Current mood:	accomplished
Entry tags:	fan: fanfiction, fandom: aos, fandom: tos, rating: pg-13

Fic: "Perspectives", Part 2 of 6 (Kirk/McCoy)

Title: "Perspectives" (2/6)
Author: mijan
Rating: PG-13
Summary: "You call that alive?" he hissed. "Good God, Spock! Look at him. This is Jim! Doesn't that mean anything to you?" Spock has seen Doctor McCoy work on desperate cases before. He's seen him heal the Captain dozens of times. This time, the stakes are higher, and Spock gains a new perspective on what Kirk really means to McCoy, and what they both mean to him.
Canon: ST:XI, strongly influenced by TOS.
Characters: McCoy, Kirk, Spock, with ensemble appearances by Sulu, Uhura, a couple of random Ensigns, and most of the medical staff.
Notes: My immense thanks to my beta reader, classics_geek , and my test-reader, red_rahl . You guys are awesome!

Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry is God, Paramount Pictures is Pope, and this is blasphemy. Enjoy!

Link to Part 1.

From the previous installment:

“Doctor, I would suggest that you sit down. The Captain’s vital signs have been stabilized. In contrast, yours are somewhat irregular.”
McCoy tried to think of a snappy jab to throw back, but his brain felt fuzzy. “I’m fine, Spock. I need to monitor Jim. We need to start synthesizing an antidote. We need to... to...” He felt himself stumble, and was barely aware of Spock’s hands supporting him, guiding him to a cot.
“Doctor McCoy, you have been running on adrenaline for the past hour, which has thus far countered the effect of the sedative toxin, but that has clearly run out.”
“But... Jim... I...”
“Fascinating – there is a logical use for adrenaline in humans after all.”
“Pointy… hobgoblin… need to… help Jim…”
He was out cold before he even reached the cot.


And now, the continuation:


*********


It had been precisely one minute and seven seconds since Spock had settled Doctor McCoy on one of the empty cots, but Spock hadn’t moved. He had yet to turn away and begin working on the antidote, or to review the Captain’s vital signs, or to continue to assist with the autopsy on Ensign Horvat. In part, he was paying a silent tribute to McCoy’s remarkable performance; his solution for providing life support to the Captain was both effective and clever. Also, despite his frantic human emotions over the status of his good friend, he had functioned with admirable efficiency.

Or perhaps he had functioned so well because of his frantic human emotions.

Human physiology and biochemistry had left the other members of the away team vulnerable to the toxins on the surface, but there seemed to be evidence that emotional determination and an excessive production of adrenaline had overcome that weakness, albeit temporarily. The Doctor had certainly exhibited high adrenaline levels and notable determination, and had come through the ordeal with commendable results. Still, Spock found himself relieved that the sedative appeared to have almost no effect on Vulcan physiology.

Briefly, Spock wondered if the paralytic toxin would be equally dangerous to Vulcans as to humans. He decided that while synthesizing the antidote to the paralytic toxin, it would be valuable to test that hypothesis on computer models.

He wondered if McCoy would approve.

For a moment, he considered waking the Doctor. He was certain that McCoy would want him to do so, but it would be unwise. The scans on Ensign Ross had demonstrated that although the sedative toxin created effects no different than any other sedative, it did not metabolize out of the system more rapidly with epinephrine than without it. It simply had to run its course; therefore, waking McCoy artificially would be a temporary fix at best. Also, McCoy’s face was pale and his respiration was shallow; it was clear that the man had reached the point of collapse for a good reason. Even in sleep, he appeared tense and restless.

Allowing himself a small frown and a moment of indulgent curiosity, Spock reached over and lightly touched McCoy’s hand, giving himself just enough physical contact to ascertain McCoy's emotional state. He wasn't surprised by what he learned; McCoy's subconscious mind was as deeply worried and uneasy as McCoy's behavior had indicated since the moment Spock had seen him dousing Kirk's hands with water on the planet's surface.

With anyone else, he would have considered it an ethical violation to interfere with the mental state of another sentient being, but this was McCoy. The Doctor cared for everyone else, but who would see to his health and well-being? Additionally, it was a logical decision; a well-rested doctor would be more effective. Mentally riding the surface of McCoy's emotions, Spock projected a state of absolute calmness. Within seconds, McCoy's tense features relaxed, his breathing became slower and deeper, and he slipped into a proper state of level-four sleep. Satisfied, Spock withdrew his hand and turned around.

Sickbay was quiet, in sharp contrast the tension that had reined until barely five minutes ago. Nurse Chapel was checking the readouts on the life support machine hooked up to the Captain. Ensign Ross was asleep. The voices of Doctor M’Benga and the subordinate nurses in the autopsy room were muted. The analyzers containing the flower sample were clicking and humming. McCoy… was snoring.

Before he could stop it, a little smile tugged the corner of his mouth. Just as quickly, he berated himself for finding amusement in such a peculiar quirk of the human respiratory system; Vulcans did not snore. Besides, he had certainly delayed long enough, and there was much work to be done.

"Nurse Chapel, please keep me updated on any change in the Captain's biosigns. Also, monitor the level of the sedative toxin in Doctor McCoy's body, and inform Doctor M'Benga of McCoy's status. I shall be working from the computer station by the analyzer in the research lab."

"Yes, Commander," she said softly, as if speaking any more loudly would wake the sedated residents of sickbay.

Spock had already turned and had begun walking back towards the analyzer workstation when Nurse Chapel spoke again.

"Commander Spock?"

He looked back over his shoulder without turning his body, and raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

She looked a bit awkward, as though trying to select her words. "Commander… do you think you can really synthesize an antidote?"

"Of that, I am most certain."

"Can you do it in time?"

Spock frowned slightly and turned fully towards her. "Please elaborate. Do we have a time limit?"

"I looked up the nursing support requirements for this procedure." She hesitated. "After eighteen hours, the patient can begin to suffer irreversible heart damage."

"Then as usual, we seem to be 'cutting it close,' as Mr. Scott often says. I must begin work immediately." He started to turn again, but something in Nurse Chapel's expression seemed concerning. "Is there a further problem, Nurse?"

"I… I just need to know… because seeing him like this – seeing them both like this – it isn’t easy. I just need to know if this is hard on you, too. Do you care about them enough that it bothers you?

Spock glanced at McCoy, lying unconscious on the spare cot, and then finally forced himself to take a good look at the Captain. The view of Jim was quite… disturbing. He mentally steadied himself, then looked back at Nurse Chapel. "Yes, it is. And I do."

She gave a hint of a smile. "Then I know they'll be okay."

Spock watched as she hurried back to the Nurse's Station, wondering what she might have meant by that, then turned and went quickly to the analyzer station. For the next half hour, although his hands were occupied with entering data and manipulating computer models, and his mind was focused on the delicate nuances of experimental biochemistry, some small voice in the back of his mind kept playing the Nurse's question over and over again. Do you care about them…?

Only one answer came.

Of course I do.

Finally, he was distracted from his thoughts by the sickbay doors sliding open. He turned to see Sulu standing there, out of breath, but looking calmly determined. "Commander, I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

"Lieutenant, nobody has called you, so there was no reason to expect you to come."

"Yes, sir, there was. I just got the preliminary report about the away mission. You should have called me sooner. Haven't you seen my academy record?"

"You were noted for exceptional piloting skills, expertise in astrophysics, and – ah, I see."

"Xenobotany, sir," Sulu filled in. "Originally, I was supposed to be assigned to the Enterprise as a Science Officer. Botany is still a hobby of mine."

Spock let both of his eyebrows raise as he remembered. "That is correct. You took over at helm because McKenna was ill, and you were the best pilot on board after that. Better, I might add."

Sulu looked oddly guilty for a second. "Thank you. But that doesn't mean I've forgotten my other skills. I could help. And –" He grinned tentatively. "– I have some ideas."

Inside, Spock breathed a deep sigh of relief. Although he could certainly handle the initial stages of analysis and synthesis by himself, having a second person with a highly specialized set of skills would make the process much more efficient. Additionally, Spock did not wish to be alone at the moment. "I highly welcome your input, Mr. Sulu. Please join me," he said, gesturing to the chair next to his, "I shall brief you on our findings thus far."

The next two hours ticked by in a procession of chemical structures, reaction curves, plant physiology, and steady progress. M’Benga provided information on the progress of the autopsy, allowing Spock to refine the model of the toxin's interface reaction with the nerve endings. Twice, Nurse Chapel stopped by to give status reports on the Captain, McCoy, and Ross. Both times, there were no significant changes in any of them, aside from the gradual decrease in the sedative concentrations, as expected.

Lieutenant Sulu was a rational and intelligent research partner, which Spock found helpful in multiple ways. He also knew far more about xenobotany than Spock did, including a wealth of knowledge about poisonous and carnivorous plants, and Spock mused that his skills were somewhat wasted on the helm. He wasn’t as skilled of a biochemist, but at that moment, while the computer was still running molecular modelling programs, they had time to study the actual life form they’d found.

Spock was in the autopsy ward, scanning for metabolites of the paralytic toxin in Horvat's body when Sulu called him over.

“Commander, if you’ve got a minute, you might like to see this.”

When Spock got back to the research station, Sulu was holding out a datapad. "I've finished modelling the structure of those thorns down to the molecular level, and I recognize this." He poked a section of the diagram with his stylus. "You said that you and Doctor McCoy noticed that the fibers in these thorns looked more like muscle tissue. That's because you're right."

Spock took the datapad and enlarged the section of the diagram that Sulu had indicated. “I am not a physiologist, but I believe I would recognize muscle fiber when I saw it.”

Sulu nodded. “The structure isn’t myosin-based, like you suggested, but it’s similar.”

“This is not a common variety of life form,” Spoke mused aloud.

“Not at all, Commander.” He hesitated. “I know this information won’t help the Captain, but I think it may be important.”

“Please continue, Lieutenant. We have another forty-seven minutes before the computer models will be ready for the first synthesis trials.” If nothing else, the information was a powerful distraction from the Captain’s status, which made it far easier to maintain emotional control. Spock welcomed it.

“Okay, sir.” Sulu spun his chair around and pulled up some information modules. “This is a variety of plant life present on barely one percent of Class-M planets, where plants develop animal traits down to the biochemical level. Actually, I shouldn't even call them plants in the classic sense. The proteins and physiology are more animal in nature than botanical. Just because these organisms are sessile doesn't mean they're really plants. Some of these traits are passive, and present as reflexes and physical structure. Some of these traits are active, and can range from varying degrees of mobility to… sentience."

"Sentience, Lieutenant?"

"There's evidence in some cases, but there's never been any proof. When I was finishing at the Academy, one of the xenobotany labs was beginning a project on –"

The sound of groaning interrupted him.

"Spock," McCoy mumbled, then groaned. "You green-blooded bastard… urgh…"

“Nurse Chapel, Doctor McCoy has awakened,” Spock called out as he hurried over to McCoy. "Doctor, how are you feeling?" Spock put a hand on his back to steady him as he struggled to sit up.

"Ugh…" He leaned forward and covered his eyes with his hands. "Like two glasses of Andorian ale, but not so much fun. How long have I been – oh God, Jim! Is he –" McCoy's head snapped up, which only seemed to worsen his headache as he immediately put his head down into his hands again.

Nurse Chapel was there a second later with a tricorder. “Doctor McCoy, by all rights you should still be unconscious,” she chided, scanning him quickly. “I’ll get you a painkiller for that headache.”

“Do I look like I care about that right now?” he grumbled into his hands. "Spock, how's Jim?"

"He is still stable, Doctor."

"Are you sure?"

"Your query is redundant, Doctor, but understandable. Yes, I assure you that the Captain is in stable condition."

McCoy grunted in acknowledgement, rubbing his eyes and temples. "How long have I been asleep?"

"You have been unconscious for approximately two hours and thirty-eight minutes."

Spock suppressed a surge of pained sympathy as McCoy forced himself to look up, blinking and squinting.

"Why did you let me sleep that long, Spock? I need to start synthesizing the antidote. What the hell were you thinking?" He hissed in irritation as Nurse Chapel pressed a hypospray to his neck.

“You’ll thank me for it later,” she said flatly.

McCoy blinked a few times, and the tense lines of pain seemed to fade from his face. “Thank you, okay? Please check on Jim and give me an update.”

She gave him a scathing look, then crossed the room and began taking a set of vitals on the Captain. McCoy turned his attention back to Spock.

“You'd better give me a damn good reason why I was taking a nap when I should have been working on an antidote for Jim.”

"I have already begun the analysis process, Doctor, which is proceeding on schedule. There is nothing more you could have done in the interim. We will be able to begin the synthesis stage shortly. Also, you should note that the sedative was not metabolizing from your system while you were awake, and to awaken you artificially would only delay your recovery." He held out a datapad containing the tricorder readings he'd compiled from McCoy's biosigns. McCoy stared at it. "If we had awakened you, not only would the toxin continue to wreak havoc on your ability to concentrate, but the adrenaline and epinephrine required to override the sedative would put an unnecessary strain on your heart. In order for you to function efficiently, you required sleep, so I –"

"What is this?" McCoy grabbed the datapad.

An old human proverb about hands and cookie jars came to mind. If Spock had human emotions, he suspected his cheeks would be burning with guilt. Instead, he simply looked up at the far wall, folded his hands behind his back, and said, "What is what, Doctor?"

"This. My brainwaves… the sleep pattern here. What is this?" He pulled up a graphic readout of his sleep cycle and jabbed his finger at the screen… directly on the sudden change caused by Spock's emotional assistance.

Spock looked down, pretending that he was just noticing the anomalous readings. "Ah, that." He was grateful that he had never acquired the human habit of fidgeting. "Your biosigns indicated that you were not entering deep enough sleep to recover from the toxin, so I assisted in calming your emotions so that you were able to sleep properly."

"You did WHAT? What do you think you were doing, going into my head like that? That's an invasion of privacy, and completely inappropriate! It's a violation of the medical code of conduct! If you were a doctor, you would be –"

"I am a scientist, not a doctor." He allowed one corner of his mouth to turn upwards.

McCoy continued to glare at him for a moment, but then his shoulders dropped. "Maybe you'd make a good one," he said under his breath. "Thank you."

Spock inclined his head just slightly. "You are quite welcome, doctor. It was a logical course of action."

"You and your pointy logic," he mumbled, spinning his legs around and sliding off the cot, then startled as he realized that they weren’t alone. "Sulu, what are you doing here?"

Sulu spun his chair towards them and gave a subdued smile. "Good to see you, too, Doctor. I’ve been trying to analyze the plant you've been playing with."

"Great," McCoy said with a melodramatic groan as he walked stiffly over to the analyzer station. "We've got a Vulcan trying to feign a bedside manner and helmsman playing a botanist. Let me know when they put Uhura in Engineering and stick Scotty in the miniskirt."

"I wouldn't want to be on the bridge when they try that," Sulu said drily.

"Nor would I," Spock said.

McCoy looked at him incredulously. "Why Spock! Is that a blossoming sense of human aesthetics?"

"Not at all, Doctor. However, Uhura does not have the necessary skills to handle the ship's engines, and Mr. Scott is monolingual and has possibly suffered hearing damage from working near engines for so many years. The inherent dangers of that staffing arrangement in any sort of crisis would be –"

"Forget it, Spock. Maybe someday you'll learn an appreciation for the finer things in life." McCoy sighed and looked down at Sulu's computer readout. "What are you finding? What's this plant got?"

"Actually, Doctor, it's not a plant."

McCoy grumbled. "Does it want to wear the miniskirt now?"

Spock blinked and frowned. Sometimes, he was glad that he didn't always understand humans.

He listened as Sulu explained their analysis of the flower sample, plus some of the other samples Horvat had collected, and distinct animal characteristics found in all of them. As Sulu talked, Spock kept glancing sideways at McCoy. He wasn't sure what he was watching for – perhaps the development of further symptoms and side-effects of the toxin. Whatever the reason, he kept taking quick looks.

When Sulu began talking about the evolution of venoms in such plants, however, Spock became engrossed in the scientific discussion, comparing sections of DNA from a sumac plant on Earth to the nucleotide sequence from the Cassia VI sample.

Spock finally noticed that McCoy hadn't said a word in a couple of minutes, and he turned to see the Doctor standing with his back to the analyzer station, staring through the laboratory door at the Captain.

"Doctor McCoy?" Spock said softly.

Sulu stopped speaking and turned around.

"Doctor McCoy?" Spock repeated, more forcefully this time.

"I heard you the first time, Spock," he said without blinking or looking away from the Captain.

Before Spock could speak again, Sulu stood. "I think I ought to bring some of these samples back to the science labs. The medical equipment here isn't designed for this work. Besides, I can’t do anything else to help here." He quickly gathered a few sample containers onto a tray and tucked a datapad under his arm, then stood close to Spock. He spared a second's glance at McCoy, then said in a confidential tone, "I'll contact you if I find anything new, Commander."

Spock nodded to him. "Likewise, Mr. Sulu." A moment later, the door of sickbay slid shut behind Lieutenant Sulu, and Spock turned his attention back to McCoy.

McCoy was walking slowly across the floor towards Kirk, looking dazed. He stopped about three feet from the table, as if there was a force field in place keeping him away. Spock stepped up behind him, stopping just behind McCoy's right shoulder.

"Doctor, are you –"

"No, Spock, I'm not," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Not okay."

"You have performed most admirably under extreme duress, and it is because of your skill that the Captain is still alive."

McCoy snorted, then coughed. "You call that alive?" he hissed. "Good God, Spock! Look at him. This is Jim! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Indeed it does. He is my Captain, and a trusted leader. His presence on the Enterprise is vital to the good order and morale of the crew, and –"

“He’s your friend, Spock! ‘Captain’ and ‘leader’ are good enough for anyone else, but not for Jim. Damn it, not for Jim.” He sounded tired and hurt, as though he was trying to take on the burden of both doctor and family for Kirk, which was more than most humans could handle. Here, in sickbay, where a doctor should be most comfortable in his own territory, McCoy looked as though he was ready to jump out of his skin.

“Indeed, Doctor."

"I want… I have to do more for him. He's just… lying there, alone. This isn't what Jim deserves."

"At the moment, Doctor, he deserves our best efforts towards synthesizing an antidote.”

“He deserved to know that… that he wasn’t alone. That someone cared.” Finally, as if breaking that invisible force field, McCoy reached out and touched Kirk’s hand, lightly clasping his shaking fingers around Kirk’s still ones. “I never let him know.”

Spock frowned. This was a most unusual tirade from Doctor McCoy. “Doctor, the Captain is thoroughly sedated and can't be aware of any emotional efforts you might make. This will not help him.”

McCoy spun around to face Spock, eyes blazing with a sort of anger Spock had never seen in him before. "You God damned computerized excuse for a humanoid! What does it take for a cold-blooded machine like you to care? You Vulcans substitute logic for everything that makes this damn life worth living! Have you ever cried in your life? Have you ever loved?"

Spock was finding the air in sickbay to be unusually heavy, and his collar suddenly tight. "You are well aware that I have –"

"NO! Not good enough! I don't care that you've been bedding Uhura as if none of us have noticed. Hormone-driven animals can do the same." He stepped up nose-to-chin with Spock, who could not avoid being held by the fury in McCoy's glare. "You don't know what love is until you'd give anything to take away someone else's suffering… until you know what you'd give your own life to save."

"If that is the definition, Doctor," he whispered, "I must love both you and Jim."

McCoy looked as though he'd been kicked in the gut, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, and Spock felt strangely satisfied by that look.

"Spock…"

"I must go to my laboratory and retrieve several isomers to begin assembling the first antidote trials. Currently, that is what it will take to save the Captain." He spun on his heel and walked swiftly to the door, which slid open in front of him, but he stopped short. Without turning around, he said, "But if my death would save Jim, I would offer that instead."

The only sound from the room behind him was the sound of bioscanners beeping softly.

Spock squared his shoulders and exited sickbay. The doors slid shut behind him.


*********


There were no actual changes in the corridors of the Enterprise, but Spock noted that the atmosphere was unusually solemn. Crew members passed each other without making eye contact. There was none of the typical chatter and conversation creating a soft murmur against the beeping and chirping of the ship's circuitry. It felt like a wake.

It was unsurprising; the report of the Captain's status had been released to all section leaders, who had then briefed their people. It seemed that the whole ship was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen. While holding one's breath was a pointless act, Spock could rationalize the metaphorical implication.

The door to the lab slid open in front of him, only to reveal Lieutenant Uhura pacing across the room. She stopped and stared at him, her face drawn and eyes tense.

Surprised but unfazed, Spock walked past her into the room and began pulling open storage cabinets and selecting vials of the isomers he expected to need. "Nyota, I do not have time at the moment for personal discussions, but once we have formulated an antidote for the Captain, I will make time to –"

"Commander, I'm not here for a chat," she said flatly. The stark professionalism in her voice and the fact that she had addressed him by rank clashed with red eyes and strained lines, but made it immediately clear that she was there on business.

Spock spun back towards her. "What have you discovered, Lieutenant?"

She held out a datapad. Spock set the chemical vials on a bench top, took the datapad, and began to study it as Uhura spoke.

"When we arrived in orbit, I started mapping subspace frequencies in this region like usual. That's when I found this." She toggled a couple of buttons, highlighting one frequency.

Spock cocked his head. "I do not see a pattern."

She shook her head. "Neither did I, but it's on a frequency not typically used by the Federation or any other known spacefaring races. At first, I thought it was some sort of background radiation from a nearby nebula or a planet in the system with unusual electromagnetic patterns, but there was nothing. So… I narrowed my search pattern and got a source."

"It was coming from the surface," Spock said, both surprised and not.

"Yes, Commander." She hesitated. "From everywhere on the surface."

Spock nodded, not taking his eyes from the datapad. "That is most unusual. Also, there appears to be no defined pattern in this transmission."

"But there is. Look." She reached over and adjusted the analysis pattern and narrowed in on one small subset of the signal. "I realized that these were multiple signals overlapping each other, so I isolated one of them – which took the better part of two hours – and ran it against various computer models, including logarithms, algorithms, and fractal patterns."

"And what did you find?"

"Nothing."

Spock frowned.

"Until I ran it against the universal translator."

Spock's eyebrow shot up. "What did that analysis reveal?"

"Most of if didn't make sense to the computer, but certain linguistic concepts came through loud and clear." She pressed another button on the datapad.

Spock quickly read through the words that kept appearing in the translation, first raising both eyebrows, then furrowing them together. "Invaders… defend… prey… hunt … kill."

"There's something on that planet that doesn't want us here," she said, her voice icy.

"Indeed." Spock looked up at her as he handed back the datapad. "Have you spoken of this to anyone?"

"Not yet, sir. I wanted to know what you thought."

Normally, this sort of find would go to the Captain first, but then he remembered that he was acting Captain until further notice. He signalled his approval with a tilt of his head. "The crew has enough tension at the moment. Keep monitoring this frequency. Attempt to translate more of it, if possible, and keep me informed about any new information. Inform Mr. Scott only if the situation becomes dangerous. Whatever is sending this signal, it may have already claimed its first victim from our crew." He grabbed the vials of chemicals off the lab bench and held them up. "I must return to sickbay to prevent it from claiming another."

"I understand, Commander."

He was halfway to the door when Uhura's voice, uncertain and timid this time, stopped him.

"Spock?" This was Nyota, not Lieutenant Uhura. "Is the Captain going to be okay?"

Spock looked over his shoulder to see the fear in her eyes, a fear that had been echoing down the silent corridors and hanging over everyone's heads. "Doctor McCoy and I are doing everything in our power to ensure that he will be."

She nodded to show her understanding, but it was clear that she would desire his companionship and support later. He hesitated, then crossed the room in a rush, kissed her, and without another word, hurried out of the lab.

You never know if it might be your last chance to let them know.



*********


(Part 3)