"Bo-ones, I swear I'm fine." I arched an eyebrow at my friend and captain. It was always a bit concerning how much of a child he became during a simple trip to Sickbay.

"I don't know. You've been acting awful strange lately." You and Pointy-Ears both. I motioned for Nurse Chapel to bring a tricorder around. "Lack of concentration, you haven't been sleeping-"

"How would you know?" He asked suspiciously.

I snorted and avoided the question. Truthfully, it was simple. With my medical expertise, I had guessed. It wasn't too hard. He stifled yawns on the bridge as well as evidence of drowsiness whenever off-duty. Plus he simply looked tired. Good god, it didn't take a doctor to see that.

I could have told him this. It was more fun, however, to lead him to believe that I had been spying on him in some ridiculous fashion. I decided to continue listing my observations as if I hadn't been interrupted: "-somnolent when off-duty, distracted-"

"Doesn't that go with 'lack of concentration?'"

"No," I scowled. "Distracted implies that not only are you not paying attention, but you in fact have something bothering you. Or at least monopolizing your very limited thought capacity." Try and correct me you little….

"Like I said. I'm fine."

"I beg to differ, and as the ships acting Chief Medical Officer I am acting fully within my rights when demanding to know what's wrong with my captain!" I growled impatiently. "Now sit still!" Something flickered behind his eyes for a split second, but then it was, as per usual, hidden behind a cocky grin. I would get nothing out of him until we were alone.

"Well, Doctor, hate to disappoint, but there's just absolutely nothing wrong with me." I looked at Christine, shaking my head, and she smiled back.

"Maybe not medically, Captain," she suggested playfully. Jim seemed to process the friendly taunt, but instead of playing along he saw a way to use it to further his argument.

"Exactly. See, Nurse Chapel agrees with me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Well whatever she says, I outrank her and I say there is something wrong with you." I dug through a drawer, pulling out a compact, white container. "These'll help you sleep and, as your doctor and friend, I highly suggest that you see someone about whatever is bothering you."

"Alright, Bones. Thanks." Finally conceding, his grin turned into an actual smile; the reassuring kind that reminded me he wasn't just some young, cocky idiot, but intelligent and mature enough to captain a starship.

No matter how hard he liked to pretend otherwise.

//-//-//

Twenty minutes after my exchange with Jim my shift ended so, leaving Chapel in charge, I headed to the bridge. I was worried about Jim. I couldn't exactly say why, he just seemed different, troubled. He was certainly distracted. He nearly walked right past me this morning. Empty hallway, not much space to miss someone… Most peculiar, his shameless flirting was almost non-existent. We'd be walking down the hall and pass a pretty ensign and there wouldn't even be a once-over. He'd just either keep talking or staring into space, pretending to listen to me talk. Whatever point our conversation had reached.

The bridge door swished open and I found that I'd stumbled into an opportunity. Everyone was silently at work, however Jim hadn't actually noticed me. I leaned against the wall behind him, beside Uhura's station, and decided to observe my patient.

Nothing much was happening at the moment, we wouldn't reach Psi 2000 for days, so, admittedly, he didn't really have too much to be doing. However, staring with abject concentration at his first officer's back hardly seemed productive. He looked miserable, not in a way that the rest of the crew would notice, but I could tell. I stood perplexed as his bright eyes traveled across Spock's slim shoulders and tense neck, lingering for what my tastes felt was just a bit too long on the pointy ears. The pointy ears that were flushed green as if aware of the attention.

Then he did the unthinkable. He licked his lips. The movement itself wasn't overtly disgusting, just the light movement of his tongue slowly tracing his slightly parted upper lip, all very tame for someone such as Jim but the gesture was directed at Spock.

I couldn't help it. It was an acute stress reaction: a physiological condition arising in response to a terrifying event. In my disorientation I fell and hit my head, successfully drawing attention to myself and knocking myself out.

Well, what can I say? I'm a doctor not a spy.