Touch Alignment

Dr. Leonard McCoy was beside himself with worry and guilt.

At least that was what the nurse had said. Spock had always thought it was an odd earth expression.

It was physically impossible to be beside oneself unless one was having one of those questionably valid 'out of body experiences' that he had heard of, in which case, one was not mentally present in the original body and therefore was only beside one's body and not one's entire self. Of course this all hinged on the definition of 'self'. It was all very interesting to consider, but none of those considerations would help the good doctor.

Spock had returned from his post on the bridge as soon as he was able, fighting the reasoning that as Kirk was insensible, wishing to sit with him had no purpose and so was illogical. He really did have valid reasons to return to the sickbay. According to human psychology, even while unconscious it was possible for humans to gain some comfort from a familiar presence. Therefore it made complete sense to return to the captain's side with as much haste as was possible.

His thoughts were on the captain when he stepped up to the doors of the sickbay and they slid open to reveal Nurse Chapel, head down and in a hurry. Spock sidestepped the nurse gracefully, and then waited politely for the flustered human response to being startled.

To his surprise, Chapel didn't even attempt an unnecessary apology. Instead she looked up at Spock like a drowning man who had spotted that metaphorical life preserver.

"Spock! Thank God, you're here. I was just going to look for you." Her sharp feminine features were blanketed with emotion, something unusual in the very professional head nurse. Spock's thoughts immediately skittered away from Captain Kirk.

As unbalanced as he was in general, Dr. McCoy would never allow concern for a patient to trickle down to the rest of his staff. He was notorious for shouldering as much of the burden of the sick bay as he could humanly take on. If the head nurse was in such a state, something was wrong with the doctor himself.

"Is there a problem regarding Doctor McCoy?" Spock enquired.

Chapel nodded, too concerned to even wonder how he knew. She twisted her hands together, perhaps resisting the urge to bodily drag him after her into the sick bay.

"Come on. He's just beside himself and I don't know what to do."

Spock followed her through the sliding doors, looking for a second towards the ICU. Nurse Chapel saw his glance and shook her head. "Captain Kirk is still in critical condition, but he's stable. I think he's going to pull through. It's McCoy that I'm worried about. He was already in a bad way when your team came back. We just patched him up so he could work on the captain. I would have demanded he rest, except we all knew it would take McCoy's skill to save the captain."

The Vulcan cut in. "Captain Kirk has been out of surgery for several hours now. Dr. McCoy has my full approval to turn the rest of his shift over to Dr. M'Benga. According to my calculations he has been awake much longer than appropriate considering the recommended human sleep cycle."

Rubbing a delicate hand over her face, Chapel frowned. "I know. He's been awake more than 48 hours now, and his body was already over-stressed before you beamed down. With those broken ribs... McCoy would never let anyone else up and around after such a slap job of bone and dermal regeneration."

Spock's face remained passive, although he regretted that the doctor had ended up in this state. He had been unable to dissuade McCoy from joining the away team while he was still recovering from a serious flu. But the doctor's characteristic refusal to see logic had ended up saving Kirk's life.

The head nurse kept up a steady stride, weaving through the layout of bio beds towards the offices at the back of the sick bay. She sighed, and then glanced back at Spock, her jaw tightening before she spoke. "He feels guilty, Spock. He shut himself up in his office as soon as Kirk was stabilised, and he won't come out. I can't get him to go sleep and he won't eat either. I think the combination of everything has just pushed him too far."

Spock nodded. There was no reason for McCoy to feel guilty, besides the fact that guilt was a useless emotion. Normally the ship's CMO dealt with those feelings relatively maturely. But even down on the planet before Kirk's accident, Spock had seen the tell-tale signs of exhaustion in the doctor.

The whole mission had been a disaster. Despite their requests for Federation aid, the locals had been ambivalent towards joining the United Federation of Planets. But McCoy had been so troubled by the state of their medical system that he convinced Kirk to allow him to spend some time with the local doctors to teach them some basic skills and possibly even convince them that joining the Federation would be beneficial to their citizens and patients' health. McCoy rejoined them later, exhausted physically and emotionally, but grinning with happiness. Seconds later an official caught up with them. Apparently McCoy had extended healing to someone he wasn't supposed to. Unwisely, but quite expectedly, the doctor was defiant, and was viciously attacked by the guards while an executioner loaded his weapon nearby. Spock scrambled to get through to the Enterprise while Kirk jumped to McCoy's defence. In the ensuing chaos McCoy was freed, the captain was near-mortally wounded and Spock managed to phaser them a perimeter of safety for the few minutes before they were beamed up.

Now Spock saw nurse Chapel indicating the closed office door ahead, and he waited for her to return to her duties before venturing a knock. There was no response, but the door opened at his touch. Two things spoke to the Vulcan officer right away. First of all, the office was lit, meaning McCoy had yet to attempt sleep even though he regularly used the cot in the corner. Secondly, there was no scent of alcohol in the air.

This, of course, should have been encouraging. But it wasn't. Although he rarely drank to excess, it was quite common for the doctor to relieve stress with a drink at the end of a hard day, sometimes with captain Kirk in his company. The fact that McCoy hadn't even attempted to gain respite from the bottle was more than worrying.

He stepped into the doorway. McCoy, Bones, his brain said, was wide awake, pacing the length of his office in a stumbling, agitated manner. His hair was mussed, still standing in clumps of his own dried blood in some places. The shadow of multiple bruises coloured his pale skin, which to Spock's acute eye had an unhealthy quality of translucence to it. His startling blue eyes were nearly glazed over with exhaustion and were buried in dark hollows. Spock quelled the physical reaction in the pit of his belly, and spoke to his friend.

"Dr. McCoy."

There was no response.

"McCoy?"

The doctor finally looked up at him, blinking a few times before he abruptly turned away. "Damnit Spock, I can't- I just can't help – do – I don't know what to do..."

"You are merely feeling the effects of over-exertion, Doctor." Spock tried to insert himself into the middle of McCoy's pacing. "With some rest and nourishment you will find your mental and emotional faculties back to full capacity."

Hugging himself tightly with one arm, McCoy backed away from the living barrier and rubbed a shaking hand over his face, repeating the action when it brought no relief. "Leave me alone. You don't know anythin' about this, Spock."

"I know that you meant no harm to befall Jim."

"Shut up!" McCoy gripped at his hair, breaths hitching on the verge of hysteria. "Go... go bother some'n else. I don't needjer sympth- sypth..."

McCoy looked down at his shaking hands, and his face wavered on the verge of tears. "Aw hell! Sp'ck." He held them out for his friend to see.

Feeling for a moment like he was holding his breath, Spock braced his mental shields and grabbed the doctor's hand, wrapping his own long fingers around the trembling thin ones.

McCoy stopped his frenetic jerking, and crumpled in on himself, stooped as if the contact had let loose his waves of weariness. In that moment, Commander Spock realised what it was necessary to do, making him rather glad that the office was closed.

Loosing the doctor's hand, he grabbed McCoy by the elbow, and then pulled the doctor to his chest, wrapping his other arm around to support McCoy's other arm. The doctor seemed to deflate as Spock slowly sat him down on the cot, keeping his arm around him and both hands securely holding his forearms.

Being human, being a man of emotions and great heart, being a doctor, Spock should have guessed that McCoy was aligned to touch. Not in the clingy way that Kirk sometimes displayed, but in a basic comfort way. It was fascinating for Spock to feel the tension in the doctor's body drain away with remarkable speed before he sunk fully into Spock's embrace, and then his head lolled back gently onto the Vulcan's shoulder. A few minutes later, his breath evened out into the slow, calm rhythm of sleep.

Spock let out a gentle huff of air that could have been a sigh if he were any other species. But he was Vulcan, and he didn't show emotion. Of course there were a lot of things he didn't expect to do, especially this. Nowhere in his career plans had he expected to find himself sitting in an office on a starship in outer space, with a combative, infuriating, fascinating human doctor curled up asleep in his arms.

It was a good thing that Jim Kirk was also unconscious, or his two right hand men would never hear the end of this.