Leonard McCoy was tired.
He kicked his legs in childish frustration which only caused him to become further entrapped by his blankets. Growling, he sat up and pulled his feet free, tossing the bedding in heap on the floor. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his face in his hands.
This was the fourth night in a row that sleep had eluded him. He had tried everything from a long run before bed to warm milk and even some of that voodoo meditation Spock liked. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone. He could already see Spock's eyebrows jump to his hairline upon hearing that the doctor had attempted to meditate. He would no doubt have offered his criticism on his technique as well.
McCoy was definitely not in the mood for that.
He scrubbed his face with is hands. He felt like he'd been run over by a shuttlecraft and left for dead. Hell, he probably looked it too.
"Computer, time." ha asked, knowing he was not going to be happy with the answer.
"The time is 0236 hours."
"Of course it is."
"Command not recognized."
He glared up at the ceiling but decided that an argument with a damned ships' computer would not be productive.
0236. To early to go in for his shift in Sickbay. Nurses spread gossip faster than his grandma and he would be in for an interrogation if Nurse Chapel heard if it.
He stood up and sighed. Sleep was not going to come tonight. Again. He had managed the last few days off of scattered naps and lots of coffee. He debated going to Sickbay and just asking for a sleep aid but that type of medication was flagged for an automatic medical follow up, though he didn't share that bit of information with the crew.
The crew of the Enterprise were overgrown infants when it came to visiting Sickbay. It was so bad he had devised the protocol in an attempt to keep better tabs on the skittish crew. Sleep troubles were an early sign of all kinds of medical issues. More often than not it was nothing but better to be safe than sorry.
He laughed bitterly to himself. He was one to talk about being an infant at the moment. The saying that doctors make the worst patients was an absolute truth. He brushed the thought aside. He was more than qualified to determine if he was in need of medical attention. And he was not. Not yet.
The Doctor walked over to the en suite bathroom and splashed some water in his face. Catching his reflection in the mirror he was surprised to see just how rough he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and dark purple circles had formed underneath them. He had fallen into bed without a shower last night and his hair was sticking up in all directions. It was a wonder he hadn't been cornered by the ever observant and nosey Jim Kirk.
He combed his hair into a respectable style and dressed quickly. Might as well do something productive if he wasn't going to sleep.
He wandered the halls for a bit before deciding to have a swim in one of the ships lap pools. Not to strenuous but a good way to get the blood flowing. He entered the rec room and was happy to find it empty as he pulled some swimwear from the supply cabinet.
He changed quickly and lowered himself into the tepid water. It felt wonderful on his tired bones. He swam with slow even strokes down and back and let the water flow over him, relaxing his tense muscles. He found his mind wandering to his warm, sunny Georgia home where he used to swim in the ponds and creeks as a kid. He would swim for hours on end and sun himself on the bank until he was dry. He could almost feel the warm tingling from the heat and hear his dad calling his name to come inside.
"Dr. McCoy!"
He snapped to the present and became painfully aware of a burning in his lungs and tingling in his extremities. He began to thrash in the water, clawing desperately for the surface. He needed air!
His head was getting fuzzy and black spots began to float into his field of vision when a strong arm wrapped around his chest and pulled.
They broke the surface, Leonard sputtering and coughing water from his lungs. He was towed unceremoniously to the side of the pool.
"Are you able to hold yourself up for a moment Doctor?" He nodded and concentrated on not sinking back under the water. When did he get so weak and shaky?
Hands grasped him under the arms and hauled him up and over the side. He lay on the cool tile for a moment with his eyes closed trying to catch his breath.
"Doctor are you alright?"
He opened his eyes to see a dripping Vulcan peering down at him. Pushing himself up on his elbows he scooted away from Spock and sat up. He wiped the water from his face and coughed again.
"Yea Spock I'm fine. What are you even doing here? It's the middle of the night."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I could ask the same of you Doctor. It is quite unusual for the crew on Alpha shift to be up at this time of the morning. I myself am an exception. As you know I do not require the same amount of rest that humans do. I prefer to take advantage of the quiet hour to engage in cardiovascular exercise. It would seem my routine worked to your advantage on this occasion."
McCoy blinked at him from his place on the ground. He decidedly ignored the sideways question about why he was up at this hour.
"Yea, I suppose it did. Guess I wore myself out and didn't realize it." He slowly got to his feet and headed to the cabinet for a towel. It took monumental effort not to drag his feet across the tile. He intended to change as fast as possible and high tail it out of there and away from the prying eyes of the First Officer. Unfortunately he was not going to make a clean getaway this time. The pointy eared bastard followed him over to the lockers.
"Doctor, if I may say so you have become increasingly irritable and short tempered in addition to exhibiting physical signs of fatigue in the last fifty one hours. If you are ill it is your responsibility as Chief Medi-" McCoy turned on Spock and shoved a finger in his face.
"Don't you lecture me about my responsibilities! Yea, Ive been a little tired. So what? I'm human. " He slammed the locker door shut and walked around Spock heading for the exit.
"Very well. Since the incident is due to nothing more than common human fatigue and there is no cause for alarm it should be of no concern to you if I mention your near drowning to the Captain."
McCoy froze. Why that no good, green blooded hobgoblin.
He let out a breath and his shoulders sagged. All the anger and fight he had a moment ago had evaporated. He was to tired to argue.
He turned back to Spock. "Fine Spock. I have been having trouble sleeping the last few days and I'm tired. Is that what you want to hear? But you get one thing straight right now, I would never compromise the safety of this crew."
He turned and left Spock standing by the door, a growing pool of water collecting at his feet.
—-
McCoy drug himself through his shift in sickbay that day expecting the Captain to walk through the door any minute demanding an explanation for the events in the pool that morning. He frowned, recalling the harsh tone he had taken with Spock. He had, by all accounts, saved his life and he had thanked him by yelling at him.
He managed to make it to late afternoon before taking a moment to set his head down at his desk. Just a few minutes and he'd be right as rain.
"Doctor, why don't you get out of here and go rest."
He looked up to see Nurse Chapel leaning on the doorway looking at him. Despite the suggestive nature of the request had her arms crossed in a way that suggested she wasn't going to take no for an answer. McCoy sighed in resignation.
Sickbay had been quiet for the last hour or so, maybe it wouldn't hurt to head out a little early. Besides he could always come back in a flash if he was needed. He got to his feet, joints cracking, and rubbed his eyes.
"Fine. But you call me the second anything comes in that need my attention."
"You when my word Doctor. Now go."
—
McCoy spent the remainder of the afternoon in his quarters slowly going mad with boredom. He tried to review some new medical journals he had been sent but the words kept blurring together and he couldn't keep focused long enough to get the ideas presented. It was giving him a headache. Growing frustrated, he closed down the terminal.
Going to the small cabinet bathroom he retrieved an analgesic and washed it down with water. That should take care of the headache for now. He walked back to the main room and sat on the couch.
His door chimed.
Surely that would be Jim come to pester him with questions and lectures. Really, McCoy was surprised it had taken him this long to seek him out.
"Come in."
The doors parted to reveal, not the Captain, but Spock standing in his doorway. He was holding what appeared to be a large blanket covered in deep red cloth and a small wooden box. Spock stepped inside, the doors sliding shut behind him.
"Good evening Doctor, I trust I am not disturbing you."
"No Spock, it's fine." He was still ashamed of the way he had behaved that morning. "Look, about this morning, I'm sorry for snapping at ya. I was in a bad mood and I should have been a little more grateful to you for haulin' me out of the water like you did. So yea, um...thanks."
"You are welcome."
McCoy cleared his throat and gestured to the bundle Spock was holding.
"Did you need something?"
"Indeed Doctor, I have brought some items that may aid in relieving your insomnia. I ascertained from our conversation earlier that you were adverse to the idea of divulging your condition to anyone else and though I generally defer to your medical expertise in these matters I deemed it to be a prudent course of action to assist you rather that draw more attention to your struggles."
McCoy looked at Spock and blinked stupidly while his brain attempted to process the information that had just fallen from to Vulcans mouth.
"So you didn't tell the Captain."
"No."
"Ok. Uh...well I appreciate that. I'm almost afraid to ask what you had in mind."
Spock made his way to table, set the wooden box down and turned toward McCoy still seated in the couch. He closed the few steps between them and held out the red cloth bundle he still carried. McCoy eyed it suspiciously for a moment but took the offered item.
He was unprepared for the excessive weight of the bundle and it slipped through his hands dropping onto his lap in a heap. He frowned and picked at the cloth.
"Good god man! What is this? You gonna smother me until I'm unconscious?!"
Spock sighed, "No Doctor. It is a weighted blanket. 15.4 pounds to be precise. It purpose is to ease anxiety and promote feelings of calm and well-being by employing a technique known as deep pressure therapy." He gestured to the box on the table, "I have also brought a blend of Vulcan tea that I find to be particularly relaxing. If you are agreeable I shall prepare you a cup." He stood with is hands clasped behind his back waiting for a response.
McCoy realized his mouth had fallen open at some point and snapped it shut. "Uh yea, sure I guess." Spock gave a nod and went to make tea.
Leonard briefly wondered if he was hallucinating. The sight of Spock tinkering around his quarters making tea was one for the books. He wondered what had come over the Vulcan. He decided to go with whatever was happening. Kicking off his shoes, he swung his feet up on the couch and laid his head back on the arm, pushing his palms into his burning eyes. The heavy blanket was an odd feeling but not altogether unwelcome. He concentrated on taking slow even breaths in an attempt to relax himself.
"Doctor..."
Spock was holding out a steaming cup of fragrant tea. Taking the cup he took a cautious sip. It was strong and spicy flavor spreading a warmth through his chest. He sighed, didn't it beat all but he could feel himself relaxing just a fraction.
He looked up at Spock, "Thank you. You really didn't have to do any of this. Especially after I was such an ass to you."
"You are welcome. I will take my leave if you do not require anything further."
"Yea, I'm good. You go get some rest yourself."
McCoy watched him go and stared at the close door for a few minutes then down at the tea in his hands. This had definitely been a surreal evening. He finished the tea, set the cup on the floor and shuffled down farther under the blanket.
Damn it if the Vulcan wasn't right, he was more comfortable than he'd been in a while. The sleepless nights had fully caught up with him, he felt sleep pulling it him and closed his eyes.
As he slipped into sleep he had to admit the Vulcan might not be as emotionless as he wanted everyone to believe.
But he wasn't going to tell anyone.