Hollow

Disclaimer: Zach Quinto is gonna show up at my door and ask me to marry him. Hey, a girl can dream!

A/N: Okay, I know I should be working on Living and Dying, but this popped into my head, and damn thing, it wouldn't leave me alone. There are only three chapters, much shorter than LaD chaps, so, I've got it all typed up and I'll be able to focus now. I hope. Cuz more plot bunnies have appeared. But I think I can work on both at the same time. *fashions noose* So, warnings.

This IS a tragedy. The founding idea: What would Jim be without Spock? And there is SLASH. Nothing explicit, mild—and I mean MILD—language. Established Sulu/Chekov. Why? Because I think they're meant to be. And because they're SO. DAMN. CUTE. DEAL WITH IT.

And without further ado…


Chapter One: Wound

"See you soon, Scotty," Jim said, flashing his trademark grin as he, Spock, and Bones climbed up on the transporter pad. "Energize!"

"Aye, Cap'n," the Scotsman replied. He couldn't help but grin back. The young captain's excitement was infectious.

The transporter hummed to life, and then they were in a hot, humid jungle. The two humans stumbled as they hit the planet, and Spock automatically caught Jim's elbow to steady him, and Jim flashed the Vulcan a grateful smile as the warm hand retracted to its customary place behind its owner's back.

McCoy, on the other hand, staggered to the right, slammed into a tree, and fell on his backside.

Jim tried to stifle his laughter as he extended a hand to the doctor. He couldn't resist saying, "I guess you like the planet than, Bones?"

Bones slapped his friend's hand away, scowling murderously and dragging himself to his feet. "Damn that infernal contraption…" he muttered darkly. "Molecules flying all over the goddamn galaxy…damn unnatural…"

Jim laughed. Spock's eyebrow quirked, and Jim laughed harder, clutching at his sides.

When he was under control, he put his hands on his hips and looked around. The leaves on the trees were bright orange, and all the plants were in vibrant colors. Even the moss crawling up the trunks was a brilliant, cheerful yellow. It was all very pretty, if a bit dizzying.

Spock was already taking samples, and McCoy was peering suspiciously around the little clearing.

The Vulcan was bent over a bright purple bush, but Jim faced him anyway. "Spock, you said the natives live about three-fourths of a mile to the south, right?"

Spock straightened and faced his captain, a long purple leaf in his hand. "Actually, Captain, I believe a more accurate approximation would be—Jim!" Spock's eyes widened and he lunged forward, too late.

A bright red blur flew at the captain from behind and blue eyes widened marginally. He fell forward, collapsing against Spock's chest as the first officer caught his captain in his arms.

Carefully, Spock lowered Jim to the ground. McCoy was suddenly there, examining the crimson arrow that was imbedded in Jim's calf, scanning his friend with a tricorder and cursing profusely. Jim blinked slowly, his brain a little fuzzy. He looked up into Spock's worried eyes.

"Oh, hell!" McCoy exclaimed. "Spock, we have to get back to the ship, now! That arrow's poisoned!"

"Poisoned?" Spock repeated, turning his eyes back to Jim's. Jim could see the infinitesimal clench of Spock's jaw, the way his eyes blazed. He thought the natives should be glad that they had poisoned the arrow, because otherwise, they would have had one very PO'd half-Vulcan to contend with. And there really was no winning against an angry Spock.

"Spock," Jim panted. The blond was clammy and sweaty. His eyes cleared and focused on something behind the Vulcan.

"Duck!" he gasped and Spock obeyed without thought, flattening protectively over Jim, fingers burying in blond hair, cradling the captain's head against his chest. More red arrows flew over them. McCoy, who had also thrown himself to the ground at Jim's command, was—as per usual—swearing creatively.

Copper skinned men and women, scantily clad in white cloth, emerged from the trees, holding bows and arrows and baring their teeth. Spock rose fluidly to his feet and the natives rushed him, lifting their bows and shrieking in a strange tongue.

It isn't unusual, Jim reflected. An away mission going wrong—it wasn't unusual. In fact, now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember a single away mission going smoothly. He wondered about that distantly, eyes fixed on Spock, slipping between the natives, delivering nerve pinches faster than the eye could see. Jim decided it was just the universe's love of screwing with him and went back to focusing on Spock.

Spock…his First Officer. His friend. His love. His heart ached whenever he thought about how much he felt for Spock. How much he could never tell him.

Spock had dropped all of the natives and was now striding back to them, face blank.

"Spock, we hafta get back to the Enterprise!" McCoy snapped again.

Spock flipped open his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise."

"Enterprise here," a Scottish accent replied. "Are ye done a'ready, Mr. Spock?"

"Three for beam up. Have medical team standing by," Spock ordered tersely. "The captain has been injured."

"Aye-aye, Mr. Spock," Scotty said, suddenly brisk. "It may take a minute to get a lock on your signal, so dunnae move a muscle."

"Thank you, Mr. Scott." Spock hooked the communicator to his belt again, eyes fixed on the pale face of the blond. "Dr. McCoy. I doubt that these people are alone. I feel it would be prudent for me to examine the area surrounding our location for further threat."

Jim wheezed out a laugh and winced. He could tell his First noticed by the miniscule tightening around his eyes.

"Go ahead, Spock, patrol away," McCoy growled, focused on dressing the deep puncture wound. "Just don't let anyone interrupt me dammit, or he won't make it."

"Spock…" Jim breathed again. His words were slurring but his eyes were clear. "Careful…"

Their eyes met, and Spock nodded slightly. "Of course, Captain."

Jim's eyes stayed on Spock as he prowled around the clearing. He ignored Bones, who was mumbling under his breath, what sounded like medical jargon mixed with curses.

Spock turned, and his eyes locked with Jim's for a moment, before turning upward. They widened and filled with something akin to panic. With a furious roar, he launched forward, leaping over Jim.

Jim watched helplessly as his Vulcan charged to protect him. Spock's body jerked and he turned to face Jim. A green stain was already spreading across his shirt, from the point where the arrow was buried in his side. Right where, Jim knew, the Vulcan heart was.

All he saw in that moment were Spock's chocolate eyes, fixed on his own, and then they rolled up and Spock crumpled in a heap.

"No," Jim whispered. He didn't hear McCoy screaming, "Energize, dammit!" He didn't hear the war cries, or see the natives dropping from the trees. All he knew was that Spock was lying beside him, utterly still, and his eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving, wasn't breathing…

And everything was crashing down around him, and he didn't feel the tingle of the transporter. All that mattered was Spock, that Spock open his eyes, breathe, anything to prove he was alive….

He saw only Spock's dark, compassionate eyes against the backs of his eyelids as darkness swirled up and swallowed him.


A/N: So I have the other chapters typed, but I'm thinking of waiting a few days before posting the next one. Just to gauge reader response. So, review! (oh, so that's what this is about?) yes, I am a review addict. But review anyway! Pleeeeaaase? Hugs to anyone who does!