Chapter 19- Sickness and Misery

I sat wearily in the chair and allowed Spock to nearly exsanguinate me. I thought bloodletting went out of fashion with the dark ages, but I was apparently mistaken. "You know, Spock, there are only 10 pints of blood in a human body. I can make more, but I am feeling kind of dizzy here." I said lolling my head in his direction.

He regarded me with his usual fixed stare and unsympathetically replied, "I can safely remove 20% of your total blood volume or two pints before you exhibit signs of loss such as paleness or dizziness. I am not certain how many attempts it will take before a vaccine is perfected or how much blood I will need for the process of synthesis and testing. Therefore, I will extract the allowable amount at one sitting to prevent subsequent needle insertions. According to Dr. McCoy's medical reference database, I am not permitted to collect more until 56 days have passed. "

I looked away slightly panicked at the thought of missing 20% of my body's blood. It seemed like an awfully big hole in my being. I knew it was for a good cause, but I wondered if I was going to die in the process. When he had exactly two pints, he disconnected me and began his work at the microscopes. "It would seem that this virus is very similar to one in the Starfleet database that had been declared eradicated in 2107 causing a disease referred to as measles."

"Yeah, I have antibodies to that because I was vaccinated as a kid." I stood up slowly and concentrated very hard on not passing out. I wanted to just lay down for awhile, but I promised McCoy I would check on him again and it was probably the longest two floor ride of my life.

He was sitting up in bed reading the file I had sent him with a frown. He glanced up and observed, "You look like shit."

I was too tired to care about the insult although on any other day I wouldn't have let it slide. "Spock bled me dry." I sighed plopping down in his chair by the bed. "He is trying to make a vaccine from antibodies in my blood. Imagine that! You have the second 'M' of the useless MMR vaccine I got waaaay back in the stone age." I mocked with a smile. "Smile, you have measles. Or at least something close enough to it."

"How much did he take?" He asked suspiciously. I held up two fingers and he went on. "I hope that means pints. Christ, was he trying to kill you?"

"He said he researched it and your computer said it was safe." It didn't seem right at the time, but I had no reason to question him.

"If you are a 300 pound male, yes!" He growled wild eyed. "Goddamn! That's what I get for leaving him unattended down there." He calmed somewhat and added, "You must be pretty damn tired, but you had better drink up to thin out what blood you do have before your blood pressure goes all screwy and you hit the deck like a ton of bricks."

"I will." I promised standing and swaying again. "I just wanted to see how you were."

"A hell of a lot better than you by the looks of it." He scowled none too happy.

"Ok, then." I replied airily. "I am off to bed. Call me if you need anything." He didn't say a word other than his narrowed eyes expressing great displeasure and wariness.

I drank two glasses of water before I went to bed thinking that somehow it would all equal out in the end and fell into a deep sleep. It only lasted long enough for McCoy's paranoia to get the better of him and give him the drive to drag himself out of bed and stalk the halls like the walking dead. I only knew this because at some point he came to my room on his travels and forced me to drink more water. No matter what I said or how I scolded him, he sat motionless on the bed and watched the water disappear down my throat without saying a word or even acknowledging that any of my tirades registered. He had work to do and come hell or high water he was going to see to it consequences be damned. "You don't have to worry about Jim." I stated between gulps. "You will be the orchestrator of your own death with this pigheaded…" He casually tipped the bottom of the glass in my hand forcing me to either spill it all over myself or stop talking to drink it. "I will get you for that." I vowed after I had finished the glass. He only smiled as he walked out the door and on to his next victim.

I slept for a few more hours and woke up feeling a little weak, but better than before. I went to sickbay to check on Spock although I knew there were no new developments because he would have paged me. Sulu had apparently been discharged, but I found McCoy trying to examine a mostly uncooperative Jim who was upset he had been knocked out and missed a crisis on the ship. "Don't look at me like that!" Jim howled. "You look like the fucking exorcist! You are seriously creeping me out, man."

I approached Jim's side and tried to calm him somewhat until I saw what he was talking about. McCoy's eyes were blood red just like some of the others had been. His condition was clearly deteriorating. "Stop being such a pussy." McCoy scolded. "The sooner we get this over the sooner I will let you go so you can go cause trouble somewhere else. Now hold still!" Jim stared at the ceiling with his mouth drawn tight in displeasure, but he allowed McCoy to scan his chest and coughed and breathed deeply when he was told to in order to prove he did not have pneumonia. And when it came to Jim, verifiable evidence was required because his word alone was not always sufficient. He would have claimed to be the Tooth Fairy if he thought it would have got him off the table any faster. Apparently satisfied, he gruffly barked, "Now go to your room."

Jim sat up and eyed him with just a little bit of irritation. "Do I get to eat my supper first, Daddy, or do I have to go to bed hungry?" McCoy gave him a warning glare and Jim jumped down off the table holding his gaze with equal ferocity. It was just like the last showdown they had in sickbay when the other captured humans were rescued from the Romulans.

"Guys." I sighed blocking their respective views. "Jim, I'm glad to see you are felling better, but you probably should rest. McCoy, Jim has a point- you probably should rest too."

Jim relaxed a little at least being understood, but McCoy wasn't so congenial. "You don't get to tell me what to do." He growled at me in a low tone with a very angry look in his eye. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"Bones!" Jim cried incredulously. "Don't talk to her like that, she is only trying to help you, you arrogant dick!"

McCoy's eyes flashed with rage. "Fuck you, Jim! I take orders from you only because I fucking have to. I will not take marching orders from her!"

I was struggling to get control of the situation while simultaneously trying to figure out what had gotten into McCoy to make him act like this. "McCoy," I said calmly stretching my hand toward him, "I did not order you to do anything. But if we can all just be rational here…"

He squinted and slapped my hand out of the way. "Fuck you, Collins!" He hissed.

Before I could compose a response, Jim had jumped the gap between us and tackled McCoy to the floor and gave him a few swift, hard punches to the head. "Fucker!" He yelled getting up. "Beating on women, now? Jesus, Bones. I thought better of you." McCoy wiped blood from his mouth and let his head hit the floor with a sigh. Jim stood over him shaking with adrenaline, his fists clenched tightly and smeared with blood. He looked down at his friend with such sadness and confusion it was heartbreaking. Spock appeared from the lab and observed the scene with a slightly raised eyebrow, but decided against commenting on the issue other than to say, "I believe I have found the correct amalgamation. I will have individual doses for shipwide distribution within the hour."

"Thanks, Spock." Jim panted finally unclenching his fists. McCoy rolled his head and mumbled incoherently with his eyes at half-mast. The thin sheen of perspiration that layered his pale skin just below his hairline caught my attention. I slowly knelt beside him and placed the back of my hand against his forehead. He didn't fight or shy away, all that was long gone and he was left with only an all consuming lethargy. I fetched a tricorder from a cart and took his temperature. When the results came, I stared at it in horror.

I looked at Jim in shock. "106.4" As far as I knew, McCoy was a healthy adult aside from the infection and the magic number for brain damage was 107.6 so there was no real cause for panic. However, one small degree seemed like a sliver and just a breath away from flirting with disaster. But with a fever that high, he would certainly not be thinking straight and may have even been suffering from altered perception or delusions.

"That sounds like a very bad thing." He said nervously. "What do we do?"

"Get him to his room." I instructed. "Spock, let me know when you are done with the doses and I will come and help you deliver them."

Even though Jim was not at his best himself, he struggled valiantly to get his friend to his room by practically dragging him most of the way. It was no easy feat because McCoy was limp with exhaustion and consisted of mostly dead weight. Jim was driven by the compulsion to help a friend in need, but he no doubt also felt a certain measure of guilt for beating him when he wasn't completely in control of what he was doing. Rationally I knew this, but my hand still stung from his swat and the words that hurt even more. I wasn't sure how much of it was deeply buried truth and how much was gibberish.

Jim helped me remove his clothes down to a shirt and his boxers and we covered him up despite his protests that he was too hot. I used his replicator to make aspirin which I crushed and mixed with water for him to drink. Hopefully it would bring his fever down and mask some of the pain from his split lip. Jim and I sat with him and took turns placing a cool cloth on his forehead to make him a little more comfortable. Finally, the aspirin took effect and he fell into a light sleep. Jim leaned forward and sighed looking first at his bloody knuckles and then to his friend. "You know I have never actually punched him before?" He asked rhetorically. "As many times as I threatened to kick his ass, I have never had the balls to actually do it. And you know what? It sucks."

"You didn't know, Jim." I said in a soft voice. "I didn't either until I saw him sweating."

"I should have, though." He replied bitterly. "You would like to think that you know someone after living with them and being friends with them for years. I knew it wasn't like him to act like that. I can't even tell you at what point I snapped. I just did."

"As bad as you may feel, Jim, think about how he will feel when he wakes up and hears about what he did." I stated.

"Do you forgive him?" He asked with sad blue eyes. "Can you just shrug and say it doesn't matter that he hit you and said those things?"

I couldn't look at him because although I could shrug, I couldn't absolutely be sure that he didn't mean it. "I can." I could shrug and say it didn't matter, but was I really just lying to myself or making excuses for him? "You stay here, I am going to see how the vaccine is coming." I said curtly getting up.

I didn't hate Jim, it was an honest question. What I hated was the realization that it wouldn't have been the first time that had ever happened to me and I was dangerously close to letting someone have that much control over me again. That wasn't what I worked so hard to get away from. He may not have meant any of it, but that was not the point. Somewhere along the way I had traded my hard fought independence for what? A brief, superficial, courtly love that only made my loneliness deeper in the absence of the real thing. I had to give the benefit of the doubt to McCoy because maybe he really was delusional, but even so it didn't make it hurt any less.

Spock regarded me with a cautious eye while he divided up the vials of clear liquid for us to carry and administer. He had noticed that something was very wrong, but seemed unsure about how to tactfully approach it without seeming to take sides. In the end he said nothing and I was grateful for it, taking my half of the allotment and heading for the upper decks while he took the lower. I moved almost wordlessly from room to room injecting, cleaning and reloading the hypo with each arm I came in contact with. No one asked questions, they just quietly obeyed as sheep. I knew that Spock, by virtue of his very presence demanded the same cooperation. I injected Jim and McCoy with speed and a sense of urgency, leaving Jim to rub his arm squinting. I beat Spock back to sickbay and simply dropped my bag of empty vials on a counter and retreated to my room to hide from the world and attempt to quell the maelstrom of foreboding feelings that threatened to choke me to death.