Taken aback, she gazes into his eyes, her mind once again coming to terms with his fate, and the comprehension of what he had just uttered. Time seems to halt in these moments, the world around the couple disappearing. Her eyes moisten, her heart aflutter, her throat struggling to sound the words she longs to speak. He pays heed to her reactions, leaning closer still, speaking to her with a gentle and reassuring tone.
"Nyota, I know it is rather abrupt, yet given – "
"Yes,", she finally finds her voice, and gifts him an affectionate kiss, "I will marry you.".
Despite their conversation being spoken in low tones, Doctor McCoy can't help but overhear the exchange. It seems that, within the walls of the Medbay, nothing happens outside of his knowledge. Filing reports in his office, a small grin forms on his face.
Well, I'll be...he actually did it.
"What's this I'm hearing about a marriage proposal?". The Captain ambles into the Medbay, his mouth curled into a small smirk.
It seems that he had caught wind of this latest piece of news, no doubt from the good doctor, and had decided to pay a visit to his ill friend. Somehow, they all knew that this day would come; duty, readiness and other factors had been the key players in the obstruction of this joyous inevitability. In all seriousness, however, their wish is that the circumstances surrounding this merry occasion were better.
"Sorry, Spock,", begins McCoy, "I had to tell him.".
"That is quite alright, Doctor. I do not object.".
"So...", continues Kirk, "when are we going to do this? What kind of ceremony do you want?".
"While a Starfleet regulation ceremony aboard the ship would be sufficient,", the Vulcan turns to the woman next to his bed, "the Lieutenant has managed to convince me otherwise. Her argument is that a Vulcan ceremony would be more favourable for me, given my current circumstances. Admittedly, I...agree with her reasoning.".
"I don't think anyone on the ship knows how to officiate a Vulcan wedding, Spock.".
"We can have it on New Vulcan.", suggests Uhura. "The crew need a change of scenery, and...", she glances at the patient, "New Vulcan is the closest thing he has to his home planet.".
"Spock," the Captain turns to his friend, "what do you think?".
"I do not wish to inconvenience the crew with an unexpected course alteration, yet...I concur with this decision.".
"Well, that settles it, then.". The Captain claps his hands together, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face. "We're taking you to New Vulcan...to get married.".
Later that night, the Medbay has once again changed hands, and Doctor M'Benga is now overseeing the ward. The Communications Officer has fallen asleep, her petite figure stretched onto its side, beneath a covering to keep her warm. As the opportunity had arisen, the Vulcan patient had decided to shower before he settles into his own slumber. Logically, he thought he would perform his ablutions now, as there is uncertainty in the next possible chance he might attain, given the nature of his ailment. Patiently waiting outside the small washroom, the physician offers him some privacy, yet remains proximate in case something were to go awry, and Spock suffers another episode. Indeed, even an apparently simple task such as bathing bears a mishap for the ailed First Officer.
The razor with which the Vulcan had shaved abruptly plunges to the floor. His head is throbbing with a dizzyingly intense pain, and he begins to stagger toward the washroom door, squinting his eyes at the area's luminescence. The space around him seems to twist and bend, morphing into a muddled monochromatic scape. Near blind with disorientation, he only travels a few feet, swivelling his body around once more. He tries in vain to call out, make a sound, yet his voice falters, and nothing escapes his throat. Currently without anything in arms reach on which he can brace himself, he drops to the floor, his body hitting hard against the cold surface. A thin line of green blood flows from underneath where he had landed.
Having been listening intently at the locked washroom door, the doctor has heard the weighty slap emanating from inside. Keying a code into the touch interface at the doorframe, the door unlocks with a click and he bolts into the small space. Instantly, he spots the Vulcan's helpless form, unconscious, the disrobed figure sprawled face-down onto the damp laminated flooring. The physician soon spots the trickle of blood and rolls the patient onto his back to find its source. Sure enough, he locates the cause of the blood: there, at the side of the patient's member is a deep laceration, undoubtedly caused by the razor which is sitting idly on the floor where he had lain.
Hastily covering the wounded organ with a nearby towel, M'Benga calls to a nurse for assistance. Once the staff arrives, the two lift Spock off the floor, carrying him out of the washroom. The listless figure is carefully laid out onto the biobed yet again, with the doctor quietly ordering the nurse to bring him a dermal regenerator. With the device successfully acquired, the towel is removed, and the physician gets to work, repairing the damage that the razor had caused. So as to not disturb others within the wing, the two medicos work silently, their voices hushed. In spite of this, Uhura with her innate hearing, begins to awaken, having detected the muffled commotion.
"What happened?", she queries, her eyes catching sight of the Vulcan's injury.
"He collapsed in the washroom...wounded by his razor when he fell.", the doctor replies. "Hopefully, he doesn't wake up while – "
Almost as if he could hear the physician, the patient lets out a low moan, his eyelids slowly opening, squinting at the strange sensation from between his legs. Bracing for what may happen next, the Lieutenant shifts herself closer, grasping his hand.
"...what...are you...doing...?". The patient's voice is a dull croak as he feebly forms the words.
"It's alright, Commander. You had a little accident...we're just fixing you up.".
Then, the physician notices something about the patient's reactions: he continues to wince, his facial features contorted into a distressed look, a hand tightly gripping the sheet below him. The female Communications Officer spots this also, and leans her body even further forward to embrace him, almost shielding him.
"Better get a hypospray ready.", the doctor quietly suggests to the nurse at his side, then turns his gaze back to his patient. "I know, Spock...I know...we'll give you something for the pain soon.".
Yes, visibly he is in pain; yet, there is something else below the surface. A vulnerability seeping through, which doesn't present itself often, especially for one of his species: a lack of control over his mental faculties. Due to his unique and rather severe ailment, the Vulcan, it seems, can't block any pain...or control his emotions.
Bringing his arm around from his side, he wraps it around her, his fingers gripping the fabric of her uniform. A tiny cry escapes him and his body flinches with each pass of the dermal regenerator.
"...it hurts...", he whimpers into the shoulder of his soon-to-be wife. "...help me, Nyota...".