As he turned away from the intercom, the dim emergency lights suddenly sprang on and McCoy looked back at Velal who was shuddering in front of him, drenched in sweat, clawing at her shirt with one hand. As far as he could tell, she had further deteriorated. She was still trembling, sweating, and breathing hard, but she also seemed to be much weaker than before. Her appearance seemed to be almost vulnerable and frail now. There was a tear from the collar of her shirt down to her armpit, baring her shoulder. Her other hand was clutching his own shirt, while she was trying to pull him towards her. She should have been much stronger than him, but right now she was so lacking in control, that her movements were clumsy, uncoordinated, erratic. He briefly contemplated knocking her out. Given the state she was in, he didn't have a bad chance of succeeding, however, he quickly dismissed the thought. He was a doctor, and as such he had sworn an oath to prevent suffering. The strain of crawling along the Jeffries tube and the fear of her bond mate and his disruptor, had taken its toll on Velal. He let himself be pulled towards her, and then grabbed both her wrists, holding them bewteen them. His hands slowly slid up to reach hers. That had calmed her before, and he hoped it would now, too.
"Listen, Velal," he said, trying to hold her eyes which darted from left to right, moving like those of a wild, cornered animal, "I want to help you."
"Then, do!" she hissed, taking a step forward, pressing herself against his body. He swayed back and felt himself hit the wall. He sighed, then, mustering all his strength, he turned them both around, easily pinning Velal to the wall, her hands above her head.
Her eyes widened, as her back hit the wall, and McCoy frowned, surprised that it had been so easy to push her around.
"Look," he said gently, "we'll do this my way. No biting, scratching, hitting!"
Her eyes stopped moving around, and she looked into his eyes, an unreadable smile on her lips.
"I won't hurt you," she whispered, a slight tremor in her voice, "so please, don't hurt me."
McCoy was puzzled for a moment. Hurt her?
"No! Why would I do that?" he asked, although at the same time he was thinking of many reasons why he would. They all had to do with self-defense.
"You're a human. I'm a Romulan," she said, as if that would explain everything.
"And?"
"We're natural enemies, and at the moment, my life is completely in your hands."
McCoy wasn't sure if she was being calculating. Of all things she could have said that was what surely would make him compliant. He couldn't destroy life, and that's just what he'd do if he refused to help when it was in his power to save her. Being a Tal Shiar agent, she probably had studied his psychological profile thoroughly.
"Natural enemies?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow, "I'm not as pessimistic towards a peace between our races as you obviously are."
"I know the Romulan soul."
Her eyes were dark with emotion, only he could not quite make out which. Was it pain? Was it sorrow? Anger? Desire? Fear? Her hands were gripping his tightly, now. Her arms were still raised above her head, it must be uncomfortable, he thought.
"And yet, you are a Romulan, too," he said, gently pulling her arms down, "Don't you think peace between us is … desirable?"
She was struggling to control her trembling, without success, but her voice was quite calm when she said: "Right now, I wish for nothing else."