0Title: Friendly Conspiracy (1/2)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy
Summary: When Jim told them to play nice, he didn’t actually expect them to do it.
As is typical aboard the starship Enterprise, many of the active shift personnel are gathered in the mess hall on their hour break. There is some low chatter among the occupied tables, and nothing stands glaringly out of the ordinary.
Earlier on, Jim Kirk had rousted Leonard McCoy from Sickbay so that they might dine together, coaxing his friend to the hall by saying if he eats without Leonard, he will not eat healthy. They pick their seating at a table with only a few other officers. Jim does not believe in the segregation by rank which exists on some ships and is wont to join whichever group he fancies at the moment; however he cannot deny that he and his senior staff tend to congregate together on the off-chance they are scheduled to work the same shift. He thinks this occurs because they are closely bonded by past ordeals and are, of a sort, family.
It does not surprise him, then, when he and McCoy are joined halfway through their meal by the most unsocial person on the ship. Spock is notorious for skipping mealtime altogether, which he claims is often an unwelcome distraction from his work. But it seems he has made an exception today. The conversations of the Mess halt momentarily at the commander’s entrance. Wisely people resume interest elsewhere since staring is rude, though a few of them continue to indulge in sidelong glances as the Vulcan procures his food and crosses the hall.
On the other hand, Jim thinks nothing of it. He points to an empty spot across from him. “Sit,” he orders.
Spock obeys.
Jim cuts a look at Leonard, who normally scowls whenever someone has the audacity to arrange it so that Leonard and Spock are sitting in very close proximity to one another. Strangely though, this time McCoy’s expression remains unperturbed.
Picking up his eating utensil, Jim returns his attention to his meal. He asks Spock about an ongoing project to restructure the Requisitions department, intending to encourage light conversation at the table. When the three men aren’t talking, the silence is fairly comfortable between them.
Jim gives an internal sigh with relief and picks up a glass of water.
At this moment Spock places his fork to the side of his table and turns to the person next to him. “Dr. McCoy,” he says, as if there is something of great significance about to be expressed and he requires the doctor’s full attention.
Leonard pauses mid-chew to return Spock’s stare. Both of his eyebrows go up in an inquiring manner.
A pleased little smile forms at the edges of Jim’s mouth. He hides it by sipping at his water.
Spock is, as always, matter-of-fact in his statements, no matter their content. “I am pleased to share this meal with you today.”
Kirk chokes.
Not taking his eyes off the Vulcan, Leonard slides a napkin across the table within reach of Jim’s hand. “That’s mighty nice of you to say, Mr. Spock. Thank you. I’m pleased too.”
“Whaaa—what?” coughs out their captain, still choking. He has to cover his mouth with the napkin to prevent a spray of food and spit.
Spock blinks placidly. “Thank you, Doctor. At your convenience, I would like to invite you to Science Laboratory 3-B. I believe there is a recent analysis of the isotonic effects of the amoeba-like creature we encountered last month which will interest you.”
Leonard’s eyes light up as he puts down his fork. “Sounds good. I’m finished eating, and it looks like you are too. Why don’t we go there now?”
They turn back to their trays, collect utensils, bowls and plates and lift the trays, standing up in tandem.
Jim swallows his next cough in order to cry, “Wait!”
“Captain?” remarks Spock with mild interest while Leonard just stares at Jim waiting for him to spit out whatever it is he has to say.
Jim realizes he has no right to pry into their business and no good reason to detain them. He rubs surreptitiously at his still watering eyes and says somewhat lamely, “See you on the Bridge.”
The Vulcan nods.
“Finish your vegetables,” orders Leonard. Then he follows Spock from the Officers’ Mess.
Jim looks at the spot where his two friends had been for a long time before asking, “What the hell just happened?”
The man at the opposite end of the table takes a bite of a large sandwich and chews it thoughtfully. “I dunno know,” comes the eventual reply, “but my horoscope did say something unexpected would happen today. By chance, are you a Capricorn too?”
With a roll of his eyes, Jim pushes away from the table.
Why is he fixating on this? It’s nothing—just his two friends maybe, possibly, however improbably, acting like they can get along. No, it’s more important to concentrate on the ship he has to run.
“Never mind,” he mutters to Scotty as he collects his tray. “I’ll be on the Bridge if anyone needs me.”
Then Jim Kirk, too, is gone.
Jim is not plagued by his own curiosity; he’s just bored. It’s with this excuse late during gamma shift that he ventures through the bathroom to quiz Spock on his terribly-interesting-to-medical-doctors experiment in Science Lab 3-B.
He makes certain to call ahead in warning. “Spock, are you there? Er, if Uhura’s with you, ask her not to hit me! I’m coming in any—” Just then the bathroom door slides open giving him a good view of the room. “—Bones?“
Leonard McCoy, seated at a round table, casts a look in Jim’s direction. “Oh, hey.”
Dumbfounded, Jim lingers on the threshold between Spock’s private cabin and bathroom. “Um, hey,” he replies back, unable to think of what else to say.
Apparently Leonard sees no need to explain his presence in the First Officer’s quarters. He and Jim exchange a stare in silence until the man turns back to the data padd in his hand. Jim can see him flipping through a journal.
“Spock?” Jim questions, taking a hesitant step forward.
“He was called down to Geology to take a look at some readings. If you want to wait, I’m sure he’ll be back shortly.”
Jim has never felt more awkward. “I should go?” He makes it a question.
“Okay,” replies the other man in a distracted tone. “I’ll tell Spock that you stopped by.”
“…Right.” Jim backs up, then, all the way into the bathroom and beyond to the safety of his own quarters. Once he is alone, he whispers at the closed door, “What is going on?“
No logical answer is forthcoming.
In case anyone ever asks, spying on one’s own ship is not against regulations. In fact, Jim is fairly certain because he is the Captain he is practically obligated to keep tabs on his crew.
This is why he has been lingering outside the main med bay for nearly an hour. As officers and staff pass him with curious looks, he pretends to contemplate a bulletin board that promotes flu vaccinations. He goes so far as to say to some of them, when they stare for too long, “Have you gotten this? No? Then you should.”
“Yes, Captain,” they always reply, then hurry on their way.
Currently there is a new pair of eyes on his back. Oh, these cute crewmen of his! Jim points at the bulletin. “Have you gotten this? You should. Captain’s orders!”
It is the head nurse who appears in his side view.
Jim has only a brief second to think, shit.
Christine smiles at him. “It’s a mandate for medical staff to stay current with their vaccinations, Captain Kirk…” Her pause is significant so that Jim can realize he has made a mistake of epic proportions. “…whereas I know that you have not been vaccinated. It seems a little hypocritical of someone to tell others to comply when he has not.”
“But… I’m the captain?”
“Of course you are, sir.” The nurse latches onto his command-gold tunic sleeve. “Come along. We have a hypo we’ve saved just for you.”
“But—”
They enter Sickbay with Christine calling out, “The Captain wants a flu shot!”
There is something telling about the way patients and practitioners alike look up in surprise or stick their heads around corners to ask “Is he really here?”
Then Dr. M’Benga, McCoy’s second-in-command, appears next to them without warning. “This is excellent news. Hello, Captain.”
Jim doesn’t like the way M’Benga snaps the material of one of his gloves as he speaks. “There’s been a mistake.”
“On the contrary, I believe there has been a miracle,” replies M’Benga in a dry tone.
Christine happily transfers Jim’s arm to the doctor. Jim considers this as evidence that Bones has the most frightening staff on the ship.
“Christine,” M’Benga tells her with the utmost professionalism as he directs Jim to a biobed in another area of the bay, “please inform Dr. McCoy the Captain has arrived for his flu shot, as well as for last week’s missed physical.”
When they are at the edge of the biobed, M’Benga gives Jim a polite little push but Jim stiffens. M’Benga’s second push is a little less polite. Jim locks his kneecaps.
“I have a thing to do,” he insists.
“You spent the last hour and a half in the corridor scaring away our business.”
“Medical is not a business, Dr. M’Benga.”
“Actually it is,” comes a new voice. Leonard enters the private room, followed by a familiar figure which stops just in the doorway.
“Spock,” Jim says with part accusation for his predicament and part plea for rescue.
Leonard nods slightly at M’Benga, who nods back and lets go of Jim. The man brushes past Spock on his way out of the room. Leonard’s hand takes the place of M’Benga’s on Jim’s arm. When he pushes on the arm, Jim sits down automatically. He flushes a moment later, realizing that he might be more conditioned than he thought.
“Doctoring is a business if you think about it. People want medical care, and we give it to them. It’s supply and demand, which on this ship can be provided within reason and according to Starfleet’s guidance.”
“Not everybody wants what you’re selling,” mutters Jim.
“Spoken like a true idiot,” replies Leonard fondly. “Spock? I’m sorry but I need to take care of this.”
“Of course, Doctor. Captain,” Spock adds from the doorway, “it is encouraging to see that you take your health seriously.”
While staring hard at his First Officer, Jim makes one last bid for freedom. “Don’t we have that… thing on the Bridge to take care of, Mr. Spock?”
The Vulcan merely lifts an eyebrow. “I am aware of no matter on the Bridge requiring our attention at this time, sir. However, in the event that I am incorrect,” and here Spock’s tone leaves no doubt that he knows Jim is lying, “I will request your release immediately.” To McCoy he says, “We should convene this evening to finish our discussion .”
“Sure, Spock.”
Spock turns and disappears into the main bay.
“Okay, what is it with you and—uh, Bones?” The hypospray Leonard is loading distracts him.
“I’m listening, Jim.”
Jim’s palms start to sweat. “To be fair, you’re making me a little nervous here. Why did you just pick up the largest hypospray on that tray?”
“Because it’s the one with your name on it.”
“No, seriously, why—ACK!” He slaps a hand to the spot on his neck where Leonard had just stabbed him.
There is a tiny satisfied curl to Leonard’s mouth. “That was vitamins. I’m sure you need them. Now we’ll take care of your flu shot. Hold still, this second one may sting.”
Jim groans, wondering if admitting defeat now would at least save him from the rest of what Leonard has planned.
As if his friend can read his mind, Leonard shakes his head slightly and tells his captain to suck it up. “Better to pay the piper now, Jim-boy. Maybe next time you won’t be so interested in sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“I was minding my own business—GAH, SHIT! Not in the same spot, Bones!”
“Infant.”
“Sadist!”
When Leonard turns away to reload the hypospray again (and seriously, how many shots does a guy have to endure as penance?), Jim stares at his back and wonders exactly what could have changed between Leonard and Spock. More importantly, to what end?
Sadly, his torture session in Sickbay wounds his pride as much as his poor neck, and so he escapes when he can, forgetting to ask.
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 2261.55. Star-charting has never been the most glamorous assignment for a federation ship but we recognize its purpose and our duty to fulfill it. I would like to note that I was lately informed by the ship’s psychiatrist that the crew has the earmarks of restlessness. I made it known that our schedule keeps us in this sector of space for one more week and I expect everyone onboard to stay on their best behavior until the last second of this assignment—and then I promised a shore leave soon after to relieve our cabin fever. Unfortunately, we have to rendezvous with the Gallant before we can scout any local resorts or stations to take leave. Things may turn a little hairy before then but I have faith in this crew. Barring that, I also have the ability to lock mischief-makers in the brig. Myself excluded, of course.“
A low chuckle is heard, which softens into a sigh.
“On a personal note, I am as ill-content as some of my crewmen. I feel that something strange is happening. Not dangerous, of course; simply unnerving. Relations between my First and my CMO are—good. For years, they have made an art of finding fault with each other over the simplest things. I know I’ve told them to try to work out their differences. Hell, I have even made that an order when in a particularly foul mood, and that generally shuts them up for a day or two. But this… this is different. I think they might be, that is maybe they are—I just don’t know. Damn. Why am I even talking about this in an official log? Stupid, Jim! Computer, delete the last thirty seconds of entry.“
Soon enough, Commander Spock and Dr. McCoy act as though they could be attached at the hip. During one beta shift, they are seen walking side by side along a busy corridor. Jim is traveling in the opposite direction and cannot help but notice that though the two officers are not conversing Leonard and Spock appear to be comfortable with each other.
Naturally he backtracks to follow them, sprinting that last meter or so in order to squeeze himself into the turbolift now occupied by his second-in-command and senior medical officer before the door shuts him out completely.
“Jim,” Leonard says upon seeing him, sounding baffled, “what are you doing?”
I want to ask you that, Bones. Jim lifts a hand and scratches at the back of his head, giving both Spock and McCoy a serene smile. “Changed my mind about my heading. I think I’ll go to the gym. Where is your destination?”
“The latest Botany exhibit,” replies Spock.
“Sulu’s got a new plant that he wants to show off,” Leonard adds with a touch of dry amusement. “Apparently she’s a real sweetheart.”
Jim is not fond of sentient plants, especially the kind that Hikaru Sulu befriends. The last time he had tried to pet a nice-smelling, colorful flower head named Gerturde, she screeched at him and riled up an army of vines to hang him upside down from the ceiling. It had taken the better part of a day and the entire department of botanists to coax the vines to release him. Every now and then Sulu still gives Jim this betrayed look of what did you do to my poor Gertrude?
No, he’s definitely not going to risk his skin for the sake of tagging along with his friends.
“Have fun,” he tells them. “Don’t piss off any of the ones with teeth.”
Spock says, “That would be your forte, Captain.”
Leonard grins between them and bobs on the balls of his feet. “We promise, Jim.”
Jim stays behind in the lift when the pair exits on the next deck; but as soon as the descent of the lift begins, he regrets his decision. Cursing himself in Klingon, he commands the lift computer to backtrack and hops out of the turbolift.
Leonard and Spock are standing there, waiting for him.
“Told you,” the doctor says smugly to the Vulcan.
Without reply, Spock locks his hands behind his back and turns away. His long strides carry him down the corridor at a quick pace. Leonard and Jim hurry to catch up.
Dr. McCoy has a Vulcan shadow, some of the crew take to whispering.
Jim Kirk hears this one day and begins to realize an overactive imagination isn’t at fault. Everyone else sees the change too.
“Personal Log, James T. Kirk. Stardate Confused.
Today Spock and Bones visited one of the rec rooms together. Spock had a lyre. Bones had a mint julep. I have asked the computer to track their whereabouts and route a report to my personal console. I’ve already pulled the last six months of history and analyzed it. My conclusion is two people who exist to repeal one another are in fact socializing outside of ship’s business on a regular basis and notably this change in behavior is recent. They have not argued—if Bones and Spock even disagree at all these days—in front any member of the crew in nearly three weeks.
Knowing this, I feel nervous for a reason I cannot explain. It would be foolish to claim that I did not wish for a reconciliation between my two dearest friends, yet it is remarkably unsettling to see it with my own eyes. Moreover, I may have to address it soon, if only to make them aware of the effect that this partnership has on the rest of us.
But what would I say when I remain undecided on the nature of this change myself?”
“Captain Kirk, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
From just inside an open doorway, Jim eyes the woman in science blues. His greeting is cautious. “Hello, Dr. Noel.”
Her smile never falters. “It’s Helen, sir. May I call you Jim?”
Feeling doubly wary, he says that she can.
Helen Noel, the Enterprise’s resident psychiatrist, gestures at a small sitting area which is part of her office. Jim takes a seat on the far end of a narrow couch and Helen joins him a moment later. She crosses her legs and folds her hands over one knee.
Jim has no liking for behavioral specialists. Some of this may be due to his past; some of it may simply stem from his discomfort in sharing anything about himself. But he tries to give Noel the benefit of the doubt because she is part of his crew—and his crew are the best at what they do.
He also desperately needs advice, which ironically he cannot get from either of his normal sources.
Jim clears his throat. He remembers Noel easily. They have interacted in meetings, on away missions and at social events; she has a fine sense of humor and pretty brown eyes that twinkle after a couple of glasses of wine. He had honestly hoped he would never have a need to see her during her office hours.
His explanation for the impromptu visit is not his smartest: “I have a question—just a question out of curiosity—that I thought you might have an answer to.”
“Ah,” the doctor murmurs. “Does this question concern yourself or others?”
He hesitates, uncertain. “Both?”
“How about this: I won’t ask for specifics. You can say Friend 1 and Friend 2.”
He frowns. “How do you know there were two friends?”
“Are there?” Helen replies in a mild tone. “And are they close friends of yours?”
Jim folds his arms and leans back. “I wouldn’t know that since we aren’t talking about anyone I am in contact with personally.”
“Yes, Captain.” She starts to smile again. “Now, Jim, what is your question?”
“Suppose,” he begins, glancing around her office, “there are two—two guys who don’t get along at all. They’re complete opposites. One is fiery and passionate; the other is coldly logical. One of them ignores rules that he doesn’t like, and the other feels obligated to follow them. One is human, and one is—” He stops abruptly and blinks at her. “—Tellarite.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Tellarites are by far the least logical species in this galaxy.”
Jim waves off her remark. “Basically these men are different in every way. They don’t agree on anything.”
“Hm.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means that I wonder if they really are so different.”
“Of course they are!”
“And is that why your Friend 1 and Friend 2 don’t get along? Do they argue so viciously it makes you wince? Do they claim that they cannot tolerate each other?”
“Yes.”
Helen gives a small huff. “Jim, why would you be friends with such radically different people? Surely you could not appreciate them both.”
He unfolds his arms and sits up. “It’s not like that. They’re good men. So maybe one’s too far left, and other is too far right but that… that just balances it all out, right?”
“Exactly,” the psychiatrist says. “Differences are never bad things unless we make them so, and I would bet that you’ve spent quite a lot of time trying to explain that.”
He catches himself nodding. “Okay, but why are you telling me this? Shouldn’t you be saying this to, I don’t know, others who exhibit this behavior?”
It’s only then that a hint of smugness shines through the woman’s demeanor. “Maybe I have.”
Jim looks at her. Then he looks some more. “Explain.”
Helen releases her knee and uncrosses her legs, sitting forward. “While I do have some autonomy in this profession, like every member of the medical staff I am still required to uphold patient confidentiality. You are an intelligent man, Jim; therefore I know you can appreciate my delicate position. But given that you are also the captain of this ship, I believe I have the liberty to say this to you: I have spoken with Friend 1 and Friend 2—or should I say Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock?—individually as well as together on a very similar subject.”
Jim sits back. “They came to see you?”
“Shouldn’t they? They are conscientious men who take their responsibilities on this ship and their friendship with you very seriously.”
“I… don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing to me if you like, but I do encourage you to speak with them.”
Jim almost bites down on his lip but thinks better of it. “Why?”
“Because you are uncomfortable when you see them associating without conflict. The fact is you are so discomforted that you felt you had to come see me.”
He doesn’t like this insinuation. “I’m fine with it. I’m ecstatic. It’s all I ever wanted!”
But the doctor only shakes her head. “You are a poor liar, sir. This change between Spock and McCoy means a change for you as well. You already anticipate that your friends will no longer need you to the same extent as before, and you may even fear some of their affection for you will wane to accommodate their newfound friendship.”
Jim stands up, the muscles of his jaw working. He wants to say that she’s wrong but then he would be a liar.
Helen does not rise to meet him. From her chair, she advises, “Talk to them. Address the issue before it festers into misunderstanding. This friendship which your officers are putting forth the effort to cultivate—and which I promise you is a struggle for them—is borne of a desire to appease you. You should acknowledge that if nothing else, Jim.”
“That will be all, Dr. Noel.”
“Yes,” she agrees with a decisive nod, “it will. Good day, Captain.”
Jim is at a disadvantage of having to walk away from a battle he knows he lost. It grates against him as he goes but once he is outside Noel’s office his anger softens.
What did Bones and Spock do? And for him?
The man sighs through his nose.
Damn Helen for being right. He may just need to give her a commendation for her good sense—after, of course, talking to his friends proves to have positive results.
Well, this was going to be a funny one-shot – and then it wasn’t. I really need to stop doing this to myself.
Related Posts:
- Friendly Conspiracy (2/2) – from July 24, 2014
