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Star Trek: Subtext- Chapter Two

Jim Kirk grimaced as he felt the transporter beam begin to take him apart. He fully understood why Bones hated the process, and he had to admit that he'd nearly panicked the first time he'd gone through it, but it was just a necessary part of life when you lived aboard a starship. Besides, as long as you kept in mind that you were going to be put together again on the other side, it wasn't so bad.

He was quickly reassembled in the transporter room of the U.S.S. Enterprise, leaving his good friend the tiger to wonder where its meal had gone.

Almost immediately upon re-materialization, he fell to his knees. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was just to fatigued to stay on his feet. All the running and the blood loss on that viciously dry planet had taken a lot out of him. The transporter operators started towards him with the intention of helping him to his feet but before they could take more than a couple steps, the door slid open with the smooth mechanical sound of panels moving on their tracks.

Jim raised his tired eyes to see his First Officer standing in the doorway with an odd look on his face; It took him a moment to realize that the expression itself wasn't strange at all, it was just the face that it was on. Spock, just for that short moment, looked concerned. Wordlessly, the Vulcan walked to him and grabbed his arm to pull him to his feet, momentarily unconcerned by his race's general hesitancy toward physical contact.

"Spock, what're you...?" Jim began.

"I am taking you to sickbay so Dr. McCoy can tend to your injuries."

He was rather surprised by how carefully and gently Spock helped him to the turbolift; though Spock was clearly not a person who took naturally to violence, Jim had seen him completely incapacitate a man just by pinching a nerve, and he had seen him pick a person up and throw them across a room. Still, Spock exemplified the pacifist nature of his race.

They stood in silence as the turbolift went to the sickbay level. Jim could feel Spock's eyes on him the entire time, and he wondered what was going on in that overly-logical head.

When the lift arrived at their floor, Spock led him into the dispensary without a word and called for Dr. McCoy. He made Jim sit on the examination table and went about pulling the tattered cloth of his uniform shirt away from the wound and being rather uncharacteristically fussy over it.

"How you manage to consistently injure yourself in such brutal ways is beyond my ability to imagine. How, exactly, did you accomplish this?"

"I, uh, slipped."

When Leonard McCoy entered the room, he stood just inside the doorway, giving Spock a pointedly disapproving look. He couldn't very well do anything with the Vulcan picking over the captain like some sort of pointy-eared mother hen. He grumbled under his breath and tapped his foot impatiently. Losing what little patience he had, he cleared his throat and said, "If you would get out of the way, I might be able to do something for him, you know."

Spock raised his head at the sound of McCoy's voice and promptly stepped out of the way, his face betraying no reaction to the doctor's admonishment. "Yes, of course." He stayed nearby and watched closely as Bones cleaned and disinfected the wound, then used a derma-regenerator to seal it shut.

"Now, Jim," he began, giving the starship captain a stern, disapproving look, "that's only healed on the surface. You need to rest until it heals the rest of the way. You hear me?"

"It's fine, Bones. As long as I'm not bleeding all over the place, it's nothing to worry about." Jim shrugged his friend off and swung his feet over the side of the table so that he could get down. The second his feet touched the floor and stress was put on the injured muscles in his side, he fell to his knees in pain. "Shit!" he cried, a hand reflexively moving to clutch at the afflicted area.

Silently, Spock knelt beside his captain and easily lifted the man from the floor, placing him back atop the table with a stern look, as if to say 'stay there this time.'

Jim grimaced, pain still shooting through all the muscles in that side of his body. He took a few steadying breaths and tried to detach himself, mentally, from the pain. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll rest," he said. "But can I at least be privileged enough to rest in my own quarters? I hate this place."

"Gee, thanks, Jim," Bones replied sarcastically. "I guess I can let you go to your quarters, since my sickbay isn't good enough for you. But take one of these before you go." He went to the wall cabinet and pulled out a small bottle of red pills, and shook on into his hand before handing it to his injured friend.

Jim gave the pill a skeptical look, wondering what it was, exactly, before tossing it into his mouth and swallowing it without water. He sighed and looked up at his First Officer. "Hey, Spock," he began, "do you think you could help me to my quarters? I... don't think I can get there on my own." He grimaced, hating the necessity of admitting his weakness, hating that he was weak to begin with.

"Of course, Captain," Spock said simply. He bent slightly and easily lifted Jim from the table, one arm on his back and the other cradled in the bend of the captain's knees. Jim thought for a moment about protesting, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good; Spock would just make a comment like 'It is faster this way, and therefore the most logical solution.'

It didn't take long in the turbolift to get to Jim's floor and they didn't run into anyone on the way, either; Jim was incredibly thankful for that much. Having to be carried to his quarters wouldn't do much for his reputation. The door slid open and then shut behind them. Spock lay the captain on his bed as carefully as he was able and moved to the edge of the room to stand rigidly, keeping his eyes trained on his commanding officer.

"Spock? Why don't you sit down and relax. I'm not going anywhere, and you're making me anxious, hovering like that."

"Your anxiety is illogical, sir. I am merely making certain that you are alright." Spock replied, staying where he was, his hands clasped behind his back.

The pill Bones had given him began to kick in; he could feel the pain reliever working its way through his bloodstream and into the sore and damaged muscles. It made him feel sleepy and irritable, and he rolled over onto his injured side to face away from the Vulcan. "Fine, stay there if you want. Frankly, I don't give a damn."

Immediately, Spock stepped forward and placed a hand carefully on Jim's shoulder, pulling ham back to lay on his back again. "You should not lay on your injured side, Captain. You could injure it further in your sleep."

"What do you care?" he snapped, the medicine making him disagreeable, like a sick child. Despite his protest, he stayed where he was put because he knew that Spock was right.

"...I do not wish for you to injure yourself further, Captain."

"Hmph!" he huffed, turning his face to stare at the wall. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open. "It's almost like you care or something..." he mumbled before drifting off into a deep, dreamless sleep.