Author's Note: Guess what guys! Another chapter! Because I'm having feels. And I'm also trying to motivate myself into writing. (Side note, why does my brain have to keep coming up with a billion and one cool stories. I've got a Tarsus one I want to do, a pre-reform Vulcan style one, and, now, an aliens-made-them-do-it type of get-together fic. Brain, slow down. I can only do so much!) I'm trying so hard to make this the priority, though. Bear with me! And thanks a bundle to all who reviewed last chapter! They keep me going!
Shortly after his ice bath and the introduction of cooled fluids into his body, a cluster of nurses created a whirlwind of choreographed movement as they thoroughly washed and scanned and sterilized Jim and the room around him. Spock was ushered out, made to watch through the ALON wall next to the door as the nurses worked efficiently through a seemingly endless amount of tasks. Even as the biobed's forcefield walls were raised and the whole thing was disengaged from the wall port for transport, the nurses carried on.
They exited the room without breaking rank around Jim and Spock realized he was being prepped and moved to the OR. Spock matched their brisk pace as he followed as close behind as possible without getting in the way, not letting his eyes stray from Jim's unconscious form. Spock, having never truly witnessed a full medical staff work - except from the edges of triage stations - was quite impressed as one of the nurses used the intravenous catheter in Jim's arm to administer sedatives in tandem with another nurse applying a face mask, all without speaking.
It was a truly impressive display that Spock would feel more excitement at witnessing if not for the fact that it was Jim they were working on— all of it happening because of Jim's rapidly declining state of wellness. In just over a standard day, Jim had gone from having a simple case of gastrointestinal upset to a possibly fatal infection of his blood.
Spock was halted from accidentally following the contingent of nurses into the prepared operating room by a brawny nurse who had one dark hand outstretched in front of Spock's chest but consciously not touching it. Spock gave part of a thought to acquiring a shirt and discarded it once the nurse began explaining that he could watch from a small, darkened observational room.
The nurse showed him the room and he was left alone in there to watch as several different scanners were set up around the operating table to run diagnostics on different areas of Jim's body and feed all relevant data to the biomonitor on the wall across from where McCoy stood in fresh scrubs and gloves. Jim was transferred to the table in the center of the sterility field and McCoy, two nurses, and another doctor converged on Jim to begin their endoscopic surgeries in Jim's upper gastrointestinal tract.
It was difficult to watch as the length of the endoscope was fed into Jim's propped-open mouth while the man was completely unaware of what was going on. In the day of modern medicine, it seemed like an incredibly invasive procedure. It seemed almost violating and Spock found himself pressing one hand flat against the ALON window with a creeping desperation filling his mind. He needed to savehelpprotect Jim.
When Spock noticed how he was pressing his hand to the window - the same hand he had pressed against the door to the warp core chamber - he quickly withdrew it and clenched it at his lower back, appalled and ashamed.
He forced himself to remain calm, employing the advanced meditation methods of those who chose to go through with kolinahr to help him maintain this stoicism— techniques he had first learned as a troubled child. (A sine qua non his mother opposed and his father found concerning, even as both allowed him the concession. From it, he had mastered techniques it took adult Vulcans years of study to become proficient at. Necessity was the mother of advancement, after all.)
After the endoscope was slowly removed, and Spock expected the operation to be over, a device that was attached to an arm on the ceiling was brought to hover over Jim's abdominal cavity. Spock recognized it immediately as a surgical tool before McCoy pressed his face close to the viewscreen on it and then his gloves were stained and streaked red. Multiple gloves were, as two other sets of hands assisted his. At the sight of Jim's blood, a small spike of fear penetrated Spock's careful control and his unclenched hand spasmed into a tight fist. It was the same fear he had felt hours previously when Jim had first vomited up blood.
And he had let himself believe Jim would be alright, let McCoy assure him with his knowledge of what was normal for Jim. Anger - boiling, irrational, consuming anger - pressed thick up against the walls of his forced calm, distorting his grasp on his emotions enough that a momentary hatred of the doctor overtook him. It was only a sliver of the same feeling he had felt when facing Khan, but it still threatened his control.
Just the barest thought of Khan, and the similarities of then and now, had a deep green rage twisting through him. It had been a disturbing realization for Spock when he was forced to consider the possibility that as long as the augment was still alive (even locked away, frozen and buried somewhere only Level 1 Top Secret Security Cleared Individuals in Starfleet would find him) he would have that feeling toward the man tucked away deep inside somewhere.
By the time McCoy was finished and Jim was being transferred back into his biobed, Spock had somehow worked himself into such a capricious frenzy that he only just held himself back from snarling at a nurse that came to fetch him. Apparently Jim's medical history and his susceptibility to further infection and complications necessitated the use of full sterility. Spock was denied the right to follow Jim back into his room in sickbay until he underwent the sterilization procedures approved of by Doctor McCoy.
Spock once again felt a certain hatred he didn't fully understand for the man.
But if it would protect Jim and facilitate a quicker recovery, Spock would submit himself to the preventative measures. The doctor personally oversaw it all and decided to give Spock a round of hyposprays he called 'boosters' before letting him back into Jim's room.
A portable sterilization station had been placed next to Jim's door. Spock wasn't required to use it as he was already as clean as it was possible for one being to be and the sickbay was, Spock theorized, as clean as it was physically possible for any Federation space to be. McCoy utilized the station and tugged a paper mask over his mouth before entering Jim's room with Spock.
Next to the bed, one of the nurses had placed an ergonomically comfortable chair. McCoy snorted when he saw it.
"Problem, Doctor?" Spock asked, barely managing to keep his voice tense instead of growling.
"Not a thing, hobgoblin," McCoy muttered, walking towards Jim just as the captain's eyes began to twitch with a return of consciousness
Spock resigned himself to the irrational emotions he predicted he would be feeling in regular fits that would test his control until Jim improved.
McCoy brushed Jim's hair from his forehead and Spock, once again, desired to break his fingers.
AN: How are you all loving protective!Spock? I, personally, am a big fan. I just eat that shit up with room for seconds always.