Authors Note: Someone needs to take my computer away from me...please review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek

"Spock, dammit, Spock, no," Jim moaned desperately, his hands pressed against Spock's chest. His hands and arms were covered in the thick green liquid that was Spock's life force. Jim watched almost helplessly as his first officer's blood pooled around him, blinking hot tears out of his eyes.

Jim felt Spock's fingers wrap loosely around his hand, almost prying it away from his chest. Jim looked down and met Spock's gaze, staring into his eyes, surprised at the blatant emotion he saw in them. "Jim," Spock whispered, "Do not worry. He missed my heart."

"But there's so much blood," Jim croaked.

"I am alive right now. That is enough for Dr. McCoy."

Spock squeezed his hand and relaxed onto the ground. Jim, his free hand still pressed against Spock's chest, watched as his friend and colleague's eyes fluttered closed. Jim jerked his head up and glared around the hallway. He was alone, save for the stunned man lying a few feet away from him and Spock. Jim let go of Spock's hand and walked over to the man. He stared down at the vile excuse for a human, hatred and anger obvious on his face.

He pushed the man's legs apart with his foot and kicked him hard between them. Again and again, Jim kicked him, in the ribs, the chest, the head, wherever he could reach, hot tears pouring out of his eyes and pooling under his chin.

"Bones! Where the hell are you?!" Jim screamed into the empty hallway. He knew it was useless. Bones couldn't hear him. Nobody could. They were stuck on the fourth floor of the Starbase and they were the only people there.

Spock and Jim had been walking towards the mess hall when lights started flashing and sirens started wailing. Immediately, people started running towards the turbolifts and Spock and Jim were left standing there while people moved around them, like rocks in a river. They didn't know what to do; they had only been at Starbase Alpha for a day. They didn't know the protocol or what the sirens and lights meant. And by the time they had gotten over the suddenness of it all, everybody was gone.

Quickly, they had headed to the turbolifts and found them either not working or backed up with too many people calling for a lift at once. So they waited. There didn't seem to be any immediate danger, and besides, they didn't even know the way around the base yet; the only exit they knew about was the turbolifts.

But the turbolifts never came. Spock waited calmly, assuring his captain that all was well and that they were fine, while Jim paced anxiously and pounded on the turbolift doors.

And then he came.

Spock and Jim hadn't noticed him at first. But Spock's superior hearing alerted him to the man and he was able to shove Jim out of the way before the man's phaser could blast Jim into oblivion. But Spock hadn't been so lucky. The shot that had been meant to hit Jim, hit Spock's chest instead, missing his heart, but still wounding him badly.

And now Spock was lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, barely breathing, there was no help coming, and Jim could do nothing to save the best first officer in all of Star Fleet.

Having taken out all of his frustration of the stunned murdering bastard, Jim fell to his knees next to his best friend, laying his hand on Spock's heart. It still beat, but weakly and slowly. Jim wiped tears out of his eyes, watching the rise and fall of Spock's chest and the gushing of blood out of the deadly hole in the middle of his chest.

Spock coughed a little, bringing Jim's attention to his face. Spock blinked several times before focusing on Jim, and even then his eyelids drooped, threatening to fall closed. Spock's lips moved, trying to say something, but Spock was too weak to get it out.

Jim leaned in close enough to feel Spock's warm breath against his face and grasped his long-fingered hand. He didn't know exactly what Spock was saying; he was speaking in Vulcan, a language Jim had yet to learn. But Jim didn't move or say anything. Spock kept whispering and Jim just listened to the sound of his voice, not minding that he didn't understand the words.

But eventually, the words slowed and became quieter until Jim couldn't hear anything at all. He could still feel Spock's breath against his cheek and lips, still see his slightly green lips moving. Jim stared into Spock's deep brown eyes while he tried to tell him whatever it was that Spock felt needed to be said.

They stayed like that for what seemed like years to Jim and was probably only moments. Spock's strength gave out and instead of trying to speak, he focused on keeping his breathing even and keeping his eyes open.

Suddenly, Spock started coughing violently, green blood splattering his shirt and flecking his lips. Jim saw Spock's eyes widen in surprise and fear and he squeezed Spock's hand tighter, hoping to reassure the man that everything was going to be okay even though Jim knew it wouldn't be.

Spock grabbed Jim's shoulder with surprising strength and put his mouth to Jim's ear. He gasped something in Vulcan, most of which Jim couldn't understand. A couple words seemed familiar, probably something Jim had heard back at the Academy, but he wasn't really worried about translating at the moment. All that mattered to him was the injured man in front of him.

Spock's arm fell back to his side and he seemed to groan with pain, even though he made no sound. He kept his eyes open, chocolate brown meeting electric blue. Jim didn't move his gaze away, no matter how much it hurt him to see the pain in Spock's eyes or hear the rattling of his breath. It almost seemed to Jim that he was feeling some of Spock's pain. He could feel burning in his heart and it was so hard to breathe.

Jim didn't look away when he had to grasp Spock's hand tightly to keep the other man's limp fingers from slipping through his own. He didn't look away when the light in Spock's eyes dulled. He didn't look away when those chocolate brown eyes closed for the last time. He just stared at the man's face.

Jim had always believed that in death, people were peaceful. He knew that was wrong now. Spock's exotic features had been captured in a grimace of pain, never to be put at rest. They would never relax into the slight smirk he always made when Jim did something that secretly amused him. That eyebrow would never quirk so high it almost touched his hairline when Jim did something Spock didn't quite understand. Those features would never change again.

Jim broke. Sobs ripped through him and he bent down until his head rested against Spock's bloody chest. One hand still clutched Spock's and the other fisted around the material of Spock's shirt. His first officer, his best friend, was gone. Dead.

Jim stayed there, hunched over his friend, memories of shared experiences swirling through his head; the first time they met, Spock beaming down to his dying planet looking so determined, working together on Nero's ship, Spock protecting him on Kronos, the proud look Spock wore when they were home at the award ceremony, all the time shared playing chess, all the times Jim teased Spock or told jokes, trying to make the Vulcan laugh.

Jim realized then what Spock had gasped in his ear. He knew what it meant now.

T'hy'la.