Chapter Sixteen

It wasn't an infection. It was viral, which was both good and bad. McCoy couldn't treat a virus with antibiotics. It had to run its course. He had been anticipating something like this, given Jim's compromised immune system. He had hoped that Khan's blood would provide enough antibodies to stave off viruses. But then he had to worry about whatever viruses had been hanging around three hundred years ago; viruses to which Jim would have no immunity.

No wonder Starfleet was keeping such tight wraps on the situation, he thought as he stood at attention in the Surgeon General's office.

"You're sure?" the Surgeon General asked, peering up at him from the report.

"You see the results. It's TPV55, a common virus."

The older man looked down at the report and frowned. "His fever's very high for a common virus."

"Not for a newborn."

The grey eyes shot upward. "Are you making a joke, Doctor McCoy?"

"That's what Jim is, basically. He has no immunities to speak of, only what Khan's blood gave him, and I have no idea what they might be. His fever has stabilized, and I'm monitoring him."

"You're going to run a full viral spectrum on him with titers." It wasn't a question.

And it was completely unnecessary. Jim had a common virus, not the damn plague. A complete viral spectrum meant tissue, urine and spinal fluid samples – invasive procedures he would rather not put Jim through now. But he wasn't calling the shots; Starfleet was, and this might be the only way to put the whole issue to bed and get Jim off the radar once and for all.

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

McCoy walked out of the office with much more control than he had given himself credit for. He knew being called into the SG's office wasn't going to be pleasant, and he supposed he should be grateful that the Old Man didn't insist on hospitalizing Jim. Still, the titers were overkill.

He punched the call button for the lift and waited impatiently. He was anxious to get back to Jim. He had left a nurse to stay with him during his absence, but the young man's fever was high and McCoy wanted a familiar face there when Jim woke up.

He entered Jim's apartment and noticed the silence. It was early evening and the sun was setting. Kyle Bracken, the nurse he had assigned to stay, had lowered the filters on the row of windows that filled the west side of Jim's apartment. Jim was asleep on the bed in almost the exact position as when McCoy had left him.

Kyle stepped out of the kitchen. The tall, Nordic man had an athletic build and soft eyes that put his patients instantly at ease. He was well-known for managing difficult patients.

"How was he?" McCoy asked the nurse.

"Sleeping most of the time. A little restless, but that's the fever." Bracken walked into the living area and picked up his PADD. "He ate a little. He seems uncomfortable. He said he didn't want anything."

"Did you try some cold compresses?" he asked.

"Yeah…he didn't go for that."

McCoy smiled in spite of himself. Giving Jim a male nurse probably threw the young man for a loop to begin with, but having that male nurse tend him so intimately was definitely pushing his limits.

"Do you need anything else?" Bracken asked.

He shook his head, studying the readings on the PADD. "Thanks. I can take it from here."

As the nurse moved toward the door, he hesitated, and then stopped a few feet from the exit. "He's not what I expected," he said timidly.

McCoy looked up at the man, his eyes sharpening.

"You know…the guy who saved Earth…who hunted down a criminal."

Yeah, he knew.

"I heard he's getting the Medal of Honor." Bracken paused with a small frown. "They say he gave his life for the lives of everyone on his ship."

McCoy remained standing, watching the tall blond with an undecipherable expression. Everything had gone still inside of him. With vivid images, he recalled the video footage, the agonizing climb that Jim had made while his body was flooded with radiation, the pain searing his nerves, never quitting until his ship was safe. Others didn't see him as human, but a hero to be worshipped, a celebrity to be venerated. His sacrifice was a tale to tell at the bar one night – how someone had met the great Jim Kirk.

"He did," McCoy said.

Bracken nodded, suddenly serious and thoughtful. "I can see that." With that, he left.

McCoy wasn't certain what to make of the exchange. Jim was his friend and patient. It was difficult to see Jim as this larger-than-life figure. They had both entered the Academy together, beaten down and indigent. McCoy had been looking to hide; Jim had been looking to find himself. Maybe that was why they had become unlikely friends.

The sound of movement drew his attention toward the bed. He stood by the bed and watched Jim's slow climb to consciousness. It always amazed him how young his friend looked in sleep, released from the responsibilities of command, from the burdens he placed on himself to do better, the recklessness that had driven him into the warp core. McCoy remembered last night….

Scotty and McCoy stood in engineering, their arms crossed over their chests as they faced the taciturn Vulcan. It was third shift and Enterprise had only a skeleton repair crew. At the moment, engineering was empty, save for the three conspirators who stood around the central computer system.

"Well?" McCoy prompted.

"What we are about to do is grounds for court-martial."

"We know that."

"Aye," Scotty said. "No one knows the vid exists. Ya can erase it from the banks and no one will ever see it."

That was why they were there – to erase any possibility of the video getting out into the public. They had all watched it. They had seen…and now they wanted to be rid of it…for themselves and for Jim.

The Vulcan nodded once and tapped a command into the computer.

Jim wasn't going to change. He was his father's son, willing to risk his life without hesitation. McCoy understood that now. He couldn't get Jim to slow down or to think things through before leaping into the unknown. It would be like asking him to stop breathing. McCoy could only be there for him, to be the sounding board when he need it, to care for him – even when he thought he didn't need it – to put him back together when he had come undone, to simply be there for him as a friend who didn't care if the man succeeded or failed.

He just sat on the edge of the bed until Jim opened his eyes. It took a while for the blue eyes to focus.

"Where's Thor?" Jim asked; his voice rough.

"Nurse Bracken left." He grabbed a scanner and ran a quick diagnostic. Blood-pressure was slightly elevated. Kidney function looked good. "You don't like my choice of nurse?"

"What happened to that pretty redhead from the hospital?"

McCoy looked up from his scanner. "Your blood pressure is already elevated. You don't need any more stimulation."

Jim gave him a pained expression. "I hate to break this to you, Bones, but I couldn't do anything about it even if I was stimulated."

"That won't last too long," he said sympathetically. He knew that Jim had had no sex-drive since his injury, but he didn't want the young man to think it was permanent. "I'll warn the female population when you're ready."

Jim smiled. "Don't give them too much of a head start."

McCoy raised both eyebrows in a knowing look and returned his attention to the scanner, focusing on Jim's cardiovascular system. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired."

He nodded. Jim's heart was strong with a steady sinus rhythm. The minor damage done earlier had been successfully repaired with medication and treatment. In another few days he could eliminate one more medication from Jim's list. "Your back feeling okay?"

"It's fine, Bones," Jim said heavily. "Where did you rush off to?"

A smile tugged at the corners of McCoy's mouth. He hadn't rushed off; Jim had slept through the day, losing any sense of time. "Starfleet Medical."

"Bet that was fun." Jim frowned. "What's the prognosis?"

He put the scanner away. "I hate to tell you, Jim, but you have a common virus. Nothing unique or catastrophic. You should be feeling better in the next twenty-four hours. Your cultures look good."

"You say the nicest things." Jim looked at McCoy. "What did they really say?"

He took a breath. "They want some tests run for their own assurance."

"What kind of tests?"

"Nothing major, just samples. We don't have to do them today."

"Are you worried?"

"No." McCoy rested his arms on his knees. "The virus is a good sign; it means everything is normal. I'll continue to administer your medications in the morning, and as long as you don't have any relapses, you can continue PT in another two days."

Jim's eyes lit. "You're cutting me loose?"

"No. Don't get too excited. I want another ten kilos on you and you still have to pass Psych before I can think about returning you to half-duty."

"Half-duty?" Jim pushed up on his elbows with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "You're going soft, Bones. Next thing you know you'll be singing to your patients."

"Don't count on it." He looked at his friend. "Do you want something to eat?"

Jim shook his head.

"How about a shower? I called the service. They can change the sheets and freshen up the apartment." He watched Jim closely. "You'll feel better moving around a bit."

"You're making me nervous, Bones. Are you sure nothing happened at Medical?"

"Nothing happened at Medical. I just thought you'd like to feel ordinary for a while."

Jim's expression softened. "I would."

"So, get your skinny ass out of bed," he said rising. "Spock's bringing dinner tonight and you know how fastidious that Vulcan is. Wouldn't want to offend him."

Jim sat up slowly. "I'm not sure you can offend a Vulcan, Bones."

McCoy didn't offer to help Jim as the man stood, albeit unsteadily. It was Jim who put a hand on his shoulder, and they looked at each other, saying nothing, because there was nothing to say. They had each other's back, and the Vulcan's, too. They had been through life and death together, and they were still standing, still friends. McCoy held Jim's gaze and inclined his head as if to say, 'thank you and you're welcome.'

Jim's hand lingered as he walked past McCoy, then fell away with his retreating steps.