1. Chapter 1

**Treadmill Blues **

**Prologue**

_Final Notice before Official Communiqué to Starfleet Command_

_To: Captain James T. Kirk _

_From: Chief Medical Officer Leonard McCoy_

_Captain: _

_It has been almost a year since you took command of the Enterprise. In that time, we have had countless encounters with new species; both on the ground and aboard ship. During some of the those encounters; many, in fact, you have been beaten, drugged, possessed, tortured, bound, gagged, had broken bones, ruptured organs, skin maladies, time displacement, transporter malfunctions, and the list goes on. Oh yes, let's not forget the retinue of venereal diseases you have managed to contract. _

_In my two previous contacts, I have laid out how some of these incidents have had lasting effects on you, both physically and emotionally. I have asked that you report to sickbay, quarterly, for an examination and check up. My pleas have fallen on deaf ears (a side effect mentioned in my previous messages). If you are not willing, or are unable to comply with my OFFICIAL request, I will be forced - with no small amount of giddy school boy pleasure - to relieve you of duty, as is my sworn obligation._

_There is no reason (given that reason is something you still currently possess) that you should not come directly to sickbay for the aforementioned exam. If this FINAL NOTICE is not met with your personal appearance in my office within 24 hours, I will have Lt. Uhura send my assessment to Starfleet Command. And, don't think I won't include Admiral Pike._

_Kind Regards, _

_Dr. Leonard McCoy _

Jim Kirk leaned back from the monitor and blew out a long whistle. Bones was beyond pissed. This notice was down right belligerent. Kirk had a thought to reply and the let the doctor contact Starfleet. By some insane cosmic irony, they might just question his competency for not being able to control his commanding officer. Nah. But it was a nice fantasy.

Propping his feet up on his ready room desk, Kirk made popping noises by flicking his inflated cheek with an index finger. What was he going to do? He hated sickbay more than any other place on the ship. Granted, he seemed to visit the antiseptic cave only slightly less often than the bridge, his quarters, and the rec room. Bones was supposed to be his friend. If the good doctor could solve the problems and heal the injuries as they presented, what was the point of regular checkups or fitness exams? They were a waste of time and would only serve to confirm what he already knew: he was in perfect health.

In fact, what the Kirk could really use was a day off; not more strenuous activity. Plus, he had and allergic reaction to the adhesive used on the electrodes Bones applied during the last exam. 'No problem,' he had said. 'I have a hypo for that.' Kirk was aware that Bones donned a devilish grin every time he gave Kirk a hypo. He enjoyed it way too much. But, none the less, he may have to comply with his friend's request. Though he had made contact with many new species and solved more than a few intergalactic disputes, he was still a rookie Captain, and no more than a child in the eyes of some at Starfleet Command. So, in the interest of diplomacy, he would go see Bones and get the damned thing over with.

Not fifteen minutes later, Kirk unceremoniously entered sickbay. With no shortage of command swagger, he plopped down in the chair opposite his CFO's desk.

"Here I am, Bones," he declared. "Do your worst."


	2. Chapter 2

**Treadmill Blues**

Chapter 2 

Leonard McCoy looked up from his monitor as if viewing a curious specimen. His eyebrows knitted, only slightly, and he tilted his head to the left.

"Well, if it isn't Captain Kirk," McCoy said with a muted sarcasm. "What can I do for you?"

Kirk shifted in the chair, a little less sure that Bones had summoned him to this very office less than a half hour ago. He decided to reassert control.

"The question, Doctor, is," Kirk replied, confidently. "What can I do for you? I can get the pesky Starfleet Medical off your back. I can give the physical exam you've been begging for for months. I can help you put a big check mark next to my name on your 'things to do list'."

McCoy leveled an incredulous stare of dead eyes mixed with parted lips; the start of gape. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His friend was brimming over with pomposity, never actually looking at the doctor, but gazing up and to the right over his left shoulder.

"Are you high?" McCoy barked. "What the hell's gotten into you; coming in and talking about what _you_ can do for _me_? You think I'm waiting in here like some fresh academy graduate just waiting for an opportunity to see the Captain with his shirt off?"

It was Kirk's turn to gape speechlessly. "Uh…"

"Okay," McCoy said, spinning his monitor to face Kirk and pointing to the left of the display. "Here's my 'to do list'. In the left hand column is you. How many items do you see?"

After leaning forward to observe the list, he looked up at McCoy and said: "Eight."

"That's right," his friend said, mild irritation overcoming his affected calm. "How many are in the other column? Don't answer. Eleven. That's for today, for the rest of the crew. Kind of uneven, don't you think?"

Kirk decided to keep quiet even though he was mulling over a myriad possible retorts.

"Jim!" McCoy exclaimed, angrily. "Are you listening to what I'm saying?"

Kirk shifted his gaze to finally meet Bones' eyes. Clowning time was over. It should never have started. Sometimes he liked to play with Bones; tease him a little, but he should have known better than to make light of his friend's professional obligations. Regardless of how he felt about being poked and prodded and pinched, he would need to endure if he wanted back into the doctor's good graces.

"I'm sorry, Bones," Kirk said with genuinely apologetic grace. "I'm not trying to make your life hard. You know I hate this stuff. I only come in here when absolutely necessary."

"Which, for one reason or another, is after every away mission," McCoy replied, letting some long repressed exasperation bubble to the surface. "Do you enjoy getting hurt, sick, and hung over?"

"Wouldn't being hung over constitute sickness?" Kirk couldn't help adding.

McCoy practically sneered at the kid's brazen disrespect for his office. "Dammit Jim! This is serious business. I can't have the Captain of this ship throwing himself headlong into dangerous situations. First of all, I don't need a dead captain on my resume. Secondly, when you create trouble, or even confront trouble that finds you, you're putting other crewmen in danger. Now, I know the duties of a captain, and I respect your rank, but, Jim, you need to settle down. "

Kirk's face turned dark. Conflicting emotions wrestled inside him. Bones was attacking his command and accusing him of endangering his crew. He was saying that the captain put his personal agenda ahead of the safety of the people in his charge. It made him angry. But (it was the kind of but that made difference), he also knew that Bones was worried about him. Though the doctor was a scant six to seven years older, he acted like an over protective father. Except when he didn't. There were plenty of times when Bones had allowed him to make mistakes that had fairly serious consequences. Painful consequences.

"When I hear the phrase 'settle down'," Kirk said, deciding to remain calm. "Two things come to mind: a scolded child and a grave stone. I'm not particularly fond of either one, but I know which one I'd prefer."

McCoy narrowed his eyes. "I know which one you prefer as well. That's what worries me. You'd rather die than take a little direction. You may be a genius, Jim, but there are people out there who are smarter than you. You have raw potential, but even after a year, you're still reckless. You've seen men and women die in battle, but still you push the envelope, like you have something to prove. Is that it, Jim; do you have something to prove?"

Kirk bristled. "What if I do, Bones? What business is it of yours? You're not my father. You're more like a nursemaid who thinks a few bumps and bruises are too much for their precious little baby! I'm sick of being told what I should do and who I should be!"

McCoy flushed beat red at being called a nurse maid and stepped around his desk to stand face to face with his…what was he at the moment? Friend? Captain? Patient? It seemed he was all and none in this instant. But, he couldn't let this escalate any further. He made a conscious effort to defuse the volatile situation.

"To tell you the truth, I wouldn't either," McCoy said, returning his voice to even keel. "I think if you would just tap the breaks every once in a while; think before you leap, you'd have a lot less people nagging you about your behavior. No one is asking you to change who you are. I, personally, wouldn't think of it. Neither would Admiral Pike. Your potential is evident. I think the general desire is to see you show just a little restraint."

Kirk thought about the restraint he was currently showing and said: "I have most of a mind to punch your lights out, Bones."

At the comment, McCoy raised both eyebrows in a mischievous grin. "Really, now. What's occupying the uncommitted section?"

"The consequences," Kirk replied, with a creeping smile of his own.

"The what?" McCoy asked, putting a hand to his right ear.

"That's all you're going to get, Bones. I said it. I know you heard. 'Nuff said."

"Fair enough," McCoy said as he turned away from Kirk and return to his chair behind his desk. "So when do you think would be a convenient time to do these test and discuss a regular regimen of physical exercise?"

"I was hoping to put it off indefinitely," Kirk replied plaintively. "But when did regular exercise come into the picture? I finally come in for the tests and you want to pile on more?"

"I might as well lay out my plan while I have you here," McCoy said while tapping on his keyboard.

"You have a job to do, Bones. Let's get it done." 


End file.
