Title: When Mischief is Afoot (4/5)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: Jim and Spock are up to something. Leonard wants to know what that something is. Mischief ensues.
Previous Parts: 1 | 2 | 3
Or read at AO3

Leonard waves the Head Nurse into his office, discreetly checks that no one else is around to hear them, and tells her, “I think I spoiled my surprise.”

“What surprise, Doctor?”

“The you-know…” Leonard gestures grandly with his hands.

The blonde-haired woman frowns at him.

He mutters under his breath then clarifies, “The reason that Spock was nosing about in here a while ago.”

She frowns more deeply, no doubt concerned that he thinks the Vulcan First Officer ‘noses about’ in his spare time. When she reaches out to feel his forehead, Leonard bats her hand away.

“I’m perfectly healthy, not to mention perfectly sane, Christine.”

“I’m not so certain you are,” she counters, an odd expression in her eyes. “Is there… anything bothering you, Dr. McCoy?” Laying a comforting hand upon her superior’s shoulder, Christine adds gently, “You know I will help if I can.”

Leonard sighs, tempted to cover his face with his hands. Oh, he knew this was going to come back to bite him. But so soon? “About this morning… I may not have been—well, that is, I might have put on a little bit. But just a little!”

The nurse looks at him. She seems ready to say something but doesn’t and just looks at him some more.

“I’m sorry if I worried you. I had a plan.” Leonard winces. “That sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“As surely as it does coming from any of you three.”

“Any of you three who?”

Christine simply shakes her head. “Never mind. If you truly are sorry, you will apologize to that poor ensign. He hasn’t come out from under his blanket since this morning. The readings on his biobed monitor are the only reason I feel relatively reassured he hasn’t expired.”

Leonard cannot help but smile at hearing that. “Nurse, you were there. I didn’t do anything to the man. He should be grateful I was easy on him!” Then he recalls what the idiot said, and about whom. “In fact, make a note… Mr. Spock needs a talkin’-to about how his lack of adherence to medical authority sets a poor example for the other crewmen of this ship.” Leonard rocks forward on the balls of his feet and bounces slightly. “How soon can we fit that meeting into my schedule?”

“Leonard,” Christine tells him in an impressively serious voice, “two things: one, please do not embarrass Mr. Spock—it isn’t wise; and two, the fact is you are scarier when you don’t say anything.”

He drops back to his heels. “You want me to yell at people?”

“I would rather you didn’t. The clean-up is horrendous. But at this point, we—by which I mean your loyal, long-suffering staff—are accustomed to it.”

He cannot decide whether he is insulted or flattered. Time to stop talking about his poor people skills; it’s embarrassing. “I’m not certain how this conversation got off-track, Nurse.”

“Neither am I. Can we return to the part where you spoiled a surprise? Wait,” she gasps, “you don’t mean the award? Oh, Leonard, no.”

“Award?” he echoes. “Who’s getting an award?”

“You are,” Christine tells him, her fingers tightening on the PADD in her grasp.

He prudently puts some distance between them. She sort of looks like she wants to smack him with that device. “Do you mean to tell me all of the whisperin’ and stares and dire secrecy is over an award?” Then Leonard thinks about it, really and truly thinks. “…Wait, who would give me an award, Christine? And what in god’s name for?”

Christine lowers the PADD to her side. “I cannot believe you just asked me that question.”

“The question seems legitimate to me. Is it for perfect attendance?” He grins slightly at his own joke.

But Christine isn’t laughing. She is looking at him oddly again. “Doctor, what—exactly—did you mean by ‘spoiled’?”

Leonard hates to remember that. It isn’t a shining moment in his life, by far. Sighing, he admits, “The Captain and I argued, and I stuck my foot—well come to think of it, ankle, leg and all—in my mouth.” And in front of Spock, too, whose memory seems particularly tailored to record each and every of Leonard’s unfortunate failings as an illogical specimen known as a human being. “I told him I didn’t want the surprise.” The tears in the nurse’s eyes startle him. “Christine?”

“It’s nothing,” the woman replies, straightening and regaining her composure almost instantly. “I believe the ensign can wait. The first person you must apologize to is Captain Kirk.”

“I was afraid you would say that.”

“Why?”

“Because it means Spock’s actually got a decent head on his shoulders—and that he’s right. I am a jackass.”

Chapel’s mouth opens slightly in surprise. “Mr. Spock called you that?”

“How should I know? Is there a word for it in High Vulcan? Dadgummit, I knew that pointy-eared computer was badmouthing me!”

“I—” Christine starts to say, then falters. “I am leaving now.” She turns for the door with a shake of her head but, surprising Leonard, looks back at him. “Tomorrow is the announcement of the winner. We want you to win whether you think it’s foolish or not. Promise me you won’t spoil anything for anyone until then.”

“I can promise to try.”

“I suppose that’s good enough,” Christine replies with a faint smile. “If you can spare a half-hour or so, we could use your expertise in Lab 2.”

“Did somebody blow something up?”

“Doctor, this is Medical, not Engineering.”

He can agree to that, and does so wholeheartedly. “I’ll join you there shortly, Chapel. Let me check my messages first.”

She nods and leaves him alone in this office. Leonard eases into the chair behind his desk and pokes at the computer for some minutes. If, after giving a cursory attention to a ship-wide communication about inappropriate use of the cafeteria trays, he does a little ‘spying’ of his own and attempts to figure out the nature of the award he should be the recipient of, he does not mention his curiosity to anyone, especially his Head Nurse.

When the door to Jim’s quarters slides open, he isn’t surprised. He especially isn’t surprised when Leonard McCoy sticks his head in the room and says, “Knock, knock. Anybody home?” Then the doctor spies Jim and lifts a tray for Kirk to see. “I’d actually knock but as you can see my hands are otherwise occupied.”

Jim looks at the covered tray and raises his eyebrows. “I hope that’s not salad.”

McCoy comes into the room and sets the tray down on a table. “I wouldn’t expect a salad is an appropriate ‘I’m sorry’ gift.”

“It definitely isn’t,” Jim agrees. Appreciatively he holds the small glass up to the light to admire the color of the liquor after Bones hands it to him. “Where did you get this?”

“A good doctor may share his secrets but a rich doctor never does. Thankfully, I’m of the poorer variety. I picked it up from some trader named Jones on our last shore leave. Drink it slow now,” Leonard warns him. “It has a kick like a draft horse.”

Jim takes a tiny sip and still his eyes water. “You weren’t kidding!”

Leonard smiles and sips from an identical glass.

They spend a few minutes savoring the liquor in silence. Normally the silence would be more comfortable than it is at present but words hover at the back of Jim’s throat, as irritating as an itch between the shoulder blades. Once he is a third of the way through his drink, he sets it aside. Following the cue, McCoy lowers his glass to the table too.

What comes out of Jim’s mouth, however, are not the words he expected he would say. “I thought you might be Spock.”

His computer terminal beeps suddenly from the other side of the room. Jim stands and makes his way toward it.

“Hm, I can’t say I’m surprised you haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. This is really our fight, Jim. I imagine he’s been analyzing and re-analyzing the same should-I-or-should-I-not debate in his head since this morning. You know he doesn’t like to meddle in ‘human tiffs’ if it can be helped.” Leonard raises his glass again to cover his smile. “Lord knows, it might mean he has to suffer an emotion or two.”

Cutting a narrow look at his friend as he presses the speaker button, Jim answers the insistent beeping. “Kirk here.”

“Captain.”

“Speak of the devil,” mutters McCoy.

“Mr. Spock,” Jim acknowledges. “What can I do for you?”

“I intended to determine if you might be amendable to a game of chess at this time, but given that I can hear Dr. McCoy’s voice, I believe the offer is inopportune.”

If Jim has company, Spock hesitates to come by. Jim has to wonder if, on Vulcan, the number of invited guests in one visit is kept minimal by custom. Though it may simply be that Spock prefers to limit his interaction with humans during his free time. Jim resolves to figure this mystery out sooner rather than later.

“None of that now,” Leonard says at the speaker, having snuck up to stand just by Jim’s shoulder. “Come on over. I swear we’re not braiding each other’s hair.”

Jim chokes on a laugh. After a notable pause of silence from Spock’s end, he takes pity on his Vulcan friend and explains, “Bones means to say we aren’t doing anything of importance.” Bones open his mouth to protest and Jim silences him with a look. “See you in a minute, Commander.”

“In fifteen point two seconds, Captain. I am next door,” Spock corrects and disconnects the call.

Turning to watch McCoy, Jim asks “What are you doing?” even though he can guess.

“What it looks like—counting to fifteen. Damn it, Jim, now you’ve made me mess up!” Bones stops counting on his fingers. “Half the time I think he just spouts numbers to intimidate us.”

“You don’t look intimidated,” Jim remarks dryly, trailing back to the table. He considers the door Spock will come through at any second. “Is this still a fight?”

“I don’t know. Can you forgive a foolish old friend his folly? I didn’t mean anything I said, Jim.”

The door chimes to announce Spock’s arrival. Jim is smiling at Leonard as the Vulcan enters. “Me too, Bones.”

“Fact is,” the doctor goes on to say, raising his voice slightly as if Spock isn’t an arm’s length away, “I guess I’m honored.”

Eyebrow cocked, Spock graciously takes the bait. “Why is that, Doctor?”

Leonard smirks at him. “You must think I’m pretty wonderful to nominate me for an award.”

“Certainly we do, Bones,” Jim replies once he realizes Spock won’t deign to respond to that. He claps a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Besides, of those on the Enterprise, you’re the only one who’s eligible to win it!”

A strange look crosses Leonard’s face. “What?”

Spock, too, looks as near to pained as Kirk has ever seen him. “I believe, Jim, that was not the most tactful way to express our appreciation.”

“Bones already knows he’s the resident medical genius. Though I did ask Chapel if anyone else qualified as a candidate. It’s important to be fair,” he tells McCoy, sounding mildly apologetic.

“O-kay,” McCoy says too quickly, and Jim has the sudden realization that something has gone unexpectedly wrong. But Bones is already collecting his tray and the glasses. “Just realized I’m going to be late for an appointment. There’s this ensign I need to see to. He’s very anxious to be out of Sickbay.”

Jim looks, confused, to Spock for an explanation. Spock is watching McCoy but he says nothing.

Not until, that is, McCoy reaches the door. “Doctor,” Spock states in his even but instantly captivating tone, “a few individuals wish to gather in one of the recreational lounges to hear the name of the award’s recipient. Will you be present also?”

Leonard looks to Jim. “Am I needed there?”

“Not needed,” Jim answers, aware that he needs to be careful of what he says, though not why, “but we would be glad if you came.”

The doctor nods and leaves.

Jim turns to his officer and, more importantly, to his friend. “Did we miss something?”

Spock loosens the hold of his hands and allows them to rest at his sides. “Apparently so. Though what that ‘something’ is, Captain, I do not know.”

The Chief Medical Officer, eyes fixed downward, seems not himself as he tranverses the starship corridors. Many faces take note of this and wonder what could be troubling him so. Then they move along themselves, places to be and business to attend to.

“I don’t deserve it,” Leonard says in passing to Christine as he comes through the medical bay.

She stops mid-restocking of their tricorder cabinet to listen.

“There’s a reason I decline that kind of recognition.” He pauses at the corner of the table and looks her straight in the eyes, a frightening kind of pain in his own.

“Sir?”

“There’re things I failed to do, Christine, as a doctor, as a s—” He cuts off, swallows. “You don’t know, but I do. I’m sorry,” he tells her with real regret.

“Doctor?” Christine calls after him. “Leonard?”

He doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t come back.

I give up. Next part is definitely the end. Also, alluding to one of the movies here, if you know McCoy’s background.

Next Part

Related Posts:

• When Mischief is Afoot (5/5) – from December 3, 2012
• When Mischief is Afoot (3/4) – from November 19, 2012
• When Mischief is Afoot (2/3) – from November 12, 2012
• When Mischief is Afoot (1/2) – from November 6, 2012