Thanks for the reviews! Here's a long chapter for your enjoyment. ;)


Chapter 3: They're Dead

Down the Hall from Engine Room 2

Spock drags me down here without an explanation or even a patient and then expects me to wait around for an hour!

It would be unnerving if it weren't so damn weird. Spock may be a lot of things, but he's not one to ask for my assistance without actually needing it.

Now I'm stuck here at the end of a crowded hallway, pacing anxiously. Half the deck has been evacuated and quartered off and yet no one has bothered to tell the good doctor what is going on. You would think there would be injuries I need to attend to, but so far no one has called for me.

The other weird thing about this whole scenario is that I haven't seen Jim or Spock since getting down here.

Force fields have been put in place to block access to the hall and only those in orange, protective gear are granted entrance. I move towards the force field and approach a familiar yeoman who is standing by the wall with her arms crossed along her chest.

"Yeoman…?" I ask, my voice trailing off as I forget her name. It's on the tip of my tongue… it's so close… I almost have it but… damn.

"Sanders." She answers. The name doesn't ring any bells. "I assist Captain Kirk," she clarifies, recognizing my confusion. Jim keeps telling me I should study the crew roster and get to know everyone by name, but hell, I'm a doctor! As long as I can patch 'em up when they come into sickbay, I don't really need to know their names.

Then again, moments like these remind me that Jim sometimes has a point.

"Of course, Yeoman Sanders," I recover gracefully. The woman smiles slightly. She has bright, hazel eyes and dark, wavy hair that is pulled back into a professional ponytail. "Do you have any idea what's going on here?" I ask, trying not to sound too desperate for information.

"I was hoping you would know, Dr. McCoy," she comments, shooting a worried glance down the hall. I sigh with frustration, not because of the yeoman, but because no one knows anything!

What the hell is Jim up to? And where's Spock?

"Engineer Martin told me something had happened down here so I decided to see for myself because I'm curious," Yeoman Sanders continues, if only to make idle conversation, "and of course, I'm off-duty right now." She adds hurriedly, obviously fearing for a moment that I would think she was shirking her duties. That's the problem with being the Captain's best friend, everyone thinks you're gonna rat 'em out.

I nod, not really listening to what she is saying. Instead my attention is focused on the activity down the hall.

Then another question occurs to me.

"Have you seen Jim?" I ask. The yeoman furrows her eyebrows confusedly.

"You mean the Captain?" She clarifies. I nod and wave my hand impatiently to signal for her to just answer the question. "I haven't seen him since early this morning at the beginning of alpha shift." She responds. I slump my shoulders. Everyone I've talked to so far has said the same thing.

"Typical," I mutter under my breath.

"Excuse me?" Yeoman Sanders asks uncertainly. She's starting to show signs of discomfort under my scrutiny. I guess I just have that effect on people.

"Jim can never sit still through a whole shift. I swear the man has ADD or something." I grunt, still frustrated by his unknown whereabouts.

The yeoman cracks a soft smile and I begin to wonder whether Jim would mind if Ms. Sanders helped out for a while in Sickbay. After all, we're understaffed as is and I reason that Jim is too independent-minded to have such a delightful yeoman running errands for him. Jim has Spock to give him reports and assist him, while I imagine Yeoman Sanders probably ends up sitting around with nothing to do. I think it's a reasonable proposition. Plus, it'd be nice to have a conversation with someone new for once.

Suddenly, I am reminded that alpha shift has just ended as some familiar voices reach my ears. I bid farewell to Yeoman Sanders before turning around to see Uhura, Chekov, and Sulu all heading towards me.

They all look concerned.

"Hey, McCoy," Sulu greets amiably. "Have you seen Kirk or Spock? They never returned to the bridge." He asks hurriedly, obviously eager to get some tangible answers. I can tell that he's being very careful about his word choices.

"Spock told me to meet him here, but when I got down here, the whole hallway was blocked. No one's been able to tell me anything." I answer bitterly while crossing my arms. All three of them look surprised by the news.

"Well does anyone know yet why the reactor exploded? We didn't get the news until about thirty minutes ago." Sulu furthers. I can feel my eyebrows furrowing into a frown.

"Thirty minutes ago? I've been waiting around here for more than an hour now and no one's been able to tell me anything. Why wasn't the bridge informed?" I ask, surprised by the lapse in communication. Surely, the bridge would have been the first to be informed of a crisis. A reactor explosion is not exactly something that can be easily overlooked.

"According to Scotty, the communication systems are down in this region of the ship. The maintenance staff has yet to find the cause." Uhura answers. Then her eyes quickly cloud with perceptible concern. "Wait, but Spock came down here to find the Captain about an hour ago and if the explosion happened… I mean, if you haven't seen the Captain or Spock, then…" Her eyes glance fearfully down the hall. She doesn't need to finish her statement in order for us to understand her meaning.

Before our imaginations can get the best of us, I recognize one of the crewmembers in one of those orange suits as he heads towards me and back into the "safe area."

"Scotty!" Sulu remarks eagerly. Scotty moves through the barrier and comes up to us.

"What the hell happened?" I interject with my usual eloquence. "There better be a good reason for..." Scotty takes off his mask and I pause mid-sentence, taken back by his grim expression. I have never seen Scotty ever so much as frown, let alone be on the verge of tears.

"W-what's happened?" I ask instead, not sure I want to hear his answer. I know this has something to do with Jim. It always has to do with Jim. Scotty takes a deep breath, brushes his hand along the back of his neck, and turns his gaze to his boots.

"The reactor… it-it exploded." He explains, nearly stuttering on every word. I'm not sure what to make of his statement. "I never got a message that anything was wrong, only that some equipment had collapsed. I never… I didn't know…" Scotty looks guilty, like he's beating himself up for doing something unspeakable. No one around me dares ask… but I have to know.

"What are you saying?" I question slowly. Scotty looks up with a thin coat of tears clouding his eyes.

"They're dead, Dr. McCoy."

~ // ~

Engine Room 2

The first sense of awareness I have is that I am surrounded by comfortable warmth. Unfortunately after another moment the numbness in my nerves begins to fade to reveal searing pain all over my skin.

The second sense I am reunited with is smell as the scent of blood rises around me. The smell causes me to gag, which then turns into an aching cough. I try to roll over onto my side, but I find that I can't.

This is when I finally regain my sense of sight. My blue eyes flutter open, but my vision is clouded by thick smoke. I shift uncomfortably until I can see the thing, or rather person, who is pinning me to the ground.

"S-spock?" I stutter fearfully. I push him to my side and gently place my fingers on his neck to try to feel for a pulse. I feel nothing, but then again I know next to nothing about Vulcan anatomy. In my current state of mind, I can't bear to think that my first officer could be dead because of me, so my mind shifts into Captain mode and buries this fear to be dealt with later.

What I do know is that his face, and most every visible part of his body, is spattered with both green and red blood. It takes me a long moment to realize that the red blood is from my own wounds. I look down at my torso and find that I'm covered in cuts of varying severity caused by both glass and fragmented metal. I turn my gaze back to Spock and note that his wounds are similar to mine. Surprisingly, they seem relatively minor or at least not too severe. That is until I notice a deep, bloody gash on his head just above his pointed ear. "Spock?" I lean down and shake him a little, but the man doesn't even stir.

It never occurs to me during this examination that I cannot hear. I can't even hear my own voice, but the resounding shock of being alive overcame this very basic perception. My ability to hear gradually returns and I can hear distant movement and quiet voices.

"Help," I manage to say, albeit in a voice that sounds pitiful even to my own ears. I see people moving through the smoke, but they don't appear to hear me. "Help!" I say louder. I look back at Spock and examine his head injury more closely. My fingers lightly slip down his face and along his jaw line. God only knows how long I've wanted to touch Spock like this, but I had definitely imagined it happening under very different circumstances.

I take a deep breath, warding of the pain shooting through my legs. I need to get help. "Spock, stay here. I'll come back." I promise before painfully getting to my feet. I stagger for a moment, but then balance myself using the wall. I look around me and notice that it was sheer luck that Spock and I weren't crushed.

I squint my eyes as I try to see through the misty haze of the room. My only thought is that Spock needs help now. I try to fight off the agonizing idea that perhaps Spock is already dead.

Suddenly, I can distinguish a figure nearby who is clad in an orange protective suit.

"We're over here!" I holler, but the man still doesn't hear me. He even looks in my direction but somehow misses my presence. Then he starts moving away from me and I feel anger rising in my chest.

"Where are you going? We're right here!" I yell as I stagger towards him. The man looks in my direction again. "Get Bones! Spock's bleeding!" I demand angrily, but the man doesn't move. Instead he simply looks down at his tricorder. "Did you not hear me? That's an order!" I yell as I reach out my hand to firmly grab his shoulder. Just as I should have made contact with his thick suit, I find myself falling forward as if slipping through air. I collapse on the floor and glance up at the man.

"What the hell?" I remark as I stare, horrified by the fact that my legs extend through the man in front of me. I scuttle backwards and away from the ensign before gracelessly pulling myself to my feet. I look down at my hands and find that they look like they always do, except of course more bloody. I then return my gaze to the oblivious crewmember in front of me. I reach towards him again, but quickly recoil when my hands slips through him as if he doesn't exist at all. Am I dead? Am I seeing things? Is this a dream? It all feels so real: this room, the pain, and the blood."I can't touch you…" I comment to myself, rubbing my fingers together as if to prove to myself that I still exist.

The ensign then leaves me and disappears into the smoke. I suddenly realize that the smoke has no effect on me besides blocking my vision. I can breath as if the atmosphere is clear as day… and yet I can smell and taste the faintest tinge of blood.

The room suddenly starts to spin, probably caused by my sudden movements combined with my extensive blood loss. I fall backwards against a barely intact console, my hands clamping tightly onto the worn edge. Pain surges through my whole body and I grit my teeth and find myself inwardly begging for one of Bones' hypos. Just as quick as the pain took over, it recedes until it is back to a tolerable level. My focus, though still fairly disoriented, returns to my surroundings.

Suddenly I notice the sensation of one of my fingers brushing against a small metal object. I look down to see that the object is a screw. I pick it up, my mind slowly trying to process the sudden change of events. "But I can touch this." I tell myself quietly, as I look at the screw and then the console I'm leaning against.

This shit is getting way too weird for me… and I'm alone in all this. I look back in the direction of my unconscious First Officer.

"Spock?" I ask as I slip the screw into my pocket before quickly making my way back to him. I try to suppress another bout of vertigo as I kneel down beside him, just like he did with me before the explosion. "Spock, wake up." I urge as I shake him impatiently. I can feel panic starting to surface in my mind. I'm not sure I'll be able to figure this out without him. "Please, wake up, Spock!" Captain James T. Kirk never begs, but right now I'm pleading and willing to promise anything in exchange for his life.

To my overwhelming relief, Spock shifts slightly, his eyes fluttering beneath his eyelids. He's not dead! "Spock!" I announce emphatically, my hands still braced against his shoulders. He opens his eyes, his vision trained on the ceiling above us.

That's when it hits me that Spock may be just as oblivious to my presence as that ensign was. "Spock, please say you can see me?" I question hopefully. Spock's dark eyes turn towards me. "Please?" I further.

"Jim?" Spock asks, his face as close to shock as I've ever seen it before quickly shifting back into its neutral expression.

"You can see me!" I remark happily.

"Indeed." Spock replies simply. He then looks me over as if gauging my injuries. "We are alive?" He asks in an uncertain, quiet voice. He seems to struggle to speak and I'm taken back by how short and un-Spockish he sounds. "Where is Dr. McCoy?"

"They can't see us," I blurt out, not even considering how stupid the statement sounds. Spock tries to raise an eyebrow, but it comes across as more of a wince. Then I realize that it was more likely a painful wince being covered up by an attempted raised eyebrow. A wince for Spock must indicate a lot of pain, but then again, I have never truly seen the Vulcan injured before so I can't really tell. He still hasn't tried to sit up, which cannot be a good sign. My limited medical knowledge, (mostly derived from helping Bones study for tests back at the Academy) tells me that Spock needs to see a doctor as soon as possible. Head injuries are not to be underestimated. "Can you walk?" I ask tentatively, knowing that if he cannot, I will be forced to leave him again to get help. Spock sits up and I try to help by pulling him forward slightly.

"It appears that I must," he replies stoically. To my surprise, he pulls himself to his feet with relative ease. He then places his hand on my shoulder in order to steady himself before moving his other hand to lightly touch the gash above his ear. He winces again and pulls his hand away to examine the traces of green blood staining his fingers.

"You okay?" I ask anxiously. Spock pauses a moment to process my question.

"My head…" Spock replies simply, placing his fingers on his temple as if to ward off a headache. His gaze is unfocused and he doesn't look me in the eyes as he speaks. "I am not sure where else," he adds, his sentence not really expressing a complete thought.

I'm really starting to worry now.

I may not have known Spock for that long, but I've been through enough crises and missions gone awry to know that Spock is always the levelheaded beacon of rational logic amidst chaos. Sure, we may not agree on everything… actually, we're at odds quite often, but he always stays calm and in control, even if the whole ship is on the brink of destruction (which happens more often than you'd think).

Our relationship has definitely changed dramatically since the Nero incident when he tried to kill me on the bridge (and nearly succeeded). We've come a long way in six months. Actually I spend most of my downtime with him now, playing chess and finishing reports. I even consider him one of my closest friends and more recently, my secret love interest…-uh, I mean, not love exactly, but you know something less nerve wrecking like a crush. Yeah, an innocent, temporary crush. This really isn't the time to think about your feelings for your first officer, my mind reminds me as my focus returns to the crisis at hand.

Romantic aspirations aside, we've come to trust each other to the fullest extent possible ever since the first time on the Narada when Spock trusted me to cover for him. He's saved my life so many times and vice-versa.

Spock tries to take a step, but stumbles and end ups leaning heavily on me with his fingernails digging into my shoulder. I grimace from the sudden pain, but refuse the instinct to drop him. Spock seems to notice this and lessens his grip slightly. "I cannot seem to focus," he confesses, finally making eye contact, if only for a moment.

"Maybe the radiation is clouding the room. If we leave, we might be able to get help," I reason as I try to lead Spock to where the door should be.

"Logical," Spock comments quietly, still keeping his sentences as short and simple as possible. I navigate through the thick smoke and lead Spock towards the faded light of the hallway. The door was blown apart in the blast so we can easily get through. As soon as we exit into the hallway, I have to cover my eyes until I can adjust to the blinding lights.

Then I hear a familiar voice that draws my blue eyes down the hall.

"They're dead, Dr. McCoy."


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