Welcome back. Here we go again. Spock's friends continue to take care of him. But is the enemy closer than they thought?

That night, Spock awoke to the sensation of being watched. Sleepily, he blinked into the darkness of sickbay.

A shadow hovered over him, and in the dim light of various medical devices, he saw a slim hand holding a hypospray, raised above his arm. He turned his head towards the figure standing next to his bed.

"Christine?" he asked. He couldn't see her face and wondered why she was standing silently over him in the middle of the night. But his thoughts felt sluggish and he could feel himself falling asleep again.

Then, steps sounded from McCoy's office, the figure turned abruptly and hurried out of the room.

"Chris? Are you in there?"

Doctor McCoy entered and slowly walked over to his bed.

"Have you been wandering around in here?" he murmured as he noticed Spock was more or less awake.

Spock shook his head. "I think it was Doctor Chapel," he mumbled. "She left."

McCoy grunted sceptically. "Hm, that woman should be asleep. As should you."

"I am trying," Spock protested weakly. "Why are you still awake?"

"Fell asleep in my office," he grumbled. "And someone's gotta wake over you."

Spock didn't stay awake long enough to learn whether McCoy succeeded, for he fell asleep again seconds after the Doctor had sat down next to him.

Christine Chapel entered the ward in the early morning, making a beeline for Spock's bed. She smiled down at him. He was still asleep, and his usually immaculate hair was ruffled and stood up in the back.

Christine shook her head fondly, went into her office, and returned with her comb. After just a small moment of hesitation, she bent over Spock to gently untangle his hair.

He frowned in his sleep, sighed softly and opened his eyes.

"Again?" he murmured, raising one brow.

"Again? I haven't done this before," Christine answered, wondering if Spock was tired, confused, delusional, or all of those.

"You were here tonight, were you not?" Spock said. "Standing over my bed with a hypospray?"

"I was in my cabin, asleep." She furrowed her brow, and murmured, "Leonard asked me the same thing."

Spock nodded. "He came in because he thought it was me wandering around."

"Well, someone was wandering around." She shook her head and tapped the comb against her chin while thinking. "I don't like the sound of this. Good thing you'll return to your cabin today, under supervision."

She'd talk to Leonard about this, later. There might be no cause for worry, but someone standing over Spock in the middle of the night, and hurrying away before they could be seen seemed suspicious, in light of the circumstances.

"Well, if you sit up, I can do the other side," she said.

"The other side?"
"Of your head. The one you're lying on. But only if you don't mind. And don't let Leonard know about this."

Spock nodded and sat up.

"Why should Leon…Dr McCoy not know you are de-tangling my hair?"

"He'd take too much delight in it." She chuckled good-naturedly.

In actuality, she did not mind terribly if Leonard knew or not. Spock was old enough to say if he wanted this or not.

"Judging from your reaction, it is you who is enjoying this too much," Spock said, with a faint smirk. "Well, why not? You may proceed."

Christine smiled to herself as she continued combing his hair.

Sure, he probably would have managed this by himself, but she liked to employ a hands-on approach with her patients, and care for some of their requirements that went above her prescribed duty. Anything to make them more comfortable.

And if Spock did not say anything against it, on the contrary, told her to continue with her ministrations, it seemed like a sure-fire proof that he was not alright, and needed care.

Hours later, Jim came to pick Spock up. He brought him to his cabin and told him Scotty would look in momentarily while Jim followed his other duties. When Mr Scott came, Jim left, and some hours later, Scott was replaced by Commander Uhura. His friends seemed to have developed a system for keeping him supervised while he had been out of commission, a realisation that both imbued him with a generous dose of gratitude, and a feeling of embarrassment.

Some days passed like this. He would spend each day in his cabin, always in the presence of at least one of his friends. At night, Jim stayed with him.

He still found it difficult to accept that he was, for the foreseeable future, not to be left out of sight. He saw the logic in it; an attempted poisoning having taken place, the perpetrator roaming the ship, and his health unreliable, all led to the conclusion that it was better to have someone nearby at all times. But that did not mean he didn't try getting rid of this nannying system, as McCoy had called it.

"I am sure I can be left alone, Jim," he said one evening after half a week of this. "I will manage."

Jim sat down next to him on the bed with a deep sigh. "Spock. I know you don't want to hear this, but you only feel better at the moment because you've stopped taking the poison and you're forced to take your medicine to treat the symptoms. We haven't yet managed to eradicate the cause of this. You're still too…vulnerable." He sighed again and smiled softly up at Spock. "Besides, we've taken care of you to the point that you simply did not get a chance to get lost or overexert yourself. And it'll stay like that for a while."

"Very well, Jim," Spock said contritely.

But to Jim's relief, he did not seem extremely put out about the care inflicted upon him. If anything, he seemed strangely content; he was feeling safe, as Bones had put it. And there was something else Jim noticed. He seemed happy. In his normal state, he did not seem unhappy, but he also did not seem overly happy. And now, Jim could see a real smile forming on his friend's face, a human smile but still very much Spock's.

Of course, Jim would not tell him about these observations. He would probably retreat, reign in these positive manifestations of his emotional vulnerability. And Jim wanted him to experience it without judgment. If he had to go through the negatives of his situation, he should get a chance to enjoy the positives as well.

If Jim was being honest with himself, there was an additional upside to all this care. It was a chance for giving back. How often had Spock risked his life, literally given his life, and willingly sacrificed his wellbeing for the welfare of his crew and friends? Jim honestly did not know. But he did know that now Spock was at his weakest and most vulnerable and helpless point, he deserved all the care and affection his friends were willing and able to give. Just as Spock was always willing to give everything he had for their good. To Jim, this trade sounded quite logical. Or that was how he'd explain it to Spock. In essence, it came down to human sentiment, the feeble wish to show him how much they all cared for him. And he dared to think it worked, and he knew.

Spock did know. And after a small moment of mortification after being faced with the amounts of love his friends showered him in, he had allowed himself to give in to that show of care. More than that, he permitted himself to relish in it. Ultimately, it was no surprise to see the depths of his friends' devotion; it was, after all, the basis of many of their past adventures.

But despite the continued supervision and presence of his friends, he found another motion stirring within him. Boredom. He was bored. Sitting around in his cabin all day, restricted to the minimal choice of activities there was taking its toll.

He said as much to Uhura when she replaced Hikaru Sulu one afternoon, five days after his last visit to sickbay.

"Well, why didn't you say so earlier?" she exclaimed.

"I had assumed I was confined to quarters."

"I don't believe anyone ever said so," she murmured and smirked down at him. He was sitting at his desk and she had been leaning against the support strut in the middle of the room.

"Come on, then," she said and moved towards the door. "And bring your lyre, we're going out today."
"Going out to where?" he asked, but stood up, grabbed his lyre and followed her out of the room.

She linked her arm in his, just to be sure, and said, "Well, to the recreation deck, of course."

He raised his eyebrow, unsure if this went along with Dr McCoy's orders for his safety, but let himself be tugged along. Nyota Uhura was more than capable of defending herself and other people if it came to it.

Exiting the lift for the observation deck, they almost bumped into Nurse Jenkins.

"Oh, hello, sir," she stammered, "are you fully recovered so soon?"
"Not quite, but I am on my best way there," he said. "Whoever tainted my supplements did their job well."

Jenkins' eyes widened. "Oh. Well, I'm glad you're better. Sir." She nodded at him and entered the lift, her blonde, curly hair bouncing around her head as she turned.

"She's smitten with you," Uhura snickered as the doors had closed.

"Smitten?"

"Smitten, enamoured, infatuated. I think she has a crush on you."
Spock arched one eyebrow at her as they walked on. "I highly doubt it."

"She seemed pretty concerned about your health."

"That is part of her job. She is a nurse."

"Yes, but not how she asked," Uhura went on, then sighed. "Does she remind you of anyone?"

"Doctor Chapel," Spock said instantly, thinking about the young nurse's hair and her sparkling blue eyes. He turned to Uhura. "But I do not see what the resemblance has to do with…Oh."

"Yes. Oh," Uhura said, grinning as she thought she saw a hint of green flicker over his face.

He pursed his lips and regarded her with a questioning gaze. "I trust you are not making a joke at Christine's expense, and her infatuation with me during the five-year mission."

"Oh, no. No, I'm not! She's my friend, I'd never do that. And you know that." She looked up at Spock, whose features relaxed again. "You are concerned about what other people say about her."

Spock sighed. "Of course, I am. We are…friends. And the events of the five-year mission, and whatever we did or didn't do or feel, does not influence the regard I have for her. It never did."

He blushed again, slightly, but noticeable for Uhura. She tightened her hand on his arm and smiled to herself.

"Of course," she murmured, and decided to drop the topic, as they walked through the doors to the recreation deck.

They spent some quiet but companionate hours there, with Mr Scott and Chekov joining them after Uhura had coerced Spock to play his lyre. Otherwise, the room was nearly deserted, with only a couple of ensigns mingling in the corners.

"Do ye take requests?" Scott asked after Spock had finished playing 'Beyond Antares' and Uhura had finished singing.

"It depends what you are asking for," Spock said.

"Somethin' Scottish," he said and beamed. "Can ye play anythin' Scottish?"

Spock raised one eyebrow and thought for a moment. "I can play 'Amazing Grace'," he said and began to play the first couple of chords. To his surprise, they looked everything but pleased. Chekov choked on his drink, Uhura rolled her eyes, and Scotty looked at him agape.

"Not 'Amazin' Grace'!"

"Whyever not? Is it not Scottish?"

"It's Scottish alright. But it's also a funeral dirge."

"And?" Spock's eyebrow rose higher, he did not seem to understand.

"It was played at your funeral, Mr Spock," Pavel said, "by Mr Scott, on sackpipes."

"It's 'bagpipes', laddie," Scott growled at Chekov, who smirked innocently. "Surely you remember, Mr Spock?" he asked.

"You are asking me if I remember my own funeral," Spock said, acknowledging the absurdity of his experience, then nodded. "I do. Faintly. From Dr McCoy's perspective. I do not remember much, as the time was most distressing. I did not know 'Amazing Grace' would trigger those memories."

"Well, if ye must, play it," Mr Scott grumbled. "It just seems forbidden, a man playing his own funeral music."

"The probability of that happening is not as low as you might wish. We might all, in the course of our lives play or listen to our own funeral music," Spock said.

"But not after the fact!" Scott said.

"Naturally, no." Spock nodded. "It is statistically unlikely to play one's own funeral music after the burial." He raised an eyebrow and shot Scott a smug look. "As far as I am informed, I am the only one who could do that."

"Well, if ye must," Scotty repeated and frowned at Spock, taken aback by the unusually merry behaviour. Possibly another by-effect of his current affliction.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him and turned his attention back to his harp. For a moment, Scott thought he would, indeed, return to the funeral song. But then Spock began playing and Scott recognised 'Flower of Scotland'.

"Nicely done!" he said when Spock has finished. That's better than a funeral tune. Ye don't know any more, do ye?"

"I know 'Auld Lang Syne'," Spock said.

"Well, why didn't ye play that before?"

Spock cocked his head. "It isn't fitting to the occasion. It is a traditional New Years' song."

"Oh, so 'Auld Lang Syne' isn't fitting to the occasion, but a funeral song is?" Uhura asked, grinning wickedly.

"That was not what I intended to imply," Spock said.

Chekov shrugged haphazardly and said, "Well, as the old Russian proverb says, the road to hell…"

"…is paved with good intentions," Spock finished, to Pavel's astonishment. "I do not need to tell you that its origin is hardly Russian."

When it was getting late, Uhura brought Spock back to his cabin, ready for McCoy to take over for the evening.

"Now wasn't that nice?" she said. "It doesn't do you well, to sit around in your cabin with nothing fun to do."

"Fun is seldom my objective," Spock said.

"It's showing," Uhura murmured, ignoring Spock's bemused look. "All I'm saying is, don't feel lonely."

"I did not say I was feeling lonely."

"You did not say it," she said and shot him a pointed look as they walked into his quarters.

He decided, for his own sake, not to take the bait and remained silent. He put the harp into its accustomed place and sat on his bed.

Uhura and he waited in companionable silence for McCoy to arrive, which he did after mere minutes, carrying a tray. Uhura bade them goodbye and left, and Dr McCoy placed the tray of food on Spock's desk.

"What is that?" Spock asked.

"Dinner," McCoy said. "I made beans."
"Ah, the family recipe," Spock said and accepted the plate the Doctor offered him. "Including the secret ingredient, I assume?"

"Just a little bit. But I brought some extra," he said and placed the bottle of whiskey on the desk next to the tray, along with two glasses.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him over his plate, but said nothing, and started eating.

Leonard watched Spock while they ate. He noticed with approval that Spock seemed more relaxed than just yesterday. But it was still obvious at a glance that he was not back to his normal self, even if Spock probably did not know just how obvious it was to his friends. The smile with which he had accepted the beans was just one of the many things Leonard had noticed lately that were unusual for Spock, at least at that frequency.

When they had finished eating, Leonard stood up and filled the two glasses of whiskey. He handed Spock one of them in exchange for the empty plate.

"So, tell me what you were up to today. Scotty told me you went to the recreation deck."
"With Commander Uhura, yes." He proceeded to tell McCoy as much about the events of the day as would fulfil the requirement for human small-talk, emptying his whiskey in between.

"Next time we go camping, you'll have to play 'Oh My Darling Clementine'," the Doctor said as he refilled his glass.

"If you insist on it, I will," Spock said.

Leonard grinned. "Oh, I insist."

Spock nodded and turned his attention back to his glass. "Are you sure this is wise?" he asked, eying the whiskey in his hand.

McCoy shrugged. "Probably not."

Spock raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm not here as your doctor, but as your friend," McCoy said. "I just wanted to have a drink with you."

Spock nodded. "You are a good friend, Leonard. I'm glad you're here."

"Are you alright, Spock?" McCoy asked, chuckling awkwardly.

"Of course, I am alright," Spock said obliviously. "That is the goal of caring for me, is it not? And you are doing a good job. You always have." He paused to smile over at him. "I am glad you're here with me," he repeated.

Leonard shook his head and frowned slightly at Spock. "You're out of your mind!" he said, without thinking. It had been said out of surprise, and he noticed immediately that it had been the wrong thing to say.

Spock's demeanour changed in an instant.

"Very perceptive, Doctor," he said bitterly and set the empty glass on his desk with a thud. "But do not fret, I'll be back to my cold, unemotional self in no time."

McCoy realised that telling Spock he was out of his mind had probably been a decidedly unfortunate thing to say, considering.

"Spock, I... "

"That is what you call me sometimes, isn't it?" Spock went on.

"Well, it's not like I mean it, you idiot!" He met Spock's gaze and they both sighed. "Not always, anyway," McCoy added with a smirk.

"Well, I meant it," Spock said quietly.

McCoy cleared his throat. "Well, I better put this away before I say something I regret."

He closed the bottle of alcohol and put it aside.

"You already did," Spock said.

"Well, I'm sorry, Spock," McCoy said earnestly. "You tried to say something nice and didn't deserve for me to react like that."

"Yes, that much is true," Spock said and raised an eyebrow at him.

McCoy could hear the slight reproach in his voice but also knew that he had been forgiven.

When Jim came to relieve McCoy for the night, he immediately spotted the whiskey.

"I see you've had fun."

"No," McCoy grumbled, on his way to the door.

"Yes," Spock said.

They exchanged a look and Leonard burst out laughing, to Jim's shock.

"I never know with you two," he said. "Have you been arguing?"

"Yes," Leonard admitted.

"No," Spock said.

"Good night, Spock," McCoy murmured, still smirking, "Night, Jim."

Jim turned on Spock when Bones had left. "Have you been arguing? I've seen the look on Bones' face. It's how he looks when he has a guilty conscience."

"The Doctor had a strong emotional reaction," Spock said.

"Well, clearly. To what?"

"To something I had said," Spock said matter-of-factly.

Jim shook his head, accepting that Spock would do nothing to satisfy his curiosity.

"Uhura told me you've been bored," he said. "We can't have that, can we?" He waited for Spock to look at him before telling him of his plan. "I'm taking you to the bridge tomorrow. You're still not on duty, but I think you might like some change of scenery."

Spock nodded. "Thanks, Jim, I do."

He seemed to look forward to tomorrow, more than his short words of thanks could say, but Jim understood. For people like them, who built their lives around the service, it was hard to stand by and watch life happen around them.

Jim said good-night to Spock and after the Vulcan had laid down in bed, sat at his desk for while, finishing his work of the day. When he was done, he turned around, only to notice that Spock was fast asleep already. The hypo of tranquiliser he was supposed to take lay forgotten on the desk. Shaking his head fondly, Jim took the hypospray and injected Spock with it, before he, too, retired to bed.

To be continued...

I hope you had a bit of fun reading them spend time with each other. Let's see what the next day brings...