The Worst Shore Leave Ever

Disclaimer: I do not own or make any profit from these characters.

Chapter 1

Lieutenant Sulu's face was a study in concentration as he maneuvered the Enterprise into space dock.

James T. Kirk smiled at his helmsman. "Good job Sulu, not one scratch."

The Enterprise was in for a three-week refit and the entire crew was looking forward to the shore leave.

Sulu turned towards the captain to return the smile. "Parking brake on sir."

"Well, in that case. I think it's time to enjoy some R & R."

"Enjoy your time off sir."

"That I will Lieutenant, thank you." Looking away from Sulu to address the rest of the bridge crew, Kirk said, " Bridge dismissed. Enjoy your time off people."

A few cheers went up, a positive mood radiating from the whole crew.

The bridge quieted as crew members shut off their stations, said their goodbyes, and made their way to the turbo lift. It didn't take long for the bridge to empty of people. Everyone was eager to collect their belongings and make their way to the space port.

Jim knew his shore leave would not really start until next weekend. He had a debriefing, and meetings with the brass all week. He hated the idea of leaving his precious ship for the next few weeks, but knew that Scotty would be overseeing the refitting. Scotty had refused to take shore leave, muttering about "incompetent lackeys messin' with his lass." He felt better knowing she was being left in loving hands.

Taking a deep breath, he patted his chair, took one last look around, and walked off the darkened bridge.

By the end of the week, Jim was ready for the weekend and his shore leave to start. The meeting today had gone way past the scheduled time, but everyone had agreed they would rather stay late and finish. No one wanted to come in on Saturday and Jim agreed with the sentiment. By the time twenty hundred hours rolled around, he had a pounding headache and was ready to be done, they had been at it since oh seven hundred.

Jim shoved his papers into his briefcase with relief when at last the meeting concluded. Admiral Archer eyed the young captain with concern, as they rose from their seats. "You better put off starting that shore leave 'til tomorrow Kirk. You're looking a little peaked, feeling alright son?"

"Yes Admiral, nothing a little fresh air won't cure," Jim assured him. "Thank you for your concern sir and I think I will turn in early. It's been a long week." Jim smiled, turning on the Kirk charm.

Archer snorted, "Ha, it's been a long year for you! Sorry we can't give you more time off son, but with the fleet so reduced right now, we really need you back out there as soon as possible."

"I understand sir."

The admiral clasped Jim on the shoulder and steered him out of the room. "Go on, get out of here."

A blast of cold air hit Jim full in the face as he stepped out of the building. It was November and should have been around sixty degrees Fahrenheit, but they were experiencing below normal temperatures for this time of the year. The breeze coming off the bay made him shiver and Jim flipped up the collar of his coat, making his way toward the temporary housing assigned to him. He couldn't see having permanent housing when he was hardly ever on planet. Besides, Starfleet provided great temporary housing for their senior officers.

Jim's mind wandered as he walked. He smiled to himself, thinking of Bones' quick com last night. He was really happy for his friend. Bones was having a great time with Joanna this week. Jim snorted, thinking of Jocelyn. The cold witch couldn't very well deny one of Starfleet's golden crew visitation rights. Of course, the Starfleet lawyer, that Jim sent to speak to her, might have had something to do with it. Starfleet had been more than willing to provide an attorney at Jim's request.

Speaking of cold, Jim was really shivering now. He was glad when he finally entered his building, taking the lift to the appropriate floor.

Jim set his briefcase on the side table after entering his apartment, removed his coat, and threw it over a chair.

"Computer," he called out, "raise room temperature five degrees."

He passed through to the small kitchenette and replicated a cup of hot tea. After stirring in two heaping spoons of sugar, he carried it over to the couch, kicked off his shoes and settled down with his tea. Through the large window, the campus was laid out before him in all its nighttime glory, and beyond that, he could see ships lit up, moving slowly out on the bay. He remembered looking out the same window five days ago and being impressed. Heck, he was still impressed with the view. It was a big step up from the lowly, windowless dorm room he had shared during his academy days.

"I guess being a starship captain has some perks," he reflected.

He relaxed for the first time that day, feeling the hot tea and heated air finally warming his aching body. The idea of getting something for his headache floated through his mind, but the effort seemed overwhelming, so Jim set his empty tea-cup to the side, slouched down, closed his eyes and drifted off.

Something was pulling Jim from his sleep. He slowly became aware of a grinding, churning feeling in his stomach. "Oh no, this is not good." No sooner had the thought crossed his mind, than he was jumping off the couch and lurching drunkenly in his mad dash towards the bathroom. He didn't really have time to wonder why the room was tilting madly. His need outweighed his awareness.

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Sometime later, Jim jerked awake as his head slipped off his arm, descending toward the toilet bowl. He was seated on the cold tile floor with a towel over his shoulders trying to keep warm. He was utterly and totally miserable! His head was now laying on one arm as he slumped over the toilet. The commode was probably not the cleanest place to be resting his head, but he was too sick to care. Relief came with the realization that the room had finally stopped spinning. The dry heaves had finally ended and he knew he needed to dredge up the energy and put himself to bed. Sleep was what he needed.

Pushing himself off the floor, Jim grabbed onto the counter top for leverage. "Oh crap!" he thought, dropping back down as the room started to spin again. Rethinking his strategy, he decided to crawl to the bedroom. He would have dragged a garbage can with him, but thanks to modern conveniences, it was built into the wall. "Well, no more throwing up for me," he muttered. Finally ensconced in his bed and flat on his back, exhaustion took over.

Luckily it seemed his statement was self-prophesying and he slept the rest of the night.

Sunday afternoon found Jim staring out the large window again, but not really cognizant of the view. He refused to admit defeat and stay in bed, "This was his shore leave dammit and he was not going to be sick." Unfortunately that train of thought was not working. Another shiver racked his frame and he burrowed further into the comforter he had appropriated from the bed. Only his nose poked out from the front of his cocoon. Jim's body slowly began to list to the right as his eyes drooped. Suddenly, a sneeze jerked his whole body forward, causing him to almost fall off the couch.

His head was throbbing along with his heart beat. "Argh!" There wasn't a spot on his body that didn't ache. He had been awake for twenty-five hours now and was desperately in need of sleep. Between the sneezing, stuffy head, coughing, vomiting, and all around miserableness, he just couldn't seem to get more than ten minutes of sleep at a time. "Thith thuckth!" he complained around his stuffy nose.

Jim made the supreme effort, setting aside his "puke" bowl and tissues, he pulled his blanket tighter around his shoulders, and sluggishly shuffled his way to the small kitchenette. A small mountain of dirty tissues was left behind.

Taking another dose of the cold medicine he'd had sent up yesterday morning, his whole body seemed to spasm with revulsion. "Yuck!" The foul tasting stuff didn't seem to be helping at all. "Tea," he muttered, "I need hot tea."

He stood leaning against the counter, waiting for the replicator, and feeling sorry for himself. "Thith ith the wortht thore leave ever." Pressing the heel of his left hand to his eye, he tried to relieve the pressure. His head felt like an overripe Casaba melon.

"Ok Jim, you're getting pitiful. It'th jutht a cold." His body slumped over the counter, laying his aching head on his arms. Untold minutes later Jim's body jerked awake as the replicator beeped again, sending him off into a paroxysm of coughing. Finally catching his breath, he pushed his body slowly to an upright position and reached for the replicator door, opening it. His body felt like it was moving through molasses. Gripping the mug with one hand and his blanket with the other, he began the arduous task of maneuvering his way back to the couch. Once ensconced back in his nest, he sipped the hot tea and reveled in the lack of nausea. Finally exhausted and filled with warm tea, Jim succumbed to slumber.

This is my first attempt at writing, so if you read it, please review.