AN: Thank you to all the lovely people who have been reading and/or reviewing. You are wonderful, and there certainly is (might I remind you) a completely positive correlation between number of reviews and update speed.

/AN

In Which It Is Not The Pillow's Fault

When he came to the first thing he noticed was that something was digging into his back. It was very uncomfortable, and he was probably going to have a bruise. He tried to move but his arms felt heavy, and that's when his brain finally realized that something must have gone very, very wrong.

His ears switched back online, and he was treated to some very familiar ranting. He logged it as being inconsequential and put all his concentration into giving his rescuers some indication that he was now conscious.

"Mmmmrpgh."

The ranting paused and a cold hand was placed on his forehead for a second and then quickly removed. He forced his eyes open.

He was on the transporter pad. Spock and McCoy were kneeling on either side of him. He took in a blessedly easy breath of air (despite the fact that his throat was killing him) and raised his eyebrows at his rescuers.

"Goddammit Jim, what set you off this time?" McCoy's face was lined with worry.

Another breath, and he managed to find his voice. "The pillow?"

McCoy huffed. "Pillow? Seriously, kid?" The doctor rolled his eyes. "Spock, go back to the planet and grab the pillow and get it beamed back to the ship. I'll need to analyze it. Find a bag to seal it up in, or something. Wouldn't want it to set this one off again. And you, Mr. Anaphylactic Shock, are coming back to medbay with me. C'mere, let's get you up." He grabbed Kirk around his bicep and tried to lever him to his feet. Kirk did his best, but he still wasn't much help. He was leaning heavily on the doctor by the time he was on his feet. McCoy reached for his comm, presumably to speak to someone in medbay.

"No, wait!" His voice was raspy, and he really didn't want to be talking right now. The doctor raised an eyebrow at Kirk. "I can't just disappear. I'm the only one who speaks the language."

"Uh uh." McCoy shook his head. "You can send them your regrets through video. I'm not letting you go back to that alien planet with an unidentified allergen on the loose. This may surprise you, but I don't keep a stash of epipens on my person at all times. Oh, look what hitched a ride." His tone had changed from caustic to whimsical in record time. McCoy reached down, and when he straightened up he sarcastically waved Kirk's comm at him. "This must have been comfortable to lay on." McCoy casually clipped the comm to Kirk's belt loop, then commenced dragging him off the transporter pad.

Kirk tried to protest some more, but what could he really do when he had to lean on his kidnapper just to stay on his feet? In no time at all he found himself ensconced in a biobed in medbay.

XXXXXX

The aliens were confused, and Kirk couldn't blame them. His knowledge of the language was severely lacking in biological and medical terms, and trying to explain through charades that a pillow had closed his airways was not going well.

He was still in medbay. McCoy was refusing to let him leave, so he had a portable camera and screen set up on his bed.

In the end, he settled for saying that there was something in the room that had hurt him, and that he would come back down when they'd figured out what it was.

One of the aliens asked how he could be injured and not know what had caused it. He signed it in such a way that he implied that Kirk thought he'd been a victim of witchcraft (or something equally ephemeral). Strike one for convincing the aliens that Humans are reasonable and people-like.

They also wanted to know how he'd gotten back to the ship without taking the shuttle. This time, Kirk used the language barrier to his advantage and said something garbled about emergency transportation.

After that exasperating endeavor, he comm'd Spock to ask how everything was going down on the planet. Frustratingly, the commander seemed more focused on the pillow that had almost claimed the captain's life.

"It was not, in fact, the pillow which you had the reaction to. It was the dried leaves of a plant. The natives find the scent to be pleasing, and it is customary to include a few sprigs when linens are in storage for an extended period of time. Fortuitously, the plant is not in season currently, so it should not be too difficult to avoid contact. I would recommend, however, that we move what discussions we can either to the Enterprise or to video communications. I would not want this to happen a second time."

Kirk laughed slightly. "Don't worry, neither do I." There was a beat of silence on the other end. "There's something else, isn't there."

"Yes." Spock said reluctantly. "It is my belief that you almost died."

"Yeah." Kirk agreed somberly. "But this sort of thing isn't uncommon, with me." He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard Spock sigh.

"I am being unclear. It is my belief that you would have died." Kirk blinked at his comm.

"Yes, I would have died if you hadn't gotten to me. That was you, right?" The silence stretched. Kirk was starting to become worried.

"Captain, I am having trouble phrasing what I wish to say correctly. I think that you would have died in spite of my intervention, because my intervention would have come too late."

"Um. What?" Kirk really wished that he could see Spock's face.

"You attempted to contact me, correct? However, I had set my comm to 'silent,' as had Lts. Sharma and Uhura, so as to not interrupt the meeting. The only indication my comm gave to your attempts to call me was a blinking light. It is highly doubtful I would have noticed if I had not been conversing with Lt. Uhura at that time. It was she who directed my attention towards my comm."

Kirk processed this. Ok, he'd been an idiot and almost died because he'd forgotten that Spock's comm was on silent. But…, "How does this translate into my death being inevitable?"

"I was too late, Captain. Or, I would have been. I cannot say this with absolute certainty as perhaps my impressions were altered due to the adrenalin in my system, but I think this is true: time froze."

"And…here, you're not using it as a figure of speech, are you?" Kirk asked reluctantly.

"Correct. Lt. Uhura has told me that she did not actually see me exit my room. I was simply gone. Also, she did not hear me call your name or knock on your door, despite the fact that my room was immediately adjacent to yours and that I had left my door open when I exited. I distinctly remember opening your door with enough force that, in retrospect, the knob should have punched a hole in the perpendicular wall. There was no damage. I possess no more tangible evidence, but this fits with…some of our experiences where Safe Mode is concerned."

Kirk stared at his comm as his thoughts whirled. The commander thought that Kirk would have died of time hadn't frozen. What the hell was Spock trying to say, that whatever was causing these time freezes had a vested interest in his survival? That seemed…weird, and pretty unscientific. So far, all the research they had conducted had been based on the assumption that time freezes were a relatively natural phenomena—like earthquakes and black holes. But this, this was implying the existence of a higher power. Well, in the very least, the existence of a more powerful power than Humans were aware of.

"Captain?" He heard the voice coming from his comm, but it seemed to be coming from improbably far away.

Ok, maybe this was unscientific, but maybe it also made more sense. After all, what possible reason would a natural phenomenon have for singling out a Human and a half-Vulcan? None. He refused to ask himself what reason a higher power would have for singling out them both because he didn't think he'd like the answers.

"You said this correlates with other experiences?" He asked weakly.

"Indeed." Spock confirmed. "I can recall at least one instance in your past where you would have died if time had not frozen." Tarsus IV, Kirk mentally filled in. "I have also had one such experience. The threat to my life was not as…explicit as it was in your case, but I have reflected on the circumstances and find my conclusion to be the correct one."

"When was this?" Kirk couldn't keep the shock and worry completely out of his voice.

"It was many years ago." Spock hedged. "Now is not the appropriate time for such discussions."

Kirk laughed faintly. "Yes, now's the perfect time to posit that we've got our very own guardian angels watching out for us, but let's not talk about our near-death experiences." He knew he was being a bit unfair, but this was more than he wanted to deal with at the moment. Really, all he wanted to do was sleep.

"I suggest that you get some rest, Captain." Kirk twitched involuntarily. How the hell did Spock know? "The sooner you are recovered, the sooner we will have our translator back."

"Hah, because translating's all that I'm good for, right?"

"Indeed, Captain." Spock replied, warmth in his tone belying his impersonal choice of words.

XXXXXX

The aliens refused to set foot on the Enterprise, but they were willing to relegate some conversations to video chat. The away team took the shuttle back up, and after spending twenty-four hours under McCoy's watchful eye, Kirk was permitted to rejoin them and continue the talks.

They were still encountering problems with the natives, though. Kirk didn't know whether this was the opinion of everyone or just Jumpsuit, but they didn't seem to believe a lot of the things Starfleeters told them. They received documents, videos, and other information with poorly-veiled distrust, as though the aliens were sure that these things had been faked. Kirk allowed that, maybe, he could see why they would have trouble wrapping their minds around a multi-xenocultural federation of planets spanning hundreds of light-years. After all, people liked to think that they'd have noticed the existence of something like that; if the Federation had gone unnoticed, it didn't suggest anything good for the existence of other multi-system-spanning entities.

And that was a scary thought. An empty universe is a universe that won't suddenly decide to nuke your planet.

So he could see the logic behind their denial. Spock, though, would point out that they were basing their responses on emotion, not logic, and that the reasonable thing to do would be to keep an open mind. After all, the only logical way to deal with a universe filled with (what you believe to be) nuke-happy superpowers is to align yourself with one of them.

But these aliens were in denial, and after putting up with their scorn and skepticism for hours on end he was about ready to draft a report to Starfleet about the non-viability of this planet and move on. It was telling that, when he mentioned this intention to the rest of the diplomatic team, no one objected too strenuously.

XXXXXX

Right about now, Kirk was grateful for the reduced gravity on the planet. It made running for his life so much easier.

They'd split up; Kirk with Sharma, Spock with Uhura. If the way they were pulling ahead of their pursuers was any indication, the aliens were less quick and had less endurance than Humans. This was also a benefit for the fleeing Starfleeters.

The meeting had been held in a cabin in a rainforest-like area. Now the trees were providing a good amount of cover. They didn't have any particular destination in mind, but that hitch in the plan wasn't really concerning Kirk at the moment. He and Sharma helped each other up a steep embankment and down the other side. He had no clue what the Tripods might be using to track them, but he did know that they mostly depended on eyesight. Logically, that meant that the best way to evade capture was to stick to heavily-wooded hilly areas without clear lines of sight and hope some means of escape would present itself.

Out of the whole situation, what bugged him the most was the niggling question of whether they'd been set up. As far as anyone on the Enterprise could tell, the aliens who had contacted them and asked for a private audience had been sincere. Uhura had created a secure channel for communicating, and Kirk had talked to what, he'd been told, was a persecuted Tripod minority. Every one of the aliens that Kirk had seen before (at the meetings, in the halls, and on the TV programs) had been some shade between emerald and sage green. The ones who had contacted them, however, were purple. They had told Kirk that they were hoping the outworlders would assist them, and that they wished to meet in person in a secure location.

The diplomatic team had been rather cautious, but they also hoped that these Tripods, having been the ones to initiate contact, would be less reticent than their viridian compatriots when asked uncomplicated questions such as, "Do you have a writing system?" They had even beamed a security team down first, in order to get detailed tricorder scans of the bunker-disguised-rather-uncleverly-as-a-log-cabin the plum-colored aliens were residing in.

Everything had checked out. Even Spock professed himself 79.53 percent happy with the safety of the situation.

This was all, of course, before the area had been hit with a low-range electromagnetic pulse.

XXXXXX

Even Kirk, who was no half-Vulcan calculating machine, knew from the beginning that the odds of making a successful escape were vanishingly low. All of their electronics had been fried by the EMP, so there were no comms to call the Enterprise with or tricorders to ascertain their location. They had no clue where they were running to, or even where their pursuers were.

Therefore, Kirk barely even felt a twinge of disappointment when a bunch of Tripods emerged from behind some nearby vegetation and pointed their weapons at the fleeing Starfleeters in a way which required absolutely no translation. Kirk and Sharma raised their hands in the universally accepted "I'm not armed" gesture.

The Tripods issued the captives instructions, naturally, using their native language. As Sharma was far from fluent, Kirk had to translate for her. However, their captors seemed to dislike hearing the spoken language, and every time one of them said something they would get jolted with the butt of a rifle-lookalike or elbowed. It made an already trying time more difficult, Kirk reflected sarcastically.

Eventually they were herded to a clearing, where something vaguely resembling a helicopter was waiting. Kirk didn't know whether he should feel relieved or disappointed to see Spock and Uhura already occupying seats in the transport, looking completely unharmed. Knowing better than to try talking to them, he merely nodded at his crewmembers when he was guided to his own seat.

Kirk wasn't sure what to think. On one hand, they hadn't been harmed or restrained. On the other, no one had offered an explanation. He could see the situation going one of two ways. The first possible path would be the 'we're saving you from dangerous rebels' one. They'll claim that the EMP was not used to destroy their comms and render communication with the Enterprise hopeless. Rather, it was to disable what fortifications the purple Tripods had and affect a rescue mission. After all, the purple ones were obviously inferior, and yet they insisted on equal treatment. Hilarious! Kirk half suspected that the green Tripods would claim that the Starfleeters were going to be held as hostages, if not for the daring liberation which had just been carried out.

Everyone, both the crew of the Enterprise and the aliens, would know that the story was a complete lie. There wouldn't be much point in trying to prove otherwise, though.

The second possible route would be a 'now the outworlders are helpless and we can do what we want with them, muahahah' situation. Kirk didn't really feel like dwelling on that one.

XXXXXX

The latter option seemed to be the one they were stuck with. The aliens prodded the Starfleeters out of the helicopter, through some astoundingly fortified doors, down a hallway, into an elevator which despite its name didn't so much elevate as descend, and finally to a somewhat spacious cell. It probably wasn't meant to be spacious, but as the Humans were smaller than the aliens there was plenty of room.

Kirk and Sharma settled down against one wall while Spock and Uhura took the opposite one. Oddly enough, the floors and walls were covered with some spongy material, so it was surprisingly comfortable.

"I know this isn't much, but at least they didn't split us up. This could be promising." Kirk said slowly. Uhura looked annoyed, and declined to comment. Spock seemed game, however, and raised his eyebrow in an invitation to continue.

"Ok, so as you know, I've been watching a lot of Tripod TV. And along with the whole tactile thing their culture has, they also don't like being alone. Unless it's absolutely necessary, no one will close a door if it means cutting off contact with other Tripods in an adjacent room. And depriving anyone, even convicts, of companionship is considered…for lack of a better word, inhuman.

"However, they don't hesitate to isolate animals. It's considered only logical to give each animal its own cage because then they could not possibly fight and injure each other. For what it's worth, they're treating us like they'd treat themselves. So far, at least." He shrugged uncomfortably, realizing that there probably hadn't been much point to his little lecture. It didn't change the fact that they were prisoners on an alien planet.

Lt. Sharma shifted next to him. Kirk glanced over, and recognized that she had turned to face him. He returned the gesture.

"Captain." She said, looking at him in a considering way. "You seem to know quite a lot about the culture of the natives."

He grimaced. "I wouldn't say a lot. It's just what I picked up while I was learning the language."

"Be that as it may," she continued, turning her head to include the rest of the captives in her discussion, "we could make an effort to 'humanize' ourselves in the eyes of the aliens. As you did, I use 'humanize' for lack of a better word. But maybe if we act in ways they recognize as being behaviors practiced by intelligent beings, then they'll treat us better." She left unsaid that this might lead to a laxity in security they would allow them to escape.

"That makes sense." Uhura chimed in, and Spock signaled his assent with a singular nod.

Kirk realized that they were all looking at him. "Oh, right. Well, at the moment all I can think of is the comforting thing. It's a pretty big part of their culture, and it's why they don't like to be solitary. To them, nothing is as…" he searched for the right word "…as sad, melancholy, lonely, as completely miserable as a Tripod who is hurting but has no one to offer him comfort." Kirk pursed his lips in thought. "It probably also doesn't help our case that we communicate by speaking. Only animals on this planet have vocal chords. So, we might want to rely on charades as much as possible."

Sharma looked at him, shrugged and gave him an apologetic smile, then threw an arm around his shoulder. She pulled him closer, and he scooted down a bit to put his head on her shoulder. Kirk hadn't the slightest clue whether the lieutenant had children (his guess would be not), but she was about his mom's age. Maybe this was why this felt more comfortable than he'd expected.

Across the cell, Uhura and Spock were having more problems. She seemed reluctant to touch him, and he probably had no clue how to initiate any sort of contact. In the end they settled for linking arms, and after half an hour of sitting ramrod straight Uhura gave up and put her head on the half-Vulcan's shoulder.

Still, neither of them looked comfortable.