It's okay, Spock," he reassured the Vulcan. "It was a joke. Forget it."

Spock frowned and drew in a breath to speak again, but McCoy cut him off. "Don't," McCoy's voice was hard.

Spock sighed as McCoy realized that he had discovered the real reason for the physician's fear. "Doctor, what my counterpart did…." he began.

"I said, don't," McCoy growled icily.

"Doctor, my counterpart's intrusion…." Spock tried again.

"Dammit, Spock, what part of 'don't' do you not understand?!" McCoy exploded. "And stop calling him your counterpart – he wasn't anythin' like you. You think I wouldn't have kicked your sorry ass outta my head if I thought otherwise?"

Spock took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Doc-" he swallowed and softened his voice. "Leonard," he said gently, the name unsure on his tongue. It was the right choice though – McCoy had calmed down in sheer surprise at the use of his given name, and was focused, somewhat warily, but openly, on Spock. "What he did was an abomination according to my people – a violation of the greatest magnitude. In Surak's time, such violations, as rare as they were, were punishable by death. I am in great admiration of your strength, Doctor. Vulcans who have been subjected to forced mind melds have gone insane. Many have died under the strain of even the healer's meld. I have never heard of a Vulcan, let alone a human, surviving such a violation, especially without treatment, with their sanity intact. The fact that you have not 'kicked my sorry ass out of your head' is most impressive. There is no reason to be ashamed of your fear – indeed, it is most logical in this situation."

McCoy's eyebrow went up and a half-smile touched his pale face. "Why, Spock, are you callin' me logical for havin' a strong emotional reaction?"

"In this situation," Spock clarified firmly.

McCoy laughed, and the darkness passed. "Noted, Mr. Spock," he chuckled.

Spock's eyes danced.

McCoy sat down again. "Well, then, Spock, you said yourself this isn't a social call," he gestured around the empty space. "What's goin' on?"

Spock sobered. "Doctor, are you certain….."

McCoy held up a hand, interrupting him. "I'm all right, Spock," he said quietly. "Thank you…what you said helped…and heaven forbid there should be a next time…well, I'll know to go to you first."

Spock nodded. "There will not be a next time," he said simply, but McCoy knew the Vulcan well enough to hear the icy, protective promise there. Spock met McCoy's eyes quietly. "And I welcome your presence in my quarters, should you ever desire to discuss the matter," he offered.

McCoy accepted the offer with a gracious nod, swallowing hard past the lump in his throat. "Thanks, Spock," he managed. Clearing his throat, he straightened. "So, what brings you to my highly illogical, highly emotional little mind?" he asked drily.

Spock nodded, moving to the matter at hand. "When you last regained consciousness, you appeared to have difficulty speaking and regulating basic movements. I suggested to Dr. M'Benga that a mind-meld may be beneficial in determining the reason for the dysfunction."

McCoy chuckled. "So basically, ya'll were hopin' I'd really be in here, so you and I could figure this out from the inside?" he summarized.

"I believe I just said that, Doctor," Spock replied, one raised eyebrow the only indication of his amusement.

"Of course you did, Mr. Spock," McCoy placated him with a soft laugh. He drew in a breath. "All right, then, tell me exactly what I was doin' – my mind's so muddled right now, I don't trust what's rattlin' around in there."

Spock proceeded to describe McCoy's weak movements and failed attempts at speech in detail.

"Wait a minute, Jo's really here?!" McCoy burst out, as Spock described his attempt at saying his daughter's name.

"Indeed, she is," Spock confirmed, before adding, drily, "and she is quite offended by your continued insistence that she is not real."

"Yeah, I'll bet she is," McCoy agreed, "and I'm sure I'm gonna get an earful 'bout it, so hurry up!"

Spock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You wish to hear Johanna yell at you?" he asked, confused.

McCoy's eyes softened. "Spock, she's my little girl. If she needs to vent some worry first, dammit, she can yell at me all she likes, so long as I get to hold her while she's doin' it. I don't get to see her damn near enough."

Spock nodded. "An admirable quality in a father," he said quietly.

It was McCoy's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Careful, Spock, that's two compliments now," McCoy teased. "I may start thinkin' I'm hallucinating again."

"In that case, Doctor, I shall endeavor to refrain from acknowledging the very few positive qualities you possess," Spock replied.

McCoy grinned. "That's more like it," he said. "Now, shut up and give me a summary of that last cranial scan."

Spock chose to ignore pointing out the fact that he could not both "shut up" and inform the doctor of the test results at the same time. He recited the scan summary Dr. M'Benga had given him.

McCoy nodded thoughtfully, gaze turned inward as if mentally testing his own synapses. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he brought a hand to his face, worrying his lower lip. 1.9 minutes later, he looked back up at Spock. "Basal ganglia problem is most likely – it's got enough circuits to explain the movement issues, and the speech deficit too. If I'm understandin' enough to respond to basic commands and we're having a coherent conversation here, it's probably more a Broca's aphasia….not a classic case, but it makes sense with the frontal lobe damage. There were probably a few pathways that got trampled in all the excitement. Geoff's gonna have to go in to remove the shunt anyway – tell him to look at the basal ganglia and follow the axonal pathways, especially to Broca's. He can just re-graft the broken ones."

"Understood," Spock acknowledged, standing up slowly.

McCoy frowned. "How long you been in here?" he asked suddenly.

Spock tilted his head, as if he didn't understand.

"Dammit, Spock," McCoy growled. "Don't give me that look. I know there are limits to how long is safe for these damn melds, and I'd bet real money you should've left a long time ago. There's probably a shorter time limit for melding with injured minds too, isn't there?"

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but McCoy cut him off, with a shake of his head.

"Never mind – don't answer that," McCoy grumbled, already knowing the answer. He glared at Spock. "Well, go on, get out of here. Go tell Geoff that I'll owe him the next few neurosurgeries." He let out a long-suffering sigh. "I swear, I'm out of it for a little while and ya'll turn into reckless fools – well, more'n usual." He stared at Spock, who was watching him, with an amused glint in his eyes. "What're you still doin' here? Scat! Tell M'Benga to get in there and sort out those pathways. Jo's waiting and someone's gotta keep you and Jim in line."

Spock allowed the amusement to creep into his lips. "Of course, Doctor," he nodded.

McCoy smiled softly. "Thanks for coming for me, Spock," he said sincerely.

"You have done the same for me," Spock said simply, before gently separating their minds and stepping back into the ICU.


Spock straightened slowly, reeling from the sudden influx of outside stimuli. Kirk was at his side in an instant, guiding the Vulcan to a chair, one hand on Spock's elbow, both steadying him physically, and grounding him mentally. Spock nodded gratefully.

"You all right?" Jim asked softly.

"I am unharmed, Captain," Spock reported.

Kirk nodded, squeezing Spock's shoulder. He fidgeted nervously before finally asking, in a low voice pitched only for Vulcan hearing, "Bones?"

"Quite himself," Spock replied drily.

Kirk snorted back a relieved laugh. "You were in there so long, I wasn't sure if….." he trailed off.

"The doctor had shielded himself quite deeply," Spock explained. "It took some time to find his essence and convince him of the reality of his conscious episodes." He kept the issue of the mirror universe to himself – at this time, there was no reason to involve Jim and since discovering the issue, Spock felt almost exceedingly protective of McCoy's mind and privacy.

Kirk chewed the inside of his cheek, worried. "But he came around, right?"

"Indeed, and he provided a diagnosis," Spock said.

Kirk brightened. "What do we need to do?" he asked breathlessly.

"What you need to do is share all this with the rest of us," Johanna demanded, glaring at Kirk and Spock.

Kirk flushed. "I'm sorry, Johanna," he apologized, embarrassed.

Johanna waved away the apology. "Don't apologize," she insisted. "Just talk."

Mara snorted and Christine grinned as Kirk shut up and let Spock relate his conversation with McCoy.

The tension melted from Johanna's body as Spock confirmed that her father's personality was intact and that he finally understood that she was really on the Enterprise. Upon hearing that McCoy was expecting her shouting, Johanna grinned. "Damn right I'm gonna yell at him," she growled, but there was no menace to it. "Especially about that radiation bit," she narrowed her eyes at Kirk, who sighed heavily at getting his friend into trouble.

Spock turned his attention to M'Benga as he outlined McCoy's assessment of the data. M'Benga smiled as Spock related McCoy's future surgical promise. "That would be most appreciated," M'Benga chuckled. "Leonard is the neurosurgeon, not I."

"For someone who's not a neurosurgeon, you're sure doing a hell of a job," Johanna pointed out.

M'Benga acknowledged the compliment with a soft smile.

Christine and Mara were sharing a knowing look. Johanna turned to the two women. "What?" she asked, curious.

Christine laughed. "It just figures we'd end up using Len's basal ganglia grafting technique too," she smiled, shaking her head. "He's practically got himself to thank for his whole treatment plan."

Johanna shook her head furiously. "Don't even think of sellin' yourselves short," she practically shouted, jumping up from the bed. "I'll be the first to say my daddy's brilliant, but he's gettin' better because of all of you." She pointed at Kirk. "You kept going, even when everythin' said he didn't have a chance in hell of makin' any sort of meaningful recovery, and not because you couldn't let go, but because you knew there was still a chance out there, somewhere, and you waited, because you knew they'd find it," Johanna nodded at the rest of the room. "And you got me here," she continued, fiercely passionate blue locking onto Kirk's surprised hazel. "You got me to my daddy's side, where I belong, and you gave me the chance to be with him, whatever happened. Maybe Miss Uhura knows a language than can properly express what that means to me, because English sure doesn't have the words."

Johanna turned to Spock. "Your devotion to my daddy and the Captain is just…again, I don't even have the words. Mr. Scott told me that you were the one to enable the Captain to get me here – we'd never even met, but you treated me as family, just as much as ya'll obviously treat each other. And you just went into daddy's mind for heaven's sake – and now we know what the scanners can't tell us and we've got a plan to bring him back all the way. Don't think I don't know how highly personal Vulcan mind melds are and I know you were in there longer than you should've been. I don't know what was goin' on, but I know now, without a doubt, that you were there for my daddy, when none of us could be, and all I can say is thank you."

Johanna faced M'Benga, Mara, and Christine. "And you three," she sighed. "I could never hope to find a team like ya'll to work with. I know you've been on constant shifts since Daddy was injured and ya'll've done it all – from emergency procedures, to surgery, to experimental medication schedules, to workin' with hundreds year old equipment, to believin' in daddy's research while doin' your own and creatin' hope from a situation that never should've had it in the first place. Ya'll are brilliant, but you also never forgot who was in that bed, and you managed to keep daddy as part of the team, even as he insisted on bein' the most critical patient on board. Then I got here and you took care of me too."

Johanna swallowed hard before meeting Christine's eyes. "Chris, I can only hope to be a fraction of the nurse you are. You believe in Daddy…you kept his blood circulating, you talked to him, shouted at him when he was bein' an idiot, and consulted with him on his own treatment even when it looked like he had no chance, because you knew, if the situation was reversed, he'd do nothin' less for his patient."

The room was silent.

"Shit," Mara finally muttered, swiping at her eyes.

Scattered laughter eased the high emotion.

Johanna grinned as she pushed back her own tears. "Well, what're ya'll waitin' for?" she demanded, glancing at McCoy. "He told us what to do, so let's do it!"

Kirk laughed and looked at M'Benga, Mara, and Christine. "Well, you heard the young lady," he chuckled.

"I'll go prep surgery," Mara grinned, her step light as she left the ICU.


Three hours later, Mara and Christine were settling McCoy back into the room, beginning the standard post-operative routines. M'Benga sat down with Kirk, Spock, and Johanna.

"Leonard did very well," M'Benga smiled. "There were indeed several damaged pathways that required re-grafting. He tolerated the re-grafting and the shunt removal without incident."

"For once," Mara muttered under her breath, wincing as Christine playfully kicked her.

"I decided the leave the central line in for now," M'Benga continued. "I do not forsee any further complications, but I would rather have the access if we need it."

"Leave it in," Johanna nodded. "The whole point of emergencies is that they aren't foreseen."

"Agreed," M'Benga replied. "We can remove the line at the bedside when Leonard is ready."

"Thank you," Johanna whispered, surprising M'Benga with a tight embrace.

"My pleasure," M'Benga said softly.

Johanna returned to her place at her father's side, perched on the edge of the bed, gently stroking his hand. Kirk and Spock took up residence on McCoy's right, standing just out of the way, allowing Mara and Christine room to work.

Half an hour later, McCoy began to stir.

"Daddy?" Johanna asked breathlessly, squeezing McCoy's hand. "C'mon Daddy, open your eyes."

McCoy groaned softly.

Kirk stepped forward, squeezing McCoy's left forearm. "Bones," he said; a quiet plea.

"C'mon Daddy, I was savin' the yellin' for later, but so help me, you know I'll start now if I have to," Johanna threatened.

McCoy swallowed thickly as his eyes fluttered open.

"Daddy? Look at me," Johanna said firmly.

McCoy blinked heavily and brought a slow hand to his eyes.

"Lights, 25%," Christine ordered the computer.

McCoy swallowed again as Johanna gently took his hand away from his eyes and held it close to her face. "C'mon Daddy, over here," Johanna insisted.

McCoy forced his eyes in the direction of the familiar voice. Blinking rapidly, tired blue eyes fought past the remnants of anesthesia and focused on their mirror image. A weak smile lit his face. "Hiya, sweetheart," he croaked.

Johanna clutched McCoy's hand to her lips, tears spilling down her cheeks as she released a relieved half-sob, half-laugh. "Hiya, Daddy," she smiled through her breaking voice.

McCoy struggled to bring Johanna back into focus. "'M s'ry thought you were halluc'nation," he slurred.

Johanna laughed as the tears fell faster. Kissing his hand again she assured him, "It's all right, Daddy, I think I can forgive you this time."

"Good," McCoy murmured, blinking hard to force his eyes back open. "J'm, Sp'ck, you here?" he asked thickly.

"Yes, Bones," Jim struggled to keep his own voice from cracking. He squeezed McCoy's arm again to let him know where they were.

McCoy slowly turned his head to the right, groaning at the movement.

"Headache?" Christine asked softly, leaning in so McCoy could hear her.

McCoy groaned again as he nodded.

"Well, don't do that," Christine laughed quietly, gently placing her hands alongside McCoy's face to stop him from moving his head. "I'll get you something for the pain."

Even through the lingering anesthesia, the emotion in McCoy's eyes was enough to make Christine gasp. "Th'nks," he slurred.

Christine squeezed his shoulder in reply and excused herself to the medication tray.

McCoy opened his eyes gingerly to find Jim, Spock, Mara, and M'Benga looking down at him. He managed to rally enough energy to raise a surprised eyebrow and demand, "What're ya'll starin' at me foah?"

Kirk grinned at the thick Georgian accent. He may have had a hell of a time understanding Bones on the rare occasions when his accent flared, but just hearing his friend's voice again was enough to make his heart swell. "We'll tell you about it sometime, Bones," he laughed.

Christine returned with the hypo, gently administering the dose to McCoy's jugular. A minute later, some of the tension melted from McCoy's face and he sighed.

"Better?" Christine asked.

"Yeah, thanks Chris," McCoy whispered, closing his eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Daddy," Johanna said softly. "You still gotta get rid of the rest of that anesthesia."

McCoy shifted his eyes to his daughter.

Johanna understood the look there. "We'll be here when you wake up," she assured him, kissing his hand again.

McCoy shifted his eyes back to Kirk and Spock, as if seeking their confirmation as well.

"Sleep, Bones," Jim ordered McCoy gently. Eyes dancing, he added, "come back when you're more coherent."

McCoy's eyes narrowed slightly as he muttered something under his breath.

Johanna snorted.

"Do I want to know?" Kirk asked.

"I do believe the word was 'smartass,'" Spock offered.

McCoy attempted to glare at Spock through half-closed lids. "Want all th' details," he insisted weakly.

Christine grinned. "Oh, you'll get them, Len," she assured him. "Now, get some sleep. You'll need the rest for all the energy you're going to expend reading your chart."

"Yeah, and we're gonna need the rest to have the energy to deal with him bouncing around sickbay," Mara muttered, eyes sparkling.

Christine laughed as McCoy's eyes closed and his breathing evened out into the steady rhythm of comfortable sleep. Mara was absolutely right…and Christine couldn't wait to be surrounded by that familiar excited energy again.

M'Benga nodded to the room and headed for the doors as Johanna nestled alongside McCoy and began softly singing.

"Summertime….and the livin' is easy….."


*Medical Notes:

- "Aphasia" is dysfunction in the expression or understanding of language. Broca's area is a part of the brain involved in language ability. As usual, this story is based on fact, with future possibilities inferred from current knowledge. Basic information on aphasia can be found at [ . ]

- According to Memory Alpha, "by 2253, McCoy had developed a surgical procedure for the humanoid brain; grafting neural tissue to the cerebral cortex, followed by the creation of an axonal pathway between the tissue graft and the basal ganglia." This was apparently used by the EMH in the Voyager episode "Lifesigns." [ /en/wiki/Leonard_McCoy]

- Source material used to create future understanding of the role of the basal ganglia was found here: [ . ] and here: [ .edu/PUBS/Ullman_Cortex_ ]

- The song Uhura, Scotty and Johanna sing is "Summertime", composed by George Gershwin for 1936's "Porgy and Bess." Full lyrics can be found here: [ . ]. I was looking for Southern songs and I could just hear McCoy singing this to his infant daughter, but changing the line "your daddy's rich and your momma's good lookin'" to "your daddy may not be rich, but your momma's sure good lookin'."