Lying in bed with my eyes half-closed to the artificial light of day, I debated how convincing a sick day would be at this point. Because god knows I want to do anything but report for duty. Though if I didn't, Bones would come and find me and berate me for taking a single day for myself. Then force me to report to the bridge like a child. I sighed. He's horrible, really. I rolled out of bed, and glanced at my reflection in the mirror. Wow. Disheveled hair, quite a bit of stubble that really shouldn't be there, and dark circles under glassy eyes. Attractive, I am. I took a half-assed shower and shaved before ten minutes had passed. My gold uniform was pressed neatly on top of my dresser, and as I threw it on, I made once last check to see if I could pass as dying of some alien disease that cased me to be bedridden. No such luck. The lack of a hideous skin condition made me acknowledge the fact that Bones would see right through my lie because my beautiful body wasn't ruined at the moment. Damn his knowledge of my vanity. It ought to be illegal for one single person to know so much about me and constantly use it to my disadvantage.

I made my way onto the bridge by using several out-of-the-way corridors. Not that I was avoiding certain people or anything, I just fancied an adventure. Really. I hadn't just evaded Spock's every feasible route on purpose, it's a mere coincidence.

Plus, he started the avoidance. If he wished to ignore my casual conversation I usually tried to start up on the way to the bridge and repeatedly decline my invitations for dinner or conversation, it's his loss, not mine. Yes, I was a bit insulted.

Ok, quite insulted.

Jim Kirk is never turned down for a date.

Not that I wanted to date Spock, but it's the principle of the thing that matters. So, I am currently staying out of Spock's hair by trying to not see him at all. It's a genius plan, if I do say so myself. Except for when I have to actually work with him. Then the plan sort of falls apart because it's absolutely impossible to function without responding to your first officer.

I reached the bridge without crossing Spock's path, to my delight. Sitting straight up in my chair, I surveyed everyone around me. Everyone was at their post except for Spock. That was odd. He's absolutely never late. Ever. Even when he should be asleep in Sickbay. Which is fairly frequent, come to think of it. He's got this bad habit of blocking attacks that were obviously meant for me and then getting injured. I can take care of myself, thank you very much. This has yet to register on Spock's radar, probably because he views me as this helpless human simply because I lack Vulcan strength and actually feel emotions. Though I'm grateful that he finds me worthy enough to keep alive, being a damsel in distress is getting pretty old. I don't need a knight in shining armor rescuing me every time I manage to offend alien cultures. Or entire planets.

I waited another ten minutes before I began to worry quite a bit. Spock should have comm'd me by now if he was not going to show up. Or Bones should've, because the only reason Spock isn't here would be that he's honestly dying. I started shifting in my seat. Yes, that man annoys me a majority of the time, but he can't just leave me in the dark. Captains need to be aware of the condition of their bridge officers, regardless of whether said officer is a pain in the ass. I hit my intercom a little more viciously than intended.

"Kirk to Spock."

No response.

"Spock, come in."

Again, no response.

Uhura had turned to look at me, along with Sulu and Chekov, and were obviously worried. I smiled wryly. Best not to let them think I was seriously concerned.

"Kirk to McCoy."

"McCoy here. What d'you want, Jim?"

"Is Spock unconscious on a bed down there? He didn't report for duty and has yet to answer his communicator."

"If I had him down here, you'd know. I'll send Nurse Chapel to see if he's alive in his quarters."

"No need, I'll check myself; there's absolutely nothing to do up here."

I shut my comm off, and tried to make my face neutral. I was having a minor panic attack going on, which was an odd feeling. 'Spock' and 'panic' weren't two things I usually associated with each other.

"Sulu, you've got the bridge."

Striding quickly from my chair to the turbolift, I tried to formulate an idea to explain why Spock was MIA. I drew a blank. It just wasn't a Spock thing to do. Before this, Spock had tried to show up to work when he'd been shot not ten minutes before, so why would he be gone now? He might be getting a little annoyed of the monotony that we've had recently, but I seriously doubted that. He was probably fine with the fact that I hadn't been put into, and therefore needed saving from, a near-death scenario in the past three weeks. His break-up with Uhura had happened months ago, and they had parted on good terms - not that Spock would ever let something as trivial as personal relations keep him from work. I hated not knowing what was wrong. If I knew, I could be doing something about it. Since I don't, I can't. The turbolift doors glided open, and I stepped out and made my way to Spock's quarters.

I halted in front of the doors. I've never been in Spock's quarters before. Though I knew it would be very un-Vulcan to decorate living quarters, I was hoping to get some sort of insight to what Spock was like under his stoic façade. He must enjoy doing something in his free time. Logic puzzles or painting or collecting buttons from various planets that say stupid things. I doubted the button collecting, but one could hope. Shaking off my curiosity, I took a deep breath. I wasn't going to be nosy; merely an anxious captain wondering where his first officer was. I pressed the admittance button on his door. It didn't open.

Apparently, Spock wasn't in the mood for company.

I hit the button again and held it. I was still being ignored. Now, I was annoyed. I punched in my authorization code and as I stepped through the whooshing doors, I started blinking furiously. It was pitch black. Why, exactly, was completely unknown to me.

"Spock...?"

"Please leave, Captain."

"Oddly enough, I came to get you. You were supposed to report for duty almost an hour ago. Want to tell me why you didn't?"

"I am unfit for duty, please leave me in peace."

Spock sounded strained, like he was in pain. I peered into the depths of the room I had walked to adjacent to his main room. Spock was sitting cross-legged in the corner with his head resting on his tented hands. He didn't look like he was in pain, but then again, he never did.

"Spock, are you sick? McCoy actually is capable of treating Vulcan illnesses. I know he's not your favorite person, but do you want me to get him to come he-"

"Captain. Leave."

Ok, annoyed and cautious. Spock has never cut me off before, even when I've rambled about complete nonsense under alien narcotics. I took a moment to observe the room we were in. It was obviously his bedroom, for his bed and dresser were on the other side or the room. A small table towards this side of the room had various candles lit that I assumed were for meditation, along with a Vulcan chess board. A painting of Vulcan hung on the wall behind me that looked to be rather old, probably a gift from his childhood he now cherished. Sometimes I forget how much Spock has lost. No one ever brings up the destruction of Vulcan around him, but when he's eating in the mess hall and he stares off into space without touching his food or moving a muscle, I know he must be thinking back to that day. He's never let that interfere with work in any way, but sometimes I wish there was something I could do about it. Uhura had implied once, briefly and vaguely, that Spock had talked to her about it, but not for very long. For someone who values the complete and utter control of emotions, having such an onslaught of them in a single day must have been terrifying. Whenever Chekov talks about home, I see Spock's attention wane, like he's trying to block out memories of his own that surface unintentionally. Through my failed attempts at friendship with Spock, I'd hope to make him feel more at ease with the crew, more like he matters, more like he's an important part of our lives. It wasn't much, but it was the best I had to offer him. I looked at him now, and tried to see past his surface image.

"Spock, please tell me what's wrong. What can I do for you? You can't try to tell me you're fine, you're not, and I'd like to help."

Spok looked up at me then. His eyes were dilated and there was a sheen of sweat along his forehead. Spock never sweats, even in intense heat. Today was just full of surprises.

"I require to be alone. It will pass."

"You're sweating. You never sweat. Are you sure you don't need McCoy? He could give you something for...whatever it is you have."

Spock stiffened at the mention of Bones' name. Ok, red flag. Spock stared into his lap and gripped his knees tightly.

"Get. Out. Now."

I was now quietly freaking out. This was completely out of character for Spock. That was actual anger slipping into his voice, an emotion he frequently denied even possessing. I knelt down by Spock, and moved to bring his chin up so we could see eye-to-eye.

"Spock..."

Before I could touch him, he grabbed my wrist. Quite forcefully, too.

"What the hell, Spock?!"

Spock was shaking, and threw my wrist back at me. He started rocking ever so slightly in his position on the floor while holding his head in his hands.

"I am not in control, I need to be alone, now," he croaked.

I got up. Yes, Spock was scaring the hell out of me, but I had no idea what to do. Physical contact seemed to be out of the question, along with conversation. I did the only thing I could. I turned around, left Spock in his current unstable state, and went straight to Sickbay at a half-run. Bones would know what do, I'm sure, and would fix Spock. Bones would grumble, but manage to cure Spock from whatever illness or disease he's suffering from. I reached Sickbay in record time and looked around. Nurse Chapel was standing several feet away with a handful of hyposprays and a patient who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else. I winced for him. Nurse Chapel was ruthless with those. She turned around and smiled.

"He's pacing in his office. You've got him all worked up, though he won't admit it. Ensign Johnson, stop fidgeting, these aren't going to kill you, and if you'd stop to think before eating whatever it is Ensign Cooper had given you . . . "

Bones stopped his pacing as I entered his office. He looked a little frazzled, but then again, he usually does whenever there's a possibility of something being wrong with a member of the crew, regardless of who it is. There was a small stack of medical PADDs on his desk, along with various chemicals and vials that were always there, and which were usually toxic. According to Bones, those deadly ingredients go into things like inoculations and prevent our deaths, but the rest of the bridge crew, myself included, believe those chemicals are precautions against intruders and particularly frustrating patients. Sometimes I wish I had something like that to knock people out when they're being more aggravating than usual, which is why I wouldn't put it past Bones.

"Did you check on Spock?"

"Yes, though it didn't do much good. He's acting abnormally weird, so now I thought you should go examine him. He's definitely not leaving his quarters, but there's something wrong. I'd go with you, but I should probably go back up to the bridge. You can handle this, right?"

"I'm a doctor; of course I can. Go do your actual job, and let me do mine."

I smiled. Bones would find out whatever was wrong with Spock, because he only got this defensive when he was really determined to fix something. Leaving the situation in Bones' capable hands, I left Sickbay and went back to the bridge. I had complete faith in Bones, and I knew Spock wouldn't stay ill for long, because I'm sure he hated being away from work. Sulu rose out of my chair when I entered the bridge, and promptly asked the question I knew everyone on the bridge was dying to know the answer to. Sulu had probably been elected as the asker-of-question in my absence, because he wasn't one to poke around others' business. Unless it was Chekov's; then Sulu was completely fine with using various means of extracting information to discover what he wanted to know.

"Is Spock all right?"

"Yes, to all of you, he's fine. McCoy's fixing him up, and I'm sure he'll be back up here in no time. Just leave him in peace for the time being, I don't think he'd appreciate visitors or assorted get-well-soon gifts at the moment."

Sulu let out a small laugh.

"Will do, Captain."

Uhura smiled and turned to look at Chekov.

"That means you too, Chekov. No Russian goodies, alcohol, or surprises for Spock."

"I would never do that! He didn't like my last surprise, so he's not getting another one."

I sat down in my chair and tried to look serious. It's a bit hard to do around this crew a majority of the time.

"Stations, everyone, I'm sure you screwed off enough while Sulu was here. Behave, so when Spock shows up he won't be shaking his head in despair at out lack of productivity. He does that often enough as it is."