Title: When Mischief is Afoot (5/5)
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 | 4
Or read at AO3

The fateful day arrives. Personnel in Medical are tossing smiles at each other and making light jokes. The Enterprise’s resident botanists are skillfully creating exotic bouquets that they planned a week in advance. It is said there is already a small pre-party going on in Shipboard Services, particularly those of Housekeeping and Maintenance, since the workers figure they’ll be the ones cleaning up after the real party. If Klingons were to attack in that moment, the warrior race would be too disgusted by the shameful weakness of their enemy to be so cheery and would seek a bloody battle elsewhere.

Leonard is not so cheerful. In fact, he is not certain how he is going to maintain the pretense of a positive attitude when his heart still hurts as badly as it did the day before. This isn’t the fault of anyone, he knows, pouring himself the last of the liquor from a small decanter. It’s his problem. Some painful personal experiences he will always keep close to his breast, never telling a soul. They will have to be taken from him by force.

The man comes to the conclusion he does not have a choice in the matter of this ‘award’. He cannot bring unhappiness to others when it isn’t deserved. He must bear up. If he can focus on the intent of the gift-giving rather than the nature of the gift itself, it could be possible to put aside his inner turmoil.

He is pleased that the crew is thinking of him. He is grateful to be the recipient of such strong faith. The rest must not matter. Caring for others’ hearts more than his own, Leonard would, in any other circumstances, see this day through. So that is what he must do now.

Resolved, McCoy empties what is left in his glass into his bathroom sink and digs through a personal medkit for a detox hypospray. Then it will be a shower and cleaning up the rest of himself so it is never known he spent a restless night reliving old memories that still have the power to hurt.

“Do we have the broadcast system up?”

Uhura taps her stylus against the PADD in her hands, waiting on the ensign’s reply. He is the newest addition to her communications team and shows promise. But if he can’t manage a simple re-wiring of the lines…

“Yes, ma’am!” the ensign says, beaming. “I set her up last night and tested all the connections myself.”

“Good work,” Uhura praises as he brings the system online to prove his claim. She checks one item off her to-do list and moves on to another section of the large room.

“Mr. Scott!” she calls, pleased to see the man in question in the rec room so early to help with some of the event preparations.

“Ah, how lucky I am to hear such a lovely voice in the mornin’,” replies Montgomery Scott, turning from his conversation to greet her with a wide grin.

Uhura smirks and raps his chest with her stylus. “Careful what you wish for, mister.”

His grin widens. They share of a silent moment of great affection for one another before one of the men from Scott’s group clears his throat. “Er, do you want us to check those fixtures now, Mr. Scott?” the young man asks, face red as if he feels embarrassed.

“Aye, lad,” the head engineer agrees amiably. Immediately, not just the one ‘lad’ but all of them scurry away into the melee of people hanging banners and setting up tables. Scotty indicates the snack bar with the inclination of his head. “How about a drink, my lady?”

“It’s too early for that, Mr. Scott,” she admonishes him. Then, softening her expression at his disappointment, “…But I suppose we might take a short break and enjoy some orange juice.”

They walk together to the snack bar, run by a lone lieutenant from the kitchens who has put himself in charge of making certain the hard-working party planners have breakfast.

“Who’s responsible for gettin’ the doctor here?” Uhura’s companion wants to know as they take two empty seats at the bar.

“That would be the Captain and Mr. Spock,” she replies, making a quick note on her list. “Kirk was disappointed that he missed most of the planning committee’s strategy meeting due to the… unexpected shuttle incident.”

Scotty chuckles. “Aye, that Dr. McCoy… Didn’t surprise me at all.”

She has to wonder at that; then again, Montgomery and Leonard have become fast friends, no doubt because they are the closest in age among the officers.

Being on the Bridge at the time their CMO showed up, wobbling through space in a shuttlecraft and giving Mr. Spock’s eyebrows fits, she couldn’t figure out what possessed the man to do something so outrageous. Then Uhura realized later that McCoy was onto their Operation, at least in some respect, and he was being vocal about it in his own way. She has to give him points for getting their attention so spectacularly.

“I suggested to the Captain,” she continues on, “that if he wanted to help, we would need a way to lure McCoy in at the right moment. So he volunteered himself and Mr. Spock. Apparently,” she adds, amused, “the Captain believes he is ingenious enough to accomplish the task.”

“More like sneaky enough.”

“Exactly.”

Montgomery, smile playing about his mouth, takes a dramatic swig of his orange juice. “Well, lass, no one ever told me it was dull on a flagship.”

“Dull it definitely is not,” she agrees and raises her glass of orange juice. The Chief Communications Officer and Chief Engineer toast each other and spend a pleasant ten minutes chatting about nothing in particular. It is, in their opinion, going to be a good day.

Jim Kirk is up early thinking about a potential problem. Jim’s First Officer is up earlier since the Vulcan rarely goes to bed at all, it seems, and so Jim calls Spock over to discuss what they need to do. “I guess we don’t have to kidnap McCoy after all,” he says.

“I do not believe I agreed to that plan, Captain.”

Jim gives his friend a sharp look. “There are times when one must do what is necessary, Mr. Spock, though it may seem like an extreme course of action.”

Spock murmurs something about kidnapping a senior officer being a very extreme course of action in regards to the circumstances. Jim ignores him and curls his fingers into a fist on the table where he is seated.

“I’m not convinced,” he voices his concern, “that McCoy will show.”

“The doctor did give his word.”

“I know that, Spock, but you saw his reaction. There’s something we overlooked when we began this.” He thumps his fist softly against the tabletop but it does nothing to ease his frustration.

“Perhaps,” Spock says gently, “it is not an oversight on our part but a lack of information.”

Jim gives the thought momentary consideration but ends up back at an argument he can’t seem to let go. “I don’t see what would make Bones unhappy about receiving the recognition he deserves for all of his hard work in his field. He saves lives, Spock. Nobody can look down on that!”

“‘Let the motive be in the deed and not in the event,'” quotes the friend at Jim’s side.

Jim narrows his eyes but stays quiet, knowing the Vulcan has more to say.

“One such as Dr. McCoy considers his work as a duty, not a means to an end. Do you require accolade to perform your function as a captain proficiently?”

“No, but I certainly don’t think it a bad thing if the praise is deserved.” In fact, he would rather hear, just once, someone from Command say good work, Jim—thanks for not letting our enemies destroy everything we see stand for. But he wouldn’t shirk his duties knowing there was no reward waiting for him. It’s enough that Jim knows his crew appreciates him and what protection he can provide. The rest doesn’t matter.

Spock steeples his fingers thoughtfully. “I would suggest, then, that the doctor does not believe the praise is deserved.”

Jim tries very hard to fathom that, and finds he cannot. He’s rather flabbergasted by the idea. However, he is well-aware of what their limitations are at this point in time. “We can’t push him about it,” he says grimly.

“Indeed, we cannot.”

“Then we’ll simply have to convince him little by little, starting today.”

Spock lifts an eyebrow. “The task may require some time and effort.”

Jim smiles. “Do you doubt my abilities, Spock?”

“I do not doubt you will utilize every available resource to pursue the task to its very end.”

“Great! We will call this Operation II, to commence immediately until such time as the end goal is achieved!” Jim stands up from his chair and briefly claps a friendly hand upon Spock’s shoulder. “I’m glad we had this conversation, Commander.”

Spock, for his part, simply sighs through his nose and follows his commanding officer from the room.

“Well, this is something,” Leonard remarks admiringly at the brightly lit, decorative rec room from between his two escorts. He cuts his eyes at Jim and lowers his voice. “You didn’t have to swing by Sickbay and pick me up. I was planning on comin’.”

“It was on our way, Bones,” his friend replies, not looking at him, and steps away from their little group to return a greeting from a pretty-faced psychologist named Helen Noel. Leonard met her at the official welcoming when she joined the crew some months previous.

Seeing the subtle shift in Jim’s body language and hearing the ‘charm’ enter his voice, Leonard doesn’t dare interfere. He eyes Spock on his right instead. “What’s your excuse?”

“I have no excuse, Doctor, because I am not in need of one.”

“Of course not,” he responds dryly. “Why don’t we leave Jim to his…”

They eye Jim and the dark-haired woman.

“Why don’t we just leave?” McCoy finishes.

Spock is already heading toward the other end of the room. Leonard hurries after him.

“Mr. Spock!” Uhura exclaims upon seeing the Vulcan. Seated upon a small stage with a few other crewmembers, she lowers her instrument and asks, “Will you be joining us?”

“Shortly, Lieutenant,” Spock tells her. “I would see Dr. McCoy settled comfortably first.”

“I’ll need a drink to get comfortable,” Leonard mutters at Spock’s back.

“I did not assume otherwise, Doctor.”

“Hobgoblin,” he retorts, rather childishly pleased. The two officers skirt the crowd for the snack bar and wait their turn at the counter.

“You must expand upon your repertoire of insults, Dr. McCoy, or I fear the term, so frequently repeated, will lose its intended effect.”

It seems it already has, Leonard thinks, watching Spock order him a mint julep. He is grinning unabashedly when Spock turns around to hand off the drink to him.

Spock doesn’t dare ask him about the grin. Apparently he understands Leonard well enough by now to know better. Such a shame!

Leonard takes a sip of the mint julep and makes a noise of approval. Then he waves the Vulcan away. “You’ve done well. Go on, go to your harp or whatever it is.”

“A lute, Doctor.”

McCoy shuffles to an empty bar stool, sits, and pointedly turns his back to Spock. He feels Spock’s eyes lingering on him and waits patiently until the sense that he is alone returns. He leans forward, planting his elbows on the bar, and slides the drink away from him. It would look bad, wouldn’t it, if he put his head in his hands?

Somebody would tattle, surely. The man of the hour isn’t supposed to look miserable. Then Leonard wouldn’t be left alone for the rest of the evening.

“Leonard,” a feminine voice calls his name.

He looks around to see Christine at his shoulder.

“May I join you?” she asks.

He nods. “Want something?” He lifts his hand, prepared to catch the attention of one of the barmen.

Christine sets a nearly full delicate crystalline glass down upon the counter. “No thanks. I’ve already been plied with wine.”

He perks up, interested. “By who?”

Chapel’s cheeks turn slightly rosy. “…The ensign you kicked out of the bay yesterday.”

“First he disobeys a direct set of orders, and now he’s tryin’ to date one of my nurses? Lord, that man is a fool! Where is he?” Leonard growls.

Christine pokes his arm. “Don’t you dare.”

Leonard mutters a rude name or two under his breath. There will be time enough later to find the ensign. He’s pretty sure he can concoct something that will be suitably undetectable in the bloodstream which can help him discover the young man’s intentions towards Christine. If ever there was a time to use his powers for evil…

“You’re brooding,” Chapel accuses him.

He rolls his eyes. “I am not.”

“You promised, Leonard.”

He looks away. That was before I knew anything, he doesn’t say. I’m the real fool here. Taking a swallow of his drink, Leonard says, “I know I did.”

“Do you want to tell me why you’re against it?” the woman at his side asks softly.

“I’m sorry, Christine, but I can’t talk about that.” He takes a shallow breath, admits, “I won’t.”

She is quiet for only a heartbeat. “…All right.”

His shoulders slump with relief.

A wave of excited voices rises from the main room, echoing into the snack bar and turning the patrons’ heads. Christine tugs at his arm with a sudden insistence. “Oh, it’s time! Hurry, we might miss it!”

Leonard would love to miss it. He really would.

She won’t let him. They return to the very middle of the recreational room without delay as if people are moving aside for them, where a large screen built into the far wall flickers to life. Leonard looks at the faces around him, in many states of excitement, varying degrees of hope shining in their eyes, and feels his heart clench. It takes him a moment to realize those faces next to him are his people, his doctors and nurses and lab technicians and administrative staff—almost the entirety of the Medical department. They’ve formed a group around him, enclosed him in the center of their circle.

He cannot help but turn to the screen, drawn by their sense of anticipation.

The Surgeon General of Starfleet Medical is looking back at them from a podium in an auditorium Leonard remembers well from his days on the San Francisco campus. The man is speaking, and though the words of the transmission are clear enough despite the Enterprise’s monumental distance from Earth, what Leonard hears is a blur over the sound of the pounding in his ears—until the Surgeon General’s mouth shapes Leonard’s name, says it as clear as day.

Cheers erupt. People laugh, people cry. Leonard sways on his own feet and feels himself being propped up. Someone takes him into their arms and hugs him tightly. He clings, not knowing what else to do. He is let go and immediately passed around for more hugs. Everyone keeps saying his name.

The physical contact steadies him like nothing else could. Leonard feels the joy in each embrace and instinctively opens his heart to it. He thinks he’s crying but he isn’t the only one so that’s okay.

“Enough, enough!” a voice shouts. “Don’t hog him—Bones!“

Jim has wormed his way into the crowd of suddenly possessive medical personnel, undoubtedly with a few surreptitious elbow jabs here and there. Kirk grins at Leonard, as proud as McCoy has ever seen him, and catches his shoulders in a fierce hold.

“Bones, congratulations!”

“Jim,” Leonard manages weakly on his second try to speak, “this wasn’t necessary…”

“Of course it’s necessary,” his friend insists and pulls him into his arms. “You are very necessary to all of us, Bones,” Jim whispers to Leonard as they hug. “Congratulations. One of the best men aboard my ship.”

“We’re all good men,” Leonard says as they break apart. He sees Uhura demanding her turn and Christine, hands on her hips behind Sulu and Scotty, and corrects, “Good men and women.” He pauses. “And Vulcan.”

“Quite tactful, Doctor,” a voice rumbles almost right in his ear.

Leonard pulls away from the next person in line wanting to latch onto him, who is—damn it!—that sneaky ensign (how in blazes did he get over here?), and looks behind him. “Oh, Jesus, did I hug you, Spock?”

Several people around him grin.

Spock murmurs beneath the noise of the generally happy chaos, “It need not be announced.”

Leonard thinks about it for a split second and sniffs, holding out his arms. “I don’t remember doing it… so it doesn’t count. C’mere.”

Spock’s eyes widen a tiny, tiny fraction.

“Jim!” Leonard cries as the Vulcan prudently steps behind one lieutenant then another and begins to slowly disappear into the crowd. “Don’t let him get away!”

But Jim is laughing too hard into his sleeve to be of any use.

Well, damn, Leonard thinks. And he was just starting to believe this award business might become fun!

The End

Related Posts:

• When Mischief is Afoot (4/5) – from November 28, 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