After Landru

by Tigereyes45

McCoy isn't sure what happened after the robes take him away, and Kirk won't tell him. After much insistence, Spock does. Now McCoy isn't sure if he should even be on the enterprise, or what to do next.

A splitting headache fills McCoy's head as his senses return to him. Probably from spinning on that damn wheel. He attempts to raise his head, but his neck aches. It's stiff. McCoy could feel something sturdy against his back. The robes probably took him back to the dungeon and left him on the cold ground, or back where he had been resting with Kirk and Spock, if they were considerate. Somehow he knows there's a fat chance that the robes didn't possess empathy. If anything they seemed even more robotic than the Enterprise's own Mr. Spock.

Bones slides his arms up along whatever he was on top of. He props his upper body weight onto his elbows, and lifts, opening his eyes in the same moment. Bright, white lights fill his vision, stinging his dried-out eyes. McCoy moves his head forward as fast and far as his stiff neck will allow. He's back in his standard fleet clothing. When had he changed back? As the question passes through his mind, McCoy starts to notice that it wasn't just his clothes that had changed but a med-bay bed lying under him instead of a stone wall. Did the Enterprise beam him back? How?

Withholding a groan McCoy forces his head back up. "Whoa, there Bones." Kirk's smooth voice was calm and comforting. Bones could feel his muscles relaxing. If Kirk was here then the mission must be over. Had he slept through it all, or did Landru actually manage to hypnotize him? Fear springs through McCoy's bones, wrecking his stomach and causing all the muscles in his body to tense up yet again.

"Kirk, what happened?" He tries to grab onto Kirk's right sleeve with his left hand. As soon as his right elbow was left holding up the majority of his weight, McCoy started to fall over onto it. Kirk's hands softly dig into McCoy's sides. His firm strength holds McCoy up right Kirk's thumbs start to press into McCoy. "I-" the doctor begins before a cough catches in his throat.

Bones turns his head to avoid getting phlegm all over Kirk's face. Instead, it decorates the bottom of the captain's sleeve. Once the fit passes McCoy leans into Kirk's hold. His left hand curled around the edge of the sleeve it had missed before. "I'm alright."

Kirk moves one of his hands to the back of McCoy's head. He leans over, settling the doctor back down. "You should rest."

"I don't need rest. I need to know what happened down there." McCoy insists directing his glare back up towards Jim. The captain pointedly avoids meeting his gaze. Deep brown eyes focus on the top of McCoy's head.

Kirk brushes some of McCoy's hair off his forehead. "Don't worry about it Bones."

"Captain." Uhura's voice pulls Kirk's attention away. Confined by Kirk's words, Bones continues to lie in his bed. "There's some interference with our scanner."

The captain folds his hands behind his back. "Are we under attack Uhura?"

"No, but Mr. Spock thought you would want to know about the problem."

"I do." He agrees breathlessly. The last thing they need is another problem. "Thank you, lieutenant. I'll be right there." Kirk's head swiftly turns back. A grin takes up most of his face. It's the same smile he uses when he has to try and get close to someone for the mission. There's no crinkle around his eyes. When it's his real smile, the faintest trace of crow's feet becomes visible. His face only remains that smooth when he's putting on a show.

Kirk's grip on his knuckles brings McCoy's head snapping down to look at their hands instead of his eyes. "I have to go now, Bones."

Brushing his hand away, McCoy attempts to push himself back out of bed again. "I need to-"

Kirk gently pushes him back down. "You need to rest." The captain pats down the top of McCoy's pillow before closing his eyes and giving the recovery doctor a faint laugh. "Now I know you're a notoriously bad patient."

"You have no room to talk-"

"Ah, ah, ah." Kirk cuts in with a tilt of his head. "But for the next four hours, I don't want to hear from anyone that you've gotten out of this bed." The captain playfully smacks the foot of the bed as he steps away.

"Fine." Bones lays back. Feeling defiant still, he crosses his arms over his chest and jutts out his chin. "Then you won't hear about it."

Kirk laughs at the door. "Get some sleep Bones."

Despite himself, McCoy did actually manage to get about two hours' worth of rest in. Of course that was in between fleeting visions, cold sweats, and visits from other medical staff nagging at him, for not being fast asleep. Honestly, he couldn't be that hurt if they weren't using sedatives to keep him down. McCoy rolls his head to the side and stares at the tray of cold soup, and half-eaten crackers. Chapel had tried to get food in his system about an hour ago. He had pushed down three crackers and half of a fourth before a memory came flashing back. It was the briefest of moments. Spock stared at him with a look that McCoy could only describe as despondent. He'd never seen the Vulcan look so sad before. It sent his stomach rolling. Chapel didn't ask why he stopped eating, and he wasn't going to tell. So the food was left. Completely abandoned. Why hadn't they left him behind? The federation would have understood. All they would have to include in their reports is that he had been converted into an enemy unit and left behind.

Jim's not the type to do such a thing. Even when under attack. Damn it.

McCoy sits up and throws his legs over the edge of the bed. Maybe he shouldn't make such a fuss. Jim seems fine. Spock isn't treating him anymore or less like he had before the incident. Everyone seems fine with what happened.

He leans over, resting a hand along the back of his neck. According to Chapel he was physically fine, just exhausted. Whatever happened down there he got by without any scrapes or bruises. Perhaps he hadn't done anything that bad. Even the dull pain from before has vanished. Nothing remains from the incident.

Nothing but the memories.

Bones sighs. The firm mattress fills his palms as he pushes himself from the bed. Bright med-bay lights irritate his dry eyes. He slides his feet across the solid, smooth tiled floor towards his desk. He passes by O'Neil who is sleeping soundly.

The doctor collapses into his chair, thankful for the familiarity of the cushioned seat. McCoy leans back, lifting up one of his legs and hanging it over the chair's arm. It feels so nice. Tension melts from his body as he stretches his muscles out. Now comfortable, Bones grabs a pen and starts to tap it against the table. Closing his eyes, McCoy's mind latches onto the steady, rhythmic beat. With a deep breath, he once again attempts to recall, anything.

Darkness greets him. If it's the darkness of his mind due to a lack of imagination, or a memory, he can't really tell. McCoy thinks back to those final moments within his control.

He'd woken up in the prison. Kirk was asleep, and leaning against the wall to his right, with Spock propped straight up in the corner to his left. Soft snores from the other side of the prison suggested that someone else was here with them. Hopefully the rest of their team. He was rubbing the back of his head when someone approached.

McCoy lifted his head to see someone a robed figure, with a hood-covered face standing before him. Whoever they were, their voice was as monotonous as the robed figures that confronted them earlier had been. "You will follow." They state. Their voice sounded like a drone.

"What are you going to do to us?" McCoy made sure to raise his voice.

Any hope of someone else waking up to help him fight off the robe was quickly dashed when Spock and Kirk didn't so much as stir. "You will follow." The robe states again pointing one of the empty pipes at his chest. McCoy stood up, ready to defend himself, when he saw the three other figures behind the first.

He could recall walking into the room with lights that thrummed with electricity. They were loud compared to the sickbay's. In fact, they were loud compared to the enterprise's engine. The robes strapped him onto the wheel.

His wrist itch against the leather straps. There was spinning and then-

Pain accompanied by images flash through his mind. "Ugh!" McCoy grits his teeth. Spock had stared down at him with a look of obvious concern. A soft, warm hand on his face, and a quiet call coming from within his mind. Kirk passed by with a hand over his chest, and his typical, fake smile on his face.

McCoy drops the pen and doubles over in pain. The two had been whispering. The whispers grew louder and felt like a barrage of attacks, pounding against his brain. There was shouting, who had been shouting? The voice remains unfamiliar to him, even as it grew louder.

The clearest memory of all was Kirk's face as he cautiously made his approach. His head shakes with pain as he attempts to recall anything, everything. What must he have been feeling back then? What was he thinking?

The emotions behind it all elude him. Only physical sensations accompany the memories. Kirk was just letting Bones be with a forced smile on his face. McCoy wishes he could hear the words, that he could recall them. Kirk's face grew seriously. Then McCoy's wrists felt sore, as his neck grew tight. Dirt and stone beneath his fingers. The bottom of his leg smacks against his chair's arm as he pulls it free.

"Doctor?" Spock's voice plays over the image of Kirk's contorted face. The seconds before Kirk fought back on full display as it replayed again, and again. Footsteps echo throughout the room, as someone swiftly walks by. Who had been walking by?

A warm, gentle hand applies careful pressure to McCoy's forehead. "No fever, but you appear to be in pain."

Before he could stop himself the sarcasm drips out. "What gave that away?"

"You're doubled over in your chair. Your face is twisted in what looks to be pain." McCoy lifts his head, and his breath catches in his throat. Spock was frowning. If his lips twitched it would look like his standard thin line. Bones pulls his head back, free from Spock's touch. His face grows warmer, and McCoy only hopes that his cheeks aren't flushed. "Are you alright Doctor?"

McCoy straightens up. "I'm fine Spock." Determined to escape this conversation, the doctor stands up and immediately walks over to O'Neil. He was fine. Better than fine. After a good night's rest, the man would be ready for duty tomorrow. Nurse Chapel had seen to that. Still, McCoy picks up O'Neil's clipboard and reads through her notes.

He flips through the pages two whole times before Spock presses the issue further. "You are supposed to be resting."

"I'm a doctor, Spock. I'll rest when everyone else is out of here and back in their own rooms." That's what he always says, and he means it every time. Just as everyone on the ship knows, not a day goes by when someone doesn't need some sort of medical attention.

Spock watches McCoy work. He could feel those vulcan eyes trailing over the back of his neck. The doctor continues to give himself busy work. The room was spotless, all patients were in order, and even the decorations hadn't slipped out of place as they tend to do. When he runs out of things to check, McCoy goes to open the drawers and makes sure all the needles are placed in the correct size holders.

As his fingers trail through the drawer, realigning the slightly out-of-placed points, those same brown eyes continue to bore a hole into the back of McCoy's head. Should he just ask? It doesn't seem like Spock was going anywhere. Not anytime soon enough.

Damnable curiosity gets the better of him. "Spock?"

"Yes, doctor?"

McCoy straightens up. "What happened down there, on Beta III?" He sneaks a glance at Spock's face. The frown had deepened. McCoy quickly looks away. "I remember being taken away, and the robes strapping me onto that wheel like I was a circus act. Thankfully they didn't have any knives." McCoy tries to nervously laugh, but it dies before he can get the first breath out. "What happened after?"

"You don't remember doctor?" It's an honest question. McCoy wishes it had some biting sarcasm to it, or that it was colored with concern. Yet Spock's words were empty of judgment or worry. How does he manage that?

"I've had a few flashes. I remember seeing the prison. Kirk smiled tensely. The feeling of dirt and stone against my fingers." Another glance. A deeper frown.

"The captain tried to disarm you gently." Words still hollow, McCoy doesn't miss the quiet gulp of Spock swallowing something back.

McCoy looks back at the vulcan. The frown was gone now. "Considering how there's no bruising I have to assume he succeeded." McCoy rubs his wrists. They were red more from his attentions then anything that happened on that planet. Just how did Kirk disarm him?

"He did." Spock folds his hands behind his back. "You were brainwashed. When you returned you spoke of the body and didn't seem to remember any of us. The captain was, distraught." Spock pauses, watching McCoy's face closely. Bones does his best to keep his expression passive, but his head is spinning. The smallest hint of Spock's lips turning down, informs him that it wasn't well enough. "You deciphered that Kirk and I were pretending to be of the body, and tried to alert the lawgivers."

Spock pauses, McCoy finally faces him again. "Spock?" The scientist presses his lips tighter together. "What else happened?"

Silence fills the room. If that was all, Spock wouldn't have sounded so hesitant. "What else happened Spock?" The vulcan raises an eyebrow as if to ask, 'Are you sure you want to know?' McCoy jerks his head in his best attempt to nod.

Spock folds his arms behind his back. "In your state, you did all you could to keep from being silenced. That included choking the captain."

"I-what?" Nonsense. Kirk was far stronger than himself. He should have been able to push McCoy away. Knock him on his ass, or punch him out, or anything. Aside from a simple headache, he was feeling just fine.

"The captain tried to talk you out of your attack," The memory of Kirk's forced smile comes back to the forefront of McCoy's memory. "but eventually your screaming was bound to attract unwanted attention." Spock nods as he talks as if reaffirming the truth of his words. "He threw off your hands and restrained you, carefully rendering you unconscious. As soon as Landru was dealt with we returned to gather you and the others before beaming back up onto the ship."

"My clothes?"

"The other doctor and nurses found your disguise to be too restrictive. I held you up, the captain undressed you and put you back in your uniform."

McCoy snickers. "The doctors could have done that."

"They could." Spock agreed. "But the moment Kirk heard their complaints of the suit he began dealing with the issue immediately. He instructed me to hold you, and had Nurse Chapel run to your room and fetch you a change of clothes."

"And Kirk," McCoy takes a deep breath. He licks his nips, gathering up his frayed nerves. "How is he?"

He straightens his shoulders. "Well, doctor." Spock answers with a tilt of his head.

McCoy doesn't believe that. Sure Kirk was up and moving, but emotionally, he's bound to have repressed his emotions about the situation. That thought drives the guilt welling up in Bones' chest straight into his heart. "And what of you Spock?"

"What of me?" Spock raises that eyebrow again. McCoy shakes his head. Of course, Spock didn't understand.

Best put it in obvious terms. "How are you?"

"I am well. You did not attack me if that's what you're asking after."

McCoy shakes his head. "No." He looks away, eyes falling to the floor again. "Of course not."

Bones remains frozen in the spot. Halfway between hovering over the needle drawer, turned towards Spock. His mind was similarly stuck. Words trapped in his throat swing between apologies and resignation. He can't stay. Not after all of that. How could Jim even think about keeping him around?! McCoy attacked the captain. He attacked his closest friend. The doctor fidgets with his hands. Older fingers with healed scars from old cuts pick at the wearing skin around his nails.

"Spock I-"

Spock steps towards the door. "I need to go doctor."

Frantically Bones reaches out, "Wait," but stops himself just before his hand can catch Spock's arm. "I just want to-"

Gently, Spock pushes his hand down and out of the space between them. "There's no need."

Frustrated, McCoy recoils from the other man's touch. Instead, he catches his breath and red in the face, shouts, "Spock I'm trying to apologize to you, damn it!"

"I'm aware doctor, and as I said, there's no need." Why is he always so matter of factly? Better yet how could he not see that McCoy had been too careless? He hadn't been loyal enough to resist the brainwashing. "You were not in control of your actions. It would be illogical to blame you."

"Still that happened." McCoy turns around. He crosses his arms over his chest to hold himself. "It was me." His voice was barely a whisp of a whisper.

Thanks to Spock's heritage he didn't struggle at all to hear McCoy's mutterings. "I don't quite understand doctor."

McCoy waves his arms around, smacking one of his hands against his chest as the other stretches, trying to find someplace to land. "I may not have chosen to attack Jim, but damn it, I did! It was my voice, my face, my," his voice cracks as Leonard struggles to force a gulp of air down. In between them, Bones' hand lingers. Staring, the doctor clenches it shut, and brings the other up to join it. He was shaking now. "It was my hands that hurt him."

"The captain was barely hurt." Even Spock couldn't hide his discomfort at the idea of Kirk's ever being harmed.

"That's not the point! I could have killed him!" Why wasn't anyone understanding this? It's Kirk! He's the captain, and many more people need him in their lives then any of the souls who needed McCoy. Even Joanna could get by on her own now.

Spock shakes his head. "Neither I nor the captain would have let you go that far."

"Then why was I even able to put my hands on him?" Frustration building, McCoy slams his hands on his deks. "How was I ever able to even get the chance to harm him?" It's pathetic, his whimpering, but it just doesn't make sense. Nothing that happened on Beta III made any sense.

"The captain thought he could talk you out of calling for the lawgivers." Spock stands a little straighter and crosses his arms. "Evidently, he was wrong."

"Evidentally." Bitter. That's the only way to describe McCoy's feelings. Worn out, tired, and so completely bitter.

Spock unfolds his arms and holds his hands behind his back. "If that is all, I must be going now."

"I won't stop you Mr. Spock." McCoy settles back into his chair, as the door opens. Why had he even stopped by? Once it's shut the weight of his worries all falls ontop his shoulders. The doctor slumps forward in his chair. He holds his head with shaking hands. Lpeft alone to wrestle with the truth of his actions, the wounds he had been picking at minutes earlier now feel raw and start to fester.

As a medical professional Bones knows he should disinfectant and dress any wound. What sort of bandage could he possibly apply to this? There's no cure for feelings. If there was Spock would have undoubtedly used it by now. As much as the vulcan tries to hide his human half, Bones can tell, Kirk could too, it's just a facade. A lie to protect himself.

Maybe that's what he needs. A lie.

Instead, McCoy lets the wound fester, and his dark thoughts grow.

Several hours later, and Bones' self-imposed isolation was beginning to wear a little thin. While the other nurses and doctors came in and out of the sickbay to tend to the other patient McCoy had refused everyone entry into his office. While it was a little difficult at first due to the absence of a door separating his space from the rest of the sickbay, after McCoy verbally chased the third person from his office. Now only Nurse Chapel was daring enough to enter, and even she realized what McCoy needed now was space.

Movement, and shifting in the rest of the sickbay kept McCoy's office from falling into complete silence. It was a small mercy. If he was left utterly alone, with nary a sound to distract him from his thoughts, Bones would be spiraling twice as fast then he currently was.

What must he have been feeling back then? How could he ever put his hands around Jim's throat? What was he thinking?

What is Kirk thinking? Was his old friend currently wrestling with the same thoughts and concerns that plague his own mind? Is that why Kirk hadn't come back down? Could be. Kirk was the kind of man who was open and honest, but when he had to deal with heavy emotions he was a represser through and through. McCoy had seen it time and again from him. Even before he was given the Enterprise to command. This situation, wasn't something they should avoid.

McCoy couldn't in good conscience, stay on the Enterprise with this hanging over his head. No. Even if Kirk was avoiding him, this was a talk they needed. Selfishly, it's what he needs.

Not confident so much as he's determined, McCoy walks out of the sickbay and heads straight for the bridge. Nurse Chapel's protests did nothing to slow the doctor down.

Ordering the elevator to the bridge, McCoy shoves his hands behind his back. He'd have put them into his pockets if these pair of pants had any. Anywhere that wasn't out and about in front of him was good enough for the doctor. For now at least. He didn't want to look at them. Nor did he want to see how Kirk would react to their presence. Not yet. Maybe after their conversation he could test the waters and see if he would ever be able to touch his friend again.

The doctor shakes his head. Stop it. Now was not the time to get ahead of himself. If he wasn't so keen on keeping his hands out of sight, Bones would have started to chew on his nails.

When he steps onto the bridge, only one head turned his way. While Uhura and Sulu remained focused on their work, Spock was not at his posting. Instead, he was seated in the captain's chair, head turned around to see McCoy standing in the doorway.

"Doctor, is there something wrong in the medical wing?"

"No, no." Bones waves off the questions. "I was looking for Jim."

"The captain has returned to his room. Would you like me to call him and see if he's awake for visitations?"

"No. No don't worry about it. It's nothing." McCoy strikes the idea down and waves Spock off. Spock nods and turns back around to watch the monitor.

McCoy turns on his heel back towards the elevator. As he steps inside Spock calls out, "Let the captain know that the rest of alpha shift will be retiring soon."

Biting his lip, McCoy holds back his words. Know it all. "sickbay." Bones orders and the elevator starts to go down. He wasn't even heading for Jim's room.

He walks back to the sickbay with a pit in the bottom of his stomach. Could he safely assume that Kirk was avoiding him on purpose? Hell, he might've, and Bones can't even bring himself to be upset about it. If anything he hopes that's the case. What would be worse, Kirk's unfailing loyalty and trust getting him hurt in the end, or Jim refusing to ever talk to him again? Bones can't quite decide.

When he walks back into the sickbay McCoy walks straight for his desk. He opens the bottom drawer and pulls out his brandy as well as one of the three glasses he keeps with the bottle. The lab is quiet. It's so quiet that pouring out the brandy sounds more like a stream than a drink. Though that thought could be spawned from an increasing need to go somewhere wild and hide away for a few months, as it could be a valid comparison.

Once again, McCoy sits back down in his chair. At this point, it was more a bed for him than the one in his assigned room. He grabs the glass and slides it along the desk. It leaves a trail of moisture along the top with it. He stares into the glass, not even interested in taking a sip. Typically he'd drink to relax, to sleep, or to just take the edge off of an otherwise horrible day.

The brandy stares back at him, highlighting just how exhausted he looks. "How many more days on this ship do you have?" Silence. Bones blinks as he lets out a sigh. When he opens his eyes again it's not his reflection in the glass, but Kirk's face growing red as the tips of McCoy's fingers tighten around his neck.

He smacks the glass away. Brandy spills over the desktop, as the glass shatters against the floor. "Doctor?" Nurse Chapel calls as she runs in.

She stops in the middle of the doorway. Her eyes dart back and forth from the desk to the floor. "Doctor McCoy?"

"I-I," his voice trails off, as McCoy holds his hands close to his chest.

The door to the sickbay opens. "Bones? Spock said you were looking for me." Before anyone could stop him, Kirk strolls over towards McCoy's office. "Nurse Chapel is the doctor in?"

"He," he hesitates before stepping out of the doorway. "He is sir." Chapel hangs her head, as McCoy pushes his chair away from his desk. He quickly stands as Kirk's face goes from a loose smile to confusion as he spies the mess.

Bones quickly huddles over the broken glass. He frantically picks up the pieces. "Nurse, can you help me?"

"Of course doctor." She begins to walk past the captain, who steps in front of her and bends over the mess instead.

"Grab a rag and clean the desk, nurse. I'll help the doctor." Kirk orders as he grabs a shard of glass near McCoy's hand. The doctor immediately pulls his hands away.

"Bones! Are you alright?" Kirk asks resting a hand on McCoy's shoulder.

"I'm fine, just," his voice drifts off as he catches sight of his reflection in the shards. A cut on his hand here. The corner of his eye over there. That was the face of the man who had attacked Jim. McCoy glances up and sees that Kirk not only noticed his reaction but was hurt by it. Bones hangs his head, going back to picking up the last of the shards.

He tenses up as Kirk kindly squeezes Bones' shoulder. "A lot on your mind?" Hands shaking, McCoy raises his head. With a grin on his face, Kirk remains by his side. The laugh lines around his mouth were becoming more noticeable by the day. So two were the crow's feet. Not that Bones would ever bring them up. At least not outside their jests.

He turns his head away, looking back down at his cupped hands. "More than you know."

"Bones." McCoy pulls further away, but Kirk doesn't let him out from under his grasp. "Bones, look at me." McCoy closes his eyes and lifts his head. Breathing slowly, he opens his eyes to see the captain's own staring back. It was one of the many moments where McCoy almost felt as if Kirk was able to look into his soul. It feels almost comforting, to have someone who can see him so clearly.

That was until McCoy noticed the slightly red marks along Kirk's neck. They were barely noticeable, but now that he knew what happened, there was no way for McCoy not to notice. "Did I-" McCoy's voice shakes and he cuts himself off. His eyes flicker towards the doorway where Chapel promptly turns around in, and leaves. Now he pulls himself out from under Kirk's hold. He leans back and fixes a glare on Kirk. "Are you still hurt?" He can't quite bring himself to ask if he had done that. Not when there was no point, because who else could have gotten so close? No one.

"Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

"I told Spock not to bother you."

"He seemed to believe this urgent." Kirk stands up and offers McCoy his hand. The doctor stands on his own. He walks away from Kirk and crosses the room to the trash can instead. "I believe he was right."

"I'm sorry captain." Bones begins and he can hear Kirk crossing the room. Each of his steps echoes in the small office. "If you want my resignation then you will have it within the hour."

"That wasn't you, Bones."

"It wasn't me in control of myself but it was my body, my face, my action." McCoy turns to face Kirk, his face contorted and heart full of anguish. Bones folds his hands behind his back. "How can you want me to stay?"

Kirk grabs McCoy's shoulders. "Because you're my friend and my doctor." The captain smiles, but Bones' frown only deepens. Kirk's face falls at the sight of this. "Bones. Bones. Bones." As he chants, Kirk looks around, shaking and rotating his head as if the floor may give him an idea.

When Kirk raises his head again his soft brown eyes hold a deeper sadness in them. He removes his hands briefly just to clap them back down. "I need you around, Bones." The desperation in Kirk's voice admittedly made Bones feel better. It felt like he was truly, actually needed.

Kirk could always find another doctor. He could always make more friends. "I should have resisted."

"No one could resist." The captain insists with a shake of his head.

"Kirk I hurt you. I can't just accept that and move on." No, but Kirk could order him too. McCoy almost waits to hear the words. 'Drop it Bones, that's an order.' Instead, Kirk surprises him instead.

"But it wasn't you Bones." Kirk grabs McCoy's wrists and raises them up. His eyes desperately plea, 'Can't you see that?' While his words insist, "It wasn't you."

McCoy stares at Kirk's neck. This time he doesn't even try hiding it.

"There's no one I'd rather have treat me." Kirk's hold on his arms grows tighter. "No other doctor in the whole fleet or outside of it could ever compare."

He moves to push Kirk's arms away. "No other doctor would have-"

"Been able to resist, Doctor McCoy," Spock interjects as he steps into the room. McCoy's hands freeze on top of Kirk's arms. "You are not to blame."

Damn it. It was getting harder to hold back the tears. McCoy blinks to calm his watery eyes. "What if it happens again?" Focus on the problem. Keep pushing. He has too until Kirk finally accepts the truth. Spock is bound to see the logic behind replacing him.

"Powers of manipulation that strong are rare, doctor." Spock steps closer, closing the space between himself and the two of them. Strategically the taller man places himself in front of the desk. His frame blocks it from view, but McCoy would swear he saw Chapel sneak behind the vulcan to clean it.

Kirk was all too pleased with Spock's two cents. "See Bones, it won't happen again."

"That is not what I said, Captain." Spock looks back to McCoy. "If it does I believe we will be able to restrain you as carefully as the captain did yesterday."

McCoy feels like he's going insane arguing with these two. "You can't know that for sure Spock."

"No, but the odds are in our favor." Spock almost sounds merry.

Kirk smiles at that, and McCoy can't help but smile too. Fine, maybe he won't leave. This time, but this can't become a reoccurring problem. "Jim, if I ever lose my mind again I want you to ask for a replacement even before the mission is finished."

He doesn't agree. Instead, Kirk skirts around the demand. He smiles and with a light chuckle, pats McCoy's back. "It's been a long forty-eight hours Bones. You need to rest."

"I'm the doctor, Jim." McCoy wags his finger at Kirk. "Don't start telling me what I need."

Spock steps closer, and he'd swear the vulcan was smirking. Not that Spock would ever admit to it. "Rest would be the most appropriate action, doctor."

McCoy waves his hand through the air towards Spock's chest, and he leans closer to Kirk as he says, "Oh great, now you've got him started too."