Amelia Fairchild
"Kirk to Fairchild." Amelia frowns as she looks up from her PADD. Currently, she's in a session with Straus and Abrams. The two of them have started coming together to her for couple's counseling. Straus's plan for today was to tell Abrams about the pregnancy and subsequent termination, which may be the only thing that can save them, and she would rather not interrupt such a delicate time.
"Excuse me." The couple sitting opposite each other both nod, not looking up from where they're each studying their feet. She stands and approaches her desk, pressing the comm button as she sits down. "Fairchild here. What can I do for you, Captain?"
"You can report to the briefing room immediately. There's something I need to discuss with the senior medical staff." Which means Leonard will be along, too.
"On my way. Fairchild out." Suppressing a sigh, she turns to the couple. "I apologize, but I believe we're going to have to postpone. In the meantime, I want you both to think about what we've said: most relationships can be improved immensely by five minutes of blame-free conversation. Work on your 'I feel' statements as well." For example, she feels both concerned and annoyed.
"Thank you, Counselor." She nods to Straus as she stands, Abrams placing a hand on the small of her back as they leave. Well, at least they're still in physical contact even if the emotional has taken a nosedive. Powering off her PADD, she heads towards the door as well, her mind playing through all the scenarios of what could possibly be going on.
They're not orbiting a planet and aren't scheduled to for several more days. That rules out an explorative mission. They also haven't gone into warp, which means they aren't rushing towards danger (or at least, not at warp speed). She briefly considers that maybe her work hasn't been acceptable but dismisses that. She knows that she does a good job and Leonard wouldn't be there for her dressing down if that's what was happening. So then, what?
The turbolift is empty, so her trip up to the briefing room is quiet. When she arrives, it's to find Leonard already there, giving the closed doors a good glare. She approaches and, touching his forearm to alert him to her presence, asks,
"Do you know what's going on?"
"No idea, but it can't be good if you're here too." He must realize what that sounds like because he immediately backtracks. "I didn't mean-"
"No. I was thinking the same thing." There's no chance to say more because that's when the doors open. She removes her hand, but she's almost certain they've been seen. It doesn't matter really. Everyone is aware of their relationship by now, but she does try to maintain some professional boundaries.
"Dr. McCoy, Counselor Fairchild, please come in."
"You, first." She nods and, steeling herself, steps into the room.
Mr. Spock is already there, and although she's fully aware that it shouldn't be possible, the Vulcan looks even more serious than usual. That's nothing compared to the captain, however. Kirk's expression could be used as a picture example of the word 'grave'. It doesn't improve as they take their seats.
"We've received a distress signal from the U.S.S. Avalon. After an away mission in the Arcadian system, the crew mysteriously contracted what's believed to be an alien disease. Mr. Spock-"
"Thank you, Captain." He's not turning on the computer this time. Does that mean that the people on board didn't think that it was necessary to send a video transmission or that they were too ill? "The disease begins like the old Earth illness known as viral rhinitis, also known as-"
"The common cold." Leonard murmurs. But wasn't that irradicated over a century ago?
"Correct, Doctor. Symptoms include sneezing, coughing, excessive mucus production, irritation of the throat, malaise, and at times, swelling of the lymph nose and low-grade fever. It progresses into something like influenza. Chills, dehydration, fatigue, fever, loss of appetite, body aches, and more severe coughing. After that, there is organ damage as the body begins to attack itself, ultimately culminating in death."
"So far, out of a crew of two hundred, there are only fifteen people left, all of them infected. They have requested medical assistance. My question is how do we intervene safely?" Leonard sighs, not meeting Kirk's gaze.
"If I'm remembering my courses in epidemiology correctly, then this is an airborne virus. Highly contagious. However, if we beam over in environmental suits and utilize the decontamination room before rejoining the crew, we should be as safe as possible."
"Would that fully preserve the safety of the crew?"
"Nothing's a one hundred percent guarantee, but yes. If we're careful, and only medical professionals go aboard." Wait, he means-
"Captain, I think I should go along with the medical team." The captain opens his mouth, but before he can say anything,
"Absolutely not." She frowns and turns to face Leonard. "Didn't you hear how dangerous this is?"
"Exactly. These people may be dying, and they've already witnessed the deaths of their friends and coworkers. Can you imagine how traumatic that has been? If anyone was ever in need of counseling, it's these people."
"Be that as it may, you're not risking your life and the safety of the Enterprise because of a mission of mercy."
"I'm fully capable of performing my duties without removing, puncturing, or otherwise compromising an environmental suit."
"You say that now, but accidents happen, and you're not trained to handle medical emergencies."
"No, just psychological ones, and this situation qualifies." Turning away from her, he looks over at-
"Jim, you can't let her go over there. The risk of exposure is too great."
"I'm inclined to agree with the doctor." She opens her mouth to protest but snaps it shut again. This is her commanding officer. She can't argue with him. "Counselor, I called you here because I want you to be ready to debrief the medical team when they return. This is going to be traumatic for everyone involved, not the least of which are the doctors and nurses who will be providing treatment. Clear your schedule for the next two days to be available to them for whatever they need."
"Yes, Captain."
"Bones, gather your team and report to the transporter room at fifteen hundred hours to beam over to the Avalon."
"Sir."
"Dismissed." She's never hurried out of a meeting so fast in her life as she does this one, but not fast enough. He's right behind her, entering the turbolift at the same time she does.
"Amelia-"
"You just… overruled me."
"I did, but surely you can see why-"
"Leonard, these people may be at the end of their lives. They deserve help, both physical and psychological."
"I'm not arguing with that, but the risk is too high."
"I'm not stupid. I know how to keep from puncturing an environmental suit."
"But the fact still remains that you're not a doctor! This is too dangerous to risk anyone without a medical license-"
"You're going to risk yourself."
"I am a doctor. That's what we do, Amelia. We see the sick and dying and run towards them, not away. We can't hide behind the scenes. We have to be the front line of defense."
"So, my profession is less important than yours." She's being unfair, but right now, she doesn't care.
"Currently, yes it is."
"I see." The doors slide open, and she strides out, walking faster than normal. "Will you slow down?" She does but keeps looking defiantly ahead. "Amelia, you know I respect you. But for now, psychology has to take a back seat to medicine."
"What about the next time when we come upon something unknown and potentially deadly? Or the time after that? Are you going to bench me then too?"
"Technically, that was the captain-"
"Well, you certainly didn't help."
"No, I didn't, and I'd do it again."
"Then clearly you don't hold my job in as high esteem as you claim to." They're inside sickbay now, so she's speaking at a lower level than normal. Scowling, he hisses at her,
"I am trying to keep you from potential exposure to a deadly virus!"
"Leonard, there are people dying-"
"And I don't want you to be one of them!" Crossing her arms, she glares up at him. He doesn't flinch, doesn't look away. Finally, he concludes, "We'll talk more about this when I get back." Right. Because he's doing his job after stopping her from doing hers. Anger surges through her, and she has to look away or else risk saying something she doesn't mean.
"You could at least be careful while you're over there."
"I'll do whatever the job requires, Amelia." That's all the reassurance she's going to get so, turning towards her office, she walks away.
Leonard McCoy
The environmental suits are almost impossible to move in and hot as hades. Usually, they don't see much action, so when Leonard steps into his, he's greeted by a musty scent. A glance to the side reveals that Chapel is making a face.
"When was the last time these were cleaned?"
"They've been decontaminated-"
"I know that, but they still smell." Perez and Taylor nod in agreement. The four of them are set to beam over to the Avalon in T-minus five minutes, leaving Andres and M'Benga to mind the shop.
"You'll love them when we get over there." That earns him a few wry smiles. "Are we ready?"
"Ready, Doctor." Slowly, they start towards the transporter room. It's impossible to move quickly; they proceed at more of a shuffle than a walk. Finally, they make it to their destination.
Jim is already there, and when he sees them, he offers a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. As they climb onto the transporter pad, he tells them,
"Gentlemen, what you are about to do is one of the bravest acts that a man or woman can engage in. To quote a well-known passage from an old-Earth text, 'Greater love hath no man than this; to lay down his life for his friends.' That being said, I trust that none of you will be laying down your lives. Your mission is to help where you can, but not at the risk of your own safety and the safety of this crew. Whatever else you do, be careful. Many lives depend on it." Turning to the chief engineer, he asks,
"Are you ready, Scotty?"
"Aye, Captain."
"Engage." It shouldn't be possible, but beaming over is even more uncomfortable in an environmental suit. He's briefly reminded of Amelia's discomfort whenever they enter warp, but that brings up memories of the argument they've just had, and he has to push that to the side. He has a job to do, and he can't do it if his focus is on his relationship.
The sickbay is in complete and total disarray. There are only two beds in the ICU, both taken, and the others are lying on the floor. He approaches a woman whose uniform indicates that she's the captain and kneels next to her.
"I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy, chief medical officer of the starship Enterprise. We received your distress signal."
"Enterprise." She rasps. "That's Jim Kirk's ship."
"One and the same."
"I ran into him on Corsica VII two years ago. He said-" A coughing fit overtakes her. "-you were good."
"We're going to do everything we can for you and your crew, but first we need to get you onto the biobed. Nurse-" Taylor approaches and he indicates the captain. "-help me lift her." Carefully and deliberately, they ease the captain up and onto a biobed. He takes out his medical tricorder and scanner, but it's unnecessary. He recognizes the signs. Lungs are under attack, as is the liver if the jaundice is anything to judge from. Kidneys as well. Her vitals are erratic, temperature the roof and she's tachycardic. He glances over at Taylor, who's holding the captain's hand.
"I'm not going to make it, am I?"
"We're going to look after you, Captain."
"Prepare her for a blood draw." It'll be difficult, considering how dehydrated she is, but it's necessary if he's going to figure out a potential treatment.
"Yes, Doctor." With the captain settled, he starts towards the dispensary.
There's not a lot that he can do. If he gives them stimulants to try and boost heartrate and respiration, he might overexert the body. If he gives them sedatives to try and let their bodies rest, he might shut them down altogether. He can start up intravenous drips to ward against dehydration, but with the kidney damage, they've got no way of filtering it. The only option is to manage symptoms with pain medication. It takes some effort to prepare the hyposprays with gloved hands, but he manages it and emerges back into the main sickbay.
Chapel is waiting for him he enters, a frown in place. Upon seeing the hyposprays, she asks,
"Palliative care?"
"I'm not seeing another option."
"We've lost another three. Six more had passed before we beamed over." Nine out of fifteen down. That leaves just six crewmembers left. "How much time do you think-"
"Given the state that they're in, I'd give the captain three hours. What about the others?"
"Three are unresponsive. Two are delirious. Only one is lucid enough to talk to." Offering her the hyposprays, he asks,
"Which one?"
"The captain. She's still hanging on." Then that's where he's headed.
Sure enough, the captain is awake when he approaches. Awake and with her head in Taylor's lap. He leans as close to her as he can get so that she won't have to speak too loudly and asks,
"Captain, how long ago was your crew exposed?"
"We were on an away mission to Arcadia III forty-eight hours ago. The away team was the first to start showing symptoms, around four hours after they returned."
"How long was the away mission?"
"Just an hour. The people don't have warp capabilities yet, so our orders were to explore without making contact. That didn't work out because we ran into some villagers, but we managed to convince them we were from the mountain region and then we beamed back aboard."
"How long after contact with the villagers did you return?"
"Within fifteen minutes. Why? Is that relevant?"
"Everything you can tell me is relevant. Were any of the villagers sick?"
"They didn't appear to be."
"And how long ago did you get sick?"
"Around twenty-four hours ago, I started developing a cough and runny nose. It progressed to body aches, fever, and loss of appetite around two hours later." Her breath is coming far too fast and shallow now. Between that, the organ damage, and her vitals, he's wondering what's keeping her conscious.
"Your CMO-"
"Dr. Atwood."
"Did Dr. Atwood keep a log?"
"You should be able to access it on her office computer. It's in-" She coughs, bringing up bloody phlegm, and points across the hall.
"Nurse-" He offers Taylor a hypospray, which she takes. "Give her the highest dosage possible."
"Yes, Doctor." Giving the captain one last look, he retreats in the direction she pointed.
Dr. Atwood's notes don't make much sense after a certain point, probably because she was fever addled, but it's mostly what he's already gathered. The first crewman showed symptoms approximately four hours after exposure. That progressed from the common cold to influenza in two hours. By hour twenty-four, the crewman and the rest of the away party was dead. Their partners had all been admitted and were in grave condition, slipping into comas. Dr. Atwood herself began getting sick around the twelve-hour mark, but she hung on for another sixteen hours out of pure stubbornness if her logs reflected her personality. She had begun an autopsy and confirmed that it was a virus. She'd even started working on a treatment, but that's when she became too sick to continue. Sending her notes to his computer back on board the Enterprise, he once again enters the sickbay, only to be greeted with the words,
"Doctor, she's crashing." Grabbing a hypospray, he runs over.
"Pushing two mLs of Zantara." Even as he says it, connecting the hypospray with her neck, he knows it's too late. The captain claws at Taylor's environmental suit and then goes unnaturally still. The monitor gives one final chirp, and then goes silent. "Pushing five mLs." There's no response. The monitor isn't picking up a thing. He can't feel for a pulse with the gloves on, but his medical scanner tells him what he already knows. "Time of death, sixteen forty."
"She's the last one." Chapel informs him.
"Probably waiting until the last of her crew was gone." He sighs. "Hail the ship. Tell them to beam us directly over to the decontamination chamber."
"Yes, Doctor." A quiet sob makes him look towards Taylor. Reaching out, she closes the captain's eyes.
"Taylor-" What does he say? "She fought hard."
"I know. She was just too sick." She sniffles. "I just…"
"I know." Patting her shoulder, he tells her, "As soon as we get back to the ship, I want you to pay a visit to Counselor Fairchild."
"Yes, Doctor."
"Ready to beam over on your signal, Doctor." Chapel informs him, handing him the communicator.
"McCoy to Enterprise. Five to beam up." As they return to the decontamination room and, after being exposed to the radiation beam, make the trek towards sickbay, it doesn't occur to him to question Taylor about the captain's final moments. It doesn't occur to him that her nails were sharp, and she clawed at one of his nurses. And it doesn't occur to him that, in her distressed state, Taylor hadn't paid attention to her suit. No, his focus is on going over Dr. Atwood's notes and retreating to the lab. Not on the possibility that this deadly virus could now be aboard the Enterprise.
Amelia Fairchild
The woman sitting in Amelia's office is despondent, and rightly so. She knew that seeing so much death would heavily affect the away team even if they're seasoned medical professionals. Well, all except Taylor. She's still an ensign, a transfer from just six months ago. This is her first assignment, and although she's good at her job, she hasn't had time to develop callouses.
"Taylor, you did all that you could."
"But what if I didn't?"
"Alright. What is it you think you could've done differently?" The nurse sighs.
"I don't know. She was at the end of her life, and I just didn't have the words."
"No one does, really."
"Not even you?" She smiles sadly.
"I'm better trained to talk someone through their final moments than most people on this ship, but no. Not even me."
"She fought so hard. Waited until all of her crew had passed on before she allowed herself to go."
"It sounds like she was a good captain."
"I think she was." Taylor swipes at her eyes. "God. Why am I crying?"
"Because this has touched your heart." Amelia reaches for the box of biodegradable tissues sitting on the table next to her and offers it to Taylor. "It's natural."
"Thank-" The nurse's statement ends with a jagged cough. Amelia frowns. Coughing is a rare occurrence on the Enterprise. The air filtration systems take care of any and all pollutants, so there's nothing to irritate the throat or lungs. That rings some alarm bells, but considering that Taylor was crying, that could account for it. "-you."
"You're welcome, Taylor." They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then finally Taylor concludes,
"I guess I should get back to work now."
"If you're ready you may go, but I'd still like to see you back here in a few days." A slight smile turns up the corners of her lips.
"Dr. McCoy said you probably would."
"Yes, well, he was right." And apparently psychology is only an important specialty when he feels like it. "You need time to process, Taylor, and I'd like to take that journey with you."
"Alright." Taylor stands and, as the doors slide open, steps out. With a groan, Amelia starts towards her desk. She probably needs to schedule the rest of the medical away team for sessions too, and she knows of at least one of them who will protest. Taking a seat, she turns on her PADD and begins writing up the orders. It's best if she breaks the news to Leonard in person instead of just sending him a message. As for the others, they should be okay with a less personal touch.
It only takes her fifteen minutes to write out the orders and then she sends them off to the captain for approval. Now to handle one curmudgeonly patient. Standing, she approaches the door and steps into sickbay. Christine is in the ICU, and she offers her a smile.
"He's in the lab."
"Thank you." It's only two doors down, but she takes the walk slowly. This is a confrontation she's not looking forward to, especially considering their argument earlier today. Every couple argues, and they're no exception, but this one got personal. Her job is an extension of her just as his is of him. He knows that. Insulting her field is insulting her, and that's exactly what he did. His heart was in the right place, a little voice whispers, but she's still too irritated to listen to it. At last, the doors slide open, and she steps inside.
"Did you see Taylor?" She nods. He's standing over the lab's computer, staring at… something. "Well?"
"She's shaken, as I'm sure all of you are."
"So, you're ordering all of us to be analyzed."
"Assessed, but yes. How did you know-"
"Because I know you." He does. Better than anyone, actually.
"And you're going to insist that it isn't necessary."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know you." She imitates his words from earlier. It provokes a weary smile.
"I don't think it's necessary, but I won't be a bastard about it."
"That's all I ask." Neither of them say something for a few moments, and then-
"Amelia-" She says his name at the same time.
"You go ahead."
"Amelia, about earlier-" The door slides open, revealing- "Taylor. Something the matter?" The nurse is flushed and as she steps into the room, she coughs.
"We need more of the Argelian flu vaccine-" She stumbles and Amelia takes a step towards her, only for him to hold out a hand.
"Stay back." It's quiet, but she still hears it. "Taylor, how long have you been like this?"
"For about an hour."
"And it's been five since we got back." Taylor's eyes widen at that.
"You don't think it's-"
"I don't know. Damn it, Taylor. You should've reported it when you so much as had a tickle in your throat. Now God knows how many people…"
"I'm sorry. I thought it was because I had been crying."
"It's done. You can't undo it." With a sigh, he tells her, "Report to sickbay. Try to stay at least six feet away from anyone else. Tell Chapel to isolate you and requisition masks from ship's inventory. And cover your nose and mouth." Taylor claps a hand over her mouth and walks back out the doors.
"Yes, Doctor."
"Leonard, how did it-"
"I don't know. Either the decontamination beam didn't do its job or there was some sort of puncture in her suit." He presses the button for the comms. "McCoy to Kirk."
"Kirk here."
"Jim, I have reason to believe that the virus transferred over with us to the Enterprise."
"How?"
"That's not the most important thing. Right now, we have to keep it from spreading any more than it already has. All nonessential personnel should be confined to quarters until further notice."
"I'll give the order. Kirk out." The comm goes silent and she asks,
"Do you think that will work?"
"It'll buy us some time if we're lucky." He starts off at a jog and she runs after him. They're just outside of sickbay when he stops short and turns to her. "Amelia, you heard me. Go to your quarters."
"You said nonessential personnel."
"That means you too." Swallowing down her anger at that, she tells him,
"Leonard, people are going to be frightened-" He barks out a laugh.
"Yeah, well, they should be."
"Let me at least keep the doors open for the essential workers. They'll be on the front line, so the trauma-"
"Forget about the trauma! This is life and death, Amelia!"
"I know that!" And now they're having a shouting match in the hallway. Taking a deep breath, she tells him, "If this is as bad as you say it is, people are going to need end-of-life support."
"If this is as bad as I say it is, then there will be too many casualties for you to see them all."
"Leonard-"
"Report to your quarters, Amelia. Don't come out until this is over. That's an order." An order. He's never pulled rank on her before. As she retreats towards her quarters, Amelia wonders if she should've mentioned Taylor's coughing fit in her office. In the long run, it probably doesn't matter. She's just another one of who knows how many infected now.
Leonard McCoy
"Time of death, twenty-two forty-five." Leonard pulls the sheet over Lieutenant Johanas's head. They're now at hour twenty-eight after infection. Taylor passed three and a half hours ago after going unresponsive. At least her spread pattern has only included two people so far. Of course, one of those two is now dead and the other is in organ failure. That's not to mention the two dozen or more he's seen with at least cold-like symptoms. It's not a complete outbreak yet, but it's headed that way. None of his medical staff are showing symptoms at this time, but then again, they're all masked.
"Nurse, have Johanas delivered to the morgue and change out the sheets."
"Yes, Doctor." Chapel motions to Perez, and they begin the task of removing the body, leaving him to try and figure out how to proceed.
Something's been niggling at the back of his mind for the past twenty-three hours. A question he should've asked. Specifically, did Taylor stop by Amelia's office before or after she started showing symptoms? His guess would be before since his partner has yet to come to sickbay. Should he check on her? If he does, he'll risk exposing her to this, but if he doesn't and she's already in as bad of shape as the others, then they'll find her dead in a number of hours. The answer is simple, especially since he's got several house calls to make anyway.
Two hours later, he finally makes his way back to his quarters. Three others had to be moved to sickbay, which means once they arrive, sickbay will be completely full. Not even the biobeds will be available. It takes him twenty minutes to shower thanks to having to scrub so thoroughly, and the entire time, he's turning over the problem in his head. It's a virus. A fast acting one. Atwood had isolated it and was working on synthesizing a treatment when she succumbed. He has her notes, and now samples. His next stop needs to be the lab. That is, after reassuring himself that they haven't missed another patient.
The first sign of trouble is when he has to wait outside of Amelia's door after buzzing. She's always prompt to answer, mostly because she hates the sound. Maybe she's asleep, he reasons with himself. The second sign is when he's told to enter, and that familiar voice sounds a little on the hoarse side. Pulling a mask out of his pocket just to be safe, he steps inside.
Amelia's sitting on the sofa, her PADD in hand, and even from a distance, he can tell that something's wrong. She's shivering despite the flush of her cheeks and as he gets closer, he can see that her eyes have taken on a glassy sheen. Upon seeing him, she tells him,
"Stay back. It's not safe."
"I've been up close and personal with patients all day." He approaches her and reaching out, brushes a hand against her cheeks. It's not the most accurate method, but just from that he can tell that his suspicions were correct. She's fevered. "How long has this been going on?"
"Since around twenty-three hundred hours." Twenty-three hundred… that means she's twenty-three hours into her allotted twenty-four.
"Darling, why didn't you say something?" Amelia chuckles, which sends a spasm of coughing through her.
"You've got a lot of sick patients. Sicker than me." That may be true, but those patients were infected around the same time he estimates that she was, and one of them is already dead.
"We need to get you to sickbay. Now." Offering her his hand, he pulls her to her feet. She wobbles, and he thinks that she's going to fall, but she rights herself. Still, as they proceed out the door, he keeps an arm around her waist just to be sure.
The doors open to the ICU, and he sees that there is another empty and freshly stripped bed. That means the other person infected around the same time as Amelia has died. He's spared from having to call for Chapel by the head nurse appearing. She's hidden behind a mask, but as her eyes land on Amelia, he can still tell that she's taking it hard.
"How long-"
"Twenty-three hours, same as the others." Chapel wraps an arm around Amelia on the other side and together they help her onto the bed.
"You're going to be alright, Amelia." It's not something that you're supposed to say as a medical professional, but he doesn't point that out to Chapel, mostly because he wishes he could say the same thing.
"I know." Amelia offers them both a weak smile. The monitor picks up her vitals at the same time as he manages to turn on his medical scanner. It's not good news. Her lungs are full of fluid and her liver is under attack. All things considered, it's a wonder that she's still talking to them. There's nothing he can do for her here. He knows that. But he can't bring himself to leave either.
"How do we proceed?" Her kidneys are still functioning for the moment, so-
"Start an intravenous drip and monitor her closely. Let me know if there's any change."
"Yes, Doctor." Giving Amelia's hand a squeeze, Chapel starts towards the dispensary. Her hair is still up, but some of it has escaped, and it's stuck to her neck and forehead with sweat. He leans down and pushes it back.
"We're going to figure this out, Amelia."
"You will." What she lefts unsaid is that it might be too late to save her. "Go. You've got a sickbay to run." Her eyes drift closed, and it takes every ounce of self-control that he possesses to make himself walk away.
Hours pass in the lab. He's gone over every sample he has at least three times. He's getting closer, but the compound he's come up with is just as likely to kill the person he hyposprays as it is to cure them. To make matters worse, his nose is running and his throat has begun to tickle. He can't exactly order himself to his quarters, so he continues to work. That is, until a commotion from the room next door makes him look up. Frowning, he steps out of the lab and approaches sickbay, coming through the doorway just in time to hear two words that send ice shooting through his veins.
"She's crashing!" Chapel is standing next to Amelia's bed. "Push two mLs of Zantara. Someone alert Dr. McCoy-"
"Here." The monitor has gone dead silent. Not so much as a blip. Chapel looks up from the hypospray just long enough to shoot him a pitying glance.
"No response."
"Push five and start compressions."
"Doctor, are you sure-"
"Do it." It's an old technique, one that most doctors shy away from. If a patient isn't responding to a medication that's designed specifically to restart a heart, then there's not much of a chance for them. But he's desperate, grasping at straws.
"One one thousand, two one thousand-" Perez starts the countdown as Chapel begins the compressions.
"Andres, five mLs of Oxempa." If they manage to get her heart started again, there's still the issue of her breathing. The nurse rushes off, leaving him with nothing to do but watch.
"No response."
"Go up to seven. Taking over compressions."
"Dr. McCoy-" Perez tries.
"Just do it!" Rationally, he knows that Perez is right. Amelia's a small woman. It shouldn't take that much to get her heart beating again. Taking over from Chapel, he starts compressions. "Come on, Amelia. You don't get to slip away from me that easily."
"Pushing seven." The hypospray connects with her neck just as he feels it. A flutter, weak and unsteady, but it's there. The monitor chirps to life and he pulls away.
"Heartbeat's back. Respiration is still low."
"Pushing Oxempa." He moves out of Andres' way. The seconds tick by, but slowly, Amelia's breathing settles into a steady if laborious pattern.
"She's stabilizing." He's not sure who says it. He's too busy looking for-
"Medical scanner." Perez hands it over, as well as a tricorder. It only takes a few seconds for the readings to register. They've got her back for now, but her kidneys, lungs, and liver are barely functioning. At the feeling of a hand on his arm, he looks up. Chapel.
"Dr. McCoy, you need to leave."
"I have a patient-"
"You're not acting like she's your patient right now. You're acting like she's someone you love, and we don't allow loved ones to make medical decisions. Go." She's right. He's not acting like a medical professional. He's acting like a partner who would do anything to save her. Unfortunately, that 'anything' means returning to the lab and letting those who can be more objective do their jobs.
"If anything changes-"
"I'll let you know. Now, out!"
He knows that the lab isn't any colder than the rest of sickbay, but as he steps inside, he shivers. That can be adrenaline wearing off, or it can mean he's progressed to the flu-like stage. It's only a matter of hours until he can't work anymore. The computer has run yet another analysis on the possible treatment while… he swallows hard… while the woman he loves was hovering at death's door. According to the readout, the treatment should be one hundred percent effective. Should. He still doesn't have anyone to test it on. Except…
Grabbing a hypospray from the table, he begins to prepare it. Time is running out. He won't be any good to anyone soon. If this doesn't work, he's only brought on his death a little earlier than it would've otherwise occurred. This isn't the first time he's been his own guinea pig, and all the times before, he's survived. A small voice in the back of his head whispers that his luck's got to give out at some point, but he ignores it in favor of connecting the now-full hypospray with his shoulder and pressing down the button.
His lungs burn. That's the first thing he's aware of. It makes his eyes water, and he nearly doubles over. Then there's an immense pressure in his head. Then… he takes a deep breath. No coughing. Picking up a medical scanner from the lab table, he turns it on. No fever. In fact, his readings are completely normal. He lets a few minutes pass just to be sure (during which he takes advantage of the time by prepping another hypospray) before removing his mask and starting towards the sickbay doors.
"Dr. McCoy, you can't be in here." Chapel starts, falling silent when she sees the hyposprays.
"Nurse, call Mr. Spock. Tell him to report to the lab. Send Andres to help him. My notes are still open and the compound is in them."
"The compound?"
"For treatment, yes." Her eyes narrow.
"Don't tell me you tested it out on yourself."
"I was showing symptoms. It was the only logical course of action."
"You sound like Mr. Spock."
"There's no need to be insulting." He turns towards the ICU. "Is Counselor Fairchild still the worst off?"
"Yes."
"Then we'll start with her."
"You won't. I will." She holds out her hand and, reluctantly, he hands her one of the hyposprays. "You can start with Straus and Abrams. They're at about the same level."
The next hour is a blur of hypos, patients doubling over in pain and then announcing that their symptoms are gone and thank-yous. It'll take at least twenty-four hours for the entire crew to cycle through, but it's a start. Finally, his hypospray is empty, and all the crewmen that reported symptoms are sufficiently dosed. All that's left is to return to the ICU and check on the progress of their most critical patient.
Chapel's mask is off when he steps inside, but she's still wearing a frown. That, and she's standing next to an unconscious Amelia. Her vitals are the same as they were just after they got her back. That means-
"She hasn't improved."
"She has. Her lungs are clearing and her fever's broken. But the organ damage…" Chapel sighs. "I don't know."
"Have you tried-"
"We've pushed stimulants."
"What about-"
"We've done everything, Doctor. Given her every drug we know of to help repair the damage. It's up to her body now to do the work."
Without thinking, he approaches the bed. The flush is gone, leaving in its place a jaundiced tinge. That brilliant red hair is lank, and she's bathed in sweat. She looks smaller than she should in that bed. More vulnerable than he's ever seen her. Even more than when she wasn't breathing, and he took matters into his own hands to save her. Which reminds him: he's not allowed to be here. He looks over at Chapel, expecting the nurse to tell him to leave, but instead she gives him a weary smile.
"You should be with her, Doctor. We can handle everything else." Hesitantly, he takes a seat next to the bed and grasps Amelia's hand. Her skin is undeniably cooler, if still clammy. All of a sudden, the events of the past thirty-six hours come crashing down around him, and his head feels far too heavy for his shoulders. Resting against the edge of the bed, he finally allows himself to think.
They were fighting before. His intention was to keep her safe, but he couldn't do it, so what the hell was the point of arguing? As far as she knows, things still aren't right between them. There's so much he hasn't said to her. Things he should've been telling her every day. One specifically comes to mind. Shutting his eyes, he lets exhaustion catch up to him.
Amelia Fairchild
When Amelia opens her eyes, it's to an unfamiliar ceiling. She's not in her quarters, nor in Leonard's. She blinks, eyelids heavy, and that's when she feels it. There's a weight against her palm. Looking down, she sees that her fingers are intwined with someone else's. It's a familiar sight, and she immediately knows who the someone is even before she sees that he's sitting in the chair next to her, head thrown back in sleep. That's when she realizes it. She's in sickbay.
It all comes back in a rush. The virus. Taylor coughing in her face. The hours passing as she worked, only to realize when she came up for air that she was showing symptoms. The look on Leonard's face when he found her and realized she'd been exposed. In hindsight, hiding the fact that she was sick was stupid, but she could hear people passing by her quarters towards sickbay, and she knew they had their hands full. Besides, she wasn't that sick. Until she was.
The sound of footsteps makes her look up. Christine is studying her PADD, but she's headed towards her bed. The head nurse glances over and nearly drops the device. A smile crosses her face (one that Amelia returns) and, leaning down, she places a hand on Leonard's shoulder.
"Doctor McCoy, it's time to wake up now." His eyes snap open and he straightens.
"What-"
"I think someone wants to say hello." His gaze comes to rest on her, and she gives their still-joined hands a squeeze.
"Amelia?"
"Hello, Leonard." Now that she's getting a good look at him, it doesn't appear that he's showered or shaved in days. That begs the question- "How long was I out?"
"Four days."
"You lost consciousness almost immediately after arriving in sickbay." Christine supplies. "But you were just asleep until the four-hour mark. That's when you crashed. We got you back, and a few hours later, Dr. McCoy found a treatment, but you had severe organ damage."
"How do you feel now, Amelia?" Hesitating, she takes stock of her body. Her ribs are sore. Her lungs feel like she's just pushed herself to run three miles. Her mouth is dry and her head throbs. Overall-
"I'm not at my best." Christine chuckles, and even Leonard cracks a smile.
"That's to be expected. Do you think you can sit up?" In response to her friend's question, she pushes herself into a sitting position. It makes black spots swim before her eyes, but she manages it. "Alright. I'm going to take a few readings. You know how this goes." The medical scanner hums for what feels like hours, and then Christine concludes, "You still have damage to your lungs, kidneys, and liver, but the medications are doing their job. You're on the mend. I estimate that in another day or two, we'll be able to get you out of here."
"Thank you, Christine." The other woman nods and informs them,
"I'll give you some privacy." The ICU doors slide shut, leaving the two of them alone. Neither of them says anything for a few moments, but eventually she breaks the silence.
"Leonard, I'm sorry. I was being unreasonable. I know you were just trying to keep me safe-"
"Well, I failed. I sent patient zero to your office."
"You didn't know that she was infected. Just that she needed help." He chuckles ruefully.
"We can add that to the list of things I didn't know, right under the fact that my partner was dying."
"I didn't say anything-"
"That's what I've been trying to figure out. Why didn't you?"
"You had other patients-"
"And what makes your life any less valuable than theirs?"
"I never said-"
"Amelia, do you have any idea how much pain your death would've caused the people that care about you? How much pain it would've caused me?"
"Leonard, I never wanted to cause you pain."
"Yeah, well, as a certain counselor once said, that's the trouble with loving someone. You give them that power." She's prepared to apologize again, but that's when it registers. He just said… she glances up at him, only for him to groan. "Damn it. That's not the way I meant to tell you." So it wasn't just a poor choice of words in the heat of the moment.
"You can always try again." Seconds tick by, and she thinks she's misspoken when she feels it. Fingertips against her palm. It's instinct, intwining her fingers with his. He's looking at her thoughtfully, blue eyes peering into hers.
"I love you, Amelia. I should've told you long before now, but I'll keep saying it for as long as you let me." Giving their joined hands a squeeze, she tells him,
"I love you too, Leonard. And I think you were right on time."