Title comes from a Euripedes quote: Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.

It's when Spock stumbles getting out of the ship that McCoy remembers he's injured.

Really, it's been in the back of his mind all along, burrowed down deep and pushed aside by worry over Jim and his latest foolhardy stunt, but still there. He wouldn't be the doctor he is today if it wasn't. Right now, though, McCoy doesn't have the time to think of what life might have been like if he wasn't here today, hadn't joined this crew, because Spock is staggering out of this ship, emerald blood staining the side of his shirt, dripping over his fingers, and McCoy has much bigger problems.

"Jim! Get over here!" he barks.

McCoy doesn't wait for his response, just wraps an arm around Spock's shoulders and lifts. As much as he doesn't think Spock should be moving right now, there's no way they'll be getting a stretcher up here anytime soon, and if anything is worse than Spock moving, Spock bleeding out while they wait for a stretcher definitely qualifies.

Jim's at his side now, hovering and fluttering around like a butterfly. Funny, how he just defeated a genocidal captain gone mad, but the kid still has no clue what to do when it comes to one of his own needing help.

"Go ahead, tell them to get a biobed ready," he orders, and Jim shoots off, pace a touch too hesitant in a way McCoy will have to check on later, once he's sure the hobgoblin isn't going to bleed out all over him.

"What kind of fool move is that, piloting a spacecraft while bleeding like this?" he mutters angrily. "Could've gotten yourself killed, man! Then where would we be?" He hefts his arm further around Spock, and debates whether heading after Jim or staying put would be the stupider choice.

"I would assume, doctor, you would be in a position very similar to the one you are in now."

McCoy starts violently, then swears. Somehow, with Spock so silent, he'd thought the Vulcan had lost consciousness. Apparently not. That's where he makes his decision. "Alright, if you're awake, we're walking. Save the sarcasm for later." He tightens his grip around Spock, and they start down the walkway, like the world's worst three legged race.

They only go a few metres before Spock has to stop. He's breathing faster than he should be, but blood is still spilling from his side, and McCoy knows they can't stop now. "Sorry, Spock," he says, then starts moving again, nearly dragging the Vulcan for a few steps until his legs start working again. This isn't the most efficient way to get moving - it'd be hard to imagine any way less efficient - but needs must, and a fireman carry would put too much strain on Spock's wound.

"Doctor," Spock protests, and McCoy grimly ignores it. He has to get Spock to medical help, the sooner the better, and that means they can't spare any time.

"Doctor, please-" Spock's voice is weaker this time, and McCoy only has a second to curse every one of those crazy aliens before Spock's collapsing over him, bringing them both to the floor.

"What did you have go do that for?" he yells angrily. He pulls himself out from under Spock, and one look at the Vulcan's face confirms what he already suspected: Spock is out cold. He keeps yelling anyway. "You couldn't have given a little warning? Like 'hey, I'm about to collapse'? Or was that not logical enough for you?" His voice softens a little, anger falling to frustration. "Self sacrificing fools, the both of you. You and Jim deserve each other."

"Talking about me again, Bones?"

For the second time in under an hour, McCoy starts violently. He turns around to unleash his temper at Jim, but stops when he sees the tense edge to his smile, and the way his gaze hasn't moved from his prone First Officer. He says instead, "Shut up and help me with him."

Between the two of them, they lift Spock off the ground and settle him between them. "Stretcher'll be coming any minute now," Jim says. McCoy just grunts his acknowledgement.

A few minutes later, Jim's prediction comes true. Medical personnel run up to them, move Spock into the stretcher, and are gone again. Jim and McCoy hurry after, until Jim falters.

McCoy helps him to his feet, berating, "I knew something was up with you! What happened, Jim?"

Jim brushes him off, grudgingly accepting McCoy's supportive arm. "Never mind, Bones. It can wait until medbay."

McCoy gives him a careful look over, but even his practised eye, Jim seems to be right. Whatever's wrong with him can wait until medbay. "Alright, kid. Let's get you back to your crew."

"Our crew."

He thinks about it: the long missions, the void of surrounding them at very moment, the transporters which are surely going to kill him someday. He thinks about the people he's met; the kids that go out into the black, not knowing if they'll see home again. He thinks about Spock, whose home is destroyed. "Yeah, Jim. Our crew."