InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Somewhere there's a mother"

It had become somewhat commonplace for Pike and McCoy to meet for drinks after a shift. They were both a bit older and both enjoyed a nice glass of whiskey or bourbon. Pike had stocked a few cases on their last shore leave and though they joked it was for "medicinal purposes", it often gave the two men a chance to unwind. They would meet in one of their offices, have a drink or two, and pass the time. Tonight they were scheduled to meet in Chris' quarters. The bedroom area was closed off but the door to his quarters was unlocked since he was 'working' and didn't mind if anyone dropped by with a question. Well, normally.

Currently was a different story. Pike was sprawled on the floor, legs twisted in a somewhat awkward angle and a hand pressed to his lower back. He had gotten up to get something from his desk and the next thing he knew, his muscles had spasmed and he'd collapsed. That had been at least fifteen minutes ago by his count. He closed his eyes, he could breathe through this and then get himself over to the couch and it'd be fine. He just needed to rest for a moment to gather his strength.

Bones, after a pretty boring shift, was grateful that he had a drink with Chris to look forward to. He was even almost comfortable with calling him Chris, which was quite a feat. It was also welcome. Bones was never lonely on this ship, but it was nice to have another true friend, not simply a commanding officer, on board.

He let himself into Chris’s office and nearly stumbled on him. He took in the sight of the admiral, on the floor is a terribly uncomfortable position, and realized a nasty spasm has caused him to collapse. Trying to look at sympathetic as possible, hoping all evidence of I-told-you-so was hidden from face, Bones knelt beside his friend. “What was that you said about being just fine, don’t worry about you?”

Christopher simply grimaced, not in the mood to make a comeback. "Minor setback. Just get me a hypospray and help me to the couch and I'll be fine." At least that was his hope. He didn't want to acknowledge the realm of possibility of what might be wrong. "Tripped over the rug." The latter statement was a lie but it was also a feeble attempt to diffuse the situation. Chris had spent months in the hospital after the Narada and didn't want to ensure that again.

“I don’t think so.” He knelt down beside the admiral and did a quick body scan, making sure he hadn’t broken anything with the fall. Luckily he hadn’t, so Bones reached for his arm and lifted him into a sitting position on the couch. He did, however, not administer hypospray. “Tell me everywhere it hurts, on a scale of 1 to 5.” Drinks were going to have to wait, until the Doctor in him was satisfied.

Christopher scowled as he was helped to the sofa, though less in anger and more because of the pain wracking his body. He closed his eyes, rubbing a hand over his face. "Back's killing me.." Christopher admitted, his body tense.

Leia's words to him were at the forefront of his mind. This was no time to play the hero or beat around the bush with Leonard. "Legs are tingling…"

That made Bones frown, a deep concerned frown. “That can’t be good, Chris. Can you move onto your stomach? How long have those legs been tingling?” It could mean a few things. It could simply be a blood circulation issue. It could mean something worse. While Bones wasn’t inclined to optimism often, this was one case where he would rather think positive.

"Don't give me that look," Chris said. He really didn't want to see that concerned look from Bones or any other medical professional. He'd had enough of those looks after the Narada when it was questionable whether he'd ever walk again. There was a grunt of pain as Chris shifted onto his stomach, gritting his teeth against the pain. He couldn't quite move his legs the way he wanted to so they remained half twisted behind him.
"I don't know. There's been a bit of tingling on and off with the pain… didn't think too much of it. Today .. just seized up and then gave out. It's--"

Chris tried to move his left leg and it just felt like numb. "Leonard.." He didn't want to think about what it might mean.

Bones swore in three languages—Klingon was always most satisfying—and reached down to carefully straighten out his legs until he was in a somewhat normal position. He handed Chris a pillow so he could arrange himself a little more comfortably. “I know on your back would’ve been easier, but I need to look at it and all.”

He lifted the bottom of the admiral’s shirt, moving his fingers along his spine, checking for alignment issues. His monitor could check for a misalignment, but some things were still better with a trained hand, awkward as it was the further Bones’s hand traveled up Chris’s back. Happy to not find anything out of the ordinary there, he concentrated near the scar tissue and started a diagnostic. “Has your leg ever gone numb like this? Since you got here?” He looked away from his tricorder screen to glance down at Chris’s left leg, watching it for movement.

"Not in the totally useless sort of way," Chris admitted, which meant 'Yes, but not this bad.' Luckily Chris had spent enough time with McCoy for them to understand each other. "Len, if you wanted a strip show, you could have just asked. Though generally I prefer dinner and a drink first.."

It was a feeble attempt at humor and a reflection that Chris didn't want to know what was actually going on. "Leonard.. It's .. just temporary, right? Minor hiccup - I overdid it or something, right?"

“I think so,” Bones said, though not with as much confidence as he otherwise would have liked. The tricorder readings were inconclusive at best. “Chris, sensors are picking up some swelling around the spinal cord, in and around the scar tissue. Likely, that is from overuse. But it’s also picking up some nerve damage. I’m uploading the data to your file to do a cross-check against the last recorded nerve damage.” He pulled up a large pillow and took a seat on the floor, so he could be eye to eye with the Admiral. “Chris, regardless, I’m going to have to recommend some chair time.”

"No." The answer came strong and quick with as much gravitas as Chris could manage in his current position. He didn't want to go back to the chair, not even temporarily, because to him it symbolized defeat. He'd fought and struggled to get out of that chair that this seemed like taking three steps backwards. "There's got to be something else… I can manage with the cane, I'm sure."

“Chris, I can give you two options. The chair, or your bed.” Once the diagnostic finished, he scooted closer to him and showed him the results. "The scar tissue has stayed constant. That’s good. But all of the inflammation behind it is caused by everyday use. You can see compression causing some of the inflammation up farther on your back as well. That is all caused by standing. This will only get worse the more you stand and walk, with or without assistance."

Bones wasn’t stupid. He knew how strongly the admiral felt about being back in a chair, but he was in physician mode, and his primary care physician couldn’t worry about pride or self-defeat. Not when his patient was collapsing and completely losing feeling in one leg.

Christopher's face turned ashen to match the grey of his uniform as he looked at the diagnostic results. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Doctor.." he countered, giving Leonard his best Admiral look. "There has to be another way. I am not going back into that chair."

“There is. I gave you one. It’s called bedrest. It’s a lot more boring than a mobile chair,” Bones struck back. “It’s not permanent, Chris. But you do need to let your back rest, and you can’t do that walking around, no matter how carefully.”

"Leonard, I can't-" Chris began, running a hand over his hair. He didn't want to deal with this. He didn't want to deal with any slide backwards, no matter how temporary. It was too easy for it to become permanent. "Look, can't we just.. Deal with this tomorrow. A glass of scotch and a hypospray and I'll call it an early night…"

Bones was willing to admit he had probably let this go too long without hypospray, mostly because he was too distracted and worried. He unhooked it from his belt and shot some in near the scar tissue.

He wasn’t about to let it go that easily, though. While a decision didn’t need to be made tonight, it was true—and he did really want a glass of scotch—he needed to make Chris realize this wasn’t something he could sleep off. “Show me you can turn over and sit up on your own.”

Chris relaxed for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as the hypospray worked through his system. He raised an eyebrow at Bones. "That'll convince you?" he asked.

Gritting his teeth, Chris pushed his weight up on his arms. The benefit of all the physical therapy was that his upper body strength was good. He managed to turn himself from his stomach to his back, though the strain was clear on his face and his legs didn't quite seem to cooperate. Sweat beaded on his brow as he tried to figure out how to get himself into a sitting position despite the protest from his body.

Bones sighed and came up beside him, slinging an arm over his shoulder to help reposition him. Once he was square on the couch, Bones got up and got the scotch. “Chris, I can do my best to ignore this tonight, but we have to talk to about it tomorrow.”

Chris huffed out a sigh. "Alright, look, I can make some time after lunch if that works?" He wasn't quite sure how he was going to make it to lunch, but he'd deal with that in the morning. After all, if he had any luck, the worst of this would be over by the morning and he'd be able to go about his daily business.

“Yeah, fine,” he said as he poured the scotch into two glasses, pouring them each a double, and passed him one. “But if this is a still a problem when you wake up tomorrow, you’re calling me. Right?” He raised an eyebrow as he took a drink.

Chris took the glass gratefully and tossed half of it back in one go. "Define problem."

“Well considering I’m likely going to have to carry you back to your quarters, if you can’t get out of bed, that is a problem. If you can get out of bed but then crash to the floor, that is also a problem.”

"I can just sleep here," Chris offered, swirling the scotch around in his glass. Of course, sleeping on the couch probably wouldn't do his body any favors. He leaned his head back against the sofa cushions and stared at the ceiling. "How bad are we talking? Straight up.. What are we dealing with here?"

“I am not letting you sleep here. Besides, it’ll worry the General,” he reminded him. Bones contemplated his scotch glass before looking back up at Chris. “The diagnostic showed no new damage, only inflammation. That’s good. This is really temporary, Chris, assuming you take care of yourself. On par with people whose bad knees can predict rain, just more painful. It will become more if you don’t let the inflammation go down.”

Chris chuckled. "The General's already worried. Wants me to talk to you about what might be causing the increase in pain and whether or not there's anything to be done." Which, really, he should have mentioned to McCoy a few days ago, but he'd gotten caught up in his projects. He also knew 'taking care of himself' wasn't an area he excelled in.
"So, if I'm in the chair a few hours a day, this will go away?" He didn't think it would be that simple, but it was worth trying.

Bones chuckled and finished off his glass. “See, knew I liked Leia.” He chewed on the inside of his lip and considered treatment options. “I do think it’s simply being caused by overexertion. I suppose it could be the temporal anomalies, but then others would be experiencing a similar regression, I would think, so I’m going to stick with overexertion for now.

“I would rather you try to stand as little as possible for the next week, but then I would be willing to see how you do with a few hours in the chair per day—and I’m talking hours you would typically spend on your feet, not hours when you’re sitting already.”

"You realize how difficult it is to avoid you when you gang up with my-" Chris stumbled for a moment about what to call Leia - "-partner. Annoying as all hell. Unfair odds, I say." He finished off his glass of scotch and held it out for more.

"As long as I'm sitting though, I can keep to my normal duty roster?"

“Me, gang up?” He grinned and poured them each another glass. “I will give you medical clearance after a week of rest. But the roster is up to Jim, you know that.”

Chris gave Leonard a smirk that was similar enough to Kirk that is was hard to tell who learned it from who. "Captain makes the roster, but I'm special advisor, so I usually make my own schedule."

Bones shook his head. “I don’t like that look. And I can always whisper in his ear that you shouldn’t be making your own schedule for a while. I have pull, too, you know.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it…” Chris said. He knew he wasn’t necessarily the best patient, but still, he wanted to keep up with his projects (even if he was probably overdoing it for a man of his age). “Does this mean no covering the bridge this week?” Chris could argue that he could do a bridge shift from his chair — or from the chair — but he was also smart enough that no captain Worth their salt would let someone not medically cleared be in charge of the bridge.

“No bridge this week. After that, I make no promises. We need to see how this looks after a week of rest.” He sighed and shook his head. “For what it’s worth, Chris, I mean it when I say nothing points to this being a permanent problem.”

Chris nodded. “I’m glad to hear it.” He was, truly. But he was also terrified of ending up confined to the chair or bedridden again like he had been after the Narada. “And I’ll certainly drink to that.”

“Okay. One more drink and then I’m sending you to bed.” He poured them each one more glass. “And by send, I think I mean I carry you. Right?”

“Well, I’m sure I could manage to get there but it probably would involve me dragging myself across the floor.” Chris rubbed absently at his leg, trying to get some feeling into it. He sipped the scotch. A week - he could manage a week in the chair. "I don't suppose there's anyway you could avoid telling Jim or Leia about this?"

Bones shrugged and took a seat beside him on the couch. “I have to tell Jim you’re not cleared for full regular duty, but I’ll be discreet unless he asks questions. I won’t lie to him. If Leia’s already in for the night, I’m not lying to her, but otherwise she’s your responsibility.”

It was what Chris expected, and what he'd insist upon if he were Captain, but there was hope that he'd get some pull as Admiral. He drained his glass and set it on the end table. "I can deal with Leia. Jim.. Jim might be a bit cranky at me overdoing it.."

Bones nodded slowly. “He might, yes, but—well, then again so am I.” He threw him a grin and leaned back into the cushions. “He wouldn’t stay mad with you, though. How are things with Leia?”

"Oh come on, you know both you and Jim would have done the same thing in my position," he said, raising an eyebrow at the doctor. "Good. Hard to complain, especially after a shore leave. "

There was a smirk on Chris' face that left little doubt as to what he was referring to.

“Well of course we would have. We all share that wonderful workaholic streak, and never stop when we should.” Bones gave him a look and sighed, shaking his head but smiling a little. “Good. I’m glad. And she’ll be able to help you this week.”

"To that wonderful workaholic streak." Chris raised his glass with a sigh before he made a face at the comment about Leia. "I'm sure.. It's just… hard enough having her threaten to conspire with you. I'm not used to having to share details about my health with people. "

Bones took the toast to their workaholism, and took a sip. “Don’t get too upset with her. Any possible conspiring is simply for the sake of your health and nothing more, I promise.”



“I know. And I’m sure I’d fuss just as much about her or you or Jim… it’s just.. and adjustment…” Chris leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not used to people intervening in my habits.”

“You’ll be fine,” Bones said. But, after a moment, he added, “though I wouldn’t want to be you. I can say you’re looking better than when I found you already. And not just because you’re not on the ground anymore.”

"It's the alcohol," Chris deflected. "Magical healing powers."

Bones laughed and nodded. “True enough.” He clasped his shoulder briefly and stood. “I’m comfortable leaving you. Do you need anything else before I do?”

"I'd rather stay here than move to the bed right now," Chris admitted honestly. The hyposprays helped, certainly, but Chris was actually sometimes smart enough not to push himself too far. "Might be best to have the hoverchair nearby…"

Bones was surprised to hear Chris admit it, but relieved to hear him say it. “I’ll fetch it. Where are you hiding it? I know you prefer to pretend it doesn’t exist.”

"Well, it's slightly more dignified than having you carry me to bed." Chris smirked. "Threw it out the airlock or left it on Risa."

Chris blew out a sigh. "In the closet, under the pile of personal things."

“I am definitely grateful that I won’t have to attempt it, yes.” When he said he left it on Risa, Bones almost believed him, but let his shoulders relax when he gave up the real location. With a quick nod he went to the closet to retrieve it—leaving the nondescript ‘personal things’ in a lumpy pile—and coaxed the chair into position next to Chris. “I know you’re thrilled, but there it is.”

Chris gave the chair a slightly dirty look. "I'd say thanks, but I'm working on trying this new thing where I don't lie to my doctors."

Bones laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be a little bit grateful when you go to stand. Comm me if you need me. I mean it.”

"Will do." Chris settled into the couch and reached for his PADD. "Do I have to drag myself to medbay tomorrow or does being an Admiral mean I get to have my doctor make house calls?"

Bones double checked to make sure his glass was empty, concentrating hard while he debated his answer. “I suppose I can come here.” He shrugged, hiding a smile behind his glass. “I’ll come by at noon not only as your doctor, but as lunch delivery.”

Chris chuckled. "I appreciate it Leonard. Truly." If this was only temporary, then he'd prefer to minimize the time in public in the chair. It wasn't that he was embarrassed of the chair, but there was no reason to have the majority of the crew concerned about him again.

Bones smiled, one of his rare, properly genuine smiles. “You’re welcome, Chris. Relax tonight, I’ll see you tomorrow.”