Disclaimer: Star Trek and its characters belong to Paramount. But they probably wouldn't touch this with a ten foot pole.

Summary: A 'companion piece' to PineTrees's "A Matter of Grace", which arose out of the discussion following said story on ASC.

For PineTrees and Jungle Kitty. Because it's all their fault. (And many thanks to PineTrees for graciously permitting me to post this).

Fall From Grace
By Rocky


"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a farmer," McCoy said as he materialized on the Kirk homestead in Iowa, annoyed at having his leave disrupted.

"Agricultural experience will not be required," Spock said. McCoy hadn't heard him approach. "As I informed you earlier, the matter at hand merely involves farming implements."

"I'm not an engineer, either. Get Scotty."

"Mr. Scott is not available, but even if he were--perhaps I did not make myself clear. There has been an--" Spock hesitated "--accident with a piece of automated farm equipment. Involving the Captain."

"Jim's hurt?" McCoy set off toward the barn at a run. "Why in the blue blazes didn't you say so, or better yet, beam him directly to Starfleet Medical? In the time you've wasted--"

"Please, Doctor. The Captain's situation is not--life-threatening, as it were."

McCoy halted. He turned toward Spock, noting the Vulcan had flushed a shade of pale green. "Why don't you start from the beginning? What's Jim gotten himself into this time?"

Spock closed his eyes briefly but kept walking. "The Captain was...utilizing a piece of equipment. A...malfunction occurred, possibly due to a system overload, and he is unable to extricate himself."

"Hold it right there. You mean to say you called me because Jim got his head stuck in what, an 'automated rice picker'?" McCoy said with a grin.

"It was not a rice picker," Spock said, accelerating his pace so McCoy had to run to keep up with him. "Although this region of Earth is known for being a major producer of grain, rice is not--"

"Then what was it?" McCoy said, forestalling the lecture.

"A milking machine."

"A milking machine?" McCoy repeated incredulously. "What was he doing with--"

Spock gestured inside the open barn door. "And it wasn't, strictly speaking, his head."



Forty minutes later, McCoy emerged from the barn, still unsure of whether to laugh or cry.

"How is the Captain?" Spock asked. He looked as though he hadn't moved from his spot in all that time.

"He'll be all right. No permanent damage."

Spock exhaled in seeming relief.

"Of course, he did manage to do a number on himself," McCoy said, carefully wiping his hands. "Aside from quite a bit of bruising and uh, swelling, in the affected area, I noticed a few gashes around his face. Those will go away by themselves. When he wakes up--"

"Wakes up? Doctor McCoy, were the Captain's injuries so severe you were required to anesthetize him?"

"Not at all."

"Then why is he unconscious?" Spock asked urgently. "Was he that way when you found him?"

"No, he was awake and talking. In pretty good spirits, all things considered," McCoy said. "He just fainted away toward the end, as I was giving him some final pieces of medical advice."

"Indeed? What did you say to him?"

"I just told him the next time he was in the mood for 'a change of pace', to come by Sickbay and I'd bob his--" McCoy grinned wickedly "--ears!"

FINIS

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