I am sorry this took so long for me to write. I did intend to write it sooner but I just started university so everything is a bit up in the air at the moment. So I will probably be updating less frequently now but don't worry, I have not abandoned ship. Thank you for all of those have reviewed (and those who have favourited or are following this but reviews hold a special place in my heart), I think I replied to all of the reviews I could reply to but if I didn't please realise how much they mean to me. I enjoy writing but it is always nice to know that other people like it when I write too ;) I have been astonished by all the reviews and essentially the response to this fic so thank you everyone who is still reading this. Anyway, as a thank you for your patience in waiting for this chapter, as a reward it is a little longer than the others. And on a side note, I have a cold right now and in her review to chapter 3 SpaceGirl13 told me this fic made her feel better about the cold she had so I thought I'd see if this was true. So I know I told a lot of you I was going to be nicer to Jim in this chapter I'm sorry, I lied, I'm being nasty again. But his hurt is a different kind of hurt in this chapter to the rest so I wasn't entirely lying. But it did help me feel better so thank you SpaceGirl13 for this handy hint for curing the common cold. ;) Anyway, enough from me, on with the fic. And please do drop a review once you are done.

Andorian Shingles

Chapter 4- Darkness and Silence

When Checkhov went back on duty at Alpha shift he still felt harrowed by his experience in medlab the night before. The young Russian knew he looked awful; he hadn't slept at all when he had made his way back to his quarters after leaving once the Captain had been sedated. Whenever he shut his eyes all he could see was Jim's face contorted in pain. And on the occasions he actually managed to enter the realm between consciousness and sleep he was awoken by the sound of Kirk screaming. At 0500 hours he simply gave up and began reading the proposal for an engine upgrade, that the captain had recently approved, on his PADD.

When he sat down at his station he could feel the eyes of the pilot quietly analysing him. He studiously ignored Sulu's gaze and the man made no comment for which the navigator was thankful. The shift carried on as usual, perhaps Chekhov was a little quieter than usual but there was nothing which should have been a cause for alarm. However, about an hour into alpha the ever-perceptive Vulcan decided to bring up the fact he wasn't looking too hot. "Mr Chekhov, do you require a trip to sickbay?" Spock asked from the Captain's chair. Chekhov could feel every eye on the bridge on him and his cheeks quickly heated up and flushed a bright shade of pink. He took a deep breath and span around in his chair to face Spock, looking at the Vulcan straight in the eyes.

"I am fine Meester Spock," he replied politely.

"Are you sure?" came the slightly less polite voice of Sulu from next to him. "Because you look like utter crap."

The navigator hesitated, unsure of how much he should be telling them, especially since the whole bridge crew was watching proceedings. In this way a Starship was just like any other work place, everybody enjoyed seeing a good bit of drama and everybody liked to have something to gossip about. "I am ok," he concluded, but Spock obviously was not buying it. His eyebrow was raised and his head tilted quizzically and Chekhov knew that now there would be no stopping him until he found the answers he sought.

"I would like to remind you that as a member of Starfleet it is your duty to inform your Commanding Officer of any reason you may not be able to perform you job at optimum level lest you endanger the ship or prevent her from running smoothly."

"I am well Sir. I seemply did not sleep vell last night."

"Is this something which requires Dr McCoy's attention?"

"No!" Chekhov shouted annoyed at the interrogation he was receiving but instantly regretted his actions and looked down. "I am sorry Sir," he said more calmly. "I was in Sickbay visiting ze Keptin last night and zen I vent back to my quarters and could not sleep."

Chekhov felt Spock's gaze boring into him, cold and analytical and he did his best to not shrink back from it. "I am to take it something happened to the Captain last night?"

"No, vell yes but I do not theenk he or ze doctor vould vant me to disclose zis information." Spock nodded his head in acceptance of this answer. Smoothly he stood up and walked to the turbolift. Almost, it seemed, as an afterthought he shouted over his shoulder, "Mr Sulu, you have the conn."


Spock hurried down the corridors although he would not admit to himself that this is what he was doing, he wanted to get to medlab to see what was going on. He'd been down before his shift and the doctor on shift had told him the night was uneventful and Kirk had slept through. Apparently Dr McCoy had stayed around for a while and then headed off to his own quarters.

Upon entering the sickbay Spock was met by the sight of McCoy scanning Kirk who was still lying perfectly still. Unless he looked hard for it he could not actually see the rising and falling of Kirk's chest as he breathed so it was hard to tell that the man was alive at all save for the beeping of the medical equipment monitoring his heartbeat. "Doctor," Spock said to demand the attention of Bones as he headed to the Captain's bed.

"Spock!" McCoy exclaimed in surprise as the Vulcan approached him. "I wasn't expecting to see you down here; I heard you called this morning."

"I did Dr McCoy but something was brought to my attention which I felt required further investigation."

"Oh?" asked the doctor allowing a hint of frustration into his voice. He was busy and Spock's cryptic behaviour was not helping.

"Mr Chekhov alluded to an incident which occurred down here last night involving the Captain. He did not disclose any details but it appeared to have him quite, as you humans put it, shaken. When I was down here this morning I was not informed of any incident."

"Yes, well, I don't want to breach doctor-patient confidentiality."

"Doctor, your loyalty for maintaining the Captain's privacy is admirable but as First Officer I need to be fully aware of the Captain's condition so I can make decisions accordingly."

Bones sighed, knowing Spock was right. Confidentiality was difficult when it came to Starfleet Officers because their health could influence the safety of the ship. If he were to be honest he knew that Spock had every right to be informed of the Captain's health but Jim was his friend and he would feel like he was betraying him. "I'm sorry Spock, I can't tell you."

"You must tell me Doctor; that is an order." Crap, there really was no way he could get out of that one. "Doctor, I would not ask if I did not feel it was important for me to know. The Captain, Jim, is my friend too, I do not wish to go against his wishes but if there is a situation which could affect the ship I need to know about it."

"And what if I told you this would not affect the ship?"

"I would have to tell you that I would need to be the one to determine that. Mr Chekhov was quite shaken and is not performing to optimum level. Therefore I would argue the ship has already been affected. I need to know that there will be no, more serious effects."

"He, um… well last night he had a fever and it spiked during the night. Chekhov was with him when it happened, poor kid. He woke up and began to scratch at his skin; I think he thought there was something under there that he had to get out. Delusional parasitosis, it's not unheard of in patients with a high fever. Anyway we ended up having to sedate him but Chekhov was here so he had to hold down Jim's legs. After he was stable and I knew he wouldn't wake up so I went to bed and ordered all the staff not to tell anyone what happened." The two men looked down sadly at their sedated Captain; Spock had known since he officially began serving under Jim that there was something behind the happy-go-lucky façade he kept firmly in place. Bones was the only one who knew what lay behind the façade and it certainly was not a pretty sight. He felt saddened when he looked at the prone figure on the bed, the twenty-five year old who currently looked no older than Chekhov, who normally behaved like a ten year old but had experienced more pain and loss than most would have to endure in a lifetime. The body Bones was in charge of protecting had already been through so much and it bore the scars to prove it. And even though Jim had opened up to him so much more than anyone else he knew he didn't know the half of it and this saddened him more than he would ever admit to.

"I was just checking him out to make sure he's ok to be woken up when you came in," McCoy stated, picking up the tricorder once again and focussing it over Jim's head. "I think he'll be alright to be woken up, his eyes are starting to heal though we won't be able to get this bandage off for another couple of days but they should be much less painful. His temperature is still high but it shouldn't cause him to be delusional. "Bones picked up the hypospray lying next to Jim's bed and double checked the label, a habit he picked up after almost giving Jim a medicine he was allergic to on more than one occasion, before expertly dispensing the contents into his friend's bloodstream. "It's slow acting," Bones explained to Spock. "The transition back into wakefulness should be much easier for him than with a normal stimulant."


The two moons floated high above him, deep red in a sea of blue. Points of light decorated the sky, stars which a small Jim Kirk dreamt of being among as it meant that he would no longer be on the forsaken nightmare planet. The sky looked so beautiful and peaceful, a disturbing contrast to the bloodbath the planet had become. He looked down and saw a loaf of bread clasped tightly between his small hands. An entire loaf! That was more than he and the other children under his care had managed to get their hands on in quite some time. But he knew this meant he had to run, despite the painful hunger which ravaged him, he had to make sure he escaped everyone who had seen him with his prize, someone would have seen, someone always saw. Even adults would be willing to kill the twelve year old simply to get that loaf of bread.

So he began to run, ignoring the pain as sharp stones slashed through the toughed skin on the soles of his feet. He could hear feet pounding in the dust behind him so he sprinted as fast as he could, the familiar burning sensation in his chest began and Jim knew he could not keep it up for long. But he had to lose them, whoever they were; otherwise he would lose the bread and possibly his life at the same time.

Suddenly he realised that he was no longer pounding his feet on barren soil but rather the cornfields of Iowa. Glancing behind him he saw that it was his stepfather chasing him. If he was caught he would be beaten regardless of whether or not he had done something wrong. Jim desperately wanted to escape but the burning became unbearable as every cell in his body screamed for oxygen, the adrenaline coursing through his veins was no longer enough to sustain him. His bare foot caught on a stone and he felt himself tumbling to the ground. But the young boy did not have the strength to pull himself from the ground as he gasped in the air. Fear overtook him as he felt strong hands close around his neck, his already oxygen deprived body protesting greatly. With his diminished strength he fought instinctively in blind terror.

Suddenly the pressure on his windpipe was released and he took a deep breath of the cool air; revelling in the feeling of delicious air flowing into his body. But the relief was short lived; there was a sharp chill in the air, biting at his exposed skin painfully. Kirk realised he was back on Delta Vega as he opened his eyes and saw the dull ice around him and the familiar yet older face before him. There was pressure on his face and he felt himself being cast into an emotional turmoil. Kirk knew that despite the Vulcan's ability to maintain control over their emotions they actually felt them much more strongly than humans, they could cope with these strong emotions; their brains were made to cope with such things. On the other hand human brains did not have the neural pathways to deal with such depth and strength of emotions. All of these things Jim knew intellectually but as he felt the pain and the guilt of Spock, as he witnessed and felt the death of his planet and most of his species. And damn did it hurt, it physically hurt. It felt like his head was about to implode, about to get sucked into a black hole just as Vulcan had been. It was difficult for him to breathe and he wasn't sure quite how he would ever get over the pain he felt.

When he was eventually released from the mind meld he felt himself being thrown backwards, but instead of hitting ice as he expected he felt himself being flung into a computer panel, feeling incredibly dazed and a strong feeling of remorse lingered, making it difficult for him to register what was going on around him. A face appeared in his eye line, the younger version of Spock with a look of icy rage in his eyes. Once again a firm pressure was placed around his neck and he gasped for air desperately, but the worst part wasn't the fact he could not breathe but the knowledge that he in fact deserved the pain that was being inflicted on him.

Kirk's vision became hazy and black dots danced before his eyes as there was no longer sufficient oxygen reaching his brain. But unexpectedly the pressure stopped leaving the Captain to lie there gasping for air. But as soon as he regained full use of his sight he saw why Spock was no longer trying to kill him. Kahn was there, squeezing Spock's head viciously and his First Officer seemed incapacitated and unable to protect himself. Kirk tried to rescue Spock but he was no match for the super human, especially in his weakened state. But Vulcan had been lost; he couldn't let another Vulcan die. He could do nothing to help the Vulcan so he shouted to his bridge crew, none of whom seemed to even know he was there. "Captain, help me," Spock gasped desperately and it broke Kirk's heart even more. If Spock was pleading then the pain must be bad. There was a crack and Kirk's mind emptied of all things except the sickly crunching of bone and the laugh Kahn let out as Spock's limp body flopped to the floor. Rushing forward Kirk knelt at his friend's side, trying to help him even though he knew he was dead, the copious amount of green blood indicating as much.

The Captain remained by Spock's side, somehow unable to move as Kahn worked his way around the rest of the crew on the bridge, systematically killing everyone that Kirk cared about. Sulu, Uhura and Scotty were the first to go, each of them dropped to the floor begging Kirk to help them but he was unable to and he could feel silent tears rolling down his cheeks as blood began to soak the deck. None of the crew seemed to notice that there was something wrong until Kahn was killing them no matter how much Jim tried to warn them, and he just couldn't understand. Chekhov whimpered as the strong hands of Kahn began to put pressure on his skull, he looked so young and terrified, and he too begged Jim for help. Jim couldn't watch as Kahn cracked his skull and blood spilled from under the skin dyeing his light hair a deep shade of red. He couldn't stop himself being sick as he heard the flop of his young body as it dropped to the floor.

Kahn's footsteps echoed through the bridge and Jim looked up, his heart sinking. The evil man approached Bones and all Jim could do was watch, he no longer could even call out to warn his best friend. The man's normal, grumpy expression transformed into one of pure terror as the hands closed around his head and began to squeeze and squeeze until there was the characteristic crunch. Bones had not begged for help, he just looked at Kirk with trust, believing the man would get him out of his predicament, never doubting the captain once despite the terror he was feeling. But Kirk had let him down. Instead of trust those eyes looked at him vacantly, the usual carefully controlled kindness which resided in there was gone. It was gone; Bones was dead because he couldn't even save his best friend.


"Doctor, I do believe he is having a nightmare."

"Yes Spock, I am aware, there is nothing I can do about that unfortunately, we need to let the stimulant run its course." It pained Bones greatly to see his friend in such pain, when they had been sharing in the Academy nightmares were common for Jim, happening at least twice a week, more so when Jim was stressed with exams or something like that. It became a sort of ritual, Jim would start thrashing around or mumbling until it woke McC oy, the doctor would stumble out of bed, shake Jim awake, ask him if he wanted to talk about it and then stumble back into bed when Jim said no.

But this looked like something worse than it usually was; McCoy couldn't put his finger on it but somehow this was worse. The doctor pulled a stool over to the side of the bed and sat down. He began to run large but gentle hands through his friend's hair trying to calm him down as the nightmare ravaged him, causing him to cry out incoherently though the sound was one which would be associated with a sense of deep loss. This was a technique Bones had used a few times back in the Academy when he had not been able to wake Jim up from a nightmare to try and at least calm him down but this time it was not working. Jim continued to thrash about as he did before, covered in a sheen of sweat with his face contorted in pain. Guilt gnawed at McCoy, he should have left his friend sedated but now that the stimulant was in his system he didn't want to introduce yet another sedative.

The doctor watched, still stroking Jim's hair, as Spock knelt by the other side of the bed, and place the fingers of his hand on the psi points of Jim's face. The Vulcan looked up at Bones questioningly, as if asking permission and the doctor nodded his consent. Perhaps Spock would be able to plant calming thoughts into Jim's mind. Unfortunately he did not have the time to do such a thing. It was like the Captain felt the invasion of his mind and pushed Spock out of it and out of the mind meld. That was not impossible for a human to do but so unlikely that Spock had never even considered it a possibility, it was intriguing. But Jim hadn't managed to get rid of him quickly enough to stop him from seeing the bloodbath which was the bridge and the pain of grief and loss which was overwhelming his Captain and his friend. It was enough to cause an ache in the Vulcan so what Jim was experiencing must be truly awful.

"He thinks we're all dead, he thinks that Kahn killed us," Spock informed McCoy who was looking up at him with a look of confusion on his face; he knew that the mind meld should have taken longer than that. "He pushed me out," he said as a way of explanation. "I do not understand how he managed to do so."

"It's Jim Kirk, that's how." McCoy leant in closer to Kirk and began to reassure him that they were in fact still alive. It took a long time and another attempt at a mind meld before Jim shot straight up, gasping for breath, and began clawing at the bandages around his eyes desperate to see his surroundings.

"Captain, you need to calm down and slow your breathing," Spock informed him, battling with one arm while McCoy tried to restrain the other.

"It's ok Jim," McCoy reassured gently, sounding completely different from his usual self. "You're in sickbay; you were just having a nightmare." It took a few moments for him to register what had been said but when he did he stopped struggling.

"B'nes?" he slurred quietly but the hint of hopefulness in his voice was unmistakable.

"That's right kid; it's just Spock and I here."

"Spock?" What was going on? He had been sure that they had been killed. Clumsily he began to grope around with his hands, it was McCoy who caught on to what Jim was trying to do first so he took Jim's hand in his and squeezed it tight and Spock soon followed suit. The doctor had known Jim for long enough to know he needed firm evidence before he believed anything and, since the virus had forced McCoy to bandage up Jim's eyes, touch was the only way Jim would get proof that in fact his doctor and first officer were still alive. Not for the first time Bones felt a tug of guilt for essentially blinding Jim even though he knew that there was no other alternative, one of the main problems with Andorian Shingles was that there was no point in using a dermal regenerator until the virus had completely left the body otherwise the sores would just come back. Regeneration of the eyes was more difficult anyway as more specialised equipment was needed.

"Doctor," Spock called more softly than McCoy though him capable of. Reluctantly he removed his gaze from Jim's face and turned his attention to Spock. "I feel I should return to the bridge. What would you like me to tell the crew, I believe it to be a logical assumption that they will enquire as to the Captain's health?"

"Yes Mr Spock, I believe that is a logical assumption. Tell them he is still not well but is not any worse which means that Jim's immune system is beginning to fight back. But if they want to visit him then they need to ok it with me before they come down."

"As you wish Doctor." Gently the Vulcan removed his Captain's hand away from his own and arranged his fingers into a Vulcan salute even though he knew that his friend could not see he was doing it. "As you humans say, I hope you are feeling better soon Jim." With that he left reluctantly, not really wanting to leave his friend but his duty as Acting Captain was calling on him.

"Spock has left now Jim, it's just me and you here now. Do you want me to put you back under?" At the suggestion of being sedated again Jim shook his head vigorously before groaning in pain. He raised his free hand to tug at his hair and the one which was still holding onto McCoy's larger hand gripped even tighter. The Doctor hated to see his friend in such a state but there was nothing much more he could do other than sedate him; he was already on the highest doses of painkillers he could and he couldn't give him anything stronger because, well, the idiot was allergic.

After a few minutes of McCoy sitting on the side of Jim's bed he noticed Jim was shaking causing a deep frown to furrow his forehead. "Are you alright Jim?" the doctor asked, thoroughly concerned. The Captain opened his mouth to try and reassure Bones but something in him cracked, he had no idea what it was. He just felt so drained, both emotionally and physically, that instead of the words he intended a guttural sob was ripped from him. Then he felt strong arms envelop him and he clasped desperately onto McCoy, unable to prevent the outburst of sobs which followed. Bones held his friend tightly as he began to break. Despite the fact that he was aware that the only reason Jim was letting himself cry like this was because of the fever, in normal circumstances his mind would not let him trust anyone enough to let him cry when anyone could see him, but this felt good. Not that he liked Jim crying, nothing could be further from the truth, but finally being able to be there and comfort his friend, that felt good and it felt right. "Shh, it's alright kid, you're alright. Just let it go, that's it." He felt Jim cling onto him tighter so he held him closer. The tears were beginning to seep through the bandages and in the back of his mind McCoy registered he would have to change them after all of this. The two of them sat there, McCoy holding his friend tightly letting him feel safe for once in his life, and Kirk clung to his friend desperately, enjoying the familiar and comforting scent of his doctor as he buried his face into the crook of McCoy's neck

After some time Jim managed to cry himself to sleep and McCoy held him still, not wanting to let go in case it woke Jim who so desperately needed sleep. But in the end he relinquished his grip as his back began to protest, and laid Jim down gently on the biobed and carefully draped the blanket over his prone form.