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~Chapter II~

"Stopping my heart," Jim realized suddenly, looking between McCoy and Spock with a foreboding lurch in his stomach. "You'd have to stop my heart."

..

Spock's head turned sharply to regard him, eyes narrowing slightly at the revelation. There was a heavy beat of silence, practically audible in its solemnity. McCoy's mouth snapped shut with a distinct click, and he looked at Jim warily. "Now, let's not jump to conclusions."

"No, that's it." Jim was starting to feel a stir of optimism. Finally, they had something to work with. All they needed now was to know how to do it. He paced a couple of steps back and forth, thoughts racing. "We can't just take it out without risking an immediate detonation; the terrorists are too clever for that. So we've got to disable it, first, right? Remove it from its power source, in this case, my heartbeat. If the bomb can be disabled by basically turning off my heart, then we just need to-" he stopped midstep, turning to McCoy and considering him for a moment. "I mean, you could do it right? You've got some sort of drug or something in your medkit that you could use?"

"Whether I do or not is beside the point, Jim," McCoy said impatiently. "The point is that-"

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

"You can't just go around turning off your heart!" McCoy exploded. "There's rules about this kind of thing, you know! This isn't like holding your breath or whatever fool thing you're imagining this to be. This is- this is suicide!"

"Temporarily." Jim corrected.

"What?" McCoy blinked, caught off guard.

"It'd only be temporary, Bones. After all, you do plan to bring me back, right?" Jim asked lightly, a slight, unbidden smirk touching the corners of his mouth.

"By all means, if you think it's that simple," McCoy said keenly, his eyebrows creasing. "Damn it, Jim, there's a lot of things to consider here."

Jim huffed in exasperation. "Enlighten me."

"Well, as if your heart hasn't been shocked enough already today, we'd need to do it again to bring you back, Jim." McCoy frowned. "Only this time, we'll be restarting your heart from zero, not just nudging at the speedometer. To do that, we'll need a cardiostimulator, and unfortunately, they're all aboard the resource shuttle or in the medbay. Now," he patted the medkit at his waist, "I've got epinephrine on hand, and there's a chance it'll work, but, well, considering your history with hypos before…there's just no way of knowing all the risks."

"The doctor is correct in his assumptions, Captain," Spock said quietly. McCoy looked almost startled at the interruption, as if he had forgotten Spock was even there. Either that, or he was simply surprised at the Vulcan's unexpected support. "The potential harm to your well-being cannot be ignored."

"I'm not ignoring them, I'm…. I just can't let them get in my way," Jim argued, frustratingly aware of the feebleness of his position. "Look, we all know this thing is going to go off one way or another once the failsafe activates so, if getting it out means-"

"And what if we can't get you back?" McCoy demanded. "What then?"

"If it means it'll at least save your lives, it's worth the risk."

"And what about you, Jim? Doesn't your own life mean anything to you?"

Jim didn't answer, his gaze set firmly on the floor. McCoy watched him with growing alarm, then glanced at Spock, sharing a moment of mutual concern.

"So what are you saying, Bones?" Jim spoke up suddenly, giving a short laugh that was void of any mirth. "That we've got no other options? If you won't take the risks, then I want you and Spock to get as far from me as you can, because I'm not bringing you down with me."

Both McCoy and Spock opened their mouths at the same time, but McCoy beat him to it. "Forget about it, Jim, that's not going to happen."

Jim opened his mouth to object, but McCoy put up his hand, cutting him off. "And…there is another option."

"What?" Jim demanded, his eyes brightening despite his confusion. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"It's a...traditional method, you might say," McCoy said reluctantly.

Jim stared at him for a perplexed moment before realization dawned. He nodded his head emphatically, trying to get Spock's attention, then pointed at McCoy and mouthed helpfully to the Vulcan, "He means CPR." He accompanied the message with vague pushing motions away from his chest, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Spock mirrored the expression, intrigued by the exaggerated pantomime, and McCoy rolled his eyes in annoyance at the both of them.

"So, I take it, then, that you two know the basics of cardiopulmonary resuscitation, right? Compressions, Breathing, Airway, all that?"

Spock tilted his head slightly towards the doctor, a suspicious twitch at the corner of the mouth as he responded, "It is a prerequisite certification in basic interspecies medical training courses offered at the Academy."

"Smartass," McCoy muttered sourly. "Do you know it or not?"

"I am well-versed in the technique," Spock responded succinctly. They both turned to eye Jim.

"What? I know CPR!" Jim protested, looking wounded. "Really, Bones, I'm offended that you would think-"

"Wouldn't be the first time you've gotten out of something medically required." McCoy pointed out, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"Oh, please, that's different," Jim said dismissively. "Do you know how scary you are with those hypos?"

McCoy cleared his throat meaningfully, "Do you have any idea how many physicals you've-"

"Bones, trust me, I took the class."

This only gave McCoy slight pause before he bellowed right on. "Then you both know it won't be easy, especially considering the fact that we don't even know how long we'll have to keep it up before the Enterprise reaches us!"

"Won't be a problem." Jim said confidently.

McCoy hesitated, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

Jim gestured meaningfully at his first officer. "Well, we've got Spock, don't we? And with Vulcans being three times stronger than humans-"

"You would know," McCoy muttered.

"Shut up," Jim said somewhat irritably, but there was a slight fondness there as well. He turned to Spock. "So does that include endurance as well?"

"Indeed, Captain," Spock responded warily.

Jim looked back at McCoy with enthusiasm. "See, he could keep up with the compressions for as long as we need it. And when you think about it, it won't be much different from being on life support, manually speaking."

McCoy looked thoroughly unconvinced, scowling first at Spock and then at Jim. "Sure he could keep it up, but even if I can fix you up when we get back on the ship- considering how long this could go on, that's still going to be one hell of a beating on you, Jim."

Jim became suddenly conscious of the fact that Spock was staring intently at him from where he stood quietly behind McCoy, and looked away uneasily. The small movement inexplicably sent the world spinning for a brief, disorienting moment, and he rubbed his eyes uncertainly. "Yeah, I've got a good idea," he said vaguely.

McCoy frowned, concerned. "You okay there?"

Jim wavered on his feet slightly before dropping his hand from his face, blinking his eyes rapidly as he tried to focus on his surroundings, "It's nothing. Just a bit lightheaded for a moment," he said finally, looking up and meeting their questioning gazes before adding a little too quickly, "So, I guess we should get this started then, right?"

McCoy gave Jim a hard look, then stepped forward, taking out his tricorder and scanning Jim once more.

Jim rolled his eyes in exasperation, trying not to grimace at the pounding black spots behind his eyes at the movement. "Oh come on, Bones. I already told you, it was noth-"

"Sit," McCoy ordered sharply, pointing to the operating table. Jim scowled, but reluctantly obeyed, kicking his legs out from the table nervously.

Spock stepped to the table as McCoy continued scanning, observing the process with a clinical interest.

Something caught McCoy's attention, and he frowned, eyebrows furrowing together in concentration as he fiddled with the volume control of the tricorder. Two loud beeps could now be heard emitting from the device.

"What's that?" Jim finally asked.

McCoy responded with a question of his own, giving Jim a pointed glance-over. "How are you feeling right now?"

"I feel fine," Jim said, with no small amount of annoyance.

McCoy performed an impressive rendition of Spock's eyebrow tilt, looking thoroughly unconvinced.

Jim sighed. "I feel a little tired, but that's it. I swear."

"Still feeling dizzy?" McCoy prompted.

Jim paused, taking stock of himself. "No," he answered honestly.

McCoy sighed, scrubbing a hand nervously over his face before looking between Spock and then Jim. "Well, that first beeping sound you heard, that's your heart. You're in what's called Atrial Fibrillation. Don't ask me how or why, because I can't answer that. But what it means is that your heart isn't beating the way it's supposed to."

"And the source of the second alert?" Spock asked persistently.

McCoy glanced at Jim briefly, his eyes flicking to him and back to Spock so quickly that Jim wasn't even sure if he had caught it. "I didn't want to say just yet..." he hedged reluctantly, "but I think that was the failsafe activating."

Jim stared incredulously for a moment, then couldn't help but exclaim, "And you didn't think that was, I don't know, important?"

McCoy flared right back, "Because I knew you'd react like this! Now listen, we can stop it, but we'll have to move fast. So let's get started." He paused for a moment and looked at Jim's shirt pointedly. "And you'll have to take that off."

Jim hesitated for a second, then slowly grinned and stood, hands ready at the hem of his shirt, but was unable to resist a final shot. "If that's how you like it."

McCoy snorted with reluctant amusement. "You may be easy on the eyes, kid, but you ain't my type."

Jim leaned back against the table casually. "Oh? Then what-"

"If," Spock said acidly, "you two would not mind postponing your discussion of human courtship protocol, I believe we are on a schedule?"

McCoy glanced at Jim and shook his head fondly, then began fumbling in his medkit, pulling out a capped hypospray.

"What's that?" Jim asked warily, eyeing the hypospray with distaste.

"Something I hoped I'd never have to use," McCoy sighed. "Of course, it figures it'd have to be on you."

"How much time do we have left?" Jim asked.

"About twenty minutes, but we still have to hurry. Now take it off already."

Jim promptly pulled up the hem of his shirt, grimacing as the scar over his chest tugged uncomfortably. He had the garment pulled halfway over his head before something suddenly struck him. And like all impetuous ideas, it struck hard. "Wait," he said, pausing.

"Jim, we don't have time for this-"

"No, listen," Jim said, his excitement mounting as he pulled his shirt back down. "You said I was in AF?"

McCoy squinted at him impatiently, "Atrial Fibrillation, yeah, why?"

"They said something about it. The terrorists, I mean." It was coming back now, the blurry mumbles in the background of his memory snapping briefly into white clarity. "Before they shocked me."

"Well, of course. Your heartbeat was normal when I first scanned you," McCoy said, nonplussed. "But the defibrillator's shot now. Literally. So if you're suggesting we shock you back to-"

"Look, the fail safe was only activated when the AF started, right? So we know they're somehow linked. Well… what if there's another way to fix it?" Jim persisted. "Another way to do this without having to stop my heart now?"

"What are you going on about?"

"We cheat the system." Jim was unable to hold back his triumphant grin, looking from McCoy to Spock. "We trick the bomb."

"Jim," McCoy said, looking like he was at his wit's end. "Damn it, man, make some sense here."

"Come on, Bones, don't you see? We can use compressions to throw off the AF, since that seems to be the only rhythm the fail safe can pick up on, right?"

"I see. The captain does raise a logical point," Spock said suddenly, his head tilting slightly in consideration. "You are suggesting that we attempt to correct your cardiac rhythm by simulating an alternative pace through manual means in order to delay the fail safe."

"Exactly." Jim nodded and looked around at McCoy expectantly.

The doctor looked pensive, his frown deepening. "You know, you'd have to be sedated for this, Jim. I'm not fully equipped for that kind of procedure down here."

"I can do it without."

"No, you damn well can't," McCoy retorted. "Not without decent pain relief that we don't have!"

"It's not a big deal, Bones, really." Jim pointed at himself. "Crazy high pain tolerance, remember?"

McCoy glowered at him, indicating just what he thought of Jim's pain tolerance. "You do know what you're actually asking us to do, right?"

"I do," Jim said adamantly, looking at the two of them with steady intent. Spock's gaze sharpened in disapproval when Jim met his eyes, but said nothing. Jim continued, "If you're worried that doing the compressions while I've still got a pulse will, I don't know, damage my heart or something, you know there's no actual evidence out there to back it up."

"That's beside the point!" McCoy snapped, visibly seething. "I don't think you get just how bad this is going to be for you."

Jim blinked, taken aback. "What?"

McCoy's glare sharpened adamantly. "You could be seriously injured, Jim. A cracked rib at the least, and several broken ribs wouldn't be out of the question. The only reason they still teach the damn thing in school is that, somehow, it still works!"

Jim shrugged. "I've had broken ribs before."

"This isn't a joke."

"And I'm not joking. Look, I've dealt with pain all my life. I'll be fine."

McCoy shared a long, commiserating look with Spock that somehow pissed Jim off, and he narrowed his eyes irritably until they turned back to face him.

"If anything, this could increase my chances of surviving," Jim argued, trying to sound reasonable. "If we keep up the compressions to trick the device until the Enterprise is back online, then stop my heart and remove the bomb, you'll be able to get the equipment you need to shock me back. Considering that my heart won't be stopped as long, I should make an easier comeback than if we went with the original plan."

"I think you're forgetting that the very fact that you being able to feel this could put your body under a lot of distress. The risks alone are-"

"I know that," Jim cut in impatiently. "I'm not stupid, Bones."

"Then you also know that being conscious during this won't be an option." McCoy pushed, almost warningly.

"Well, that's more of an opinion, right?" Jim said vaguely.

McCoy looked at him incredulously, "You can't be serious, Jim."

Jim dropped his eyes briefly, then raised them again determinedly. "Could it work?"

"Why the hell would you want it to?!" McCoy gestured vehemently with his hands as he spoke, slashing at the air angrily. "It's crazy, it's-"

"You didn't answer my question, Bones."

McCoy made a strangled noise, his face flushing. "I can't listen to this anymore." He turned around firmly, his back to Jim and Spock, fuming silently.

Jim squinted disbelievingly at his friend, then glanced at Spock for backup. His first officer unhelpfully avoided his gaze, and Jim returned his glare to McCoy's back with renewed irritation.

"Bones, come on- don't be like- would you just-" Jim swore fiercely under his breath, shaking his head. "Bones, answer me, damn it. Could this work, or not?"

"Theoretically speaking...yes," McCoy answered reluctantly, turning back around slowly and looking disgruntled at having to answer at all. "But it's a bad idea, Jim."

"So let's test the damn theory if it'll make you feel better!" Jim retorted impetuously. He climbed onto the table, stretching himself out on his back. McCoy frowned, realization spreading across his expression.

"You wouldn't..."

Jim ignored him, looking at Spock instead. "Here, give it a go," he said, waving at his chest. Spock squinted slightly, the faint crease between his eyes the only indication of his confusion.

Jim gestured again pointedly. "Come on, Spock, push. We have to see if the compressions will stop the countdown."

When Spock hesitated, Jim rolled his eyes. "You're not going to hurt me, if that's what you're worried about. I can take it."

"Jim, perhaps you are overestimating your own endurance," Spock said quietly, his expression indiscernible. Jim exhaled impatiently and reached over, grabbing Spock's hand by the wrist and bringing it over to his own chest. He pressed Spock's palm over his sternum, feeling his own heartbeat pounding beneath the light pressure, and watched as the Vulcan looked away.

"Come on," he urged quietly, until Spock reluctantly met his eyes again, a fleeting moment of torn indecision within them.

McCoy broke in angrily, "You can't ask him to do that, Jim. You leave him out of this!"

"He is a part of this!" Jim retorted, glancing sharply at the doctor. McCoy subsided, though he remained visibly seething.

Jim turned back to Spock, tightening his grip on the Vulcan's wrist reassuringly. "This can work, Spock," he said steadily. "It's perfectly logical."

Spock, finally relenting, overlapped his hands, intertwining the fingers of his right hand with his left, and positioned himself over the center of Jim's chest. Jim nodded in approval, bracing himself for the impact...and Spock didn't move.

"Do it," Jim prompted. Spock blinked, uncertainty still evident in his otherwise stoic demeanor, and he made to shift his stance. Jim grabbed his hand instinctively, preventing him from withdrawing.

Spock's jaw set and he pulled his hand from Jim's sharply, and Jim sat up, staring at the Vulcan in bewilderment. There was a heavy note of disappointment in Spock's gaze before he finally turned away, striding several steps away from the table and stopping with his back to the others.

Jim waited a second before groaning in exasperation. "What was that about?" he demanded accusingly, swinging his legs off the table. Spock didn't answer, his shoulders tensing almost imperceptibly.

"Damn it, Spock, say something!" Jim snapped, irritation sharpening his voice.

The Vulcan turned and finally raised his eyes to Jim's. "Would it matter if I objected?" he said quietly.

"What?" Jim was taken off guard momentarily by the unexpected response.

"Would it change the course of matters," Spock said again, slower this time, "if I raised any objections."

Jim's lips pressed into a thin line, his frustration flooding back in full force as his surprise faded. "No."

"Then I see no reason for me to speak."

"Look, we don't have time for-"

"Affirmative," Spock said at once, "and so I will speak plainly. I find your plan extremely disagreeable-"

"Spock-"

"I am not finished, Captain." The emphasis on the title was clear. Jim reluctantly closed his mouth and glowered as Spock pushed on, "I do not wish to inflict pain on you by any means. However, as your friend, I will respect your wishes if you allow me one request."

"And what's that?" Jim asked suspiciously.

Spock took a deep breath, then said, "Captain, I believe my natural abilities as a Vulcan may be of service in this situation."

"What?" Jim stared at him, confused, before realization sent him reeling. "You want to meld with me?"

"I believe it will at least partially alleviate the discomfort caused by-"

Jim raised his hands, halting Spock mid-reel, and frowned, his thoughts still staggering. "Wait...emotions and memories are transferred through mind-melds, right?"

"Indeed."

"And what about physical sensations? What about pain?"

Spock had caught on to the intention behind the pointed questions. "It is an unavoidable byproduct of the meld, yes."

"Then no," Jim said decidedly. "Out of the question."

"Captain, I must object-"

"Do I need to make this an order, Commander?" Jim asked challengingly, crossing his arms.

Spock's eye twitched, a telltale sign of rising anger beneath his cool facade. He took a step forward, closer to Jim. "I do not understand the apparent disregard you have for your own life."

Jim closed the distance between them, placing himself impudently in Spock's personal space and lifting his chin defiantly. His eyes narrowed slightly, almost challengingly, as he responded, "And what I don't get is why this even matters to you."

When Spock merely stared at him, his own eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to suppress his anger, Jim smirked, and added callously, "Oh, that's right. You'd like to pretend that this is actually going to affect you."

"Jim..." McCoy objected, unable to stay quiet any longer.

Jim ignored him, eyes never leaving Spock's, daring him to protest. The sight of the Vulcan resolutely keeping his composure set Jim off more than he would care to admit, and he jabbed his finger at Spock's chest aggressively. "You can choose not to feel, so why don't you?!"

"Not when it concerns you."

Jim stopped, caught off guard by the frank admission. Spock stared at him a moment longer before dropping his gaze, and McCoy took the opportunity to intervene. He pushed at Jim's shoulder just enough to break the two of them apart and gave his chest a hard shove. "What the-"

"Did you enjoy that?" McCoy demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he converged on Jim.

"What?" Jim asked incredulously.

"You heard me."

"What are you-"

"All right. Maybe you like it harder." McCoy shoved him again with more force. Jim winced, rubbing at his sternum.

"Ow, Bones, what the hell!"

"It's going to hurt worse than that. A lot worse. But I think you just might like that."

"What are you talking about?!" Jim yelled, frustrated beyond coherency.

McCoy scoffed. "I think you know. If you're into this sort of thing, you know there are other ways you can go about getting it."

Jim clenched his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. "Shut up. I'm not into it—"

McCoy squinted, a suspiciously knowing glint in his eye, and Jim sighed angrily. He glanced quickly at Spock, feeling a flush of shame and embarrassment creeping up the sides of his neck before turning back to McCoy.

"Look, Bones, I'm not some kind of masochist or anything, alright?"

"I don't know, Jim, I'm starting to think you've got a few screws—"

"Damn it, Bones, I told you! I don't get off on this crap!" He waved his arms in frustration.

"Bullshit."

It was the final straw. Jim turned his back resolutely, pausing for a lingering moment, then suddenly spun on his heel, punching the wall behind him hard in a surge of fury. His knuckles throbbed and pulsed with pain from the impact, but he welcomed its grounding presence with a weary familiarity.

When he turned back around, Jim found himself unable to look at either of his friends. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to slow his breathing. "It's not like that," he murmured, at last, his anger simmering down to a dull ache.

"What aren't you telling us, Jim?" McCoy demanded, crossing his arms. His voice was still stern, though it had softened slightly in concern.

Jim stared at the ground between his feet for a moment before responding, "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," McCoy challenged.

"We don't have time for this!" Jim argued.

McCoy sighed heavily. "Look, Jim. We're not doing this until you give us the real reason. Now, the way I see it, you either enjoy pain a little too much, or—"

Jim looked up, giving McCoy a warning look.

"Or...you can't live without it."

They were both looking at him, the two best friends he'd ever had, and he had never felt so vulnerable and exposed as he did now.

"The question is, why, Jim?" McCoy pressed carefully, when Jim didn't respond, his voice less gruff than what Jim was accustomed to.

Jim looked strained. Hell, this was embarrassing. "Why does it matter?"

"Because we care about you, damn it!" McCoy growled.

Jim wasn't sure who looked more surprised at the passionate outburst, Spock or himself. The Vulcan glanced at Jim, the extra seconds it took him to recover telling Jim more than he was sure Spock wanted him to know.

Jim finally relented. "It's...safe," he sighed reluctantly, though he wasn't sure that was the proper description. There wasno way for him to explain how he felt; it was why he had never bothered, before now. "Pain, I mean. I-I can't explain it, but... it's just safe, somehow."

He paused, struggling with his words. Spock and McCoy watched him quietly, their anticipating silence making the task even more difficult.

Jim gave a short, nervous laugh at last, shaking his head. "This isn't gonna make any sense, but, like I said, I've dealt with it my whole life. I don't know what's like to not feel something….especially pain. And I sure as hell don't want to either, because..."

"You don't know anything different," McCoy finished quietly.

Jim looked up, surprised, and met his friend's steady gaze. He nodded slowly, the anxiety in his chest gradually loosening.

After a long moment, during which McCoy glanced askance at Spock and received a short nod in response, the doctor subsided, visibly straightening himself out. "All right." He took a deep breath, nostrils flaring in old irritation. "All right," he repeated. "Say, just say that we go along with this inane plan. You have to promise me one thing, Jim. When this is all over, we're going to talk about this. Properly."

"Whatever you say, Bones," Jim sighed, exasperated.

"That's not going to cut it, kid," McCoy answered sharply.

"All right," Jim said, and frowned as the world tilted sideways for a brief moment. He squinted down at his feet and pinched the bridge of his nose as another wave of dizziness swept over him. "We will."

McCoy looked at Spock, then back to Jim in concern. "Jim, what is it?"

Jim caught himself against the wall before he could fall, clenching his eyes shut. "Damn it, everything's spinning..."

"You need to lie down," McCoy said at once; Jim nodded, taking a step towards the operating table. That was as far as he got before his legs gave out and he was heading for the floor. Spock stepped forward swiftly and caught him around the waist before he completely collapsed, hooking an arm behind his knees and lifting him up bodily.

"Whoa-" Jim protested groggily, as the world lurched precariously around him.

McCoy was hurrying to the operating table. "Put him here," he ordered Spock, reaching for his tricorder and glancing at it briefly. "Hurry, there's only ten minutes on the clock."

Spock set Jim down carefully, frowning when the man let out a pained groan.

"You'll be careful, won't you?" McCoy asked Spock cautiously, suddenly worried. "Not to go overboard on him."

"Of course, Doctor," Spock answered, rolling up his sleeves briskly. "I possess more than adequate control over my own strength."

"Good. All right, we're going to need to put these on you," McCoy told Jim, rattling one of the wrist cuffs at the side of the table.

Jim eyed it skeptically, blinking away the sweat threatening to drip into his eyes. "Is that really necessary?"

"Everyone's got their limits, kid."

The tricorder emitted a strange beep, cutting off any response Jim might have made. McCoy looked at the device distractedly, then did a double take, bringing it closer to his face and squinting at the screen in disbelief. "Wait a minute...this can't be right."

Spock looked over sharply, alerted by the note of alarm in McCoy's voice. "Doctor?"

"When I checked this damn thing a few seconds ago I could swear there were ten minutes left. It's gotta be a secondary fail safe, somehow."

"How much time do we have, Doctor?"

McCoy studied the screen carefully, lips moving silently as he calculated the new readings. His eyes widened as he reached his conclusion, the color receding swiftly from his face.

"Shit."

McCoy set down the tricorder, practically slamming it down with his haste, and began fumbling with the leather restraints. The Vulcan, not requiring further clarification at this point, moved quickly to the other side to assist him.

A moment later, McCoy glanced down swiftly at the tricorder and swore. "No time," he said tersely, abandoning his efforts and grabbing the device once more. "You'll have to straddle him."

After a brief consideration, Spock placed a hand firmly on the edge of the operating table and swung a leg over and across in one fluid motion, settling his weight over Jim's waist and securing Jim's arms to his sides with his knees. Jim grunted at the foreign pressure, struggling instinctively until Spock met his eyes steadily, reassuring in his collected silence.

"We're down to thirty...twenty-nine- shirt!" McCoy ordered, sparing a brief glance up from the timer.

Focused intently on his task, Spock grasped the front of Jim's collar and ripped his shirt open, the force of his movements causing Jim's back to jerk slightly off the table before thumping back down.

"Twenty-five..."

Spock flicked the torn pieces of fabric over Jim's sides, exposing his bare chest, and placed his hands firmly into position, leaning forward. He paused for the space of a breath, a heartbeat, steadying himself—

"Now!" McCoy shouted, the resounding command triggering Spock's next action.

Spock dropped down hard for the first compression, Jim uttering a startled grunt as he absorbed the full brunt of the blow. When Spock pushed down again, the resulting huff of air held a hint of strain this time, Jim's eyes clenching shut as his head jerked back against the table. The tricorder's beeping altered slightly, faltering in its constancy as it picked up Spock's efforts. But still the timer continued, its merciless decline as brutally uncomplicated as any act of nature. The final moments...ten...nine...

McCoy stared down at his tricorder disbelievingly, counting, praying. "It's not working," he muttered bewilderedly, his fingers whitening around the device. "Why the hell isn't it working?"

The tricorder beeped suddenly with a loud, foreign sound. Jim's eyes snapped open, fixing unsteadily on Spock's face as his first officer pushed down again, his chest sinking painfully beneath the force of the impact. Red numbers flashed, five...

"I trust you," Jim gasped, searching for something in Spock's expression. Something, anything to hold on to-

...four...three...

"Stay with me, Jim," Spock responded firmly. Another forceful thrust, Jim's body jolting beneath him-

...two...one.