elliewood | Fic: Companion, Chapter 38: Bones (10)

There have been times when I've been so exhausted, usually by long shifts at work but sometimes by other things too, that I've prayed for the chance to just put my dogs up and lie in bed all day, nothing to do but read my PADD and drift in and out of sleep, knowing that there's absolutely nothing that needs done and nobody that needs caring for, getting shitloads of rest.

Well, the hell with that. After doing nothing but lying in bed for the past 24 hours, I've never been so goddamned tired in my life.

I felt pretty good when I woke up after the surgery they did to put my skull back together, thanks to the meet-your-maker pain meds I was pumped up on. But once they wore off, and after Nyota left for the night, my face was hurting too much let me sleep, and I didn't want to ask the night nurse for more meds -- I know how easy it is to ramp up and out of control on that junk. So I lay awake for long stretches, itching to turn on my side but not being able to, and marking the time by listening to the sounds of the ward. It's funny how you never really lose the sense of the rhythm of a hospital, even if you're not on shift, to the point that, even if I did eventually fall asleep, I would jolt awake every hour on the hour, just before the nurse would come in to check my vitals and initial my chart. So by morning rounds at 07:00, I felt as bone-weary as if I hadn't slept at all.

But I perked up when the new attending on the floor came in to check on me. It had been several years since I'd last seen Mark Piper, but I'd recognize his disheveled bulk anywhere. Mark's as slovenly as Boyce is neat, and he has absolutely none of his polish, but I remember him as being sympathetic, honest, and a damn fine physician to boot. I do have to say, I think he could stand to steal a starched lab coat from Phil's closet; there's something about that fat white stomach sticking out from under a scrub top that's none too appealing.

"Leo! What the hell are you doing in here?" He shook my hand with sincerity, another thing Boyce was lacking. After reading my chart, he answered his own question. "Hmph. Got knocked on your ass, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Exactly like that," he rumbled. "Says here you were out for two hours while they patched your face back together, and then you didn't wake up for another hour and a half after that. Sounds like you need to stay in here for at least one more day, son."

Another day in isolation, not knowing how Jim was doing, if Spock was able to keep him under wraps...I groaned in genuine dismay. "Mark, please. It's killing me to be in here. I've got someone to stay with me and keep an eye on me for the next few days, so can't you just let me go? Professional courtesy?"

He tapped the PADD with a stubby finger. "Tell you what. I'll release you if you promise to take a full two weeks off. Don't show your face around here until those black eyes are back to normal and check in with me in a week's time. Sound like a good deal to you?"

I nodded, but I could sense there was something else.

Mark leaned on the foot of my bed, frowning at the PADD. "Says here Phil Boyce was the one who took a swing at you. What'd he do that for?"

I shrugged. "Didn't like my call on a patient of his. I discharged him, he disagreed, I disagreed back, he decked me. End of story."

"Hell of a story, Doctor. Don't take you for the disagreeing type."

"We all have our moments."

"Hmph." He tapped the PADD again. "Who was the patient?"

I thought I could trust Mark, but I'd thought I could trust Phil, too. I tried to sound nonchalant.

"Captain Jim Kirk. He'd already been here over two weeks and was raring to go, so I cut him loose. Phil took it personally."

"I read his notes. Says he thinks Kirk's recovery was a little too rapid. Thought something wasn't quite on the up and up."

I had started to frown as I wondered why an attending would note suspicions like that on a patient's chart when the thought bubbled up...If Piper already knew the patient in question was Jim, why did he just ask me for his name?

I forced the frown into nonexistence as my own suspicions grew. Mark was waiting for a response, so I played the only card I had.

"That might could be. Mr. Spock performed a mind-meld with the captain before we got him down to Medical. I don't know how that would affect his recovery time, but I wouldn't bet against it speeding things up a bit."

Mark raised his eyebrows at that but didn't comment as he scribbled on the PADD. "Maybe."

I waited, hoping the look on my face was an honest one.

"All right, Leo, let's get you out of here." Mark hung the PADD back on the wall and hitched up his scrubs. "Can someone pick you up after 1600?"

"I'll comm her now."

***

By the time we walked through Nyota's front door, I was more than ready for one of those little red pills rattling in my pocket. It must have showed.

"Go lie down. I'll bring you something in a minute."

"Something" turned out to be a bowl containing equal parts mashed potatoes and baked beans and a glass of sweet tea that made one of those pills go down pretty easy. Half an hour later, pleasantly full and reasonably comfortable, I could feel myself heading for the first real sleep I'd had in weeks.

She pulled my shoes off, turned down the covers, and helped me underneath, sliding in next to me and tucking her head under my arm. Her hand on my chest was light and warm.

She caught sight of my left hand. "What happened to your ring?"

I held my hand up so we could both see it, the paler indentation on the little finger still visible amid the puffiness and bruising Jim had caused the other morning, when they left.

"Jim fucked up my wrist, sprained it pretty bad. They had to cut the ring off because my hand swelled up so big."

"Do you still have it?"

I fumbled around in my pants pocket and found it lying hidden beneath the bottle of little red pills. I pulled both of them out and handed her the ring, its circle broken nearly in the center of the band.

She turned it over in her fingers as she tried to read the inscription inside. "Whose initials are these? And...a date?"

I nodded. "That's for our baby, Jocelyn's and mine, the one we lost."

I felt her freeze in dismay and squeezed her with my other arm to reassure her, my head getting heavy and warm as the drugs kicked in.

"It's okay. Maybe later you can come with me to get it fixed, if you know a good place."

She was silent for several minutes, then reached over me to put the ring on the bedside table before settling back down next to me and burying her face in my side. Her voice when she next spoke was muffled, thick with tears.

"How did you get through it?"

I was spiraling down into a place where the pain was dulling, nearly absent, and I could answer her truthfully.

"We didn't."

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