"You alright, Spock? You look tired.", inquires the Captain, noticing the dark marks under his friend's eyes.
Indeed, the Vulcan had seemed rather 'out of sorts' as of late. He had just returned from an away mission several days prior. The planet to which he and a few other crewmembers had beamed featured some incredibly unique geological characteristics of scientific significance. Dense, yet breathable, was the planet's atmosphere; the gravity, too, was mildly stronger than the team were accustomed to, yet caused no issues during their visit.
Once a satisfactory amount of ore samples had been collected, all with varying properties, the team had been beamed back up to the ship. Spock had developed a mild headache upon his return, yet remained adamant that it was tolerable, and that he could still perform his duties. He was given a brief check-up by Doctor McCoy, which returned nothing, so he had promptly resumed his work. The other members of the away team, too, had received the 'all clear' and had returned to their own tasks.
The Vulcan had spent much of the last few days cataloguing the geological samples in the science lab. The headache, however, had not dissipated, and a few of his fellow crewmembers had noticed him appearing more weary and his concentration had seemed a bit lacking. Unbeknownst to them, the continually worsening headache is now accompanied by mild dizzy spells, blurred vision, and increasing levels of fatigue. Due to the never-ending headaches and blurred vision, his eyes are now quite sensitive to light, despite having protective inner eyelids which his species had developed through evolution for the harsh Vulcan sun.
Uhura, in particular, had noticed something within him had changed. Their nightly activities still possessed its enjoyment, albeit with less than its usual amount of vigour; yet, he had seemed out of breath afterwards, almost drained, even. With his renowned Vulcan stamina, this seemed quite strange, and she knows this. She had asked if he was okay, if something was wrong, but he had merely brushed it aside, blaming fatigue from the recent away mission.
Nothing, it seems, has impeded his stubbornness.
"I am fine, Captain. It is merely a headache.".
"Why don't you go to your quarters? You look like you could do with some rest. Besides, it's pretty quiet today.".
"Yes, Captain.". With that, the Vulcan rises from his station to take the few steps to the turbolift.
Stepping out of the turbolift and into the corridor, he tries to mask his increasingly blurring vision, dizziness, and near unbearable headache by attempting to assume his usual stoic posturing. Although, nothing can hide the dark bags beneath his eyes, as he makes the journey to his quarters with slightly uneasy steps.
Finally approaching his personal living space, he taps an interface, the door unlocks, and he steps through the open doorway. Once the door is securely locked again, he dims all of the lighting drastically, the space now almost pitch-black. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his eyes with a thumb and index finger, he staggers through his quarters, his vision now dotted with dark spots, his head pounding even more. Peeling off the outer layers of his uniform, piece by piece, carelessly discarding each article to the carpet, he unsteadily makes his way to the washroom. For him to throw his clothing onto the floor in such an untidy manner is completely out of character for him, yet he continues until he is down to his undershorts, as he approaches the washroom.
Now only clad in his trunks, he wobbles through the doorway and toward the basin, into which he proceeds to cleanse his face with cool water from the tap. Despite the blurry, spotty vision, he glimpses a small speck of dark green blood on the towel with which he uses to dry his face. Placing the crumpled towel onto the edge of the sink, he turns back toward the washroom doorway. A sudden sharp pain shoots through his head, causing him to wince and grunt and his body to double over. His vision becomes much more blurred, and the whole world seems to spin and twirl in shades of grey and black.
Overcome with intense pain and nausea and disorientation, his eyes begin to droop as he limps to the doorway of the washroom, one hand at his temple. His free hand bracing the doorframe, his legs buckle beneath him and he drops to his knees. The nausea overtakes him and he vomits a small amount of bile, as he falls with a thud into a crumpled heap, his eyes beginning to close. Soon enough, he descends into unconsciousness, everything fading to black, a line of green blood trickling from his nose.