Later that evening, the Vulcan once again regains consciousness, his eyelids sluggishly opening, a low moan escaping his throat as the harsh lighting of the Medbay hits his now extremely sensitive eyes. He makes small attempts to move his hands, his arms, his legs; but strangely, it is currently difficult to perform such seemingly simple actions. Thankfully, Doctor McCoy, being only a few feet away, has glimpsed his patient's weak fidgeting and pained expression, and approaches the biobed.
"Hey, pal,", the doctor places a hand on his friend's shoulder; his voice kind, sympathetic "how're you doing?".
At first, the Commander doesn't respond; a mild expression of confusion forming on his face, his eyes squinting blankly. The physician takes careful notice of this, and grants him several moments to gather his thoughts, form the words. It is almost as if the Vulcan's mind is slowly rebooting, like a centuries-old computer system. However, the befuddlement soon dissipates, his limbs moving with more ease, his eyes more alert; despite this, his eyelids still crimple at the lighting.
"It is...difficult to see.", he finally replies.
"Light hurting your eyes?".
The Vulcan nods slowly, his hand hovering above his eyes. At once, the doctor orders the computer to dim the lighting, the luminescence of the Medbay descending into grey ambience. With the illumination at more comfortable levels, the patient's hand relaxes, moving away from his eyes.
"Better?". McCoy offers a reassuring smile.
"Ha. Th'i-oxalra, Hassu.".
(Yes. I appreciate it, Doctor.)
The rather quizzical look on the physician's face causes Spock to scrunch his eyes, attempting to correct himself.
"Don't strain yourself, buddy.", the doctor taps the Vulcan's shoulder once more. "I'll get the Captain and Uhura down here, now that you're awake.".
Using an interface for the ship's comm system, McCoy calls the aforementioned officers, inviting them to the Medbay. Within minutes, the two arrive. He stops the two crewmates when they become within a few metres of the bed, speaking to them with a hushed voice.
"Just a heads up, he might get a little confused.".
"What do you mean?", probes Kirk, a puzzled look on his face.
"Well...it took him a minute to realise who I am, and where he is. He even said something in a language that's not English.".
"What did he say?", queries the Communications Officer.
"Uhh...", the physician searches his mind for the words, "ha, th'i-oxalra, hassu. Lieutenant, do you know what language that is? What it means?".
The linguist only takes a single moment to recognise each word, and their collective origin.
"It's Vulcan. The translation is 'yes, I appreciate it, Doctor.".
"Well, there might be more where that came from. I may need to call on you to help communicate with him if or when he gets less...lucid.".
"Of course.". Her voice is mildly shaky, her gaze moving past McCoy and onto Spock on the biobed.
"Also, uh...", continues the doctor, much more quietly this time, "I haven't...told him yet; so, be gentle with him. We can ease his pain, but I wish there was more I could do... I guess we just need to keep him comfortable, give him some company... Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Let me know if you need anything.".
"Thanks, Bones.", replies the Captain.
With a pat on his friend's shoulder, the physician takes his leave, tending to his other patients and reports. Completely unsure of what to say, the two officers approach their crewmate on the biobed. Their movements are made with hesitant steps, their minds abuzz with a white noise, a desperate search for the right words. How does one even begin, with the knowledge of a dear friend's fate? Also residing within them, is the hope that their minds and their words do not fail them.
"How are you feeling?". Kirk is the first to speak, a benevolent smile masking his sorrow and the information contained within his mind.
"I am currently well, Khart-lan.". Again, Spock crinkles his face, following a mild look of confusion from his friend. "Forgive me...Captain. I seem to be having a degree of difficulty at present.".
"It's alright, Spock. Don't sweat it.".
"Be that as it may, I believe I owe both of you an apology.".
"What are you talking about?".
The Vulcan takes his time, his mind carefully forming the words, before giving his response.
"I was under the assumption that my affliction was temporary, and that an adequate amount of rest would be a viable remedy. However, I now concede that I was incorrect in that initial hypothesis.".
"We've all done that at some time. What matters now is that you're here, and you're being cared for.". Another reassuring smile, and another pat on the patient's upper arm. "You rest up, okay? That's an order.".
"Yes, Captain.".
"I'll leave you two alone.", the Captain whispers to Uhura, before making his way out of the Medbay.
The Communications Officer grabs a nearby chair and positions it next to Spock's bed. Placing herself onto the furniture, she holds his hand in hers, with a gentle squeeze of his palm. For one so adept at verbal communications, she is currently finding it rather difficult to acquire the correct words to say.
"Are you feeling a bit better? How's the fatigue and headache?", she finally manages to muster.
"Marginally so, at this moment. Again, I must apologise, Nyota.".
"You don't need to apologise for anything, Spock.".
"Nevertheless, I feel that I am obliged to make amends. I am afraid that I will not be able to attend our regular evening meals for the time being.".
"It's okay...don't worry about that.", another grasp of his hand, accompanied by a soft peck on the lips.
With weary eyes, he gazes at the woman next to his biobed: her sympathetic face; her equally kind smile, a veil for that which resides deep within her troubled heart. Yet, it is her eyes which are hinting at something more, something hidden beneath the surface; a sadness that he can almost sense. A sadness that she can't seem to disguise.
"You seem distressed. Is there something more you wish to convey?".
Aching with the true nature of his condition, her heart nearly skips a beat. She can't divulge this information to him, not just yet. Opening her mouth to speak, her voice is trembling as much as her lips.
"I've just been worried about you...I'm still worried.".
"Whatever is troubling your mind, you can speak of it to me. To use a human idiom, 'I am all ears'".
Those last words broaden her smile, almost causing her to chuckle, then her face begins to soften. Despite his current ailment, he is still inclined to ease her concerns. That, evidently, is what love is.
"You just concentrate on resting, okay?". She kisses his forehead this time, her free hand placed upon his face, a thumb gently stroking his cheek. "I'll stay here for a while, until you fall asleep.".
"While I could say that is not necessary, in my current predicament, I find the notion most welcoming, Nyota.".
Once more, fatigue soon tightens its grip and within two hours, the Vulcan begins to slowly drift into sleep. Uhura, still at his bedside, watches as his eyelids become heavy; in all this time, her hand had not moved from his. Before long, her own eyelids begin to fail, as weariness catches her, and she starts to doze.
It doesn't take much time, however, for her to be suddenly jostled awake by Spock's abrupt stirrings, his long figure writhing about on the bed. As the Medbay staff scurry to aid him, he utters a single word, his eyes wide with abhorrence. A word which causes Uhura to break away from her seat, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Tevakh...tevakh...".
(Death...death...)
After a sedative is administered via hypospray, the Vulcan's body loosens, and he soon slips back into his slumber. Doctor McCoy lets out a heavy sigh, his head turning toward the Communications Officer now sobbing in a corner of the ward. He approaches, a comforting arm extended, speaking to her in quiet tones.
"It's alright...".
"Sorry, Doctor.". She whisks the tears away with her hand.
"Don't be...and please, call me Leonard. We've known each other long enough. Talk to me.".
"He keeps saying 'death' over and over again.". She buries her face in the physician's tunic, her tears flowing still. "He knows, Leonard...he knows.".