Title: Post Amok
Characters: Kirk, Spock, McCoy, original character
Rating: K+
Word Count: 1243
Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers for Amok Time
Summary: Amok Time after the credits, non-slash. No pairings.
Author's Note: Truly only intended as a friendship fic; but I wrote this chapter when I was severely hypoglycemic and off my head, and it took a slightly cuddly turn….
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Elena followed Captain Kirk into the Vulcan's quarters, and her step faltered momentarily as the warm air and reddish glow of the alien environment brushed against her face. Vaguely noting the light trace of incense that lingered in the room, the woman's attention was swiftly drawn away from her surroundings by the unmistakable sounds of the commander emptying his stomach in the bathroom beyond. At her side, amber eyes narrowed in concerned empathy, and Kirk brushed past her towards the sound, instantly transforming from their brash and confident captain to an anxious and frightened friend. Before the bathroom doors closed on the girl, she saw Kirk kneeling beside the Vulcan, his face bent close to the pale, celadon one, murmuring low, urgent words she could not hear. The door slid shut, and the voices beyond faded.
In the stillness of the empty room, Elena leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, knowing she would need a calm in her mind before meeting the turmoil of his. But the woman was unable to focus, struggling unsuccessfully to think of tranquil, peaceful thoughts, while knowing in the room beyond, one CO was losing his life, and the other was losing his soul.
After a moment, the door flew open and the First Officer stumbled into the room, half supported by the captain. Kirk led his XO to the partitioned sleeping quarters and gently settled him on the edge of the bed. The Vulcan's face was paler than before, his chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow breaths as he fought waves of anguish. Standing next to Dr. McCoy, Elena observed her two commanding officers nervously. Every line of pain on Spock's face was mirrored in the captain's, and she wondered briefly how many mind-melds they had shared, to be that symbiotic.1
Kirk moved to sit on the bunk beside the Vulcan. "Spock," he began, desperation apparent in his voice. They had not fought the planet Vulcan, and Starfleet Command, and each other, two weeks ago, to lose Spock now in this manner. He waited a moment, but received no answer, the commander's head hanging limply, his chin resting against his chest. "Spock!"
At the urgency in Jim's voice, the Vulcan dragged hooded eyes up with effort to meet the captain's gaze, and a pale, thin hand shot out reflexively, shielding dark eyes from the well-lit room. Kirk cursed under his breath. "Lights, forty percent." Reaching for the black throw at the foot of the bed, he wrapped the blanket around the quivering form and bent to search for his friend's eyes, his voice lowered gently.
"Spock, Lt. Ramsey grew up on Vulcan. She says when your link with T'Pring was abruptly severed, you required attention from the Vulcan healers to repair the damage to your mind, but we whisked you away to complete that cursed Altair mission instead." Kirk's shoulders drooped dejectedly. "I'm sorry, Spock," he whispered. "I should have realized…." He stopped and cleared his throat from the tight pressure forming there. Alien eyes refused to look at him, and he continued. "And now you have an empty void that needs to be filled to level the pressure changes in your mind." His voice grew stronger as he took on the familiar leadership role, on more sure ground now that a solution was being offered. "Spock, Lt. Ramsey is willing to help you with this."
Dark eyes shot up in spite of the pain to meet Kirk's gaze, and Elena watched the current flickering between the two, wondering what was being said in that unspoken exchange.
"Spock…" Kirk's head bent towards his XO, and his voice trembled slightly, oblivious to the presence of the others in the room. "I need you. The Enterprise needs you!" The captain continued in the characteristically passionate voice they had all heard on the bridge many times before, during tense negotiations and space battles. "You must do something – let her meld with you."
Elena, moving quickly from Dr. McCoy's side to kneel before the Vulcan and compel his focus, looked up at the weary face of the Science Officer. "Sir, let me help you."
The coffee-colored eyes had not yet left his captain's face, and Kirk waited, unmoved, knowing the Vulcan could not refuse him for long. As another sharp pain darted through his head, Spock swayed dizzily and surrendered, turning to the astrophysicist. "Do you truly understand what you are suggesting, lieutenant?" he rasped, and the girl nodded.
"I'm familiar with your culture, sir," Elena replied. With a nod from the captain, she reached out to take one thin, cold hand and guide it to her face, waiting as the fingertips searched for the best possible points of contact. The woman closed her eyes in an effort to block out her anxieties and allow the easiest access to her mind.
"Nahp, hif-bi tu throks."2 The words were whispered low, and Kirk watched in fascination as the commander's visage began to echo the unfamiliar emotions of the human before him.
The joining was brief, the lieutenant's acceptance of the Vulcan's mental intrusion lessening the meld's difficulty, but to McCoy, who opposed these things in general, and to Kirk, who understood the dangerous lowering of mental shields, the wait in the still room seemed to last interminably. Finally, as both pairs of lips moved simultaneously, murmuring alien words that neither man understood, the meld was broken, and the girl staggered back, rocking on her heels to gaze about the room in confusion.
"Lieutenant… Spock." The surgeon hurried to the girl's side, then turned to the Vulcan, where Kirk was already bending low. Spock swayed again, and Jim helped him recline on the bed while McCoy ran his tricorder over the resting frame.
"Jim, I don't believe it! His blood pressure's back to normal; his heart rate's in the 200's…" McCoy turned to the woman, his blue eyes widened. "Whatever you did, young lady, it seems to have worked."
Elena rose unsteadily to her feet. "He should be fine after he rests." She looked at the captain. "With your permission, sir, I would like to go to my quarters now."
"Uh, yes, yes," Kirk answered distractedly, not turning from his protective watch over the sleeping Vulcan. Without another word, the woman slipped wearily from the room.
Seeing that Spock was already asleep, McCoy tugged on Kirk's sleeve and nodded towards the door. "Come on, Jim. You could use a nap, too. You look a mess."
Half grinning, Kirk nodded in agreement and started for the door.
"Well," McCoy sighed, following him into the corridor, "it wasn't the best wedding I've ever been to, but it'll do." He smirked, the blue eyes twinkling at his friend. "Funny, though, I never fancied our Science Officer as the marrying type." His smile widened, anticipating future digs at the Vulcan's expense.
"What?" Jim's head jerked up as they walked down the corridor, and he paused, looking back at the Vulcan's door. Frowning, he turned at his own cabin entrance. "Thanks for your help, Bones," he said quietly, and slid past the closing door before the doctor could reply.
A/N: I promise...Lt. Ramsey is not even in the next chapter. But Kirk is. And he's pouting. *squee*
1 It is common fanon that Kirk and Spock shared some type of mental link, but I'm not sure how far into the 5 year mission it was established. During The Apple, when Spock arches his burnt back during McCoy's exam, Kirk reflexively reacts at the same moment. Makes me wonder…
2 Your thoughts, give them to me.