The last part of this is for everyone who loves Bones...

Chapter 63 - Red Flags


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Spock paused, absorbing the information Selina had shown him and isolating the images sequentially. She had done well in extracting this, but sifting impressions from a human subconscious was inevitably a messy affair. "I do not recognize the context for these, but the screen configuration resembles that in the ship's command center. The information will certainly provide a basis for conducting a more thorough search of the ship's command records. I shall begin work on that at once."

"What of the data chips from his private records?"

"As they were dated significantly prior to our encounter with Maldi, I can delegate their decryption and give this precedence."

Spock studied her. He had sensed a greater degree of agitation than would be expected following meditation, but he knew that the threat Maldi represented was still fresh in her mind. "Since the Aldrin is currently securing the smugglers' base, his nearest allies are unlikely to be in any position to assist him in the near future. However, I shall ensure that Command is made aware that extra precautions should be taken during his transfer."

Her posture relaxed slightly. "Then I shall leave this in your hands for now. There is one other thing that I will ask of you, although it is of lesser importance." She pulled a small device from her pocket and laid it on his desk. "It confirms what I already knew, but I believe you are better qualified to make a judgment as to its disposition."

The door chimed and Spock slipped the device into his desk drawer. "Come."

Nyota entered. "Good. Having you both here should make this easier. I just finished reviewing Kirk's report on questioning Maldi."

Spock's head tilted. "You review the Captain's reports?"

"As chief communications officer I intend to make sure Enterprise communications, especially to Admirals, maintain some level of professionalism." Her mouth formed a thin line.

"Most commendable," Spock acknowledged warmly. "In what respect does it concern both of us?"

"Maldi's accounts were cleaned out by both Erik the Red and Rick Cerveny." She widened her eyes. "That isn't going to raise any red flags?"

Spock exchanged a glance with Selina and raised his eyebrows. "It does represent an interesting linguistic coincidence."

"Indeed." Selina's eyebrows elevated slightly in return. "One might almost imagine that Mr. 'Cerveny' was daring someone to notice that he had been following in Erik's wake, and yet you, Nyota, seem to be the first to have independently noted the connection - other than Erik himself. Even I only learned of it from him."

Nyota's brows drew together. "So... this guy tailed him?"

Selina looked as though she were weighing that statement. "In a sense, yes."

"But Allen knows who he is then."

"Given the current state of his memory, I would say that 'knows' is the wrong tense." Selina looked frankly at Nyota and sighed. "Until and unless it becomes necessary, I would much prefer not to remind him."

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Jim gave up on breathing, or at least trying to concentrate on breathing. Sitting still had never been his forte and oddly he felt a little alone being all by himself in his own head. Part of his brain was already half-formulating another excuse to get back into Selina's. -Whoa- That was weird. When had strategies for getting into her mind superseded ones for getting into more interesting portions of her anatomy? ...Clearly not early enough to keep her here coaching him on meditation, he thought ruefully.

While Spock was probably on top of whatever Maldi was up to by now, Jim couldn't to let it go. He just needed to follow his own methods. Trying too hard was the kiss of death. He needed to loosen up, switch mental gears and wait for the solution to come to him.

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McCoy stared at his half-finished report and then hit the Delete button. He realized on review that it was all wrong. There was probably something wrong with him too that it took a few fingers of bourbon for him to be thinking clearly enough to see that.

He re-queued the recording of his session with Sorenson from the point where they'd both stopped pretending it wasn't a session. But this time he turned off the sound - which wasn't helpful anyway - and just watched body language. He still couldn't be certain that it meant anything, but there had definitely been at least two points when his posture and expression shifted for no clear reason. He was about to replay it again when his door chimed - at least that meant it couldn't be Jim. Probably some idiot in engineering had soldered his fingers.

"What is it?" he growled.

Selina stood in the doorway. "I will return later if this is not a good time."

Dammit. She was the last person he wanted to snarl at. "Not at all, m'dear." He smiled apologetically and rose to usher her in. "What can I do for you?"

She allowed him to lead her to a seat. "I came to inquire what you had determined about Fafhrd."

His smile drooped a little, but he shored it up. What did you think she came for? "Not as much as I'd have liked to. I think I'm gonna have to officially classify him an Icelander if only to save face with Christine."

She smiled kindly. "Do not feel badly Len. I have known him for years, and yet, as you have witnessed, he still manages occasionally to mislead me." She raised an eyebrow. "For someone with appalling skills as an actor, he lies remarkably well."

"Spock doesn't lie, but I'd put your two best friends on a par when it comes to cooperating with this sort of thing." Len shook his head. "Don't know how I'd really assess him even if he were more cooperative. According to his last two evals, the guy I met at dinner the other night was already more than a little off his normal profile."

"Someday that was bound to cause difficulty." Her mouth formed a thin line.

"I just don't see how a professional could have let him get away with it." McCoy grumbled. "If anyone came off that spot-on normal it should raise a red flag right off."

"May I ask the professional's name?"

McCoy checked his notes. "Dr. E. Roth."

"Of course." She inhaled sharply, briefly closing her eyes.

"You know him?"

"You could say that, yes." From her tone and the set of her face, Len imagined there would be payback in Roth's not-too-distant future. All things considered, he couldn't work up much sympathy.

She shook her head as though dismissing the information. "It is unimportant. What could you determine?"

Len paused, trying to work out what to say. The bourbon may have clarified some things, but it made filtering more difficult. Even if she was going to have her own look in his head, there was such a thing as patient confidentiality. So sharing an observation like 'He's still carrying a torch for you, but he's so set on denying it that he practically applied to be best man at our wedding' seemed like a bad idea - especially since mention of a presumed wedding seemed, well, pretty damned presumptuous. Not to mention unlikely if he'd guessed right as to who her 'last doctor' was after going back to Sorenson's files from the Armstrong. If there was one thing Len understood, it was being gun shy.

He ran a hand through his hair. "Well, my one firm conclusion is that he's hiding something, but I doubt you needed me to tell you that. In terms of cognitive function, he's sharp as a tack, except for his memory. I've got no idea what's going on there. There's no sign of real damage to memory centers in his brain, but he can't remember some things most Starfleet officers would know even if they forgot their own names. On the other hand, he seems to recall every chess strategy he's ever seen, used or read about."

Her head tilted slightly. "You were discussing chess with Faf?"

He gave her a sideways grin. "He asked if I played and then took pity on me when he realized that the only adjective that could describe how I play is 'poorly'."

"I have played worse." Her lips compressed against a smile.

He smiled, but decided not ask who for fear the answer might (justifiably) involve school children. "Anyway, all I can tell you is that whatever's up with his memory isn't organic. It's not unusual for someone to block out certain traumatic experiences, so I'm not surprised he doesn't recall a lot of what happened even before the overdose. I'd be less concerned if we hadn't seen that fault line in his personality before, but he's not showing any real signs of that continuing. Though I'd swear something is eating at him, but he won't talk about it and pretty much refused to try hypnotic therapy even to recover his memories." Len frowned. "So basically he admits there's a problem, but he won't accept any help solving it - which puts him back to being like Spock, except he doesn't have the excuse of being a Vulcan."

"Nor should that excuse work for Spock." Selina made a small noise and lifted an eyebrow. "And you may tell him that I said so the next time he refuses medical attention."

McCoy broke into a grin. "I so wish you were in medical, darlin'."

"You have seen my bedside manner, Len. The rest of Starfleet is undoubtedly grateful that I am not."

"That's just cause they don't know what's good for..." His reply was interrupted by a yawn. Smooth Len. She comes by your quarters and you start nodding off in front of her. "Sorry, m'dear, I guess I could use some coffee."

"It seems more likely that you could use some rest. When was the last time you slept?"

"I told you, I lay down for a little while earlier."

Something flashed in her eyes. "I have been dealing with Faf most of the day. Do not try to evade answering the question."

Len noted that looking out now from behind those lovely eyes was a mama grizzly who had taken quite enough backtalk from unruly cubs and adjusted his answer accordingly. "I had a few hours before we went on alert for Maldi's ship. I'm fine."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What you are is tired. Why is it that CMOs are the most recalcitrant personnel when it comes to caring for themselves?"

He could picture the smirk on Jim's face. Now she's got you dead to rights. "I'll take a nap after I finish up Allen's eval. Promise."

"No." She stood and held out her hand. "Come."

He'd stood and taken her hand before his brain even had a chance to register what his body was doing. When he realized she was leading him back toward his bed, there was a moment when he thought he might be having a heart attack. Then she pointed at the bed. "Sit."

He sat.

"Take off your boots."

Yes, ma'am. He bent down, concentrating on the task at hand and trying not to grin. She's only putting you to bed. He warned himself. Do anything remotely Jim-like, and you'll never see her in here again. He set the boots aside and waited, mentally tossing cold water at his imagination.

"Now get in."

He obeyed and she pulled the blanket over him and sat on the edge of the bed. "You know, no one's tucked me in for close to 25 years." The disappointing fact that she was clearly remaining on the other side of the blanket might have made that come out a bit surly.

"Clearly, someone should be assigned to the task. Do you see this chronometer?" She tapped the digital display beside his bed. He nodded. "Good. You are not to stir from this bed for anything short of a red alert before next shift."

Great, he was firmly in the position of baby bear. "You know, for someone who doesn't sleep herself, you're being pretty pushy about this."

"If you believe you will have difficulty falling asleep, I could help, if you will permit it."

If only he were delusional enough to take advantage of the offer the way Sorenson had - or had never known Jim well enough for every terrible line the kid might use in this situation to be jumping into his head. No, inviting her into his brain right now was not a good idea. "That's alright. I'm tired enough to sleep."

She tilted her head slightly, and then nodded. "Very well. But if I hear that you have not, I shall find something very strong and sedate you." Her eyebrow arched in a way that said 'Do not think that I won't'.

Right. And he knew full well Christine would gladly help. "I'll be good. I promise."

"Sleep well, Len." She kissed his forehead lightly before leaving.

He waited for the doors to close before allowing himself to sigh. Probably as well it had been an almost motherly kiss. He'd scolded Jim, but he was less than certain he could trust himself.

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AN: Selina has some experience with CMOs who won't take care of themselves.

Cerveny is a Slavic name meaning 'red'. Spock can be by-the-book, but in TOS he breaks rules frequently to protect his friends.

I know this is getting long - anyone out there still reading?