Pavel looked skeptically at his water glass. Doctor McCoy had just stormed out after essentially ordering him to empty it, but he didn't want to. The glass was slimy with condensation; he used the edge of his gown to wipe it, and then picked it up gingerly. He stared at it doubtfully a few seconds more and then took a sip. The water tasted like metal. He gagged and set it down quickly.

The glass rocked wildly, but did not tip. He was glad not to spill. He had earlier; the alpha shift nurses had been forced to change the bed. They had been very kind about it. He couldn't imagine telling Miss O'Loughlin he had poured water all over himself. She wouldn't even try to pretend she wasn't mad. She didn't like him. He had specifically said, "Please do not put ice in my water." She hadn't listened. No one ever listened. It wasn't fair.

He closed his eyes and sighed. His skin felt sensitive and his eyes hurt, and that meant his fever was back. He had been hopeful when Dr. McCoy had let him come to the regular ward, but he was getting worse. They would just stick him back in isolation and forget him. He would be there forever. No one would care. They might not even notice. They had probably already replaced him. Hopefully with Miss Darwin, if it was x'Tan he didn't think he could stand it. It was probably x'Tan.

There were voices at the nurse's desk, he turned his head to listen, but he couldn't make out the words. That meant someone had a visitor; probably Lieutenant Thomas, the engineer that had needed surgery. Pavel had been in sick bay enough to know only visitors talked quietly at the desk. The staff never bothered to keep their voices down. He could hear everything. It could be really interesting, one of the few benefits of being sick so often. He felt like his hours spent lying in sick bay listening to nurses complain about their lovers had given him insights he would never have otherwise had.

When the ward's door opened he expected to see Lieutenant O'Loughlin, come to give him a shot or instruct him to do something painful. He sat up straighter in the bed, trying to look healthy. Maybe she would leave him alone if he seemed to be getting better. But it was Nyota that came in, and she was followed by Hikaru. Seeing them made Pavel happier than he had felt in days. The surprise made him gasp, and that made his chest hurt, and for a second he was afraid he would start coughing and scare them away. But he swallowed hard and managed to control it. He couldn't talk so he waved.

"Hey, how are you?" Hikaru called, grinning and hurrying over to the bed.

"You came to see me." Pavel finally said. Hikaru nodded and pulled up a chair. He leaned on it and studied Pavel carefully. Nyota didn't say anything, but just stood and stared at him. She looked critical, but he wasn't concerned. She made that face when she was worried.

"How do you feel?" asked Hikaru.

Pavel thought quickly. People almost never wanted the real answer to that question. They didn't want a recitation of symptoms. It was a greeting. And Pavel thought he knew what to say.

"I feel good!" he said.

"You don't look good." Hikaru said, but calmly. Pavel smiled and shrugged, pleased because he had guessed correctly and said the right thing.

Hikaru shifted the chair around and took a seat next to Pavel. He continued to look at him critically. Finally he asked, "What's up with the eyes?"

Pavel had forgotten about his eyes. He hadn't seen them, but all the nurses had mentioned them. He assumed they looked worse than they felt. He said, "I did it to myself. The illness made my eyes swell, and they itch. Apparently I rubbed them hard enough to break the blood vessels."

"Why did you do that?" Hikaru asked.

"I didn't know that I was. It was last week, when the fever was high. I don't remember."

"Jesus Pav." Hikaru said. Now he sounded concerned.

The bruises didn't hurt and Pavel didn't want his friends to worry. He shrugged and said, "I have had many black eyes. I never gave them to myself before. It makes a change."

Hikaru laughed, shook his head and said, "I brought you a present." he held out a little white sack. Pavel recognized it immediately.

"French fries!" he said. They smelled amazing; he wished he could eat them. It was a great gift. He wanted to say the little phrase they had made up, but he started to laugh, which made him cough; he couldn't say anything until he got it under control. Then of course Miss O'Loughlin came in to complain that his illness was keeping her from sitting and doing absolutely nothing all shift.

Lieutenant O'Loughlin tried to intimidate his friends into leaving. But Nyota stood up to her, she was never afraid of anyone. She sat down in a chair by the head of the bed and gave the nurse such a look that Miss O'Loughlin left without saying one more word. He wondered, as he often did, if he could learn to be more like Nyota. He doubted it. She didn't care what other people thought. He cared all the time.

They talked awhile, and to please her, he tried to eat Nyota's yogurt. Then Hikaru laid a PADD on the table and said, "Captain Kirk threw x'Tan off the bridge today."

Pavel forgot where he was and clapped. Hikaru laughed but Nyota looked at him like he was seven, and he felt badly, because she was right and it was immature, but he was so happy. She didn't understand; the lieutenant was never rude to her. And incompetent, he was incompetent too, that was the main thing of course. He wondered if it was bad that it gave him so much satisfaction to hear that Lieutenant x'Tan had almost wrecked the ship. It wasn't like he actually wanted the ship wrecked. He didn't want the ship hurt at all, but it was so great that for once he wasn't the only one bothered by Mr. x'Tan. Who was incompetent, incompetent was the important thing.

Dr. McCoy came in, and immediately started lecturing. But then so did the captain. And then Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott came too. They distracted the doctor and kept him from getting any real momentum going, so for once he only talked like a minute and it wasn't even hard to ignore him. And Mr. Scott brought a whole box of Legos. Pavel was not thrilled when Mr. Scott told the bridge crew that he killed time down in engineering building with them, but no one said anything about it, and Hikaru acted like it wasn't stupid. Then everyone started to play with them, even Mr. Spock and the doctor. It was really fun, easily the most fun he had had since, probably since they left Ertruck anyway.

Of course Dr. McCoy had to ruin everything. Pavel's eyes kept watering from the effort of looking for the right pieces. And sometimes he almost coughed and had to tense all his muscles to control it. He hoped nobody would notice, but the doctor did. Dr. McCoy kept frowning and glancing at the lights above the bed. Finally he threw his Legos in the box and stuck his hand on Pavel's forehead. He grunted and yelled, "O'Loughlin!" so loudly that Pavel dropped the little transport he'd been building. It broke.

Lieutenant O'Loughlin appeared in the doorway, looking harassed.

"Where is the hypo I ordered half an hour ago?" Dr. McCoy snapped.

"Right here," Miss O'Loughlin said, holding up a glass vial. "Things don't get synthesized automatically doctor. Every time you order something new I have to make it. That takes time."

"I don't want any more shots." Pavel said.

Dr. McCoy completely ignored him and continued to speak to Miss O'Loughlin. He said, "Maybe you should go make a couple more of these and next time your patient needs medication he won't have to wait."

O'Loughlin said, "And then when you decide to try something else next time they will be wasted. That's why we have a formulary." Pavel thought she looked right at him when she added, "It works fine for most people."

The doctor reached for the hypo and said, "Good medicine is individualized. On this ship we use only the best medical practice. As long as I am Chief Medical Officer, anyone who does not agree with that goal is free to seek employment where expectations are lower."

McCoy sounded perfectly calm when he spoke, and Pavel knew from many previous trips to sick bay that calm sounding meant dangerously angry. The wisest decision would be to stay quiet and meekly submit to anything the doctor ordered. But the fever must have interfered with his self-control because when the doctor reached toward him with the syringe he scooted away and said again, "I don't want any more shots."

He regretted it immediately, because he sounded whiney. Miss O'Loughlin rolled her eyes and left. The doctor said, "When you get your medical degree I will start considering your input. This is the viricide, you are getting it no matter what, and I added some things for your symptoms. You should be glad you aren't getting three. Now hold still."

Up against the edge of the bed and out of options, Pavel held still. All around him people smiled like he had done something cute. It was so frustrating. No one understood. It wasn't the pain from the shot he minded. But on a good day it was hard for him to keep his thoughts organized. The drugs made it impossible, his mind would race and his memories and his dreams would get confused. It would be another bad night. He closed his eyes and tried not to flinch when the syringe hissed. He sighed and settled back down into the bed.

"Why does he have so many bruises?" Nyota asked accusingly.

The doctor frowned and pulled at the shoulder of Pavel's medical gown. "The virus made his capillaries leak. It looks worse than it is." He pulled at the other side and looked at that shoulder. He continued, "It's why his eyes look so bad. And then too, he's had a lot of hypos in a week. And he was in isolation; the robots aren't as gentle as I am." Pavel snorted and pulled up his gown so his shoulders were covered. He wanted company, not the entire crew to see him naked.

"Does that hurt?" asked the doctor, moving the gown again and gently rubbing his shoulder.

"No." Pavel said, pulling away. It did hurt, but not too bad.

"Because I could order a" the doctor began.

"No." Pavel said more firmly. He was tired of being sick and he didn't want one more therapist, treatment, or procedure. He wanted to be well.

"He says things don't hurt when they do." Hikaru said. Pavel shifted in the bed and glared at the blankets. It wasn't fair; Hikaru knew how much he hated being in sick bay.

"You should prescribe him time in the therapy pools, the real ones, with the water. It might help." Hikaru finished, sounding confident, like he made suggestions to the doctor all the time.

Pavel was impressed; it was even a better gift than the French fries. On the ship it was almost impossible to get access to water for bathing. Dr. McCoy guarded the facilities in sickbay like he paid for the water himself. Although sometimes after Pavel was sick the doctor let him have a real shower. He always said something dismissive, like that Pavel needed to get the sweat out of his hair, but Pavel knew he meant it as a treat.

Pavel decided to do what he could to help. He tried to look his most pathetic and said, "Maybe I could stand that, if it would help me get back to work."

"Oh, you're worried about the ship now are you?" asked Dr. McCoy, his lips twitched.

"Yes sir, the ship." Pavel sighed.

"So young, and so noble." the captain said shaking his head. Hikaru and Mr. Scott were laughing.

"Thank you sir, it is an honor to serve." Pavel said mildly. That made the captain laugh too, and then they were all laughing, except Mr. Spock, but he didn't look uncomfortable, and that was kind of his laughing.

"I will consider it. But not tomorrow, maybe later in the week if you cooperate and start to get some strength back. You're weak as a kitten, you might drown." McCoy said.

The doctor paused like he was expecting a fight. Ordinarily Pavel would have explained that he wasn't weak and wouldn't drown, but he wanted the doctor in a good mood, so this time he kept his thoughts to himself. When Pavel said nothing the doctor continued, "Now all you people get out of here, this boy needs to sleep."

"I am not tired." Pavel said automatically, forgetting to be quiet.

"Oh, I can say with complete certainty that you will be." said Dr. McCoy, smiling at the glass vial he still held in his hand.

"I've got to go anyway; I'm going to go talk to some people about coverage for navigation. I will drop by tomorrow. Get better Pav. We miss you up there." Hikaru said. He punched Pavel in the shoulder.

Pavel thought that the punch would probably leave a bruise, which was kind of ironic. He said, "Thank you for the fries."

Mr. Scott said he would come again too and patted him on the head. Pavel didn't mind much since none of the other ensigns were around to see. Mr. Spock nodded and gravely wished him a good evening. Miss Uhura leaned close to him and murmured in Russian, "I am happy you're getting better Pasha." She surprised him by lightly kissing his forehead.

He whispered back, "Thank you for visiting, and for the gift Nyota, you are always kind to me."

She smiled and squeezed his hand. She walked out with Mr. Spock, they did not touch of course, but Pavel could tell they were walking together. She had seemed a little sentimental all evening, which was unusual for her. He wondered if it was because he looked so ill or if something else had happened, either way he was glad she was not alone. Right before she left she looked back from the door and waved, like she was sorry to go. How did she always know the right thing to do?

He had pleased her by calling her Nyota. He almost never did anymore; not out loud, he thought of her as Nyota always. He had always called her by her first name when they were at the academy, she thought he still should. He had explained that it wasn't appropriate now, they weren't students and she outranked him. She had countered that he almost always called Hikaru by his first name. And it was true, he did. But Hikaru was his closest friend. They were together a lot; it would have been ridiculous to always use his title. The rest of the crew he was careful to address professionally, even off the ship.

She did not understand. She had no way of knowing how much resentment his inclusion on the bridge crew caused. He had many ways of knowing, many, many beings had explained or shown him how much it was resented. Calling her by her first name would be like bragging, like yelling to the whole crew, 'Look at me! The amazing Nyota Uhura, she is my friend, but not yours'. He wouldn't do that, it was enough that he knew it was so.

She, of course, did not care what the rest of the crew thought, but he did. He had to for self-preservation, but he might have anyway. He wanted to be liked.

And there was one more reason, the one he would never explain to anyone. He liked her more than he should. He couldn't help it; she was so good, and so beautiful. Using her title helped him remember that they weren't equals.

The captain seemed to have slipped out without saying goodbye. Maybe he had important work to do, or maybe he forgot. Either way he was gone. And when the doctor left he had dimmed the lights in the ward, without asking Pavel, the only patient, if he wanted the lights down. Now he got to sit alone in the dark. And be sick, he had that bit of luck too. No wonder he inspired such envy.

Without his friend's voices, the quiet was oppressive. The room, so familiar in the light, was altered in the dark. Shadows blurred lines and changed shapes. Equipment cases loomed threateningly from the walls. Even the privacy curtains on the next bed looked different, like someone was behind them. In fact, they looked exactly like someone was behind them. Pavel looked away and reminded himself not to allow his imagination to create problems.

People teased him because he avoided sickbay. Everyone thought it was because of the hypos, or Dr. McCoy yelling. And truthfully, he was not crazy about either of those things. But it wasn't just those things. And at night, like the shadows, the other things got bigger.

Being left behind shouldn't bother him. After his mother died he had been sent away to school. Actually to many, many schools, each one supposedly better, but really just more demanding than the last. To him they had been interchangeable. The term began when he was yanked up the stairs of some new place by whatever aunt had been most recently tasked with getting rid of him. She would haul him into some office and force him to shake hands with who ever had shown up to inspect the little genius. While the officials fussed, the aunt would mutter something about studying hard, and leave. The headmaster's secretary would look through his papers for his name and then say, "It won't do Pasha, for auntie to think you are sad to be here, give her a smile to remember." He would stand obediently at the window, smiling and waving to his aunt's back. No one had ever looked back. He would watch till she was gone, and then follow the secretary to see his new room and meet his new class mates, the latest group of strangers who would make sure he understood he didn't belong.

He took a deep breath and told himself to stop thinking. He was no longer an unwanted child. He was an officer on a starship. But his mind continued to race, and he knew there were hours till morning, and plenty of sad things to consider. He started calculating cubic roots in his head. That sometimes helped.

The stillness was broken by the sound of laughter from the hall by the turbolift. It broke his concentration, and reminded him that life went on without him. He had known that for a long time. He remembered sitting in the cafeteria of some school. Which one? Maybe Brussels, it had been the worse. He had been sitting, alone of course, and had heard someone call to a friend. And it had occurred to him that he couldn't remember anyone speaking to him. Not that week, not that month, he couldn't remember the last time a living being had called him by name. He remembered sitting in that room filled with other people and knowing it didn't matter to anyone if he was there, or gone, or had ever been at all.

His heart pounded in his chest and his throat felt tight. His real problem with sick bay was that he couldn't leave. Usually when he felt like this he wandered the ship. He went to the labs and Hikaru let him sketch the plants for his study. Or he called Nyota. If she was alone she would make tea and let him lie on her floor, watching for rainbows and listening as she practiced Mr. Spock's harp; if he fell asleep she threw a blanket over him and let him stay all night. Sometimes he went to engineering. If Mr. Scott was working Pavel could too, and Mr. Scott would tell him stories for hours. Even when his best friends were busy, he eventually found someone. The yeomen watching vids in the rec room would make room for him on the couch, or the security guys in the gym would ask him join their game. If it was really late he sometimes took snacks to the custodial staff and listened to them, they liked company and knew lots of things no one else did. He knew everyone, and eventually he could always find someone happy to see him.

He stared into the dark, quiet room. When he had been alone it had never occurred to him that having friends would mean he would often miss them.

"Hey." said a voice behind him. Pavel looked up, more confused than frightened. The captain stood beside him, smiling until he saw Pavel's face. Then he frowned and asked, "What's wrong with you? Do you want me to get Bones? Are you sicker?"

"No, don't worry. I am glad you are here. Were you behind the curtain?" Pavel asked.

"Yeah, I had to hide somewhere. I didn't want Bones to throw me out. It was the only place I could think of. Pickings are slim around here, it's just so..." the captain frowned, looking around the ward.

"Sterile?" suggested Pavel.

"Sterile is exactly what it is. I had to take what I could get. It worked too." the captain flopped into the seat next to the bed.

"I thought you forgot." Pavel said.

"We have an agreement, right?" the captain asked. "We shook on it; I wouldn't forget something like that. The deal is, when I'm locked in here, you figure out something to keep me from being bored. When you're in, I return the favor."

"Right." Pavel agreed.

The captain continued, "I wanted to do something good, because I loved those World Cup vids you brought me last time I was in, even though they were probably illegal."

"You are a galactic hero; they should be honored to share them with you."

"And then you let me win at cribbage, which was also great."

"I brought a cribbage set, and then you beat me."

"Chekov, you corrected my addition like fifty times."

"You were over medicated; the mistakes were killing my soul."

"Anyway, it's my turn and I wanted to come up with something good, but you're just so much better at this stuff than I am."

"You brought great things this week, especially the kaleidoscope. And I always appreciate the vids you bring me."

"Yeah, but I've done that every time and Bones says not to let you watch any till your eyes get better. So I thought hard, and I am kind of proud of what I came up with. But first, we eat." He held out his left hand. He had two sticks in his fist. They were wrapped in colorful paper.

Pavel looked at them doubtfully. Captain Kirk asked, "Don't you know what these are?" Pavel shook his head. The captain laughed and said, "These are Blow Pops. They're the best. First you eat the candy and then when you finish there's bubble gum, which you chew to keep from needing to get another snack. You are going to love it. I got us both cherry. You're welcome."

Pavel opened the candy and dutifully stuck it in his mouth. It was so overwhelmingly sweet that it numbed his tongue, and then his throat, which was nice. He should have known, the captain was always right. And the captain knew more about fun than anyone else. They ate quietly for a few minutes. Pavel jumped when he heard an unexpected crack. Beside him Captain Kirk was already chewing through the candy.

"So O'Loughlin's got the duty tonight?" asked the captain. Pavel nodded. "Mean Maddie O'Loughlin. She's bad. I always get the impression she thinks I am not quite cutting it as a patient."

Pavel looked at the captain in wonder. He had assumed it was only him, but that was exactly how Miss O'Loughlin made him feel.

Captain Kirk said, "We'll have to keep our voices down."

"Don't worry. She won't check on me unless the alarms go off. I think she prefers it when I am unconscious, it means less work for her." Pavel said reflectively.

"Maybe, but it causes a lot of paperwork." said the captain. "So how do you feel?"

Pavel started to tell the captain he felt great but before he could Captain Kirk said, "And don't give me any bullshit about being fine. How are you really?"

"Really?" asked Pavel. The captain nodded. Pavel sighed and said, "Since you wish to know, I feel like someone ripped my stomach out leaving only the bloody remnants of my throat through which I must periodically cough up huge pieces of my lungs. I am so weak I spill water on myself and my muscles all hurt, and my eyes hurt, and when Dr. McCoy isn't jabbing metal into me he tells me to stop feeling sorry for myself and drink more fluids. And that is how I really feel."

"Are you sure there's nothing else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"You are looking extra pathetic this evening. Come on, spill."

Pavel didn't want to discuss Brussels. He thought fast and said, "I know this is stupid, but I feel badly for Mr. x'Tan.

"Seriously, I thought you didn't like him?"

Pavel shrugged. He knew he should feel badly for lying, but he didn't. It was hard to maintain any privacy on the ship.

The captain looked at him skeptically and then said, "Well don't bother. It's not like I am going to have him exiled; I'll just transfer him to some ship that does milk runs. They need navigators too, but the routes are established, and the hazards are generally known. He will do record keeping and he won't get anyone killed. It's a win for all of us. Feel better?"

Pavel nodded. The captain looked at him closely. Pavel smiled and nodded again, trying to appear appeased. The captain said doubtfully, "Yeah, sure you do, because that is what you were so worried about."

Pavel continued to smile and said nothing. The captain shook his head, and said, "Fine, let's talk about Dr. McCoy's lecture this morning."

"I," Pavel paused and then admitted, "I barely listened." He had tuned out as soon as the doctor had started in on Ertruck. He almost never did listen to the doctor's rants. He wondered if he should offer the captain an excuse, maybe his illness, or that he had heard it before. He decided to say nothing. It was better if the captain did not know how much he ignored. Anyone who thought Dr. McCoy's speeches were stupid should meet Dr. Treos. Or attend a staff meeting; there was plenty to not listen to at those.

Captain Kirk continued, "But you understand Bones isn't really mad at you right? I know he sounds bad, and that you don't like it when he yells. I heard him this morning when he said you being so sick and me getting injured so often make him look incompetent. But that's just him, that's how he says he's worried. Don't let it bother you."

"Only people who do not know Dr. McCoy are afraid of him." Pavel said.

The captain didn't understand; no one did. It was sick bay Pavel hated, not the doctor. He admired Dr. McCoy. He knew most the crew considered the doctor to be unsympathetic. But Pavel did not agree. He had spent a lot of time in sick bay, and he was observant. Doctor McCoy was strict, but often very kind; he did what needed to be done, but he never hurt anyone on purpose. The more frightened the patient, the gentler the doctor became. And he worried about everyone, often he worked hours longer than he was scheduled to. He had no way of knowing of course, but Pavel thought Dr. McCoy might be something like a good father, gruff, but trustworthy and caring.

One awful night last week Pavel had awakened from a horrible nightmare in a complete panic. The doctor had come into the unit, helped Pavel sit up, reminded him to breathe, and rubbed his back with cloths dipped in tepid water. He was there most of the night, sweating in a bio suit, just to keep Pavel from hyperventilating himself into a stasis unit. None of the other doctors would have done that. Dr. Treos would have left him to the robots, which had floated nearby, prepared to jab him into unconsciousness and shove a tube down his throat.

Just today the doctor had understood, and spared Pavel having to explain how he felt about returning to isolation. And then he had agreed to consider the hot tubs. As far as Pavel was concerned, the doctor was entitled to his speeches, not necessarily entitled to have them listened to, but to make them.

The captain however, he always enjoyed listening to. Pavel forced himself to refocus on his commander.

Captain Kirk said, "Okay, as long as you understand. Now let's talk about getting the flu and the ambassador's daughter."

Pavel pulled the candy from his mouth and frowned. This was exactly how the doctor's embarrassing talk this morning had started. He said warily, "It's not like she infected me on purpose, she didn't know she was sick." He added, "Does everyone know about this?"

"Yeah, pretty much and we are all feeling a little emotional because our boy is growing up."

"I did not, I, I, I," Pavel sputtered, he finally managed to say, "Captain Kirk, please don't speak about this. Dr. McCoy already tried. I didn't talk to him, I am not going to tell you about it either."

"I don't want details, and I am certainly in no position to lecture you. I am just wondering if you think it was worth it."

Pavel cast about for a dignified way to escape the conversation. Why couldn't he be more like Nyota? She would have known how to handle this. He decided to pretend. He put his chin up and said calmly, "I would have to say that it was."

"Excellent!" said the captain. "That's what I hoped you'd say, because that means it was good, right? And you are okay?"

Pavel was not sure how to answer; he wondered if he had understood the question. He had just said he was so sick he couldn't hold his own water glass, how okay could he possibly be? But the captain continued to look at him with an expression both hopeful and worried. He couldn't disappoint the captain, so he nodded.

The captain said, "I was sure that was what you would say. I should have taken bets. Well, now that we've cleared that up we can move on. Guess what I have prepared?" He turned on his PADD and set it on his lap. Words ran across the page.

"You are going to read me a bedtime story?" Pavel asked. He couldn't help feeling disappointed. The captain didn't usually treat him like a child.

"Not a story, a novel. I figured I could come down and read to you every night until you get out. It's perfect, because you'll like it and you should be out of here before we finish so I won't have to think of anything else, and believe me; all my other ideas were lame." The captain reached behind him and ripped a pillow and blanket off the next bed.

"You are not supposed to touch the clean beds sir."

"I'm the captain. It's my ship, therefore they're my blankets. Shall I begin?"

Pavel watched the Captain Kirk arrange the pillow and wrap his legs in the blanket. Apparently he meant to stay a while. He knew the captain unquestionably had better things to do than sit in sick bay and read to an ensign. Pavel said, "If you sent me the audio you wouldn't have to take the time to come here."

The captain set the PADD down and looked at Pavel. He said, "Okay, here's the deal. I hate sick bay because I get bored, but I know that what you hate is being lonely. I figure this way, at least part of every evening you'll have company."

Pavel froze. He felt exposed. Should he deny it, or make it into a joke? Perhaps he should pretend not to understand. The captain continued to look at him expectantly. Pavel decided to reassure him. But his voice, when he spoke, came out wrong. He had meant to sound confident, but instead he sounded wistful. He said, "You don't have to do this."

"Pavel," said the captain. "I want to."

"Everything is going on and it doesn't matter that I am not there." He hated that he sounded so pathetic.

"I know buddy, sometimes I feel like I waste half my life lying in those stupid beds. But pretty much the whole ship misses you. Now that you're out of isolation you are going to have tons of visitors."

"I doubt it."

"I don't." Captain Kirk looked at Pavel, clearly expecting him to say more. When he didn't the captain turned to the PADD and squinted at the page. He said, "Okay, now this is one of my favorites."

"Fiction?" Pavel asked without much enthusiasm.

"Yes fiction. I love the way you just assume I wouldn't be reading anything serious by the way. You read way too many boring books Chekov. You definitely need more fiction in your life."

"A childhood wasted on mathematics that I could have spent studying American literature." Pavel mused.

"This is actually English, but I know you are going to like it. Are you ready?"

Pavel pulled the blanket up to his chest. It didn't really matter, the captain was right, even the worst novel would be better than brooding alone in the dark. What would Captain Kirk like? Maybe something about adventures at sea, that would fit. He shut his eyes and nodded.

The captain cleared his throat and began, "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."

An hour later McCoy walked past the nurses' desk. O'Loughlin nodded at the monitor screens and said, "He's asleep."

McCoy grunted an acknowledgement and opened the door to the ward softly. He was very pleased, because at this point sleep would do more good than anything else. He'd expected to find Chekov awake. The boy tended to get twitchy at night. Daytime he sat and watched the staff, read quietly, and tried to do as he was told. But when the lights went down, he got anxious. McCoy had attempted several times to discuss it; the patient always smiled angelically and pretended to not understand the question.

The ward was dark and quiet. McCoy was surprised to see the light from a PADD glowing by the bed. It was not like Chekov to be deliberately disobedient. He had specifically said no reading until his eyes were stronger. In the morning they would need to have a discussion about this. Just let the boy try and ignore it, it was about time he learned to listen anyway. McCoy stomped over to confiscate the PADD.

As he walked his eyes accommodated to the light. He was surprised to see two figures. Chekov was curled up like a puppy, lying at the very edge of the bed, as close as he could get to the chair next to him. And sprawled across the chair, snoring softly with his long legs draped in a stolen blanket, was the captain of the Enterprise. The PADD was on his lap. It still displayed pages from a book. Leonard picked it up gently and turned it off. He set it on the table next to Chekov's still full water glass and a drippy looking sucker.

Jim partially wakened, looked at Leonard and smiled drowsily. "Hey Bones, I'm reading to Chekov."

"I can see that captain." McCoy said.

"Don't yell, okay? He gets lonely down here by himself." Kirk said with his eyes closed. Leonard glanced at the ensign. He had one hand under his head, the other rested on the top of the visitor's chair, like he wanted to be sure it wouldn't move.

"You can go on and sleep on a bed Jim, there's plenty." Leonard whispered.

"No, I'm fine," the captain replied, turning on his side and pulling the blanket to his chin. He fell back asleep immediately.

Leonard looked at Chekov, sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. He looked back at the captain and said, "For what it's worth kid, I think you are definitely better than fine."