"Spock its time for bed."

The eyes that raised from behind the book were as human as her own. Amanda Greyson smiled and stood, walking over to where her young son sat. Spock set down the book and fixed his mother with a stare that was almost desperately Vulcan. His fingers tightened on the spine of the book, the only show of his desperation to stay up just a bit longer. Amanda glanced at the title of the book. Something scientific, no doubt. But Spock read them with the same determination and adoration that most children read fairy tales.

"Yes, mother," he said finally, his voice cool as he carefully marked the place and stood, exiting the room. Amanda watched him go before she turned to the book and picked it up, a smile on her lips.

Spock walked into his sleeping chambers to find his mother there. He walked over to bed and climbed in, sitting strait and facing her.

"What story do you wish to tell me tonight?" he asked.

"I thought you could tell me one," she replied, a smile on her lips.

"I-I do not understand," Spock looked at her, plainly confused. Amanda opened the science book and pointed at a complex diagram, right on the page he hadn't been able to finish, "what's that?"

"That is a star map of the Virgo system," Spock said, turning his head so he could see the words, "it was discovered by the explorer.."

Spock continued to speak, finishing the chapter and then some before his eyes got heavy with sleep. Amanda tucked him in, carefully marking the place on the book so he wouldn't loose his place. Bending down she pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking to the door.

"Goodnight mother," he said softly.

"Goodnight Spock," she said, affection heavy in her voice.

A slight furrowing of oddly shaped eyebrows was the only indication of a struggle as Spock cast of unconsciousness and returned to the world of the living. Spock opened his eyes to the pristine ceiling of the medical bay. Curtains had been put up around his bed for privacy but he could hear the voices on the other side.

"Stop it! I'm Captain now! You don't have to shoot me up with every vaccine you've got!"

"I already did that back on base," came the reply, "now hold still so I can make sure your ears hear properly. You're shouting."

"I'm what?!"

"You're shouting loud enough to wake everyone up," McCoy told him, "even though they're all probably as deaf as you."

"I saw you inject him with something!"

Spock cringed as the holler assaulted his ears. He reached up and touched his neck, feeling nothing but smooth skin. If the doctor had injected him with something recently he should have felt, at the very least, the puncture marks on his neck. But there were none so either Kirk was more insane than usual.

Or it had been a while.

He eased himself up to see he was not wearing a hospital gown or the uniform he had been in but a pair of scrubs, the kind Dr. McCoy was prone to putting people in when they had to be changed. Unless a medical procedure such as a catheter was required, it allowed more cover and comfort for the patient. Also given that they were on a starship that was prone to being caught in all-hand-on-deck-the-world's-about-to-end-scenarios, adrenaline fueled runs did not turn into peep shows as well. He glanced over to see his uniform folded with precision on the chair, boots just beside it. He had been out for hours, potentially more. Spock remembered being on the transporter pad, feeling the unpleasant sensation of his body converting to energy when Kirk had come into the room shouting something, Uhura hot on his heels. His first though had been to why she was there. His second had been why Kirk was running for him.

Then the Captain had tackled him. The sonic echo must have created a barotrauma, potentially causing sever trauma to the ear. McCoy should have been able to heal that in all of them, he was not concerned. But he had been knocked unconscious and there was a chance McCoy had helped to further that state by injecting him with a sedative. Spock turned to get off the bed and swung his legs around, pushing himself up only to ungracefully grab the bed as his legs buckled. The shouting stopped as footfalls came towards him. Furiously, if his actions could be described as such, he maneuvered himself onto the bed and sat just as the curtain opened.

"You seem to have disabled my legs," Spock said cooly, "I trust there will be no lasting ill effects?"

"Good to see you too," McCoy said sarcastically, "and yeah. I knew you'd be up and running in no time. So I did something to make sure you followed my medical expertise and got some rest."

"Hey Spock!" came the joyous shout. Spock looked over at the grinning Captain and back to the medical officer.

"And your expertise did not see fit to fix that?" he asked.

"Good point," McCoy walked over, "hold still," he said jamming a silver instrument into Kirk's neck. The Captain hit the paper wrapped bed like a ton of bricks, "he'll be up in a couple hours, give his ears time to heal. Scotty took the liberty of making sure Command knew about the incident," Spock waited cooly, "Kirk's pretty sure those scumbags were using artifacts as bait. That they were after Vulcans--after you," McCoy told him, his voice lowered.

"How did the Captain reach such a conclusion?" Spock asked.

"Don't ask me, one moment he was in the bridge and the next I got the call from Scotty who said he and Lieutenant Uhura came running into the transporter room and tackled you and Sulu from the pads."

McCoy watched as a thousand emotions seemed to flick across Spock's eyes, so quickly he could have just as well imagined it. Only he knew he didn't. The Commander was concerned about the Lieutenant. For a moment he considered holding off, making the Vulcan ask about her and show some genuine caring but then he remembered Uhura was unconscious and she should probably be around for such a thing. Her and, in the most vengeful corners of his mind, Kirk.

"She's fine," he said, "Sulu was a bit further along in his transport so they're still unconscious but should be up relatively soon," he said, "besides, you got other things to worry about," Spock looked at him, obviously not comprehending, "the people who want to kidnap you?"

"Clearly they have failed in their ploy and as you have disabled my legs, only an unauthorized entry onto the Enterprise would allow them to complete their task. The likelihood of the circumstances necessary for that to occur are very slim."

"So you're not worried about that?"

"No," came the reply, "it is logical to think that rarities must be preserved. Further more it is in human nature to covet," he looked at McCoy, "Vulcans, like most things that there are few of, have become prized."

"Prized?" McCoy repeated, "prized? You're not some god damn artifact--you're a human being!"

"Half human, Dr. McCoy and all objects, conscious or not, have value. It is merely a question of how much and to whom."

McCoy was pretty sure he was going to snap the stylus he held if the pointy eared half blood kept talking about himself like that. The doctor turned to the unconscious Captain before turning to the others. That was about as far as he got before the doors opened with a hiss.

"Yeah I understand that I need the bandages but I'm an engineer, I can't work like this--Doctor!" McCoy froze at the Scottish accent before turning to face him. Thankfully his scaly green companion was nowhere to be seen. The little alien seemed to have a need to touch everything, "would you get these bloody bandages off? Its a bit hard to be an engineer when my hands are frozen."

"Sure, come here," McCoy said motioning him forward.

"Excuse me Doctor but I fail to see the logic in releasing him from his handicap and keeping me in mine," Spock said cooly.

"You wanna talk logic you green bloodied idiot? Logically all four of you should be dead. You should stay disable--ah ah ah stop it! Why does that hurt so bloody much?!"

"Maybe because you've got a badly sprained finger," McCoy snarled, "bandages stay on."

"But--"

"Get your little green assistant to do it," McCoy said.

"You'd think he listens to me but you'd actually be wrong. Little bugger doesn't listen to anyone, least of all me!"

"Unless you want me to start cutting the fingers off because they're too mangled to stay on your hand, the bandages stay on."

Scotty paled at the prospect an somewhere deep inside Spock felt triumph that he was not the only one stuck in such a wretched position. He glanced over to see Kirk, his features strange in that they were still. Especially his mouth and eyes, both of which seemed to be excessively expressive. His eyes swept around the room. Two more beds were occupied and half-hidden, by shadows rather than curtains. Both had figures laying on their back, though while Spock could see the position being natural for one he knew that Nyota was hardly a still sleeper. Not through personal experience but rather through an overheard conversation between her room mate and another. Apparently Nyota Uhura did, what her room mate had called 'sleep gymnastics', though Spock was sure it was an exaggeration. Still he could not imagine her sitting still, not even in sleep.

Nothing but an artificial mockery of the state.

He had not wanted hurt to get hurt and that was exactly what had happened. He had been relieved to get out of the room, relieved enough not to consider the possibility of a trap. He should have realized the likelihood of such a thing. Early plans to move the Vulcans to the colony and then the colony itself had involved a staggering amount of security. He supposed it was another matter of human nature. Humans knew that the Vulcans could protect themselves, but they were still desperate to help. No matter how assured someone was of another's ability, it was illogical, but predictable, to think that one could do a better job of protecting that person. Egotistical thinking but it was how most of society functioned. She had thought that she could protect him and she had gotten hurt. Hurt because he had desired nothing more than to leave the room and put her out of his troubled thoughts.

And Kirk--

Spock looked over at the unconscious young man. He had become accustom to being prejudged, either because of his heritage or reputation. It was a simple thing and, much like the Vulcans, most people who disliked him did it with a healthy dose of politeness. In fact, since his schooling as a young boy he was not sure he had met anyone who was so blatantly disrespectful and rude. He knew from the moment their eyes had met at the Academy that James T. Kirk hated him. In fact, if not for his 'other self' then Spock was certain the young man would hate him still. What had transpired on the planet he marooned him on, Spock did not know. But whatever it was it had changed Kirk's opinion about him--one of the hims anyway. Perhaps it was the inability to distinguish between the Spock that could have been and himself but he knew that Kirk did not regard him with such loathing anymore. Despite his best intentions he knew it was becoming harder and harder to hate the man as well.

He did not think he was special by Kirk's actions in the transporter room. It could have been Scotty or McCoy or Chekov and he still would have run and tackled them, ignoring all the risks associated with the action--risks that he was more than aware of. He would have done everything to keep them safe. What troubled Spock was that he knew he would do the same thing. Perhaps the rest of them would as well but he knew without a doubt that he and Kirk would do anything to keep the rest of them safe. Probably the other former cadets who had been fortunate enough to escape death that first day would as well. They were becoming closer as a crew, close enough that anyone's death would hurt. He was beginning to think that no matter how far he pushed people away, their deaths would still hurt, just as profoundly as if he kept them close. Logic told him that the sheer number of deaths that occurred so recently was an anomaly. Entire graduating classes, numbering easily over a thousand and six billion souls were not lost on a daily basis or there would hardly be a universe left. But his illogical side, his human side, it told him that all it would take would be one death to be his undoing.

"Alright the others are unconscious, time for you to be too," Spock turned to look at McCoy who was holding a silver instrument.

"I trust when that wears off I'll be able to use my legs," Spock said cooly.

"Yeah yeah, we'll see," McCoy said pressing the instrument to his neck. Spock felt the barest twinge before the world dissolved.

As it turned out, the first of them awake this time was neither Spock nor Kirk but Uhura.

The young woman opened her eyes, surprised to find herself laying on her back. Usually when she woke her limbs were splayed out everywhere, like she was running some crazy space race. Carefully she pushed herself up, pressing a hand to her forehead as it throbbed. She remembered what happened but her ears felt fine. That meant she had been asleep--or unconscious really--for a significant amount of time. Significant enough that McCoy was able to send her ears well on their way to healing. Mentally blessing drugs and modern medicine, Uhura swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The hospital was lit though her bed was in shadows. From the absence of Dr. McCoy she judged that it was the time when some people slept. One of the virtues of being in space was that they were not governed by the sun. Day and night were obscure terms, everything was governed in hours and need. If it was the right time and you were not needed then you slept. Given their actions Uhura had a feeling that McCoy needed some serious sleep.

She glanced over to see Kirk's big feet dangling off the bed. Raising an eyebrow she walked over to see him splayed out as if he had just landed there, or been doped and hauled up. His features looked odd, more in the fact that they were serene rather than expressive. Shaking her head she turned and looked at the curtained bed. Glancing to make sure the other medical staff were occupied, Uhura pushed one of the curtains aside. Dressed in scrubs, like the rest of them were, Spock looked so strange laying there. It was a different kind of strange than Kirk. His features were usually so serene that seeing them with the serenity of sleep should not have been odd. But it was. Uhura had only seen the half Vulcan in a vulnerable state a handful of times.

First when they had been studying an ancient text for class. She had stayed late and he had offered his assistance when she had called the pieces of parchment very horrible things. Heads bent he could smell her perfume and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her hand. She had wanted nothing more than to kiss him but she had been unsure of his feelings, unsure until their eyes locked when they figured out a word. She had been exuberant and he had seemed mildly pleased. Joyously she had hugged him. She knew no matter how long she lived she'd never know how their lips wound up pressed together. The kiss was almost chaste, quick as well. Or it would have been if she hadn't cupped his face and pulled him back down to make the next kiss anything but.

Another was that horrible day in the academy when a male classmate had been flirting with her. Though she had tried to make it clear she had no desire to have anything to do with him, he had been persistent. Unfortunately he happened to be smart and he knew that Spock couldn't just throw him out for no reason. Though she had been frustrated beyond belief, it had been a thousand times worse for Spock who could do nothing about it. Even she could see how hard it was for him to keep his voice cool and his emotions controlled when all he wanted to do was jump the podium and use his 'death grip' on their throat.

The worst though was when he lost his home world and his mother. When he had sat in that chair and given the log for the day, labeling himself a member of an endangered species her own heart had ached for him. The way he seemed to struggle to swallow and then gotten from that chair as if it had electrocuted him--Uhura couldn't help but follow him. When he buried his face in her shoulder she knew it was the closest she had come to seeing genuine emotion in his actions, if not his face. She knew back on Vulcan it would have been considered shameful, even Sarek's features had been serene when the destruction occurred. She knew why, she had taken the history classes required for the cadets. The Vulcans were affected so deeply by their emotions that it was a wonder their race had survived as long as it had--until they started quelling their emotions and using logic as a defense.

Was it logical to push people away? She supposed it was in a way that was rather, well, rather illogical. After all, it would make sense that if someone pushed people away, shut down their heart, then if others got hurt it would not hurt as much. But she knew that was a joke, a lie. The fact was that it hurt to loose people, but what hurt more was if they thought you didn't care when you lost them. She had known going into their fledgling relationship that Spock's emotional development was seriously stunted, or at least his ability to express emotions was stunted. But she had never though that he would react to the loss of all those people, of his mother in such a way. Of course she knew that it hadn't fully reached him, after all once Vulcan had been destroyed they had warped through the universe seeking Nero. He told her he needed everyone to perform admirably and that was exactly what happened, exactly what needed to happen. At the time. Afterwards--even if she had not experienced grief like his she knew there was no sense in it. Not for anyone.

"I told you I doped him. He isn't going to wake up for a bit--I'm the Chief Medical Officer, its my call. If Command has a problem with it you tell them I'm over riding it. If this mission is so damn important they can send another ship--one without a Vulcan on it."

Uhura slipped behind the curtain, knowing she would not make it to her bed in time. Moments later the outlines of Dr. McCoy and Chekov came alongside the screen.

"I was to relay orders," came the heavily accented voice, a note of fear in it, "I can relay those back but Command won't like it."

"You think I give a damn what Command likes? Command almost sent two men to certain death!" Uhura's brow furrowed. She knew Spock and Sulu would have been in trouble if they got on that ship but 'certain death'? That seemed a bit excessive, "Command clearly knew that the Vegas crew was after Spock."

"Why would anyone want him?" came the confused voice, "Dr. McCoy?"

"Hold on," the doctor said. There was a hiss of injection, "wake up Jim."

"Five more minuets mom," came the mumble.

"Though you've got me acting like one, I'm pretty sure yours is back in Iowa," McCoy said.

"Huh?" she heard Kirk mumbled and lift his head up, "what'd you do to my head?"

"You did that all on your own. Give that a minuet, Command wants a word."

"Oh I'll give them a word," she heard the unmistakable anger in his voice as he shoved himself up, "I'll give them the whole fucking alphabet," he snarled as she heard him change before storming out of the room.

She heard the others take off after him, already certain that the last thing Command wanted to hear was James Tiberius Kirk come up with a swear word for every letter of the alphabet, something she was positive he could do. Uhura turned back to the unconscious Vulcan and felt her heart ache.

The crew was after Spock

She felt her fist tighten.

They weren't going to get him.

And the plot thickens! Can Kirk come up with a swear word for every letter of the alphabet? Will Uhura keep Spock out of harm--will he let her keep him out of harm?

All that and more next chapter!

Oh and please review! I adore feedback from you all, especially since I'm new to this fandom. I accept anonymous reviews, signed reviews or you could PM me if you wanna keep off the radar.

Thanks for reading.

Review and I'll see you next time!