Disease and danger, a study of contagion (Star Trek TOS) - complete

[Jelloicious]

27 minutes ago, Aliena H. said:

I really hope this isn't too "psychological"

Not by a long shot! Your story is as readable at trekfic as it is fetish fic.  My favorite kind!  Your work with these characters is extraordinary!.

29 minutes ago, Aliena H. said:

It had moved her deeply.

LOVE this!!!

30 minutes ago, Aliena H. said:

Spock and Uhura, in tacit agreement, had let him sleep.

Awwwww......

Love the interplay between the characters as they recognize and empathize with one another.  Star Trek is always at its best when you see this relationship.  This is just such a richly woven backdrop for a sneeze fic!  Thank you for the effort you put into creating the setting for your delicious torture!

[AngelEyes]

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

I really hope this isn't too "psychological" (I know that almost all the fics I write start like a sickfic and end with lots of psychological considerations and analysis...).

I like this about your stories, it keeps them interesting.

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Spock had the brilliant idea to call for help Amani, the lifeform we met who is almost entirely constituted of energy.

Ooooh! Clever!

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

It had moved her deeply. It was rare for the first officer to offer that kind of praise in his own language.

Awww.

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Who, aboard this ship, could believe that the first officer was insensitive and didn’t take into account the human needs of his coworkers?

Right! Totally!

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Then the charm had worked, and now those two were almost inseparable, a pair of commanding officers and friends that functioned with a scary efficiency. As for knowing if another link existed, beyond friendship, between them…

Mmmm...

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

The amount of energy the humans needed to make Gault’s machines work for the next ten years was ridiculously small for him. However, a receptacle would be needed to stock said energy.

Brilliant!

[AngelEyes]

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

I really hope this isn't too "psychological" (I know that almost all the fics I write start like a sickfic and end with lots of psychological considerations and analysis...).

I like this about your stories, it keeps them interesting.

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Spock had the brilliant idea to call for help Amani, the lifeform we met who is almost entirely constituted of energy.

Ooooh! Clever!

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

It had moved her deeply. It was rare for the first officer to offer that kind of praise in his own language.

Awww.

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Who, aboard this ship, could believe that the first officer was insensitive and didn’t take into account the human needs of his coworkers?

Right! Totally!

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

Then the charm had worked, and now those two were almost inseparable, a pair of commanding officers and friends that functioned with a scary efficiency. As for knowing if another link existed, beyond friendship, between them…

Mmmm...

 

On 10/25/2018 at 1:41 PM, Aliena H. said:

The amount of energy the humans needed to make Gault’s machines work for the next ten years was ridiculously small for him. However, a receptacle would be needed to stock said energy.

Brilliant!

[Shamaël]

@Jelloicious and @AngelEyes: thank you and all my apologies for being so late with that fic!!! I have the impression that I'll never finish it although ther's only 3 parts left... Anyway, thank you for your very sweet comments and your patience.

My headcanon is that when McCoy is sick, his fever spikes up and he becomes easily delirious. I've written a drabble about that a long time ago and I wanted a little bit of H/C, so... voilà. 

 

Day 7 – 2:00

Chief medical officer’s log, stardate 4163,10

I’m not sure that recording a report of that crappy day is a good idehhh EhHHSSShoo! Damnit! – a good idea. I’d rather go to bed. Anyway, that stupid virus is wreaking havoc on that bloody ship and there’s nothing more to say.

The chirp of the communicator on Spock’s desk pulled him out of his miserable attempt at meditating and he rose to grab the device. It was possible that the captain had met with a communication problem with their new ally. The first officer also feared that his last calculations, which he had executed with aggravating slowness (never again would he underestimate the potential nuisance of a simple rhinovirus and its impact on his teams’ efficiency), would be wrong. Considering the state of his neurons, it was not entirely impossible. Humiliating, but not impossible. The ground slightly rocked under his feet and he had to lean on the table to regain the stability that was necessary to open his communicator (a simple operation by anyone’s estimation).

“Spock here.”

“Tell me, hobgoblin, is the deafening noise I can hear coming from your room?”

The Vulcan sighed. He did not expect to receive in the middle of the night a call from doctor McCoy, when the man should have been deeply asleep. And he certainly did not wish to talk to him right now.

“To what noise are you referring, doctor?” he asked, trying hard to keep his breathing under control.

“Spock, maybe you don’t realize it, but I’m sure your sneezing would wake up the dead. And here I thought Vulcans were discrete people… »

Despite all the control he had upon himself, Spock felt his cheeks burning. Not only had he been granted the dubious human capacity to expel the particles that obstructed his nasal passages, but he had also inherited particularly violent and tremendous sneezes he couldn’t lessen if his life depended on it. The idea that the chief medical officer, whose quarters were close to his, had heard the last seven sternutations he had failed to muffle was intolerable. Vulcans were indeed discrete people, and they did not like to attract attention upon them.

Speaking of sneezing…

“Ahh’hhASSCHHH’uh !”

Despite desperate efforts to repress it, a new sneeze burst out, ringing in his communicator although he had carefully moved it away from his face. When he straightened up, probably greener than usual and his eyes full of tears, McCoy’s voice had completely changed. His intonation was very serious, almost gloomy.

“I’m sorry, Spock, I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean to tease you on this. Wait, I’m coming to examine you.”

The first officer repressed a curse (yes, his human side was decidedly taking control over his personality, which was most unpleasant). If there was something he desired even less than the chief medical officer’s call, it was the doctor’s visit.

“Doctor”, he answered hastily, sniffling wetly, “it will not be necessary. You have already examined me this afternoon and you did not find anything abnormal in my… ATSCHSSH’hhaah!”

A ninth sneeze, even more violent than the previous ones, prevented him from completing his argument.

“Bless you. I’d be reassured if I could see you right now, Spock. This virus is really nasty and it still can mutate. Maybe it’s already done. Maybe it’s more serious than we first thought. Maybe…”

Spock allowed himself to press three fingers on his head, just above his right eyebrow, as if he could, by this weary gesture, chase away the headache that had comfortably settled inside his skull hours ago. He knew doctor McCoy, and he had already witnessed what happened during cold epidemics aboard the ship: he overworked, neglected his own health to take care of others, and finally he crashed down, in every sense of the word.

“You do not have to come, doctor, I am coming into your quarters right now.”

He closed the communicator, took twenty seconds to blow his nose and drink a glass of water, and left his room. He decided that politeness was not necessary, since the chief medical officer was probably delirious, so he dialed his emergency code and entered the quarters without asking. Doctor McCoy was standing in the middle of the room, into the half-darkness. He was wearing a black t-shirt and pajama trousers. He frowned when the Vulcan appeared in front of him.

“…Spock?” he asked, uncertain. “Did I… Did I call you ? »

Spock nodded, wondering what he should do now. It was obvious that the physician was not in his normal state. The red splotch on his cheeks, the sweaty hair, the constant shivering of his body indicated that the temperature was already pretty high.

“I… wanted to examine you”, he added in a husky voice.

“It will not be necessary, doctor. I am fine.” Spock’s mind wisely chose not to think too much about the obvious lie. Clearly, he was feeling much better than the man in front of him. “Go back to bed and try to rest. You need it.”

He hoped it would be enough, but McCoy only stared at him with a feverish intensity and did not move. The Vulcan took a step toward him and carefully put a hand on his shoulder. The heat that radiated from his body was all the more preoccupying since the physician was now trembling from head to toes. Spock gently but firmly guided him to his bed, where McCoy fortunately lay down without protest, his teeth chattering. He hesitated: should he go now? What was a… friend supposed to do in this circumstance?

“How… How are you, doctor?” he asked awkwardly. “Can I do anything for you?”

The chief medical officer continued to stare at the Vulcan, who was starting to feel a bit ill-at-ease. It was almost as if McCoy was trying to solve the greatest mystery of the universe in Spock’s eyes (which was unlikely).

“I’ve already lived that moment”, he finally said, coughing in the crook of his arm. “One night, you came in my room. I was sick and I couldn’t sleep. You came and you put me to sleep with your Vulcan voodoo. I remember you massaged my hands.”

Doctor McCoy did not seem embarrassed at all, but Spock could feel his own ears prickling with heat, and he fervently hoped he was not becoming too green. He was sure that the physician had no memory of the incident, because he was too sick and delirious to remember it, and because he had never spoken of it afterwards (which was definitely a good thing). The first officer was not ready to admit that he had indeed spent hours holding the physician’s hand (because Vulcans don’t do such things, even for the persons who are the closest to them), but how could he deny the truth?

“To apply some pressure on precise points of the hands and feet can procure rest and sleep”, he answered non-committally.

A violent coughing fit shook McCoy’s shoulders, and Spock, without thinking, sat on the bed to support him and help him breathing more easily.

“I’m sorry, you know that, don’t you?” McCoy asked, his voice low and raspy.

Spock frowned, surprised (and maybe a bit relieved) by the new topic.

“For what reason should you be sorry, doctor?”

“For everything I told you when we were on that damned Roman planet. Hell, I let Jim tell Flavius he wasn’t sure if we were friends or enemies. We… We’re friends, Spock, aren’t we?”

The anxiety in the doctor’s voice hit Spock in the stomach, and he decided to put away the strange emotion he was feeling right now. He could examine it later, when he would be in better state himself. He did not want to have this conversation right now, when McCoy was ill and feverish. Leave the room seemed the best option, since it was obvious the chief medical officer was borderline delirious.

“You should try to sleep”, he answered, standing up, but McCoy reached out and imprisoned the Vulcan’s wrist in his fingers.

“You are my friend”, he insisted, with the obstinacy and stubbornness the fever was giving him.

It would be simpler to tell the truth, Spock thought, and to answer “You are my friend too” – but it was something he had never managed to say, even to Jim, except when he had been under the influence of the Psi-2000 virus, or when he was in the throes of pon farr. His mouth opened, but no sound came from his vocal chords. The doctor’s look was almost pleading, and through the burning hand that was trembling on his wrist, Spock could feel the emotions he was feeling. So many fear, hesitation and uncertainty – and, behind, an unconditional affection the Vulcan thought was reserved for Jim and for Jim only. The idea that, maybe, McCoy could extend this affection to him struck him.

“You are my friend”, the physician repeated more gently.

Spock shook his head, still unable to answer, and softly got himself free from Leonard’s hold before tracing soothing circles on his palm, as he had done months ago in similar circumstances. McCoy smiled.

“You have to admit I was right. You don’t know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling.”

Spock swallowed hard. Of course, McCoy was right. This kind of situation embarrassed him beyond expression, and yet… and yet he could not help but feeling a diffuse sensation, that washed over his mind like a balm. Was that affection, or friendship, or brotherhood? He did not know, and would not solve this question tonight. To accept it was a first step.

A big step.

“HuhHHISSHoo! Snrfl – Don’t worry, Spock, you’re not the only one. I’m not very good with feelings myself. If I didn’t have a raging fever right now, I wouldn’t be able to tell you this. We both hide behind a mask, me and you. But I know that if you really felt nothing like you pretend, you’d not be here tonight. Am I wrong?”

Spock felt a lump in his throat. He thought he would never be able to answer anything, but the words came spontaneously:

“You are not, Leonard.”

Fever was a very convenient excuse after all.

[AngelEyes]

Yay! More story!

2 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“HuhHHISSHoo! Snrfl – Don’t worry, Spock, you’re not the only one. I’m not very good with feelings myself. If I didn’t have a raging fever right now, I wouldn’t be able to tell you this. We both hide behind a mask, me and you. But I know that if you really felt nothing like you pretend, you’d not be here tonight. Am I wrong?”

Spock felt a lump in his throat. He thought he would never be able to answer anything, but the words came spontaneously:

“You are not, Leonard.”

Fever was a very convenient excuse after all.

Awwww! So perfect!

[Jelloicious]

Oh my goodness...there's something in my eye...

That was quite touching!!  

 

(And YAY!  More story!!!)

 

[Shamaël]

@Jelloicious and @AngelEyes: as usual, thank you so much for your encouragement! You don't know what it means to me.

 

Day 7 – 14:30

First officer’s log, stardate 4163,88

The trip back to Gault to help them with their energy problem is going well. Nothing to report.

 

“Bridge”, James Kirk ordered as he stepped in the Enterprise turbolift.

For one moment, he thought the computer had not understood what he had just said because of the congestion in his voice (it had happened the day before: apparently, the words “deck dubber dide”, immediately followed by a harsh sneeze, weren’t clear enough, and it had been necessary to low his nose three times before being able to articulate his sentence distinctly enough for the computer to grant him with a response), but the door closed behind him.

He had not slept much and only had fallen into sleep around 9:30, but the idea that they had found a way to solve the crisis that paralysed his ship without getting Starfleet involved filled him with an enthusiasm that made him forgot the most unpleasant symptoms of his cold. He wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a great crew. Spock, for starters, was not only a perfect first officer and an outstanding scientist, but also the most loyal and faithful friend in the universe. He owned him the solution and absolute discretion about it. A Vulcan should never had been able to even consider not reporting immediately to their superiors what Fargun had done and the way he had threatened them, and yet, the logs had been… let’s say expurgated by the first officer. The epidemic had been registered as a banal case of the common cold, and their trip back to Gault as a desire to help the colonists thanks to Mr. Scott’s brilliant idea of an energy container. Jim wasn’t certain either that he deserved the trust and loyalty of said chief engineer, who was currently building a repository for Amani’s energy, of lieutenant Uhura, who had remained awake all night without the slightest complaint, and of McCoy, whose integrity and care for the well-being of the crew was not to prove.

Anyway, Jim was the luckiest man in the world. His crew cared for him as much, and maybe even more as he cared for them – and apparently they also cared for one another. The captain had slipped into Bones’ quarters around 6 in the morning, to be sure that his friend was all right and wasn’t caught in the throes of feverish delirium, as it had happened to him way too many times. He had found his first officer deeply asleep on the chief medical officer’s bed, and Leonard gently snoring into the bed. It was obvious that Spock had come to check on the physician, that he had found him feverish and suffering, and that he had used what McCoy called “his Vulcan voodoo”. Then, probably too tired to remain awake any longer, he had fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position, half curled up on his right side, his head against the doctor’s arm, the hand squeezing their friend’s wrist. Jim had shaken his head with a smile, closed the door, and gone back to his quarters without waking them up.

The lift stopped and he stepped on the bridge. Only four officers were at their station: Uhura, who seemed to be talking with Amani through light impulses; Spock, at the pilot station (he had probably refused to wake up Chekov and Sulu); Scotty, at the Engineering station, messing with God only knew what; and McCoy, who had taken the Vulcan’s seat at the science panel.

“How are you, captain?” Uhura asked with a bright smile.

“I’m perfectly fine, lieutenant, thank you. Spock”, Kirk said, sitting on the captain’s chair, which was exceptionally empty, “I thought I had ordered you to sleep or at least meditate until we arrive on Gault.”

Spock seemed to have regained some color, and his posture was stiffer than ever since the beginning of the epidemic. In a very predictable way, he answered:

“Captain, I am very well rested and I did not see the point in remaining into my quarters when I am not able to meditate properly.”

He had barely finished his story when McCoy spun on his heels.

“Why is that, Spock?” he asked, looking suspiciously at the Vulcan.

Spock’s hands froze for a moment above the pilot controls, before he resumed his manipulations. Only the captain realized that brief hesitation, or maybe embarrassment. Then the first officer swiftly twisted his head to the side to sneeze three times. Kirk felt stupidly happy that his Vulcan friend was feeling confident enough on the bridge to let this kind of ‘weakness’ show in front of the main officers.

“Hah-hahhhTSHH’SHUH! HehhTSCHAAahh! HahhAHTCH’AHhh!”

“Bless you”, McCoy mumbled, echoing the others. “Well, meditation?”

“I thought that my frequent sternutations would constitute a sufficient answer”, Spock said calmly, surprising everyone by the confession of his indisposition. “It is very difficult for me to concentrate in these circumstances.”

“You sure it’s the only reason?” Bones insisted, but his voice was uncertain, and the slight tension in it showed clearly, at least for those who knew him well, that the problem was at least as personal as professional.

Jim bite his lower lip. He didn’t know what had happened exactly between his two best friends when they had been imprisoned into Merikus’ jail, but he had noticed a certain tension between them since their last mission. Their usual sarcasms had been replaced by a strange polite defiance, much colder and less personal than the bicker and arguments that frequently exploded when they started talking about almost anything. McCoy had confessed to Jim that he had said things he didn’t mean  and didn’t know how to come back to normal with Spock now. Jim wondered if they had spoken during the night. Sometimes, he felt brief sparkles of… jealousy wasn’t the exact term. It was more an intense curiosity toward the strange relationship his first officer and CMO had together. It was obvious that they were bonded by a strong friendship that had slowly but surely grown as the years went by, but it remained mysterious in the eyes of James Kirk. The captain easily made friends and had no difficulty confessing his feelings to his friends. But Bones and Spock, more similar than they thought and would ever admit, expressed their affection through a mask – different, but a mask nonetheless. Between them, friendship meant hurtful remarks, feigned indifference – and, when a crisis did occur, a concern and worry they were quick to deny as soon as the danger was off.

“I am absolutely certain, doctor”, Spock answered with unusual gentleness, looking at McCoy’s eyes.

The physician didn’t look away until his brow furrowed and he pitched forward with a wet sneeze.

“HehISSHUU! Snrfl – Well, you must be right. How could I ever imagine that the slightest emotion had disturbed your perfect Vulcan control, Mister Spock?”

“You are correct, doctor. This supposition was erroneous. Nevertheless, it does not surprise me as it comes from the most sentimental man I know.”

Uhura muffled a small laugh into his hand, while Scotty smiled and rolled his eyes. Except the sniffling and poorly muffled sneezing that troubled the silence of the bridge from time to time, everything seemed back as usual.

“The most important thing is that you managed to rest, Spock”, the captain maliciously added with a mischievous look. “There’s nothing like one’s familiar quarters when we’re sick and tired, isn’t it?”

The chief medical officer didn’t react, but Spock turned towards Jim and send him a warning look that meant more or less ‘if you continue to intrude into my private life and make stupid comments about where I have spent the night, I will not hesitate in administering you a Vulcan nerve pinch that will teach you how not to interfere in what is absolutely not your business.’ Kirk smiled and nodded almost imperceptibly: message received and understood. McCoy was too sick to remember that the Vulcan had taken care of him and fallen asleep in his room. And of course, Spock wasn’t going to tell him.

“Scotty, did you find a way to stock Amani’s energy?”

“Yes, sir, everything’s ready. We just have to plug my little system on their machines on Gault and everything will be all right. They’ll have as much energy as they need for at least ten years.”

“Thank you, Mister Scott. Uhura, any news from our ally?”

“Yes, captain, he is approaching Gault as we speak, and he will wait for us there.”

Kirk’s smile widened. His crew was perfect.

“Thank you lieutenant. Bones, are you still - Haahh’GSCHHHuh!... still angry with Fargun?”

The physician shrugged, but his lips were pressed together in a very thin line and his knuckles were white. Obviously, the word anger didn’t even begin to cover what he was feeling.

“I think it’s better if I stay on the ship while you go and talk to that biological terrorist. If I come, things may not go smoothhheh’ITSCHhh! Hh’ETCHHuh!... smoothly.”

Jim wondered, not without amusement, how Bones was able to convey so much animosity in a simple reflex.

Some minutes passed in a welcome and calm silence, when the Vulcan spoke again:

“Captain, I have a suggestion.”

“I’m all ears.”

“When we arrive on Gault, we will have to come to an arrangement with the governor so that he sends to Starfleet a report that… matches our own version.”

McCoy crossed his arms on his chest, falsely shocked:

“What? Spock, do you mean that you have tampered with the Enterprise’s logs?”

“I do not believe I said anything of the kind, doctor”, the first officer answered haughtily.

Bones pretended he didn’t hear anything:

“I thought that kind of lies (he emphasized the word with irony) was against your genetic heritage?”

“Doctor McCoy”, the Vulcan deadpanned, “each and every one of your illogical and meaningless speeches is against my genetic heritage, however I am still alive and well, despite your constant irrelevant and inane chattering.”

This time, Jim burst out laughing.

[AngelEyes]

3 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

For one moment, he thought the computer had not understood what he had just said because of the congestion in his voice (it had happened the day before: apparently, the words “deck dubber dide”, immediately followed by a harsh sneeze, weren’t clear enough, and it had been necessary to low his nose three times before being able to articulate his sentence distinctly enough for the computer to grant him with a response), but the door closed behind him.

LOL! I love this!

 

3 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Then, probably too tired to remain awake any longer, he had fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position, half curled up on his right side, his head against the doctor’s arm, the hand squeezing their friend’s wrist. Jim had shaken his head with a smile, closed the door, and gone back to his quarters without waking them up.

Awwww

 

3 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

The chief medical officer didn’t react, but Spock turned towards Jim and send him a warning look that meant more or less ‘if you continue to intrude into my private life and make stupid comments about where I have spent the night, I will not hesitate in administering you a Vulcan nerve pinch that will teach you how not to interfere in what is absolutely not your business.’

LOL

Love this update!

[Shamaël]

@AngelEyes thank you!!! This is almost the end... I really want to finish it before I post my Secret Santa, but the beginning of december has been so busy I barely had time to write...

 

Day 7 – 17:30

Captain’s log, stardate 4164,21

For the report of our intervention on Gault, please consult the technical file A2-C1612 (redacted by M. Scott, our chief engineer) and the scientific report A1-F4523, written by M. Spock, first officer and science officer. (McCoy’s voice, on the background, full of sarcasm: Simply put, if you really want to know why we turned back on the colony, go to hell.)

 

“It is out of the question, doctor. You’re coming with us on Gault. You’ve already wasted our time and tried my patience. The others are waiting in the transporter room. It’s an order. Am I clear enough?”

McCoy slowly rose from his desk and shot a venomous glare at the captain who had just burst into his office, after three calls to which the doctor had not answered – mainly because he had fallen asleep on his PADD half an hour ago, but he willingly admitted that he did not wish to set foot on a planet ruled by a guy who had not hesitated to contaminate an entire Federation starship. Leonard knew that, out of pure anger, he could say hurtful things and aggravate a situation that was already tense. Jim was aware of that. So why on Earth did he want him to beam down with the others, despite his obvious reluctance?

“… Were you asleep?” Kirk’s voice instantly shifted from authoritarian irritation to worried concern. Bones shrugged and stroked his stiff neck.

“I’m well enough to beam down, if that’s the meaning of your question”, he answered gruffly, “but I don’t understand whhh… why… why… heh-Hah’HATThhSHiew! Why you… deed be… heehh-heh-ahhh… dabbit! od the plahhhhAASSSHHhoo! Snifff- sorry, on the planet. Uhura’s going to communicate with Amani, Scotty will plug in his energetic… thingy into the colonists’ system, so both of them are indispensable. I don’t even mention Spock, since you never do anything without your Vulcan shadow. And he’s as qualified as I am to check the cure’s components Fargun will give you against that bloody cold he gave us.”

Jim shot a glance at the office door to be sure it was closed and stroked his already ruffled hair.

“Bones, there are on this planet malnourished children, maybe in a critical state. I need you to examine them, not only to ensure Fargun didn’t lie to us, but ah-also-huhhh… Huh’GZSCHHOO! Haahh’GSCHHHuh!”

A vicious double sneeze prevented him from finishing his sentence, but Leonard completed it internally: “… but also to prevent other deaths.” How could he have forgotten that on that planet people needed him – that malnourished children needed him? Ashamed, he sighed and shook his head. Really, he couldn’t wait for this whole mess to be over.

“I’m sorry, Jim, I… I didn’t think it over.”

Kirk shrugged and sniffed.

“Considering the hell of a week we just had, it’s not a surprise. But I assure you that once the treatment is administered to the whole crew, I’ll let you sleep for at least three days.

“Promises, promises, promises”, McCoy smiled, taking his tricorder.

He was about to leave his office when he felt his friend’s (way too hot and feverish, if you asked him) hand on his shoulder.

“Bones, I… I can count on you, right?”

The chief medical officer immediately understood the implicit of that wavering sentence. Tarsus IV was an event of Jim’s life they had barely spoken of, but Leonard knew it had been a huge trauma, one that would never leave him in peace.

“You can count on me”, he answered in the most neutral voice possible, a voice Spock himself wound probably have been proud of. “To examine those children, and to beam down some food if necessary. Discretely, of course.”

The hand on his shoulder tightened for a brief moment, and the two men left sickbay.

In the transporter room, Scotty, Uhura and Spock were already ready to beam down. McCoy noticed wearily the swelling of their pockets, probably full of tissues – a disgrace to Spock’s usually impeccable outfit. Bones had taken the same precaution before leaving his office. As he settled on the platform, he saw that Spock was exchanging a quick glance with the captain. What those two were able to say without uttering a single word was almost unbelievable.

The Vulcan turned his head toward the physician and scanned him, probably searching for more problematic symptoms than a sneeze and a sniffle. Leonard, moved by that almost unnoticeable concern, answered with a half-mocking smile. He was in fact feeling much better and rested than the previous day (he remembered going to bed feverish and nauseous, but against all expectations, he had slept well and deeply).

The first officer’s brow shot up and, visibly reassured by his inner diagnosis, he went back to his stern and rigid composure, eyes fixed upon the wall in front of him. It was something Spock always did when he was caught in the act of being too human, McCoy thought with amusement, and he realized that the captain wasn’t the only one to understand the Vulcan upon a gesture, a look, a simple expression. Both of them could have written a whole dictionary Spock-standard for the uninitiated. The idea was fun and he decided to suggest it to Jim once all this mess would be over.

“May I enquire as to why you are laughing, doctor?”

“Oh, nothing really interesting, Spock.”

The first officer didn’t reply, but everything in his look indicated that whatever was into the physician’s head, it was never interesting. McCoy giggled. Oh boy, he had missed those interactions during the last fifteen days, and he was relieved to see that the link between them was slowly going back into place. He wasn’t sure about what had brought the change, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. Maybe this bloody cold had had some positive effects on the ship after all? He had noticed it for himself, but also for other members of the crew. Solidarity seemed to have been reinforced during the last week. Worrying about others was one of the ferment of social relationships. Spock was probably not entirely immune to it.

The Enterprise walls dissolved suddenly and he felt his body dematerialize. The next moment he was in front of Fargun, who was waiting for them, alone, in the only transporter room of the colony. It was very difficult to read on his face what he was feeling, but the last events had erased the smug smile he had displayed during their last communication. Kirk went directly to him and shook hands with the governor.

“Captain”, he said with visible emotion, “I don’t know how I can thank…”

“hiihhh-TICHSSHHuh!”

Scotty’s high-pitched sneeze cut him off, and he had the decency to blush.

“Bless you, Mister Scott. Believe me when I assure you how sorry I am for… for everything. Desperate times call for desperate measures, that’s what I thought. I am well aware that this expression is only a stupid excuse for the crime I committed. As I told you earlier, captain Kirk, I am ready to be taken as a prisoner and be judged according to the Federation’s laws. You must know that I have acted on my own and that no one in our small community was aware of what I was doing.”

That small speech was uttered with utter sincerity, and McCoy, who was ready to yell at the man, was disconcerted. He found that a great part of his rancor had disappeared. Jim smiled and waved at his officers.

“Mister Fargun, the officers I brought with me are not only extremely competent, but also my closest colleagues and friends. I told them everything about your problem, your requests to Starfleet command and the extreme solution you risked as a last resort. I trust their judgement and I propose that we leave it up to them regarding your sentence.”

Bones took a sharp inhale and coughed violently. Uhura and Scotty seemed as surprised as he was himself. Fargun, who probably expected to be court-martialed, looked at them with wide eyes. (Spock, as usual, made a point of remaining perfectly still and neutral.) Count on James T. Kirk to surprise everyone around him.

“Well, Mister Scott”, the captain cheerfully said, “what do you make of it?”

“Captain”, the engineer answered, “I don’t think I’d have managed to deal with the crisis much better. I can’t condemn a man who was just trying to save lives.”

“Lieutenant Uhura?”

The young woman smiled and sniffled.

“Captain, I agree with Mr Scott. I fail to understand Starfleet behavior in this case and although I strongly condemn the threat we have been submitted to, I suggest that we exchange the treatment for Amani’s energy and that we drop the case.”

“Doctor McCoy?”

The physician glanced at his friend.

“I cannot disagree with my coworkers,” he said, weighing every word, “but I would add a condition to your freedom. You will, under M. Spock’s supervision, destroy all your researches around the common cold and you will give up this kind of experiences. I’ll check it up regularly and, if I have the slightest doubt, I’ll report you to Starfleet. Health is too precious a thing to be wasted.”

 “I understand, doctor, and I thank you for that second chance you offer me. You have my word, for what it’s worth.”

“Commander Spock?” Kirk asked, turning toward the Vulcan.

“Captain, I have nothing to add to doctor McCoy’s words.”

“Wow, that’s unexpected”, Bones mumbled, and Uhura muffled a laugh.

“Well, then problem solved.” Jim was probably inwardly delighting in the astonished look Fargun was displaying. “Now, for the way you should… well… alter the official reports, you might see it with my First Officer, while lieutenant Uhura and lieutenant-commander Scott install the container that should allow you not to be worry about energy for at least ten years – more than with a dilithium crystal. Doctor McCoy proposed to examine the population. We have some vitamins and proteinate fortifying that may help you at first, am I right, doctor?”

McCoy nodded, marveling at the way Kirk had settled all problems in five minutes. He had always admired his friend’s ability to lead men, and although he had the feeling he had been manipulated, he was forced to admit that this ending was most satisfying for everybody.

“Captain, how can I thank you, you and your officers, for…”

“IHHZCHISHHh’ihh! Hehh’HADDZZSCHHhsh!”

Kirk cut short the feelings with a double sonorous sneeze. Leonard, who know how much his friend hated those thanks, decided to intervene.

“Fargun, it’s time to start. The Enterprise must get to the system L-300 as soon as possible, and I’d rather have the crew in good health when we reach the system.”

“Of course, doctor. This way, please.”

A few minutes later, the CMO was following an energetic nurse called Martha Tobola to a small building not far from the main constructions.

“We’ll never thank you enough for your help”, she said fervently. “You can’t imagine how difficult our life is here. I don’t complain”, she added with a shrug, “we deserved it…”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’ve done, but I’m sure your children didn’t do anything wrong, and didn’t deserve any of it”, Bones said as gently as he was able to. “You don’t have to- Hh’ETCHHuh!”

The sneeze made an insidious attack and was followed by a particularly nasty bout of coughing.

“Bless you, dear”, Martha said, looking worried. “That’s a hell of a cold you got there!”

McCoy directed a second and very harsh sneeze into the handkerchief he had hastily retrieved from his pocket.

“HaaaHHARS’SHHOO! Snrfl – Sorry. You don’t know the half of it.”

[AngelEyes]

This is brilliant! I love how Kirk manages to wrangle McCoy in line. 

[Shamaël]

@AngelEyes: once again, thank you for commenting! This is the last part... And I think I'm done with Star Trek for a while.

 

Epilogue

Chief medical officer’s log, stardate 4167,55

The common cold that finally contaminated the whole crew is being resorbed gradually. We should be able to lift the quarantine by three or four days. Except lieutenant Riley, who stupidly… foolishly… inconveniently banged his head in a shelf while sneezing, there are no casualties. (Silence.) The medical report regarding Gault’s colony will be send as fast as possible to the high command, top priority.

 

“I haven’t seen him for two days. He’s locked himself into his office, doesn’t come to the officers’ mess, and when I ask him to come on the bridge, he just answers that he “simply doesn’t have the time”. It’s not like him, Spock.”

Jim shook his head, at the same time worried and irritated. He had come to visit the first officer with a question about the sector L-300 to which they were heading, and he had finally shared his doubts and concerns about doctor McCoy, whose behavior had indeed been at best erratic for the last two days. The Vulcan had noticed it, but, unlike the captain, he had obtained some answers.

“I do not believe that there is cause for worry”, he said, putting on the table two mugs full of theris-masu. “Doctor McCoy has probably been deeply upset by what he has seen on Gault, and submitted to a very intense stress because of the treatment Fargun gave us. He was afraid that it would not be efficient enough. Now that things are gradually getting back to normal, he should also return to normal. In fact, I proposed him to join us tonight, and he accepted. He should come as soon as he finishes his report.”

Jim, who had generously helped himself with honey while the Vulcan was talking, looked at Spock with suspicion. The first officer had thought he had spoken with his usual neutrality, but he had forgotten about the captain’s sixth sense.

“At least he answers you when you talk to him”, Kirk said bitterly. “He didn’t say anything since the day we beamed down on Gault. I think he’s mad at me for what I did – or didn’t do to Fargun.”

“Captain, I believe you are mistaken. The good doctor does not harbor any grudge against you. If he is feeling any resentment, it is against himself, because he thinks he should have seen what was going on on the planet. He thinks he should have reacted sooner, notice the signs of malnutrition which, I quote, ‘were as plain as day’.”

“Spock, please don’t think I’m trying to get into things that are none of my business, but… when on Earth did you find the time to talk about that with Bones? He spent the last two days examining the crew, and you’ve been yourself with busy with the comet we saw yesterday mor-heh… morning Hih’ztCHuhh! Excuse me.”

Spock sighed inwardly. He had believed (erroneously) that he would be able to avoid that embarrassing conversation.

“Captain”, he said bluntly, “the doctor and I spoke last night.”

Jim smiled for the first time since the beginning of that conversation.

“I know. Uhura saw you slip off his room around 6 this morning. I asked her to remain discrete about that.”

Fortunately, Spock was Vulcan. And Vulcans did not experience shame, nor embarrassment.

“Captain…” He was about to explain, but Kirk stopped him with a simple gesture.

“I’m sorry, Spock, I couldn’t help teasing you about that. I just wanted to be sure everything was fine. It didn’t occur to me that Bones could still be sick. For me, the epidemic was over. I had had my hypo, I was feeling much better, I… I just didn’t think it over.”

“Doctor McCoy administered himself the treatment yesterday, once he cured and examined each and every member of the crew.” The Vulcan was relieved: he would not have to explain the unexplainable reasons why he had checked on the chief medical officer’s health for the last two nights. He had found him feverish and delirious, and had remained with him all night.

“Things are better between you two, if I’m not mistaken?” Kirk finally asked, intensely looking at his spoon.

“Indeed”, Spock answered curtly.

He could not help feeling a twist of emotion when he remembered the first night he had spent at the good doctor’s bedside.

We’re friends, Spock, aren’t we?

A knock at the door cut him off his wandering thoughts. He straightened on his chair and opened the door vocally. Doctor McCoy’s tired face appeared on the threshold.

“Do you still have room for me?” he asked a bit gruffly.

Jim pushed the unoccupied chair towards him, while the Vulcan raised and filled a third mug.

“Theris-masu, really?” The physician sat heavily on the chair, sniffling, and winced. “Don’t you have something a bit stronger, Spock?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, but made no comment and took a bottle he kept for emergencies. Considering the week they had lived, it was one of these occurrences. When he put the bottle on the table, in front of the doctor, McCoy whistled.

“Okay, I take off everything I said about you and your green blood. Hhh’ACHOO! ATSHH’SHUH!”

“I was not aware that alcohol was enough to put you into a good mood, doctor, or I would have employed that technique long ago.”

Jim giggled and McCoy smiled.

“Well, I’m easily corrupted.”

He took a swallow of his theris-masu-rum with visible pleasure and turned to the captain.

“Jim, I’ve not exactly been the perfect friend and co-worker those last days and I’m sorry. Spock, I’m sorry I refused the help you offered me yesterday. Anyway, I’ve been stupid, I remained locked in my office and I didn’t have the opportunity to apologize, so I’m doing it now. I'm really sorry.”

Kirk and Spock exchanged a quick glance. It wasn’t difficult to understand the unspoken question: he doesn’t remember you spent the last two nights at his bedside? The Vulcan imperceptibly shook his head. No. No, and that is better this way. The captain smiled.

“Don’t you worry about that, Bones. You had other things in mind.”

McCoy nodded absent-mindedly. Spock knew that gesture by heart: it generally indicated a guilt all the more absurd since he had done everything that was humanly possible.

“Doctor, whatever you saw on Gault, you are not responsible for any of it.”

“It doesn’t make it easier, Spock”, the physician answered quietly, playing nervously with his spoon. “I know that you can forget empathy very easily, but I can’t do that.”

Spock didn’t answer. He knew it was true. It was a human burden and he was grateful for his Vulcan heritage. He had seen both his friends overwhelmed by what they had seen or lived, unable to sleep, unable to sort out their emotions. He knew it was at the same time the greatness and the curse of humanity.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jim proposed.

“Twenty-three requests”, McCoy immediately said. “They sent twenty-three requests! It’s impossible that the high command wasn’t aware of what was going on on that bloody planet. The truth is that they just didn’t care. And that’s intolerable! There are children on Gault, infants that suffer from cold and hunger because those stupid admirals didn’t condescend to read Fargun’s repeated calls for help!” He stopped abruptly and took another sip. “Sorry. I just had to rant. I know it’s not your fault or anything.”

“How is the crew now?” Spock asked, trying to bring the conversation back to less problematic subjects.

“Convalescing”, the doctor answered with a sniff. “In three days it will be over. The treatment eliminates every cell from the prastifera, and the virus is immediately weakened. I imagine you’re feeling much better, don’t you?”

The captain and the first officer nodded. Except some sneezes here and there, everything was back to normal. Only the chief medical officer still seemed exhausted. His skin was grey and there was bags under his eyes. It was obvious that he had not slept much recently.

“Do you want to play a game of chess, Spock?”

The doctor jumped at the unexpected voice. The Vulcan deduced that he was drifting off and that the captain, whose eyes were still upon him, was maneuvering to make him adopt a more comfortable position.

“With pleasure, captain. Doctor, if it is not asking too much, could you have a look at the new article I intend to send to the Academy about Ramatis biotope? The PADD is on the bed. Feel free to make all the modifications you consider necessary.”

McCoy stood up and wavered, his mug in his left hand, before sitting on the first officer’s bed.

“Really, Spock, you want me to correct your paper?”

He was obviously looking for the trap behind the proposition. Spock took the chessboard and settled the pieces on the table.

“Of course, doctor. You have worked with me on the specimens we brought back aboard the ship. It is only logical to offer you a right of inspection on what I have written.”

Jim turned away to hide a smile. The bait was almost too big, but the chief medical officer, probably too tired to realise it, took the PADD eagerly.

For half an hour, the silence was only broken by the physician’s exclamations, traducing his interest, his disapproval or his admiration. Spock, unfazed, continued to play.

Finally, the Vulcan heard a distinct snore coming from the bed where McCoy had fallen asleep, the PADD on his chest, his right hand lifeless on the bedspread. The captain muffled a laugh.

“This time, when he leaves your room, be careful that no one sees him. People could talk.”

Spock raised an amused eyebrow.

“I could not care less about rumors and gossips, Jim. Checkmate.”

“You know I wasn’t focused on the game”, Jim protested with a smile. “Give me my revenge. And, Spock?” he added with hesitation.

“Captain?”

“Thank you. For Bones, for Gault, for… everything.”

The first officer wavered. He could, as usual, dismiss the thanking, because ‘one does not thank logic’, but something held him back.

You wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling.

Maybe it was time to abandon the mask for a moment.

“I believe the human expression is ‘you are most welcome, Jim.’”

The captain’s smile widened, and he gestured at the chessboard, only pausing to sneeze.

“Huhh’TZSHCHuh! Your turn, Mister Spock.”         

[AngelEyes]

What a wonderful ending! Ties everything up nicely.

7 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Except lieutenant Riley, who stupidly… foolishly… inconveniently banged his head in a shelf while sneezing, there are no casualties.

LOL!!!

 

7 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“Things are better between you two, if I’m not mistaken?” Kirk finally asked, intensely looking at his spoon.

“Indeed”, Spock answered curtly.

He could not help feeling a twist of emotion when he remembered the first night he had spent at the good doctor’s bedside.

We’re friends, Spock, aren’t we?

Awww!

 

8 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

“I was not aware that alcohol was enough to put you into a good mood, doctor, or I would have employed that technique long ago.”

Jim giggled and McCoy smiled.

“Well, I’m easily corrupted.”

He took a swallow of his theris-masu-rum with visible pleasure and turned to the captain.

This is great. Sounds good to me!

 

8 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

Spock didn’t answer. He knew it was true. It was a human burden and he was grateful for his Vulcan heritage. He had seen both his friends overwhelmed by what they had seen or lived, unable to sleep, unable to sort out their emotions. He knew it was at the same time the greatness and the curse of humanity.

Awwww

 

8 hours ago, Aliena H. said:

You wouldn't know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling.

Maybe it was time to abandon the mask for a moment.

“I believe the human expression is ‘you are most welcome, Jim.’”

Awww, yay Spock!

[Jelloicious]

On 12/20/2018 at 2:57 PM, Aliena H. said:

if you continue to intrude into my private life and make stupid comments about where I have spent the night, I will not hesitate in administering you a Vulcan nerve pinch that will teach you how not to interfere in what is absolutely not your business.

I coulda quoted all the same ones as Angel did, just as easily.  Instead, I am fishing this one out because it made me laugh out loud.  Like, you know Jim or McCoy, has to have done at some point,  just looking at Spock and reading a through just like this!

Very wonderful story!!! I have enjoyed the heck out of this!

[Yumestar]

It's been over a month since I read this sickfic, but I'm still thinking about it! It's amazingly written and all the characters feel so true to their canon self

I would love to translate this sickfic into German and post it on Fanfiktion.de/ArchiveOfOurOwn, of course, giving you full credits and linking to the original. Would this be okay for you? 

I'm hoping for an answer! ^-^