Leonard McCoy
Even if you're friends with the man, a summons to the captain's briefing room always feels like being called to the principal's office. Especially when there's already been an away mission to the planet you're orbiting, and you happened to be excluded from it. If it was a matter of going over medical or even psychological reports, Jim would've come to him instead of the other way around. That leaves only one option that Leonard can think of: a reprimand. But for what?
"Enter." Pushing that thought to the side, he steps through the briefing room doors. Upon seeing him, Jim smirks.
"You look nervous, Bones. Have a seat."
"What's this about, Jim?" He takes the chair across from the other man.
"Bones, you've been burning the candle at both ends for far too long and it has to stop." He frowns.
"I don't know what you-"
"I mean that all you do is work."
"That's the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?" Ignoring him, Jim presses on.
"You're distracted, you're in a constant state of apprehension-"
"I'm not."
"You're defensive." He can't say anything to that without proving him right. "And when I called you in just now, you immediately thought you were in trouble, didn't you?"
"Yes, but-"
"You're rundown, Doctor, and I'm worried that it'll begin to effect your work if we don't do something about it soon." There's nothing to do about it. He's well aware of what's going on with him, and there's no remedying the situation. Still, he asks,
"What do you suggest?"
"We're orbiting a nice little class M planet. Completely uninhabited by any sentient beings. It's all lush forests and clear lakes. You could go there for a three-day shore leave and clear your mind."
"You do remember what happened the last time we came upon a nice little uninhabited class M planet." It's never as idyllic as it seems. Never.
"That won't happen this time. I led the away team myself and we found nothing out of the ordinary. It really is just an uninhabited paradise." That still sounds highly suspect to him. That and-
"I don't need shore leave."
"When was the last time you took it?"
"Around eighteen months ago, but-"
"Then you're long overdue." He can't argue with that. If it were one of his patients, he'd read them the riot act for neglecting their mental health for so long. However-
"What would I do on an uninhabited planet?"
"Go camping. Go on hikes. Anything you want so long as it doesn't include work." The captain leans towards him. "I highly suggest you go. No, actually I insist on it. You're no good to us if you're unrested." Maybe what Jim is suggesting isn't such a bad idea. It would give him a chance to get his head screwed on straight, some privacy while he works out what to do about Amelia. Three days isn't that long to be away from the ship, and they could always hail him if there was a problem.
"Alright. I'll submit a request-"
"Don't bother. It's already been approved. All you have to do is pack your bags and report to the transporter room at twelve hundred hours. I'll have what ever else you might need beamed down from ship's inventory." There's not really much else to say so, with that settled, he stands and starts towards the door. "Oh, and Bones-"
"Yes?" The smirk is back.
"You won't regret this." That's an odd thing to say, but he doesn't question it, instead heading to the turbolift and ordering the computer to take him to deck seven.
Chapel is in the laboratory when he finds her. She looks up and tells him, "I'll have the results from those tests you ordered ready in a few hours."
"Actually, I won't be here in a few hours." He's got exactly thirty minutes until it's time to report to the transporter room. "The captain just informed me that I'll be going on shore leave."
"I didn't know you'd put in a request."
"That's because I didn't. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'volun-told?'"
"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with it."
"Well, it's when you receive an indirect order. That's what happened."
"Maybe that's a good thing. It's been a long time since you took a break from the ship. Regulations state that you're supposed to take one every six months."
"I know what the regulations are." He has just conveniently ignored them.
"Well, I won't keep you any longer. You should go get ready."
"Alright. Nurse Chapel, I leave the running of sickbay in your capable hands." She chuckles and motions towards the door. "Okay. I'm going."
It doesn't take him long to pack. All he really needs is three days' worth of clothes. Ship's inventory should have everything else. That leaves him with fifteen minutes to go over reports and tie up whatever other loose ends exist. The time passes quickly enough, and then it's time to leave. Grabbing his bag, he heads back to the turbolift.
"Transporter room." As he waits to arrive at his destination, something niggles at the back of his mind. Maybe he should've told Amelia that he was leaving. He didn't because when they had breakfast together this morning, she told him that her schedule was jam packed. Well, it's only three days. Chapel will tell her what's going on if she wonders where he is. If.
The turbolift comes to a stop and he steps out the doors into the transporter room. Scotty looks up from the control panel and he has to ask it.
"Is that thing working alright?" The last thing he needs is to be scattered throughout space with no chance of coming back together again or alternatively, be stuck on an uninhabited planet without any supplies for God knows how long.
"Aye, it's working like a charm. Don't ye worry, Doctor." He'll believe that when he's safely down on the planet's surface. "We're just waitin' for one other person."
"There's someone else coming?" Scotty gives him a strange look.
"Aye." Jim didn't mention that this wasn't a solo trip.
"Who?" The doors to the turbolift open and the words, 'Sorry I'm late.' filter out. He would recognize that voice anywhere.
"Amelia?" He remembers that there's other people around too late. "Counselor Fairchild."
"Dr. McCoy?" She steps into the room clad in civilian clothes and carrying a huge bag. It's not really a matter of thinking about going to help her. He just does it. "I wasn't aware-"
"Neither was I." Why wouldn't Jim mention that she was coming along? Of course, there's a more pressing issue. "Didn't anyone ever tell you about packing light?"
"I only packed the essentials."
"Clearly we have different ideas about what the essentials are."
"I would imagine so." She glances around nervously before leaning towards him and murmuring, "I packed art supplies. Watercolors, tempera, charcoal, a few sketchpads-"
"I get the picture." And he can't say anything to her about it. For some reason, she's secretive about her art.
"Sorry to interrupt, but are ye ready te beam down?" Amelia straightens.
"I'm ready, Mr. Scott."
"I'm ready too, Scotty." He climbs up on the transporter pad and, setting down the bags, offers her his hand. When did he start doing that? She's fully capable of climbing up on her own. But she takes it, removing all thoughts except that he's touching her from his mind.
"Alright. En-"
"Chapel to transporter room." The comm interrupts Scotty's order. Leaving his station, Scotty presses the button to respond.
"Transporter room. Scott here."
"Has Dr. McCoy already beamed down to the planet surface?"
"No, he's still here, as is Counselor Fairchild." It's quiet, but he thinks he hears a sigh of relief.
"Thank God. Tell them they absolutely can't beam down. We've got a situation here." Frowning, he steps down from the platform. Scotty moves out of the way, allowing him to use the comms.
"McCoy here. Chapel, what's going on?"
"Dr. McCoy, I have five patients here. The five that made up the away team to the planet surface. All of them were found wandering around the corridors, unaware of where they were or how they got there. It seems that they've all lost their memories." He can feel more than see Amelia approach.
"Alright. Keep them calm. I'll be there in two minutes. McCoy out." Looking over his shoulder, he tells her, "Looks like that shore leave is going to have to wait."
"Looks like it."
Amelia Fairchild
When Amelia enters sickbay, she's met with a strange sight. Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, a woman she vaguely recognizes as a botanist, and two security officers are all milling about the room. Well, more specifically, Captain Kirk and the security officers are. The botanist and Mr. Spock are obediently lying in bed. Nurse Chapel… no, she asked her several months ago to call her Christine… is attempting to get the captain back to bed, and Leonard is taking readings from Spock. As the door slides shut behind her, he looks up.
"Counselor, do you need something?" She approaches, careful to avoid running into anyone (sickbay usually isn't this congested).
"I thought I could help out here."
"Unless you've got a medical degree you're not telling me about-"
"Do you know for certain that the amnesia is medical and not psychological?"
"No, I don't." He sighs and motions towards the captain, who happens to be staring at her with a smile. "You're welcome to take a crack at it." At that, Christine stops herding him and moves out of the way. Amelia pastes her best comforting smile on her face and walks towards her commanding officer.
"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Not at all." Settling on the end of the biobed, she asks him,
"Do you know your name?"
"The man in the funny clothes called me 'Jim'."
"But you don't recall it yourself?"
"No."
"Well, your name is James Tiberius Kirk. Jim to your friends."
"Are we friends?" She considers for a moment before telling him,
"We're friendly. I work for you." That seems to satisfy him. "What's the last thing you remember?"
"I was standing in a hallway and a man in a red shirt asked me where I was going. I didn't know." He stops short. "He called me 'Captain'. Am I a captain?"
"You are."
"Well, where's my ship?"
"You're on it right now. We're on a starship. Do you know what that is?" He nods. It seems like this amnesia is selective. "Good. What can you tell me about yourself, Captain Kirk?"
"Call me Jim. I'd like us to be friends."
"Alright. Jim."
"I don't know anything about myself."
"Do you have any likes or dislikes?"
"I think I like women." She has to swallow down a laugh at that. Yes, he certainly does. "I know that man has ugly ears." He indicates Spock, who reaches up to feel his ears. Christine frowns.
"Captain, you shouldn't say that."
"Don't you think they're ugly?" A flush rises to Christine's cheeks and she hesitantly shakes her head.
"No, I don't."
"And how would you say you're feeling right now emotionally?" Kirk frowns.
"Confused."
"That's perfectly natural. I'd be worried if you weren't."
"Alright, Jim." Leonard motions towards the biobed. "Hop up. I need to get some readings from you." Amelia slides down and allows Kirk to climb up. He looks over at Leonard, and asks,
"Are you a doctor?"
"I am. Name's McCoy."
"Doctor, are all of the women on my ship as beautiful as her?" His gaze returns to Amelia. Leonard's hands hesitate on the tricorder for a moment, and she thinks he's not going to answer, but then-
"No. She's an original." A sly grin crosses the captain's face.
"Oh?"
"And uninterested." She internally sighs. That's a good way to damage an already tender psyche.
"You're not?" The damage has already been done.
"I'm not."
"Because you already belong to somebody?"
"I belong to myself." Satisfied that she's done all that she can do (and with the knowledge that she really needs to get out of that line of questioning), she approaches one of the security officers. "I'm Dr. Amelia Fairchild. I'm the counselor on board this ship. Are you alright with me asking you a few questions?"
It's much the same as the captain's answers. They all report only remembering wandering around lost, being called by names they don't recall, and then being led to sickbay. The two security officers also tell her they feel confused while the botanist says frightened, and Mr. Spock tells her that he doesn't feel anything.
"Obviously I'm suffering from some sort of amnesia." She nods at Spock's statement. "Do you have any suggestions about how to remind myself of who I am?"
"There are the ship's archives. If Dr. McCoy clears you, then you can try reading over your personnel file." He nods.
"I am not the same as the others, am I?"
"No. You're a different species. But right now, all five of you are in the same boat."
"We are not in a boat, Counselor. We are on a starship."
"You're right. It's a colloquialism."
"Counselor-" She looks up. Leonard is finished examining the last member of the landing party and is pointing towards- "-my office?"
"Of course." She stands and follows, the doors sliding closed behind her. With a groan, he settles behind his desk.
"What do you think, Amelia?"
"I'm inclined to believe it's medical."
"So am I."
"Did your tricorder turn up anything?"
"Reduced brain activity in the hippocampus on all of them. I just don't know why."
"So, what happens now?"
"I've had Chapel collect blood samples, so I'm waiting for the lab report."
"Is there any way I can help?"
"No. They all seem fairly stable emotionally. I'll let you know if that changes." That leaves her with nothing to do for the next seventy hours since she's not scheduled to work. He must realize it too, because he tells her, "Try to enjoy the time off while you've got it." She's certain that's not going to be possible, but she nods.
"If you need me, you know where I live." At least that provokes a smile, albeit a weak one.
Leonard McCoy
Nothing. Leonard has been in the lab running tests for the last twelve hours, and it's turned up absolutely nothing. Well, that's not exactly true, but all the information he does have is proving to be useless. What's the point of having state-of-the-art equipment if all the scenarios you run don't work?
"You're staring at that thing like it insulted you." He doesn't bother to look up at the intrusion of another voice.
"Not me. Just my intelligence." Which is doing him a fat lot of good at present. A hand on his shoulder makes him glance away from the computer. Amelia's expression is neutral, but those blue eyes are stormy.
"You need to take a break. Christine says you've been in here all night."
"I can't leave."
"I know." That's when he becomes aware of the aroma of… something. "That's why I brought this down." She's got a tray precariously balanced on one hand.
"How are you doing that?"
"This?" She sets it down in front of him. "I was a waitress back in college. Some things you never forget. Now, eat."
"So, you're my doctor?"
"Someone has to be since you won't let M'Benga do the job."
"Thanks." She nods and starts towards the door. "Will you stay?" He's not sure why he says it (well, that's not true; it's because he desperately wants her to), but blames the slip of the tongue on exhaustion. "That is, if you don't have anywhere else to be."
"I don't." Hesitantly, she takes the seat next to his.
"It's a bacteria." She didn't ask, but he has to tell someone outside of the medical team. "It's in their bloodstreams, going to the brain. They must've picked it up on the planet surface. I've exposed it to radiation, heat, cold, everything I can think of. Nothing destroys it. Now I'm just running an analysis with all the medications we have in our ship's storage and hoping something sticks."
"How does it spread?" That's what's really troubling.
"My best guess is airborne." Her eyes widen at that.
"Which means-"
"That everyone who's come into contact with them is infected and we're all just waiting to show symptoms. From what I can tell, onset happens within twenty-four hours." Sometime this afternoon, none of them will know who they are or how to do their jobs. He generally tries to refrain from doomsday thinking, but this time he can't find an alternative.
"Has anyone contacted Starfleet Command?"
"I told Uhura to send a message. They're sending a medical team equipped with protective gear, but it'll take days for them to get here."
"So, we're in serious trouble."
"To put it mildly. Unless one of the medications mysteriously cancels it out."
The hours tick by, and eventually he picks at the meal in front of him (some sort of casserole). With nothing to do but wait for yet another failed scenario, he has plenty of time to think, and his mind keeps wandering in one direction.
Should he tell her? If it goes south, he's only got an hour to live with the awkwardness. After that, she won't remember. Neither will he. If an hour is all the time he has left of being himself, he'd rather live it honestly.
"Amelia?"
"Yes?" Her eyes are wide, questioning. She doesn't suspect a damn thing. Does he really want to disturb her peace of mind?
"I-"
"Analysis complete." The computer interrupts him. Turning away from her, he looks down at the results… huh.
"What is it?"
"An answer."
"You mean-" He can't stop the smile from forming on his face.
"We're going to be alright." She lets out a hysterical laugh. He's not sure how it happens, who makes the first move, but suddenly he's on his feet and she's in his arms. It's just relief. He knows that. The after-effects of a crisis being averted. Still, she's not moving away, and he's incapable of doing it himself.
"Dr. McCoy-" Chapel stops short, and Amelia pulls away, cheeks flushed. "-sorry to interrupt."
"You weren't-" He clears his throat. "It's the old-Earth drug penicillin, Nurse. It neutralizes the bacteria."
"Isn't that only here-"
"Because it's a sister drug to the one used during the global pandemic on Alpha Proxima II? Yes."
"That's convenient." The comment comes from Amelia. He chuckles.
"Someone out there certainly likes the Enterprise."
"How long will it take to formulate more?" Chapel frowns, and he can tell she's running the calculations.
"Another two hours, wouldn't you say, Doctor?"
"I think we can get it down to one." There will be a lot of crewmen wandering around without their memories, but at least they'll be able to treat them, albeit slowly. "Counselor, do you know how to use a hypospray?"
"I remember the basics from the required Academy courses. Why?"
"Care to lend us a hand?" There are several other medical personnel on the ship, but it's an 'all hands on deck' situation.
"Of course. I'll be in my office. Let me know when I'm needed." As she walks away, he realizes that Chapel is looking at him intently.
"Something on your mind, Nurse?" She opens her mouth, but then snaps it shut again.
"Nothing, Doctor. Nothing at all."
Amelia Fairchild
Amelia is almost asleep when she hears a buzzing from outside her quarters. Blearily, she sits up and begins twisting her hair up into its usual knot. "Just a minute." She's already changed into her pajamas for the night. There's only one person who ever visits her quarters, and she's not prepared to meet him in a state of undress. Removing the shirt followed by the pants, she pulls on a fresh uniform and starts towards the door. "Enter." The doors slide open, revealing- "Hello, Christine."
"You look disappointed." That's because she is, at least a little.
"Won't you come inside?" The head nurse steps through the door, but she doesn't sit. Instead, she offers Amelia a knowing look.
"You were expecting Dr. McCoy, weren't you?"
"I wasn't expecting anyone at this hour."
"I know it's late. I'm sorry, but I wasn't sure when else I would have a chance to speak to you alone, and I didn't want to come to your office. The walls are so thin that you can hear everything from sickbay."
"I understand. What's on your mind?" Christine looks around nervously before telling her,
"I'm actually here on his behalf."
"I thought you didn't want him to hear-"
"He doesn't know I'm here." She can feel a frown forming on her face.
"I'm not sure I follow." Christine sighs.
"I'm not explaining myself very well. It's just so awkward to do…"
"Take your time. I'm listening whenever you're ready." It takes a few moments, but finally the other woman seems to gather her courage.
"I saw the two of you earlier today. In the lab." Oh. She can feel her face growing unnaturally warm, and she's glad for the dim lighting.
"That was unprofessional. My mind was on my relief instead of my job."
"It was a long time coming though, wasn't it? For both of you." Truthfully, it was a snap decision, one she didn't even realize she was making. She wasn't thinking straight, and neither was he. In fact, she's not even sure which one of them initiated it.
"Christine, I'm sorry. If you feel you need to report me for misconduct-"
"Report you?" Christine chuckles. "I've been waiting for you to do that for months."
"I don't understand."
"You care for him."
"Of course. He's a good friend-"
"I know he is, but he's something more." Is she really that obvious?
"I assure you, there's nothing untoward going on."
"I'm aware. I'm also aware of what it looks like when a woman has feelings for a man. The way she looks at him. Because I have someone that I look at that way too." She won't ask who, but she's got a pretty good guess. Earlier today when a certain Vulcan was in sickbay, she thought she caught something. "I know what it looks like when a man doesn't return those feelings. And I don't believe that's what's going on here."
"I'm still not sure why you're here, Christine." If this were true, then surely he would've said something.
"I'm sure you've realized it, but Dr. McCoy isn't one to talk about his feelings."
"That has occurred to me, yes."
"It might take some time for him to admit it, but he cares for you too." Reaching across the table, Christine takes her hand. "Don't give up on him, Counselor. He deserves something good in his life, and I don't know you very well, but I think you do too." She opens her mouth, only to find that it's gone dry. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she manages to get out,
"I'll take that under consideration." With a nod, Christine lets her go and stands.
"I won't keep you up any longer. I just couldn't sleep until I talked to you." And now she's almost certain she won't be doing any sleeping either.
"Goodnight, Christine."
"Goodnight, Counselor."
"Amelia." A small smile sweeps the corners of Christine's mouth upwards.
"Amelia." The door slides shut and once she's sure that she won't be disturbed again, she undresses and returns to bed. Tomorrow, she'll think about what Christine has said. Tomorrow. Not tonight.