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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"Captain Pike," McCoy was saying to his patient early the next morning. "I want to make sure you understand. I think this treatment will work. But it has risks. I'm not a specialist in neurotransmission, so I may be off-base here. And, everything about this creature to date has been unpredictable so I can't be sure that, even if everything works in theory, it will work in practice."

"On. It."

McCoy smiled. By now he'd learned to decipher Pike's cryptic comments. The Captain was telling him to get on with it. "I will, sir. One more thing. If the treatment is successful, it should make it easier for you to communicate; it's not a complete cure and won't help with the sensory issues or the paralysis."

Pike's condition had continued to evolve. The nerve pain had decreased on its own, such that McCoy no longer needed to ply him with analgesics every time he awakened. In its place, another, more sinister symptom had emerged. Pike was now experiencing occasional paralysis affecting different parts of his body at different times. Suddenly, and without warning, he would lose sensation in his right lower leg, or his left fingers, or his facial muscles. It could last anywhere from a few seconds to hours. And then, just as suddenly, the feeling would return. The severity and unpredictability of the problem had both Pike and the medical staff on edge.

"Not sue."

McCoy exchanged an amused glance with his nurse. Pike wouldn't sue them! If the character of a man was measured by the way he faced adversity, Pike was approaching sainthood. Less than a week ago, he'd been one of the most powerful men in the universe, commanding the finest ship in Starfleet. Now, even though he couldn't feed himself, use the bathroom, walk, or even complete a sentence, he rarely complained.

McCoy had already tried the standard treatments for aphasia without success, probably because they weren't intended to treat speech processing issues that resulted from Romulan arthropods. He now believed that toxins from the creature had infiltrated Broca's area, or the speech center of the brain. He planned to introduce a chemical compound into the same area in the hopes it would bind to and neutralize the toxins. McCoy didn't even want to think of all of the things that could go wrong with his plan. Sure he'd explained the risks, but he'd explained them to a desperate man. As Pike's doctor and CMO, the decision to proceed was his.

"Let's get started."

Pike was awake for the procedure, given a local anesthetic before the probe was inserted into the brain. McCoy kept one eye on the monitors as he slowly introduced the chemical.

"Spinal pressure is rising, Doctor," Collins reported.

It was a predictable side effect. He kept going. "How are you holding up, Captain?"

"Warm."

He'd already explained to Pike that a warm, flushed feeling was to be expected when the chemical was introduced. Now he repeated that explanation.

The procedure was over quickly and the probe removed. The moment of truth had arrived. "Tell me your name," he said to Pike.

"Cap. . .Cap." Pike sighed in frustration. "Pike." He shook his head. "No. Work."

McCoy forced himself to meet Pike's eyes. The sadness in them was physically painful. McCoy tried to project an optimism he didn't feel. "It's too early to tell whether it's worked. Let's give it a little time."

Pike seemed to sense his despair. "Not. Fault."

Not his fault. If it wasn't his fault then who the hell's fault was it? It was all he could do not to toss every piece of medical equipment against the nearest wall. Damn, damn, damn. He'd been so sure he was on the right track. His experiment had failed and he had no earthly idea what else to try.

"See Kirk."

Pike was right. It was time, time for Jim to see for himself what had become of Pike and the limits of his own skills as a physician.

"Nelson!" He called over one of the medtechs. "Let Acting Captain Kirk know that Captain Pike is ready to see him."

"Doctor! Respiratory distress!" The nurse's voice, the shrieking of the monitors, and Pike's grabbing for his throat all competed for McCoy's attention. Sonofabitch!

"Belay that! Get a team in here, stat!" Pike couldn't breathe.

McCoy and the nurse moved by instinct, their reactions sharpened through years of dealing with respiratory emergencies. As he attached leads, administered medications, and provided breathing assistance, his mind raced. Had his novel treatment caused this or had the paralysis simply manifested itself in Pike's respiratory tract?

"Respirations 15, assisted," the nurse reported. "Vital signs stable."

"Let's run another series of neural transmission tests. See what we're dealing with." McCoy looked down at Pike's unconscious form. How much more of this could they all take?