A Star Trek Fiction

"Captain Kirk, he's as human as the rest of us, he just receives more crap and punishment then the majority of us. He's daring and defiant but his true loyalty and all of his motives lie in his ship, the USS Enterprise."

Confused

Chapter 4: 'When I'm Gone' 3 Doors Down

Oxygen wheezes and pushes its way into his lungs. His eyes don't respond and remain closed to the outside world. Legs and arms are cold upon the smooth surface, which send chills down his spine. His head is pounding with dehydration and he feels alone.

Lips part to speak, but only a slight whimper escapes.

He feels trapped, insecure, exposed.

Fingers curl into a fist until he begins to feel the strain on his knuckles. At least he's alive. He licks his lips, the tinge of blood noticeably there. He shifts his legs, but they're stiff and heavy.

He moans aloud, hoping to catch someone's attention.

Only silence consumes him. He's alone, absolutely alone.

The panic rush gives him the energy to open his eyes. There's a ceiling above him and large light that is switched off. To his right is curtain, blocking his view of escape. To his left is a figure. The figure is slumped over in exhaustion.

He recognizes the blue figure immediately. It's Bones.

The Doctor is sound asleep, quiet snores breaking the silence in the contained room.

He sighs and sits up with the little energy he has. His head spins, but he manages to stay upright. With a pained grunt he slides his legs off of the examination table and presses his feet against the cold ground. His stomach lurches slightly as he puts his full weight down.

His legs tremble beneath him and he uses the table to support himself. With his stomach in a knot, he slowly inches forward to the countertop with all of his clothes.

One by one he dresses himself.

The clothes make him feel more secure, safe.

After finishing up lacing his boots, he half crawls over to the sink. He turns the handles to the faucet, but no water comes out. His heart aches.

He's tired, thirsty, weak. Water can really help right about now.

He moans his complaint and glances over at the un-stirring Doctor. Bones is still slumped over in his sleep, the Doctor's chest rising and falling rhythmically.

Guilt buries itself deep within his chest. Here he is, complaining about all this crap and there is Bones, putting up with his bullshit. Bones is the real MVP.

He releases a shaky breath and moans.

He has to leave.

He looks towards his escape and glances once more over at Bones. The Doctor's expression is peaceful. Bones' dreams must be a pleasant one. Don't want to ruin that.

He smirks and starts his journey out of sickbay and into the silent hallway. It's empty, all of it, and he wants to know why.

His trek is harsh, obstacles such as broken doors and caved in ceilings are hazardous.

He continues down the hallway despite his twisting gut and pounding head. He has to do it, for his ship.

Spock would be very useful right about now.

He wants Spock now, he needs him. Then again, the robot bastard would just be nagging in his ear about how illogical he's being at this moment.

Biting his lower lip, he trudges on; his steps are heavy, loud. His hands glide across the surface of the crushed walls for support. The constant groaning of the ship's interior frightens him, but not enough to make him turn around and run.

He braves forward, his vision starts to spin. His stomach is in knots. Lungs scream for air. He braves on.

He ignores it all. He can hear the screams, the cries, the pleas for help. He hears it all. It's overbearing. He, the captain, let them all die. It's his fault. He failed them, every once living soul, he failed.

Guilt is digging into his soul. Depression is creepy in, knocking sanity away. Mental stability is crumbling.

He isn't meant to do this alone.

His emotions tell him to turn around, to collapse into Bones' lap and cry. To give in to the daily pressures of life. To forfeit his pride and welcome the Doctor's loving embrace.

He longs it, he needs it.

Tears are slipping as he fights himself. The battle is pointless though, his steps are taking him closer and closer to the Bridge. Maybe there he can find Spock. Spock knows what to do; the Vulcan knows how to fix everything.

He keeps going, pushing away the ghostly cries and focusing on reality. He can't handle it though. It's shaking him to his core. Every time he looks to find the source he realizes it's just his imagination. It's scaring him.

Who knows how much longer he can cling on to reality. He can't even remember what he had been doing right before the Enterprise's crash.

What was he doing?

Memories of the darkened mysterious room flood his mind. Yup, it's still a mystery.

Maybe he'll figure that one out later. He and Bones will have a good laugh about it sometime. Once he can get all this shit figured out.

Yeah that's gonna take some time. Time is something that is never in his favor. Screw Time. It seems to have a mind of its own.

Time is ticking away as he continues his hopeless journey down the corridor. His heart aches but he pursues his mission, his only way out of this mess.

His legs are tiring; they're getting heavier, too heavy for his liking. His breathing is becoming more ragged. Bruised ribs seem to be cracking with each intake.

He has to stop. He doesn't want to but he must.

He's no good to the Enterprise dead.

With an unsettling sigh, he sits down, more like collapses though. Pain begins to disappear in his legs and chest as he leans back against the damaged wall of his ship.

He really blew it this time. He really did.

The ship groans, as if in agreement to his thoughts.

"I'm sorry…" He mutters, drumming the wall rhythmically with his fingertips.

"So sorry." He mumbles in his haze of reality.

He's sweating, hands clammy, vision spinning. Fever, maybe a bit delirious, if he sees any flying pigs he'll know for sure.

His deterioration reminds him of the shortage of time.

He can't stay here too long. The Enterprise needs him. She needs James T. Kirk, Captain of the Starship USS Enterprise. But he wasn't sure if he could be that man anymore. That man let her crash.

His heart rages, but it ceases when his stomach twists. He needs to keep calm. None of this anxiety shit is gonna help him through this.

Anxiety is the last thing he needs right now. He must be in control of his feelings, his emotions. Stability, he needs that. It's something he lacks; then again he lacks plenty of valuable things.

Bones will get on his case about this surely. Something about being stupid and it was very dangerous. And he'll reply with his normal level of sass and sarcasm. Something like it's a part of the job. Bones won't buy it though. The old bastard has grown more stubborn with age. The Doctor's fear of losing control is overbearing sometimes.

Surely if Bones were in his position he would do the same thing?

Highly unlikely.

Even his subconscious can't offer him some reassurance.

Great. Better get going now. Can't waste too much time.

He clenches his teeth and gets to his feet. He leans heavily upon the interior wall and begins his walk to the Bridge. The sooner he gets there the better.

He sighs and presses on.

His feet slap down onto the abomination of a floor. Hands slide across the walls of the Enterprise. Breaths release as a wheeze within the still air. He's exhausted, he should have never have left Bones behind.

Moron.

Oh Bones, hopefully the Doctor is in a forgiving mood. He doesn't know how the erratic Doctor will respond the next time they come into contact. Probably something along the lines of 'You stubborn bastard!', and that's if he's lucky. He'll be receiving hypos for the weeks to come.

He pauses in thought as he sees the elevator to the Bridge. His face lightens.

He made it.

Heavy strides place him inside. He activates it, nothing happens.

"You got to be shitting me." He grumbles and tries again without success.

He lets out a stream of curses that he's not proud of and composes himself. He has to use the stairs. The flipping stairs.

Grinding his teeth he marches out and backtracks to the stairs.

The only thing keeping him upright is determination, stubbornness, and adrenaline. He doesn't realize that he's bleeding, or his breathing is becoming sharper, he's too furious to notice.

He's still muttering under his breath when he reaches the stairs. He opens the door cautiously and glances up. The stairs are somewhat intact, good enough to get to the Bridge and that's all that matters now.

Before he starts, he gazes down the hallway, almost longing for Bones to appear, but the Doctor doesn't.

Scratch that, Bones isn't related to Superman.

With a huff he takes his first stride onto the stairs. He winces as his chest restricts and his ribs burn. He has to get through this.

Can't wussy out now.

Grimacing, he hefts himself up, taking each step carefully. No need to fall and crack his head open. That would be unfortunate.

He grins. He can almost imagine Spock's voice going on about how illogical he was being right now. Even though he'll never admit it, he's proud of his First Officer, wherever he happens to be.

Biting his lip, he continues up, breaths becoming shorter. He'll need a break soon. He can't keep this up much longer.

He's halfway through his twentieth step when his body shudders. He clamps onto the railing, the shivering wracking his body. His vision becomes hazy, stars beginning to dance.

Not now please?

He has to remain conscious. Who knows what a tumble from this height can do to his fragile body.

He wills his eyes open. His stomach is doing somersaults so he leans over the railing and lets out the contents of his stomach.

Much better.

His body shudders.

Psych. Not feeling too good.

Maybe just a little breather.

He settles down, still clinging onto the railing desperately. He wraps his arms around it, it's his only comfort. He presses his forehead onto the bars, the coolness seeping into his skin.

Blue eyes close…just a little rest, that's all…

"Jim!"

The sharp ring gets his attention. How long has it been?

"Jim!"

There it is again. The voice is faint, almost too far away…

"Jim for god's sake where are you?"

The voice is desperate. Maybe he should reply?

He parts his lips, but he only manages to spew out acid and blood over his own lap. Yep, pretty pathetic right now. Maybe the voice can come back another time? Yeah, another time will work best.

"Jim, you have to be around here somewhere…" The voice trails off as it becomes fainter.

He's alone. Completely alone.

"Bones…" He mumbles.

Its Bones damn it! He wants Bones, Bones is good. He wants to call out but he's too tired, too weak, fragile.

He shifts slightly and a sharp pain erupts from his ribs. Not going anywhere anytime soon.

Moans escape his lips. His fever is rising, almost delirious. Maybe the voice was his imagination? That wouldn't surprise him.

Maybe he should just sleep. That would be best right now wouldn't it?

Once agreed with himself, he closes his eyes, sleep pulling him under. He's almost asleep, his last few thoughts swirling around.

Something grabs him; the hands are firm and familiar. They jostle him slightly.

"Bones…?" He slurs, eyes still closed and arms still wrapped around the railing.

"Captain, it is me, Spock. You seem to be running a high fever. You are probably delirious and if I do not get your temperature down, you will surely suffer severe brain damage." The stern voice states.

He just laughs.

"Don't talk to me about brain damage Spock. At least I haven't lost mine." He replies and opens his blue eyes.

Spock is staring back. Dark eyes focus on him, emotionless.

"Spock." He grunts, his upper body swaying.

Spock steadies him.

"Yes Captain?" The Vulcan replies, head tilting slightly.

"I might throw up on you." He states and his head begins to loll.

Hands keep him upright.

"That is a logical analysis Captain." Spock responds, gripping him tightly.

"Where's…Bones…?" He mumbles and the Vulcan's eyebrows rise.

"I do not know. I am fortunate that I have found you. It was only through logical thinking that I have found you. The probability of me finding you here was quite high." Spock explains, but sees him fading.

"Please, come Captain. We must find Doctor McCoy." Spock says and begins to help him up.

He fights it, but he's weak.

"Captain, it is illogical of you to fight me. I am trying to help you." Spock states, still emotionless.

"No, I have to-have to get… to the Bridge Mr. Spock. The Bridge…" He wheezes, still trying to fight Spock's hands. It's pointless, but then again, this whole trip seems pointless.

"Captain, there is no point in trying to get to the Bridge, they would surely capture you at the moment of your arrival. It is critical that we-"

He cuts him off. Spock seems offended slightly.

"Who is 'they'?" He snaps, his glossy red eyes narrowing.

"Klingons. I thought you were aware of their presence, for you were the one who alerted us to their boarding." Spock replies calmly.

His heart beat quickens. His breaths are hitched.

"Klingons Mr. Spock?" He mutters and the Vulcan nods his head.

"Indeed Captain." Spock confirms.

He rubs his hands together, it's an anxiety thing.

Spock notices his discomfort.

"Now Captain, will you please come with me in search of the Doctor?" Spock asks, but he knows he doesn't have a choice.

Reluctantly he nods his head and Spock helps him to his feet. The instant he's upright he throws up and almost collapses. Spock holds onto him, arms wrapped around his tightening chest.

"Captain, it would be most efficient if I carry you." Spock states, getting ready to hoist him off of his feet.

"No way in hell." He mutters and Spock's expression changes.

"Captain, with all due respect, I wasn't asking." Spock replies and then scoops him up like a child.

This is happening way too much lately. He needs to make a policy. 'NO CARRYING YOUR CAPTAIN LIKE A SMALL INFANT, THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES'. The policy seems fair enough. Completely logical.

He wishes to tell Spock, but only whimpers and moans escape.

"I am confident that I can find the Doctor in time, Captain. Before permanent brain damage sets in." Spock informs him.

He snorts. Brain damage ehh? Nothing new there. And did he seriously say 'confident'? He's confident that he can find Bones in time? Great, because confidence solves everything now.

Well at least he has Spock right? Spock will take care of everything…Spock's a good friend.

The Vulcan stares at him briefly before returning his unfaltering gaze to the hallways. He shifts, his ribs aching. Sweat is leaving his body and soaking into Spock's tattered clothing.

His fever is rising, dangerously high.

He's starting to mutter, thrashing slightly in the Vulcan's arms. His moans are becoming more pain filled, accompanied by weak whimpers.

Spock senses his discomfort but can only move faster in search of the Doctor.

He squeezes his eyes shut, Spock is hurting him, it must be Spock. He wasn't hurting this bad until Spock came. Must be Spock's fault then surely?

His breathing quickens, only managing to catch a few wheezes of oxygen to fill his needy lungs. His stomach begins to churn, he can feel it rising, the burning sensation of the foul liquid coming up his throat. He spews it out, all over himself and down Spock's shirt.

He can't breathe, there's puke in his mouth. He gags and he feels himself lowered onto the ground. Burning skin makes contact with the smooth floor. His body is rolled over onto the side and he feels the relief of the puke leaving his mouth and onto his ship's floor.

Someone's gonna have to clean this up later.

Something strokes his hair. It would be comforting if hadn't started sniffling like a two-year old.

Arms bring him upright and he's pulled onto Spock's lap. He's shaking, curling into a ball. The strong arms keep him close, like their afraid to lose him in the darkness,

Spock doesn't know what to do. The Vulcan is hesitant, evaluating the best course of action.

"Captain…Captain can you hear me?" The stern voice questions and the blue eyes peep open.

"Spock-ck." He stammers, the shivers wracking his body.

"The most logical course of action is for me to leave you here and retrieve the Doctor myself. Do you understand?" Spock replies coldly, still emotionless.

He shakes. More sniffling. God it's so unmanly…

"Your-your leaving-ing m-me?" His voice trembles.

He's scared to be alone, left in the dark. He ditched Bones before, but he plans never to do it again. Oh how idiotic and stupid he had been!

"Captain…Jim, if I want to succeed in saving your life, I must retrieve the Doctor. It is of course the most logical course of action here." The Vulcan explains.

He just nods his head. If he speaks now he'll surely cry.

"Alright. I'll return soon with Doctor McCoy. I believe you humans say something like, 'Hang in there', when in dire situations, so I will say it to you now. Hang in there Jim." Spock says, and he starts to break.

His insides feel like they're melting.

"Just co-come back Spock." He responds, gazing pleadingly up at his only hope.

"Will do Captain." Spock replies robotically and places him against the cracked wall.

The Vulcan then walks off without giving further thought to the situation.

His lips begin to quiver; he's holding back the tears, pains, the emotions. He sniffles up the mucus and wraps his arms around himself for comfort. It doesn't work. He's trembling, the fever rising.

He's hearing the screams again. They're louder than before. They shout his name. He can't block them out.

He brings his head between his knees, covering his ears. Blue eyes squeeze shut, ignoring the pain, noise, ache.

He will get through this. He can't bear to be alone much longer. For Spock to leave. He feels too much insecurity, anxieties, pressures, when Spock is gone.

Author's Note: So yeah Spock is here now. I'm not sure of what I thought of this chapter, but it's setting up things for the bigger picture. Poor Jim, only finds things out slowly and that's the point, I only want you guys to know what Jim knows so you see things from his perspective and not McCoy's or Spock's. And I would like to thank yall for having 19 follows! That's my new record by the way :) So thanks for doing that guys I really appreciate it and I hope ya guys enjoy this like I do when writing it. Sometimes I just go on streaks of writing so it just depends. So thanks yall again for being amazing! And leave a review of what you think cos that'll help me satisfy your Jim Whump needs. Peace out. Yall are amazing.