Part XIV - Cathartic

The longer he was awake, the more Kirk became 'Enterprise Kirk' instead of 'Academy Kirk', which was fine with McCoy. He knew how to deal with either one, but he preferred the one he'd been dealing with most recently. As the doctor moved to sit down and rest, he found those intense blue eyes studying him.

"You've gone downhill a lot, Bones. Does the disease you have really progress that quickly?"

"It's not a slow mover, but I'd say that the combination of Pike shanghaiing the Enterprise combine with my extended agony booth session was what kicked mine into high gear. Stress never helps when you're fighting off a disease and me having to find out about it from a Klingon doctor? You can imagine that didn't decrease the stress. Oh, as a head's up? Be looking for another doctor. M'benga's not going to live much longer."

"You really think the nurses will go so far as to kill him?"

"Maybe not, but if they don't, I will. He did the blood work for my physical - the disease would have been showing at that point and, at that point, could have been dealt with."

"So . . . that means he sent a falsified report in to me, doesn't it?"

"Hadn't thought about it that way, but yeah, I suppose it does."

"If you'd prefer not to be bothered with him, I could just execute him for that."

"Not a decision that needs to be made right now. Get back with me after that treatment. Assuming I survive it."

"Go climb onto your bunk and take a nap, Bones. You look like you need it."

"Yeah. I do. Biggest pain of this thing right now is the fatigue followed real closely by the headaches. I've got drugs I'm using to thin my blood enough that I don't have a stroke, but that causes another set of problems - and hell, you don't need to hear me go on about it. I'm going to take a nap before I continue."

Kirk stayed quiet until he was sure McCoy was asleep, then he slipped out of his bed and went to the computer. Since Spock believed he was dead, Kirk couldn't use his own passcode to access the system, but he'd learned to hack into McCoy's long ago. Not that he let McCoy know about that trick, of curse. A small smile of triumph formed as he logged in as CMO Leonard McCoy.

Reviewing the current standing orders from the CMO, he verified that the area they were in was indeed under top priority quarantine lockdown. Vocal recognition only. Damn. He couldn't bypass that without raising all sorts of red flags. Not that he needed to bypass it. It was obviously more to keep others out than him in. Instead, he shifted focus, reading up on xenopolycythemia. Unpleasant didn't even begin to cover it.

Softly, Kirk moved over to where McCoy was sleeping. Now that he knew what he was looking for, Kirk could spot some of the symptoms. The ruddier than usual skin colorations, the slight bloated look in McCoy's upper abdomen that remained even though he'd lost weight, the spots where he'd been scratching himself in his sleep, the slightly labored breathing even while resting. Damn.

Watching him, Kirk felt something else slip back into place like a missing puzzle piece. His memories went back to their Academy days when McCoy had been ambushed over Winter Break while Kirk was away from the campus. Those same possessive feelings were in the forefront again. Reaching over when he saw a pained expression form on McCoy's face, Kirk brushed some of the hair away from the doctor's forehead. His voice was soft, but his tone brooked no argument.

"Mine."

Even in his sleep, McCoy moved slightly closer toward Kirk and Pike's words to him came back to the young Captain - 'bind him to you in as many ways as you can'. Well, if this didn't do it, Kirk couldn't imagine anything that could.

It took two more days before McCoy was satisfied that he'd done everything he could to get ready for his own procedure and had Kirk instructions for every eventuality that he could imagine. Before beginning the actual procedure, he called Scott on his communicator.

"McCoy to Scott."

"Scott here. I'm in a secure zone right now, so speak freely."

Kirk leaned toward a bit and spoke.

"Good to hear you again, Scotty."

They could both hear the intake of air from the other end.

"Captain? If I dinnae hear you myself, I dinnae know that I'd believe it. Welcome back, sir."

"Good to be back, Scotty. We need a favor."

"Name it, sir. If it gets that green peacock out of the command chair a minute quicker, I'm your man."

'Doctor McCoy and I have something very important to do, but we can't be having Spock demanding visual or verbal contact in here while it's being done."

"Would you be able to respond by text, sir?"

"That would be fine. But Spock can't learn that I'm back."

"Do you really think I would tell him and spoil the chance to get a look at his face when he sees you?"

"Good man. Can you arrange the other?"

"Aye, no problem at all. There will be a wee malfunction of the gear that I can't reach while the quarantine is still in effect."

"That will be perfect, Scotty. Make it happen."

"Aye, sir. Scott out."

Once that detail was taken care of, McCoy started the painstaking process of hooking himself up to all of the equipment. Doing it to himself took a considerably longer time than when he was doing to set up for Kirk because of the awkwardness. But he had inserted catheters and IVs into himself before, so it wasn't doing anything new. It helped that Kirk was hovering to hand him what he needed, but McCoy was exhausted by the time he was finished.

"From here out, it's all speculation. I'm hoping this will do for me what it did for the tribble, namely eradicate the disease in my system. But the tribble died on the way to getting better, so pretty good chance I'll do the same. If that happens, turn on the gear I showed you. After that, it will be a waiting game."

"It worked on me and Gwen, Bones. It will work on you too."

McCoy's brow went up.

"You named the tribble Gwen?"

"Sure. It looks like a Gwen. Besides, I figure this particular tribble has earned a permanent place among our crew, so it needed a name."

"I am far too tired to even want to argue that logic. Let's get this started."

Reaching over, McCoy started the drip that would send a mix of a glucose solution and the serum into his veins. For the first few minutes, nothing changed and McCoy even began to doze. That was short-lived.

When McCoy's body spasmed, Kirk was on his feet quickly, reaching out to pin McCoy down before his movements could dislodge any of the lines or equipment. Cursing, he wondered for a moment why McCoy hadn't warned him about this before it dawned on him that McCoy had no way of knowing. At the first lessening of the involuntary jerking, Kirk began to make use of the restraints on the biobed to keep the doctor as still as possible.

The hazel eyes were open, but showed no signs that he knew what was happening. The only thing they showed was the pain. Kirk had expected this process to be a calmer and far less painful one than it was appearing to be. No. Not just appearing. He knew enough about biobed readings now to be able to read the pain levels.

Things didn't get any easier in the course of the next hour. Kirk was glad of the restraints because it freed his hands to deal with the nosebleeds that began. He angled the head of the bed to keep McCoy from choking on his own blood. He was in the process of cleaning the blood away when McCoy's body stiffened in a massive convulsion, then went limp. A second later, the alarms went off. McCoy's heart and lungs had all seized. It only took a glance to confirm all brain activity has ceased as well.

In that moment, the full reality of what his own situation had been became clear to Kirk. If McCoy had wanted to be rid of him, all he would have to have done was nothing at all. Kirk had been dead - absolutely no-one could have blamed McCoy for that. Just a form filled out to verify the death and it would have been over.

Hand reaching over the body, Kirk activated the equipment that would keep McCoy's body maintained while the serum either did its work or failed. Pike had assured him once that he was sure that the day would come when Kirk wouldn't have to question McCoy's loyalty - that he'd know it as a fact. He knew now what Pike had meant and felt sympathy on a deeper level for exactly how much Pike had lost when Puri died.

Despite keeping himself busy, the hours passed slowly for Kirk. On Scott's off time, the two of the began having long discussions on some of the modifications that the engineer wanted to make. Kirk thought most of them sounded feasible, but wanted to see the schematics first. Not to mention, things would have to wait until he was officially back in the Captain's chair again.

The alarm on the biobed went off on the third day, but proved to be because of Gwen. How the tribble managed to get up onto McCoy's chest was something Kirk was never able to figure out and the cooing tribble wasn't telling.

When the alarm went off again the fourth day, Kirk was expecting another tribble incident, but Gwen was on the desk. Moving closer to check the monitors, he saw the sign that McCoy had told him to look for - the return of faint brain activity. Feeling relieved, Kirk pick up Gwen and deposited her back on McCoy's chest - to the tribble's cooing delight.

There were any number of factors that could have affected it, but McCoy's body was stepping through the recovery phases much quicker than Kirk's body had. Which was perfectly fine with Kirk as it gave him more to do. He was starting to go stir crazy. His energy was back, but the only one he could talk with face-to-face was Gwen. And she didn't even have a face.

The weaning process was complete by the next day and Kirk no longer wondered why McCoy had looked so exhausted. Yawning, he started to change out the bag with the nutrient drip, then stopped in mid-motion as he saw a hint of the hazel irises. Kirk sat the bag down before cupping the side of McCoy's face gently.

"It's over, Bones. You made it out the other side. You did it pretty fast too. Guess you were impatient to get it over with."

The barest hint of a smile formed, but it was easy to tell that McCoy was struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Hey, pretend I'm you for a minute and listen to me. I'll change out your bag and then you go back to sleep. I'll go grab a nap myself and then when we wake up, we'll get you off of this gear and let you have something nice and bland for breakfast. And maybe a chocolate malt if you're good."

The noise McCoy managed to make was probably supposed to be a laugh, but sounded a lot more like a cross between a hiccup and a cough. Regardless, it sounded good to Kirk as he turned and finished changing out the bag before plopping Gwen back onto McCoy's chest, but McCoy had drifted off to sleep by that point. Kirk began mindlessly stroking the tribble as he stood there watching McCoy breathe. He was breathing the way he used to back when they'd shared a room together. Not that he would ever admit that he ever stood around in their room and watched McCoy sleeping, of course.

Reaching over to the table, Kirk grabbed the tricorder, setting it to specifically test for xenopolycythemia. He ran the diagnostics three times, each with the same results. Not a trace found.

Turning the tricorder back off, Kirk sat it down and headed for the cot, leaving Gwen with McCoy. After those readings, he was going to sleep well.