Chapter One

Hey guys! I know with two fics already on the go I shouldn't be starting another one, but I'm really stuck on the other two and this one has room for so many ideas that I just can't help myself. A warning now - this will be quite dark and angsty in places, but I promise that there will be humour and a happy ending.

Sorry it's a short chapter, they will definitely get longer.

In which Spock visits the hospital, Bones says several variations of dammit and I put in way too much angst for the first chapter.

Spock entered the ward, heading straight past the reception desk and ignoring the curious smile of the receptionist. The woman was quite familiar with Spock - she had been on the desk for approximately 86% of the times that Spock had visited. It had been almost two months now, two months that Jim had been in a coma that even the best doctors Starfleet had to offer could not wake him from. Spock had visited him everyday.

As he entered Jim's private room he took in a steadying breath. While he felt he was now back in control of his emotions, seeing Jim Kirk, his Captain lying small and unconscious on the biobed was strangely disarming. It sent a pang of something resembling nausea curdling in his stomach. Jim was never quiet, never still. His blue eyes were always wide open, determined. He would usually be moving, even if it was simply tapping his foot. Not anymore. Now he lay unmoving on the bed, his muscle mass decreasing with everyday that passed.

Doctor McCoy was inspecting the panels detailing Jim's condition, tapping a stylus on his arm and turned as Spock entered.

"Good morning, Doctor." Spock greeted him. "How is he today?"

McCoy sighed. "Same as ever. Vitals are stable, but his brain activity is increasing. Could be a good sign, but I'm pretty sure he's just dreaming and no damn closer to waking up."

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and surveyed the panel himself. While he was less knowledgable than Doctor McCoy, he still had some medical expertise. He surmised that the doctor was most likely correct, though the spikes in brain activity made a wave of illogical hope swell in his chest. Spock pushed the feeling aside.

"And yourself?"

McCoy's expression hardened. "Saving the life of the Starfleet's goddamn poster boy has won me some favour, but they're still not happy. Something about illegally making a serum from a homicidal alien's blood."

Spock's lips thinned, "When will they release their verdict."

"Another couple of weeks at least. They mainly just argue with each other but that doesn't stop the damn bastards from calling me in every five minutes."

"I believe they would be unjustified in taking away your medical license. You saved Jim."

"I don't know if I saved him, not...not when I see him like this." McCoy looked down at Jim, "Goddammit you reckless bastard, you need to wake up."

Spock's stomach tightened as McCoy's voice broke on the last word, but then his communicator chirped. The doctor pulled it out and swore under his breath.

"I've got to go. Keep an eye on him."

Spock refrained from pointing out that there were hundreds of medical professionals more qualified than he to watch over the Captain, but nevertheless he sat on the chair by Jim's bedside. The entire bridge crew had taken turns visiting Jim, talking to him about what had been going on. Scotty had brought Jim some wine he had managed to brew himself in the engine room and explained all the repair-work being done on the Enterprise. Uhura chatted about how she was going to make good on her promise to teach him vulcan (Spock wondered when this had occurred, but had made no comment). Chekov had read Russian stories to him and Sulu had bought a bizarre looking plant to put on the windowsill. Carol Marcus had sent flowers with a sealed letter attached, but had not visited in person. Perhaps she felt guilty as it was her father that had led to Jim being in this state.

In which case, Spock was glad she stayed away.

He had rarely left the Captain's side. He felt absurdly guilty because he could not shake the illogical feeling that he should have known. Having spoken to his future self regarding Khan...when Scotty had called up from engineering, Spock had known instantly. He had known with a horrifying certainty what Jim had done. He had taken Spock's place, died instead in order to save his crew.

Spock missed Jim. He missed his burning blue eyes, the confidence set in his shoulders. The way he understood the strength and weaknesses of those serving under him (even those of Spock himself, though Spock would always deny this). The easy smile, the unspoken jokes that he and Spock shared.

"Jim, it has now been nearly two months since you..." Spock faltered. "Since you died. I implore that you wake up soon. The Enterprise is almost half repaired, but there are several major issues which have yet to be rectified. An upgraded warp core will be fitted, and I believe Mr Scott would like your opinion on...because he knows that you are gifted in the...in the engineering field..."

Spock trailed off. Jim's eyes stayed closed. Sometimes, Spock could not help feeling that every time he came here and saw Jim lying on that bed that it was just like watching him die all over again.

X

A hand on his shoulder jerked Spock from sleep. He had not meant to succumb to his tiredness, and his muscles ached from having fallen asleep in the small chair. Nyota smiled at him gently.

"Hey, Spock." she kissed his cheek, "How's he doing?"

"His neural patterns are increasing but Doctor McCoy has attributed this to dreaming and doubts that it is a sign of Jim waking up."

Nyota rubbed her head with her hand.

"There's..." she hesitated, "There are rumours that the Admiralty board are going to order McCoy to pull the plug."

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, Spock jerked to his feet.

"They will not." his voice was so fierce that he felt taken aback, and attempted to calm himself, "Jim is improving. They cannot simply..."

"I'm only telling you what I heard. You have to admit, he looks bad, Spock."

Spock let his eyes take in Jim like he had done hundreds of times before. Taking in the hissing jerk as the respirator breathed for his Captain, the way his cheeks had become sunken and pale. The frail beat of his weak, human heart.

"We will not let them." Spock said quietly, resolute. He knew that the crew of the Enterprise would bring hell to whoever attempted to take their Captain away from them. He saw his determination mirrored in Nyota's dark eyes, in the subtle curve of their mouth.

"We need to stall them with every regulation we can think of," she nodded, "Get as many people to testify against it as we can. The crew makes up nearly 1000 people, we can hold out for a while."

"We must consider the possibility of being offered the choice of Doctor McCoy losing his license for attempting to-"

"That's not a choice, it's blackmail. And really - which do you think matters more to him? His job or his best friend?"

Spock realised that really, it was no choice at all.