Jim's Private Room

McCoy glared down at his best friend. "What the hell were you thinking, Jim?" he growled cleaning the wound out, ignoring the winces.

"It wasn't exactly my choice to get shot down there, Bones!" he whined.

"I'd prefer it if you didn't get shot. Did you know I've officially named this your private room? And your green blooded hobgoblin's private room is right next door? Christ on a cracker, the two of you are the worst patients I've ever had."

Jim sighed. "I was warned, and I tried to get out of the way and failed. I'm sorry."

McCoy ran the dermal regenerator over it. "There. I want your arm in a sling for at least a day. But you're good to go. I'll go get the sling, you stay right here."

Pock passed Dr. McCoy as she made her way to Jim's room.

She'd been caught up in doing paperwork, and this was the first chance she'd had to see Jim since he'd been taken to Sickbay. As the doctor passed her, she met his eyes.

"He's in there," the man grumbled.

Pock nodded.

Without further ado, she moved into Jim's room, stepping slowly through the doorway.

"Jim," she said curtly in greeting.

He smiled up at his partner. "Hey, Pock," he said, a brilliant smile gracing his face. The smile faded slightly at her curt tone.

She moved closer to his bed, meeting his eyes. Her lips were a hard, firm line across her face. Her eyes betrayed her, though, holding none of the apathy she'd hoped for and all too much of the tell-tale affection she held for the man before her.

"Are you feeling well?" she asked. Her tone was just a bit softer, but not by much.

It was not necessarily that she was upset with him (though she was - he'd gotten himself into this due to his own inability to bite his tongue). It was more that she could not forget just how frightened she had been as she'd seen him stumble back, blood spraying slightly from the wound where it had impacted him. She could not abandon her memories of the hollow horror that had spread through her instantaneously, leaving her gutted and numb and believing him dead.

She did not like that fear. She did not like it at all.

So it was not he who had upset her, really: it was the way he made her feel.

Jim looked into her eyes, biting back a smile at the clear affection that lay there. "I'm fine. Already healed. Bones just wants me in a sling for a day because he's a worry-wart." He let the smile loose. His voice lowered, so that no one but her could hear him. "I promise. I'm fine. I didn't die."

"I had deduced your living status for myself," Pock said dryly. She stepped forward and took a seat in the chair beside his bed. She crossed her legs comfortably, her back rigid against the back of the chair. "You are alive, by no effort of your own. Next time you opt to insult an entire race, Captain, perhaps it would be best to ensure beforehand that they are not armed."

Jim wanted to do nothing more than sigh. "I didn't insult them. I insulted the Klingons. How was I to know that the Klingons had given them phasers though?" he asked. He pouted up at her, eyes observant as they trailed over her face. The little line between her eyebrows had disappeared, though if you knew what to look for. "Are you okay?" he asked. "No one else was injured, were they?"

She shook her head.

"No," Pock replied. "Aside from Ensign Mendez and Ensign Barrows, who were killed at the paramount of the firefight, you were the only other injured before Uhura and I managed to stun the chieftan and his party."

At his second question, her reply was perhaps a bit too quick. "I am adequate, Captain, all things considered."

Jim thought about the condolence letters he'd have to write later that night and sighed. "Good to hear." He sighed again. "I'm glad you're okay though," he said looking up at his partner. He narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Pock sighed.

"I do not see the logic in repeating myself," she said irritably, though there was a distinct exhaustion to her voice that took away some of its power. "If I was not certain of my condition, I would have taken more time to process it before replying. As I have already assured you of my status, I believe you should take me at my word."

An awkward silence elapsed that left a cold stone in the pit of Pock's stomach. Jim did not deserve this treatment. It was cruel of her to subject him to it without merit. "I apologize," she said quietly. "That was unwarranted."

Jim pulled away slightly. "No, it's fine," he said, voice odd. He wasn't offended. He was, however, worried about his partner. The awkward silence fell again. "I shouldn't have asked again. I should have taken you for your word."

"No," Pock said. "Accept my apology. I was wrong to say those things."

It was obvious that her lack of transparency was negatively affecting their interactions, and therefore she deemed it illogical to continue operating on that basis. Instead she took a different approach.

"I believe I am merely tired. My body had an intensive adrenal response when I had believed you seriously injured or deceased, and it is natural for the body to become rather exhausted after such an uptake in adrenaline production. Again, I apologize for my behavior."

Jim nodded slowly. "I accept you apology," he murmured. "I'm sorry I scared you, Pock." Anything else he would have said, was cut off by the entrance of Bones again, carrying a sling.

"Give me your arm," the doctor grumped, already hooking the sling over Jim's neck. Knowing that it was no good to fight him, Jim held out his arm. McCoy put hooked his arm in. "Okay, keep it in the sling until tomorrow. And you're on medical leave for the rest of the day. I want to see you before shift, to make sure everything's healing up properly." He turned to Pock. "Make sure he makes it back to his quarters and not the Bridge. I don't care if you have to sit on him to make him stay, just make sure he doesn't go back up to the Bridge."

"Bones..." Jim whined.

"Don't you 'Bones' me, brat. I don't want you tearing anything. Now, you two stop cluttering up my sick bay, an' get outta here."

Pock nodded at Bones in acceptance of his orders. "Of course, Dr. McCoy."

She smirked at Jim's protests. He was so predictable. It was even more predictable that Dr. McCoy would respond in the way he did, shaking his head as he stomped out of the room, mumbling something about "Damn kids!"

She shifted so that she was facing Jim again.

"I have been ordered to accompany you to your Quarters and ensure you stay there," she said briskly.

Jim's head fell back against the pillow with a groan. "I'm well enough to go back on duty!" he called after Bones.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed. "...Fine. Let's go..."