Chief Kyle was still at the controls when McCoy beamed up. He stepped off the transporter pad, feeling drained and a little dizzy. Kyle moved from behind the console, taking his arm. McCoy tried to wave him off, but he was helped to a stool instead.
"I'll call Sickbay."
"No, wait. I just need a quick breather. I'm not used to this much activity yet." McCoy, trying to sound strong and confident, had a feeling he just sounded frail and old, but Kyle halted his motion toward the intercom.
"Can I get you anything?"
"No, thank you. I'll be all right in a minute. I was heading to Sickbay anyway." He breathed deeply for a few moments, then slipped down off the stool. "I can make it now."
Kyle punched the intercom button. "Backup to Transporter One, please." He looked at McCoy. "At least allow me to walk with you." McCoy nodded reluctantly. When a replacement crewmember arrived, he and Kyle left together, walking at a slower pace than usual. He was still winded when they got to Sickbay, his knees felt like jelly, and the newly healed injuries were complaining earnestly. He thanked Kyle, and Sanchez immediately helped him to the treatment room biobed.
"I'm here for my nutritional supplement."
Sanchez snorted as he examined the readings. "Your glucose is low. Somewhat dehydrated as well." Sanchez stepped into the sub room, returning with a large glass of orange colored liquid, ignoring McCoy's half-hearted protest as he raised the head of the bed and pulled the tray into position.
"Now, Doctor, you have a choice. You can drink this electrolyte solution, or I can slap an IV pack on your arm."
"With a ten gauge needle, I bet." McCoy took a sip, frowning at the taste.
Sanchez chuckled. "Let me help you out of your coat and get you some breakfast. You look pretty weak. Your T indicator is elevated. Do you want something for pain?"
"No. I'd rather eat in my quarters."
Sanchez sighed. "Suppose you finish your drink, eat a bite here with me, then you can return to quarters to rest. Or," his eyes glinted a bit with mischief, "I can call Doctor M'Benga for a consult."
"You drive a hard bargain, Bill. Fine. Grits and toast. And coffee."
Sanchez returned with a tray laden with the requested items, plus bacon, scrambled eggs, and fruit. McCoy scowled, but put butter in the grits, along with salt and pepper, and took a bite. Sanchez had his own coffee and a sweet roll. He pulled a chair beside the bed and set his coffee on McCoy's table.
McCoy found he could eat a bit more than he thought. Replicated grits were not too bad. He had helped with the synthesizer programming himself to improve the texture, but he was looking forward to a big bowl of the real thing when they returned to Earth. He ate them all, plus a few bites of the extras, washing it down with the electrolyte drink, feeling a little too full, but he admitted to himself he felt better. He raised his coffee in a little salute.
Sanchez removed his tray. "Did you see your birds?"
"Yes." He did not elaborate, and Sanchez didn't inquire further. He glanced at the readout, satisfied the pointers were headed in the right direction.
"Do you still want to return to quarters? I think that will be all right. But you must eat and stay hydrated. Here are your vitamins. " He pushed a hypo against his arm. "And here is the chip with the nutritional supplement menu, mostly in shakes or puddings. We'll be checking to make sure you're using it." He handed over a small square. McCoy palmed it without comment.
"I'll walk you to your cabin." Sanchez helped him from the biobed, grabbed his coat, and accompanied him the short distance to his quarters. He left him at the door with a final admonishment to eat and drink adequately.
"I'll try, Bill. Thanks." McCoy took his coat and entered his cabin, exhausted. He took the piece of sap from his coat pocket, kicked off his boots and lay gratefully on his bunk.
He turned the sap over in his fingers, watching it catch the light. Inside it was translucent, with tiny sparkles like a thousand minute rainbows. 'Irhid-Ohmefrai'. He whispered the word aloud. It was very smooth and warm in his hand. He felt himself relaxing and soon slept peacefully for the first time in days.
O. O. O. O.
T'Phol hesitated outside Sickbay, gathering her thoughts and perhaps the courage to face McCoy again. Their last meeting had been cool and civil, impersonal. His fire was absent, he had seemed detached. She could read very little of his zherka tam'a, except it was still present. She could not tell how much it had changed, if any. Certainly his behavior and attitude toward her was different than before. She drew and released a deep breath and entered Sickbay.
Nurse Chapel was at the reception desk, and nodded her greeting. T'Phol waited until she finished a notation on her log and shut it off.
"May I see Doctor McCoy? "
Chapel's expression was unreadable, but somehow softer than usual. "He's not here," she said gently.
T'Phol looked at her, an instant of confusion dissipating into understanding as she realized he must have been discharged and had not informed her. She resisted the urge to clear her throat.
"Is he in his quarters?"
"Hullo, T'Phol." M'Benga stepped out from his office. Chapel rose from her desk.
"I need to do the durables inventory," she said. "Excuse me, please." She left the room.
M'Benga produced two cups from the food synthesizer, handing one to T'Phol. "Will you join me for a cup of tea?" He pulled up the straight chair for T'Phol and took a seat behind Chapel's desk. She sat stiffly on the chair's edge, senses whirling in an unaccustomed fashion. She pretended to take a sip of tea.
M'Benga dark eyes regarded her solemnly. She took a breath, lifting her eyes to meet his.
"What is happening to Leonard?"
"In short, without betraying patient confidentiality...We don't know."
T'Phol stirred, but didn't say anything, so M'Benga continued, clasping his hands together on the desk in front of him.
"Doctor McCoy has suffered a serious brain injury, a type with no existing protocol for Human treatment. He survived a bout, although of short duration, with the Klingon mind-sifter. He survived being hidden in a low brain wave by a powerful telepath. Since his return, he has made enormous progress. His cognitive ability seems un-impaired. His memory is mostly intact. His skills are still there.
"But our entire journey through this event has been flying by the seat of our pants. We are reacting, rather than being proactive. Medically, that's never a good place to be. None of us know what might be next. So we're day by day, or more specifically, minute by minute, both in treatment and the recovery process.
"And if that scenario seems frightening for the physician, imagine how the patient might feel."
"Do you think he will make a full recovery? Will he be all right?" T'Phol leaned forward, shoulders tense.
"I hope so. I think he will. But it will take time. And space."
"Are you saying I should not see him?" T'Phol's chin thrust forward in stubborn resolve.
"Not at all." M'Benga smiled ruefully. "I couldn't stop you anyway. But you may find he's reluctant to engage. I thought you should be prepared in case he's not receptive."
T'Phol thought back to their last encounter and knew he was right. She stood.
"I hope you are wrong, but even so, I must see him. Thank you for your concern."
M'Benga nodded, watching her stiff posture as she left Sickbay.
o
T'Phol stood outside McCoy's cabin, collecting herself once again before feeling like she could face him. Instead of the chime, she knocked lightly on the door, knowing he would hear her if he was awake. There was no answer.
A crewman passed with a curious glance in her direction. She knocked again, but still no reply. Knowing she could not camp in the corridor, she reluctantly returned to her own cabin.
Edwin Teal had a beverage at the desk in the alcove. He beckoned to her to join him.
"Have you been visiting your physician friend? "
"I tried. He has moved from Sickbay into his quarters. He did not answer. I was afraid he was sleeping. I did not want to wake him."
T'Phol moved to the viewport and took her customary seat on the ledge. Aminta hung below them, grey and white, deceptively serene from orbit. She leaned against the coolness and concentrated on breathing, pacing her respiration, forcing her neck muscles and fingers to relax.
Teal observed her over the top of his cup, his eyes warm and sympathetic. "He'll be awake soon. He's been through quite a lot. It takes time, I'm sure."
"And space." T'Phol's voice sounded flat.
Teal's attention sharpened. "Quite likely, I suppose. Did Doctor M'Benga tell you that?"
T'Phol's brow rose. "In fact, he did. He warned me that Leonard's recovery could be long. He did not seem to think I would have a part in it."
Teal set his cup on the desk. "It is true, you will be back on Vulcan in a few days," he reminded her gently.
"I know." She turned her face to the viewport and stared at nothing.