A/N: I told myself I would have this chapter done before my mom came to visit and now that was 3 weeks ago. This one was a little tricky to get started, and the result is a slightly different 'feel' (more... philosophical? Ruminating? You tell me), but I kinda like it. Anyway, thank you for your patience and enjoy!

Vigilance

Any doctor would tell you that an ounce of prevention was worth ten times the cure. Dr. McCoy himself would readily agree. His job would be far easier if people (particularly ensigns in engineering and two certain people on the bridge) would make far less stupid decisions.

However, Dr. McCoy was sadly also a firm believer in the phrase 'you can't cure stupid', though no one was sure if his steadfast belief in this was a resignation to the truth after a lifetime of trying to prevent stupidity through excessive mother-henning, or simply part of his bedside manner.

What only the medical staff knew, however, was that the emergence of Mom FriendTM in the doctor happened far more often than the usual rants, and far more subtly. They knew this not only from working closely with McCoy, but because they did it, as well.

Even if it was an average day on the Enterprise, nothing ever quite slowed down. McCoy would generally see the Gamma shift engineers finishing up in the mess hall as he prepared for Alpha shift, and would silently catalogue the various levels of fatigue in them. The circles under Lt. Villenueve's eyes were a lot darker than normal – but there was no sign of coughing or congestion so it was likely just lack of sleep. If they were still super dark tomorrow McCoy would approach him with the offer of a sleep aide, or perhaps engage a conversation to see if anything was going on that was upsetting the lieutenant.

Nurse Radner was always bouncy and cheery in the morning, but one morning she wasn't. She was still quite perky, but the usual bounce was gone. Halfway through the shift she didn't take a lunch. After sharing his observations privately with Chapel, his head nurse whisked Radner off for a chat and returned with a request for stronger birth control pills that didn't induce the mild nausea the lady had been feeling.

Jim was squinting on the bridge, and rubbing his head whenever he thought McCoy wasn't looking. As if McCoy didn't notice. Migraines were no fun and he well knew how susceptible the captain was to them. He wordlessly passed some headache pills to him when they took their lunch together.

Every crewman had their tells, and while some tells were the same for certain symptoms, everyone reacted more in line with their general beliefs on illness and injury. McCoy knew which crewmembers preferred to power through a case of sniffles, and which ones contacted Sickbay for every bruise. Maintaining this vigil on the health of the crew went further than the physical. McCoy kept an eye out for people who looked like they needed an encouraging word that day, and respected the privacy of others who preferred to not talk about 'it' and soldier on their own. There were sharers and not-talkers, criers and jokesters, complainers and optimists who all dealt with this thing called 'life' in their own unique ways as they sailed along in this silver ship.

And that was McCoy's business. Keeping a watch on life for when it needed him to act. He liked to think that meant something.