Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: The Original Series, or any of its characters, locations, ect…
Author's Note: Here's the second chapter for those of you who have my story on Story Alert. I would love it if I could get some feedback…it's hard to write when no one's there to help, you know! Anyways, I hope you enjoy the second chapter.
How long I sat there, I don't know. A nurse came to take Spock away. Bones cleaned the bio-bed. One by one, the patients whose injuries weren't serious left Sick Bay to return to their duties. Time seemed to pass with little meaning to me. Even though the lights in Sick Bay were blinding, everything seemed to be dim, dark. There was very little noise now; just the constant swish of the doors as people left Sick Bay, the slight beeping of tricorders and monitors, the low mumbles of doctors and nurses as they made diagnosis and treated them. In the back of my head, a voice was screaming at me. "Jim, snap out of it and get to the Bridge. People need you. They don't have a second in command anymore." I ignored the voice, knowing that it couldn't possibly be real. It was Spock's voice.
Finally, the lights in Sick Bay dimmed, and everything became very, very quiet. I looked up to find Dr. McCoy staring at me, his blue eyes filled with sorrow, sympathy, and…regret?
"Jim, you've been sitting there for nearly five hours. I don't think Sick Bay is the best place for you to be right now. Why don't you go to your quarters to get some rest. It's been a long, hard day."
I shook my head, and stood up, stiff from sitting for so long. "No, no. I'm needed on the Bridge. Sulu was left in command; he can only hold out for so long." I argued, forcing myself to take responsibility.
Of course, McCoy disagreed with me, as always. "Jim, you need the rest. You've just lost your best friend, your Commander. Is that not clicking in that brain of yours?" He was getting angry now. "God, Jim, he was your friend. Show a little respect, will you?"
That was it. How dare he think that I wasn't aware of Spock's death? If anyone was aware, it was me. I didn't have time to just curl up in a ball and die like I wanted to. I didn't have the time to go sleep for 12 hours like I needed to. No, I had a ship to run, a crew to command. I had to keep moving.
"That's enough, Doctor." I said as calmly as I could. "Everyone grieves in their own way."
He nodded his head, as if understanding my predicament. I walked out of Sick Bay, suddenly hating the atmosphere that I had created in there. I wandered the halls, meaning to go to the Bridge. I turned around a corner, and froze.
I was at Spock's quarters.
That was the last place I wanted to be. I didn't need reminders that my friend had died; I remembered that clearly enough. I remembered him, his face, his personality, his logic. It seemed like it had been years instead of hours ago that Spock died.
Would time go this slowly for the rest of my life? Would I have to live, feeling like hours went by when it was only minutes?
I rang the bell mindlessly. Of course, no one was going to answer. I entered, attempting to leave my unanswered questions in the hall. Spock's quarters were neat and tidy as usual, smelling lightly of incense. To most humans, Vulcans had horrible taste in interior designing; but not to me. I personally was fond of the warm, comfortable tones that decorated Spock's personal space. His meditation lamp was sitting on the table. A book was on the stand beside his bed. It was warm and cozy- just how my house would be if I had one.
I snapped out of whatever trance I was in; I was suddenly very aware that I needed to be on the Bridge. I darted out of Spock's quarters, picked up my unanswered questions in the hall, and ran for the Bridge.
I stepped out of the turbo lift, and onto the Bridge. Silence. Everyone turned to look at me. I must have looked horrible; my face felt stiff after it had been set in the same position for so long, and my hair was tousled. I wondered if everyone had heard the news about Spock. From the look of things, they had, but it looked like they had only known for just a short while. Hadn't we all?
Uhura's hand flew to her mouth, attempting to muffle her sobs. Chekov turned, and started to pay a little too much attention to the view screen. Sulu's back straightened, his whole body becoming very tense. Scotty walked over to put his arm around Uhura. I realized that everyone had their own way of mourning; Chekov focused on one thing intently, Uhura cried, Scotty grieved by helping others, and Sulu became like some sort of robot, some android.
How did I grieve? Did I have my own special way to grieve? I didn't really know. But I couldn't worry about that now; I had a crew who needed me, a crew who needed me more than I needed myself at the moment.
"Spock was a fine Vulcan; a fine man. He wouldn't have wanted us to grieve for him. He said to just remember, just remember him." I said calmly, while making my way to my chair.
"Aye," Scotty said in a shaky voice. "He'll be hard to forget."
