Title: Five Times Bones Picked Up The Pieces of Jim, and the One Time It Was Spock
Fandom: ST XI
Characters: Kirk, Bones, Spock
Warnings: Medical grossness
Notes: For the crackmeme. I hadn’t written any sick!Kirk yet, so this was a perfect opportunity.
From this prompt:
I know its overdone, but I need me some Sick!Kirk with either spock or bones loving, Allergies are awesome too. Maybe a 5 + 1 fic because im ADDICTED. Please and thank you. =p
"Jim, have you done the laundry, this week? This month, even?" Bones was at it again — never a moment of peace, when you bunked with a doctor, Jim had learned.
"Why do you even care?"
"Aside from the part where I can smell it in the hall? Possibly, because I took one of your socks to the lab, today, just to see what was on it, and I’m pretty sure you have a nasty case of tinea pedis. That’s athlete’s foot, Jim. That is, in the twenty-third century, an extremely unlikely happenstance. People don’t get things like that, any more." The doctor looks entirely horrified. "I had your sock decompiled by the replicator."
"Man, you did what to my sock? I need those! I only have like six pairs — five. Now, I have five and a half." Jim is outraged and — no, just outraged, really.
"Just answer me some quick questions, and we’ll put this to rest. I’ll get you some new socks, Jim." Bones leans on the doorframe, hands in his pockets. "Your feet peel all the time? Cracking and maybe bleeding between your toes?"
"Yeah. Of course. Mom always said it was because I didn’t drink enough water, and I sure haven’t been getting enough since I came here. I keep getting distracted by things like, I dunno, studying."
"And girls. Right." Bones shakes his head. "Look, your mom was wrong, Jim. I hate to impugn the integrity of anyone’s sainted mother, yours included, but she was dead wrong. And you might have given it to other people. Congratulations. You’re vector zero."
Jim’s still staring, open mouthed, unable to form complete sentences, even in his head. He had a nearly extinct disease, and he’d given it to other people? No, that was — but he — Fffffuuuuuck.
"I can take care of this." Bones reaches into his pocket, and Jim leaps backward.
"You stay away from me with that hypospray!"
The hand comes out. "Hey, calm down. It’s a pill. Just swallow the pill."
Jim snatches the pill and gulps it down, watching Bones for suspicious movements, but the doctor just tells him to sit down, in case he gets dizzy. Of course, Bones has just slipped him a sedative, and the doctor’s more than content to hyposray the patient in his sleep.
So, that stint on Delta Vega? Yeah, it turned out that he could’ve done without that. Turns out that dysentery can survive in ice for months, even years, at a time. Jim Kirk was not the first person to get stranded on Delta Vega, it would appear. That, or those ice monsters were nasty because they all had the shits. Either way, dysentery was something he could’ve done without, and he thanked random gods from the cultural database, every time he woke up and didn’t immediately run for the toilet. He was sure Bones could’ve gotten rid of it faster, but the doctor would probably be using him as a walking example of the necessity of caution on unknown worlds, for years to come. …Ass.
It was Risa. The pleasure planet. That place where bad stuff wasn’t supposed to happen in the middle of your lovely vacation. But, as usual, Jim had to do something adventurous, and also as usual, Bones had to clean up after it.
The captain had taken it upon himself to visit the famed, and distinctly non-touristy, White Jungle. Unfortunately, the accomodations had been primitive. Bones was frankly shocked that the captain hadn’t ended up with malaria, but that was more of a swamp disease, he supposed — not that anyone had actually gotten malaria in the last hundred and twenty years, but Jim was special like that. No, instead, when he got the chills, the phlegmy cough, and the wicked case of dropsy, three days after they were back on the ship, Bones got the joy of informing the captain that he’d caught Legionnaire’s Disease — complete with pneumonic symptoms.
And Jim kept trying to get up and go back to work, in his delirium. In the end, after the third time Spock carried him back from the bridge, Bones just strapped Jim to a biobed and kept him sedated. It wasn’t worth the effort. Or the captain’s demented shouting about the "Romulan hoofnaglers in the viaduct" — he couldn’t swear to that second word, of course, but that was definitely what it sounded like.
Finally the antibiotics took hold, and Jim stopped sounding like he was drowning in his own snot. A few hours later, the paranoid ranting stopped, too. Bones actually went to check on him, at that point, just to be sure the captain hadn’t died, to get that quiet, but sure enough, he was still breathing — although wheezing might’be been the more technically accurate term.
"Bones, what did…? Why am I…?" Jim blinked up at the doctor, glassy-eyed and confused. "What?"
"It’s a kind of pneumonia, Jim. You’re gonna be just fine in a day or two."
"But… pneum—" he trailed off into a mumble "—were on Risa. [unintelligible] jungle. [muttered] in the hot." Jim stopped, staring intently and confusedly into Bones’s eyes. "Pneumonia? In the jungle? ‘s not cold…"
"Legionnaire’s Disease. You can only get it in a jungle—" you dumbass. Bones stared down at his best friend and worst patient. "So, are the Romulans still invading Rome on horseback?"
"What the ffff…?" One of Jim’s eyes crossed, and he blinked a few times, trying to clear up his vision.
"Good. Means you’re getting better. I’ll be back in a couple of hours." This was going to be a great story to tell to girls in bars, once it was all over. Bones was pretty sure he could keep Jim from getting laid for months, with this one.
"Bones?" Jim hasn’t opened his eyes, but even with them closed, the room is spinning and wobbling like a plate on a baton. "Bones, I’m just gonna trust that you’re here. What the hell is —" He turns his head and unleashes a thin stream of bile over the edge of the bed.
"Christ, Jim. I thought we gave you something for that." Jim can hear the sound of a towel hitting the floor, and the room begins to spin, in a different direction. "Shot you full of promethazine about four hours ago. Stopped working, already?"
"Bones, what is the ‘that’? And can I just have a bucket for it, please?"
"You’re lucky you don’t need a new liver for it! Romulan ale is not an appropriate thing to drink in those quantities! What the hell were you thinking?"
Jim flinches away from the voice. "Romulan ale? Really? I don’t remember much of last night, after the negotiations finished."
"That wasn’t last night. It was two nights ago — three if you want to count the one we’re in the middle of now." Bones sits on the edge of the bed, and Jim can feel it sink under the weight, rolling his stomach again. "Uhura called in when you collapsed. Said the natives had kept your glass full of some blue drink, all through dinner. I pumped about two liters of Romulan ale out of you, myself. I ran the tests. I know what that was."
"Then you probably got my dinner out with it. Did it look like good food?" Jim can feel the blood draining out of his face at the thought of food. "I don’t remember eating any of it."
"Christ, Jim, I don’t know. Ask Uhura. She ate it, too."
Jim knows Bones is shaking his head, looking exasperated. It’s about that point in the conversation. He tries very hard not to laugh, because he knows it’ll just make him throw up, again — not that there’s anything left to come up. "So, how long before surviving actually sounds like it was a good idea?"
"You’re mouthing off. I give it another twelve to sixteen hours. You’ll be back on duty in two days, if you don’t do anything stupid."
"I don’t do stupid things!" Jim tries to sound as offended as possible. "I’m just adventurous…"
The first sign of trouble was when the captain hit the deck, and not in any exciting or action-packed fashion. He simply stood up, then crumpled, his head rolling the same curve along the floor, again and again, as though he were having a very slow seizure.
"Don’t worry about me. It’s fine. I’m just dizzy," he called, clutching the floor for balance. "Deck’s a little spinny today."
"Keptin —" Chekov began, concerned.
"Do me a favour and call Bones, would you, Chekov?"
Within minutes, Jim was laying on the floor in sick bay. As he’d said, repeatedly, he was certain he couldn’t fall off of the floor. "Everything’s spinning, Bones, and I can’t hear with my left ear."
"When did this start? And don’t tell me when it got acute enough for you to actually care, tell me when it actually started." Bones knew his captain all too well.
"Dunno. Everything’s been a little wobbly since we got back from Vesperia VII. Figured I was just working too hard, or something."
"The swamps of Vesperia are an excellent place to pick up all sorts of nasty microbes, Jim. At this point, I just hope whatever it is hasn’t gotten into your brain." Bones continued to ramble about brain eating bacteria as he scanned Jim’s head with a tricorder. "Looks like it’s in your ear."
Jim opened his eyes when Bones stopped talking. "What’s in my ear, Bones?"
Bones looked down in amused horror of exactly the sort that doctors aren’t supposed to display. "An aspergilloma. In layman’s terms? You’ve got a giant ball of fungus and earwax rolling around in your inner ear. Dammit, Jim, this is why you’re supposed to tell me when things aren’t quite right!"
"I’ve got a giant fungal katamari in my ear." Jim managed to say it with a straight face, but dissolved into giggles, moments later. Unfortunately, giggling led to vomiting, and he had to be sedated before treatment could continue. Once the fungus was extracted, his ear disinfected, and his other ear scalded with a constant stream of hot Southern invective, he was good to go. He never doubted it for a minute.
and the one time it was Spock…
The energy being continued to hover over the stone platform onto which Jim had collapsed. "He will sleep. Do not worry, he is in no danger. This was once a place of healing."
"Sleep? Well, wake him up, dammit!" Bones insisted, trying to step forward in irritation, but meeting Spock’s elbow.
"Caution is advisable, Doctor. The being did warn us that the field around that bier had unpredictable effects on non-native species, before the captain chose to approach." Spock cocked his head, slightly, in a very Vulcan expression of sympathy. "I cannot advise retrieving the captain with your hands."
Bones nodded, tired and angry. Jim and his damned adventures. "Call the ship. Tell them to transport him out."
"I cannot. The captain had the communicator."
And now, Bones was livid, cheeks reddening as he seethed, before finally shouting. "Then how in the hell are we supposed to get out of here, ourselves?"
"First," Spock said, raising an eyebrow as though he were saying something other than the obvious, "we retrieve the captain."
Bones just fumed.
Spock turned his attention to the energy being. "If we remove him from the field, will he awaken?"
"No." The voice was sad and gentle. "He will not awake until he is kissed by someone who truly loves him."
Spock’s eyebrow arced up, in surprise. "Fascinating."
"And his mother’s all the way back on Earth. It’ll take us at least four days to get back there," Bones griped. "And we still can’t get him to Earth. And if we bring her here, we’ll lose her to the field, too."
"This is all speculative, but extremely probable. We need to get him out of the field." Spock looks around the room, before questioning the energy being again. "Will non-organic material pass through the barrier?"
"There is no reason it would not." There is a weighted pause. "We did not know it would affect him, in this fashion. We did not expect him to ignore our warnings."
"That’s Jim Kirk, for you." Bones shook his head. "Always ignoring warnings and good sense."
Spock used his tricorder to scan for instances of similar fields, as he approached some damaged equipment in one corner. "Doctor, I can do this, but it may result in some damage to the captain. Will you be prepared to mend a break or dislocation?"
Bones looked annoyed, before he realised what Spock intended. "You’re going to push him off the platform."
"That is, in fact, my intent." Spock picked up a long, metal rack, of some sort, from the pile of damaged equipment. "Do you have any objections?"
"Nah, if Jim can break it, I can fix it." There is a long pause as Bones considers the implications of this. "Most of the time, anyway. Just don’t break his skull."
With a nod, Spock passed the rack through the barrier, reaching for the captain, and watching to ensure the energy did not flow down the pole toward him. He pushed Jim off the bier, feet first, and then changed angle to drag the captain out of the field, completely. Jim remained unconscious, throughout.
"Good job, Spock." Bones nodded, looking up from his own tricorder. "You’ve managed to avoid breaking anything."
"Excellent." Spock knelt, removing the communicator from the captain’s pocket. "You must forgive us, honoured one, but we will be taking the captain back to our ship. It will be his decision whether or not we return."
"Go in peace. We hope to meet you again, under less unpleasant circumstances."
Spock nods and hails the Enterprise, and in moments he, the doctor and the captain are in sick bay.
"So, four days to Earth, and then we’ll get Miss Winona up here to fix him. I don’t relish having to explain what her son’s done, this time," Bones sighed, grimacing.
"Doctor, I may have a quicker solution to this problem. I ask that you leave me with him, for a few minutes."
"What are you planning to do?" Bones looked suspicious.
"I believe you would refer to it as ‘goddamned green-blooded hoodoo’, doctor."
Bones raised an eyebrow at Spock, but walked toward his office. "You’ve got five minutes, you pointy-eared hobgoblin, and you’d better not make it worse."
As the door closed, Spock took a deep breath and rubbed his fingertips against the captain’s. Jim remained still, and Spock looked very confused, until he remembered the obvious missing piece. Reciting Vulcan meditational chants in his head, Spock bent forward and kissed his captain’s lips. Jim groaned and batted at him, still half-asleep.
"What the f—" Jim’s eyes snapped open, to find Spock standing stiffly beside his bed. "Spock. Hey. … I had the weirdest dream that you were kissing me." He laughed, looking around, uncomfortably.
"I assure you, captain, stranger things have happened. I will go alert the doctor that you have awakened. I believe he wants to have a word with you, and after what I have done, he probably wants a word with me, as well." Spock looked unconscionably smug as he walked toward Bones’s office.