Author's Note: Time for McCoy's POV. :)

McCoy set his charts down on his desk at Starfleet General with a clatter and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms, sighing heavily. Christine had been right. He hadn't slept all week. Only a few measly hours. And it was certainly catching up to him, if his colossal mistake yesterday at the clinic was any indication.

Most of it was his own damn fault, his unwillingness to head out with Captain Pike, or anyone, for that matter. How he'd avoided orders for the black as of yet, he had no idea. He attributed his lucky streak to karma, because he was pretty damn good at, well, helping people. He'd volunteered for extra days at one of Starfleet's clinics, hadn't he? A job that was classified at the bottom of the totem pole. Of course, he'd volunteered for the sole purpose of escaping any possible orders to head out on a starship. Funny, since he'd joined Starfleet, which operated in space. Such was his life. A complete contradiction. He'd also vowed to do no harm, and as of yesterday, had broken that vow.

Kirk had never given him the chance to rectify his mistake, a case of mistaken identity. Instead, he'd become defensive, demanding that the other physician in the building explain David's medical condition to him and, hence, treat them both.

He'd acquiesced. He really couldn't blame him. Nor did he wish to provoke the man anymore than he already had. Kirk had enough on his plate. More so now, since McCoy had created a problem which required that he write himself up for his misconduct.

He hadn't completed the form yet. It would go to his supervisor, Boyce, and Boyce wasn't a man to trifle with. He'd already questioned him about his extravagant volunteering, which was, in his defense, allowed. Starfleet morale was down, several skirmishes between Marcus and the Klingons having been blown out of proportion, at least according to both Pike and Boyce. Working with civilians was part of a plan Boyce himself had created in partnership with HQ.

As helpful as the program was, Boyce hadn't wanted McCoy to take part in it at first. This misconduct charge in his file was the nail in his coffin. He had a feeling that once word was out of his misstep, he'd be sent out into the black in the blink of an eye. Pike commed every week about it. He wanted him as his CMO. Why, McCoy didn't know. There were others more qualified than him. Boyce, for example. Puri, who had been his CMO before becoming a professor at the Academy. McCoy, on the other hand, had barely passed his flight sim. Not only that, but his sim was the one the teachers used to show students how not to take a flight sim.

His sim was the stuff of legends. The wrong kind of legends.

Why the hell would Pike want him on his ship?

If he knew what was good for him, he'd find where Kirk was staying while David remained one more day at the clinic for observation and approach him. Away from the clinic. Away from anything that could remind Kirk of their rough introduction. Looking back, the man seemed genuine, from what he saw from afar later that day. So he was a little rough around the edges, but who was he to talk? McCoy had been hungover the very day he'd joined Starfleet, the lonely shuttle ride to San Francisco adding to his depression.

He still didn't feel like he quite fit in. Burying himself in work at the hospital and clinic took care of the feeling most days. Just not today.

He decided to call it a day, to head back to his place for some sleep, rounds be damned. He rose from his desk and stalked out his door, running into a solid chest.

"Dammit, man," he cursed, taking a single step back. He rubbed his shoulder, wincing. "Watch where you're going."

"Indeed, Doctor McCoy," the offender said calmly, "You must heed your own advice."

He glared at the man, who he now recognized but hadn't the opportunity to formally meet. He tried to soften his expression and appear more cordial, but the sleepless nights made that difficult.

"Professor Spock," he said stiffly, giving him a narrow look when he saw that the professor seemed to have no desire to move out of his way. "How can I help you?"

"I must have a word with you."

McCoy's brows raised. That was...both straightforward and confusing. Why did he need to speak to him? "Now?"

Spock inclined his head towards McCoy's office door. "Now would be advantageous, as it appears that you are leaving for the day."

The Vulcan's monotone response was unnerving. "Fine. Walk with me."

He didn't wait for Spock to agree, but headed straight for the lift with a surge of energy. He really wasn't in an agreeable mood of any type. However, Spock was a friend to Boyce and also to Pike. He'd have to at least try to be friendly.

Spock followed him into the lift, speaking before he could even open his mouth. "Computer. First floor," he said swiftly, before turning back to him. "Doctor McCoy, you have grievously wronged Cadet Kirk."

McCoy blinked. "How do you know…" He stopped and narrowed his eyes at Spock. "Wait a minute. Cadet? Cadet Kirk?"

His heart raced. Kirk wasn't a cadet, was he? He wasn't as of yesterday. But if he had enlisted, it meant that this was going to be one for the books. A scar on his perfect record. A blemish after years of hard work. He inwardly groaned. Why had he pushed himself so much lately? If he had just gotten over his aviophobia, he wouldn't be in this mess.

"Cadet?" he repeated, the truth of the situation buzzing in his ear like an annoying bee. "Are you sure…?"

Spock nodded. "I am one hundred percent certain, Doctor McCoy. His grades are excellent at the community college, and he is in need of housing for himself and his son. He heeded my advice, and that of his new advisor Captain Pike, as I knew he would. He enlisted last night."

No, no, no. He enlisted? He groaned, pressing his forehead into the wall. He'd made trouble for a cadet? One Pike had taken under his wing? This was far worse than he'd anticipated.

He heard the swish of the lift door as it opened. He groaned again, unprepared to face the world.

"Computer. Close door." Spock ordered. "However, he is unwilling," he continued in a gentler tone, "and I quote, 'to come clean,' and discuss what happened at the clinic with the proper authorities."

McCoy pushed himself away from the lift wall. "Wait. What?"

"Doctor, you appear to have difficulty listening to what I am saying," Spock said, his hands clasped behind his back.

"No," McCoy said, frowning. "It's not that. I am just...surprised. That's all."

"Kirk is unpredictable," Spock concurred. "He will commence his classes next week."

"With a kid? That he just met? And...his weight?" He could only see trouble ahead for Kirk. How could he keep up, both mentally and physically? Who would be willing to help him? Encourage him to care for himself a little better?

Spock's expression immediately cooled. "Jim, as you will find," he said, firm jawed, "is used to these misconceptions." He paused, his eyes hardening as he stared at McCoy. "However, as you will find, I am unused to these false and rather cruel assumptions made about my friend."

McCoy winced, taken aback by the emotion he'd exuded and the loyalty he had toward Kirk. "That didn't come out right. I'm just…" An ass. A complete and utter fool where this man is..."...concerned," he finished lamely.

Spock bored holes into him. As if he didn't believe him. As if he'd heard every word he'd spoken in his head.

He didn't blame him for it, either. He kneaded his forehead, more frustrated with himself than he could even explain. He wasn't normally this, this...difficult or judgemental. He was making a mess of it all. Again. He needed a damn vacation.

"Listen, Spock," he said, unable to hide how exasperated he was with himself. "Even if he's on campus—"

"He has yet to find appropriate living arrangements."

"Okay, then," McCoy said, slightly irritated for being interrupted. "Even if he has a few friends, he'll need help."

"Are you offering to assist—"

"God, no!" McCoy blurted out.

"You are averse to helping him with his three-year-old child? Do you not have a child of your own?" Spock asked with what McCoy assumed to be the patience of a Vulcan. Maybe a dozen Vulcans.

He flushed, guilt flooding him. "Yes. I mean...no to being averse and yes to offering to assist him. That is, if I cut back on my hours at the clinic."

"Yes?" Spock repeated slowly, drawing out those three letters for all that they were worth.

He rolled his eyes. "A hundred percent yes," he said before he could think twice.

Spock arched a brow.

"It's the least I could do," he continued hurriedly, getting the vague feeling that he'd been set up.

Spock's shoulders relaxed. "I concur. I am also convinced that Jim will accept your assistance if you allow him a minimum of twenty-four additional hours to reach a state of necessary serenity. Time he requires before submitting himself to your presence."

This professor certainly had a way with words.

"Are you always this...personal?" McCoy muttered.

"I am merely suggesting the most logical course of action."

Spock lifted his chin in a way that made McCoy feel about two inches tall. He couldn't explain it, but that, in turn, infused him with an even greater passion to do whatever it took to make Kirk the best damn cadet Starfleet has ever seen. But, it could also be that he had a child of his own. A daughter only a few years older than David. Of course he never saw her except a few times each year, but he had a child, too, just the same.

It appeared that he actually had something in common with Kirk.

He scowled, shoving the thought aside. He wasn't planning on making friends with him. Just helping him enough to ease his own conscience.

"I'd like to see him succeed at the Academy as much as you do," he claimed.

"Doctor," Spock said, peering down his nose at him. "I highly doubt that is the case."