Jamie partly limped back to her quarters, the effects of anesthetic still apparent on her mind. She was drowsy, and a little giddy. No captaining tonight. Just rest. Only rest. Sweet blissful and much needed rest.

The door to her quarters slid open and the smell of vanilla and old books welcomed her in and she tossed her family's gift next to the bed, where it could be kicked under and forgotten.

She hadn't expecting a potted Plomeek plant to be sitting on her nightstand, a note from her Vulcan friend sitting next to it.

Captain,

You stated that you enjoyed the soup I made and wanted to 'play' with the recipe.

From my experience it tastes better with fresh ingredients.

Happy Birthday,

-Spock.

The formality made her giggle and roll her eyes. This was a much better gift than her family's halfhearted attempt to induce nostalgia.

And she would be playing around with the recipe and she was determined to make the best damn plomeek soup that stuffy Vulcan had ever tasted. What else are friends for?

Experimentation with Vulcan recipes could wait a bit longer though. The drowsiness was getting unbearable.

She stripped off the starchy gown and didn't bother putting on pajamas, instead choosing to curl under the red sheets naked; the cool air was somehow comforting.

Her head hit a decently comfortable pillow this time, blonde hair splaying out, tangled and dirty.

She herself had not expected Spock to become one of her first and only friends. When she first met him he infuriated her with his smartass ways and extensive vocabulary, his love for rules and regulations and his need to prove her wrong.

But that had grown on her. He was a challenge, someone who wouldn't be afraid to stand up to her, someone who could empower her and better her. Someone to stand by her as an equal, someone who looked at her as a Captain, not some scared little farm girl. He was the perfect first officer. Just like McCoy was the perfect CMO. What was it called when characters complimented each other in literature?

Jamie was too tired to remember.

Come to think of it, how had he gotten in her quarters?

"Doctor, we will be star charting for the next three months. If you need to restock on any supplies you should've informed me of the matter before the supply shuttle arrived," Spock almost sounded irritated, trying to concentrate on the experiment before him as McCoy heatedly argued toward him. He needed to meditate once again.

"Damnit Spock, my sickbay is well stocked. I'm talking about a special order for the Captain that never arrived."

"And to what special order are you referring?" Spock tried to hide his interest as he wrote down some calculations.

"I can't tell you. Doctor patient confidentiality. To be honest she doesn't even know she takes this medication."

Wasn't it illegal to medicate patients without their consent?

"Then in all good conscience I cannot specially order whatever you are requesting."

"You don't understand, if she doesn't take this things can go very bad."

"How so Doctor?"

"I'd prefer not to say. Just promise you'll order it and not ask any questions."

"I will do you this..favor this one time. But only because you claim it to be in the Captain's best interests from a medical stand point."

"I already told you I did."

"And I can only order if you tell me what it is and what it is for. "

"Stubborn hobgoblin. Fine, it's a mood elevator I developed myself, it's created at deep space seven's medical facility. Can you get it or not?"

The information was insufficient.

"I will try."

Jamie awoke to the sound of silence. If she had been on Earth, there would've been a sunrise. Thankfully not, she preferred her stars in clusters outside her window, not over an Iowa cornfield horizon.

Space indeed was the final and best frontier. She pulled a tank and regulation trousers over her nude form and stood by the window, watching the stars zoom by as she leaned over the bulkhead.

"Thank god my birthday's over. Got through it with almost no casualties too," she whispered to herself in an amused manner, turning her leg slightly. Ti felt better already. McCoy was truly amazing.

There were still about seven hours left of medical rest, and she knew Bones would personally break her other leg if she didn't do just that: rest.

Resigned to her fate, she sat at her desk and played McCoy's jazz record. Coltrane. Total classic. An ancient antique actually, and she absolutely loved it.

A game of chess against the computer wasn't as fun as a real game against Spock (the clever bastard had made sure you could almost never win against the system), but he was probably doing all the stuff she'd rather be doing. Even reports.

"I miss my chair. He better not be sitting in it. And he better be taking good care of my girl," she sighed.

Her apple a day from McCoy automatically replicated. Granny Smith. A little inside joke, "An apple a day keeps Bones away."

She promised him she'd eat it no matter what, every day. He started this little joke about a month after knowing her. No matter where they went he made sure her replicator made it around ten every morning. There was something special about his damn apples that made them taste great and made her feel great.

And it exceeded expectations even today. Too bad it couldn't speed up time or play chess.

McCoy had played chess with her once and after the first round he gave up and pulled out the bottle. They both had ended up completely inebriated, throwing the pieces each other and telling 'blank, blank, and a doctor walk into a bar' jokes. Besides, Bones was probably busy doing inventory or going after Nurse Chapel.

Smiling a wide tooth grin at the mere thought of what she was going to do, she pulled out her padd.

Spock,

Since you're probably sitting in my chair doing all the things I'd rather be doing let's play a game of riddles.

Illogical, but knowing that you will continue to pester me until I play along I see no choice but to do just that. You start.

What's black and white and red all over?

Many things. You need to work on your grammatical structure.

There's only one correct answer Spock. Try again.

Some species of plant I presume?

Wrong! A sunburnt penguin.

How illogical. That particular Earth species does not get 'sunburnt'.

Stuffy much? Your turn.

Very well. Its life can be measured in hours and it serves by being devoured. Thin, it is quick. Fat it is slow, and wind is its foe.

Good one.

Do you have an answer?

Patience, Vulcan.

Do you give up Captain?

A candle!

Correct.

Alright this one should stump you. What is the longest word in the dictionary?

Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis. The question was not a riddle.

Yes it was, and that's the wrong answer. (I bet you looked that up too.)

I can assure that it is the longest word in your English dictionary, and I did not search for it.

The answer is smiles, Spock. Because miles are in smiles.

Humorous and illogical. I'm assuming that's your way of 'teasing' me.

It is. Come down for chess after your shift?

Of course Captain.

A/N Okay another small fluffy and funny chapter. Next one gets all serious and interesting. And yes, I think I made up that long word.