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Chapel rapped her nails along the metal frame of the bed. It was a nervous habit of hers, proof that she was concerned about him, but McCoy knew there was nothing on the screens to justify her worrying. He was lying down and couldn’t see the screen himself, but he knew damn well all the readings were in the green. He’d already checked himself out with the tricorder. So had Spock. The Vians might’ve done a number on him but they’d undone it again in a snap, so quick and easy that the whole thing might as well have been a bad dream.
So the current act playing out in his sickbay wasn’t the slightest bit necessary.
“I’m fine,” he said, not for the first time. He took Chapel’s hand, interrupting her nervous tapping and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Right as rain. Come on, Christine. If you don’t believe me then believe the computers.”
Chapel didn’t say anything, just frowned at him, and McCoy sighed and tried to sit up. Unfortunately, Spock was hovering on the other side of the bed, and the second McCoy tried to rise Spock put a palm on his chest and gently but quite firmly pushed him back down.
“That remains to be seen,” said Spock. “Stay still.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” said McCoy, and then he turned to Chapel. “Go ahead and tell him. Like he can’t see the readings himself.”
Chapel hadn’t let go of his hand, and her mouth was pressed into a thin line as she looked back at his vitals. Kirk and Spock must have gone over what happened on the planet with in her in more detail than he would’ve liked. Now she was upset for no reason.
“Your heart rate’s a little high,” she finally said. “Blood pressure’s a little high, too.”
“Well, that’s not exactly unusual, is it? But I’ll skip the nightcap tonight if it makes you feel better.”
Chapel didn’t look particularly charmed by that, but she shrugged. “He’s right,” she said to Spock. “He doesn’t seem any worse for wear.”
Spock didn’t move his hand. “I’d still like to run a few more scans, just to see if we can register any signs of the Vians’ interference.”
“Hold on a minute now, Spock, you let Jim get back to the bridge without so much as a by your leave,” he said, well aware that his tone was getting a bit petulant. “What makes me any different?”
“Captain Kirk’s-“ he said, and then there was a long pause as he searched for the right phrasing, “-exposure wasn’t as long or as intense as yours. And, it should be noted, you have a history of hiding illness.”
“That is not true,” McCoy scoffed. And then, realizing that Spock was getting ready to rattle off a long list of examples to the contrary, he added, “I’m no worse about it Jim. Or you, for that matter. I suspect you’re still sore I knocked you out.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Spock, rather pointedly, and McCoy let that point drop. Better for him that that somewhat unethical assault on a superior officer be forgotten.
“Well, at any rate, the Captain said he wanted to see us on the bridge once we were done here. If you keep me much longer he’s going to start worrying.”
Spock looked at him for moment, his face unreadable, seemingly weighing it over, and then he removed his hand from McCoy’s chest. He was, bless him, always a little more susceptible to a light piece of emotional blackmail than a Vulcan ought to be.
“Very well,” said Spock as McCoy sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
He took McCoy’s arm to help him stand up. It wasn’t necessary but McCoy let him do it anyway. Spock led the way through the corridors and McCoy lagged behind him, listening to the dull chatter of the crewman around him, his gaze catching on the bright colors of the uniforms and the clean, bright walls around them. Not the same as being on the surface of a planet, sure, but the place was a lot more homey than those caves they’d been stuck in.
“Doctor?” said Spock, knocking McCoy out of his aimless reverie. He realized he’d fallen quite a ways behind.
Not the best thing to do when someone was already worried about your mental state. “Sorry, my mind was wandering.”“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” asked Spock, looking very intently at him as McCoy caught up to him.
“I am,” said McCoy. He walked past Spock to the turbolift. He heard Spock step behind him as they waited. “I was just thinking how normal everything seems. How real. Everything that happened down on the planet… Well, it all feels insubstantial now, in comparison.”
“It was real,” said Spock. “You were really dying.”
McCoy exhaled sharply. “Well, it’s not the first time I’ve nearly died out here and I doubt it’ll be the last. Better me than you, at any rate.”
It wasn’t the right thing to say, of course. Spock took hold of his shoulder and pulled McCoy back around to face him. “Doctor,” he said, and McCoy could hear the clear reproach in his tone, “that-“
He was interrupted by the arrival of the turbolift and the handful of chattering ensigns who spilled out of it.
They let the crew pass with polite nods. Once they were in the lift, alone, with the doors safely shut, Spock started up again. But McCoy interrupted him. “I know what you’re going to say, but I stand by what I did. You never would’ve volunteered me in your place. And where would the Enterprise be without that brain of yours? You’re one of a kind, after all.”
He tried to make a joke of it, but his voice went a little saccharine at the end. Too much sincerity. He must be getting soft in his old age.
“I don’t value my life above yours,” said Spock, his dark eyes boring into McCoy. “And you shouldn’t either.”
“Well,” said McCoy, looking away. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Far too much sincerity going around the turbolift at the moment.
He remembered Spock holding onto him after they’d pulled him free, when he thought he was going to die. How gentle he’d been. Honest, but as kind as honesty would allow under the circumstances.
He could remember the pain, too, but the memory of it didn’t affect him much at all, even though he knew it probably should. The Vians had been very thorough in their healing. Poor Gem probably couldn’t have managed it on her own, but the Vians could and as far as he could tell they’d gone beyond the physical and made sure his mind was in tip-top shape as well. The psychological damage that should have come along with everything else just wasn’t there. Still, he understood why Spock was worried. By all rights he ought to be a real mess at the moment.
Everything around it, though, he remembered clear as day. Like Spock’s hands along his face, calm and soothing.
McCoy cleared his throat and tried again. “Well, if it makes you feel any better my motives were actually entirely selfish,” he said.
“Is that so?”
McCoy nodded. “I didn’t want to watch you agonize over having to make a decision. And it all worked out for the best in the end, didn’t it? To be perfectly honest, I think Gem liked me better than you anyway. She might not have risked it for you.”
That got a raised eyebrow out of Spock. “Really.”
McCoy nodded. He was starting to feel a bit more on even footing now. “Now, don’t get me wrong, it’s just that you can take a little getting used to. Not everyone can have a personality as warm and inviting as my own.”
The doors to the lift opened onto the bridge, bustling and full of familiar faces and sights and sounds, and Minara II felt a million light years away.
“It’s certainly difficult to argue with that logic,” said Spock, dryly.
The rhythm of that had snapped back into place, too, and Kirk was smiling when he turned around to see them. All things considered, the day could have turned out much worse. Instead they were all alive, and all in good spirits. What more could he ask for?