Shower of Stars

by Naithom

All Chapel wanted to do was take a shower and crawl into bed. That said, Fate has a twisted sense of humor.

It had been a long seventy-two hours, but finally, finally, Christine was able to get back to her cabin for a shower and some much needed sleep.

There had been so many casualties from the Romulan attack but they were finally stabilized and McCoy had demanded that all of medical staff who had ended up working the 72 hour battle continuously to "hit the bed and not come out until Christmas". Christine was never so grateful to follow an order in her life.

Her brain felt like cotton and her eyelids like iron. The images of her cool pillow and soft comforter were like glimpses of heaven. But first, the shower, a real, hot water shower, a chance to wash away the soreness and grime of the last three days. Just the idea of letting the water beat across her neck and back felt freeing. She shed her clothes, threw them in the laundry chute, grabbed her fluffy, pink robe and her favorite nightshirt which said "Do you want to speak to the doctor in charge or the nurse who actually knows what's going on". It had been a gag gift from Bones the Christmas after she had joined the staff.

She had a whole collection of nightshirts with funny sayings she had been given over the years as gifts. Shirts that read: "Stop me before I intubate the doctor", "Real nurses don't do decaf", "That's a brave thing to say when I'm holding the catheter" and the always popular, "Do something stupid – I need the job security".

The warmth of the shower and the smell of the vanilla body wash lulled her even closer to unconsciousness. The stresses and aches drained away with the water and soap.

*Maybe I'll just towel dry my hair tonight and deal with it tomorrow -*

She didn't exactly hear the remaining Romulan warbird's dying attack but when she woke up she was able to piece together what had occurred. The first sight she had when she opened her eyes reminded her of an abstract painting. It took her a moment she was looking through the pebbled shower door. It was hard to tell if her head was still ringing from where she hit it or whether it was the emergency sirens.

*Damn, damn, damn! Oh well, no rest for the wicked...* She said to herself as she pushed herself up and started to open the shower door.

Except that the shower door refused to open. It was then she realized that something very large was blocking the door.

*This can not be happening…*

In the heat of the moment she tapped her shoulder and then remembered where she was and what she wasn't wearing.

*I am so glad no one was here to see that. Wait a minute _*

"Nyota!" she yelled out in hopes that the communications officer had been in her quarters but no response came. For a second, she panicked at the thought of her best friend being unconscious or worse in her quarters and then banished the thought from her mind as it did nothing to help the situation.

*Think, Christine. If you can't get out, how can you let someone know you're here?*

She sat on the small bench in the shower and examined her surroundings. Tiled walls, shower bench, frosted shower door, water jet, sonic jet…

The sonic jet! Connections to the rest of the ship!

She opened the panel and worked on formulating a plan. She had to communicate her location, identity and situation. Then once she found the right connections, Christine prayed she was remembering the lessons in Morse Code that Uhura taught her one night when they were bored.

D 1 CHAPEL TRAPPED

Over and over she tapped out that message until finally, she sat down on the bench to rest for a moment. Her head still hurt and she knew she was going to have some lovely bruises on her shoulder and back from the original impact. She combed her fingers through her hair in an effort to both untangle it and check for any contusions. She found one, a small one, on the side of her head. In her mind she went through the checklist: nausea – no, dizziness – that was questionable considering the lack of sleep, lack of concentration, same problem. She doubted she had a concussion but without a tricorder, it was no guarantee. Thus, she would have to try to stay awake until help arrived.

Within 10 – 15 minutes, Christine heard sounds that reminded her of nothing more than miners breaking through rubble.

*Finally, it's about time that my luck changed!* she thought as she breathed a sign of relief. While she knew that the situation would invariably lead to a lot of kidding from the security and engineering teams, she also remembered all the times she had kidded them about various situations and reasoned that from a karmic perspective, her time had come.

"I'm in here! Hey, I'm in here!" she called.

"Miss Chapel!"

Christine recognized Spock's voice, closed her eyes, counted to ten and decided that the gods were definitely over-charging her.

"I'm trapped in the shower, Spock. Something is blocking the door."

"Hey, Blessing, you OK in there? I have to admit if I'd have made bet on which female crew member would be stuck in the head, I'd have bet on Rand or Palamas!" Kevin O'Reilly's cheerful banter made Christine chuckle.

"It wasn't my idea, Kevin, if I had had my druthers I would have been in bed."

Christine could tell from the silence outside the door to the bathroom that things would not be nearly as cheerful had she been in her bed when the attack hit. Then another horrible thought crossed her mind.

"Nyota!"

"Lt. Uhura is unharmed and was extremely relieved to receive your message."

"Thank heavens! Were there many casualties this time?"

"None serious injured, mostly structural damage." As Spock answered her question he tapped his badge. "Spock to Dr. McCoy."

"McCoy here, Spock. Have you found her?"

"Indeed, Doctor."

"Well, is she OK? Was she injured?"

At this point, in order to keep her friend and mentor from stressing too much, Christine called out.

"Just a knock on the head, boss. As soon as they can get me out of here I'll report back in for duty."

"Christine? Where are you? You sound like you're in a cave."

"Close, but no cigar. I'm trapped in the shower."

The silence, for a few poignant seconds, was deafening.

"Did you say you were in the shower?" The shock and amusement was palpable.

"I'm not going to live this down, am I, Bones?"

The CMO was totally unable to stifle his laughter. "I…don't know…what you mean… I'm…. merely… concerned about your….welfare."

"Uh huh. Remind me to be extra concerned come your next physical, Leonard."

"Hey, Doc, you coming to help? We're selling raffle tickets!" kidded Kyle.

"Avery Declan John Kyle, you sell raffle tickets and no more cock-a-leekie for you!"

"Geez, Blessing, that's kinda violent for someone just wanting to see you naked, don't you think?" said Kevin.

Kyle slapped him in the arm, saying in disdain, "It's my favorite soup, you moron!"

"Gentlemen, might I suggest that you get back to work so that we might extricate Nurse Chapel and get her to Sickbay for evaluation without the need for wagering between the crew and the senior staff?"

Christine could hear several embarrassed, "Yes, sirs" and "Sorry, sirs" as the men moved back into her quarters to work.

Through the teasing, McCoy once again could be heard on the communicator.

"Spock, any chance that you could run a scan and see if Christine was concussed when the blast hit?"

"Unfortunately, Doctor, because of the damage to the conduits, scans are very likely to be unreliable."

"I was afraid you'd say that." For a moment, the physician pondered. "Guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way. You're going to have to stay with her and keep her conscious until we can ascertain whether any concussion occurred."

Christine balked. "Now, Len, that's not funny! You know how long I've gone without sleep"

"I'm not being funny, Christine. We don't know how long you were unconscious.."

"There was a time difference of 25 minutes between the first blast and the first reports of Nurse Chapel's SOS." Added Spock.

"So, Spock, until we know she hasn't been concussed, don't let her sleep and get her here as soon as you're able. McCoy out."

Christine was, as her grandmother would have said, peeved. And, when she really admitted it to herself, she was most peeved because her mentor was correct, darn him. Her black mood was abruptly interrupted by the First Officer.

"Since we have been medically ordered to keep you awake, may I suggest that we go over the lab schedules for this month?" He suggested.

"Mr. Spock, I've gone without sleep for three days. We can go over lab schedules or we can keep me awake, but we can't do both. I think you'll have to come up with a better idea to keep me up."

Spock failed to respond and Christine amused herself with the realization that it must be just as difficult for him to come up with conversation topics in this situation as it was for her. As humorous as that thought was, it was not enough to keep her from yawning. And, as if on cue, the shower poured down on the hapless nurse a stream of cold water. Christine shrieked and clawed at the water controls with no luck. Then just as suddenly, the water stopped.

At that moment Christine would have given her life savings for a towel. Heck, she'd give her first born for her terry cloth robe. While her teeth were still chattering she thought she heard the sound of an access panel clicking in place.

"S-spock, t-tell me, y-you d-did not j-just d-do that."

"You stated that I would need to come up with a better idea to keep you awake."

While her first instinct was to be furious, she suddenly had a flash on mischievous inspiration based on the absurd situation. Seconds later, the First Officer was doused in equally cold water from over the shower door panel. Her aim had have been perfect as she heard Spock gasp and sputter.

Before he could even utter a word, Christine quipped, "Given the fact that you have been awake at least as long as I, it seems I should assist in keeping you awake as well."

"While your logic may appear sound, Nurse Chapel, your actions bordered on insubordination."

"Spock, I am not on duty, in my shower in my own quarters, naked as the day I was born and wet from head to toe. I doubt there's a JAG officer in Starfleet that's not going to agree that I have the reasonable assumption that I am off duty and at ease." She quipped.

"Are you really, at ease, Christine?" Spock's voice was like deep velvet and while she knew better than to read anything into that question, it sent shivers down her spine.

"Well, as at ease as any woman can be trapped in her shower with the man…who's her superior officer standing on the other side of the shower door. I mean…"

"Whoops, nearly said man I'm in love with.." she thought. "I must be more exhausted than I thought. Lord, hope Spock didn't notice that or thinks it was my teeth chattering."

She attempted to back herself out of the embarrassment she was feeling.

"I, uh, mean that even in personal…as opposed to professional situations…this sort of thing skips right over casual dating and seems more in line with marriage or living together level comfort."

"Oh my word, tell me I didn't just say that! Now he's going to think I'm proposing."

With a moan of frustration, she slumped down on the shower bench and put her head in her hands.

"Miss Chapel, are you unwell?"

"Just a little t-t-t-transcendental mortif-f-fication over the situation. Nothing to concern yourself over."

For several minutes, all was silent. Christine wasn't sure if she wanted to raise her head to see if his amorphous figure was still there. She also wasn't sure if she would have been pleased or saddened by his departure. His sudden return to the conversation answered at least one of the questions.

"Since you suggested earlier that we need a new topic for discussion, might I ask that you explain to me an unfamiliar element of human culture?"

"Spock, bless your green little Vulcan heart, thank you for changing the subject!"

"Certainly, Mr. Spock. W-w-what element of human culture would you like me to explain?"

"Dating."

"OK, it's official – in my last life I must have seriously been a puppy kicking, balloon popping hell on wheels. It's the only explanation that makes any sense."

As she started speaking, she was impressed that her voice was rather calm for a woman having a nervous breakdown. She assumed that it came from her nurse's training but knew even training for life and death situations took her only so far.

"D-d-dating?"

"Yes, such practices are unnecessary on Vulcan, so I am unfamiliar with the mores behind the practice."

In an effort worthy of a Vulcan, Christine decided to channel her previous life as a graduate teaching assistant and started teaching on the subject of dating.

"In the distant p-p-past, humans who were the heads of powerful f-f-families, clans or kingdoms practiced arranged m-m-marriages in order to strengthen family and political ties. Over time, the p-p-practice modified because of s-s-several issues including genetic inbreeding, the takeover of governments by political parties instead of families and the desire of individuals to make the decision instead of leaving it to a third-party.

The point of dating is to g-g-get to know another individual socially and ascertain whether this is someone with whom you would want to build a relationship. Sometimes it works and s-s-sometimes it doesn't. And success can come in different forms: friendship, short-term dating, or c-c-committed relationship."

"But what constitutes a date?"

"Dates can be formal or informal. The point is to spend time enjoying each other's company and learning about each other. Often it includes sh-sh-sharing a meal and an activity that's mutually enjoyable such as watching vids, going to concerts, sporting events, getting together with friends…"

"So, the individuals go out in social situations in public?"

"Yes, but dates can also include activities that are just one on one."

Christine closed her eyes and prayed that Spock wasn't into double entendres as she quickly continued.

"Some of my favorite memories of dating were just sitting on the swing porch at home and talking. Some of my best dates with R-roger were having a picnic in the research labs working on projects. Now, I'm not going to say that every woman would enjoy sitting on the floor cross legged, eating sandwiches and checking data…in fact, I'd make b-book most don't, but the point is, finding things that the couple enjoys together. In fact, Spock, you may not have realized it but y-y-you've been out on dates since you've been on the Enterprise."

She could almost hear Spock's eyebrows rise.

"When you've made plans to play chess with the captain, play music in the rec l-lounge with Uhura, or arrange to go to a restaurant with Dr. McCoy, those were, all forms of dates."

Eyebrows, we have lift-off.

"But I was not attempting to initiate a sexual relationship with any of them!"

Well, that's one way to check three rumors in the trash bin, she thought.

"They know that, Spock. Remember, dates are a means of building relationships, all kinds of relationships. In those three cases, they've built you three almost familial relationships. The Captain and Bones think of you like a brother, as does Uhura, whether you were aware of it or not."

"Indeed, I too consider Lt. Uhura, when we are off duty much as I would a younger relative such as a sister. But for those dates where the aim is a committed relationship, what about physical intimacy; when does that occur?"

Christine flushed literally from her head to her toes, not quite believing any of this was occurring. Then luckily, her sense of humor overtook her mortification.

"Each couple goes at its own rate, but usually it's best to take it slow as it's best to have emotional intimacy before physical…Spock, did your father NEVER give you "the talk"?"

"As we are promised at the age of seven, we receive information about procreation but not intimate socialization. May I ask a question on another subject?"

Christine leaned her moist back against the smooth tile against the back wall of the shower.

Nice change of topic, not subtle, but well-timed. She thought to herself.

"I have recently noted that members of the security refer to you as "Blessing", can you explain?"

Christine chuckled. "W-Well, this story usually involves a night of listening to Scotty and Pavel debating which culture is better and a Saurian brandy or two, but, here goes:

Remember all the fuss when the U'Vazii delegation was here about ten months ago? Remember the U'Vazii's, I believe it was called in the m-memo to the senior staff, "sensitivity to potential insult"? Well, early the morning that they were to arrive, Alpha shift had come in for their standard vaccination updates. Only this time, there was a screw up. A new nurse, who had come aboard from Starbase VI the n-night b-before and she was used to the labels for the meds being below, not above the med. So instead of giving the boys Trihoxime, she gave them Tadalafil which causes….well, if you have pulmonary arterial hypertension it helps alleviate the symptoms, but if you are a healthy, happy male, let's just say, it's going to…make you even healthier and happier.

Well, when Bernie, I mean, Chief Jamil contacted us ten minutes before the delegation arrived and informed us that he suddenly had all eight security team members of Alpha shift in full dress uniforms suddenly sporting erections and Carolyn P-Palamas was nowhere to be seen, we knew we had a problem on our hands…s-so to speak."

Since they had all been in for the vaccines, I immediately ch-checked to see if it had been corrupted in some way and discovered that they hadn't been used. I then checked the ones surrounding it and discovered what had happened.

Once we knew that they weren't in danger, we started problem solving on how to d-deal with the next issue – there wasn't enough time to get Beta shift there in dress uniforms so Alpha had to stay. Several suggestions were made, some more helpful than others."

At this point, Christine made the diplomatic choice to not to mention some of the more off-color and funnier comments/questions during this period of problem solving such as "Well, they could do nothing and claim it's just another form of salute", "Are they sure Palamas didn't forget to bend at the knees when she drops something again" and several nurses frantically asking if Nadelman was on Alpha duty this rotation.

"We made the decision to contact D-Delta members who were still awake to put on their dress uniforms and get there ASAP to relieve Alphas after the initial introductions. Alphas would stay at their posts but alert their formal stance to hands in front, one hand holding the wrist of the other with the hand flat pointing towards the f-floor, thus preventing anyone from noticing what was wrong. As soon as the diplomatic s-speeches were done and the delegation had been shone to their rooms, the Alphas would come here to receive meds to offset the reactions or, if they preferred or were allergic to the meds, be relieved of duty for the day in order to deal with the situation more naturally. After they were found to once again be fit for duty and given the correct vaccination, they relieved the Deltas and all was as it should be. Then I wrote up a suggestion to Starfleet Medical that all pharmaceutical labeling should be standardized to avoid s-situations like these occurring again.

The boys started calling me Blessing after that as a riff off my surname and the fact that I have saved them from, not only life-threatening situations, but also ego-threatening situations. And knowing the s-security staff as I do, they would rather die than be embarrassed.

So, from that morning's activities, I received a new nickname, the most carefully worded accommodations I have ever had from both Security and Medical and last month, I became a godmother twice."

"Indeed. If you weren't so proficient as a nurse and researcher, you might want to consider the concept of utilizing your skills in Emergency Ops."

Christine found herself feeling a warm glow from the complement even as she still felt slightly chilled sitting on the tiled bench. That said, she wasn't sure if it was lack of sleep or the work being done that made her feel as though the lights had blinked.

"Thank you, Spock. That's something to keep in mind."

Even though she was well aware that Spock couldn't see her through the glass door, she was somehow sure that he knew she was blushing from head to toe. In an attempt to cover this she jovially asked, "What about you, Mr. Spock? And nicknames or plans after you retire from Star Fleet?"

"Vulcans do not give each other sobriquets….that said," he paused.

Christine instantaneously realized the issue.

Raising her right hand, she jokingly raised her right hand and swore, "I, Christine Gael Chapel, do solemnly swear not to mention to anyone, especially Dr. Leonard McCoy, what I am about to be told. So, what did she call you?"

"How did you know it was my mother?"

"Spock, if Vulcans don't give nicknames to their children, it's sure that human mother's do. So what was it?"

"Yingl."

"Yingl?"

"One of my mother's doctors was an orthodox Jew from New York, a Dr. Stern. When it was obvious that I was successful as a fetus he told Mother that she had a gesunt pitzel yingl, a healthy little boy."

A yell came from the door leading to Lt. Uhura's room. "Mr. Spock, we've got the ductwork almost separated. There's some damage to the electrical systems and we've had to shut off the water but it shouldn't be much longer before we can pull the ductwork out out of the bathroom so you can get Christine out!"

Instead of Spock answering, Christine called out, "Kevin, pass the word to security and engineering that I owe them chili and brownies!"

She could tell from the cat calls that her thank-you present would be well received.

Realizing that, even with the conversation, she was on the edge of losing the battle with the cold and need for sleep, she rose, placed her arms high up in the air, pausing briefly to yawn and then bent from the hips, touching her toes. After several repetitions, she felt warmer but her head was a bit "swimmy". She sat back down on the tile bench, put her knees up and rested her head, taking cleansing breaths.

A moment or two later, Spock started the conversation again. "Apparently, cooking for starship crews is a long term habit, how long have you been cooking for others?"

Christine smiled. "Some of my earliest memories are of helping my Gran with fixing meals. My parents were part of the POD program where science teams raised their children, so I was one of the eldest of 31 kids. After feeding that tribe, the Enterprise is a snap."

"Thirty-one!"

"We had eight sets of parents and, at any point, one set was home with us and Gran while the others were away doing research. I have fifteen brothers and fifteen sisters who are Human, Betazed, Deltan, Aenari, and Caitian. It was either learn to cook for vegetarian, carnerous and omnivorous cuisines… or learn to diaper a kitten. Trust me, as much as I love my baby sisters, I'd rather feed them than diaper them as it's less dangerous. You should see holidays at my house they look like the Babel convention with tinsel."

For a moment, Christine smiled to herself as she reminisced about the loving pandemonium which was her household. The scientific discussions, the ever-changing question of new boy-friends/new girl-friends, the playing, the help with homework, they all came flooding back.

And then she thought, "Did I just invite Spock home for the holidays? Oh Lord, let me go to sleep before I embarrass myself further."

Once again hoping to steer the conversation away from potentially embarrassing topics, she jumped to something intrinsically safe – research.

"I was working on a potential research project for my off hours that you might find interesting."

"Research for your off-hours?" You could hear the amusement like brown velvet in his voice.

"As though you don't have personal research as well?" she countered in a teasing manner.

"I find I must concede the point. That is the nature of the research?"

"Finding uses for the Scalosian water in emergency medical situations. We need to counteract the accelerated cellular damage, but once we've found a way to do that, medical personnel could treat medical emergencies without worrying as much about the time factor."

"Where are you in the process?

"Working out how to compensate for the cellular degeneration. Once I can determine whether the degeneration is inherent, I'll have a better idea on how to counteract it."

"I would be quite interested in seeing your notes, when you get a chance. The water's use could be invaluable in engineering as well."

Before she could respond she heard the sound of metal scraping across tile and a voice in the background yell, "You should be able to get her now, Mr. Spock!"

Tension that she hadn't even realized she had been holding in started slipping away as water from the shower.

A moment later, a very masculine hand opened the door and reached in with a deep rose colored satin cloth that it took a moment for Christine to recognize as the sheet from Uhura's bed.

"Since we cannot as yet get to your clothing and the towels are, a bit…diminutive…"

"This will do fine, Spock. Just give me a moment, I haven't had to fix a toga since my last Greek party in college."

Once ascertaining that all was covered, she used her fingers to comb out her hair as best she could, then opened the door. This situation may have been a bit humiliating, but at least she could make a respectable entrance.

She had no way of knowing that even though she'd been through an ordeal, she looked stunning. She didn't get a chance to even consider how she looked to the man standing before her, because as she stepped gently and gracefully out of the shower, the combination of hours with no sleep and the change from the warm, moist shower to the cool, dry bathroom, caused her to pass out – straight into Spock's arms.

Warm, safe and snuggled with her face tucked into her father's neck, Christine felt herself being carried up to her room where her stuffed animals and thick comforter awaited her. Her eyes stayed relaxed and closed. All was peaceful and protected.

But, gradually, Christine realized this didn't smell like her father. This was not the smell of coffee, aftershave and fresh soil. This was a spicy smell like cinnamon, coriander and copper. It was then she knew.

*You aren't my father, I mean of course, I know you aren't my father but I was dreaming and thought my dad was carrying me…Pardon me if I am too exhausted to be mortified. I promise to make up for it later.*

*I see no reason to be "mortified" as you say. You were clearly suffering from extreme exhaustion which caused you to pass out. Luckily, there doesn't appear to be any sign of a concussion."

*Oh, really? And when in your busy schedule did you get a medical degree since we left the bathroom?*

*I was able through the light meld to assess your condition after I caught you. I thought it appropriate in order to ascertain the best route to get you to the sick bay.*

*How could you do a meld with your hands full?*

*When I placed my arm under your knees in order to cradle you, your head positioned itself perfectly on, what is called, the maternal psi position. Often infants' psi points will be placed on their mother's psi points when they are fussy or sick for comfort. As you might say, you came to see me.*

*But how is that possible, I'm not a telepath, touch or otherwise?*

*Only one member of the meld need be telepath for the meld to occur. My earliest communications with my mother were thus and she is psi-nul.*

Christine suddenly got a vision of a very young, very beautiful and very surprised Amanda as she had placed baby Spock up for a burping.

The sound of her giggling in his mind was almost as surprising to Spock.

*What had you said, "Excuse me"?*

*According to my mother, it was "More, please". Apparently, I was quite voracious as an infant.*

*Most babies are, Spock due to their growth during the early stages. Teenagers do the same thing for the same reason. How Gran kept the refrigerator stocked when we were kids, I'll never know. It's not quite so bad now as there are fewer of my siblings at home.*

*And what did your Gran keep in the refrigerator for you especially? I hear you speak of cooking for others but never your own preferences. If your grandmother were fixing your favorite comfort food, what would it be? *

Suddenly Spock saw in the shared consciousness no lavish banquet, no decadent dessert, just a simple meal of steaming tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich with a glass of milk and a slice of chocolate cake.

*Oh trust me, I can do decadent, but decadent isn't comfort.*

*Indeed.*

Christine felt Spock shift his weight.

*Sorry about this. How close are we to Sickbay?*

*Not far. I took the equipment turbolift.*

*Why?*

*Less populated, closer to Sickbay and it's close to the VIP quarters, which is where I believe you will be housed until such time as the damage to that side of the ship has been fixed*

*Faster response time in case there was a medical emergency, less strain on your back and fewer crewmembers get to see the first officer carrying a naked nurse wrapped in a satin sheet, good…idea…*

Before she got the whole thought out she felt a hint of arousal and recognized that it didn't come from her. While the idea intrigued her, she refused to allow herself to consider it anything more than physical propinquity.

*You know, Spock, with fore-planning like that, you could be officer material.* she kidded.

*Indeed. That would be desirable.*

Just then, the doors of the turbolift opened and she heard the familiar bellowing of Leonard McCoy.

"Spock, I thought I told you to keep her awake!"

She heard the familiar sound of the medical tricorder and spoke with her head still nestled in Spock's warm neck.

"Leonard, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong with me that 24 hours in bed wouldn't cure. And don't even say what I know you're thinking!"

As he read the results of the reading, he relaxed for the first time since he knew that she was trapped. In an attempt to mask his relief he grumbled, "Well, if she's not sick enough to be a patient and not well enough to work, you might was well take her over to the VIP quarters. That's where the crew with damaged quarters will be saying until things get repaired."

He then moved closer and leaning in, gave her a fatherly kiss on the cheek.

"Glad you're OK, darlin'"

Christine smiled sleepily at her mentor and father figure. "Thanks, Bones. Couldn't go anywhere anyway, you can't handle inventory to save your life."

"Impertinent, but I'll put it down to exhaustion. Spock, go put her to bed! I don't want to see her out of it for 72 hours!"

*Let's go before he realizes he let a double entrendre go to waste.* she said as she snuggled her head back onto the Vulcan's shoulder.

She didn't remember the rest of the journey but vaguely awoke as Spock was covering her with a comforter. She couldn't remember a time when she felt so peaceful and protected.

"Spock, thank you for this. For all of it. You are the only person I know that could make a ship-wide disaster actually pleasurable."

"Indeed, we should do it again."

She chuckled sleepily. "Sounds good. Next disaster, eight o'clock. Dress casually." She snuggled deeper into the pillows and blankets as she felt herself once again losing the fight to stay awake.

As she finally lost the battle with Morphius, she heard Spock say, "I was actually thinking of somewhat sooner. Maybe after you awaken you will need sustenance and I thought we might discuss your research project."

A mumbled 'uh-kay' was the only response that escaped unconsciousness. Spock adjusted the comforter, then gently swept a stray lock of hair from her face. And had the sleeping nurse been able she would have been amazed and amused to hear the Vulcan's deep, dark voice say in an affection tone –

"It's a date, then."