An Apple a Day 1/6
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except a pair of Spock ears.
Rating: PG13 - one mild swear word
A/N: This takes place after the TOS episode "The Apple". It will go up to R rating at chapters 4 and 5. Also, I'm new to LJ so any heads-up about breaches of etiquette, etc. will be gratefully received.
Part 1 - McCoy
On star date 3717.6, Dr Leonard McCoy, CMO of the Starship Enterprise, sat in his office puzzling the enigma that was Chief Science and First Officer Spock. He could fix his body, sure, but his damned stubborn Vulcan psyche was another matter. The situation had come to a head and it was his duty to see to the welfare of the crew. McCoy guessed Spock was not eating or sleeping properly; he certainly looked like Hell on Terra. It was hardly surprising after the downright bizarre events on Vulcan, and now a further setback on the latest mission which ended only a few hours ago. On Gamma Trianguli VI, Spock was struck by lightning, even he admitted he was in pain but not as much pain as McCoy was in having the hobgoblin cluttering up his sickbay. McCoy pondered the situation and decided some subtle manoeuvring was called for. Trawling through the bridge duty rosters he found what he was looking for. Bingo! He pushed a button on the comm unit and got straight through to Uhura.
“Dr McCoy, what can I do for you Sir?”
“Can you stop by medical when you get off tonight? I really need a favour doll and I can’t think of anyone better qualified to help me than you.”
“Of course Doctor McCoy, anything for you, I’ll be there at 16.05.”
“Thanks lieutenant, McCoy out.”
He thought Uhura sounded intrigued but she wasn’t the type to question him on a brief call. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing but, dog-tired and at the end of his rope with the green-blooded elf, it was worth a shot. Rising gingerly from his chair he made his weary way to Spock who was lying bare-chested, face down on a bio bed with a dermal regenerator unit arched over him.
“How’re you feeling Spock?”
“Eminently comfortable Doctor,” said Spock, sarcastically.
McCoy bit his tongue, he really couldn’t be bothered with Spock’s baiting at that moment. Pulling up a chair he sat so he was almost level with Spock’s head, brandishing a padd like a combat shield.
“Let’s just take a look-see at your medical file, shall we?” The First Officer’s list of sickbay visits was even longer than the Captain’s. “The last six months…almost complete neurological shutdown due to Denevan parasite, enough ardenaline rush to fell a stampeding steer during Pon-Farr…mind-melded with a mechanical probe. This week alone, aftershock from exploding rocks, knocked on your bony Vulcan ass by an extreme force-field, felled by plant stingers…again, and just for good measure, because far be it for you to do things by halves, struck by lightning.” He spat the last three words out individually and at volume, his southern accent strengthening.
“Most of these occurrences would have killed a human, and don’t give me any of your Vulcan nonsense. Your system is run down, you know it and I know it. Let me guess, you’ve been meditating and it’s not working, and you can’t sleep.”
“I fail to see that my private life is any of your concern, Doctor.”
“Dammit Spock, I’m a physician, not a spy; I’m not your enemy. You yourself were swift enough to trick Jim into shore leave when you thought he was exhausted. If you were anyone else I’d have you declared unfit for duty for a fortnight. As it is, I’m signing you out for two days, and think yourself lucky I’m not being harder. You’re making no allowances for your human half.”
“I assure you I have no desire to spend the next two days in sickbay.” Spock’s resigned look belied his words and McCoy felt sorry for the poor bastard, trapped in his unfathomable, logical purgatory. He pretended to think for a few seconds.
“Right you stubborn, unmovable Vulcan, I’m offering you a get-out-of jail free card.”
“Indeed doctor, this is uncommonly similar to incarceration.”
“You hate it in my sickbay, don’t you?”
“Affirmative.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat tonight. I’m off duty in a half-hour and Nurse Chapel will be in charge of you. She’s an excellent nurse and a professional but I know the past month when the pair of you’re together the atmosphere is thicker than plomeek soup running down a wall, you can cut it with a laser-scalpel.”
Spock looked at McCoy with undisguised annoyance.
“You may well look like that but I’ve got a proposal for you. You would rather be back in your quarters than here, wouldn’t you?”
“Indeed,” replied Spock warily.
“Well, if I can find a kindly volunteer to look in on you every hour for the next nine hours, with some painkilling spray and a portable dermal regenerator, I’ll send you back to your quarters. You can’t reach that burn yourself. It’s either that or take your chances here with Nurse Chapel.”
“I assure you I have no complaint with Nurse Chapel, however I would prefer to be back in my quarters,” sighed Spock.
McCoy nodded as he scraped the chair back to leave; as soon as his back was turned to Spock he grinned from ear-to-ear.
Twenty-five minutes later Uhura appeared at the door to McCoy’s office. “Come on in darlin', I’ve got a proposal for you.” She sat at his desk looking demure but inquisitive. “The thing is, Spock’s been injured and despite his damned stubborn Vulcan ways I think he needs a friend. I know you do those Vulcan music lessons and singing with him, and you help him with his computing lab experiments. Apart from Jim and I you’re the nearest thing to a friend he has, but Jim’s too close to this and I’m getting nowhere. Besides, I think this needs the female touch.”
Uhura’s brow furrowed. “I knew he was here Doctor, what happened?”
“He suffered a second-degree burn, it’s not serious but he’s in pain. He’s also a royal pain in my ass so I want to send him back to his quarters. He’s also under stress and run down, the burn should be healing quicker than this but it needs a few more hours. I need someone to check in on him from 17.00 ‘till 2.00am and I see you have a day off tomorrow so you can lie in. I know its an imposition and I’m truly sorry. I just need someone to run the dermal generator over the whole of the burned area in 15 second bursts after spraying it with painkiller. All strictly confidential, of course.”
“Can’t he do it himself?” She looked apprehensive.
“Nope, the burn’s right between his shoulder blades.”
“I’m not sure he’ll agree to this Doctor, can’t you get a member of nursing staff?
“There’s none to spare on the next shift,” lied McCoy smoothly. He was bending the facts for the hobgoblin, he would surely burn in hell for his transgressions of the Hippocratic oath.
“Have you asked him if he minds?”
“I want you to ask him, I think it will be better from you. He sees me as the architect of his mental and physical torture.”
Uhura giggled, but said, “I’m still not sure Doctor, but I’ll ask him.”
“I think he’d rather you looked in on him, on you go. Spock will choose the lesser evil.”
Uhura shrugged as she left the Doctor’s office, “I’ll try to be less evil Sir,” she smiled wickedly.
“Less of the Sir!” barked Bones. Watching her pleasing retreat he leaned forward onto his desk, arms crossed in front of him, nursing his plan to keep it warm.
Rating: PG13 - one mild swear word
A/N: This takes place after the TOS episode "The Apple". It will go up to R rating at chapters 4 and 5. Also, I'm new to LJ so any heads-up about breaches of etiquette, etc. will be gratefully received.
Part 1 - McCoy
On star date 3717.6, Dr Leonard McCoy, CMO of the Starship Enterprise, sat in his office puzzling the enigma that was Chief Science and First Officer Spock. He could fix his body, sure, but his damned stubborn Vulcan psyche was another matter. The situation had come to a head and it was his duty to see to the welfare of the crew. McCoy guessed Spock was not eating or sleeping properly; he certainly looked like Hell on Terra. It was hardly surprising after the downright bizarre events on Vulcan, and now a further setback on the latest mission which ended only a few hours ago. On Gamma Trianguli VI, Spock was struck by lightning, even he admitted he was in pain but not as much pain as McCoy was in having the hobgoblin cluttering up his sickbay. McCoy pondered the situation and decided some subtle manoeuvring was called for. Trawling through the bridge duty rosters he found what he was looking for. Bingo! He pushed a button on the comm unit and got straight through to Uhura.
“Dr McCoy, what can I do for you Sir?”
“Can you stop by medical when you get off tonight? I really need a favour doll and I can’t think of anyone better qualified to help me than you.”
“Of course Doctor McCoy, anything for you, I’ll be there at 16.05.”
“Thanks lieutenant, McCoy out.”
He thought Uhura sounded intrigued but she wasn’t the type to question him on a brief call. He didn’t know if he was doing the right thing but, dog-tired and at the end of his rope with the green-blooded elf, it was worth a shot. Rising gingerly from his chair he made his weary way to Spock who was lying bare-chested, face down on a bio bed with a dermal regenerator unit arched over him.
“How’re you feeling Spock?”
“Eminently comfortable Doctor,” said Spock, sarcastically.
McCoy bit his tongue, he really couldn’t be bothered with Spock’s baiting at that moment. Pulling up a chair he sat so he was almost level with Spock’s head, brandishing a padd like a combat shield.
“Let’s just take a look-see at your medical file, shall we?” The First Officer’s list of sickbay visits was even longer than the Captain’s. “The last six months…almost complete neurological shutdown due to Denevan parasite, enough ardenaline rush to fell a stampeding steer during Pon-Farr…mind-melded with a mechanical probe. This week alone, aftershock from exploding rocks, knocked on your bony Vulcan ass by an extreme force-field, felled by plant stingers…again, and just for good measure, because far be it for you to do things by halves, struck by lightning.” He spat the last three words out individually and at volume, his southern accent strengthening.
“Most of these occurrences would have killed a human, and don’t give me any of your Vulcan nonsense. Your system is run down, you know it and I know it. Let me guess, you’ve been meditating and it’s not working, and you can’t sleep.”
“I fail to see that my private life is any of your concern, Doctor.”
“Dammit Spock, I’m a physician, not a spy; I’m not your enemy. You yourself were swift enough to trick Jim into shore leave when you thought he was exhausted. If you were anyone else I’d have you declared unfit for duty for a fortnight. As it is, I’m signing you out for two days, and think yourself lucky I’m not being harder. You’re making no allowances for your human half.”
“I assure you I have no desire to spend the next two days in sickbay.” Spock’s resigned look belied his words and McCoy felt sorry for the poor bastard, trapped in his unfathomable, logical purgatory. He pretended to think for a few seconds.
“Right you stubborn, unmovable Vulcan, I’m offering you a get-out-of jail free card.”
“Indeed doctor, this is uncommonly similar to incarceration.”
“You hate it in my sickbay, don’t you?”
“Affirmative.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat tonight. I’m off duty in a half-hour and Nurse Chapel will be in charge of you. She’s an excellent nurse and a professional but I know the past month when the pair of you’re together the atmosphere is thicker than plomeek soup running down a wall, you can cut it with a laser-scalpel.”
Spock looked at McCoy with undisguised annoyance.
“You may well look like that but I’ve got a proposal for you. You would rather be back in your quarters than here, wouldn’t you?”
“Indeed,” replied Spock warily.
“Well, if I can find a kindly volunteer to look in on you every hour for the next nine hours, with some painkilling spray and a portable dermal regenerator, I’ll send you back to your quarters. You can’t reach that burn yourself. It’s either that or take your chances here with Nurse Chapel.”
“I assure you I have no complaint with Nurse Chapel, however I would prefer to be back in my quarters,” sighed Spock.
McCoy nodded as he scraped the chair back to leave; as soon as his back was turned to Spock he grinned from ear-to-ear.
Twenty-five minutes later Uhura appeared at the door to McCoy’s office. “Come on in darlin', I’ve got a proposal for you.” She sat at his desk looking demure but inquisitive. “The thing is, Spock’s been injured and despite his damned stubborn Vulcan ways I think he needs a friend. I know you do those Vulcan music lessons and singing with him, and you help him with his computing lab experiments. Apart from Jim and I you’re the nearest thing to a friend he has, but Jim’s too close to this and I’m getting nowhere. Besides, I think this needs the female touch.”
Uhura’s brow furrowed. “I knew he was here Doctor, what happened?”
“He suffered a second-degree burn, it’s not serious but he’s in pain. He’s also a royal pain in my ass so I want to send him back to his quarters. He’s also under stress and run down, the burn should be healing quicker than this but it needs a few more hours. I need someone to check in on him from 17.00 ‘till 2.00am and I see you have a day off tomorrow so you can lie in. I know its an imposition and I’m truly sorry. I just need someone to run the dermal generator over the whole of the burned area in 15 second bursts after spraying it with painkiller. All strictly confidential, of course.”
“Can’t he do it himself?” She looked apprehensive.
“Nope, the burn’s right between his shoulder blades.”
“I’m not sure he’ll agree to this Doctor, can’t you get a member of nursing staff?
“There’s none to spare on the next shift,” lied McCoy smoothly. He was bending the facts for the hobgoblin, he would surely burn in hell for his transgressions of the Hippocratic oath.
“Have you asked him if he minds?”
“I want you to ask him, I think it will be better from you. He sees me as the architect of his mental and physical torture.”
Uhura giggled, but said, “I’m still not sure Doctor, but I’ll ask him.”
“I think he’d rather you looked in on him, on you go. Spock will choose the lesser evil.”
Uhura shrugged as she left the Doctor’s office, “I’ll try to be less evil Sir,” she smiled wickedly.
“Less of the Sir!” barked Bones. Watching her pleasing retreat he leaned forward onto his desk, arms crossed in front of him, nursing his plan to keep it warm.