A/N: if nobody says anything I'm assuming this worked

They had Tonbos Terre in their proverbial sights. Advance prep was being done for the docking and offloading of the diplomatic parties. Some were even recovering in Sickbay, though a fair few were still sleeping off the effects of that strange storm. Kirk's ire had gone down with the supervised recovery of his crew, but he was still chomping at the bit to be rid of these hiccups. And true to form, his First Officer was willing to move Mount Seleya itself to get leaps of logic to line up with his aim.

"As I have said, Doctor, I have recovered sufficiently to allow my departure from Sickbay."

McCoy kept his arms crossed and his feet planted. "I'm sick of this argument, Spock. Let's try a different approach. Riddle me this: have you ever known me to keep a patient in Sickbay out of spite?"

Spock was not feeling smug. "Indeed, Doctor, I have."

"Point made. Have you ever known me to do anything, with possession of all the facts, that proved to be a detriment to my patients?"

That gave Spock a little more pause. "Under the circumstances you describe, I have not."

"Very well." McCoy gave Spock a hard look. "And when one is not in possession of the facts, one should proceed with due caution should they not?"

"Doctor-"

"I have cleared you for a great many things in my time on board this ship, Spock. Things that have been far more detrimental to your health in the short run. I figure you owe me those overtime hours. Now I'm cashing them in."

Spock tried one last tack. "Then in the future, Doctor, we may consider the 'payment' as you so descr-"

"I kept a record!" McCoy let that famous temper pop. "You may have walked out with an outstanding tab before, but I will collect each hour I'm due before you close it. What you call spite I call 'for your own good'!" He jabbed a finger towards his reclining patient. "Now stay in that bed before I have to break out your books and detail all those jailbreaks at length. You're not cleared to be up and about until all those spiky readouts stabilize, same as everybody else."

Spock wasn't sulking just like McCoy wasn't throwing his weight around. Sometimes, there needed to be a certain level of prevarication. Whatever front was up stayed up for the benefit of everyone involved. In this game of tug-o-war, whoever gave an inch lost. At least on such a small scale. Better they have it out over stakes so low…

But McCoy was in too much of a snit over this old argument to wax philosophical. He turned on his heel and proceeded back out into Sickbay proper. Too bad it took a knock-down-drag-out to get things back to a sense of normalcy. Maybe that was the part that wore on him. It seemed like they'd been given a new lease on life- a new ship and all… But there was something hovering just out of their awareness. McCoy felt like something would dip back into the sensor range of his mind before slipping away. A cloaked danger on the edge of observation. Something big was going to happen. He'd learned to trust his instincts. Didn't mean he had to like it.

So it was back to the normalcy before the storm. After the storm. During- McCoy didn't have time to bandy semantics with himself. He sought the solace of his office and the oasis of a cup of coffee. Tonbos Terre couldn't get here fast enough. At the very least, they were only a few more hours out. If being bone-weary was the only price he had to pay for weathering the storm, then this would be more successful a voyage than most.

And if that was the case… What was it about this particular spin through the stars that grated on him? McCoy sipped his coffee and sat back in his chair. He'd had it out with Spock before over stints in Sickbay but- Just for his peace of mind, McCoy pulled up the biobed readings for all the patients in Spock's area. Just for kicks, he pulled up the rest. McCoy rang up Doctor Clifford.

" Clifford here. Go ahead."

"This is McCoy. Sorry to bother you again but I wanted to double check something."

" Of course. You've got good instincts, let's hear the complaint."

His lips twitched in spite of himself. "It seems everyone's leveling out faster than we anticipated. Now, I'm hardly one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but how far along is everybody really? Are we gonna get to move up our release timetable?"

There was a slight pause on the other end. " You're right about the improvements. Yes, it's faster than we calculated but we're dealing with all-new variables. No storm of this nature has been extensively studied and as such we can't be sure about the effects." McCoy could hear soft beeping as Doctor Clifford checked something at her station. " As a matter of fact, we may not have weighted the proximity of the storm heavily enough into our calculations. If the improvement is related to the storm's retreat, then it starts adding up again. "

McCoy chewed his lip. So I just ripped Spock a new one over nothing. Ornery hobogblin will be insufferable for days. "Would it be inadvisable to start releasing patients on a case-by-case basis?"

" I don't see a problem with it at this stage. Recommend that they avoid any strenuous activities and have the crew shift to light duty. Other than that, they should be free to go. Observation protocols stand, of course. If anyone relapses I'd like to know sooner rather than later."

"Sounds more than reasonable. Thank you for your input, Lucy, I'll start reviewing readouts and get back to you with the watchout list."

He closed the channel and pushed back in his chair. Of all the lousy luck in the galaxy, his had to be up there with the worst. Sure, sure he managed to help ward off disaster. No problem herding all these cats (and dogs) in and out of Sickbay. But wouldn't he know it the minute he finishes giving Spock a pointed-earful, he's got to turn around and eat crow.

"Typical!" He complained to the empty office. "Save his thick skull… I'm still the one getting the short end of the stick." McCoy bounced his toe on the bottom drawer of his desk. The chair rocked as he took a moment to sulk.

Out of curiosity and need for distraction, McCoy pulled up the readouts for Spock and the deepest hibernators. Conna made the list, as well as the C'Fungami diplomat and a handful of others. Wouldn't he know it- Spock's telepathic whatsits had leveled out significantly compared to the rest. On a sliding scale of telepaths, it seemed he'd fallen more in the middle ground. Too bad McCoy'd gone and added insult to injury. Needlessly.

That sparked his irritation back up in a heartbeat. Now undirected, his ire flickered internally. They hadn't had a real shouting match since… Well, it had been a hot minute. And the last one was over something a sight more serious than shaving time off a Sickbay stay. But McCoy wasn't kidding when he said he'd kept a tab. For argument's sake, he pulled up the special file with the little spreadsheet and footnotes.

Noteable instances of unauthorized leave included the incident with Spock's pon farr (minus 72 hours), their return from Sarpiedon (minus 90 hours), and one of the times that just made his blood boil: Ekos (did not report immediately, 144 hours lost). Overall, Spock had racked up a whopping deficit of 2143.45 hours due to Sickbay walkouts. Looking over the many instances of single-hour skips for missing physicals, McCoy was overcome with the feeling that a lot of these logs were petty.

Petty sure, but nearly 3 months of missing recuperation seemed to indicate it was justified.

McCoy released a breath and tried to let go of some tension with it. He didn't want to collect the hours, not truly. While he was of the opinion that Spock should've rested better, stayed healthy, or been innoculated with just a little common sense… He found at the core he couldn't find fault with the Vulcan's motivations. His true ones, not all that bunk about not being able to stand Sickbay or whatever logic he eventually cached it in. The same drive kept McCoy working late. If he'd bothered to keep track, his unreported overtime numbers might look similar.

He picked up his coffee again and took a sip. Didn't matter that it had gone cold during all this introspection. How did he cope with the fact that neither of them could give an inch and both feel entirely justified? Any mediating party would rule them both a few stars short of a solar system and recommend they take it down a notch. Spock had his duty. McCoy did as well. Is this how Jim feels when he's gotta dodge Starfleet Command? Does it go double for reckless Captains, or are they all born with the same blasted assurance that they're right?

McCoy realized bleakly that this mood he was in was his own fault. Too many years of playing the devil's advocate got him looking for exceptions. What's the galaxy coming to that such a pig-headed sonuvagun can't find his opinion unshakeable by an open mind? That sounded suspiciously like Chapel's voice. He chuckled to himself. Getting her onboard as a Doctor was near the best thing that had ever happened on this ship.

Spock would rather risk his health than risk the ship, when it came down to it. That logic was on shaky ground, regardless of what the Vulcan said about his abilities, but it made a crazy kind of sense. McCoy would rather risk his neck than the crew's even without a guarantee that his input would do a thing. Curse him for entertaining this line of rationale, but he understood. Is it what I would do in his place? Yes. Blasted hobgoblin logic…

McCoy got up and slung his coffee cup in the disposal chute with a curse. "Go get your atoms scrambled!" Maybe this telepathic wave was catching. Forcing him to use his head rather than his big mouth. The audacity of it all!

Maybe he was just stalling. No amount of thinking about it changed things. With a heavy sigh, he headed for his office door. Two turns through the main ward and he was back in the-

Back just in time to catch Spock red handed. The hobgoblin was midway off his biobed, having already disabled the alarm. At least he had the grace to look ashamed.

McCoy shoved down the spike of red-hot irritation under a deep breath. "Get lost, Spock." Neither of them were completely in the wrong. Neither of them were right. "I don't want to hear it." He turned on his heel and headed for where Conna and Icheleus were recovering.

Before entering the room, McCoy took a moment to compose himself. Even if their telepathic abilities weren't firing on all cylinders, he didn't want to add a flaring temper to the mix. He straightened up and opened the door.

Surprise of surprises, he found the pair of Trievans had another visitor.

"Fancy meeting you here, Bones. I was just catching up with our old friends before we begin pre-docking procedures."

McCoy joined Jim between the overlarge biobeds. "Really? We that close already?"

Conna's tail had started wagging lightly. "Our condition has been improving steadily. As a matter of fact, I was alert enough to sense the storm's passing."

"That's great to hear." McCoy found the tension easing just by being in the room. "Your readings tell the same story. Doctor Clifford is monitoring the residual radiation dropoff and seems confident we shouldn't have any more troubles."

Conna actually chortled. "Kirk's Law wins again."

Jim turned to Bones with his patented 'have you lost your mind' look.

"That being 'Kirk's Enterprise can sweet-talk its way out of a black hole if pressed'." Not his smoothest cover, but McCoy gave it a shot. Jim's eyebrows were still encroaching on his hairline, but he was also fighting down a grin.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear anything about it." Jim jabbed a finger in McCoy's direction. "I don't know what he's been telling you, but keep an eye on him, Lieutenant." He started towards the door. "We're sending the advance group down in a few minutes. Don't start a mutiny before then."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Jim. Don't have the ambition." McCoy chuckled at his Captain/Admiral's back as the door shut. Joking around like that, he could almost forget the stress of the morning. It seemed like a completely traceable breakdown. He could follow the buildup if not justify it. At least they'd made it out the other side.

Icheleus shook his ears and gave them one of those face-splitting yawns dogs like to surprise folks with. "While not a true rest, it seems that our stay was restful." He turned to Conna as the translator churned out his words. "It's not an experience I would like to repeat. At least- Well, I suppose it is a relief only some of us were affected."

A knowing look passed between the Trievans. McCoy caught on. "I did get a visit from young Miss Rhaelam. She's right as rain if you were worried."

Icheleus visibly relaxed. "I was. She is troubled in a way that Ramicran and I can not understand, though we do try. It's good that she was able to handle this incident."

While reluctant to turn the phrase 'speak of the devil and he shall appear' it was just a bit uncanny that the doors behind him opened at that moment. Then again, perhaps it was Icheleus' broader reach that prompted his words. Rhaelam herself bounded in followed by another devil of their acquaintance.

Whatever Spock was waiting to say was pushed back by Rhaelam's excitement. She was practically bouncing at Icheleus' bedside. "Papa you will not believe it! I went for a run in a field back home, and visited mountains on Earth, and played a ball game with Ensign Ennis from Hydroponics-" Her tail was wagging a mile a minute. McCoy actually forgot his irritation for a moment. That was one problem resolved and wrapped up in a neat little bow. The little lady had made a complete 180. Where she was gloomy now she was bright. Where she was still, now she was energetic and active.

Icheleus couldn't hide his surprise. "I take it you have made use of our hosts' holodeck?"

Rhaelam nodded enthusiastically enough to flop her ears. "It was so much bigger than I thought it would be! When it started up, I didn't think that I would be able to run and jump like we did. Ennis turned off the gravity for one of the games and we even got some of the Avarian delegation to play!"

Spock chose this moment to clear his throat. Things were still frosty, but McCoy hadn't completely abandoned the possibility of a thaw.

"I was following your direction to 'get lost' when I came across Miss Rhaelam in the hall. She required directions. If there is nothing further, I will return to my station."

"No, you're free to go, Spock. Thank you for bringing her by. I'd hate to lose a three-hundred pound puppy between here and the holodecks."

It was as close as an apology as they were likely to exchange. Ah well. Neither of them could give an inch, right? There was something to be said for consistency.

"Thank you, Doctor. I will return to my station."

But if he did, McCoy didn't know. Something grabbed him by the solar plexus and rippled a wave of energy all the way out over the surface of his skin. Spock was moving, but he was too bright and shaky.

Bright and bright and darker and darker and darker and darker…