When she woke up, Spock was still there. He had a small stack of PADDS on the floor by his bed, and he was drinking a cup of tea. "Good morning," he said, giving her a nod. "It is 0805. You slept eleven hours, twenty minutes, and three seconds."
Elle stretched until her back popped and sat up. "Can I go now? I feel, like, a lot better."
Spock stood. "That is the province of Dr. McCoy."
"I heard my name?" Bones asked, strolling into the ward. "Good morning, Elle. You look alive again." He took her pulse the old-fashioned way. "How do you feel?"
"Better," she admitted.
"Good, I'm glad."
He let her go under strict instructions to do nothing but eat and take it easy today. "I've left a message with all your teachers today, nothing stressful, no pop quizzes. Instead of Biology class today we'll talk, okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. Now go on, get some breakfast. No coffee."
"Yes sir."
Spock, assured of her good health, left with a quiet nod.
Elle went to the mess hall, ate, and went back to her quarters and showered. It'd been a full day since she collapsed. Most of it, she'd been asleep. And she really did feel a lot better. "You're an idiot," she told her reflection, without heat.
Chekov greeted her with a smile and no judgement. "Today, we are going to do something fun," he said. "Vector calculations." He held up a dartboard. "With practical exercises."
Elle grinned.
When she went to gym, she and an ensign from Security ("I wanted to be a ballerina before I entered Star Fleet") did some low-intensity stretching and then watched a couple music videos to analyze (read as: nitpick) on their choreography.
She did nothing in Engineering but polish spare parts, something that was oddly soothing. Lunch was chicken noodle soup and crackers, and she played Battleship with a Caitian ensign. Then she and Sulu planted thyme seeds in hydroponics.
She and Spock spent ninety minutes watching the Vulcan equivalent of Mythbusters. It was actually really entertaining, watching two earnest Vulcans debate (and prove) whether or not a shuttle could be jumpstarted by potatoes.
Biology class became a long talk about nighttime. McCoy recommended she create a good, relaxing bedtime routine and stick to it so she could look forward to it instead of dread it. And then he showed her the cabin monitors.
"All of the quarters on the ship are equipped with sensors," McCoy said. "They measure the internal life support readings to keep them at your preferred settings. They measure air ionization. And they measure the gases in the air, including carbon monoxide." He patted her hand. "If anything rises above safe levels, alarms go off in both the cabin, security, and medical."
She stared at the sensor readout in front of her. "Okay," she said, and something in her relaxed.
"All right." McCoy glanced at the chronometer. "It's dinner time and after that you and Jim are gonna talk about books. And after that, I expect you to stick to your bedtime routine. But if you can't get to sleep by midnight, 2400 hours, I want you to come to Sickbay and get a light sleep aid, understand? There's a non-habit-forming one that's approved for young teenagers, and there's no shame in needing help to sleep. Okay?"
Elle nodded. "My mom would give me warm milk with cinammon and honey," she said.
McCoy smiled. "Warm milk and a good book. That's as good a remedy as any," he agreed.
"Thanks, Doctor."
Elle ate some pretty good fettucini alfredo and then went to meet the captain in the Observation Deck. After dinner for the Alpha Shift, there were quite a few people scattered about, relaxing and talking in small knots. One person was definitely asleep, taking a nap before they went back on duty.
She found the captain in an alcove with two overstuffed armchairs and a reading lamp.
"Elle," he said, giving her a smile. "Have a good dinner?"
"Yup." She sat across from him.
He handed her a PADD. "Swiss Family Robinson," he said cheerfully. "Ever read it?"
"Nope," she said, swiping to the first page.
"Oh good, this'll be fun. The basic story to Swiss Family Robinson, of a family cast away and managing to thrive, is actually a popular style of literature from the 21st and 22nd centuries as humanity expanded out to the stars."
"So we're reading the original?" Elle asked, smiling.
"You got it." He grinned at her and slumped back into his chair. "You want to read first?"
She shook her head. "You?"
He cleared his throat dramatically, making her snicker, and started, "Chapter One."
They took turns reading for a good forty minutes, and then discussed what they'd covered. There were only a couple words Elle didn't understand, but Kirk helped her figure them out by analyzing the context of the sentences and the root words in the unfamiliar words themselves.
It wasn't until they were both comfortably quiet, staring out the window to the stars, that Kirk brought up yesterday's drama. "I'm sorry. Not just as the captain of this ship responsible for your well-being, but as someone who has been where you are. I'm sorry I didn't realize what you were going through and I didn't even think to check. I'd like to say it was because of the stress of the mission, but I won't make excuses. So, I'm sorry."
Elle shifted uncomfortably. "You had a lot on your plate and I wasn't being very rational either," she said, picking at a seam on her sleeve. "It wasn't your fault, at all." She glanced up at him and then back down, his gaze warming the top of her head. "And, my experience wasn't as bad as yours, so, I don't blame you for that either."
He inhaled sharply. "What do you know about my experiences?" It came out sharper than he'd intended and he winced.
Elle winced, too. Me and my big mouth. "Um, it was, an episode. With the theater group. So I know, and Riley, and yeah. It's classified, isn't it? I won't say anything, I swear."
He gave her an odd look. "You seem to know a great deal of classified information, Elle."
She shrugged sheepishly.
He let it go with only a thoughtful look.
-/\-
McCoy had authorized her quarters for water showers as well as sonic, citing medical reasons.
Elle took a warm shower, put on pajamas, brushed her teeth, and read a book and listened to soft piano music while she drank chamomile tea with honey. Then she went to bed.
She couldn't sleep. She just wasn't tired-she'd taken it maybe too easy, today?
The longer she lay there the more awake she got. Time for Plan B.
Bones had recommended the Kirk Method: walk the ship till you get sleepy and then pass out like a good little human who needs to get up the next day, and in the meantime you get smiles from people.
She put on her shoes and pulled on a sweater over her pajamas. Then she meandered her way through the ship, making sure to go to every corridor of every deck, saying good night to every crewmember she passed. It was theraputic in a way, seeing these Star Fleet officers calmly going about their lives.
She eventually wandered down to the Science Labs, and poked her head into an unlocked one. A familiar blue-shirted Vulcan sat on a stool at the high table, doing something to a row of pipettes.
"Come in, orensu," he said, without turning.
"It's only my third day," she protested. "I haven't really learned anything yet."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Except, apparently, how to speak and understand the basics of the Vulcan language," he said.
She blushed up to her ears. "Your mom told you," she accused.
"She could not lie after I inquired on the topic of your studies with her," he replied.
Of course not.
"Would you like to continue learning the language?" he asked.
She grinned. "Of course!"
"Then we will add study sessions as your schedule and mine permits," he said. "As for now, you should be in bed, Elle."
She sighed. "I know, but I'm not sleepy."
He raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to observe the results of the experiment with me?"
"Totally," she replied.
"Then, as the captain would say, pull up a chair," Spock said dryly.
She dragged over one of the stools and sat on it, leaning her elbows on the table. "So whatcha doin'?"
He explained. Something about chemical reactions in rock samples, or half-lives, or something.
Elle watched him work, carefully adding drops of stuff to the vials of the other stuff, and watched tiny bubbles form and fizz to the top of the tubes. "Aren't you cold?" she asked randomly, after a good half hour of silence.
Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am capable of maintaining optimum internal temperatures for a Vulcan," he replied.
She blinked. "But, like, it's cold in here. For you. Wouldn't you rather turn the heat up?"
"I have grown accustomed to the temperatures the majority of the ship prefers," he replied.
This wasn't a straight answer. "I'm cold," Elle replied, curling into her sweater.
Spock gazed at her steadily for a moment, and then raised his voice. "Computer, raise room temperature five degrees."
The heating kicked in and a wash of warm air blew over them.
Elle could see Spock's shoulders relax a fraction, and she grinned into her sleeve. "Has Captain Kirk installed the heater vent under your console yet?" she asked.
He turned wide eyes on her. "How do you know of this event?" he asked.
"I just do," Elle said, mentally answering, fanfic. And because James T. Kirk is awesome like that.
Spock gave her a suspicious eyebrow and went back to his careful experiment.
Elle, now pleasantly warm, propped her chin on her hand and watched him.
She didn't remember falling asleep.
The next thing she knew, a calm voice was informing her, "Elle, it is time to return to your quarters."
She woke up, barely, and stumbled to her feet, following the science officer in front of her. "Did you finish?" she asked, mumbling the words into her yawn.
"I did," he replied. "You missed the chemical change. The rock solids turned into gas."
"Aw," Elle said, yawning again.
Suddenly they were at her quarters. Spock left her at the door, and Elle stumbled into her cabin. She kicked off her shoes and fell onto the bed, thinking about evaporating rocks.