Hello! Glad to see you still here and reading-we're down to the two resolution chapters! There's still a little angst to be had (sorry, Jim, it's got to happen), now pulling in some Spock and Bones action.
There's a lot of medical stuff that happens here. I'm no doctor, just writing from general experiences I've seen/had/read about. With a little of my own invention thrown in, I suppose. So, sorry if the medical aspect is not quite right.
General warnings apply; just some light swearing (because Bones is here now).
Enjoy!
"He's damn stubborn, that's a fact," Bones said, running a hand through his hair as he paced. "Surprised he even made it out of the warp core with the level of radiation poisoning and his broken ribs."
"You will be able to heal his injuries?" Spock asked.
Bones glanced over at the biobed, where Jim lay, motionless and pale. Newly revived, he still looked like death frozen over. Which, technically, he was.
"I'll do my best," the doctor said apprehensively. "He's got a lot of internal damage from those ribs, not helped by that stunt in the warp core. He's gonna be in a hell of a lot of pain if he wakes up anytime soon." He kept his gaze fixed on Jim a bit longer, then sat heavily in a chair, face buried in his hands. "Dammit."
Spock shifted uncomfortably, gaze flicking once over Jim's vitals before settling on Bones. "Doctor?"
Bones released a shaky sigh, collecting himself before raising his head. "It's been quite a night, hasn't it?" he asked. Spock noted clinically the shadows that were already forming under the doctor's eyes.
"Indeed," the Vulcan said, "it has."
Another kick caught Spock in the legs, and he was thrown to his back. Before he could catch his breath, Khan pressed a knee to his chest and grasped him around the head. The wind shrieked around them; Khan moved closer as he spoke.
"What was it like, Mr. Spock, to watch your Captain suffer?" Khan sneered as he increased pressure on Spock's temples. "What was it like, watching him snap? Watching him be slowly crushed by the weight of his own frailty while you stood by and could do nothing?"
Khan didn't know the full meaning of his own words; the wound was ripped afresh inside of Spock, more painful by far than the crackling force on his head. Khan didn't know, couldn't know, the sight of too-thin glass and the angry radiation burns and the tears in ice-blue eyes.
In a moment of pure, unadulterated rage, Spock pressed his fingers to Khan's face.
He would show him.
One by one he let the memories overtake him, and the pain consumed him. He felt it: everything that was supposed to be kept under lock and key, everything a Vulcan was supposed to disregard. He felt the shock of revelation. The anger, wanting to break that glass door with a single blow but knowing he couldn't. The absolute, total despair as Jim Kirk's hand fell and his eyes lost their glow.
Khan's screams mirrored those that had been constantly reverberating through Spock's consciousness.
"Doctor McCoy?"
Bones lifted his head. He and Spock had been motionless in their seats for hours, not speaking; the too-slow beep of Jim's heart monitor had conveyed every word they might have exchanged.
"Miss Chapel," Bones said. His voice was rough from stress, disuse, grief—perhaps all three. He tried to focus on the nurse, but his vision was strangely blurry. "What is it?"
"It's Mr. Harrison—"
"Khan," both Spock and Bones said automatically.
Nurse Chapel paused momentarily, her focus innately pulled toward the seemingly-lifeless form of the Captain. She regained her composure impressively fast. "Yes. He is still heavily sedated, but we have treated him."
"Freeze him," Bones said.
The nurse blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I want that son of a bitch back in a cryotube now, got it?" Bones ran a hand over his mouth. "With all due respect, I don't give a damn about regulations or protocol right now. I want him in a sleep so deep he'll see the devil himself. We'll deal with him later."
Nurse Chapel hesitated again, shifting her weight uncomfortably. "Sir, would you at least like to make a final check? Oversee his injuries and the work that we've done?"
Bones' reply was quick. "What were his injuries?"
The nurse glanced down at her PADD. "Well, there were numerous bruises and minor lacerations across the board. In addition, we found signs of a possible concussion. The most prominent injuries were a fractured cheekbone, cracked jaw, and three severely cracked ribs."
Bones stared ahead, emotionless. "He'll be fine."
Another moment of silence, hesitation. Then, with a quick nod, Nurse Chapel exited.
After another stretch of nothing but the heart monitor, Bones looked up at Spock and raised an eyebrow.
"Hell hath no fury like a Vulcan scorned, eh?"
Spock remained impassive. "I am not familiar with the expression."
Bones simply snorted in response.
Two days later, Spock was roused from his meditation by the shrill scream of a machine.
He was instantly alert and on his feet. The machine beside Jim's bed was erratic, and Jim—Jim himself was seizing violently, sweat pouring from his face. Gripped with an unfamiliar terror, Spock scanned the room. Bones was absent, perhaps finally taking a moment to himself after two days of constant supervision. No doubt he would be back in seconds after hearing the alarms.
Still, Spock moved closer to Jim's bedside, full-scale alarm edging out his more precise thoughts. As much as he'd studied the theory of human biology, nothing had prepared him for this. As Jim thrashed once, Spock placed a hand on his blistered wrist, what he hoped would be a small gesture of comfort, at the very least.
Jim's eyes flew open.
They were bright, fevered, bloodshot: as they'd been in the radiation chamber, but worse. They held no comprehension of the world, just sheer panic.
"Jim," Spock tried, though he knew it would be no use. "Jim, you're—"
At that moment, the doors of the ward opened and Bones charged in, looking half-dead himself but with a fire behind his eyes. "Away!" he shouted at Spock, and his voice cracked dangerously. Spock moved aside to let the doctor work, driven to the sidelines as three more nurses barged into the room.
"Get me a hypo—knew this would happen, dammit, Jim—he's rejecting it—get me that hypo—"
Bones' commands became more and more shrill with the increasing screams of the machine. The nurses were quiet, only speaking when they needed to, while Bones would certainly be hoarse the next morning. Spock realized, then, that this was Bones' war. This was his line of command, his fight, and there was nothing that could stand in his way.
"Got to—Jesus, get him on his side, don't want him to choke—"
Spock studied a spot on the floor as the sounds of Jim expelling the contents of his stomach echoed through the din. The beeping of the machine was incessant, erratic.
Please.
The word repeated itself in Spock's mind, a mantra, though he did not know who he was praying to. To Bones? To Jim? To an entity far beyond either of them?
And gradually, gradually, the machine slipped back to normal, the sound registering in the fringes of Spock's awareness.
"Spock?"
The Vulcan turned to Bones, who was now sweating profusely—though not as much as Jim—and wringing his hands on a towel.
"I asked if you were okay."
Spock swallowed, willing his face to be impassive. "That is a matter of perspective, Doctor."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow with a grunt. Running a hand through his disheveled hair, he watched as the last nurse exited. Then he nodded at the now-motionless Captain. "He just had to wait to do that until the one time I'm gone, didn't he?" He attempted a low chuckle, but his face was lined and worn, and the sound came out weak. "Wasn't gonna let him go on us that easy."
"I do not take your meaning," Spock said.
Bones gave him a long look, studying him. "He's not out of the woods yet," he said finally. "As expected, he's not taking to the transfusion too well. That, and his body's still trying to expel the radiation…" He looked back at Jim, who was now even paler than before and glistening with sweat. "We've upped his drugs. Best to keep him under for a good long while, to avoid this kind of thing." He moved to the bed and adjusted Jim's blankets fondly. "I don't think my old heart could take any more."
Spock kept his eyes on Jim as Bones finished cleaning up. There was a part of him, a growing part, that wondered what a mind-meld with the Captain would bring. The curiosity was hard to ignore. What did one think about, or dream about, in a state like this? What was going on behind those bloodshot eyes?
The answer, he finally realized, was not one he would like to discover.
"Well, it seems like he's fairly stable for the moment," Bones said. He looked aged. "I left all of my things back there when the alarm went off—plus a bowl of soup that's probably damn cold by now. First thing I've tried to eat since…and look what happened." He shook his head. "I'll only be a few minutes. Stay awake and make sure nothing goes haywire, alright?"
"I am sure I can manage," Spock said wryly, with a tip of the head.
Bones nodded, a sigh shuddering through his frame, then exited the room.
No, Spock decided, he would not sleep again.
As always, thank you SO much for the continuous support. The last chapter will be up this Sunday! I'm just finishing it up (these chapters have been a lot more difficult because I find it harder to write Spock/Bones), but I'm still open to what you guys want to see in it! Jim will still be asleep, and there's going to be some more Spock/Bones, but there's one section I still need to write. I'm thinking Scotty should come? Or perhaps something else?
Whatever happens, thanks for all of the feedback. I have loved writing it and I can't wait to start the new project.
Till next time,
-Penn
