Welcome back! I think we'll find out just how well Spock is feeling at this point, or how well he has held himself together. Turning human isn't easy. Although it's debatable if he really is turning human if you ask Jim.

Hours later, Chekov brought Spock back to Jim's cabin.

"I will be alright on my own," Spock said. "You may leave me here."

"Forgive me, but I have other orders," Chekov said as he moved into the cabin and pressed the intercom button. "Chekov to Kirk."

"Kirk here, what is it, Pavel? Everything alright?"

"Everything alright, Captain. We're finished in the torpedo bay, and back at your cabin. Mr Spock says I can leave him alone but I didn't think that wise."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment. Then Jim answered, "It's alright, Pavel, carry on with your other duties, I'll be there in a couple of minutes anyway."

Chekov turned to Spock who looked at him smugly.

"I had to ask," Pavel said.

"Of course. Thank you."

After Chekov had left, Spock slumped down in Jim's chair and burrowed his head in his arms on the table. He had been fighting a feeling of dizziness for the past half hour and could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Breathing deeply, he tried to calm down. There was a clenching feeling in his breast and a strange prickling behind his eyes. He drew a shuddering breath. He had succeeded in not letting his control slip too much in front of Pavel. One time was quite enough. Now he just had to calm down before Jim came back, which was easier said than done. He was failing miserably at trying to subdue his biological reaction, and he began to grow frustrated at his lack of composure.

He heard the swishing sound of the door opening, and Jim entered. Spock raised his head from the table and straightened up in the chair. But he remained in the shadows.

"Did you have fun?" Jim asked with his back to him as he turned up the light.

"I'm not a child!" Spock protested, but then said softly, "Yes, I did have…fun. But…"

Jim turned abruptly at the sound of his voice and saw the exhaustion in Spock's face.

"It's still difficult, isn't it?"

Spock nodded and took a shuddering breath. To Jim's shock, his eyes were moist.

"It's still hard to cope with…everything," Spock murmured and a sudden tear rolled down his cheek. He looked away and hid his face in his hands.

Jim approached him cautiously and put one hand onto his arm where the robe's sleeves had slipped down. Spock flinched at first but relaxed ever so slightly into the touch. Through the skin-to-skin contact, Jim felt a wave of sadness, confusion, loneliness, and anger at the hopelessness of the situation.

He kneeled in front of Spock but didn't loosen his grip.

"Spock…"

The Vulcan lowered his arms but immediately averted his eyes.

"This isn't who I am," he whispered hoarsely.

Jim absentmindedly caressed Spock's arm in an instinctive gesture of comfort. "It is a part of you…"

Spock shook his head and, like in a trance, lifted a finger to wipe away a tear. He watched the droplet on his finger, suddenly appearing surprised.

"This is not the Vulcan way," he mumbled, "I'm being stripped of my control."

"Don't think Vulcan, Spock. Think human," Jim said. "What is your human side telling you?"

Spock looked at his hands, balled to fists in his lap. Was there anything his human side was telling him? Yes, there was actually a lot. And for all the intensity of the emotions, its message was quite clear. He needed help. Help, affection, and care. But he couldn't tell Jim that.

He looked up, met his friend's gaze and found that he didn't have to. Jim understood. He wrapped his arms around Spock as the Vulcan leant into him, and he held him without judgement while he wept.

After a while, he disentangled himself from Jim's arms, obviously embarrassed, and stood up to walk over to the bed. Jim released him only reluctantly. He could feel there was a lot of emotion still weighing on Spock. But he didn't want to confront him; that would only do as a last resort.

Spock had slumped down on the bed without another word and had turned towards the wall with a long-suffering sigh.

Jim grasped the tranquiliser from the desk and sat on the bed.

"Hypo?" he asked and held it in front of Spock so he could read the label.

Spock nodded and Jim pressed the hypo against his arm, releasing the medicine with a hiss. He put the hypo aside and gingerly touched Spock's arm.

"Spock…"

"Please, don't," he said. "Not now."

Jim removed his hand and looked down at him, helpless.

"It's alright, Jim," Spock said softly and looked at him over his shoulder. "Thank you."

Jim nodded and left Spock to his own devices. Soon, he noticed that Spock had fallen asleep, and sat down at his desk to finish some reports.

For a little over an hour, he worked away at his desk, ultimately finishing the paperwork that had accumulated during the last day. Just when he was done and turned around to check on Spock, the door chime sounded.

"Come!"

McCoy entered his cabin quietly, nodded at Jim, and came to stand next to the bed. Spock was moving in his sleep, not yet restless but definitely disturbed.

"How's he doing?" Leonard murmured.

"He's trying to adjust, to come to terms with what's happening to him. He's still suppressing a lot of it." Jim shrugged helplessly. "I've never seen him so affected, emotionally."

"Well, think about it," McCoy said. "There's the physical aspect of his DNA being messed with making him sick, and the psychological consequences of suddenly being blasted with his emotions…"

Jim nodded. "…that he didn't feel before. Not like this."

"Not like this, no."

"I didn't notice he was feeling as bad," Jim mumbled. For Spock to be this affected, he must have been feeling bad for a while now.

"No one did. He held himself together in public. Until he fainted," McCoy grumbled and sighed. "Bless his heart, he probably didn't realise himself just how bad off he was."

"He's sleeping more than usual…"

McCoy didn't seem surprised. "Well yes, he must be exhausted. And he feels safe enough to rest now."

"We're just a few days away from Vulcan…" Jim murmured.

Some people would say that would be the sensible solution: have Spock taken care of by his own people. Something about that sentiment didn't agree with Jim, though. Vulcan or not, this crew were Spock's people. But was this Jim's selfishness speaking? Did he actually know what was best for Spock or did he just not want to let him go? He wished Bones would disagree with his idea, just so he'd know keeping Spock close was the right call.

McCoy didn't disappoint. "No, we can't do that," he said decisively.

Jim nodded, relieved, and proceeded to tell Bones about the nightmare Spock had had, the vomiting, and the crying.

"I want to keep him with us. But I've got to wonder if that is truly in Spock's interest," he said. "I'm a captain, not a carer!"

"Don't steal my lines!" Leonard said and frowned good-naturedly down at him. "And you're gonna do fine. We're gonna do fine. We can't let him down, now. He belongs with us."

"Is that a choice he would make?" Jim asked sadly.

McCoy smiled down at him and murmured, "It's a choice he already made, Jim, again and again. As long as possible, his place is at your side and amongst his friends." His smile became a grin. "His mother agrees."

"You talked to Amanda?" Jim asked incredulously.

"Starfleet regulation dictates that in the case of serious illness, the next of kin must be alerted."

Jim was sure that until now, they had not followed that regulation. They would have had to call Spock's mother once a week. Maybe that regulation didn't even exist.

"Anyway," McCoy continued, "she said she could imagine no better people to see to her son's emotional needs, and we should keep her informed. And she said to tell him…"

"To tell him what?"

Leonard bit his lip and mumbled, "She said to tell him she loves him."

"Do you want me to tell him, Bones?" Jim asked, barely suppressing a grin.

"Nah, I'll manage," he grumbled. "Jeez, I should be able to tell a grown man his mother loves him. That woman did that on purpose because she knows we don't get along."

Jim gave up and grinned widely at Bones. "Or she simply wants her son to know she loves him."

Leonard made a noncommittal sound and turned his attention to Spock. The Vulcan had begun to wake up and was opening his eyes.

"How are you feeling?" McCoy asked gently.

Spock didn't make an effort to hide his discomfort. "Badly," he murmured, sleepily.

Jim joined Leonard at Spock's bedside and gazed down at him.

"Why didn't you ask for help earlier?"

"I didn't know it was this serious," Spock said slowly, swinging his legs out of bed and sitting up. "I thought it was stress-related and would pass. It is possible my judgment is…impaired."

"Damn right it is," McCoy grumbled. "But we're gonna make you better. We're not sending you to Vulcan or any other place."

Spock looked up at the two of them and realised Jim must have told the Doctor about his nightmare. He had undoubtedly told him about all his other struggles, too. As his medical professional, McCoy had to know, of course, but Spock still felt a certain discomfort about those incidents being known to yet another person.

"I talked to your mother," McCoy said suddenly.

Spock looked at him apprehensively. This was not where he had expected this conversation to go.

McCoy bounced on the balls of his feet, ignoring Jim's all too amused smirk.

"She wants you to know she loves you."

Spock sighed. "Of course, she does…" He gasped suddenly and clutched his chest.

"Are you alright?" Jim asked hurriedly.

Spock shook his head curtly, waving away Jim's helping hand.

"How do you deal with these…feelings?" he whispered through gritted teeth.

McCoy didn't answer but met Jim's smile over Spock's head and put a hand on Spock's shoulder, Jim doing the same on the other side. Leonard chuckled inwardly. He might need to tell Amanda about this. It had been obvious from every encounter they had had how much she loved and adored her son, how proud she was of his accomplishments, and how concerned about his well-being. If a mother's love could be measured, Leonard was sure that Amanda's love for Spock would still be off the scale.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he noticed that Spock was looking past him, into Jim's mirror. He tilted his head and mustered his ears.

"Afraid they'll have turned round?" McCoy teased.

Spock quickly averted his eyes, making it all too clear that something like that had crossed his mind.

"Vanity thy name is Vulcan," McCoy muttered fondly and crossed his arms. "Don't worry, though," he assured Spock, "I think changes to your appearance are highly unlikely. And even if not, any major change would probably have taken months and continued exposure to what's causing this. And you've stopped taking all your supplements, that should have halted the process."
Spock sighed. He was doing a lot of that, lately.

"What if you find my supplements haven't been tampered with?" he asked. "What if the cause of my sickness is internal?" He pursed his lips and said, quietly, "What if it is a birth defect, a natural incompatibility of my Vulcan and human genes?"

McCoy shook his head. "Unlikely. Let's wait for the results first, Chris should be finished soon."

At that moment, the doorbell chimed.

"Speak of the devil," Jim murmured, and Christine entered the cabin at his call to enter.

"I've got results," she said, without preamble.

"And?" Spock asked.

"Your vitamin supplements were drugged," she said triumphantly. "I've already replaced them with new, untainted ones."

She continued to explain that it would take a while for the effects of the poisoning to wear off and that she could not be sure how long. For now, he should continue to take his medicine as needed and hopefully, his genes would repair themselves. She and Leonard would start trying to synthesise a cure, but without knowing the exact effects of the poison on his singular physiology and psychology they would not want to experiment radically. Something made to boost his body's natural healing processes would probably help.

As to the poison that had gotten him into this situation, the examination seemed to indicate an exposure for the last five weeks, since the last time they had docked at a starbase. The dosage of the poison was extremely high. Christine was sure that this had worked in their favour as a lower dosage might have gone undetected for longer and the effects might have been irreversible by the time they had realised.

When she had finished, she leant against the desk, watching Spock carefully. He hadn't reacted yet but was looking intently at the floor, his lips pursed and his hands balled to fists.

"Do you want something?" Christine asked and smirked. "A soup to throw, maybe?"

Spock looked up and raised an eyebrow. "It's been over twenty years, Christine, are you never going to let me live that down?"

"Probably not," she said and shrugged.

Spock stood up abruptly and crossed the room. Stopping next to her, he quickly nodded and murmured, "I wish I had."

Then, he walked towards the door, apparently intent to leave the room.

"Where do you think you're going, Spock?" McCoy grumbled.

"In place of soup, a punching bag will have to suffice," Spock said curtly as the door opened.

"You're not supposed to be alone!"

Spock turned around in the door and answered through gritted teeth. "Well, by all means, come with me."

Jim, Leonard, and Christine followed Spock through the hallways until they had reached the gym. Spock rushed inside, and Jim made to follow but was held back.

"Leave him, Jim," Bones said gently.

Jim acquiesced and leant against the wall next to the two doctors and waited. The three of them waited in silence while from inside, the sounds of a punching bag being battered by someone with thrice the strength of an average human sounded.

Jim didn't know how long they had waited, but after what felt like half an hour, he felt this tantrum needed an intervention.

"I'm going in," he said and turned on his heel to enter the gymnasium.

Bewildered, and worried, he approached the Vulcan at the punching bag. He was hitting the equipment with a ferocity that had made his knuckles bleed and sweat collect on his forehead. Or maybe that was his current illness afflicting him.

Jim stopped next to him. He had never seen Spock in such a state. In all their years, he had seen him lose control yes, but never like this, never out of something rooted in himself. Usually, it had been alien influences, mind-control, and the like. Even if the original cause of his current problem was very much external, Jim was painfully aware that he was seeing some of Spock's own emotions brought to light, exaggerated and uncontrolled, but still, at least partly, his own. And he knew Spock was aware as well, which probably didn't help matters.

"Spock."

Spock didn't react but Jim could see that he could hear him by the way his frown deepened.

"Let it be, Spock, you're gonna hurt yourself."

"Leave me alone!" he snarled.

"No," Jim said simply. "I won't. You know me better than that. I'll leave only if you come with me."

Talking was getting him nowhere, so he reached out to tear Spock away from the punching bag. Normally, it would have been an easy feat for the stronger man to resist, but Spock turned and stumbled. He caught himself and brought up his fist, targeting Jim. His fist stopped just before his nose. Jim had not flinched a bit. He knew he would not strike him.

"Spock…"

He took him gently by the shoulders. Under his hand, he felt the Vulcan's body quivering and heaving up and down as he was breathing hard.

"Jim…" he murmured. And then, his knees buckled suddenly and he fainted into the Captain's arms.

"Bones! Chris!" Jim shouted over his shoulder at the two doctors who had quietly entered behind him.

They were beside him in seconds, as he lowered the unconscious Vulcan to the ground. A dark trickle of blood emerged from his nose. Without thinking, Jim took his sleeve, and wiped it away, staining his uniform green.

"Elevated heart rate, temperature, and pulse," Leonard murmured as he read out the medical scanner. "Stress levels through the roof."

He pressed a hypospray against Spock's arm.

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"Another tranquiliser," McCoy mumbled and scanned the Vulcan again. "Now stabilising. Alright Jim, can you carry him? I want him in sickbay before he can protest."

Jim heaved the unconscious Vulcan over his shoulder, and they made their way to the medbay. Once there, he kept in the background while Christine and Bones were working on him.

He wondered if there was anything he should have done otherwise. But he could not imagine what. He had always preached the importance of venting one's emotions, and he had a feeling this last outburst had been a while in coming, even if the experience had been surprising, not to say plain shocking.

A hand on his arm shook him out of his thoughts.

"He'll be alright," Chapel said. "And he should wake up any moment."

"Thanks, Chris," he said, and moved over to the bed, joining the two doctors at his friend's bedside.

He looked too small, fragile even, with his head rolled on one side, sunk into the pillow. The blanket was pulled up to his breast, and his hands were lying limply on the covers.

Jim sat down and waited.

When Spock woke, he felt disoriented at first, wondering why he was laying down. Then, he remembered and opened his eyes with a groan.

Jim, McCoy, and Christine were standing around his bed. He saw the worry in their eyes and chastised himself for his emotional outburst. Despite the release of emotions generally being considered healthy, he had found that it often hurt the people one cared for. And, more often than not, there were consequences.

The consequences for him were practical, and, he had to agree, logical. Resigned to his fate, propped up on his elbows, he listened as McCoy told him he was under orders to take his tranquiliser regularly from now on, 10ccs in the morning and the evening.

"And you're staying here for tonight," the Doctor grumbled. "You can leave tomorrow, but if you don't take your medicine, I'll keep you here. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Spock mumbled.

"But there's good news as well," Leonard McCoy said, brightening up and sharing a smile with Christine.

"And that is?"

"While you were under, we ran some tests. Turns out the dissolution of your DNA has stopped. That means, hopefully, it'll work itself out over time, and you'll feel better eventually."

"Hopefully," Spock repeated and raised an eyebrow.

"To help your body's healing processes along, I'll try synthesizing a cure," Doctor Chapel said. "It will take a while, though."

"I can do it, Doctor."

Nurse Jenkins had stepped over to them from the other side of the ward.

"No, thank you, Nurse," Chris Chapel answered. "I appreciate that you want to help, but I'll do it myself."

The young nurse nodded briefly and left again without a word.

Spock reclined into his pillow, breathing a small sigh of relief. The good news of his affliction probably being reversible had instilled him with an illogical amount of optimism.

When he felt movement at his side, he realised that both McCoy and Christine had left, and Jim had sat down in a chair next to him.

"You did a very foolish thing," he said softly, smiling gently down at him.

Spock pursed his lips and nodded. "I apologise for my outburst," he said, "I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

"That's not what I meant," Jim murmured. "That's not what I meant at all, but that you've waited so long in the first place to vent your emotions. You mustn't push them down too much, Spock, especially now."

"I don't know what else to do," Spock mumbled. It was obvious that he was worn out by the day's events and the additional tranquiliser.

"Think about it, Spock." He smirked down at him. "But don't think about it too much, you need your sleep."

"You are probably correct. Good night, Jim," Spock said softly.

Jim left the ward, nodding at Christine in passing. Outside, he ran into McCoy.

"He'll be alright, Jim," he said as he saw his face.

"I told you I'm a captain, not a carer," Jim snapped.

"Don't beat yourself up too much," Bones gently chided him, looking past his irritation. "You did okay. And besides, everything you could see as a personal failure might have been due to you having been affected as well."

"Me? Affected?"

Leonard nodded. "You might have been affected as well, because of Spock's reduced capability to control his emotions. He might have broadcast them on accident, at least while you were touching him."

Jim stared at Bones. He hadn't thought of that possibility. "Now that you say that, I'm almost sure he did…I could feel his frustration, his pain."

"That's what I thought," McCoy said. "Don't dwell on it too much, though. It's gonna be alright."

Within the ward, Chris Chapel approached Spock's bed, balancing the tray of food with one hand.

"Soup?" he asked as she placed it next to the bed.

"Oh no," she laughed, "I think I've learned from my past mistakes. It's a salad." She uncovered the plate and handed it to him. "Can you eat on your own?"

"Most certainly," he said indignantly. "I may be compromised, but I'm not an invalid."

Christine sat next to his bed and waited silently while he ate.

He raised an eyebrow at her insistence to stay but finished his salad without complaint about either her hovering or being told to eat. If anything, she had an inkling he did not want to be left alone. But it would have to stay an inkling as he would surely never admit to it.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked as she took the empty plate from him and stood up.

Spock nodded slowly. "Yes, please. A communications channel to Vulcan, and privacy."

"Sure, you can use my office right away. Just turn my workstation off when you're done and go to bed." She looked at him warningly. "When I do my last round, I don't want to find you wandering the hallways."

"I will not wander the hallways then," he said.

"And don't you wander anywhere else at all," she said, just to be sure. "Bed, that's where you'll be. Preferably asleep."

"Yes, Doctor," he sighed. "Good night, Christine, and thank you."

After she had left, he entered her office and accessed the computer. The channel to Vulcan was established in a manner of seconds, and he soon found himself face to face with his mother.

"Spock, what a pleasant surprise," she said. "Are you feeling better?"

"Marginally," he said curtly, "I am spending the night in sickbay, but I am…in good hands."

"I never doubted it." His mother smirked at him through the monitor. "But tell me, is there a specific reason you called?"

"Yes, I…" he stopped and pressed his lips together. "There was something I wanted…I needed to tell you."

Amanda raised an eyebrow in imitation of her son. "What is it, Spock?"

He raised his eyes to the display, met his mother's eyes and told her what had been on his mind since the conversation in Jim's cabin, in three short words.

"Oh, Spock." She blinked a couple of times and smiled. "I love you too."

To be continued...

Poor Spock, I'm sure he never expected to have such an outburst. And neither did his friends. So, someone poisoned him. Is he still in danger? Can his friends keep him safe? We'll find out!