A/N: First of all, my deepest apologies. I only have sporatic access to the Internet now that school's out. I promise you I will finish this, but updates will be scattered until August when I get back. I'm so, so sorry! I hate it when people take forever to update... and now I'm doing it to you. I feel horrible. Sadly, I must leave you hanging again, until my next meeting with the web. There is more, but I have to nitpick a bit. Don't give up... but I can't move very fast. Again.
Uhura's morning rapidly developed a pattern. She took ten minutes to fall asleep, woke up five minutes later coughing, and then tried to fall asleep again. For variety's sake, she sneezed every fourth or fifth interval.
There was also a question of position. Lying flat meant she couldn't breathe. Propping up her head on pillows let her breathe, but hurt her neck. Lying sideways alleviated the neck pain, but then she could only breathe out of a single nostril, as all the mucus rushed to one side or another.
She ached. She was cold. She was hot. She was cold. Groaning, she wrapped a blanket around herself and shuffled to the bathroom for a drink of water. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she groaned again. Bed-head, a swollen nose, and red eyes created what Spock would call a fascinating picture.
Spock. This time what came out of her mouth resembled a whimper. She hadn't told him she'd be gone. Hadn't even commed him. He'd be quietly not-freaking-out-because-that-is-illogical all day, and the end of his shift would see him bee-lining for her door.
With that in mind, she set a new goal for herself: be better, or at least look better, by the end of Alpha, to avoid a scene with a not-anxious Vulcan.
"Drugs," she mumbled. "I need major, major drugs." Grabbing the second of six hypos the medic had supplied her with, she jabbed herself in the arm and stumbled back to bed.
The passage of time remains consistent whether one "watches the clock" or not, so Spock remained focused on his duties, mechanically completing one report after another. Science lab four requisition forms: approved and sent to the quartermaster. Ensign Warren's project proposal: denied until he could better articulate the benefits of pursuing such a line of research, especially when a similar experiment had been done by Dr. H. Ghnanin in 2156. Accident report of minor explosion in lab two, no injuries: read and signed. Recommended disciplinary action for crewmember asleep during said explosion: submitted to the captain for approval. Confirmation of recalibration, all instruments, in lab two: read and signed.
At precisely eleven hundred hours, Spock set down his work and looked at Jim.
The captain jerked a thumb at the turbolift. "Mr. Spock, get out of here. I believe you're due for a lunch break." With a nod in acknowledgement, Spock quickly closed his remaining documents. Kirk grinned; was rushing logical? He wasn't about to ask. "Tell Uhura I hope she feels better."
Not even attempting to deny where he was going, Spock rose. "I shall deliver your message, captain."
Hiding smiles, the bridge crew watched him cross the floor and disappear behind softly swooshing doors. "Poor Uhura," Sulu mused. "If something's really wrong with her, heaven help the science labs."
"Yes, but she's in for some trouble too," Chekov added. "Meester Spock is wery…"
"Overprotective?" Sulu supplied.
"Caring," the navigator decided.
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