Archive of Our Own

“Doctor, as I have already explained extensively, this crystalline structure is much more than, as you put it, a ‘hunk of rock’,” Spock said. McCoy thought he heard a tinge of annoyance in his tone.

“Listen here, you green-blooded hobgoblin. I don’t give a damn if it’s a rock or a crystal or a magical portal to another dimension. It’s dangerous and I’m telling you to get rid of it,” McCoy growled right back.

The crystal in question sat between the two men, glowing a faint blue color. Holographic screens surrounded it, displaying data McCoy didn’t even bother to try to understand.  Spock sat down his tricorder, typed a command into the table, and a force-field encapsulated it.

“As you have no factual data to verify your claim, doctor, I will have to decline. I have found no indication that what is happening to those two crew members in sickbay is related in any way to this crystal.” Spock folded his hands behind his back, posture ramrod straight. His face conveyed no emotion, but his eyes sparkled in that annoying way they did when the pointy eared bastard thought he was right and McCoy was wrong.

McCoy shoved his padd in Spock’s face, pointing at the readouts on display. “Ensign Carnahan and Lieutenant Howards were perfectly healthy no less than forty-eight hours ago. I oversaw Carnahan’s annual physical myself and I found nothing to be concerned about. Now you want me to believe that both of them falling ill just hours after you bring that damn rock aboard isn’t a coincidence?”

Spock arched one perfect brow at him. “I assure you doctor, there is no such thing as ‘coincidence’ and to believe in such a concept is to believe in illogical fallacies.”

“You emotionless bastard,” McCoy shouted. He stepped forward to get into Spock’s personal space, hating that he was several inches shorter than the Vulcan. He couldn’t loom properly when he had to look up. “My patients are dying as we speak. None of the scans can find a cause for why their organs are shutting down. They haven’t eaten or drank anything the rest of the crew hasn’t. They didn’t go planet-side. None of the people who went planet-side have any symptoms. What other conclusion would you draw, Mister I-am-smarter-than-thou?”

Spock watched him quietly for a moment, neither one moving away. Their stubbornness and wills at battle and McCoy would be damned if he let Spock win in a test of wills. The comms chimed, announcing an incoming call. Spock stared him down a second longer before he stepped away. “Answer,” he called to the computer.

“Spock,” Jim called. “The survey team found evidence that the crystals on the surface are a kind of natural deterrent against hostiles. Add to that what’s happening in sickbay and I can’t allow the crystal to stay on board. Send that thing back to the planet and then report to sickbay. Have Bones look you over. Kirk out.”

McCoy considered, for just a moment, simply turning and walking away, being content in the simple knowledge that, for once, he was right and Spock was wrong. He didn’t need to say anything, to gloat. Spock had his orders and he wouldn’t disobey Jim, even if he believed differently. But then he remembered that Spock had just insulted him multiple times. Nope, he couldn’t let this go. “Looks like believing in coincidences isn’t ‘illogical’ after all.”

Spock said nothing in return. He merely ignored the doctor as he prepped the sample to be beamed back to the planet. McCoy left to return to sickbay, content that for now, he’d proven he wasn’t a complete idiot to Spock.

After the crystal was beamed back to the planet, both members of the crew made drastic recoveries. In a matter of hours, they could be taken off life support. By the next morning they were recovered enough that McCoy felt confident they could return to their quarters with strict orders to rest. By the end of the week, they had returned to active duty, no more fazed than if they’d gotten a papercut. Being exposed to strange and life-threatening circumstances was slowly acclimating the crew to the weirdness of space. McCoy hated every moment of it, and would continue to, no matter how many replicating fluff balls or mind reading species they came across. Everything they came into contact with just seemingly wanted to make his job harder.

When a Priority One message came from Starfleet Headquarters requesting their help at a nearby Federation planet with rescue and evacuation procedures, McCoy was certain this was another one of the universe’s attempts to kill them all. Thoria21 was home to a humanoid, post-warp species known as the Davvarn. According to reports, most of the planet had been nearly inhospitable long ago, so the Davvarn created a way to change the atmospheric weather, bringing rain to the deserts and thawing the ice-covered lands. But the very machine they relied on to keep their people safe from the horrors of their planet’s weather was apparently malfunctioning. Strange and powerful weather phenomena had formed all over the planet and the people were significantly unprepared to face nature’s fury. Both the Archer and Farragut had been called in to help as well. All personnel were ordered to beam down to the planet and assist the natives in any way they could. McCoy, being a doctor, was included in those orders, to his utter displeasure.

Jim slapped him on the back as he stepped up onto the transporter pad. “Don’t look so grave, Bones. The area you’re going to is only getting rain. You’ll be totally fine. Plus, Spock’s going with you too.”

“Captain, would it not be a better use of my skills to allow me to assist in the repairs to the Davvarn’s weather control device?” Spock said, stepping up to take his place beside McCoy and the others of their landing party.

Jim shook his head. “Fleet has already assigned some scientists from Archer to look into what’s wrong. You know what they say, too many cooks in the kitchen.”

Spock raised an arched brow at him. “Very well, Captain,” his tone saying he did not, in fact, say such things.

“Jim,” McCoy drawled. “How much rain are we talkin’ about here? The area we’re headed to is mountainous. With enough rain, who knows what could come sliding down? Landslides. Flash floods. Rock falls. Not to mention if there’s lightning. Do you even know what happens to the human body when it’s struck by lightning?” He clutched his medkit harder into his side.

Jim smiled at him, as if everything McCoy just mentioned were mere inconveniences instead of the deadly natural disasters they were. “You worry too much, Bones. Your job is to go down, treat the injured, get the residents to the nearest evac shelter, and come back. There’s nothing to worry about.” And with that he nodded to the tech at the controls and the transport deck disappeared.

“Five hypos. No! Ten hypos. Plus, he’s due for another Andorian pavlo virus check,” McCoy grumbled to himself as they were assaulted by the heavy rain pouring from the sky. Imagining all the discomforts he could cause Jim when or if he made it back to the Enterprise helped distract him from the torrential downpour falling from the sky.

He was kept mostly dry by his suit, but the winds were extreme this far up the mountain, whipping the rain into a near horizontal angle that blasted him directly in the face. He moved from aid station to aid station around the village, administering hypos and bandaging wounds as needed. Every once in a while, he’d spot Spock directing the uninjured towards other Starfleet personnel and the evac center. Even with his hair so drenched it was dripping, the damn Vulcan didn’t look like anything was amiss. As if he spent every day standing in torrential downpours created by an alien machine they knew little to nothing about. He could just imagine the amount of flu cases he was going to see in sickbay after this.

 “Resha? Resha?” McCoy could barely hear someone call over the howling of the wind. He exited the shelter, squinting against the rain to see. One of the natives was wandering around the edge of town, glancing out towards the river. He hurried over.

“Can I be of any help?” he called, layering on his accent in an unconscious decision to appear as calming and nonthreatening as possible.

The person turned. They were feminine in appearance, wet hair a dark green sheet down their back. Their eyes blinked side to side instead of up and down, but other than that, they looked human. “My son,” they sobbed. “I turned away for just a moment. He was right by my side. Now I cannot find him. Another said they saw a small shape wander in this direction.” They pressed their hands against their mouth in agitation. “What if he wandered near the river? It often floods. He could be swept away.”

He gave their shoulder a kind squeeze. “Don’t you worry, we’ll find him.” He flipped open his communicator. “Spock. We’ve got a missing child on our hands.”

Static filtered through the line for a moment before Spock answered. “Understood. Last seen location? Appearance? Name?”

“Some locals said they spotted a kid wandering off towards the river.” He looked at the parent expectantly.

“He is six years old. Shoulder length green hair, wearing a blue evac suit. His name is Resha.”

McCoy repeated the information to Spock. “Understood. Proceed towards the river with caution. Myself and the others will join you. Spock out.”

He pocketed his comm and gave the parent a reassuring smile. “You should head back to one of the shelters, in case he manages to make his way back before we find him.”

They nodded and turned to leave. “Thank you,” they called as they walked away.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mumbled to himself. “We ain’t found him yet.”

He made his way downstream, tricorder out to search for life signs. It gave back depressing readings. How a little bit of water could disrupt his instruments, he didn’t know, but the readings it showed were utterly nonsensical. He put the padd away with a huff. Guess he’d have to do things the old-fashioned way. He trudged along, arm up to shield his eyes from the rain. A blob in the distance caught his attention. As he grew nearer, he could make out the vague shape of a small person in blue.

“Resha?” he yelled into the wind.

“Stay away!” the kid yelled back. “The ground!”

McCoy stopped and took in the state of the ground. The kid had managed to wander dangerously close to the riverbank, down a slight incline that under less serious circumstances wouldn’t have been a big deal. Just ahead of him the dirt and mud turned into a gravel-sand mixture. There were scuff marks on the incline where they’d tried to climb up the bank but had slid back down. McCoy glanced back in the direction of the village. He could see no sign of Spock or his crew.

He crouched down so he could look the kid in the eye. “Don’t worry, Resha. We’re gonna get you out of this. Someone is waiting for you back home.”

The kid’s lip did the quivering thing they always do before the waterworks start. “Mom,” Resha mumbled.

“Yeah, your mom is waiting for you. So, what do ya say we work together and get you back to her safe and sound?” Resha rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Great. Now I need you to stay very still for me, okay? Think you can do that?”

When the kid nodded again McCoy stood, glancing around for anything he could use as an anchor. If he tried to reach down and pull the kid out, the shift in his center of gravity might send them both tumbling down the bank and into the river. Which was already swollen, water splashing and churning in dangerous warning. If they fell into that, there was a good chance they weren’t getting back out. As he was searching he heard someone call his name and glanced up to see Spock jogging towards him. He raised his hand in greeting when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Glancing behind Spock, McCoy saw something that made the blood in his veins run cold.

He turned and sprinted back towards the kid, trying without much real hope to outrun the massive wave of water barreling down upon them from upstream. It would slam right into Resha on the bank, pulling him into its grasp where they’d never be able to get to him. His legs screamed in protest but he ignored them. It would be close. He hadn’t wandered far, well within visual range of the kid, but the water was fast . Faster than human legs could possibly run.

He reached the top of the bank a breath before the water did. He dived forward, grabbed the kid, and swung, using his own momentum to throw him up towards the top of the bank. He saw Resha scramble up to safety moments before the water slammed into him. The impact felt like he’d been tackled by a raging Klingon, beating against his body in rapid succession, but he strained against every instinct to not let go of the precious air in his lungs. The water spun him around in chaotic, dizzying circles until he had no way of knowing which way was up. Not that he had any chance of fighting against the current anyways.

The river slammed him against something hard, his head connecting with a solid crack. The shock forced a gasp from him, and although he knew he shouldn’t, he breathed in. Pain screamed through his lungs as they filled with water. God, he was really going to die like this. He would never get another chance to hug his daughter again, to see her graduate school, get married, have a family. His body jerked in the throes of asphyxiation. Just as the pain was fading with his consciousness, something hot snagged his arm and jerked. His head cleared the surface of the water and he coughed and gasped as his lungs fought to clear themselves.

“Hold on, doctor,” he heard Spock say by his ear before another jarring impact hit them both. This time pain seared up his right leg, taking his consciousness with it.

~*~

When Spock saw Dr. McCoy suddenly turn and sprint away from him, he knew something was wrong. A moment later the sound of roaring water reached his ears. He pushed himself from his easy jog to a full out sprint, covering ground faster than any human. But he still wouldn’t be fast enough to reach the child and Dr. McCoy before the water did. He pulled his comm unit out, shouted their coordinates and that the child had been found into it before lunging past the child scrambling to safety on the bank, and after the doctor.

He dove in and rode the currents, watching the flow for signs of undercurrent while simultaneously looking for the doctor. A dark shape flashed beneath the surface just ahead. He let the river push him towards it until he dumped into something warm and malleable, a human body. He grasped it, pulling it up to the surface. Dr. McCoy’s head breached the surface and he coughed and sputtered as he dispelled the water in his lungs.

Spock spotted a cluster of low hanging branches from a tree that was growing out of an outcropping of rocks ahead. “Hold on, doctor,” he commanded as he maneuvered them in that direction, turning them so he was between the rocks and the doctor, weighing the logic of his choice as he did so. Statistically, he had a higher chance of making it out of the river alive with his superior Vulcan strength and lung capacity. But McCoy, being the licensed medical professional, would be the more logical choice to try to keep in the less injured position. Spock found the odds of either of them exiting the river without sustaining injuries low.

Just as he reached this conclusion they slammed into the rocks. He grunted as Dr. McCoy was nearly yanked from his grasp. He heard the doctor gasp as if in pain, before his rigid form went slack in his arm. Spock’s hand snapped out at the low hanging branches, missing the first before grabbing onto the second. He used every bit of strength he had to pull them free of the river’s current with only one hand. The branch groaned and crunched as it bore both their weight, but it held. He clambered up the rocks, careful with his injured crewmate.

Once they were a safe distance from the river, Spock rested Dr. McCoy on the ground and assessed him for injuries. Red seeped through the material of his suit across his stomach. When he unzipped the outer jacket and lifted the undershirt beneath, he could see a long, thin cut that ran from the bottom of his ribs to his opposite hip. But the gash was merely superficial, not deep enough to cause any lasting damage. It would need bandaging but Spock was 97% certain it was not, in any way, life threatening. Further observations led him to believe the doctor’s right leg was fractured at the tibia, but without proper scans he could not be sure to what extent.

He scavenged around for suitable sized branches and used his and Dr. McCoy’s belts to make a splint. He checked to make sure his medkit was still strapped across his back, and felt it’s reassuring weight. Checking his tricorder for possible shelters proved to be fruitless, the data utterly illogical. He scanned their immediate surroundings before weighing his options. Dr. McCoy being unconscious could be an indication of head trauma, but he had no way of knowing to what extent until the doctor regained consciousness. It would be faster to search for shelter alone, but there was a chance that the doctor might awaken while he was gone. With a head wound, he could be disoriented and confused. It would not be wise to leave him alone in such a state. Coming to the conclusion that it would be more logical to lengthen his search time in order to bring the doctor with him and ensure his safety, Spock reached down and gathered the doctor into his arms, before setting off at a brisk walk away from the river.

~*~

The pain in his leg pulled him towards consciousness. He swayed in a rhythmic motion. Back and forth. Back and forth. And with each back, his leg bounced against something, sending fire shooting up his nerves. He tried to move, sit up, roll over, something, but he couldn’t. The swaying stopped, however, giving his poor leg a break. Hehe. Break, because it was definitely broken.

“Doctor, I ask that you try not to move. You are injured,” Spock said above him, voice vibrating through him at the same time.

It took his brain far too long to figure out why. Spock was carrying him, one warm arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees. Bridal style, how wonderful. “You don’t say,” McCoy tried to snap, but his voice was so faint and scratchy he’d be surprised if Spock even heard him.

“I just did, in fact, utter those words, doctor. I believe you are concussed.”

His training kicked in and he started taking stock of his injuries. Headache, check. Issues concentrating, check. When he peeled open his eyes, the faint light filtering through the clouds above stabbed at his sockets. He closed them tight with a hiss. Sensitivity to light or sound, check. No nausea or vomiting yet, so he supposed he was lucky. But he had classic symptoms of a mild concussion. “I hate to say it, Spock, but I think you’re right.” The deep ache from his right leg was definitely from a fracture. His stomach stung as well where the wet material of his undershirt met whatever wound was hidden underneath.

“I spotted a suitable place for shelter just ahead. Please do not try to move,” Spock said matter-of-factly, like the statement should be rather obvious, which it was, to a non-concussed mind.

Spock took a step forward and McCoy groaned as his broken leg was jarred. “Stop,” he gasped and immediately Spock halted. So the green-blooded bastard could listen when he wanted to after all. “My leg.”

Spock contemplated him for a moment before he carefully lowered McCoy back onto his feet – or, well… foot. He braced himself against a tree as Spock turned and knelt with his back to him. “Carrying you will be faster. Night will fall soon.”

McCoy stared at Spock’s back uncomprehendingly. What did Spock’s back have to do with night fall? Carry? He knew this should make sense to him, but between the pounding of blood in his ears and the pressure behind his eyes he found it extremely difficult to just hold onto a simple train of thought. He must have taken too long to act because Spock turned to give him a questioning look over his shoulder.

“Dr. McCoy, can you climb onto my back?” Spock asked. McCoy stared at him for a moment before nodding. He could probably do that. It didn’t seem too hard.

He took a step forward to reach Spock’s back and choked back a sob as his leg flared back to a blaze. He listed forward, slamming into Spock’s back. The Vulcan caught him before he could continue his downward trend and land in a heap on the ground. He’d forgotten about his leg. How could he forget his leg was broken? Damn head injury.

“I’ve got you, doctor,” Spock said, voice almost kind. With a little more manhandling, Spock got McCoy secured onto his back and they were moving again at a steady pace. The gentle back and forth rhythm of Spock’s gait lulled his addled mind into an almost trance-like state.

“Tell me about your daughter, doctor,” Spock said after a time.

“My daughter? Why you wanna know about her?” McCoy mumbled, pressing the side of his face into Spock’s shoulder. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

“Your head injury makes sleep unwise. I am attempting to engage you in conversation in order to ensure you remain conscious. So, I ask again, will you tell me about your daughter?”

“Not much to say. Ex-wife got full custody in the divorce. I get to see her for a couple days whenever I get shore leave on Earth, which is rare. God, she’s probably grown a foot since the last time I saw her.”

“Would it not have been more beneficial to you to request a post at Starbase One? Being stationed in Jupiter’s orbit would allow you to see her much more often.”

McCoy snorted. “Tried. Every time we go back home, I send a new request. Every time, it’s denied. The curse of being good at what I do I suppose. ‘The Enterprise needs the best and the brightest, Dr. McCoy. Your talents would be wasted on Starbase One, Dr. McCoy. We already have a perfectly capable CMO on that station, Dr. McCoy. Someone’s gotta keep Kirk in line, Dr. McCoy,’ that last one was Pike,” he laughed softly.

Spock said nothing for several moments and then he stopped walking. McCoy lifted his heavy head up to look. The entrance to a cave loomed before them. He couldn’t see inside, but the mouth was both wide and tall enough to allow at least five armed Klingons to walk side-by-side, each with a Klingon standing on their shoulders. The image that painted in his mind made him giggle. God, he was losing his mind, giggling in front of Spock. But the pointy eared bastard didn’t comment on his abnormal behavior.

Spock stepped over to a nearby tree and gently lowered McCoy to his one good foot again. “I will check for any local inhabitants. Please remain here.” He then turned and marched to the cave entrance, phaser out and set to stun.

“Not like I can go anywhere with this damn leg anyways,” McCoy mumbled to himself.

The rain continued to pour down from the sky with no sign it would stop anytime soon. Was this because of the weather machine or was it just nature doing what it always did—piss on anything unfortunate enough to get in its way? Did that even make sense? His thoughts flowed like molasses, thick and viscous. He’d treated a lot of head wounds in his time, but this was his first time experiencing one for himself. His patients had been right. This sucked and it was made all the worse by the fact that he was being forced to rely on Spock of all people to take care of things. He was the doctor damnit.

Footsteps echoed past the sound of rain from the cave mouth and a moment later Spock came back into view. He’d holstered his phaser, so that meant there wasn’t anything inside that would try to eat them, right?

“The cave has long been abandoned. It is safe to enter.” Spock knelt back down and McCoy let himself be manhandled back onto the Vulcan’s back. They entered the cave. The ceiling high above was obscured by gloom so McCoy couldn’t be sure exactly how far up it went. The ground was smooth rock. The cave only went back twenty or so feet, barely big enough to be a proper space to live. Perhaps that was why nothing called it home? The milky light from outside filtered in from the entrance enough for him to see.

Spock set him back on his feet by the back wall of the cave and helped lower him to the ground so he could sit. He pulled his medkit out, pulling out a hypo and fiddling with it.

“If you’re thinking of giving me pain meds, don’t,” McCoy said.

Spock paused for a split second as if surprised. “You are in pain, doctor. Why would you reject comfort from your wounds?”

“I need to be able to think, dammit. It’s bad enough my brain’s so shaken up it takes twice as long to form a proper thought. I don’t need to be hopped up on painkillers as well.”

Spock eyed him for a moment. “You have a broken leg, a head wound, and lacerations on your stomach. The pain will only increase as time goes on and swelling sets in. You will be unable to concentrate when that happens regardless. It is logical to allow me to administer both antibiotics to prevent infection and pain killers at the same time.”

McCoy thought for several long seconds, thoughts turning around and around without really connecting. He groaned in exasperation. “Fine,” he growled. “You’re the one thinking straight. Just do it.”

Spock nodded and administered the hypo without comment. McCoy took the sting without complaint. He wasn’t gonna be a big baby about it like Jim. The tiny little sting wasn’t nearly as bad as his friend always made it out to be. McCoy snorted, thinking about how Jim always overreacted. “Man wouldn’t complain even if you cut off his damn leg. But stick him with a hypo and he’ll bitch for a week.”

Spock gave him a classic eyebrow raised. “I assume you are speaking of the captain?”

McCoy snorted. “You know anyone else who whines about hypos as much as him?”

Spock shook his head. “I must admit, the captain’s reactions to hypo injections are… illogical. But perhaps he reacts in such a way in an attempt to ease tension and bring about emotional reactions from you and your staff as a means of forming connections.”

“Don’t change the fact he’s a big baby about them.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed before putting the medkit back in order and standing. “Night will fall in one point six four hours. I will attempt to find burnable material in which to start a fire. Reports say temperatures will drop dangerously low once night falls.”

The sweet haze of drugs was flowing through him finally, soothing the throbbing pain in his body and making his already sluggish thoughts come to a near standstill. McCoy nodded with an affirming grunt, eyes slipping shut without his permission. He should stay awake. Spock was leaving. Leaving? The thought of being alone did not fill him with comfort.

Hot hands gently eased him down to lay on the ground, his head pillowed against something soft and slightly damp. He tried to crack his eyes open but they only fluttered. “Spock,” he tried to say but he was pretty sure the sounds that came out of his mouth made absolutely no sense. He didn’t want to be alone. Injured animals were always picked off when alone. He couldn’t even remember what kind of predators lived in this area of the planet but that didn’t stop his mind from imagining him being picked apart by some amalgamation of carnivorous animals.

A hand checked his abdominal wound one more time before the sound of footsteps filtered away and the drugs pulled him down into unconsciousness.

The smell of woodsmoke pulled his foggy mind towards wakefulness. He turned his head, cracking his eyes open to watch Spock place a branch on the small fire he’d made near the entrance of the cave. The warmth of it seeped into him, contrasting sharply with the numbing cold that had settled into his body. He shivered and then groaned as the movement made pain spike up from his broken leg.

Spock turned at his sound of pain. He grabbed the medkit as he came over.

“How long was I out?” McCoy croaked, throat dry and scratchy.

Spock paused in his preparation of another hypo to grab his water pouch. How had he managed to hold onto so much stuff while they’d been nearly killed by a flash flood? Damn Vulcan. “You have been asleep for approximately four and a half hours.”

Spock helped him sit up to take several long drinks. The arm across his back felt wonderfully warm. Without really thinking about what he was doing, he leaned sideways to press his side up against Spock, who stiffened slightly. “You’re warm,” he mumbled.

“Your cheeks are flushed, doctor,” Spock observed.

McCoy hummed in contemplation. “Think I’ve got a fever.” He fumbled with clumsy hands to lift his jacket and shirt. Bandages had been wrapped around his torso at some point in time. He pressed his hand over the bandages slightly and hissed in pain. “Either the wound is hot or my hands are very cold. Slight puffiness and increased pain sensitivity. It’s infected.”

“I administered antibiotics. You must be mistaken,” Spock said.

McCoy tried to glare at him as best he could, but he was sure the effect was ruined by the way his eyes wouldn’t focus properly on Spock’s face. “Then unwrap the damn thing and check. God only knows what weird, antibiotic resistant bacteria live on this world. Not like it’s a cure all to every problem, Spock,” McCoy snapped.

Spock eased him back down. “Very well. It is about time to change the bandages anyways.” Deft hands worked to undo the wrapping and then paused when the gauze was carefully pulled away. McCoy tried to sit up to see but he couldn’t even properly lift his head before it thumped back down on the makeshift pillow under him. What even was that? He reached up, thoughts easily distracted, and felt the familiar texture of a standard issue survival jacket. Spock wasn’t wearing his jacket. His mind slowly connected the dots until he rather proudly came to the conclusion that the pillow under his head was in fact Spock’s jacket. Ha! Take that, head wound.

“Doctor,” Spock said, tone implying that wasn’t the first time he’d called for McCoy’s attention.

“What?” he snapped back.

“The wound is indeed infected. I am unsure of how to proceed. There is only one type of antibiotic in the medkit, which has proven ineffective against combating this strain of infection. The local flora are unfamiliar to me. Therefore, the likelihood of finding and administering a natural antibiotic is low. You are the medical professional, regardless of head injury. How do you recommend we proceed?”

It took his brain several long moments to pick apart Spock’s weirdly formal grammar before he grunted. “Nothing we can do then but wait. Without antibiotics, my immune system’s just gonna have to do what it’s meant to and fight off the infection. If it’s only been about four hours, then chances are, the symptoms are gonna get worse. Inflammation will continue to worsen. The fever will rise. Shakes, nausea, dizziness. All those fun things humans used to die from before antibiotics were discovered.”

Spock finished rewrapping the wound and sat back on his heels to eye McCoy. “Then I shall treat the symptoms as they appear.” He then stood and walked away.

What great bedside manner, McCoy thought to himself. Shivers started back up in earnest with the loss of his personal Vulcan space heater. He hugged his arms to his chest, trapping his fingers between his torso and arms to try to warm them. He wanted desperately to roll onto his side and curl into a ball, but he knew his leg would not appreciate being moved. The sound of movement made his eyes snap open. When had he closed them? Spock crouched down and placed a cool piece of cloth against his burning forehead. McCoy sighed. He was so cold, but the cool water felt heavenly all the same.

“I believe it would be beneficial for you to move closer to the fire,” Spock said, voiced pitched low.

McCoy hummed, mind floating in cool bliss and not really paying attention to the words being said.

“Leonard,” Spock said and McCoy’s eyes snapped open. Spock never said his first name. “Are you cold?”

McCoy nodded, his teeth chattering with the movement. He was so cold he was numb. Did that mean he wasn’t actually cold? How could he be cold and not cold at the same time? His mind wasn’t making any damn sense.

Hot bands of heat slipped under his shoulders and knees and he was lifted into the air. He hissed as the movement jarred his leg. “I apologize,” Spock said. He walked a few steps and then deposited McCoy to lean against the cave wall much closer to the fire while he went back for his jacket.

“If ya wanted it back, you could’ve just asked,” McCoy drawled, not really understanding what was going on anymore and assuming that Spock had moved him in order to take his jacket back.

Spock gave him an exasperated eyebrow before he placed the bundled jacket down next to McCoy. He helped the doctor lay back down. McCoy sighed in bliss. The warmth of the fire slowly seeped into him, draining the cold from his bones until the shivers subsided. After that he drifted, never fully asleep but not entirely conscious either. The subtle sounds of Spock settling down nearby reached him through the haze.

Sometime later, either minutes or hours McCoy couldn’t be sure, Spock’s comm gave a loud crackle. McCoy cracked open his eyes, squinting against the light of the fire. “Wha-?”

“Enterprise, this is Spock. Come in. Do you read me?” Spock said into the comm unit.

Crackling static answered him. The Vulcan fiddled with the settings, calling into it again. This time a tinny voice filtered through the speakers through the static.

“Commander Spock, do you read?” Kirk’s voice had never sounded so sweet.

“Captain, there is interference in the signal but I can hear you.”

“Jesus, Spock. You know this was supposed to be a simple mission, right? How the hell did you and Bones get into this mess?” Jim asked, tone trying to be playful but McCoy could hear the tension underneath. Kid wasn’t nearly as sneaky about hiding his real feelings as he liked to think he was.

“I apologize, Captain.”

“We’ll worry about apologies once you and Bones are safely back aboard the ship. Any injuries? Do you have an approximate location?”

“We were pushed several miles downstream before I was able to acquire suitable purchase to pull us free of the river’s current and to safety. We are sheltered in a small cave less than a mile from the river to the east. I have sustained only a minor laceration on my left arm. It is not of any concern.”

“And Bones?” Jim asked, tone growing grave.

“The doctor has sustained multiple injuries. A broken right tibia, head trauma resulting in a concussion, and a shallow laceration of his abdominal that has become infected. Although the antibiotics have proven ineffective, I have stabilized him to the best of my ability, Captain.”

A hiss sounded over the comms, expressing Jim’s displeasure. “Is he conscious, Commander?”

Instead of answering Spock brought the comm closer to McCoy. “Jim,” he croaked, grimacing at how horrible his voice sounded.

“You sound like shit, Bones,” Jim joked, equal parts relief and worry in his tone.

“Well, ain’t you a charmer?” McCoy snapped back but with no real heat in his words. The familiar banter helped to sooth the slowly growing anxiety in his stomach. Or maybe that was the nausea setting in? “Don’t suppose you could beam us aboard and end my suffering?”

Jim snorted but his tone was tight with barely hidden anxiety. “’fraid not. You’re gonna have to hold on just a bit longer.”

“Let me guess, can’t find our bio signatures through whatever weirdness is in the damn rain?”

The moment of silence was answer enough. “I’m beaming down to work on that damn weather machine myself. We’ve also got teams searching the mountain for you two. Don’t you worry. We’ll find you both in no time.”

Spock pulled the comm away, pitching his voice low as if that would prevent McCoy from hearing him in the small space. “Captain, I urge expediency. The doctor’s condition has deteriorated drastically in the past few hours. Without medical intervention soon, the likelihood of survival into the morning is…low.”

“Just because I’m dyin’ don’t mean I’m deaf ,” McCoy growled in annoyance.

For a split second he thought he saw the corner of Spock’s mouth twitch into a smile but his eyes must have been playing tricks on him. Head wounds were tricky like that. There was no way in the seventh circle of hell that he’d made Spock, the cold-blooded hobgoblin, smile . Impossible.

The comm crackled to life. “I’ll work as fast as I can. Hang on, Bones. That’s an order,” Jim commanded in his Captain voice. McCoy felt the urge to salute, but he wasn’t that far gone. He wasn’t about to make an even bigger fool of himself than he already had in front of Spock.

Spock held the comm back out to him. “I’m a southern man, Jim. A goddamn infection ain’t gonna be the end of me.”

Jim’s laugh filtered through the comm before Spock pulled it away again. He continued talking quietly to Jim for a while longer, but McCoy stopped trying to pay attention. He was exhausted. He had no idea what time it was, but he thought it was late. Even with the small amount of rest he’d gotten, it didn’t feel like nearly enough. His body ached the way human bodies do when they’re sick and he hated it. He was a doctor damnit. He wasn’t supposed to be the sick one. He was supposed to be the one jabbing people with hypos and threatening them until they listened and stayed in bed to rest.

He went back to drifting for a while, until his feverish thoughts turned from nonsense to vivid nightmares. The Enterprise burned. Sickbay alight in bright, burning flames. The injured and dying screamed in pain around him as the fire consumed them. He tried to move, to get to them, to put out the fire, to do something, but every time he moved his body flared in pain. Jim fell through the flames, uniform blackening as his body burned. McCoy fought harder to get to him. The pain flared even brighter. He fell to his knees.

“Doctor…”

Spock pushed through the roaring flames next. His skin blistered and oozed as the flames ate away at him. He moved to Jim’s side without putting out the flames on his uniform. McCoy screamed at him to put them out, to take care of himself first, but his voice was swallowed by the roar of the flames. Spock’s blackened fingers pressed against Jim’s neck and his impassive face morphed into an expression of such immense grief and sadness that it caused claws of pain to dig into McCoy’s own heart. Spock curled over Jim’s body in defeat before listing sideways where he collapsed on the floor, eyes open and unseeing.

“Doctor McCoy…”

He was alone. The screams of his dying crew were replaced by the complete and utter silence of the void of space. He drifted, but even then, he felt no relief from his pain. The bitter cold ate into him as every cell in his body froze. He never really understood how Jim could love space so much. Where he saw potential and worlds not yet seen, all McCoy saw was the complete emptiness of it all. One wrong move, one busted wall of their ship, and a person would be lost in the void, consumed by it without hope of rescue or a chance of survival. Space wasn’t empty, it was hungry and it consumed anything living that entered it. McCoy hated space because it made him feel so utterly small and alone. Like he was this inconsequential blip that could change so little. When the galaxy was made of trillions of stars and an infinite amount of worlds, how could one small human ever really matter?

“Doctor!”

He was so cold. The void drew every last drop of heat from his body and he watched helplessly as his body started to shake, pieces of himself breaking off and drifting away into space. Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, that his body would give up this impossible fight, a miracle happened. Warmth bloomed across his back. It seeped into his bones, his joints, his lungs and heart. He sighed and the blackness of space was replaced by the dark ceiling of a cave. The cave they were taking shelter in.

He wasn’t lying on the ground anymore but instead was propped against something malleable and warm. He craned his head around and saw science blues out of the corner of his eye. “Have you regained consciousness, doctor?” Spock asked and his voice rumbled through McCoy’s back.

“Spock, why are we cuddling?”

“I assure you, doctor, our close proximity is entirely for medical reasons. You were experiencing great discomfort in your sleep, from what I surmised to be from an increase in your fever resulting in a heightened sensitivity to the cold. In order to preserve firewood, the most logical solution would be to make use of my higher body temperature from my Vulcan biology to ease your chill and stop your shivering before you worsen your injuries any further. Hence why we are ‘cuddling’, as you put it.”

McCoy sighed but he didn’t move. Spock really was a space heater against his back and with the fire still burning in front he felt truly warm for the first time since he’d fallen into that damn river. His leg throbbed. His head throbbed. His stomach throbbed. Honestly, everything throbbed to some degree or another. He was getting too old for this.

“You should attempt to rest some more. Human physiologies require large amounts of rest when they are ill or injured.”

“Why do you always talk to me like I don’t know anything?” McCoy mumbled.

“I’m afraid I do not understand what you mean, Dr. McCoy.”

“I’m a doctor , Spock. I know what a human body needs better than most. I don’t need you telling me these things. And before, with that damn crystal, just because I didn’t have irrefutable facts didn’t mean my instincts as a doctor with years of experience should’ve been brushed off, but that’s what you did. That’s what you do . Believe it or not Spock, but there are other people who know things too.”

“You seem to be operating under a false assumption, doctor. You mistake restating facts for superiority. I know that, as a medical professional, you understand the needs of living beings intimately. But, in these years I have spent aboard the Enterprise and around humans, I have learned that they consider reminders – restatement of the facts – as a sign of care and consideration. As a Vulcan, I cannot… express my concern or… worry for your wellbeing in traditional human ways. By reminding you of your needs, I am attempting to convey that I care. Although, it seems I have failed in that regard.”

McCoy opened his mouth to speak but Spock continued on. Apparently, he was feeling chatty after being stranded in a cave all night.

“You are an excellent doctor and there is no one on the Enterprise the crew trust more with their wellbeing. They trust the captain to lead them to safety, but they trust you to save them when injury cannot be avoided. You are an extremely intelligent individual and although I know it is entirely illogical to feel this way, at times I am… intimidated by you.”

McCoy tried to turn to look at Spock’s face in shock but was forced to stop when the action pulled at his stomach wound. He hissed and Spock gently turned him back around. “Intimidated? Of me ? You never gave the impression that you found me intimidating. So, you insulting my intelligence in every conversation we have is your way of saying you think I’m smart? I don’t buy that, Spock.”

“I fail to see how pointing out the illogicalness of an argument is in any way insulting to one’s intelligence. But, upon further thought I have come to understand that because humans are inherently illogical creatures, that the very act of pointing out your illogicalness could be seen as an insult to your very nature. And therefore, it is only logical that I apologize.”

McCoy took several long seconds to process Spock’s Vulcanness. “I didn’t hear an actual apology,” McCoy mumbled, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Spock took a deeper breath than usual, held it for a few seconds before releasing it very slowly. The small smile on his face grew into a full-blown grin. That had to be a Vulcan’s version of a sigh. He’d just made Spock sigh. The knowledge that he could pull off such a feat filled him with a strange sense of pride. He’d seen Jim manage to break past Spock’s indomitable Vulcan walls and bring about small but real emotional reactions a time or two, but he never thought he’d ever manage to do it himself. He always felt that he and Spock weren’t close enough for there to ever be a chance of doing so.

“I apologize, Dr. McCoy,” Spock said very quietly.

McCoy snorted, barely holding back a laugh. “I suppose I can forgive ya, you pointy-eared bastard,” he said jokingly.

“That is most appreciated,” Spock said in return, tone almost playful.

McCoy couldn’t hold back a laugh that time and he groaned as he accidently jerked his leg in the process. What little energy their conversation had given him quickly dissipated. He leaned heavily against Spock, resting his head back onto his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.

“Why are you apologizing, doctor?”

“I’m usually the one giving Jim grief for managing to find trouble on simple missions. You should be up there helping the natives get to shelter, not stuck in a cave with me because I was foolish enough to get caught in a flash flood. I should have stayed with the kid instead of wandering off to find something to pull him up. That was stupid and it nearly got the both of us killed.”

“Doctor, you behaved in a manner befitting a Starfleet officer. You were willing to do whatever was required of you to protect that child. Apologizing for saving a life is… illogical,” Spock said the last word with exaggerated purpose.

McCoy let his heavy eyes slip closed and grinned. “Mr. Spock, I do believe you just tried to crack a joke.”

“Vulcans do not joke, doctor.”

After that they slipped back into silence and McCoy fell back into the limbo between awake and asleep. But his rest stayed peaceful, no longer tormented by dreams of burning or freezing. His fever must have risen again because the next time he awoke he was still not fully aware. He heard Jim’s voice. Spock moved and spoke back, but the words they uttered slid like water through his mind, never sticking.

He was moved but he felt little pain. His mind whispered that that was a bad sign, but he didn’t have the energy left to be worried. He felt weightless of a moment and then his bruised mind was assaulted by light and sound. Cool hands grabbed him, moved him and he felt confused. Spock’s hands were warm. No matter how high his fever grew, Spock had stayed warm against him. He heard the familiar voices of Dr. M’Benga and nurse Chapel and he finally understood. He was back aboard the Enterprise. It was like his mind had been waiting for this moment to finally let go because he felt like he was dropping, darkness covering his mind and he fell fully unconscious.

~*~

The doors to sickbay swished open and Spock’s sensitive nose could pick up the smell of disinfectant and blood underneath. He would have to inform nurse Chapel of the need for increased sanitation, but it could wait until after he accomplished what he came to do. He made his way to the back where the private rooms were located. Dr. M’Benga spotted him on his way and waved him over.

“How is he, doctor?” Spock asked, clasping his hands behind his back, and relaxing his shoulders slightly to signal to the human that he could be at ease in his presence.

Dr. M’Benga sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, but there was a small smile on his face. “Being a horrible patient like I knew he would be.”

Spock raised an eyebrow at the statement. “Should the captain be informed? If disciplinary measures are required-”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the doctor cut him off. “Don’t you know that human doctors always make awful patients, Commander Spock?”

“I was not aware of such a fact.”

Dr. M’Benga laughed. “They know too much, so they keep trying to undermine their doctor’s decisions and order the nurses around. It’s even worse with him because sickbay is also his responsibility, so he keeps trying to sneak in some work when he should be resting. Nurse Chapel has had to lecture him twice already.” He shook his head ruefully. “He’s a stubborn man, I’ll give him that. Good luck, Commander.” And with that the doctor moved on to complete other tasks.

Spock pushed aside the privacy curtain. Dr. McCoy was awake. The red flush of fever was gone from his face, eyes clear and lucid. His right leg was propped up on a pillow. He had a padd in his lap and glanced up when Spock entered.

“Dr. M’Benga has informed me that you are not to be attempting work when you should be resting, Dr. McCoy,” Spock said, his eyebrow shooting up.

Dr. McCoy scowled at him. “ Reading isn’t a strenuous activity, Spock.”

Spock took a step closer to the bed, face softening minutely. “And yet, when the captain attempts the same tasks, you proceed to lecture him ‘until the cows come home’ I believe is the way Jim puts it.”

Dr. McCoy chuckled. He motioned to the chair by his bedside. “If you’re gonna come all the way here to see little ol’ me, then ya can sit your butt down in a chair. You towering over me ain’t helpin’ my blood pressure.”

Spock did as asked, hands resting lightly in his lap, back so straight it didn’t touch the backrest. He nodded at the doctor’s elevated leg. “Has the break not been sufficiently healed?”

Dr. McCoy shook his head. “Oh no, it was healed my first day stuck in this damn bed, but they want me to keep it elevated anyways, in case of swelling. Honestly the only reason I’m still stuck here is because M’Benga wants to keep an eye on the head injury. Which is also healed, by the way,” he said the last part with exaggerated volume.

From somewhere in another part of sickbay came a hollered reply from Dr. M’Benga. “You know as well as I do that head injuries are not to be underestimated.” Dr. McCoy motioned towards Dr. M’Benga’s voice, facial expression clearly saying, see what I mean? “And get off your padd before I send in Chapel.”

Dr. McCoy glared in Dr. M’Benga’s direction before turning off the padd and setting it aside. “You see what I mean, since when is the CMO not in charge of his own sickbay?”

“When said CMO is recovering from grievous injuries.”

Dr. McCoy scoffed with good humor. “They ain’t grievous anymore. I’ve got things to do, damnit.”

“And you lecture me about rushing back to work too soon,” Jim’s voice drifted through the curtain a moment before it was brushed aside and he entered. The captain smiled down at Dr. McCoy, eyes sparkling with both happiness and snark. “I’m calling hypocrisy, Bones.”

“Who’s the doctor here? You wouldn’t know peroxide from fentanyl if I labeled them for ya, so don’t go saying I don’t know when I should be able to return to work,” Dr. McCoy growled, pointing his finger at Jim who merely laughed at the doctor’s ire.

 “Dr. M’Benga says you can return to your quarters tomorrow and you’ll be back in sickbay, terrorizing patients by the end of the week. You should enjoy some time off. You’re always saying you’re overworked.”

“Because you all are crazy and leap into danger like a fish returnin’ to the sea. I take a day off and suddenly my sickbay is full of injured or sick crew suffering from god knows what that’s never been seen or documented before. If you all would be normal for even a moment, maybe I could enjoy a day off,” Dr. McCoy continued. He motioned Jim to come closer as he talked. Spock took that as a sign he’d overstayed his welcome and rose from the only chair, gesturing for Jim to take it. The captain smiled at Spock distractedly, his focus on the doctor’s rant. Spock slipped out, the sound of Jim’s laugh following him through sickbay.

Nurse Chapel smiled at him as he passed. “I don’t know what happened down there, but he’s been in a good mood since he woke up. So good job.”

Spock gave her his signature eyebrow raise. “I fail to see how being injured on an alien planet and nearly dying of one’s wounds would be a cause for an improvement of mood.”

Chapel laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. “Jim’s right, you are funny, Commander. You and the doctor should spend more time together if this is how things are gonna be from now on.” She then turned, leaving Spock to contemplate her statement in quiet confusion.

He meditated on the quandary that evening but could not come to a satisfactory conclusion. He pushed the matter aside during alpha shift the next day, but found it coming back to the forefront of his focus as he was completing forms that evening in his quarters. He failed to see how Dr. McCoy’s experience on Thoria21 would result in a betterment in temperament. He also held a difference in opinion compared to nurse Chapel. Dr. McCoy’s mood did not seem to be any worse nor better during his visit. It was only when Jim arrived that Dr. McCoy seemed to, as the human’s say, “perk up”. Perhaps that was what nurse Chapel had noticed and had mistakenly assumed that it was Spock’s presence that was the cause instead of the Captain’s.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the computer's chime notifying him of a visitor at his door. “Enter,” he called.

The door swished open and in walked Dr. McCoy. His skin was still a little pale and Spock noticed he was still slightly favoring his right leg, but he was much improved. The doctor approached Spock at his desk, posture open and easy. He watched Dr. McCoy glance around and take in the interior for a moment before Spock gestured to the two chairs in front of the desk. “Feel free to sit, doctor. I must admit, I was not expecting your company so soon after you were released from sickbay. Should you not be resting in your quarters?”

Dr. McCoy slid into a seat with a small sigh, stretching his right leg out in front of him and leaning back. “I was on my way there, but I wanted to stop by real quick.” He paused for a moment, face somber and introspective. He cleared his throat. “Spock, I want to thank you for what you did on the planet back there. If you hadn’t dived into that damn river, I’d be dead.” The doctor refused to look in Spock’s direction, ears growing slightly red, from embarrassment or the increased temperature of Spock’s quarters, he couldn’t be sure.

Spock leaned forward and laced his fingers together on top of his desk. “I do not require thanks, Dr. McCoy. I did what any crew member of the Enterprise would have done. You are a valuable and irreplaceable member of the crew. If you were to perish, the crew would suffer a great loss.”

Dr. McCoy turned to look him in the eyes properly for the first time since he entered the room. “Leonard.”

“Pardon?”

“Dr. McCoy, Dr. McCoy, Dr. McCoy. That’s all you ever call me, or just ‘doctor’. We survived a flash flood and spent the night in a cave together while you took care of my dying ass. I think we’re on a first name basis at this point.”

Spock nodded slowly. “If… you feel forgoing your title and calling you by your given name is preferable, then I shall endeavor to do so when we are off duty, Leonard.”

Dr. McCoy gave him a small smile, just the upturning of one corner of his lips before he slapped his palms against his thighs, uttered a “welp” and stood. “This was both nice and extremely awkward, so I’m going to retreat to my quarters before Jim tries to swing by, sees I’m not there, and starts a ship-wide manhunt for me.”

“The likelihood of the captain attempting such a thing without first trying to page you is highly unlikely.”

Dr. McCoy waved over his shoulder as he made his way to the door. “I know, Spock. That’s what we call a ‘joke’.” And with that, he was gone.

Perhaps nurse Chapel had not been mistaken. There was a subtle but noticeable shift in Dr. McCoy’s temperament, and upon further introspection, Spock came to the conclusion that he had changed as well. Their relationship contained a thread of fondness that had not been there prior to the events on Thoria21. Content with his new realization, Spock focused once more on his reports, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth.