Fic: Observer Effect (9/10)
Title: Observer Effect
Author: laughter_now
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy, with a smidgeon of Sulu/Chekov thrown in if you stand on your toes and squint
Disclaimer: I keep wishing for them, but I still don't own anything.
Summary: There's something down on that planet. Something no human ever encountered before. The Observers have watched many species fight it. And there is only one common thread to all those encounters - someone always dies.
Answer to this prompt at the buckleup_meme .
Incidentally, this will also fill the prompt "experiments by evil scientists" on my hurt/comfort bingo card.
Chapter 8
Jim felt like he was the one who couldn't breathe.
Standing there, a few feet beside the biobed his best friend lay on, pale and unmoving, something started to rise up inside of him, something deep and ugly that grew and grew until it blocked his chest and his throat felt too tight to breathe.
A burning pressure was building up behind his eyelids, and it was hard to focus his gaze as he turned his eyes away from Bones' still face to look up at the monitor above the bed.
No pulse, no respiration, no brainwave activity.
Jim was absolutely sure that that's what he saw on the display above the bed, that for a moment, all the medical displays were at zero. He was sure, and deep down inside he also felt it. He knew that Bones was dead.
But then, from one moment to the next, every display suddenly went haywire, vital stats peaking radically before they began to level out, and Jim took a step back in shock as suddenly Bones convulsed right in front of his eyes. He jerked upright with no warning and sucked in a huge breath, only to convulse into a coughing fit of epic proportions.
Jim didn't remember moving, but the next thing he knew he was at Bones' side, one hand against his back - which was warm, but no longer feverish - while the other tried to still the frantic movements of Bones' arms.
"Bones, are you all right?"
If Bones heard him, he didn't give an answer, but even though Jim didn't understand, it was happening right in front of his eyes. Bones was alive. And that was good. Great, really, but Jim remembered Bones dying, he remembered his own hand resting atop his friend's chest as it had stopped moving in time with his breaths, and he didn't understand what the hell was going on here. He just couldn't explain it.
After a few moments, the coughing stopped, and Bones' breathing started to get back to normal, and only then did Jim become aware of movement behind him. Turning around, his heart gave a funny jolt in his chest as he saw Chekov sitting up on the biobed he had been lying on, eyes wide in obvious confusion. He was still pale, but compared to earlier, he looked almost healthy again, and Jim felt the corners of his mouth stretch into the first real smile he could remember for a long time.
"Chekov!"
It made even less sense because Chekov had been dead, no doubt about it. He had been dead for even longer than Bones, and M'Benga had been there while he died. There was no mistaking that the young navigator had been dead, but now he was sitting there, wide awake and with no apparent outward sign of damage.
As if Jim's addressing him had been the moment to break a spell, Chekov started speaking, gesturing wildly as he slid off the bed and carefully stood on legs that had been too weak to support his weight less than an hour ago. He was talking nonstop, his words a curious mixture of Standard and Russian that was too fast for Jim to process at that moment when all he could think of was that both Chekov and Bones were alive when by all rights they should be - and had been - dead.
Bones' voice soon joined the cacophony of sounds in Jim's ears, a mumbo-jumbo of exclamations and questions that should have been confusing and hurtful to his ears, but which made Jim wish that it would never end. He wanted to throw back his head and laugh, for the first time in his life ready to accept something without questioning how it had happened. Those questions were for later, if this really turned out to be true, but for now Jim wanted nothing but cling on to the fact that right now it seemed and felt real.
For now, he followed the sudden urge to walk over to Chekov, ruffle up that mop of hair and pull the younger man into a tight embrace. He didn't slap Chekov's back even though he wanted to, but he was still too confused, too worried that his mind was only making this up in his grief, that it all might vanish if only he made a wrong move, even though Chekov felt real against him, warm and alive.
And then he released the even more confused young navigator and, as if he was following an inner beacon forever honed in one direction, turned right back towards Bones, pulling him into an even tighter embrace before the good doctor even had a chance to complain.
Bones, too, felt real against him, skin warm but not hot from the fever anymore, chest moving softly against Jim's as he breathed, and faintly Jim could even feel the gentle thudding of Bones' heart against his own chest. Bones was still talking, Jim could feel the soft vibration of his voice as he pressed himself as closely as possible against the other man, but amidst the confusion and this almost overwhelming feeling of relief and joy, Jim could only make out jumbled parts.
He could have gladly stayed like this forever, confused and not understanding but simply reveling in the fact that Bones was there, that he was alive and this nightmare had turned out all right in the end, but after too short a time Bones moved away from him, gripping Jim's arms with almost enough force to bruise as he tried to create some distance between them. But even that firm grip was proof that Bones was not dead, and Jim would wear the bruises proudly if only it meant that this was real, and that it would stay real.
Bones' eyes, when he finally managed to move Jim far enough away to see, were wide and confused, with an underlying notion of worry and something that was almost anger. He was still talking, but Jim only forced himself to listen to the words instead of just the sound of Bones' voice as the other man shook him non too gently.
"Jim! What are we doing in Medical? And why the hell are you not suited up? Are you out of your goddamn mind breaking quarantine?"
It was so typically Bones, this reaction of overbearing protectiveness, and Jim wanted to laugh at the fact that he had the chance to experience it again. He would have laughed and pulled Bones close again if he hadn't thought such a reaction wouldn't go over too well with his friend. But he didn't know if he had any words to relate to Bones what exactly had happened during these past horrible hours. He still didn't understand most of it, himself. To be honest, he didn't even know if he was able to speak at all.
"Damn it all to hell, Jim. This whole deck better be locked up tighter than a Ferengi vault, and you'd better have a damn good reason for breaking quarantine, because if not, so help me…"
"You were dead." Jim blurted out, and it was almost comical how quickly those words shut Bones up.
"What?"
"You…first Chekov, then you. You were dead. I had to break quarantine because M'Benga couldn't handle the equipment with the EV-suit, and the ship needed him more than me, but then Chekov died, and the radiation treatment didn't work either, and then you died, but now you're alive and I know it doesn't make sense, but…"
Bones shook him again, and Jim was grateful for it because he didn't quite know if he'd have been able to stop talking otherwise.
"All right, all right, one thing after another. You're going to sit down on that biobed now while I get a tricorder, and while I make sure that you haven't infected yourself with this virus from those idiotic heroics, you can tell me what the hell happened. From the beginning."
Jim thought that M'Benga or Spock might be better suited for the task, and now that he thought about it he started to wonder why they hadn't already come running to check up on the situation themselves, but then he remembered that Spock had cut the video feeds to Medical. Jim hadn't wanted an audience around as Bones died, but right now that meant nobody else on the ship even knew what was happening here.
Instead of sitting down on the biobed Bones had indicated, Jim hurried over towards the nearest wall console and hit the comm button.
"Kirk to the Bridge."
It took only a moment for Spock to answer. "Spock here."
"Spock, you and M'Benga need to get down here right now!"
For a second, there was an almost confused silence.
"Doctor M'Benga and I are currently perusing an alternative approach to rendering this virus harmless. Are you sure we cannot assist you from the Bridge?"
"Bones just woke up."
That statement wasn't met with the astonished enthusiasm Jim had expected, and he didn't understand why that was so until suddenly M'Benga took over and replied.
"If he's in pain, there should be a hypospray cartridge labeled…"
"No! No, you don't get it. He's awake, and he's fine. Talking up a storm, actually, and already waving around a tricorder again. Chekov, too. Well, he's awake, not waving a tricorder, but…oh, you know what I mean!"
This time, the silence lasted longer, and M'Benga's voice, when he replied, sounded genuinely worried.
"Captain, Ensign Chekov is dead."
Jim turned his head to find that Chekov had submitted much more willingly to Bones' medical authority than he himself ever had. And judged by the expression on Bones' face as he ran his tricorder along Chekov's torso and studied the readings, the piece of news that Chekov was dead seemed a little…outdated.
Spock and M'Benga probably had to see it for themselves to believe it.
"Just get down here, both of you. Maybe one of you can explain to me what the hell happened."
He pushed the button to break the connection before either man on the Bridge had a chance to reply. He figured Spock would reestablish the video link to Medical, and then it was only a matter of minutes before the two of them showed up down here. For now, Jim had other things to do, and if the way Bones was impatiently tapping his foot against the floor, a physical was first thing on that particular list.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It took about five minutes until Spock and M'Benga arrived in Medical, and considering that both of them had suited up in EV-suits, they must have broken some sort of speed record getting here. Jim was surprised at his own relief as both M'Benga and Spock took in Bones and Chekov with a degree of surprise and puzzlement that mirrored his own. Somewhere, deep down, he had been afraid that this was nothing but a manifestation of his mind playing tricks on him over the grief of losing these two men, but if Spock and M'Benga could see it as well, it was no illusion.
Bones was quickly relieved of the tricorder he had been brandishing like a weapon, and while his transition from doctor to patient didn't go smoothly, or without grumbling and complaining, in the end he had to surrender to M'Benga's unrelenting stare and sit down on the nearest biobed to let the other doctor examine him. It probably didn't help matters that both Bones and Chekov seemed horribly confused about everyone else's astonishment at them being alive and well. Bones at least had Jim's jumbled attempt at an explanation to hold on to, as well as his own medical knowledge on how improbable it was that they were alive and well when only hours ago this virus had been about to kill them.
They were all confused, Bones, Jim, M'Benga, Spock - and Jim could see that, though the Vulcan tried not to let it on - and especially Chekov. It didn't get better over the course of the next hour, during which M'Benga scanned and examined them, drew blood samples and ran one comparative analysis after the other while Spock checked and double checked the environmental readings on the entire quarantine zone, looking for any remaining traces of the virus in the air or in the environmental filters.
It only heightened the confusion, but there was nothing for them to find, no trace of the silicon virus in either Chekov's, Bones' or Jim's blood, nor in the air in the decon chamber, Medical, or anywhere else in the quarantine zone. The environmental filters were clear, and the only trace of the virus that could still be found was in the old blood samples that had been drawn hours ago.
"I don't get it," M'Benga admitted in a resigned tone over an hour later. After they had run every test twice, three times or more, he and Spock had eventually discarded the EV-suits a little while ago, and now he was running his hand through his slightly sweaty hair. "There is no trace of the virus in either of your systems. All the damage the virus already did to Ensign Chekov and Leonard is gone, as if it had never happened in the first place. It doesn't even begin to compare to the earlier readings we took."
Jim was glad that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand what was going on. Spock, M'Benga and Bones had seemed increasingly confused by the results they had gotten. Chekov, now clad in a scrubs shirt to replace his torn uniform, and Jim had been mostly reduced to sitting by and waiting for the moment when one of the men with a science degree would finally come to some sort of conclusive results.
Apparently, those results were not really providing any answers at all.
Spock stepped away from the console he had been working on. "It would appear that the virus is even more unpredictable than we initially assumed."
M'Benga sagged against the nearest bed with a sigh, and Jim looked in between the two of them with increased interest. He wanted to know what had happened, too, but at the same time with Bones' presence on the bed beside him and Chekov right in his line of sight, his relief outweighed his scientific curiosity. He only wanted to get out of here and let it all sink in, in the privacy of his quarters, and preferably with a lot of alcohol to help along the way.
M'Benga shook his head at Spock's words. "Unpredictable doesn't even begin to cut it. The only explanation that makes sense is that somehow, the radiation treatment not only had a delayed effect on Leonard's system, but also spilled over to Ensign Chekov and the Captain and cured them as well. And if that's the only explanation that makes sense we're pretty much screwed, because medically speaking it doesn't make any sense at all. It's impossible, that's what it is."
Spock inclined his head. "I ran a detailed analysis on the data from Ensign Chekov's biobed. The readings suggest the presence of minimal brainwave activity even after his physical functions failed."
M'Benga shook his head resolutely. "No. I don't care what your data says, I know how to read a damn biobed display. When I declare someone dead, you can bet that they are." He looked up at Chekov. "Don't get me wrong, Ensign. I'm glad you're still around, but there's no chance in hell I was wrong earlier."
Chekov's eyes widened, and it was almost comically obvious that he had absolutely no idea how to take that statement. In the end, he settled on a shrug.
"I don't feel dead, if that helps you any."
M'Benga huffed out a sound somewhere between a frustrated sigh and a laugh.
"No, you're definitely not dead now, that much is sure. In fact, all your readings are pretty much on the same level they were during your last physical three weeks back. Same goes for the both of you, as well." He looked up at Jim and Bones, who were still sitting side by side on the biobed. "I'm afraid this one will have to go down with the unsolved mysteries."
Jim decided that this was a good moment to interrupt on a more personal matter.
"Does that mean we can go?"
Bones' head whipped around, eyebrows drawn together in the way they only ever did when he thought Jim had said something particularly stupid, but M'Benga merely shrugged.
"I don't see any reason to keep you here, but then again I don't understand what the hell is going on here, anyway. But there's no trace of the virus in either of your systems, so I don't see why you can't spend the night in your quarters instead of here. Commander?"
He turned towards Spock for confirmation, but the First Officer seemingly had nothing to add.
"I concur with Doctor M'Benga's opinion."
Bones grumbled something that was too low even for Jim to hear, but which in all probability was some sort of remark about not getting asked for his professional opinion in his own damn Sickbay, so Jim wasn't going to ask. He really only wanted to get out of here as quickly as he could. Hopping down from his perch on the biobed, he forced a fake smile onto his face.
"Great. Thanks a lot, Doc. Spock, how about a debriefing tomorrow, 08:00 ship time?"
Spock nodded in agreement, but M'Benga interfered. "Better make that 08:30, Captain. I want the three of you back here bright and early tomorrow morning. I won't clear either of you for duty before I've run some additional tests, just to make sure."
Jim nodded, even though the last thing he wanted was to come back here, to the room where Bones had died, anytime soon. But as far as tenacity about medical treatment went, M'Benga had taken a leaf out of Bones' book, and Jim knew when a battle was hopeless.
"All right. Commander, even though I'm not back on duty yet," he cast a glare at M'Benga which the doctor ignored with an air of indifference that had to be yet another lesson from the School of Bones, "I would suggest we remain in steady orbit, with our sensors on the lookout for any other ships in the system. Ask Uhura to prepare a warning buoy to be left in orbit, programmed in all the languages she can think of. This isn't going to happen to anyone else."
Spock inclined his head slightly. "Of course, Captain. Though I would suggest that for now, you as well as Ensign Chekov and Doctor McCoy follow Doctor M'Benga's earlier suggestion and get some rest. It has been a…very taxing day."
Jim nodded and clasped a hand against Spock's shoulder. "You're right."
Instead of leaving Medical, though, Jim went over to where Chekov was still sitting somewhat forlornly and confused on the biobed.
"You'll be all right, Chekov? Anything you need before you get some rest?"
The young ensign's eyes widened as Jim singled him out, and he immediately shook his head. "No, Captain. I am fine."
Jim forced himself to smile and nod, even though he wanted nothing more than to tell Chekov that there was no shame in admitting it if he didn't want to be alone for the rest of the night. Spending the better part of a day in isolation, thinking that very soon he was going to die, would have taken it out of most people. But Jim knew Chekov well enough to know that he wasn't going to ask for anything, not here, not now. Jim would just have to make sure that Chekov got a little respite no matter if he asked for it or not. First thing tomorrow, he'd brief Uhura about he warning beacon, then he'd ask her to establish a connection to Earth. If anything was going to help Chekov deal, it would be that.
It didn't make Jim feel good to give Chekov the notion of personal concern and simply leave Bones in Medical without another word, but he couldn't help it. It was all he could do to thank M'Benga and Spock for all they had done, then the old and ingrained instinct to get out, to run took a hold of him and he had no choice but to follow.
He couldn't face Bones. Not after he had watched his friend die. Seeing that had torn something open inside of him, and until he had figured out a way to deal with all those feelings that were suddenly welling up, threatening to pull him under, he couldn't confront him. No, he needed to get out of here, now, until he was back in control of himself.
It was all he could do not to run down the corridor towards the nearest turbolift. He only had half his attention on what was going on around him, absently nodding to the few crewmembers he met along his way. A distant corner of his mind registered that the quarantine zone was no longer in existence, and that things on the ship were going back to normal at the same effective and rapid pace they always did after a crisis. He kept that thought in mind for tomorrow, when he was going to have to be Captain again and could spare a moment to think about these things, complement the responsible crewmembers and do whatever else was expected of him, but right now he only wanted to get to the safety of his own quarters as quickly as possible.
It wasn't a long distance, and though he had never timed it before, Jim had the distinct feeling that today of all days, it took so much longer until the turbolift arrived on D-Deck and he all but hurried out and over towards the door of his quarters. His fingers felt strangely numb as he typed in his code, and he was in before the door had even opened fully.
He had thought, hoped really, that just being back here, with the door firmly closed between himself and the rest of the ship, would help him get a grip on himself. But if anything, the lump in his throat that had been there ever since he had stood by as Bones weakly struggled for his last breaths just continued to grow. Just a little while ago, a shower had sounded like just the right thing to try and wash this day away, but right now Jim barely had enough energy left to stumble around the partition that separated his bedroom from the main area of his quarters and drop on his bed.
The lump in his throat was still growing, making it hard to breathe. He thought he could still feel Bones' fever-ridden body underneath his palm, radiating heat even through the fabric of his shirt, could feel Bones struggle for every labored breath until his strength ran out and his chest went still under Jim's palm.
It had been real. Too real. Bones had died.
Choking down a sob, Jim pressed his face into his pillow and tried to will himself to forget.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In another part of the ship, Sulu and Uhura were walking slowly down an empty corridor.
"You will be taking full responsibility for this," Uhura said in a scalding tone, but Sulu merely shrugged, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"I will. In fact, I am looking forward to delivering my first report. I am going to suggest we initiate first contact with the humans."
Uhura stopped, her head cocked to the side briefly.
"Preparations should take up a few centuries. Maybe by that time, they will be ready. Though I have my doubts."
This time, Sulu did smile. "I have a feeling this hasn't been the last time they have surprised us. But I think it's time for us to leave. My host has the desire to pay a visit to Medical as soon as possible."
Uhura nodded her assessment. After a few seconds, she and Sulu continued their way towards the Bridge, in no way perturbed by the question why they had been in the corridor in the first place.
TBC...
Thanks for reading. As always, please let me know what you think. Thanks a lot.
Please do not repost any part of this post, or your comments to it, on Facebook or Twitter. Thanks a lot.
Author: laughter_now
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Kirk/McCoy, with a smidgeon of Sulu/Chekov thrown in if you stand on your toes and squint
Disclaimer: I keep wishing for them, but I still don't own anything.
Summary: There's something down on that planet. Something no human ever encountered before. The Observers have watched many species fight it. And there is only one common thread to all those encounters - someone always dies.
Answer to this prompt at the buckleup_meme .
Incidentally, this will also fill the prompt "experiments by evil scientists" on my hurt/comfort bingo card.
Chapter 8
Jim felt like he was the one who couldn't breathe.
Standing there, a few feet beside the biobed his best friend lay on, pale and unmoving, something started to rise up inside of him, something deep and ugly that grew and grew until it blocked his chest and his throat felt too tight to breathe.
A burning pressure was building up behind his eyelids, and it was hard to focus his gaze as he turned his eyes away from Bones' still face to look up at the monitor above the bed.
No pulse, no respiration, no brainwave activity.
Jim was absolutely sure that that's what he saw on the display above the bed, that for a moment, all the medical displays were at zero. He was sure, and deep down inside he also felt it. He knew that Bones was dead.
But then, from one moment to the next, every display suddenly went haywire, vital stats peaking radically before they began to level out, and Jim took a step back in shock as suddenly Bones convulsed right in front of his eyes. He jerked upright with no warning and sucked in a huge breath, only to convulse into a coughing fit of epic proportions.
Jim didn't remember moving, but the next thing he knew he was at Bones' side, one hand against his back - which was warm, but no longer feverish - while the other tried to still the frantic movements of Bones' arms.
"Bones, are you all right?"
If Bones heard him, he didn't give an answer, but even though Jim didn't understand, it was happening right in front of his eyes. Bones was alive. And that was good. Great, really, but Jim remembered Bones dying, he remembered his own hand resting atop his friend's chest as it had stopped moving in time with his breaths, and he didn't understand what the hell was going on here. He just couldn't explain it.
After a few moments, the coughing stopped, and Bones' breathing started to get back to normal, and only then did Jim become aware of movement behind him. Turning around, his heart gave a funny jolt in his chest as he saw Chekov sitting up on the biobed he had been lying on, eyes wide in obvious confusion. He was still pale, but compared to earlier, he looked almost healthy again, and Jim felt the corners of his mouth stretch into the first real smile he could remember for a long time.
"Chekov!"
It made even less sense because Chekov had been dead, no doubt about it. He had been dead for even longer than Bones, and M'Benga had been there while he died. There was no mistaking that the young navigator had been dead, but now he was sitting there, wide awake and with no apparent outward sign of damage.
As if Jim's addressing him had been the moment to break a spell, Chekov started speaking, gesturing wildly as he slid off the bed and carefully stood on legs that had been too weak to support his weight less than an hour ago. He was talking nonstop, his words a curious mixture of Standard and Russian that was too fast for Jim to process at that moment when all he could think of was that both Chekov and Bones were alive when by all rights they should be - and had been - dead.
Bones' voice soon joined the cacophony of sounds in Jim's ears, a mumbo-jumbo of exclamations and questions that should have been confusing and hurtful to his ears, but which made Jim wish that it would never end. He wanted to throw back his head and laugh, for the first time in his life ready to accept something without questioning how it had happened. Those questions were for later, if this really turned out to be true, but for now Jim wanted nothing but cling on to the fact that right now it seemed and felt real.
For now, he followed the sudden urge to walk over to Chekov, ruffle up that mop of hair and pull the younger man into a tight embrace. He didn't slap Chekov's back even though he wanted to, but he was still too confused, too worried that his mind was only making this up in his grief, that it all might vanish if only he made a wrong move, even though Chekov felt real against him, warm and alive.
And then he released the even more confused young navigator and, as if he was following an inner beacon forever honed in one direction, turned right back towards Bones, pulling him into an even tighter embrace before the good doctor even had a chance to complain.
Bones, too, felt real against him, skin warm but not hot from the fever anymore, chest moving softly against Jim's as he breathed, and faintly Jim could even feel the gentle thudding of Bones' heart against his own chest. Bones was still talking, Jim could feel the soft vibration of his voice as he pressed himself as closely as possible against the other man, but amidst the confusion and this almost overwhelming feeling of relief and joy, Jim could only make out jumbled parts.
He could have gladly stayed like this forever, confused and not understanding but simply reveling in the fact that Bones was there, that he was alive and this nightmare had turned out all right in the end, but after too short a time Bones moved away from him, gripping Jim's arms with almost enough force to bruise as he tried to create some distance between them. But even that firm grip was proof that Bones was not dead, and Jim would wear the bruises proudly if only it meant that this was real, and that it would stay real.
Bones' eyes, when he finally managed to move Jim far enough away to see, were wide and confused, with an underlying notion of worry and something that was almost anger. He was still talking, but Jim only forced himself to listen to the words instead of just the sound of Bones' voice as the other man shook him non too gently.
"Jim! What are we doing in Medical? And why the hell are you not suited up? Are you out of your goddamn mind breaking quarantine?"
It was so typically Bones, this reaction of overbearing protectiveness, and Jim wanted to laugh at the fact that he had the chance to experience it again. He would have laughed and pulled Bones close again if he hadn't thought such a reaction wouldn't go over too well with his friend. But he didn't know if he had any words to relate to Bones what exactly had happened during these past horrible hours. He still didn't understand most of it, himself. To be honest, he didn't even know if he was able to speak at all.
"Damn it all to hell, Jim. This whole deck better be locked up tighter than a Ferengi vault, and you'd better have a damn good reason for breaking quarantine, because if not, so help me…"
"You were dead." Jim blurted out, and it was almost comical how quickly those words shut Bones up.
"What?"
"You…first Chekov, then you. You were dead. I had to break quarantine because M'Benga couldn't handle the equipment with the EV-suit, and the ship needed him more than me, but then Chekov died, and the radiation treatment didn't work either, and then you died, but now you're alive and I know it doesn't make sense, but…"
Bones shook him again, and Jim was grateful for it because he didn't quite know if he'd have been able to stop talking otherwise.
"All right, all right, one thing after another. You're going to sit down on that biobed now while I get a tricorder, and while I make sure that you haven't infected yourself with this virus from those idiotic heroics, you can tell me what the hell happened. From the beginning."
Jim thought that M'Benga or Spock might be better suited for the task, and now that he thought about it he started to wonder why they hadn't already come running to check up on the situation themselves, but then he remembered that Spock had cut the video feeds to Medical. Jim hadn't wanted an audience around as Bones died, but right now that meant nobody else on the ship even knew what was happening here.
Instead of sitting down on the biobed Bones had indicated, Jim hurried over towards the nearest wall console and hit the comm button.
"Kirk to the Bridge."
It took only a moment for Spock to answer. "Spock here."
"Spock, you and M'Benga need to get down here right now!"
For a second, there was an almost confused silence.
"Doctor M'Benga and I are currently perusing an alternative approach to rendering this virus harmless. Are you sure we cannot assist you from the Bridge?"
"Bones just woke up."
That statement wasn't met with the astonished enthusiasm Jim had expected, and he didn't understand why that was so until suddenly M'Benga took over and replied.
"If he's in pain, there should be a hypospray cartridge labeled…"
"No! No, you don't get it. He's awake, and he's fine. Talking up a storm, actually, and already waving around a tricorder again. Chekov, too. Well, he's awake, not waving a tricorder, but…oh, you know what I mean!"
This time, the silence lasted longer, and M'Benga's voice, when he replied, sounded genuinely worried.
"Captain, Ensign Chekov is dead."
Jim turned his head to find that Chekov had submitted much more willingly to Bones' medical authority than he himself ever had. And judged by the expression on Bones' face as he ran his tricorder along Chekov's torso and studied the readings, the piece of news that Chekov was dead seemed a little…outdated.
Spock and M'Benga probably had to see it for themselves to believe it.
"Just get down here, both of you. Maybe one of you can explain to me what the hell happened."
He pushed the button to break the connection before either man on the Bridge had a chance to reply. He figured Spock would reestablish the video link to Medical, and then it was only a matter of minutes before the two of them showed up down here. For now, Jim had other things to do, and if the way Bones was impatiently tapping his foot against the floor, a physical was first thing on that particular list.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It took about five minutes until Spock and M'Benga arrived in Medical, and considering that both of them had suited up in EV-suits, they must have broken some sort of speed record getting here. Jim was surprised at his own relief as both M'Benga and Spock took in Bones and Chekov with a degree of surprise and puzzlement that mirrored his own. Somewhere, deep down, he had been afraid that this was nothing but a manifestation of his mind playing tricks on him over the grief of losing these two men, but if Spock and M'Benga could see it as well, it was no illusion.
Bones was quickly relieved of the tricorder he had been brandishing like a weapon, and while his transition from doctor to patient didn't go smoothly, or without grumbling and complaining, in the end he had to surrender to M'Benga's unrelenting stare and sit down on the nearest biobed to let the other doctor examine him. It probably didn't help matters that both Bones and Chekov seemed horribly confused about everyone else's astonishment at them being alive and well. Bones at least had Jim's jumbled attempt at an explanation to hold on to, as well as his own medical knowledge on how improbable it was that they were alive and well when only hours ago this virus had been about to kill them.
They were all confused, Bones, Jim, M'Benga, Spock - and Jim could see that, though the Vulcan tried not to let it on - and especially Chekov. It didn't get better over the course of the next hour, during which M'Benga scanned and examined them, drew blood samples and ran one comparative analysis after the other while Spock checked and double checked the environmental readings on the entire quarantine zone, looking for any remaining traces of the virus in the air or in the environmental filters.
It only heightened the confusion, but there was nothing for them to find, no trace of the silicon virus in either Chekov's, Bones' or Jim's blood, nor in the air in the decon chamber, Medical, or anywhere else in the quarantine zone. The environmental filters were clear, and the only trace of the virus that could still be found was in the old blood samples that had been drawn hours ago.
"I don't get it," M'Benga admitted in a resigned tone over an hour later. After they had run every test twice, three times or more, he and Spock had eventually discarded the EV-suits a little while ago, and now he was running his hand through his slightly sweaty hair. "There is no trace of the virus in either of your systems. All the damage the virus already did to Ensign Chekov and Leonard is gone, as if it had never happened in the first place. It doesn't even begin to compare to the earlier readings we took."
Jim was glad that he wasn't the only one who didn't understand what was going on. Spock, M'Benga and Bones had seemed increasingly confused by the results they had gotten. Chekov, now clad in a scrubs shirt to replace his torn uniform, and Jim had been mostly reduced to sitting by and waiting for the moment when one of the men with a science degree would finally come to some sort of conclusive results.
Apparently, those results were not really providing any answers at all.
Spock stepped away from the console he had been working on. "It would appear that the virus is even more unpredictable than we initially assumed."
M'Benga sagged against the nearest bed with a sigh, and Jim looked in between the two of them with increased interest. He wanted to know what had happened, too, but at the same time with Bones' presence on the bed beside him and Chekov right in his line of sight, his relief outweighed his scientific curiosity. He only wanted to get out of here and let it all sink in, in the privacy of his quarters, and preferably with a lot of alcohol to help along the way.
M'Benga shook his head at Spock's words. "Unpredictable doesn't even begin to cut it. The only explanation that makes sense is that somehow, the radiation treatment not only had a delayed effect on Leonard's system, but also spilled over to Ensign Chekov and the Captain and cured them as well. And if that's the only explanation that makes sense we're pretty much screwed, because medically speaking it doesn't make any sense at all. It's impossible, that's what it is."
Spock inclined his head. "I ran a detailed analysis on the data from Ensign Chekov's biobed. The readings suggest the presence of minimal brainwave activity even after his physical functions failed."
M'Benga shook his head resolutely. "No. I don't care what your data says, I know how to read a damn biobed display. When I declare someone dead, you can bet that they are." He looked up at Chekov. "Don't get me wrong, Ensign. I'm glad you're still around, but there's no chance in hell I was wrong earlier."
Chekov's eyes widened, and it was almost comically obvious that he had absolutely no idea how to take that statement. In the end, he settled on a shrug.
"I don't feel dead, if that helps you any."
M'Benga huffed out a sound somewhere between a frustrated sigh and a laugh.
"No, you're definitely not dead now, that much is sure. In fact, all your readings are pretty much on the same level they were during your last physical three weeks back. Same goes for the both of you, as well." He looked up at Jim and Bones, who were still sitting side by side on the biobed. "I'm afraid this one will have to go down with the unsolved mysteries."
Jim decided that this was a good moment to interrupt on a more personal matter.
"Does that mean we can go?"
Bones' head whipped around, eyebrows drawn together in the way they only ever did when he thought Jim had said something particularly stupid, but M'Benga merely shrugged.
"I don't see any reason to keep you here, but then again I don't understand what the hell is going on here, anyway. But there's no trace of the virus in either of your systems, so I don't see why you can't spend the night in your quarters instead of here. Commander?"
He turned towards Spock for confirmation, but the First Officer seemingly had nothing to add.
"I concur with Doctor M'Benga's opinion."
Bones grumbled something that was too low even for Jim to hear, but which in all probability was some sort of remark about not getting asked for his professional opinion in his own damn Sickbay, so Jim wasn't going to ask. He really only wanted to get out of here as quickly as he could. Hopping down from his perch on the biobed, he forced a fake smile onto his face.
"Great. Thanks a lot, Doc. Spock, how about a debriefing tomorrow, 08:00 ship time?"
Spock nodded in agreement, but M'Benga interfered. "Better make that 08:30, Captain. I want the three of you back here bright and early tomorrow morning. I won't clear either of you for duty before I've run some additional tests, just to make sure."
Jim nodded, even though the last thing he wanted was to come back here, to the room where Bones had died, anytime soon. But as far as tenacity about medical treatment went, M'Benga had taken a leaf out of Bones' book, and Jim knew when a battle was hopeless.
"All right. Commander, even though I'm not back on duty yet," he cast a glare at M'Benga which the doctor ignored with an air of indifference that had to be yet another lesson from the School of Bones, "I would suggest we remain in steady orbit, with our sensors on the lookout for any other ships in the system. Ask Uhura to prepare a warning buoy to be left in orbit, programmed in all the languages she can think of. This isn't going to happen to anyone else."
Spock inclined his head slightly. "Of course, Captain. Though I would suggest that for now, you as well as Ensign Chekov and Doctor McCoy follow Doctor M'Benga's earlier suggestion and get some rest. It has been a…very taxing day."
Jim nodded and clasped a hand against Spock's shoulder. "You're right."
Instead of leaving Medical, though, Jim went over to where Chekov was still sitting somewhat forlornly and confused on the biobed.
"You'll be all right, Chekov? Anything you need before you get some rest?"
The young ensign's eyes widened as Jim singled him out, and he immediately shook his head. "No, Captain. I am fine."
Jim forced himself to smile and nod, even though he wanted nothing more than to tell Chekov that there was no shame in admitting it if he didn't want to be alone for the rest of the night. Spending the better part of a day in isolation, thinking that very soon he was going to die, would have taken it out of most people. But Jim knew Chekov well enough to know that he wasn't going to ask for anything, not here, not now. Jim would just have to make sure that Chekov got a little respite no matter if he asked for it or not. First thing tomorrow, he'd brief Uhura about he warning beacon, then he'd ask her to establish a connection to Earth. If anything was going to help Chekov deal, it would be that.
It didn't make Jim feel good to give Chekov the notion of personal concern and simply leave Bones in Medical without another word, but he couldn't help it. It was all he could do to thank M'Benga and Spock for all they had done, then the old and ingrained instinct to get out, to run took a hold of him and he had no choice but to follow.
He couldn't face Bones. Not after he had watched his friend die. Seeing that had torn something open inside of him, and until he had figured out a way to deal with all those feelings that were suddenly welling up, threatening to pull him under, he couldn't confront him. No, he needed to get out of here, now, until he was back in control of himself.
It was all he could do not to run down the corridor towards the nearest turbolift. He only had half his attention on what was going on around him, absently nodding to the few crewmembers he met along his way. A distant corner of his mind registered that the quarantine zone was no longer in existence, and that things on the ship were going back to normal at the same effective and rapid pace they always did after a crisis. He kept that thought in mind for tomorrow, when he was going to have to be Captain again and could spare a moment to think about these things, complement the responsible crewmembers and do whatever else was expected of him, but right now he only wanted to get to the safety of his own quarters as quickly as possible.
It wasn't a long distance, and though he had never timed it before, Jim had the distinct feeling that today of all days, it took so much longer until the turbolift arrived on D-Deck and he all but hurried out and over towards the door of his quarters. His fingers felt strangely numb as he typed in his code, and he was in before the door had even opened fully.
He had thought, hoped really, that just being back here, with the door firmly closed between himself and the rest of the ship, would help him get a grip on himself. But if anything, the lump in his throat that had been there ever since he had stood by as Bones weakly struggled for his last breaths just continued to grow. Just a little while ago, a shower had sounded like just the right thing to try and wash this day away, but right now Jim barely had enough energy left to stumble around the partition that separated his bedroom from the main area of his quarters and drop on his bed.
The lump in his throat was still growing, making it hard to breathe. He thought he could still feel Bones' fever-ridden body underneath his palm, radiating heat even through the fabric of his shirt, could feel Bones struggle for every labored breath until his strength ran out and his chest went still under Jim's palm.
It had been real. Too real. Bones had died.
Choking down a sob, Jim pressed his face into his pillow and tried to will himself to forget.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In another part of the ship, Sulu and Uhura were walking slowly down an empty corridor.
"You will be taking full responsibility for this," Uhura said in a scalding tone, but Sulu merely shrugged, a slight smile playing around the corners of his mouth.
"I will. In fact, I am looking forward to delivering my first report. I am going to suggest we initiate first contact with the humans."
Uhura stopped, her head cocked to the side briefly.
"Preparations should take up a few centuries. Maybe by that time, they will be ready. Though I have my doubts."
This time, Sulu did smile. "I have a feeling this hasn't been the last time they have surprised us. But I think it's time for us to leave. My host has the desire to pay a visit to Medical as soon as possible."
Uhura nodded her assessment. After a few seconds, she and Sulu continued their way towards the Bridge, in no way perturbed by the question why they had been in the corridor in the first place.
TBC...
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