"Hey." Jim breathed as he swooshed through the door. His face was bright and alighted, something of a contrast to the doctor's. McCoy groaned.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?"
"Shouldn't you?"
The doctor shook his head in annoyance and waved him off, turning to skulk into his office. The door closed behind him. Kirk pressed his lips together and looked around the sickbay, his hands on his hips.
"How's your arm feel?" asked a voice behind him. Kirk turned to face Chapel and shrugged.
"He gave me enough of that stuff to numb an elephant."
She smiled and quietly walked up to the captain, her fingers prodding at the bandages. At the lack of a wince from the captain, she nodded in approval. She pressed two fingers into his skin, below the elbow, and noted how his complexion reacted.
"Seems like the transfuse took well. You're not light headed at all?"
"No." he smiled at her. "Is Spock —?"
"He's stable, Captain." she reassured.
"McCoy said he hasn't gone into the healing process."
"He's far too weak for that. Vulcans are able to do so on a dime, but they need enough brain and body power to slip into something so delicate. When he came in with the two of you…well, he's very lucky to be alive."
"He doesn't believe in luck." Kirk grumbled under his breath.
"Hmm?"
"Oh, I was just saying — never mind. Will he be able to go through it once he regains his strength?"
"Jim, wouldya stop harassing my nurse?" McCoy's impatient voice barked past the office door. "If you want to go hold his hand, he's literally in the same room he's always in."
Kirk turned his head towards the man's office, his mouth open to retort, but he figured it was pointless. He sighed and scratched his head.
"Has he rested at all?" He asked her quietly, motioning to McCoy's door.
"I'VE RESTED AS MUCH AS I DAMN WELL WANTED, JIM." Kirk heard the scratch of a chair against tile. He groaned as the doctor's angry stomps approached and the door was thrown open.
"What the hell are you doing down here anyway? Go sleep dammit, I'm tired of you haunting my sickbay!"
Kirk threw up his hands defensively. "Calm down, Sally, I just wanted to check on you."
"Listen, Patricia," he spat back. "you've stalked down to this room at least five times since we got back here seven hours ago, and you had orders to rest. Is this resting, Jim?! Does this look like you're following my orders? The answer is NO. So eat the sass and carry your pale rear back to your quarters before I shove so much sedative into your brain you won't even know what your own last name is!"
"You seem a little grumpy, Bones."
"BECAUSE I AM GRUMPY! DO YOU HAVE ANY —"
His bellows continued to ride the steam from his ears as Chapel amusedly led the Captain back out into the corridor. The doors swished closed, McCoy's ranting continuing to un-present ears.
"He hasn't rested since you've all come back, but I don't think you have either." Chapel gave gently.
"Well I did try, but as you might imagine it's not entirely easy after all this." He replied in mild frustration.
"We have pills for that —"
Kirk shook his head and paced a few steps. "No, not right now. Those things knock me out, and we barely got back. It would be irresponsible."
Chapel looked down to the Captain's boots, noting the chalky dirt that covered the leather and matted up his pants. Her chief medical officer looked the same. She raised her eyebrows as she silently mused.
She in part wanted to tell the Captain that in such circumstances, it might be more irresponsible to operate in his condition than it would be to sleep— that his officers can take over for him, she can take over for McCoy — that the two of them need rest about as much as Commander Spock needed it.
She shook her head, knowing it would be futile to mention such things.
The door opened once more to reveal a begrudging McCoy. He looked between the two of them and settled on Kirk.
"It's your lucky day, princess. Seems like he's about to wake up."
Kirk's face brightened as he stepped past McCoy, the nurse and her doctor exchanging amused expressions.
"I'm going to check on the bridge officers." Christine offered, quickly glancing in at Spock's room before smiling at McCoy. He turned a corner of his mouth up, constantly puzzled at the charm the Vulcan seemed to hold over not only his Captain, but nurse as well.
"Thanks, Christine."
She glided down the hallway, her stunning silver hair sporting a few fly-a-ways in the unending bustle. He took in a deep breath as he watched her turn the corner.
"Alright." he muttered to himself. "Don't yell at him. Be nice." He had to repeat the mantra Chapel ordered of him for when Spock woke. "Don't yell at him. Be nice." He sighed and cracked his neck. "Be nice."
He had been so incredibly distressed over Spock for so long, his tact meter was dipping well into the negatives. He always felt more lively after screwing with Spock, particularly when he had the upper hand, and he wanted nothing more than to chastise the man for almost dying, though it wasn't his fault exactly. Was it a logical desire? No. But dammit I am human and I don't give a rats ass about it.
"He's still out." Kirk rebuked when McCoy walked in.
"Yeah, his brain activity took a turn. It's a sign he's coming out of it, just give it a sec. Jesus, you're the most impatient man I've ever met."
Kirk turned in feigned defense. "Me? I don't know Bones, you're a pretty competitive contender for that."
"Shut up, Jim."
Kirk cracked a smile as he turned back to look at the Vulcan on the biobed. For the first time in days, he looked alive. He didn't exactly look well, but he no longer held the appearance that the Grim Reaper was coming for him at any moment.
Two separate IVs were hooked up to his veins. It was a practice not normally used these days, being something of the medical past — but occasionally, when the body was desperate enough and needed constant external help, it was known to be exercised. The oxygen mask had found its way back onto his face. A small bandage decorated the hairline gash, a tease of green bleeding through. The skin under his eyes were grey, and the remainder of his body held pale, but the familiar Vulcan tint had found it's way back to his complexion. His cheekbones seemed more prominent.
Slowly, but steadily, his eyelids opened to reveal tired and confused brown eyes.
"Spock." McCoy acknowledged, placing his hand on the headboard. He glanced to the readings, comforted by the oxygen level, and used his other hand to remove the mask before Spock did. The Vulcan blinked and shifted his shoulders.
"I am…not dead."
McCoy actually laughed and rubbed his eyes, a smile plastered on his face. Unexpected ease drifted into his soul. Being nice wasn't going to be as hard as he thought.
"No, no you're right about that. You're not dead."
"I don't understand." The disorientation in his eyes increased as he processed the situation. Quiet beeps filtered out from his biobed monitor. "I should be dead. Or close to it…but I do not feel like I am dying." He noted the rhythmic notes coming from the monitor, hearing how his heart was entirely more steady than when he'd heard it prior.
"Well, you're not dying. Your condition is improving, actually, if you can believe it."
"I apologize, McCoy, but frankly I do not believe it. I'll admit I am rather perplexed at the moment. The — we're on the ship." he realized. He blinked and shook his head, as if to rattle his memories into place. He opened his mouth again, to attempt and understand as his mind drifted back to a storm, a Captain's tortured yell, never-ending agony in his bones…
"Alright, maybe you should tell him what happened." Kirk motioned. It was obvious Spock was uncomfortably confused. McCoy nodded in agreement — he wasn't entirely certain how to approach the explanation.
"It's kind of a strange thing, Spock."
Spock had last been fully cognizant when he melded with the mind-connection through the tree, and he had missed almost everything following it. Pieces of an argument by a limp fire drifted through his memory, but he wasn't certain that was a dream or reality. He laid silently as McCoy recounted the events, Kirk chipping in occasionally to fill in the pieces. They'd both been in ill-shape themselves, particularly in a mental sense, and the night on the planet seemed fuzzy.
For Jim especially, though, the encounter with the moonlit beings was vividly clear. Spock stared at the ceiling above him, his eyebrows only slightly furrowed together, as his captain described what happened. Why Spock was alive, why they were all alive.
McCoy watched the Vulcan's expressions as Kirk finished with their final, and unexpected, beam-up to the bridge. He waited to see what Spock would say at the extraordinary and outlandish conclusion, but he maintained stillness.
"Spock?" he prodded. The Vulcan took in a long breath through his nose and turned his head to the doctor.
"It's fascinating." he muttered, wondrous. McCoy rolled his eyes, despising that word while feeling relish at it's familiarity. It seemed ages since he'd heard him say it.
"If only I had been lucid, to observe them myself." he continued, speaking more to himself than to his colleagues.
"Well you were dead, actually. I'm almost positive you were completely dead, if only for a moment."
"Doctor?"
"Oh yeah. I've seen my share of people die. A man can tell."
"I don't believe that is possible, Doctor McCoy."
"None of this was possible." he shrugged. Surprisingly, Spock accepted his comment and left his thoughts to himself.
"How do you feel, Spock?" he finally asked. He knew the Vulcan was on the mend, but he couldn't help but hold his breath. He could hardly remember a time the First Officer was physically fit.
Spock raised his eyebrow.
"I am…" he lifted a hand to his temple, "rather exhausted."
"Well you should be. Your cells have been regenerating, you're welcome by the way, thanks to my hypos, and that can tire a body something fierce. Any pain?"
He blinked sluggishly, the realization of his fatigue pulling sleep into his body.
"Perhaps."
McCoy looked back to the levels, the pain reader registering moderate discomfort. Something to be expected, though not desired.
"Alright, you need to sleep. Try and put yourself into a healing trance, alright? You need it."
Spock nodded. McCoy met Kirk's eyes and nodded out towards the door. They left the room, with McCoy lingering a moment in the doorway.
"Healing trance." he repeated. The Vulcan's eyelids had already closed, his head beginning to droop to the side. "Lights, 25 percent," grumbled McCoy. They dimmed, the only palpable amount of light filtering in from the open doorway.
"So?" Kirk asked as they made their way back to the main area of the sickbay.
"Looks a helluva lot better, doesn't he?" remarked McCoy. Kirk scoffed with a smile, nodding his head in agreement.
"Yeah, he does."
"You were right all along, Jim. I'm sorry."
Kirk cocked his head slightly at the comment.
"Sorry for what? Besides the aliens, you basically single-handedly saved his life."
"I'm sorry I didn't believe in him. I was absolutely convinced he was on death row, that there was no stopping that train. You were the only one who really believed he was going to make it. And time and time again, you tried to tell me he wasn't going to die, and I was so vehement against it. I'm sorry."
Kirk tapped his thumb against his pant leg. He knew why McCoy had thought that way — it was far more realistic than how Kirk was thinking.
"You don't have to apologize for that, Bones. He was on death row. He should have died, and I know that. I just couldn't accept it." He gave his friend's shoulder a hard pat. "It wasn't my blind belief that saved him, Bones. It was you."
"Me, and mystical alien voodoo."
Kirk smiled and chuckled. "Yup."
"Will you go sleep now?"
"I need to make another pass on the bridge."
"Alright hurry up."
Kirk gave him another pat before exiting medical. He brushed shoulders with an approaching Chapel.
"Chapel! How's my crew?"
"They're tired, but they're all healthy and stable. Nothing to worry about. What about that sleep, Captain?"
"Jesus, you and that Chief Medical Officer. I'll get there in a second. Go convince McCoy to sleep."
He left before seeing her smile, making his way to the lift. Seeing Spock alive, and even almost well, had given his subconscious the go-ahead on exhaustion. He suddenly felt very tired.
He came aboard the bridge, plopping himself another time in the command chair. He'd been in that chair most of the time since their return, besides a small attempt at sleep and his constant visits to sickbay. His officers were collectively relieved at his presence.
"Sulu?"
"We're almost back to charted territory, Captain. Shouldn't be more than another two solar hours."
"Perfect." He allowed himself to lean back in his chair, brushing his fingers across the familiar buttons on the command side. His eyes locked onto the stars before him, his drained energy temporarily forgotten.
"Do you want to rest, Captain? I can take over." offered Sulu.
"Maybe you should be transferred to medical." teased Kirk as a warning. Sulu smiled and turned back around in his chair, receiving the message.
A few hours is what he would allow. A few more hours, until the ship was safely in charted and familiar territory, and Kirk would hand the chair over.
That wish was dismantled as his body suddenly felt chilled. He took an alarmed breath of air in, and his lungs answered with crisp inhalation. He saw the Sulu and Chekov flinch in surprise as well, the entire bridge taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere.
A figure disintegrated from the air and reformed into a luminous figure that only Kirk could recognize.
It was the auroral alien from the monochrome moon.
Kirk lifted himself from his chair, his hands lingering on the armrests as he slowly stood. Uhura felt her breath stop in her chest at the sight of it, it's appearance near to what she had imagined but far from what she could prepare herself for.
"What are you doing on this ship?" dared Kirk, his voice awed and soft. One might expect questions and hypotheses running through a man's mind at a moment such as this, but Kirk found his mind to be stilled and quiet.
"Captain." It's voice filled the room, though it's intonation was gentle and effectuating. "You appear better than how I had left you." It's eyes roamed the room. "Your companions are not here…" It turned it's head slightly to the left. "They are on the 32nd deck…they too are improved."
"I…why are you here?"
It was silent, though even it's silence was heard to the ears of the crew members, as if the light it gave off was a sound in itself.
"I had let you leave prematurely."
Alone, the sentence sounded like a threat, but coming from the mouth of this particular being, it was received as an un-harrowing statement.
Every human on that bridge was still, hearts stopped and breathing hitched. Eyes remained unblinking, the ubiquity of the being finding every corner of the room. Kirk swallowed as he waited for an answer to the presence. No fear was held within him, but uncertain curiosity took it's place.
A part of him felt delectation at the unexpected appearance — the memory of the being had brought an unsalvageable need to see it once more. To feel what he had felt at it's confrontation in the forest. The air christened his lungs with every breath.
It straightened it's back, the black, starry night of the view screen backdropping it's whole omnipotence.
"I have something to ask of you, Captain."
Only a few chapters left, friends! Not sure how many, as I never am, but we're nearing the peak of the third act.
As always, thank you for reading. I still am in awe of how far this has gone.
As I mentioned once before, once I finish this story, I'm going to go back and revise the entire thing and repost it.
I like to think I had a lot of great ideas, and several golden moments, but there were many many times it was not executed well (particularly in the first half of the story).
I love that so many of you enjoy the read, and I love that love writing it. Keep reading, and I'll keep writing!
LLAP