Welcome back! In this one, the Enterprise continues searching, Spock and McCoy continue waiting (and bantering). But how high are the chances of getting rescued in time?

Doctor Chapel entered the dark sickbay early in the morning. She made herself a coffee, went through a handful of reports that had come in during the night, and relieved the night nurse to start her shift.

Sickbay was empty but she still had work to do, in expectation of getting two new patients, hopefully soon. It would be better if there was no medical emergency at all, but Chris Chapel wasn't prone to being delusionary. The time of the planned rendezvous with the shuttle was over, and she had to assume they had little to no power. So, she prepared two beds.

It was an easy task, as long as she didn't think about who she was preparing the beds for. Every hour that passed would mean a deterioration in Spock and Leonard's well-being. They were probably alive and relatively well at this point, but if they did not find them today, chances were they would need to be treated for moderate or even severe hypothermia. And if they did not find them tomorrow…Christine didn't dare think about it.

She started when she turned around from her work. The Captain had entered the ward, leaning against the doorframe. He looked like she was feeling.

"Sorry, Doc, I didn't mean to startle you," he said.

"Why don't you come in, Captain?" she asked, sensing that this was more than just him poking his head in to say hello.

He accompanied her to her office, but once there, didn't sit down.

"Any news, Captain?" she asked, standing opposite him.

Kirk shook his head. "No, nothing yet. I've come to see how you were doing."

"Oh, I've prepped two biobeds for hypothermia patients, and medics are standing by to jump into action once they've been beamed aboard. I know it could still take a while until we find them, but if…when we do, we'll need to be quick." She gestured towards the ward. "Is there anything else you want me to do, Captain?"

Jim Kirk smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and he shook his head. "From what I can see you're all set. I haven't come down to control your work, but to check on you." He paused, noticing the circles under her eyes, and the faint frown. "How are you feeling, Chris?"

"Oh, I'm…Well…" she stuttered and averted her eyes.

She didn't want to talk about how she felt because it would make her fears feel real. The eventuality of losing both Spock and Leonard felt too painful to face, the love she felt turning on her and manifesting as fear. They had been happy, so very happy, Spock and her. Would they be cheated of a happy future together? Every passing hour made it seem more likely.

"I'm frustrated," she said, looking back up at the Captain. "There's nothing I can do but wait and hope, wondering when I should start preparing the morgue instead." Her lip quivered and she cast her eyes downwards.

Jim shook his head and took her by the shoulders. "Not yet," he said and pulled her into a hug. "Not yet, Chris," he repeated as she leant into him. "He's alive. I'm sure he is," he whispered.

Christine nodded and drew back from his embrace. "Why yes," she murmured, a tentative smile playing around her lips. "I think I'd feel it if he…if he were gone, as mad as it sounds."

"It doesn't," Jim said, "not to me. And if Spock's alive, so is Bones." The question was for how long, he thought, provided their hunch was right at all and they weren't too late already.

Chris saw his shoulders slump slightly, and she knew what he must be thinking but not daring to speak aloud.

"You couldn't have foreseen this," she said.

"Couldn't I?" he asked wearily and sat down at her desk at last.

She sat down in the chair opposite, waiting patiently for him to continue.

"I sent McCoy on a mission others would have been more than qualified for, just to prepare a party. And because I sent him, he might not only miss it but be dead when his birthday comes around."

"You would've had to send someone, either way, what happened wasn't your fault," Christine said. "And it might just all work out. Waiting and hoping is terrible because it makes you think of all the ways your hopes could be dashed. But there is hope, regardless of how terrible this feels."

"I'd like to think so," Jim said. "What makes you say so?"

Christine shrugged. "Stupid human instinct. You might remember Leonard once had Xenopolycythemia, an incurable disease. He was cured. Spock went all the way and died. He came back. Those two aren't easily killed."

Jim nodded and chuckled lightly. But it was a mirthless laugh. They had been very fortunate until now, maybe too fortunate.

"I know it makes you wonder about the day we're really too late, the day someone can't be saved. And maybe, one day, that'll be the case," Christine continued. "But why wait for it? Until that day has come, let's assume it's not today. And maybe, with a little luck, it won't come at all. You never know what the next day brings, Jim. Why not assume it'll be something good?"

"That's a lot of maybes, Chris," he said, smiling for real this time. "But you're right. Let's not lose hope so early." He stood up and moved towards the door. "And you would do good to follow your own advice, Doctor," he said, turning around one last time. "That's an order."

Leonard McCoy felt very light as he began to wake up. Weightless almost. Then, he grew more conscious and realised he could not feel the floor beneath him. With an undignified gasp, he ripped his eyes open, just to see the ceiling of the shuttle above him, far too close. He flailed his arm in the air, achieving nothing. He was floating in mid-air. The artificial gravity was turned off.

He looked to his right and saw Spock hovering next to him, dignified as always although he was floating upside down, his legs folded against the ceiling. The image of an overgrown bat came into McCoy's mind.

"Good morning, Doctor," the Vulcan said without opening his eyes.

"How can you meditate like this?" McCoy growled, referring to both the zero G environment and them being marooned on a rock in space.

"The lack of gravity is quite helpful when entering a meditative state," Spock answered calmly. "Our isolation as a whole is beneficial as well, due to the lack of people's unordered minds in the vicinity. There has been little interference until now."

McCoy scowled at Spock. "It's alright, I can take a hint," he grumbled and attempted to turn on his side, away from Spock. He failed miserably. Hovering in the middle of the room, as he was, rendered him unable to reach anything from which to push off.

"Do me a favour, Spock, and turn it back on," he murmured. "I can't take this."

Spock opened his eyes, and McCoy could have sworn that he was smirking. In one smooth motion, he pushed off from the ceiling, flipped around and landed next to the access hatch holding the gravity control. He held onto the hatch for a moment to stabilize himself until he was floating in front of the control switches.

His finger hovered over the one that would turn the gravity back on.

He looked up at McCoy, still floundering in mid-air, and back to the switch.

"Spock. Get me down here," McCoy hissed. He instantly hoped Spock wouldn't take him too literally.

But Spock seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion a second earlier. He reached up, got a hold of the Doctor's collar and pulled him down next to him. Then, he flipped the switch. Spock barely moved as he dropped the last two centimetres. McCoy, meanwhile, landed on his feet with a loud thud as he fell from the height of Spock's shin.

"Let's not try that again, please," he grumbled, getting only a short nod as a reply.

As Spock went to the cockpit to check the shuttle's status, McCoy looked around. The water pack, the emergency ration pack, and both sleeping bags had been fastened to the walls. Spock seemed to have prepared everything, including the sleeping Doctor, for zero G. He couldn't have known that he had a penchant for tossing and turning in stressful situations, which must have led to him wriggling out of his sleeping bag unnoticed by the Vulcan.

"Any news?" he asked in the direction of the pilot seat.

"Negative," Spock answered. He did not need to tell the Doctor that the shuttle's power supply was deteriorating steadily. That wasn't news anymore.

McCoy frowned at the back of Spock's head. This would feel indefinitely longer if that man kept being so typically monosyllabic. No wonder he had started talking to himself.

He shivered involuntarily. It has gotten noticeably colder since yesterday. But maybe he was just hungry.

He crouched down next to the emergency ration pack and rummaged around for something appealing. Unsurprisingly, he wasn't very successful.

"Three hundred years of space travel, and no one ever thought to design tasty emergency rations," he grumbled and rummaged on.

He cast aside the protein bars and nutrient biscuits. He wasn't that desperate yet. The full meal options were set aside as well. They looked promising, which could only mean they would disappoint.

"Hey, Spock, do you remember these?" he asked, suddenly grinning widely, holding up a packet of coloured food cubes. "Don't see them as much anymore, but they were everywhere on our five-year mission."

"Indeed," Spock said and came over to sit on the ground next to the Doctor.

McCoy ultimately decided on oatmeal and commenced rehydrating two portions.

"There's nothing Vulcan among the rations. This will have to do."

"I will not require sustenance," Spock said, shuddering slightly as the cold became more noticeable.

"The hell you do! You need your nutrients," the Doctor protested and put the two bowls on the heating unit. "It could be a while before they find us!"

Spock remained suspiciously silent. McCoy met his eyes and saw the dreaded answer there.

"You don't believe they will. You think we're gonna die, don't you?" he murmured, realising why Spock had said he would not need any food.

And he still did not say anything.

McCoy grabbed his shoulders and shook him lightly. "Answer me, Spock!"

"Our chances of survival are minimal, Doctor," Spock said at last. "Even if Enterprise follows our ion trail, the chances of them arriving in time are nearly zero. No doubt, the trail has become compromised by free-floating minerals and natural degradation. And even if they arrive at the right asteroid, they will have to find the shuttle, probably by sight alone." Spock paused and met the Doctor's gaze with a hint of regret. "I'm sorry."

McCoy nodded and averted his eyes. He couldn't face Spock's apologetic look. He'd rather have the Vulcan blame him for the blunder with the communicator, and by extension for their current situation, than apologize for it. He glowered at the oatmeal and warmed his cool hands over the heating unit.

"It would not have made a difference," Spock said from his right, with an unusual touch of emotional perceptiveness.

"You can't know that, Spock."

"But I can. When we tried to lift off, our helm and navigation systems were already damaged to such a degree that trying some minutes earlier would have only made a difference of one more failed attempt at escape."

McCoy narrowed his eyes at him. "And you're not just saying that to cheer me up?"

Spock raised one eyebrow. "Most certainly not."

He took the bowls off the heater and handed McCoy one portion. "Eat, Doctor, you need your nutrients," he said. "It could be a while."

They ate in silence, and Spock noticed that McCoy had moved closer after the realisation of their impending demise. He chose not to comment on it, as it was clear the Doctor would only react embarrassed if Spock drew attention to his subconscious need for companionship. But he did not need to mention it to react accordingly. He would try to console his human friend and soothe his fears as best he could, even though he was sure that complex emotional support and physical affection were not in his repertoire.

To be continued...

Do you think Spock will manage to comfort McCoy in the future? How much of a future do they still have? Feel free to review, and tell me what you think!