Title: The Best of Us

Author: Evenstar656

Summary: "I've never failed him before. I brought him back from the dead but I couldn't fix this for him."

Spoilers: Star Trek Into Darkness, general AOS

Disclaimer: The Star Trek franchise and its characters are property of Paramount. Excerpts from Peter Pan belong to the Great Ormund Street Hospital.

Author's Notes: I really have no explanation where this came from; I actually didn't intend to publish this. It was something that I had written just for me, but I've somehow convinced myself to share in hopes that someone finds it entertaining. I have two muti-chapter/adventure started, but I keep getting side tracked with little one-shots, I guess its the instant gratification...Just a bit of shameless h/c. As always, although I am a doctor I'm not that kind so I happily practice with my fictional degree. I've tried to research everything short of enrolling in med school. I purposefully wrote this from Jim's POV to avoid a lot of the technicalities…

I apologize for any mistakes, this was un-beta'd

###

"We are all failures- at least the best of us are." –J.M. Barrie

###

"Jim, I'm going to be there with you the whole time."

Every vibration of the man's voice was sending new waves of pain rippling throughout his head. He clinched his eyes tighter and curled in on himself trying to find a position that minimized the nauseating pain. The high dose analgesics that were being pumped into his veins weren't making the slightest dent in the constant pain. Only maximum doses of sedatives would give him a couple of hours of respite, but those were few and far between to prevent overdose.

"Jim, do you understand?"

Like he could actually focus on the actual words instead of the immense pain they were causing. He grunted hoping McCoy would get the picture and leave him be.

"We're going to get this thing out."

That he understood, "You...do...it...trust...you." It took every ounce of energy he could muster to force those words out.

"I know you do, Jim, but you need someone better for this."

He grunted again, not sure the meaning he wanted to convey.

"Rest, Jim, we'll be docking in an hour and then we'll get you moved onto the station."

###

It was certainly concerning but it wasn't the first time he had woken up bound to a chair, though this time made it seem like he was visiting a dentist from hell. He was partially reclined with thick metal bands around his ankles, knees, chest, over each wrist, and his forehead. The bands were tight enough and in the necessary locations so that he wasn't going anywhere. He could barely budge under them.

From his vantage point the only thing he could see was that the room he was in was less than sanitary. The room was dark but he could see that the walls and floor were extremely grimy. It really was a dentist's office from hell, complete with a tray of dirty medical instruments lying on a tray right at the edge of his peripheral vision. He half expected Bones to burst through the door in an evil doctor's costume and yell 'gotcha'.

He couldn't suppress his body from jumping when the door was opened forcibly and a group of three reptilian humanoids walked in. Their big yellow eye with dark slits did not look friendly; Spock and Bones were not going to be happy.

"Hey guys, nice little party we've got going on here," he smirked, hoping they couldn't sense his fear under his cockiness.

"Captain Kirk," the leader's tongued slithered between his razor sharp teeth like a snake.

He hated snakes; "You have me at a disadvantage here. See you know who I am, but I have no idea who you are."

"That isss not important, Captain."

"I think it is important if we're about to be so well acquainted," he eyed the tray suspiciously.

"We will not be usssing that, Captain. That is leftover from the previousss occupant."

Well that was a relief. One of the minions passed a complicated looking air gun to the leader.

"We will be usssing this Captain. Do you recognize it?"

There was a gnawing pit of fear gurgling in his stomach now, "I don't think that's a pellet gun."

The leader looked back at both of the other occupants before returning his gaze, "No, Captain. Thisss will implant a micro-explosssive into your brain. You will comply with our demandsss or we will trigger the device."

"My brain? How do you know it won't kill me before that?" if his stomach had anything in it, it was sure to have exited violently by now.

The two reptiles moved in on him and held his head still with their claws. Every little movement he made sent their talons into his skin.

"We've had practice, Captain," the gun was inched closer to his face until it was right under his nose.

"You know Starfleet doesn't negotiate with terrorists."

"I feel that with the right leverage, anyone will do anything. I know that your crew would do anything for you, Captain."

"You leave them out of this! I will do whatever you want" he struggled against the claws restraining him.

"I don't need you, Captain, I need your ssship and your crew."

"They won't do it. They'll let me die first."

"Captain, pleassse do not think of me to be unintelligent. Even here in the darkessst cornersss of the quadrant we know of you and your crew."

The barrel was brought up to his right nostril. He saw the claw on the trigger twitch and then absolute darkness.

Agony ripped him from unconsciousness bringing with it a guttural scream from his parched throat. The klaxons blaring around him were causing his head to pulse along with their wail. He tried to open his eyes but had to slam them closed once the first photon of light managed to strike his retina.

"Jim?" even the pressure of the hand on his shoulder was causing his head to try and split itself open.

"Head."

The surface he was on tilted violently to one side and he couldn't keep the bile from rising. He was vaguely aware of vomiting all over himself, but the pain in his head was too intense to focus on anything else for more than a few seconds.

"Dammit, Spock! Keep the damn ship steady," the gruff voice above him shouted. "There's blood in his right nostril, get me images of his sinus cavity and brain. GCS is good. Spine is clear. Give him 5 migs of Perazine and 0.4 migs of Lentanyl."

Even the jarring of his head from someone wiping his face with a cool cloth was sending waves of pain throughout his head. The surface tilted violently again and he couldn't help but groan.

"I know, Jim, they're firing at us."

He wanted to care that someone was firing at his ship but the pain would pulsate and all other thoughts were pushed aside.

"Images are up."

"Let me see," the activity around him paused for a moment. "Shit, what the hell is that? There's tissue damage all the way up the nostril. No intracranial bleeding so far. ICP is surprisingly only borderline high. I don't know if I can get that out. I want cellular scans of the area right away, Chris."

Hands were all over him again. They were cutting his clothes off, but he could care less at the indignity. Even the sharp bites all over his arms and neck that he normally complained about were nothing compared to what was going on inside his head. Finally there was a warm wave that washed over him and the pain ratcheted down a notch.

"Jim?"

He grunted in response.

"Jim, how bad is the pain now? On a scale from one to ten."

It took a lot of energy to form words, "Twenty."

"Give him another 0.2 migs of Lentanyl."

The warmth started at his arm and flushed throughout his body but did nothing to dampen the agony in his head.

"Better?"

"No."

"Okay, Jim, we'll try something different. Do you know what they put in your head?"

Of course he knew, "Explosive. They control it."

"Are you shitting me? Someone get me Spock right now!"

McCoy tried to move away but somehow he got a hold of the doctor's sleeve, "Don't listen to them."

"Jim?"

"I'm their hostage."

"Shit," McCoy bolted.

"Captain?" there was a sweet voice off to his left.

###

"Captain Kirk? Can you hear me?"

Every sound vibration from the unknown woman's voice was resonating in his skull. He longed for someone to put him out of his misery.

"We're going to move you to the OR now," the rustling of someone moving next to him was contributing to the radiating pain.

He grunted and continued to keep his eyes sealed shut and the pillow over his ear trying to muffle all sound. His stomach rebelled at the motion of the biobed lifting off its base a few centimeters and the jostling that followed as it was pushed gently. He blindly fumbled for the button that would send him what minimal relief the best pain meds in the Federation could supply.

"Captain, what are you looking for?" the biobed halted it's nauseating movement.

There was no way he was going to add more pain by using his own voice so he weakly mimed clicking the button he was looking for.

"Are you looking for your pain med controller?"

Bingo! He grunted in approval.

"Captain, it's been taken away for now. You're going into surgery. I promise you they'll give you something better when you get in there."

The biobed started moving again bringing with it a fresh wave of bile creeping up his throat. Agonizing minutes ticked by until the movement stopped for good and he was able to regain some sense of control over his stomach.

"Okay, Captain, we're going to move you now. Brace yourself."

He did brace himself but he couldn't control the cry of pain that escaped his lips. At least they had the sense to keep him on his side so when he lost the fight with his stomach the bile that came out splattered to the floor. A basin was placed under his chin but that was all that came up; he hadn't been able to tolerate anything orally for days.

"Jim?" even the motion from McCoy wiping his mouth with a cloth was enough send his head reeling. "We're going to start the anesthesia now, you'll feel better soon."

The arm with the IV in it was gently pulled away from the pillow he kept holding over his head. Warm fingers lightly grasped his as the pain finally started to ebb. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. Since he was able to focus on something other than his head trying to split itself open, he commanded his fingers to weakly curl around those holding his.

"That's it, Jim. I'll be right here when you wake up," McCoy's voice was unusually gentle.

Hopefully when he woke up it would all be over. The drugs entering his veins were more powerful than what he'd had on the ship and he could feel himself starting to drift off. They were cutting his ties to consciousness one by one until the last thread was cut and he was completely out.

If falling asleep was like cutting strings then waking up was the exact opposite. Strand by strand he could feel himself being pulled back to consciousness. At first he was vaguely aware of what was going around him until the pain was back but substantially subdued. He could feel himself on his side but with his neck propped up at a strange angle. The position his head was clamped in should have been causing pain in his neck but there were mounds of soft padding under him keeping him comfortable. Even both of his arms had been stretched out on foam in front him. He could feel a cold breeze blowing across his shoulders from where his gown had been removed and whatever was covering him didn't quite reach. A cannula was in his nostrils and blowing cool oxygen up them, and he could hear a soft beeping that was keeping perfect time with the pulsing in his head somewhere off to the side.

"Jim? Are you with me?" McCoy's hand was clasped around his and he was speaking softly, it was weird.

His lips were extremely dry and cracked, and his voice raspy, "Here".

There was rustling off to his side before a wet cloth was brought across his painfully chapped lips.

"Ok, Jim, I need you to open your eyes for me."

If he could snort, he would snort. Fat chance he was going to subject his sensitive eyes to any light.

"It's darker under there, you'll won't be in so much pain. Besides, they've given you better drugs than what I have on the ship. C'mon, Jim, I'm right here with you."

Under where? There was a heavy fog settled over his brain and he really didn't want to open his eyes. For the first time in days there was some semblance of pain relief and he just wanted to sleep.

"We can't start until you're up and talking to me."

"Start?" his brain was all fuzzy.

"The surgery, Jim, we talked about this earlier. The device has anchored itself in the middle of some important areas. We need to map the area before we can remove it so we don't cause any damage going after it. I told you that you'd be awake during this."

"Barbaric," Jim mumbled.

McCoy chuckled, "That's right, I said it was barbaric. You need to open your eyes now. The sooner they can get to work the sooner you'll feel better."

He couldn't help but groan. Micrometer by micrometer he willed his eyelids to open until the barest tendrils of light were seeping through his lashes.

"A little more, Jim. I need to see some blue."

His eyelids eventually made it to half-mast, more than enough to see what was going on around him and wish he could clamp them shut again. There was something draped over the top of his head keeping him in a little enclosed space that was considerably darker compared to the brightness of the room around him.

"That's it, Jim," his eyes were drawn the masked and capped figure leaning his head into his limited field of vision.

"Bones?"

"Right here, kid," his face may have been covered but those hazel eyes were unmistakable.

" 'm tired." he blinked sleepily.

"I know, I promise you can rest when this is all over. You should feel more alert in another minute or two."

"Hurts," he really wished he could just close his eyes and erase this from his memory.

McCoy moved out of his line of sight to talk with someone above him, "Hang on, we're getting you something for that."

He could see a gowned and masked figure move to the large console his IV lines were being fed from and tap something into the control screen. It wasn't long after that until the ever-present pain in his head ratcheted down another notch.

"Better," he sighed.

"Good," McCoy had moved back into his view. "You ready, Jim?"

"Choice?"

McCoy's eyes softened, "No, not really. We need to get this thing out."

Another groan escaped his lips. He could see the doctor purse his lips behind the mask. McCoy didn't reply, but he did reach over to a cart and grab a data pad and hold it in front of him. A program with big pictures of random objects was already up and running on it.

"Ok, I want you to say what each object is," McCoy flipped to the first picture.

"Apple. Cat. Shoe. Tree."

"Good, Jim. I want you count by sixes."

He wanted to roll his eyes, "Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-four..."

"Good, Jim. I need you to touch your thumbs to each finger," the doctor demonstrated what he wanted.

His movements were sluggish from all the meds running through his veins but he complied. He felt a chill suddenly at his feet as the drapes were removed.

"Okay, can you wiggle your toes?" the hazel eyes shifted to his feet. "That's good, Jim. They're going to get started now. You need to let me know if you feel anything and where it is. I'm going to keep asking you questions so you need to stay with me."

He was scared now; he was awake and someone was cutting into his brain. Someone above him was about it have tools and their fingers inside his brain. The beeping off to the side was quickening. It got the doctor's attention.

"Hey, Jim. I need you calm down. I'm going to be right here with you the whole time."

Several slow and deep breaths later and the beeping slowed itself and McCoy nodded to someone standing on the other side if the drape over his head. The pictures were brought back in front of his face and McCoy guided him through the images.

"D-d-og-og," he knew what he wanted to say but he could feel himself slurring and the ever-present headache was ratcheting itself up several notches.

McCoy looked down to confirm the image, "Jim?"

"D-dog."

He watched McCoy look to the person standing over him and nod, "You're doing good, Jim. Let's keep going."

"C-c-c-lo-ck. B-b-ok. El-l-l-e-phant. Sh-h-h-u-ttle. B-b-o-ones."

McCoy's looked down at the data pad again, "What's this?"

He could clearly see that the image was that of a ball but it felt like an icepick was just shoved in his head, "B-b-o-ones. H-hurts."

"Hang on a sec," McCoy spoke to the person behind the drape. The data pad was placed on a nearby cart and McCoy rolled in closer to his face, "Your head?"

"Yes-s-s."

"Do you feel anything else?"

"S-s-slur-ring."

McCoy took an outstretched hand and gave it a firm squeeze, "I know, Jim. They're mapping some speech areas. It'll stop soon. We'll give you a few seconds to rest. How's the pain?"

He was exhausted and hurting; he just wanted to be left alone to sleep. A new round of drugs hit his veins, weighing his eyelids down.

"Jim," McCoy's voice boomed. "Stay with me."

His eyes snapped back open, he wasn't aware that they closed, "Sorrry."

"You good to keep going?"

"Good."

The data pad was put back in front of him and he started naming the objects again. Slowly the slurring diminished and he was back to speaking normally. He wasn't sure how long it continued before McCoy finally set the data pad down.

"Thirsty," he watched McCoy move confidently at his bedside.

"I know you are, I can't let you have anything. I can wet your lips," a damp cloth was run across his painfully dry lips.

"I want to stop," he sighed.

Again he could see the doctor purse his lips through the mask, "We're going to move on to the motor section. Things might get a bit twitchy."

"This sucks," he sighed. "Where's the crew?"

"Well, unlike some of us, they're probably enjoying some R&R on the planet below. The beaches are supposedly made of some kind of purple glass pebble thing."

"Sorry, Bones," he could see the emotions swirling in the man's hazel eyes.

"Don't apologize, Jim, this is what it takes to get you well again. Are you ready to continue?"

There was a lump in his throat so he lifted the thumb on the hand closest to McCoy. The doctor nodded to the person above him.

"Okay, Jim, they're going to start with the next section."

This part seemed easier than the last; all he was doing was just lying there. That was until it started feeling like something was crawling up his leg. He tried to shake the offending creature off but his movements were sluggish and uncoordinated.

"Jim? Where do you feel it?"

"My leg," the sensation intensified until it turned into a full-fledged tremor.

He felt the coverings pulled off his lower half and his twitching leg exposed to the cool air. It seemed like the twitching continued for minutes before it finally stopped. As soon as his leg stopped twitching his right eye began twitching. He tried to pull a hand in to stop it but it was intercepted by one of McCoy's before it could reach its target.

"Make it stop," he ground out.

"Just hang on, it'll be over soon," McCoy gave his hand a firm squeeze.

"Captain?" a voice from above him called out.

"Yeah," he answered tiredly.

"You're doing great. I know this sucks but we've gotten to the device now. We're going to see what it's anchored to before we try to remove it."

"How much longer?"

"I'm not sure, Captain, we're going as fast as we safely can."

He grunted. At least the twitches seemed to have stopped for the time being. He looked at McCoy, who looked as equally exhausted. The respite didn't last long and it was only a matter of minutes before his hand started to clasp and unclasp itself. McCoy immediately strengthened the grip on the hand in his. The twitching continued off and on at various locations for at least another half an hour before they stopped completely, leaving him panting and drained. The cannula was gently pulled out of his nostrils and replaced with a mask that covered his nose and mouth.

"Deep breaths, Jim," McCoy instructed as he rubbed his arm soothingly. "They're almost done mapping and then they'll start on the device. Take a few minute to rest."

"Tired," his voice was muffled by the oxygen mask.

"I know—"

"Doctor McCoy, would you like to take a look at this?" the voice above him called out.

McCoy kept a hand on him as he stood up and stretched over the drape to see his exposed brain.

"Told ya I had a brain," he managed to smirk when the doctor reclaimed his seat.

The hazel eyes briefly lit up, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself."

Curiosity was suddenly nagging at him, despite it being the 23rd century it wasn't everyday that people were awake during their own brain surgery.

"Can I see?"

That caught the older man off guard, "I don't know if that's a good idea. It's a bit gruesome."

"Bones."

McCoy's eyes rolled, "I'll take a picture and let you look later. I don't want you getting queasy or anything."

The doctor took the data pad and stood up over him. He heard the shutter sound from the camera application before McCoy sat back down.

"Are you happy now you brat?"

He managed a small upturn of his lips.

"Okay, Jim, they're going to start the removal. We need you talking again for this so do you want the pictures again or do you want to read aloud?"

"Read."

"Do you want something specific?"

He couldn't stop the eye roll.

"Fine then, I'll choose," McCoy was tapping away on the data pad.

It was held up close to him and the font size was extra large so that he could easily see the words from his position.

The drugs made his speech slow and choppy while the mask muffled everything, "All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One d-d-day wh-wh-en s-s-she-e-e..."

"It's okay, Jim, keep going."

"...t-two years old she was playing in a g-g-gar-d-den, an-n-nd she plucked another flower and r-r-ran w-wi-th-h it t-t-to her mother."

"You're doing great, Captain. I haven't read this since I was a boy," the voice above called out to him.

"I suppose she must have looked r-r-ath-h-er d-d-deli-i-ight-ful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, 'Oh, w-w-why-y c-can't y-you remain like this f-f-for-ev-ver! This was all that passed between t-th-hem on t-t-the s-s-s-sub-j-ject, but henceforth Wendy knew that s-s-she-e m-mu-s-st gr-r-row up-p-p-p..."

Suddenly he felt like he was pulled very far away. He could see McCoy calling out to him but there was no sound coming from the usually loud doctor. In fact, all of the sound seemed to have disappeared to leave him in complete silence. There were several people fluttering around him. One gowned figure took the arm with the IV in it and injected something directly into the port there. When the figure finished McCoy moved back into his view and began slapping his cheek. It was weird, he knew there was something touching him but his brain wasn't recognizing the sensation. Now things were frightening. He could feel his heart galloping in his chest. It was like a switch was flipped and the sound returned to him all at once in a deafening roar.

"Jim?" he'd never heard McCoy sound so scared in all the time that he'd known him. "Jim, can you hear me?"

He latched onto McCoy's voice like a lifeline and used it to pull himself back to awareness. The doctor grabbed a dreaded penlight and flashed it in each eye. It was enough to bring him the rest of the way back.

"Boooonnneesss," he groaned.

"Jesus, Jim. That thing doesn't like being touched; it discharged some sort of energy pulse when they tried to grab it. It caused the seizure."

That wasn't good.

"It looks like the pulse caused it to short circuit without detonating."

That was good.

"Are you feeling better?"

He answered truthfully, "No, 'm tired."

McCoy's eyes softened, "I know, I promise you can sleep for a week when we're done here. Is your head hurting?"

"Always."

"Okay, we'll give you something for that. You ready to keep going?"

He couldn't help but sigh when the data pad was placed in front of him again, "You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end. Of course they lived a-t-t-t f-f-fou-r-r-te-e-en! an-n-nd un-n-til-l W-w-en-n-ndy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet-"

"Hey, Captain, guess what?" the voice called out to him.

"It's out?"

"It is 100% out, it's no wonder you weren't feeling so good."

A huge weight lifted from his shoulders and he sunk further into the padding. A tear slipped out of the corner of his eye.

McCoy looked beyond relieved, "Finally."

He vaguely remembered McCoy talking about how it traveled up his brain and anchored itself when he tried to retrieve it through his nose on the ship. McCoy had never looked and sounded so heart broken as he did after he woke up from the first surgery when he told him that he didn't get the device.

"See it?"

"Sure thing, Captain. We'll rinse it off now."

McCoy rose up for a few seconds before returning with a plastic container in his hands. The object inside rattled is it was held right in front of him. The implant was surprisingly large, but given the pain it caused it was understandable. It looked like a spider with a body and thin wiry legs sticking out of it. Spock and Scotty were going to have a field day trying to reverse engineer the thing.

"Ready to sleep for a while?" McCoy pulled the container away.

"Please," he eyed the gowned figure at the IV console behind the doctor.

"Alright, Jim, they're going to close now. I'll be with you when you wake up."

"All done?" he could feel the anesthetics hit his bloodstream.

"All done. You did good, kid."

He thought he saw moisture in his friend's eyes but the drugs were pulling him down too fast to stop and really look; he was absolutely exhausted.

###

It was the first time in days that he had woken up without the urge to take something sharp to his head and put himself out of his misery. He was even able to open his eyes voluntarily with the lights in his hospital room on. He sucked in a deep breath of the pure oxygen flowing into his nostrils.

"Hey there. How do you feel?" McCoy scrambled out of the chair at his bedside.

"Cold," he saw that the man looked more refreshed despite his wrinkled scrubs.

"Does anything hurt?" another blanket was unfolded over him.

"No," but he was already tired.

McCoy genuinely smiled, "I have a few questions and then you can go back to sleep."

He couldn't help but pout.

"I'll be quick. What's your name?"

"Bones," he whined.

"You were just awake for your own brain surgery, humor me."

"James Tiberius Kirk, Captain, USS Enterprise. Serial number is 93B8-0047512G."

McCoy was not amused, "Okay smartass. Do you know where you are?"

He looked around; he was definitely not in Sickbay on the Enterprise. There were banks and banks of instruments and equipment packed into the little room, and the display on the wall was showing all green vitals. One of the screens appeared to be showing a live scan of his brain, no doubt coming from the sensors he could feel attached to several places on his head and neck. Again he was propped up with soft padding underneath him.

"Not Sickbay."

"Fair enough; we're at Starbase 19. It was the closest station with a good neurosurgeon. Any pain, numbness, tingling, or vision changes?"

"No."

"Good, can you smile and raise your eyebrows?"

He complied without fuss; he wanted to go back to sleep. McCoy reached into his scrub pocket and pulled out a dreaded pen light. He braced for the oncoming pain but was relieved when the light was flashed in each eye with no agonizing consequences.

"That's great, Jim. Now touch your thumb to each finger and then squeeze my hands."

The doctor watched intently as he manipulated his fingers. McCoy's hands were warm and he dutifully squeezed them one at a time and together. He couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him when McCoy moved to the end of the bed and exposed his bare feet.

"Wiggle your toes for me?"

The little piggies moved.

"Close your eyes and tell me which leg I'm touching," the blankets were pulled up further.

"Things are getting weird now, Bones," he smirked.

Again, the doctor was not amused.

"Left ankle, now right knee. Am I done now?"

The blankets were pulled back down over his feet, "For now, they'll probably do these every two hours for a day or two."

All he wanted to do was rest, "Seriously?"

"Seriously, Jim. Though things are looking pretty damn amazing, all things considered."

"Good. Water?"

"Just a little bit, you're still technically NPO but I know you've got to be dying. Don't tell your nurse," a straw was gently placed between his lips.

The two sips McCoy let him have felt amazing in his parched mouth and throat. It was worth breaking the rules for. He lethargically brought his hand up to his head and fingered the film bandage and the area they shaved.

"How much is gone?" he was missing his golden locks already.

"About three square inches. The incision is already completely healed so hair will start to grow soon. I can grab some clippers and buzz the rest of it for you to even it up if you want."

He brought his hand back down to his lap, "This was crazy."

"You're telling me," McCoy scrubbed his face. "Get some rest, Jim. They'll need you up again before you know it."

"The crew?"

"Enjoying some shore leave; the senior staff is in the waiting room."

He immediately perked up, "Can I see them?"

"Maybe later, Jim, after you rest."

McCoy sat back down in the chair and leaned back into the headrest. Watching his friend fall asleep made him tired, and his eyelids grew heavier and heavier until he was asleep too.

###

His headache was back.

A mixture of chirping and hushed tones off to his side pulled him the rest of the way out of sleep. McCoy and another person were standing with their backs turned to him but he could see that several numbers on his vitals display were flashing yellow and orange. That couldn't be good.

"Bones," he rasped.

"Right here, Jim. How do you feel?" McCoy turned around looking very concerned.

The other person, a dark skinned man with bony ridges down the side of his face, also turned around looking equally concerned.

"Head hurts," he barely mumbled.

"Captain, do you remember me?" he knew that voice.

"Surgery."

"That's right, I'm L'anik, your neurosurgeon. We talked when you first arrived on the station, but I doubt you remember that. Can I take a look at you real quick? Some of your numbers are a little concerning."

It apparently was a rhetorical question since the doctor was already approaching with a penlight. This time the light did hurt and he couldn't help but groan. The doctor gave a quick apology and then went about doing his own version of the nurses' neuro check before pulling back. McCoy's silence was scaring him.

"What's wrong with me?"

"Well, Captain, you've got some postoperative bleeding in your brain. It's not much right now, but I want to keep a sharp eye on it. It's too deep for the regenerators to reach and I'd rather not have to go back in there unless absolutely necessary. We're going to give you some medications to bring the pressure down in your brain. Small ones like yours are normally easy to control with medication."

Shit. His brain was bleeding.

"Not good."

"No, it's not good, but it could be worse, Jim."

"Alright, Captain, I'm going to go write your new orders and I'll come see how you're doing after the meds have had some time to work."

The man left with an encouraging pat on his leg through the bed covers. It wasn't thirty seconds before a pair of good-looking nurses entered and started hanging new containers on the IV console and tapping away at the screen. One of them checked the multitude of sensors on his head and neck while the other turned up the oxygen being supplied to him. The head of his bed was lowered a few degrees before he was left alone feeling exhausted despite having done nothing during the process.

McCoy had pressed himself into a corner and out of the way of the busy nurses, "Bones."

He weakly lifted his fingers towards his friend. The man didn't need a second invitation and took his hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Don't worry, Jim, we can fix this."

" 'm tired," his eyelids were turning to lead.

"They gave you some medications to lower your blood pressure, it can make you tired. Get some rest, Jim. That's the best thing for you right now."

"Crew?" he was fighting to stay awake.

"They're waiting to come see you."

"Now?"

"Not now, you idiot. You need to rest and keep your blood pressure down."

He was losing his fight with his eyelids, "You're being nice, it's scary."

The doctor let out a sigh, "This has been scary, Jim."

The combination of the medications and his own lingering exhaustion finally won over and he was asleep quickly.

###

"Are you sure I can see him?" a hushed voice asked.

"Yeah, he hasn't had any more issues since the bleeding resolved itself two days ago. He'll probably tire quickly, but he's been annoying the hell out of me to see everyone. While you're here, should I ask how we managed to get another week of shore leave? I saw the orders in my inbox this morning."

He laid there quietly listening to the conversation between his CMO and chief communications officer.

"Spock called Scotty in for a private meeting when we got our orders to leave you and the Captain here and return to our mapping assignment, and then next thing I know I'm ordered to tell Command that something with the impulse drive broke and we need parts shipped. It so happened that they'd take a week to get here on the next cargo ship."

"Funny, huh? Well, that's also about the same time I told Spock that Jim needed to spend here before we can transfer him back to the Enterprise to finish recovering."

"How are you Leonard? You look exhausted," Uhura's tone softened.

"I am exhausted. I should've been able to get that thing; it never should've gotten this far. I've never failed him before. I brought him back from the dead but I couldn't fix this for him."

"You didn't fail him."

"Christ, Uhura, you weren't there talking to him while they were cutting into his brain. I know I have a strong stomach, especially concerning Jim and the shit he gets into, but it made me queasy as hell."

He peeped an eye open. The two officers were standing just inside the doorway.

"You know he's been awake right?"

Shit, busted.

"Hey there," Uhura's smile was as warm as the hand that grabbed his.

"Finally something pretty to look at."

"Someone messed up your pretty; that new haircut looks like shit."

He ran his free hand across his new buzz cut, "You have Bones to thank for this."

"Dammit man, I'm a doctor not a barber," McCoy looked more haggard than he remembered.

"I'll ask Carol to bring some clippers when she comes by this evening to work on it a bit."

"Bones, why don't you go get some shut eye, I'm sure the lovely lieutenant can keep me company for a while."

"Jim…" the man hesitated.

"Bones, please. You look like something you'd see on the side of the road going to your mom's house."

He had no room to talk. Lord only knew what he looked like between his scruff, badly buzzed hair, and the blinking sensors on his head.

"Leonard, go get a nap and eat. I'll sit with him until you get back."

The longing look his friend gave him was gut wrenching but he wordlessly nodded his head.

"I promise I'll be a good patient and I'll do all those name thingy checks without a single sarcastic remark."

"Oh, so it's only me you do it to?"

"Bones. Rest. Now."

McCoy headed towards the door, "Aye, Captain."

He caught the doctor looking through the small window on the door before stepping out of view completely.

"It was bad wasn't it?" he asked still watching the door, half expecting McCoy to change his mind and come back in.

"It was. You writhed in pain for four days in Sickbay until we could get you here. Apparently they could only knock you out for a few hours at a time. They took you to surgery on the ship right after you were beamed back, but he couldn't get it. Doctor McCoy said that the thing burrowed itself further into your brain the second he touched it with his tools. Getting it wasn't something he wanted to risk so he told Spock to get you here. He was so angry at himself he went and destroyed his office."

"Shit."

"Shit is right. He hasn't left your side for more than an hour since then. I think he's punishing himself."

That definitely explained why the doctor's usual gruff demeanor was suddenly absent. He didn't remember much of the last week; it was just an overall feeling of McCoy always being by his side whenever he was cognizant enough to realize what was happening.

"Can you get him some comm time home?"

It wouldn't fix the problem, but it was the best he could do for now.

"Certainly, let me message my relief and I'll have him set it up by the time Leonard makes it back to the ship," his comms officer was already tapping away at his data pad on she took from the bedside table.

"Thanks, Uhura."

"You're welcome, Jim. You look a lot better than the last time I saw you. I doubt you remember, but I saw you right before they brought over to the station. I think you tried to talk to me but I don't know what you were saying."

He nodded, he didn't know what he was saying either.

"Is there anything else I can get for you or do for you?"

"I'm okay for now."

Uhura motioned with the data pad still in her hand, "I saw Peter Pan open on this; do you want me to read to you?"

"Is Spock going to go green with envy?" he couldn't help himself.

The lieutenant rolled her eyes before reading aloud from the open page.

###

He was dozing when the door swished open and a much more refreshed looking best friend walked in with a thermos of steaming coffee. The man had not returned when planned. He thought he'd come back after Carol's visit but he waited and waited until the night nurse came for her last check before lights out.

"You finally get breakfast today," McCoy pointed to the tray of unappetizing liquids on the table in front of him.

"Not really hungry," he pushed the tray further away.

"Is your stomach bothering you?" the man sat down in the bedside chair and tabbed through the data pad he got from the foot of the biobed.

It was but not because of anything medical.

"You're scans are looking really good. I see Carol came by and fixed your hair," McCoy eyed him critically, the man never stopped examining him every time he looked at him.

He rubbed his head, missing his locks, "Yeah, she came by last night for a little while. I got the nurse to take the sensors off long enough for her to get the long parts."

McCoy nodded and took a long pull from his thermos, "Thank you for the comm time with Joanna yesterday. I needed that."

There was a burning heat in his cheeks, "I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to put you through all this."

The doctor set his coffee and the data pad down and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, "Jim, you have nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should apologize it should be me. I should've been able to fix this. You shouldn't have been in so much pain for so long."

"Bones, this wasn't your fault."

McCoy took a moment to swallow the apparent lump in his throat, "I've never not been able to help you. Not even after..."

"It's okay, Bones—" he reached out a hand.

McCoy took the offered hand, "You deserve the best, Jim. You and everyone else on that ship deserve better."

"We already have the best. You. There was bomb in my brain. I'm lucky I didn't die as soon as they shot it up my nose or that it didn't detonate on the way here. Which, by the way, you guys owe me an explanation for how we got away. Bones, not even you, or anyone else for that matter, could've helped me if it had gone off."

"Jim—"

"Look, think about it this way. This is just the universe equalizing from you bringing me back from the dead."

"No, I'm not doing that," hazel eyes narrowed.

He was exasperated, "Well then, what can I say? Bones, you're the best damn doctor I've ever known, and I've known a lot."

"I wasn't good enough."

His friend looked truly crushed.

"You know, this seems weird, normally I'm the one brooding on my failures. Not you."

The doctor scoffed.

"Bones, your fingers may not have been the ones in my brain, but you were the one who was there talking to me. You were right there while they cut into my brain. That's exactly where you should've been for that. I'm glad you were there with me."

"It never should've gotten that far…"

"It did; shit happens. All we ever do is try to make the best of the shitty situations we get dropped into. If it'll make you feel better, I'll shove something easy to get up my nose you can fish it out," he smirked

"That's not funny," his friend was not amused and pulled his hand free.

"Oh c'mon you old grouch. I don't fault you for being human. Will a free hypo stab help?" he wiggled his eyebrows.

That got a desired reaction and McCoy couldn't help but lift up the corner of his mouth, "Maybe a little."

"Good. I'm glad that's squared away, I know you like to hover, but goodness you've been going extra crazy lately. I'll get Rand or someone to help you put your office back together. That should give you something besides me to work on for a day or two."

McCoy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, "You heard about that?"

"Not one of your better moments there was it?"

"How soon can I use my free hypo pass?" the man's eyebrow rose, daring him to say another word about his outburst.

"Hey, easy with the trigger finger," he playfully backed off the topic.

"That's what I thought. Hurry up and finish breakfast. They want you up and walking today."

McCoy pushed the tray closer to him and sat back down in the chair. He could see between sips of the broth that the man had picked his coffee back up and propped the data pad on a crossed leg. It wasn't long before he was scowling and cursing under his breath at whatever he was reading.

"Those damn idiots."

He couldn't help but roll his eyes and reach for the applesauce.