A/N: Chapter 3! Sorry it took a little longer. Enjoy!
Contagious
The general idea of being a doctor in Starfleet tends to involve a mental picture of wielding a hypo and curing plagues and mending broken bones.
While that is more or less true, the unspoken side effects of such duties are less glamorous. For example, there is also the undeniable fact that when dealing with any plague or illness, providing the contagion is communicable across species, the group second to the initial victims to be affected is the medical staff treating them.
In other words, eventually you will get sick.
"Spock, if you say 'illogical' one more time, I'm gonna sneeze on you," McCoy grumbled with an accompanying hacking sound.
"If you are implying that the sneeze is a threat, may I remind you that Vulcans are immune to the Havorian Damp?"
McCoy waved his hand at him as he bent back over the microscopic viewer. "Implying that my threat is illogical still counts as saying 'illogical'."
Spock raised an eyebrow. "Then you yourself have just said the word you wish to abstain from. Twice."
McCoy sneezed.
Spock took stock of the doctor as he blew his nose, and decided that, considering the state of the other nurses and staff that had fallen 'under the weather', so to speak, McCoy was holding up reasonably well. He was mildly curious as to how the doctor managed to see through the viewer with his eyes so watery. The Earth idiom 'desperate times call for desperate measures' briefly floated through his brain.
The situation wasn't desperate for the Enterprise but it was for the tiny colony on Havor II. What were sniffles and coughs for humans were stomach bleeding and respiratory distress for the colonists. Havorians were familiar with the sickness, however an outbreak on their first off-world colony had quickly spread into a full-blown epidemic, prompting the homeworld to call for Federation aid.
And so now McCoy was in the lab with Spock, hacking and shivering and sneezing, as they looked over fixing a possible mutation in the virus.
Spock glanced at the chronometer and then back at McCoy. "Doctor, if I am not mistaken, it is a full half hour past your scheduled shift. I understand that prolonged activity only exacerbates illnesses in humans."
McCoy spared him a glare from the viewer. "Mr. Spock, you're a scientist, not a doctor."
"Just as you are sick and not well," Spock pointed out.
McCoy sighed in exasperation and leaned back. "Yes, Mr. Spock, but we have 3 nurses down already and a handful of orderlies and volunteers distributing medicine also affected. I've put M'Benga in charge ofSickbay's mass distribution and the only thing I'm working on is investigating this li'l bugger. I can do that much with a runny nose."
"I am aware of the situation, Doctor."
"Then what is your point?!"
"Merely that the last culture you looked at contained the results we were looking for and the current one under your scope is from yesterday's tests."
McCoy did a double-take and looked at his viewer, surprised. Seizing the distraction, Spock reached out and calmly nerve-pinched the worn-out man.
Taking a moment to collect McCoy in a way that was somewhat comfortable, Spock exited the lab and carried the doctor to his office. M'Benga was inside retrieving an item when they entered and looked up at first in concern, then understanding.
"He's not going to be happy," the other doctor quipped.
"He will," Spock replied, lying him down on the cot set up in the corner. "If you will follow me, Dr. M'Benga, we have found the appropriate medications needed to counteract the mutated version of the virus."
The two men left back for the lab… but after taking a moment to dim the lights and leaving tissues and a meal card programmed for chicken soup on the table beside the snoring doctor.