Star Trek Winter Gift Exchange
For @rizuno I'm sorry this is so short I forgot I signed up for this. Enjoyed writing it though! I hope you like it.
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“Dammit, Jim, I wish you’d keep your damn shirt on for once.” McCoy griped, trotting to keep up with the hover-gurney as it whirred out of the transporter room and down the corridor toward the medbay. Crewmembers paused to watch them go by, the captain– injured, the only one to return from that disastrous trip to the surface– his first officer, and the chief medical officer.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Bones, the next time I’m tortured.” Jim struggled to speak through the swelling in his– surely broken– jaw. It mostly came out a wheezing slur. Bruising mottled his bare skin, purple-black disappearing under the waistband of his black trousers, dirty and torn and blood-stained. His muscular chest and arms were criss-crossed with lacerations. He was missing a boot and his right knee was dislocated. Most concerning, however, was the deep puncture wound in his abdomen. The bleeding was mostly contained, but internal damage was likely. “Spock-”
“Mr. Scott has already taken the ship to warp, Captain. He did so as soon as it was confirmed you were aboard.” Spock said, finishing the unspoken thought. Then, he added, “Perhaps you shouldn’t speak. It will only exacerbate your injuries.”
“Exactly.” McCoy
This time, Jim only waved a hand, his brown eyes fluttering shut, then reluctantly opening again. It seemed the hypo he’d been given just before beaming aboard was finally kicking in. More likely, Spock thought, he’d stopped fighting it.
“I’ll need to see you, too,” McCoy said as they rounded the last corner to the medbay. When Spock arched one delicate eyebrow in question, he made a sharp gesture to the scorch mark tearing through the uniform on his left shoulder; Jim’s own phaser, taken earlier and used against him during the rescue attempt. It oozed green blood.
Frankly, Spock had forgotten it was even there, having determined the pain trivial to what his captain was going through, and compartmentalizing it away. Even now, it was hardly more than a hot pang, dull in comparison to the ache in his heart.
“I assure you, Doctor, I am fine.” He registered the door to the medbay sliding open, Nurse Chapel’s mouth forming an “O” of surprise and dismay. The clamor of medical supplies as she hurried to pull them from shelves and drawers. But it faded to a background blur when McCoy triggered the manual setting on the hover-gurney and stepped to take control of it, to draw it away. Away from him.
Spock’s hand shot out, snatched McCoy’s wrist, over the fabric of his uniform. Gripped it like a vise.
They both looked down. McCoy was the first to look up.
“Jim is bleeding and injured.” He said, very evenly, clearly fighting to keep the strain from his voice. “If you don’t let go right now, you’ll be in the ground right next to him.”
Immediately, Spock let go. “Apologies, Doctor.” He said carefully.
McCoy scoffed, rubbing at his wrist. “You have a minute with him, while I get ready.” Then he muttered something– Spock caught “lovestricken” and “hobgoblin”-- and strode off, snapping something at Nurse Chapel.
Spock went to his captain’s side.
Jim was awake, only barely. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead and his skin was pale. But a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips as Spock took his hand, bare skin to bare skin, and squeezed it.
“Thanks for the save,” he murmured.
“Always, Captain.” Spock said simply. He opened his mouth to add something, but it was at that moment McCoy came and shooed him from the medbay. All that was left for him to do, then, was return to the bridge and relieve Mr. Scott of his command. He could argue with McCoy over his injured shoulder later, once Jim was safely in recovery.
