Rating: PG-13 for language

Disclaimer: Would love to own ST, but I just borrow the characters and return them intact

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"Dr. McCoy!" Collins called to him from the other room. "It's Captain Pike. He's waking up."

McCoy apologized to Ensign Rao, left a nurse to finish her vision evaluation, and within seconds was beside his most worrisome patient. After four hours of surgery and over thirty in a drug-induced sleep, the moment of truth had arrived.

Pike's eyes were blinking rapidly, head moving side to side, shoulders twitching. His lower body remained still.

"Feracol?" his nurse asked, asking if they should administer a stimulant that would speed the waking process.

McCoy shook his head. "Not yet. Let's see how he does without the meds."

Suddenly, Pike's eyes shot open with a look that McCoy could only describe as sheer terror. He gently rested a hand on Pike's upper arm – aiming for the balance between reassurance and restraint. "Captain Pike," he said softly.

Pike struggled to speak. "Pike." It came out in almost a whisper. "Seven." A pause. "Ent . . ."

"Captain Pike, you're on board the Enterprise. You're safe now."

Pike's eyes closed for an instant then shot open again. "Pike." It was said more vehemently this time. "Prize?" Then, without warning, Pike screamed.

The K-3 indicator revealed that Pike was in severe pain. McCoy pressed a hypo to Pike's jugular, the screaming stopped and the monitors confirmed the pain level was dropping.

"Captain. Captain Pike!" This time McCoy spoke more forcefully and slowly Pike's gaze fell on him.

"I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy. You're aboard the Enterprise, in the medical bay. It's been two days since you went over to the Romulan ship." Rule one: orient patients as to time and status.

Pike again tried to speak. "Pike . . . Ferkris."

McCoy swallowed a deep breath. Pike was obviously having trouble processing speech and seemed to be repeating bits of information he was permitted to give under interrogation, neither of which was a good sign.

Pike's gaze wandered toward the nurse. McCoy nodded encouragingly.

"Captain Pike, I'm Ensign Collins." She smiled broadly. "I've been taking care of you since you got back."

There was no reaction from their patient. McCoy mentally reviewed his options. There were drugs that should help clear the confusion Pike was experiencing. Drugs to help with neurotransmission, with motor skills, with memory. A goddamned pharmacy.

McCoy wasn't reticent about using the modern medications at his disposal. On the other hand, he'd seen too many patients overmedicated by doctors anxious to relieve symptoms before they fully understood what was wrong with their patient. And sometimes the very drugs designed to ease symptoms ended up masking important ones. He intended to proceed slowly and carefully.

"Captain Pike, can you tell me your first name?'

Pike closed his eyes, knitting his eyebrows in concentration. "Chhrriss," he finally said.

"Very good. And what is your rank?" Quick memory test since McCoy had just called him Captain.

Again there was intense focus. "Cap . . . tain."

McCoy smiled. "Excellent. Do you know where you are?"

"Ship."

"Which ship?"

"Nero."

"No, your ship."

"Prize."

McCoy smiled reassuringly to cover the lump forming in his throat. Like the rest of the crew, he liked and respected Pike, a commanding officer who was universally considered tough but fair. Starfleet had given him command of their newest and best starship for a good reason. Pike in turn had his choice of officers, which meant McCoy was aboard the Enterprise because Pike had specifically requested him. And that decision was probably the one reason he was alive right now and not a piece of debris floating around the vacuum of space.

McCoy had seen his share of mangled bodies – patching them up is what he did best and he'd done his best surgically with Pike. Bodies could be fixed; brains, not so easily. It hurt to see a man who, three days before, had led a ship into battle now barely able to complete a word, let alone form sentences. And trauma surgeon and recently minted CMO Leonard McCoy had damned little idea what to do about it.

He folded back the sheet over Pike's right arm. "Captain Pike, move your right hand for me." He watched for any movement of the fingers or arm. Nothing. Damn.

"Come on, Captain, your right hand. Move your fingers." The fingers remained still.

"Doctor McCoy." Nurse Collins pointed at Pike's left shoulder. Realization dawned. McCoy didn't want to utter the words, knew what the result would be, but had to go on.

"Once more," he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral. "Try to move your right hand."

As he and Nurse Collins watched, Pike's left shoulder slowly moved up and down.

*****************************

Predictably, Jim called him an hour later. "Is Pike awake?"

"Come down here for your treatment and I'll fill you in."

"Bones, I've got to spend the day in engineering, see if there isn't a way to increase our speed."

"And you'll be a lot more effective after you get treatment for those deep bruises."

When Jim asked how long the procedure would take, McCoy knew he'd eked out another small victory.

He watched as Jim made his way through the medical bay stopping by each bed. He greeted each patient by name, asked about their medical status, their jobs, whether they'd had a chance to notify their relatives that they were safe. The Acting Captin had done his homework.

Kirk's final stop was Pike's bed, where the Captain was again unconscious. "So?"

"So, Captain Pike woke up briefly an hour ago."

"And?"

"Honestly, Jim. I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure? Is he okay or isn't he?"

McCoy shook his head. "Definitely not okay."

"Explain."

"Let me get the treatment started and I'll explain." They moved into the next room where he motioned for Jim to lie down on the exam table.

McCoy ignored Jim's pained look as he positioned the apparatus over his right hip, seizing the opportunity to scan the rest of his body. "As I told you and Spock yesterday, that creature Nero introduced into Pike's nervous system left havoc in its path. He's suffering from severe pain and I haven't been able to determine the source. My guess – but it's only that – is that it's originating in the nerve fibers." He glanced at the monitors – Jim was in better shape than he'd expected. At least there was some good news.

"And," he continued, "the Captain is having trouble processing speech. He appears to understand what I'm saying, but has trouble formulating responses."

"Okay, so how do you help him?"

"I'm not finished. I told you that I had concerns about his neural responses. Based on my preliminary findings, I'm worried that his neural pathways are compromised."

"What the hell does 'compromised' mean? Why can't you doctors speak plain Standard."

McCoy rolled his eyes in annoyance. Did Jim think he liked the situation with Pike? Nero created this mess; he was simply trying to fix it. "To put it bluntly, Captain Pike can't control his body. The commands from his brain to his limbs aren't routing properly."

"Can you make him better?"

"I don't know."

Jim sat up from the table. "What do you mean you don't know? Are you a doctor or aren't you?"

McCoy bit down on his lip so hard he nearly drew blood. Of course he was a doctor. He was a damned good doctor who'd left a really good surgical practice to spend three years playing space cadet, only to nearly get killed on his first assignment. And, whether he wanted to be or not, whether he was qualified or not, he was also the fucking CMO of this ship. And right now, it all added up to zero in terms of helping Captain Pike. And he didn't need Acting Captain Jim Kirk to remind him of his own medical impotence.

"Jim, lie back down." His tone was sharper than it needed to be, which McCoy knew from experience would only further antagonize his friend.

"I don't want to fucking lie down. I want to know what you're going to do for Captain Pike."

"I know how much he means to you—"

"Don't give me that. He's the CO of this ship. He risked his life to save the Enterprise, Vulcan, Earth, and all of Starfleet, and you're telling me you don't know what's wrong with him or whether you can make him better?"

"I'm doing everything I can, Captain, to make Captain Pike well. However, I'm not a neurologist and this ship is not equipped to do extensive neurological testing or rehabilitation."

Jim glared at him for nearly a minute. "I want to see him the next time he wakes up."

"I don't think so."

"Well, I do."

"In my medical opinion, Captain Pike is not ready for visitors."

"Not even the Acting Captain?"

"Especially not the Acting Captain."

"Dammit, McCoy."

"Jim, right now Captain Pike is of no help to you and, quite honestly, I'm not sure he will be any time soon. There may come a point when seeing you will help him, but it's not today. And until, in my medical opinion, your presence will benefit him, you don't see him."

"Bones, don't push me."

"This isn't about you. It's about doing what's best for Captain Pike."

Jim hopped off the exam table and this time McCoy didn't try to stop him. He turned at the door. "Very well, Doctor. I want a daily report on Pike's condition on my desk by 0700."

"You'll have it, Captain."