A/N: Please note that I will update every few days, please be patient!

WARNING: This fic contains graphic violence.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own the Star Trek franchise or its characters.

Chapter 1

Images, blurred with shapes and shadows looming overhead. A pain sharp and burning near his left eye, entering his head making his skull feel as though it was splitting in two. A muffled scream emitting from the gag they had placed in his mouth. The shadows in his vision began eating away the rest of his vision. Sounds were muffled and echoed around him.

A voice, "We're losing him."

Another voice timid and pleading, "Jim, stay with me here!"

A third voice spoke in a deep threatening voice, "If he dies, I will make sure you are severely punished."

Another sharp pain, only this time it shot from his hand. Burning its way up his arm, making him cry out again, but it wasn't enough to keep him conscience. He let the darkness consume him.

Before he faded away, the last thing he heard was an inaudible panicked voice inside his head, "Jim!"

Kirk awoke with a start, a bright light shining in his face that caused him to squint and blink through the temporary blindness. He slowly became aware that he was lying in a bed, the giant light hanging low above him. His mouth was extremely dry and he coughed as he tried to swallow. Knowing he was weak, he didn't attempt to sit up but instead shifted his head to survey his surroundings and winced at the sharp pain that sparked for a moment inside his skull.

Gradually his eyes adjusted and the room flooded to his vision. It was a quaint barren room with a solid door and no windows. It appeared to be made of some kind of metal that was different than any in the Enterprise and he deduced that that was not where he could possibly be.

What happened? He thought, trying to recall the events of the day. He remembered receiving a distress call from an unidentified planet in the quadrant. A planet that was not in any of Starfleet's records nor was it picked up on any of the ship's scanners until the call was patched through. It pertained to the spread of a deadly virus and those who were unaffected requested to be rescued by any vessel before they were struck down as well.

Feeling a little uneasy but unable to deny the call, he ordered the Enterprise into standard orbit and had Scotty beam Spock, McCoy, and himself down to the planet's surface to inspect and assist. Although he couldn't remember what happened after that, he strained to recall anything.

Abruptly a ringing erupted in his left ear so loud it caused the pounding in his head to increase. He tried to lift his hands to his head but found them strapped down. Attempting to relieve the pain, he swished his head from side to side, hoping somehow the pressure would decrease. The pounding became sharp, ripping down his skull. He howled in pain, begging and pleading to nobody for it to stop. He could feel a warm liquid dripping from the left earlobe and settling against his neck.

The door jerked open and somebody was pushed so violently inside they stumbled against the bed, clutching the side of it to steady himself. Kirk couldn't concentrate on the stranger beside him. The pain began shooting down his neck, into his arms, his chest. His strained screams grew louder.

"Fix him now!" A booming voice ordered.

"I'll do what I can! I'll be lucky to do anything productive with all these medieval devices you've provided. I'm a doctor not a butcher!" A sarcastic voice snapped back. He lightly touched Kirk's arm and leaned down to his face. "Jim? Can you hear me? Jim!"

Kirk couldn't answer; the sharp pain in his skull was suddenly on fire, burning him within. His vision became a light show, flashing in his failing vision. He screamed again, hands balling into fists.

Another sharp sting in his hand made his body jerk. The familiarity of the fire creeping up his arm forced tears from the corners of his eyes. His body began to convulse from the pain, head banging against the bed. Two shaky hands grabbed onto either side of his face, pinning it down as the rest of his body writhed.

"Jim, please!" McCoy whispered by his ear, begging as another scream ripped from Kirk. "Please Jim, you have to fight it! Don't give in, dammit!"

The pain began to subside, and his body began to relax. The medicine McCoy had put into his body calmed the convulsions and he felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. He could feel the heat emanating from his face and McCoy's cold hands, his breathing was labored and each breath burned his throat. He hoarsely whispered, "Bones." Then felt the comfortable ease of slipping back into unconsciousness.

The next time he came to, the room was deserted. Kirk felt extremely weak but a sense of urgency overcame him. He felt the need to sit and find out where they were holding McCoy and Spock. Was Spock dead? No. He didn't know how, but he felt that Spock was still here somewhere. But was he injured? He knew McCoy was alive which brought a sense of relief to him and knowing he was well enough to snap back at what he only assumed was their captors assured him even more.

Kirk once again attempted to move his hand and this time to his surprise, there was no restraint to stop it. His arm felt like lead as he raised it up and brought his hand to his face. Gingerly touching his head, he winced as the small spark of pain shot through it again. The hand pulsed and he glanced at it, a needle was embedded in his skin and was taped down to keep it in place. He didn't know much about medical procedures but he recognized from old Earth's hospital pictures that this appeared to be used for medicine injections and for the IV to attach to.

These procedures weren't use for centuries since the hypos were invented, less intrusive. Why was McCoy using this when he had his Medkit on him? Did the captors understand the new age medicine he carried or did they purposely want McCoy to use their own medical equipment? Either way the situation did not bode well.

Then a thought occurred to him. The Enterprise, was the crew all right? Was it still in orbit? Were they still on the same planet they beamed down to? All these questions frustrated Kirk. He needed to know, it was his responsibility to know the condition of his crewmen and his starship, to keep them safe. To allow this to happen and with no knowledge of how it happened unsettled him.

Kirk scooted both his arms to a position where he could try to push himself up. His arms shook as he slowly raised his torso. He could feel something slide backward in his skull and it sent him reeling onto his side, retching over the bedside onto the floor below. A heat flared over his body as he moaned in agony, laying his head back down onto the bed but staying on his side. It was futile to move in his condition. His effort as Spock would put it was illogical since it appeared that if he were able to move around, there seemed to be no escape.

Sweat dripped down his face as he felt his temperature rise. He was seriously hurt or sick or even both. Was it the virus? Or was that a ruse to lure the Enterprise to this planet? Why couldn't he remember the time lapse between beaming down and now?

The door jerked open and once again his longtime friend was flung into the room. A giant muscular humanoid stood in the doorway, a phaser he had stolen from one of them no doubt was latched in his giant hand, pointed at the doctor. The humanoid had a dark skin, bald head and what appeared to be black tribal tattoos down his entire left side of his body. Pale purple eyes glared at McCoy who was picking himself up off the floor.

"I would appreciate it if you didn't feel the need to push me every time you bring me here. I might break something and be unable to perform my job, then where would you be?" McCoy snapped at him as he brushed himself off. He looked as though he had been put through hell. His skin was ashen, and black circles were dark under his eyes. Bruises were scattered throughout his arms and face, and a cut was steadily bleeding from his lower lip.

"Bones." Kirk whispered, staring up at him weakly. A tired but saddened look crossed the doctor's face.

"Jim, try not to waste your energy." He spoke soothingly as he pressed his fingertips to the artery in Kirk's neck, taking his pulse the old fashioned way, then placed his palm against his forehead to check for a temperature.

Kirk shakily raised his hand up and grabbed ahold of his wrist.

"Spock?"

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything and they won't let me see him. They only told me that I was to attend to you. If I'm not here, I'm trapped in my own room and it's just as fancy as yours." He muttered and Kirk slowly released his grip.

McCoy bent down and grabbed a syringe full of a strange liquid and began injecting it into kirk's needle in his hand.

"Bones." Kirk whispered, "Are you all right?" He struggled to speak.

"Don't worry about me, Jim." He whispered, "You need to focus on you. They apparently want you alive for a reason. They've been making sure to pound that into me." Something crossed his face as if he didn't want to finish the sentence with a literal comment. He didn't want to worry Kirk when he was in such a critical state.

"What's wrong with me?" Each word was strained as Kirk spoke. His mouth and throat were so dry, and his lips were cracked so badly that he felt it split open as he finished his question. His body roared with thirst and hunger.

"You're sick. I'm not sure with what or how. All I can remember was waking up in this strange place and they brought me into an old operating room where you were unconscious. They want you alive but it seems they want you to stay weak. They require both of us to be weakened, possibly to keep us from escaping. They won't give us water or food. They just want me to keep giving you shots of God knows what to keep your bodily functions from failing." He grabbed onto Kirk's shoulder, squeezing it as if trying to tell him there was more information but he couldn't tell him with a guard over his shoulder.

"Are you finished with your examination?" The voice of the guard echoed throughout the room.

McCoy angrily whirled around at him, "He has a high fever and from the readings of his pulse he is under a great amount of stress! I'm sure his blood pressure is through the roof! His organs can't handle it for a long period of time. If he stays like this he could die!"

"If he dies, you will be punished." The guard said flatly.

"I need my kit to help him, dammit! I can't work with this alien substance I keep getting!"

"Not our problem. Fix him or perish."

McCoy was about to retort but Kirk stopped him by touching his hand. His breathing was becoming labored again, his vision was beginning to blur. A look of pure helplessness crossed over McCoy's face. The guard entered the room and grasped McCoy's arm and yanked him away from Kirk. He was too weak to fight him and allowed the burly man to shove him out of the room, the door slamming shut behind them.