Here we go peeps, sorry about the wait. More anonymous replies...

six23- Hey, no fair. You broke my code. Not. If I say it I mean it :P That said, I can't give you much credit aside from a loss of 'cheesy word capitalization and ellipses.' No offense, I'm merely rather proud of it, ha ha. Although I like ellipses. They will keep popping up. Nowhere near Warrior level...but still. See, there's some now! However, I am glad to have blown you away. I shall continue to make that a point.

ShatFat- As difficult as the subject may be that's really no excuse. Glad you are still enjoying, as for the chapter title being ','. Click on the drop down, and you'll see that it all makes a sentence. So, yes, it was supposed to. Currently the sentence reads as 'Understanding what you mean to the crew,'...and it was supposed to be another 'to' here, but due to the fact is a dweeb and won't let me have duplicate chapter titles (the nerve, I should be able to do that if I want to) it will continue from there. I'm considering changing one of the titles to another ','... doesn't read as well as I hoped.
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Jim reached to the side, his hand gripping the small Spock's shoulder as he pulled him back behind him, making sure he was between it and him before letting go, his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs. His eyes ghosted over the mutilated body, the neck twisted at a grotesque angle. A flash of dread and quiet horror swept over him, the sight of his dead body something that he knew would definitely haunt him in the years to come.

A hand clenched in the gold of his uniform shirt, and he backed up a step farther, standing in front of the young Spock as that thing took a step forward. Jim felt a slight rush of fear as it smiled, and he was once again reminded of just how wrong that looked on Spock's face. It wasn't even the fact that it was a smile; it was just what it seemed to mean. The way his eyes narrowed, the white teeth that were revealed, the feeling of menace radiating from him all led to having all the hairs on Jim's neck stand up on end.

But then he noticed something else, something that made his eyes widen. His eyes locked on the fingers of its right hand, or rather, what was missing from it. The index finger on that hand was now nothing more than a blood-encrusted stump.

Jim locked eyes with it, the blue widening, and he reached back, gripping Spock's shoulder. The half-Vulcan was as tense as a bow string, and Jim was tempted to turn around and talk to him for a moment, but the thing staring at them made him unable. He didn't want to turn his back to it. He had already felt what it could do. But it noticed the way his eyes flicked back to look at Spock for a moment after noticing the stump.

"Didn't know your little First Officer had it in him, did you, Kirk? Does it disgust you?"

"Actually, no. I was about to tell him how proud of him I was. I always knew that mouth of his was dangerous," Jim stated coolly, having felt how much tenser Spock had gotten at that.

The smile on its face dimmed slightly, and it shrugged. "Didn't expect for you to give in that easily. You've yet to discover just how unnatural your little First is. When you do…I'm looking forward to it." The tone of his voice held pure amusement, and Jim tensed, glaring into that face.

"I don't care what he is, he's my First Officer, and I'm not leaving him here with you."

"We'll see…" it sang out, and then launched itself forward.

Jim hadn't been expecting it, but Spock shoved him forward, Vulcan strength doubling him over, and it sailed directly over the top of them, rolling and spinning around to face them. But it was already too late; Spock had grabbed Jim's sleeve and the two of them were mid-run to the lift. Spock hit the button hard, Jim found himself beyond gratified when the lift doors opened to another memory.

Jim stared into the face of more bigotry, even as they ran, unaware if or when the thing would pop up. Jim was both annoyed, and thankful that they weren't given enough time to fully examine the memories. On one hand, he was dreadfully curious, but on the other, the feelings and emotions attached to them were hard to handle. Especially the gaping loss of feelings that most of them turned into.

He ran through memory after memory, the little Spock always one step in front of him, making sure that Jim knew where to go. Finally, Spock began leading him to what he thought was the way out, and relief flooded his system.

A form rose up from the ground, solidifying itself in front of that door, its arms launching out to either side, blocking the way. That Spock's face was locked into a snarl, its hair dishelved in a way that Spock would never allow. The strange length of its arms and the slow sharpening of teeth made Jim slow, Spock once again behind him.

The jaw lengthened, jutting out slightly, teeth growing almost too big to hold in that mouth, hands turning into claw like talons that punctured holes in the metal. "Not yet." It was still using Spock's voice, and the effect of it all sent a shiver down Jim's spine. "We haven't even gotten started yet…"

"Yeah, well I think I'd rather we didn't start. I have no interest in whatever you're planning. Let us through."

The laugh this time was worse, and Jim felt Spock clutch at his shirt again, he automatically lifted him up, turning the side of his body without Spock towards that thing. "Leave him alone."

Another laugh. "You say that as though I want the boy. He's simply a means to an end."

The way he spoke of him like that made Jim's blood boil. Here was another who didn't consider his First a person, here was another who was prepared to try and walk all over him, another who was prepared to use him and discard him. He glared, nostrils flaring slightly, teeth gritting. He didn't know what he was going to do, but he was going to do something.

It wouldn't know what hit…hmm….

Jim tapped his First Officer on his back lightly, keeping his eyes locked on that thing as it began closing the distance between them. A twisted smile was on its face as with each step the screech of metal echoed as the walls were sliced open like butter. Spock gripped at Jim's neck with one arm, the other behind them both.

Jim envisioned what he wanted with all his heart.

It continued walking towards them, eyes turning red, pupils elongating into slits, its every step calculated, calm, challenging. Soft giggling laughter trickled out of its mouth, the walls closing in behind them. There was no escape. The only way was forward. It moved forward closer, and Jim could smell its breath, rank, foul…

It took another step, when the arm around Jim's neck joined the other behind Jim's back, and brought a baseball bat to bear. Before the thing had a chance to register what it was seeing, Spock had swung with all his might, slamming into that head and making it crumble to the side. Jim hurriedly began to head for the door, jumping over the thing and running as fast as he could.

Next moment something grabbed his ankle and he sprawled forward, Spock once again tumbling forward. Only this time, when Spock's eyes opened there was no fear in his eyes. Jim looked back and his eyes met something he was sure hailed directly from his nightmares. A long pale arm was gripping his ankle, and it led back to an equally pale creature, long jagged teeth filling a gaping mouth, eyes flaming. Its head was partially crushed, and Jim felt his heart leap into his throat. The arm was retracting, dragging Jim along with it.

Before either of them could blink, Spock had stood up and walked forward, making direct eye contact with the thing, before stomping his foot down on that arm with all of his weight and force. There was an echoing crack, and the thing let go, a wail of agony echoing in the silence. Spock hurriedly helped Jim up, and the two of them ran through the door, into the blackness of the space between barriers.

The two of them doubled over, panting for breath, Jim only just realizing that his ankle was in agony now that the adrenaline was wearing out. He tested his weight on it, and let out a gasp, hurriedly picking it up so he could sit down, looking at his foot. Jim gave a soft curse, thankful that he could imagine the boot gone so he could see what the problem was. The boot and sock vanished, and he nearly groaned at the sight of the livid purple bruising that ringed it. But that wasn't the only thing that got him; it had been popped out of joint.

Spock crouched next to him, eyes running over that ankle before looking up at Jim. "I can reset it, but it will hurt."

"Just…just get it over with." He closed his eyes, and bit into a leather strap he had called up hard. He felt two warm hands position themselves, and waited, every muscle tensing.

"Three…two…one."

The feeling of it made Jim scream into the strap, muffling his voice, the small Vulcan looking up at him worriedly. A moment later amidst panting breaths, Jim removed the strap, admiring the new bite marks in it. "Thank…you…" he gasped out, tenderly putting weight on his ankle. When it held he carefully stood up. There was no time for anything else. He was sure that when they got out of this place McCoy would be able to fix everything. There was no 'if' they got out. There was only 'when', Jim refused to let it be any other way.

He took a breath and carefully hobbled around, before imagining his boot back, adding extra support for his ankle to keep it stable. Jim ran in place for a few steps, his ankle throbbing slightly, but there was no flash of pain that would be crippling. It was good enough for him.

Spock looked up at him, and his eyes held something in their depths that made Jim wary. He still crouched down next to him, locking eyes with the small boy. "Do you know what that thing was?"

"Negative, but I do not believe that was its true form."

"Why?" In his head, Jim groaned. Of course it wasn't its true form. That would just be too easy, wouldn't it?

"Several reasons, the fact that I would have seen it should it have approached me in the first place being one. The fact that it is able to shift forms at will, apparently, the fact that it seems more interested in causing fear and chaos than our deaths, at least…at the moment. However, I may be wrong. It is possible that it is a previously unknown species of shape shifter."

"Lovely."

Spock raised his eyebrow, and Jim felt a smile creep up his face at that reaction. He had missed it.

They turned to look at the next barrier as one, and Jim took a deep breath. He somehow knew that they would have quite a bit to go.

McCoy was in the middle of an argument with Sulu, eyes narrowed. The rest of them were regarding the two of them in amusement.

"Fencing is not a lame sport. It's physically challenging, mentally stimulating, and counts as a good form of exercise."

"Yet you all look like a bunch of pansies wavin' those swords around."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous about my sword."

The rest gave him wide-eyed stares before bursting out laughing, McCoy puffed himself up. "I ain't jealous of nothin'. Got no reason to be anyway, with what you're packin'."

Sulu glared at him, their laughter echoing, and opened his mouth before Uhura interrupted him.

"Boys, boys, put them away, you can discuss it later. Or…never. Honestly, what are you all, teenagers?"

"It's not my fault that this ship is filled with what basically amounts to college students. It's like a permanent frat party."

"Does this mean I get a paddle?" Nyota asked, eyebrow raised.

They laughed again, finding comfort in the silliness of the conversation, trying to find a way to put off facing the reality of the situation just a bit longer. They knew that it would just be harder when it wound up staring them in the face again, but for now they lost themselves in the pleasure of another's company. But inside each and every one of them, a kernel of fear and dread still remained. Their situation was not something they could walk away from easily. The two still forms on the biobeds next to them attested to that.

In fact, as though to wave that fact in their faces, the biobeds went off again. Every drop of humor that they had gained or retained evaporated. McCoy told them all to back off, and they hurriedly did so, moving to a spot where they could watch without getting in his way. His nurses immediately moved to his aid, Scotty watching quietly from his spot in the biobed next to them.

McCoy was barking orders, each of them immediately followed out, his nurses working with him in tandem. The medical jargon he was spouting was incomprehensible even to Uhura, but they could tell by the increasingly shrill warnings that it was not going well.

McCoy's voice was thick with his drawl, the words running together almost, but the nurses were so accustomed to their doctor that there was no hesitation. They handed off everything he needed, quietly following his every order.

Nothing helped.

Finally, the warnings ceased on their own, and they backed off slightly. McCoy was breathing hard, anxiety creasing his brow. He was getting beyond tired of not being able to help them. He was so tired of it.

The nurses spent a few quiet moments, each of them looking the two over, tubes and wires checked and rechecked, blankets straightened, foreheads mopped free of sweat. Then they trickled out, leaving a glaring McCoy, and a worried crew. Scotty levered himself out of bed weakly, the aches in his bones and newly healed skin protesting. He pressed a hand to McCoy's shoulder, patting it twice and looking around. Anything to avoid looking at the two of them, anything to try and make Leonard feel less useless.

McCoy didn't respond, his eyes locked onto Jim's ankle. He glared at it, cocking his head to the side and crouching lower. They had been stripped of their uniforms earlier, traded for hospital grade gowns. But that wasn't what McCoy was paying attention to. At the moment his eyes were on Jim's ankle.

He moved the sheet up gingerly, revealing a yellow sock covering that foot, small treads running along the bottom of it. But that wasn't what he was looking at. He was instead staring in mild shock at Jim's ankle which had been popped out of joint.

Scotty looked at that in worry, slowly and gingerly lowering himself down so he could see too. Nyota and the boys moved in as well.

"How the hell did that happen?"

McCoy narrowed his eyes at it, examining the livid purple bruising, running along what looked like finger marks. "Something got a hold of him…"

He moved his hands forward, only to hesitate slightly. Next moment something or someone popped the joint back into place. They stared.

"Holy…"

McCoy didn't bother commenting on it, merely examined it closely with narrowed eyes, finally nodding his approval. "Good work Spock…"

"What the hell was that, Doctor?"

"That was originally whatever sick bastard is in Spock's mind tormenting them, and the one who set it was Spock."

"That's…"

"One of the weirdest things you've ever heard?"

"I was going for 'insane', but that gets the job done."

"How closely connected are their minds to their physical bodies?" Nyota asked softly, her eyes narrowed in consideration.

"From what I can tell anything that happens in their minds is outwardly reflected on their bodies. The reason they haven't been placed through the usual stretches is due to the fact that their muscles are in a constant state of tension. Naturally they can't be dragged around by whatever the hell it is that hurts them, but cuts, bruises, and apparently dislocated ankles all affect their physical bodies. So does vomiting I think…"

"Does…does that mean that they can feel what happens to their physical bodies?"

"You mean if we touch one of them will they be able to feel it?"

"Yeah, or…maybe even if we talk to them would they be able to hear it?"

McCoy was silent for a moment, eyes trailing back and forth from the two lying on the bed. "Even if it does, I don't think that Spock will let it reach Jim. Or, possibly let it reach himself. It would be something that would potentially distract them. That distraction could prove deadly. I honestly hope that they can't. Leaves them with less things that could potentially be the death of them."

"In that case, I hope you're right, for both their sakes."