Chapter 12
Over the next two days, Jim slowly began to grow stir-crazy from staying in sickbay. He was bored, he was feeling much better, and he didn't have to annoy and tease like he used to have when he was stuck in sickbay.
McCoy was there all right, supervising Jim's treatment and telling Jim what he could and could not do, but he treated Jim like any other patient. Well, a bit colder, really, than any other patient. Although most crewmembers who had never needed to go to sickbay correctly assumed that McCoy's gruff exterior would carry over to his bedside manner, they underestimated the clear underlying warmth that could be detected in all of his interactions with his patients. This warmth was absent, however, as he kept treating Jim during his recovery.
Jim didn't care, though. He did miss the distraction of having his best friend around during some of the most boring times of his time on the Enterprise, but he had no desire to talk to McCoy in any personal matter about anything. He was still steamed about having been put in restraints, although, having had a bit of time and distance to think about it, he knew that McCoy was just trying to do his best to aid Jim's speedy recovery.
McCoy, however, wasn't angry. He was hurt. He couldn't believe after all that they had been through, even given their current estrangement, that Jim would seriously think that he, a doctor, would betray his medical oath by ordering an unnecessary treatment simply to get back at him for some occurrence in their ongoing war. But, he bottled this hurt up and treated Jim in a cool and dispassionate matter. If the kid thought McCoy hated him, then the kid could see the professional side of the doctor only. McCoy was damned if he'd let his mask slip.
In the evening of the second day, McCoy approached Jim's biobed with Jim's chart in his hands.
"Well, Captain Kirk, I can safely say that you're out of the woods at this point. I will be able to discharge you to your quarters tomorrow morning, assuming that you continue to recover at your current rate of progress. Due to the extensive internal injuries you sustained, as well as the broken bones that have been healed, you will probably need to remain off-duty for at least two weeks following your discharge. During those two weeks, you'll need to rest a lot and avoid exerting yourself by any sort of strenuous activity."
Jim looked at McCoy with a slight look of dismay in his eyes. "Can't I return to my quarters tonight, Dr. McCoy? I know my progress has been substantial in the last two days."
McCoy inclined his head slightly. "That is true, captain, but I am still concerned about you getting an adequate amount of rest and ensuring that no complications arise. The fact that you had not rested adequately following your previous injury complicated your current injuries. Given the severity of your current injuries, I wish you to recover fully before resuming your duties." Especially, thought McCoy, as it seems like every damn time you beam down to a planet you get injured in some totally unexpected and completely new way.
"Very well, doctor," said Jim with a sinking heart. "I'll stay here for one more evening. But I expect to be promptly discharged in the morning."
McCoy looked at Jim for a moment. He still was a bit off-color, and McCoy could tell that he was not feeling nearly up to his normal standard. One of the nurses had gotten Jim on his feet and had him walk around sickbay a little bit, and although Jim could walk, it was obvious that his left leg was still hurting him. Any kind of exertion left Jim gray and tired, and McCoy knew that being in sickbay, with no privacy and people coming and going at all hours, was not conducive to Jim's rest. That being said, given Jim's track record, McCoy was not willing to let him return to his quarters until it was absolutely clear that he was out of danger. God knows, thought McCoy, if I let him go at any point when serious complications may yet arise, the goddamn idiot wouldn't come back for further treatment. He'd just suffer in silence, or maybe die in silence, rather than seek out treatment. Especially as he no longer had a close friendship with his doctor.
If McCoy was being honest with himself, he was also being extra-cautious with releasing Jim from sickbay because he knew he would have a limited opportunity to monitor Jim upon his release. In the foregone days of their friendship, McCoy could monitor Jim's health by observing his appearance, his behaviors, and whether or not Jim was trying to actively avoid him. Now, however, Jim was probably going to work to actively avoid him regardless of his health, so his observational opportunities would be severely curbed.
And so McCoy resolved to tell Jim the news he knew he was not going to like to hear.
"Look, Captain, your health is still fragile at this point. I know you still feel terrible and you're going to continue to feel terrible. Recovery from injuries like you sustained is a gradual process. If you were any other patient, I'd keep you here for another week. But I know that's not what would help you recover."
Kirk internally raised his eyebrows. He was not expecting Bon….Dr. McCoy…to admit to treating him any differently than any other patient. Clearly, Dr. McCoy was going to use his personal knowledge of him to punish him further.
"If you want to be discharged tomorrow," McCoy continued, "you'll need to wear a bio bracelet so I can monitor your vitals from afar."
McCoy saw the captain's brow begin to furrow, so he hurriedly gave the captain the alternative. "Or, you can stay here. But, I must warn you that tomorrow I'm beginning the process of inoculating the entire crew against that Schernedian virus that's been plaguing whatever godforsaken planet we're going to next month, so there will be a lot of traffic in here."
Jim grimaced internally. As much as he despised being stuck in bed, he hated people seeing him stuck in bed ten times worse. He wanted people to think of him as strong, brave, and unstoppable, not sickly and frail. And most of all he hated their pity. Stupid Schernedian virus. I bet the crew doesn't even have to be inoculated. It must just be Bones' way of punishing me.
"And before you accuse me of inventing an excuse to drive you out of my sickbay," Bones said, uncannily echoing Jim's thoughts, "if you think back to before you messed around with those damn rockworms, you'll recall that you ordered me to inoculate the entire crew with strict time orders. In fact, the inoculation was supposed to start approximately four days ago, but I put it off because I unexpectedly had a mortally wounded captain to bring back from the edge of death. Again."
Jim could almost swear that he heard an echo of what he now thought of as the pre-apocalyptic McCoy in McCoy's voice. And, now that Jim thought of it, he remembered ordering that the crew be vaccinated against that virus. So Bones' excuse to drive him out of sickbay, if that's what it was, was valid. Jim made up his mind.
"I'll take the bracelet," he said, not looking at Bones.
Bones nodded curtly, checked Jim's vitals one more time, and strode out of sickbay.
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Jim had been in his quarters for only 24 hours and he swore he was going insane. At first, he enjoyed the novelty of a new situation. And, he appreciated the ability to collapse in his bed or in his chair at any moment without anyone running over to check that he was still alive or offering him ice chips or jello. He loved the feel of the fresh, cool sheets on his bed and the wide selection of books in his bookshelf. Uhura had been kind enough to bring a few volumes to sickbay, but she didn't know what his favorites were, and he was still a bit too off-kilter to read anything new. He wanted something familiar and comforting, something to soothe his discontent and distract him from his pain.
Although he wanted to deny it, he was still in considerable pain. His leg and his ribs ached the worst he decided, but it was also disconcerting to see his hands trembling when he attempted to do any task that lasted longer than ten minutes. And he was still tired all of the time, despite his valiant attempts to get on a normal schedule. He had already woken up twice at his desk with reports open in front of him, and twice he had got into bed with the intention of resting for a short bit only to awaken suddenly to find Spock bringing him his lunch or his supper.
If truth be told, Jim was a bit surprised that it was Spock bringing him his meals, rather than one of McCoy's nurses. Jim had no expectations that McCoy would stoop so low as to bring a lowly patient such as Jim his meals, but he rather thought McCoy would send someone he could trust to spy on him. Or maybe, Jim thought gloomily, McCoy can trust Spock to spy on me.
Upon further reflect, Jim decided McCoy must have talked to Spock. After all, Spock had been the one to escort Jim to his quarters.
Jim had of course insisted loudly that he was more than capable of walking back to his quarters without any assistance, but Doctor M'benga, who was discharging Jim, nodded at him politely and stated that he would be happy to discharge him as soon as he consented to having Spock escort him to his quarters. McCoy was nowhere in sight, but Jim knew that M'benga was following whatever orders McCoy had prescribed.
"Okay, you win," Jim said. "Tell Mr. Spock to come to sickbay at his convenience."
"I am already here," Spock said, stepping into sickbay. "I had predicted that it would take less than two minutes for you to decide that it would be better to have me escort you to your quarters than to remain languishing in sickbay."
"Languishing?" Kirk said, aghast. "I haven't been languishing, I've been poked and pricked until I swear my skin has holes all over it. Get me out of here, Spock, before I spearhead a mutiny against sickbay."
"As you wish, captain," Spock said, following the captain closely. As he walked out of sickbay, Spock noted with interest that the door to Dr. McCoy's office was slightly ajar.
Jim knew that McCoy had to have recruited Spock to do some kind of reconnaissance. After all, a dead captain was not effective, and Spock was all for ensuring the effectiveness and efficiency of the Enterprise.
Jim found he couldn't be mad at Spock, though. Spock was only doing what was in his nature. And, McCoy had to have a spy somewhere, in addition to that damn bracelet, so Jim was at least comforted that he knew who the spy was and knew that the spy would only give McCoy information pertinent to his health.
But, Jim was tired of being out of action and tired of being ordered around and tired of being tired and tired of being shut up in sickbay or in his quarters.
So, Jim decided to slip up to the bridge and see what was going on. It was gamma shift, he noted, and Bones and Spock were currently both working alpha shift, so Jim figured he had a good chance of make an undetected trip.
Because it was what most crewmembers considered to be the middle of the night, as much as anything can be the middle of night in space, the hallways were deserted as Jim crept slowly toward the bridge. As his left leg began trembling slightly as he plodded steadily closer to the bridge, he had to admit that he was nowhere near being at full strength. But, as he came closer and closer to the bridge, Jim realized that he wanted to make sure that the ship and her crew were doing fine in his absence, though he had no doubts as to Spock's ability to ensure the ship's safety. There are some things you just need to see for yourself.
The gamma shift looked up surprised when the lift doors opened to reveal the captain. A quick glance was enough to each of the crewmembers to see that he was looking more than a bit worse for the wear, but they nodded curtly to Jim and then resumed their work.
All except one. Damn it, thought Jim, why does she have to be here? Jim knew that he could talk Chekov, Scotty, and probably Sulu into looking the other way with regards to his unmedically-authorized activities. He'd specifically waited until he knew Spock was away from the bridge because he suspected Spock would tattle to McCoy. Uhura, though, Jim thought wryly, is unlikely to tattle to Spock but is still likely to insist on getting her way. Which will probably involve frog-marching me back to my quarters and bolting the door shut. Damn.
He had faith in himself when going head-to-head against almost all alien races, Starfleet superiors, authority figures of all sorts, and even know-it-all engineers. Uhura, though, was a whole different ballgame.
"Lieutenant Uhura," Jim said, nodding at her shortly before sinking down gratefully into his captain's chair. He doubted he would have been able to remain standing much longer, and he needed all of his energy if he was going to be able to talk Uhura out of whatever fate she had in store for him.
"Captain," Uhura said rather coldly. She turned back to her station and worked diligently for a few minutes until all of the other crewmember's attention had turned back to their work. Then, she rose smoothly from her chair and walked over to Jim, who was leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes in an attempt to stem the rising nausea that he was experiencing.
"Jim," she said softly.
He opened his eyes slightly, but dark spots appeared, blurring his vision and making him more nauseous.
"Yes, Lieutenant? Did you need something?"
"I need you to go back to bed, Captain," Uhura said kindly. "Jim, you look so much better than you did before and I'm looking forward to you doing all sorts of crazy things to make our lives more interesting in the future, but you still look awful and you feel awful. We love you and we need you to captain this ship, but we can do it without you for a couple of weeks. Go back to bed. Trust us. Like we trust you."
A slight look of guilt entered Jim's eyes. "I do trust you. It's more about me than about you. I'm just so bored. And…tired of feeling useless and like a burden."
"You could never be a burden, Jim. Never. Now go back to bed and stay in your quarters for the rest of the week. I'll come visit you tonight. We can play a game or watch one of those old-school holos that you enjoy so much."
Jim sighed. He knew that Uhura was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
"You're right. Now how do we…."
Jim's request for Uhura to help him return to his quarters was interrupted by the harsh sound of the communicator.
"Dr. McCoy to bridge."
Uhura glanced at Jim with a worried, questioning glance, before replying, "Lieutenant Uhura here, Dr. McCoy."
"Because the vitals of the asshole who is the captain of this ship are through the roof, I assume that he dragged his sorry ass out of bed and to the bridge against medical orders. Tell that jerk if he wants to kill himself there are easier ways."
"Dr. McCoy…" began Uhura.
"I don't want to hear it, lieutenant. The captain is currently not authorized to be anywhere other than sickbay or his quarters. Tell him that if I find him anywhere else in the next week, I will keep him sedated in sickbay through next month. And, tell him to quit acting like a coward by sneaking out when he assumes I'm asleep and not monitoring his vitals. I'm not a fucking idiot. Tell him to grow up. McCoy out."
Absolute silence descended on the bridge.
Jim felt humiliated. Not that any of the crew were unaware of the end of his friendship with McCoy, but now the depth of their rift was public knowledge. And, they knew of McCoy's disdain for him. Jim looked up at all of the gamma bridge shift desperately looking anywhere but at him, pretending to be completely engrossed in their work, and he felt overwhelmed by despair.
Wordlessly, Jim pushed himself up out of his chair. The brief peace he had experienced, despite his nausea and pain, while sitting in his chair on his bridge, was gone, replaced with hurt, humiliation, and a more intense, throbbing pain in his heart.
With a great a show of courage as there ever was, Jim walked gracefully to the lift. Jim brushed off Uhura's arm.
"But, Jim," she said, trying to catch up with him.
"Just don't," he said, closing the lift door in her face.
He somehow made it back to his quarters, gasping and almost doubled over in pain by the time he collapsed on his bed. But he proudly noted that he had managed to keep it together while the crew could see him. He found some grim satisfaction in the fact that he had probably kept McCoy awake and monitoring his vitals as he made his slow and painful way off the bridge back to his quarters.
As he collapsed in his bed, Jim set his door to the most secure lock setting. He knew that it wouldn't keep McCoy out forever, but it was the best he could do to figuratively slam a door in McCoy's face.
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Hidden just around the corner from Jim's door, McCoy sighed. He had been monitoring Jim's vitals closely and tailing him at a distance since he exited the bridge. He had barely been able to keep his eyes of the screen displaying Jim's vitals since the alarm had sounded, waking him out of a fitful sleep. McCoy scowled. Jim's heart rate and pain reading were still through the roof. When will that idiot learn?
As thoroughly pissed at Jim as he was, McCoy suspected that he hadn't handled the situation very well. Talking to Uhura rather than to the captain directly. The sheer quantity of insults involved. Sending a message that anyone on the bridge could hear.
McCoy leaned back against the sterile white wall of the ship, his thoughts full of the infuriating, disastrous, accident-prone, careless captain who had once been his friend.
