sharpestscalpel | In Sickness

McCoy's manner was somewhat infamous. Luckily, perhaps, so were some of his exploits, even if wreathed in rumor and speculation. So few dared take too obvious umbrage at his treatment. Especially as he was the only game in town, if something like this happened. Rand was determined not to be cowed--but she had no wish to anger him, either.

"The captain sends her compliments, Dr. McCoy," she said. "I disarmed two crewmen: there's a phaser burn on my right arm and I think I've pulled a hamstring."

The walk had only exacerbated things, and her crash was catching up with her.

"Then stop being a goddamn idiot and sit on the fucking bed."

McCoy rolled his eyes. Shitting crewmembers didn't have two fucking brain cells to rub together when it came to not walking the fuck around on their cunt-smeared injuries.

But the back of his mind was busily organizing and analyzing the information she'd presented. Disarmed two crewmen - probably another moronic fucking assassination attempt. Uhura sent her regards - Uhura was just waiting to see how he treated this little bit of fucking pussy business like that was going to tell her any shitting thing meaningful about where he stood in relation to her dickwad authority. Bullshit. Bullshit of the highest colonic fucking order.

But it was, unofficial statistics maintained, most often disatisfied yeomen who provided the crucial information during successful assassination attempts. And this little biscuit and butter had instead stepped in, gotten herself right fucked the fuck up in order to protect Uhura.

Now that was fucking interesting.

Rand didn't rise to the bait--she'd had little choice but to walk to sickbay. No one was likely to carry her. Dr. McCoy was an asshole of the highest order but he was a talented one, so they said. Why Pike had put up with him, however, Rand did not know. She knew, at least partially, why Uhura had to.

She wondered what was cooking between them.

She sat, wincing slightly as her knee bent unavoidably.

He was an asshole, perhaps, but he was a actually a brilliant doctor. Particular details of his past aside, most captains would have put up with more than his bad attitude to have something of his loyalty ensuring their health.

Uhura had probably instructed... what was her fucking name? He scanned her. Rand. Janis Rand, right. Not gotten herself into a lick of trouble that resulted in sickbay until right this very fucking minute. Uhura had probably instructed Rand to say hi for her. He rolled his eyes again. As if that bit of petty faux-fucking-intimidation would have any impact on how he treated a shitting legitimate patient.

"Take those goddamn pants off."

Pulled hamstring was a good guess on her part and his tricorder confirmed it. The phaser burn was nasty and probably hurt like a bitch and a half but a scar wouldn't be as much of a problem as loss of mobility.

She was all tendon and msucle and bone. Uhura had good taste.

Rand stared at him for a moment, as if of half a mind to protest at least his tone if not his instruction, but it was the aftermath of the fight making her clumsy and it was gone the next moment. Wordlessly, she toed off her shoes, slid out of her uniform pants while favoring her right leg, and sat back down in just her cotton briefs. She'd be damned if some doctor was going to intimidate her, in the bargain.

She glared at him, but she followed instructions. This one had some fight left in her. She'd be fun to play with.

Not that his dance card wasn't already pretty fucking full.

But McCoy paused in his scan long enough to smile at her, soft and easy and totally unlike his anger of a moment ago. It was gone like he'd flipped a switch and it had drained away.

"The good news is that you're healthy, other than the injuries. You should heal up nicely."

The switch was disconcerting, which was doubtless what he intended. People in Starfleet played each other--it was unavoidable, though Rand tried to as much as possible. What she knew was that Uhura had the ship, McCoy had sickbay, and there was some tension between the two that Uhura was trying to stick Rand between.

It was even possible the assassins had been meant to incapacitate her, so she'd be sent here.

"What's the bad news?" she asked evenly.

His smile didn't falter, kind and gentle. Even his eyes were warming up as he turned the tricorder screen so he could watch her read the results herself.

The hamstring was more than torn - it was close to tearing. She needed two at least, more likely three, sessions under the regen unit and some physical therapy if she expected to get back all of her mobility with it. The phaser burn was incidental as was the black eye she was sporting.

"Gimme five minutes and the burn'll disappear like it never happened. I can give you something the bring down the swelling but we don't typically waste resources treating bruises so the eye'll have to heal on its own. The leg, you'll be seeing more of me than just today."

He turned to grab a small regenerator from the supply table and gestured at her arm.

"I need to touch you to make sure this works the way its supposed to."

She didn't care about the eye, or scarring, or anything like that. McCoy's manner hadn't dropped, and it was disconcerting her. And not for the reasons he might have expected, though maybe he was that canny. She wasn't upset at the prospect of being touched, but she was somewhat confused by the fact he'd cleared it first.

It was possible he was a good doctor, along with everything else, and that just made things confusing. Not that it was her place to be confused or not.

"That's fine," she said. She didn't know anyone who asked before they grabbed. "What's the leg need?"

McCoy probed the edges of the wound. The flesh was burnt, typical phaser wound. It was a sweet smell. If he'd known her better, or if he'd plain not liked her, McCoy would raise her arm to his mouth, taste the crisp char of it. But he was behaving. Behaving often led to... better times down the road.

So he kept his hands soothing as he guided her to prop her arm on the side table he pulled around, as he urged her to lean back so he could tend to her leg. The larger regen unit pulled over the bed, trapped her there as effectively as anything he might manage with the restraints.

Not that he needed to restrain her. Ah, personal restraint was the most wonderful.

"The leg, which means you, needs to stay still for an hour. You manage that?"

She had nice legs without the pants.

The longer McCoy behaved, the more confused Rand grew. She was smart--she wasn't experienced. So it was hard for her to judge whether he was just gearing up for something. She wasn't about to let her guard down, but at the same time, she had to let him tend to her. The leg hurt bad enough to worry her, and he knew what he was doing, creepy fuck or not.

She sort of doubted she had to have her pants off for this. But neither was she going to be fastidious and make a fuss.

"Think so," she said. She wouldn't need to be restrained.

He smiled his easy smile some more, his reassuring smile, then made sure the larger regen unit was humming over her leg before picking up the smaller handheld unit and moving back to her arm.

This one was quiet. Not a bad trait, actually. She didn't run her mouth with nerves or posture and threaten. But her eyes were big and open and taking it all in and she was wary.

Chapel better hurry the fuck up to work because he needed to see her in his goddamn office. And by office he meant his pants.

But none of that worked its way to his face. He ran the unit over the phaser burn, slow and patient. He whistled through his teeth, something soft and comforting, the way one would, without thinking, hum a lullaby for a small child.

Which, of course, just seemed creepy to the woman submitting warily to his care. Did he think he was putting her at ease? Or did he mean not to?

The regen unit didn't hurt, no more than the injury anyway, but it itched and crackled under her skin and reminded her of the things Uhura had shown her the night before. Wasn't a good association but she held still anyway, watching her arm and trying not to let him get to her.

The whistle had morphed into humming "I'm a Little Doctor" before her arm was healed to his satisfaction. He ran fingers over the fresh pink skin, watched the pull of it, tested the capillary action with his fingernail.

"Won't even have a scar. Good as new."

That had taken only 4 and a half of his estimated 5 minutes. Nice.

"You just stay settled right here - I got a nurse who's missing in action and I'd rather not find out she was caught up in trouble by someone bringing her in bleeding."

McCoy'd made Chapel bleed before. And there was always her period. He really liked her period. Actually... damn, no. That wouldn't explain her absence, she had another week to go before she was due for that particular bit of fun time.

It was interesting, watching the skin heal. Not, perhaps, as interesting as McCoy found it, but even so. She looked up at his words, wondering if it was common for his nurses to go missing for sinister reasons.

"Okay," she said, and after a pause, "Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome any time, little bit."

He crossed the room in easy strides, sprawled in the chair behind the main console, long legs stretched out in front of him. McCoy pulled out his comm again.

"Chapel."

There was no response.

Rand stared after him. "Little bit?"

Either he was mocking her--most likely--or she'd somehow done something to deserve a nickname. She was not entirely comfortable with that last, so she concentrated on the feeling of the regen unit throbbing through her tissue. And moving her arm experimentally--it felt fine. A little sore, the skin a little raw, but fine.

Well, she knew she could take that, now. It had been easy in the moment. After was the hard part.

She'd seen the nurse here and there, a haunted, strange presence most avoided. But Janis wondered what had happened to her.

The lack of response from Chapel was spoiling his easy breezey demeanor. If she wasn't answering, there was something going on. If there was something going on, he needed to know about it.

His glaze flickered over to the woman on the bio bed; she was studiously ignoring him.

Well. Uhura had been circumspect, hadn't demonstrated anything different with the ship though gossip had plenty to say. Wouldn't be the first time he'd fed the rumor mill and who would believe one little bitty yeoman?

McCoy settled his hand onto the console and called the probes. If he could give them a picture of Chapel, they could tell him what was going on. The mass, tiny and creeping, slowly covered his hand.

That got her attention. It could not fail, but again it was McCoy's choice to demonstrate it rather than the actual action that surprised her. It was no less disturbing this time, even across the room. It look as if the desk were consuming him, and she knew she'd dream of the ship taking them all into its being one day.

And that suddenly reminded her that they were all around her, in the biobed, the bulkheads, everything. Her breathing rate increased, as did her heart, but it was just as well. One corner of her brain told her it wouldn't do to not be surprised.

The sensors on the bio bed sped up - smart woman then, to be afraid.

But he had no attention to spare for her.

The probes retreated and McCoy picked up his comm again.

"Hlaing, come the fuck in, it's McCoy."

The security guard, unlike Chapel, answered on the first hail.

"Fetch me my fucking nurse from the observation lounge, will you? And don't touch her."

The affirmative came quickly and McCoy, with a calm that should not have seemed menacing, placed his comm very softly on the console.

McCoy was, suddenly, dangerous again. Not that she'd ever forgotten, but it was a menace she hadn't expected. The sort that was inherent, not overt.

He'd figured out her location from the things. She still didn't know what to call them. The ship.

She picked up something else, too. Don't touch her. She couldn't be sure, of course, but she was good at watching people. And she thought this was connected to his warning before.

McCoy just didn't add up.

Rand hesitated a moment before speaking. McCoy was dangerous, but the shift reminded her that he'd been pleasant before, if fucking creepy. But it implied, to her anyway, that he didn't bother much with fronting.

"She okay?" she called softly.

He stayed as he was, sprawled and lazy looking - but he was coiled inside, ready to deal with whatever shitting problem was presented itself. And he had an inkling what had happened.

Some motherfucker had told Chapel where they were, who was on the fucking planet.

Godshittingdammit.

Snatch-mouthed assholes didn't know when to keep their talky boxes closed right the fuck up - he'd fix that shit for whoever had shared the news if he got half a chance. This kind of bullshit had a negative impact on the harmonious function of his fucking sickbay.

"I don't reckon she fucking is or she'd have goddamn been here on time."

He managed, still, a gentle tone for Rand. But he drummed his fingers on the console and watched the door, waiting for Hlaing to bring Chapel to him.

Neither did Rand, but there was not okay and not okay. Wasn't anything she could do, anyway, but sit here and wait and not ask all the questions she wanted to, like what those things were (she knew what Uhura had told her, but knowing what McCoy would would be useful). And quell the effects of coming down from the fight and what might have happened and why she'd done it to begin with.

She'd done it because she didn't like how things were done, here. If those two had killed Uhura, most likely they wouldn't have held power, and there would have been a scuffle to fill the vacuum. That meant instability. It also meant that whoever succeeded Uhura would do so by playing on that instability, and there was no guarantee they'd be as reasonable--it was all relative--as she had been thus far. Still. None of this had gone through her head. She'd merely acted. And while she hadn't been too grievously injured, she hadn't had any guarantee of that, either.

McCoy seemed genuinely worried about his nurse, and that was interesting. Everyone knew Chapel was a nutcase, and a dangerous one. So she waited with him, silently alert.

They didn't have to wait long. Hlaing was efficient, which was why McCoy had called him in the first damn place. The door opened and Chapel entered, blank faced and dead eyed. Hlain walked behind her, hands behind his back.

"We are here now, Nurse." Hlaing's standard was accented. Didn't stop Chapel from obeying the implied command. She stopped, stood in the middle of sickbay like she was waiting for something awful to happen.

McCoy rose, stalked closer and Hlain shied away. McCoy rolled his eyes, waved him off. "You can go now." The security officed backed away with a quick look at Rand, though McCoy didn't know or give a shit what it was supposed to convey.

Chapel was fucked up. Oh, she looked just fine, mostly. Her hair, ordinarily sleek and pulled severely back, was loose and rumpled all to hell.

There went his goddamn schedule.

Hlaing was afraid of McCoy. Rand just stared back at him, not needing whatever it was he was trying to signify. For all she knew, she was on the shitlist now for thwarting the attempt, but the best thing she knew how to do now was make sure her leg wasn't permanently injured.

She figured she'd know if McCoy was trying something.

The nurse looked okay. Disheveled, maybe, but otherwise the way she always looked. If this was private business, McCoy would take it elsewhere. Until then, Rand was a captive audience.

McCoy circled Chapel, all of his attention on her. If some fucking busybody had ruined all the work he'd shitting put into making her functional....

He thumbed his comm again.

"Uhura. Captain."

She made him wait - but he'd expected that. When Uhura finally responded, she sounded like she was goddamn indulging him.

"This is the captain, doctor. Did you require something?"

If she ever gave him the chance, McCoy was going to strangle that woman with her own fucking hair.

"I need to talk to you about a sickbay matter, might have an impact on your away mission. You got a spare minute in your busy busy schedule?"

That got her attention, as he'd known it would. When she responded, it was quieter, no longer for show.

"My ready room in an hour, McCoy."

"Fine. McCoy out."

He paced around Chapel again, a complete circle. "God-shitting, dick-snotted snatch mouths can't keep a fucking thing to themselves on this fucking ship."

But when he spoke to Chapel, there was something of the same gentle tone he'd used with Rand. It was more familiar, though, almost the voice of a lover.

"Christine. Christine, you're in sickbay and isn't anyone going to fucking take you away from it."

***

The blonde woman blinked, finally. But she couldn't focus, couldn't feel anything, could hardly hear anything. There was such a roar in her ears. If she opened her mouth, it would get out.

"Christine. You are fucking safe here."

That voice was familiar though, she knew it. More importantly, she believed it.

Bones.

Christine opened her mouth and let the scream that had been building since she'd first heard Roger Korby's name in the mess hall echo out around her.

Rand looked away. She had to. This was too personal. She didn't know what the hell was going on, but it wasn't her business, and neither McCoy nor Chapel seemed to be aware she was even in the room. Hell, she wasn't even sure she was.

But she was, and she heard and saw. And she'd swear that McCoy cared, however creative his language, for the nurse. And Chapel responded, her scream piercing and raw, churning Rand's gut as much as everything else the past 24 hours had.

McCoy let her scream it out though her throat would feel like shit later for it. He was going to hypo her just about to in-fucking-sensibility anyway so it damn well didn't matter. He just needed to get her to a bed first.

"Come on, Christine." He held eye contact with her, settled his hands on her shoulders slowly slowly slowly and then urged her over to a bed in the corner, away from Rand and the bustle of the main area.

She followed, docile now. That wouldn't last. Chapel would fuck his sickbay up six ways from Sunday when it finally occurred to her so he needed to get her situated before that brain of hers took it into her head to smash some shit.

"That's right, easy now." He helped her onto the bed, took her shoes off. Then he rummaged for a hypo and hit her with a major sedative.

Jesus fucking Mary bent over a goddamn pew. She ought to be out for a few hours at least. He pulled out the restraints just in case.

McCoy led Chapel away, though still within Rand's line of sight. It wasn't her place to know what he was up to, calling the captain. But recent events had made her wondering at least understandable.

Not that the Empire was big on understanding.

Last night, Uhura had shown her the things in the walls, had shown her some trust. Today, she'd risked her life for her captain. And now McCoy, about whom rumor swirled like carrion crows, had treated her with an amused gentleness and shown far more gentleness--without amusement--to a seriously disturbed woman Rand was pretty sure no one else would give the time of day. They both had their reasons--everyone did.

They were pretty obscure ones, though.

Her knee tingled and she was restless, but she wasn't nearly done with her hour.

Chapel was out and Rand was still just where he'd left her like a good little biscuit and butter. He needed to calm the fuck down, that much was certain, before he went and saw her fucking highness the captain.

McCoy wandered back to Rand's side.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd not mention the state of my nurse to the general populace."

The general populace. Not the captain--McCoy didn't strike Rand as someone who was wanton with words. Words that weren't curses, anyway. Maybe he already figured she was in Uhura's camp.

"I have no reason to," she said. And then, because it was true, added, "I hope she feels better."

He scanned her again, watched the results flicked across the screen.

"Oh, she will. I'll damn well make sure of that."

It was equal parts reassurance and threat.

"You've got about another half-hour this time around. I'll release you when it's time but you're off-duty. Probably for three days."

'Off-duty' wasn't the same as 'vacation'--not around here, anyway. But she wasn't stupid, and if she really needed the recovery time, there wasn't much she could do. She couldn't exactly read his tone, but the whole scene was creepy enough she wasn't sure she wanted to be able to.

She nodded. "Fine," she said, brisk and practical. "And stay off it, I'm guessing."

"You're a smart biscuit. That's the shape of it."

She blinked at the epithet. Janis Rand was not anyone's biscuit.

Except inasmuch as she was low enough on the totem pole that she couldn't exactly make her own name. He was likely just trying to intimidate her.

She crossed her arms.

"Okay," she said. "I can do that."

He could just eat her up with some fucking jelly.

He grinned at her but it back into that serious look when he turned to survey Chapel.

"I'll be in my office. You holler if you need me or if she starts stirring."

She was going to just let him go--alone with Chapel was still better than alone with him--but her curiosity got the better of her at last.

"What was that?" she asked. "When you... On your hand."

There it was right there. She was curious. McCoy made his smile as kindly as he could make it - which was very. He leaned a hip against the edge of her bed, careful not to crowd her space too much but just enough that he was the most immediate thing around.

"Uhura irritates the shit out of me. But she ain't stupid. And I know what she wants. I'm willing, in fact, to bet that she's already shown 'em to you."

Dammit. The smile and the words were at odds. Confusing, and dangerous. And Rand didn't have a lot of experience as a spy.

"I'm just her yeoman," she said. "I bring coffee. Why would she show me anything?"

"Because she needs to be able to trust people."

It was plain to McCoy, like he'd read it in her med chart. It was in how she'd trusted Kirk when they were plotting together and in how she trusted that boy Chekov now.

She didn't trust widely - and she didn't trust Kirk or McCoy with an inch now. But she needed it so she didn't feel so all alone.

McCoy'd bet credits - and he wasn't a betting man - that Uhura hadn't fucked Chekov but she might just when it came to this little morsel. Made things more interesting. The game had more players now.

"Chekov's away and you're at her beck and call - bet she can't help but want to trust you, with your big eyes and sincere work ethic."

Those eyes narrowed now, keen to the mockery. "Maybe she did," she offered. "But why did you?"

"Why do I need to keep it secret? For that matter, why does she?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her and pushed himself up from the edge of her bed.

"Twenty-five minutes. I'll be back before then."

She looked after him, not saying anything further. Maybe there was no reason to keep it a secret, but they had done up until now--and Uhura had very clearly been demonstrating something to her last night. For that matter, she thought McCoy had been pretty conscious in his own actions. Weighing whether she was already in the know.

Maybe it wasn't a secret, but neither was in the habit of advertising.

She sat back and waited.

In Sickness

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