Sand Pit

Spock was dying.

It was quite ironic, now that he has the time to ponder about it (or the lack of, really). Born in the dry dunes of Vulcan only to die on another with no relation to him or his people. Perhaps it was illogical to believe that they were connected in the first place.

Pain seized his side, so dangerously close to where his slowly beating heart was. Instincts told him to hold the gushing wound to stop the bleeding, but his hand seemed to do nothing; blood continued to flow out of his body. If he weren't immobile, he would have commented about the oddity of finding green in the land of yellows and reds. Spock shifted his head slightly to see the sand to his right, observing the slowly disappearing trail of blood with no real thought in mind.

The suns were hot.

Spock squinted, looking back up at the blue sky. Not a cloud in sight, making both stars in the distance an irritating hindrance. He wished he had some sort of tunic to block it, or maybe some water. He was quite thirsty.

Pain hit him again. Oh yes, progressively dying at the moment. By the way the suns are positioned and how much blood he had lost since the beginnings of his travels from the last town he encountered, Spock calculated that he'll be dead in about an hour. Pity. Perhaps he should have stayed at the last town. Even if it was practically abandoned, there could have been resources that might help him and he was willing to get anything at this point.

Spock picked up his heavy head, having great difficulty when things blurred together for a second before refocusing onto the wound and the jagged blade sticking out of him. It was unique and the design was effective, when the target is stabbed it would be near impossible to remove on its own because of the hook-like rigids grabbing onto the flesh. Spock would know because it hurts quite painfully. Though, he had to take the partial blame for this. Perhaps if the landing party hadn't somehow insulted the new species then they wouldn't have been attacked, which could have granted Mr. Scott more time to beam them correctly and had fixed the complications with the transporter. Though, it was poor execution that Spock happened to be beamed somewhere else completely differently than the Enterprise all without his equipment and with a last minute partying gift from the species that… closely made a special place in his heart.

Another bout of agony swept through his body, snapping him out of the Kirk-ish comment his mind made up.

Kirk. He wondered where the man was. Actually, where was the Enterprise? He couldn't have gone that far, could he? He was still on the same planet, he gathered. Then why had they not arrived? By now, the Captain should have ordered the helm to sweep the area for his Vulcan lifeform and picked him up. The delay was unfortunate. He… He doubts that they will pick him up in time.

Doubt. It is a strange thing. It questions what is fact, what you believe. Without doubt, there is no proof to correct what is wrong. Yet, with doubt, it wavers the mind, brings in thoughts are not needed yet hidden with fear and anxiety. Doubt is there to remind you of reality and the failure of the inevitable.

It hurts to be in this position, to be where he was and with no one to help him.

Spock choked a gasp, his chest tightening at the feeling of blood traveling up his throat and coughing out of his lungs. The suns blurred again, but the reminder of his state sharpened the last piece of strength in him. He looked at the blade, the mask of total calm having disappeared a while back. The weapon hurts so much and with every breath he took felt like thousands of needles pinning him in the heart. Some voice in his head warned him not too, that he will lose too much blood and the remaining 46 minutes will be cut in half; but, he just wants the pain to end!

With determination without thought, Spock grabbed the brown handle and yanked as hard as he could. A scream of pure agony tore out of his throat. It felt like fire was consuming him, like the world was punishing him for whatever he had done. He pulled again with whatever he had left, but it barely even lifted the skin and another wail erupted from him. The blade was staying there whether he liked it or not. His arm dropped against the sand, stained with emerald blood.

Spock forgot how much time had passed. All he could do was stare at the suns now and the empty sky. Oh how he hated the scene. Nothing there but his misery. The heat began to tan his skin a little, the sand below him blistering his neck and hands. It was now did he wish he was a full blooded Vulcan so he wouldn't be affected like this.

It was extremely hard to breathe now and he could have sworn that there were missing pieces of his memory. The wound, if he didn't move, just felt like a dull ache now. Spock couldn't believe it. He's finally at some sort of peace.

" Spock, dear…" He couldn't lift his head fast enough. Spock's groggy eyes cracked open, narrowing at the sight of a woman standing a few feet from him. She wore a tunic and had the most familiar smile and voice. When he shifted, igniting another flare of pain, Spock realized who it was.

"Mother." The call was merely a whisper as his body dropped down again. Whoever or whatever it was is gone now. A mirage, the last bit of functioning logic told him. It wasn't real. And somehow, this revelation hurt worse.

His body shook with sudden emotion. Control failed him and the human thoughts he attempted to repress came rushing back. Spock wasn't going to survive this. He was going to die! And no one was the wiser.

"Mother…" It began as a whisper again. Spock's lip quivered as he begged the wind for at least a familiar face in his last moments. "Mother. Mother!" His voice became progressively louder, the same call croaking as wails tore out of the Vulcan. "MOTHER! MOTHER! MOTHER! MOTHER! MOTHER!"

Spock wasn't sure when he closed his eyes but when he reopened them he realized that he was in sickbay on the Enterprise. A wave of pleasure washed over him and made him sigh in relief. He looked down, noting that he was standing and in perfect health. There was no a speck of blood on his ever pristine blue uniform.

"Bring him back, Bones! He can't die on us now!"

Spock frowned ever so slightly as he slowly turned around where he promptly paused.

Jim was shouting at McCoy, who was equally spouting profanities as they both hovered over a patient on a biobed. The figure was deathly still and the heart monitor showed that it was very close to flat lining. They looked at peace, almost like they were deaf to the world and the chaos surrounding them.

Spock approached the biobed so he was at the feet, gazing down upon himself with a sense of unusual calm. His hand gripped the edge of the bed, which did nothing in the real world. Dead but not quite, he supposed. On the verge of it as it seems. Based on the frantic movements slowing ever so slightly from the doctor, it wouldn't be long.

"Let me see him! Let me see him! Where is he?!" Spock turned at the furious shouts coming from the entrance. Uhura came bursting in right then, startling Kirk slightly and making McCoy curse even louder. The woman brushed past Spock in a haste to approach the biobed where his duplicate lay, only to freeze and gasp at the sight. Tears weld in her eyes as she gazed down at his prone body then at the vital monitor. "Oh God…"

"We found him in the middle of the desert. One of those Certar people managed to impale him before he was sent off to somewhere else," Jim grimly explained, though the lingering hiss in his voice was enough to tell the room how he thought about the species. "Lost a load of blood there and kinda kicked the bucket there if Bones didn't restart his heart in a knick of time."

"What do you think is going to happen to him?" Uhura questioned the doctor.

McCoy sighed heavily. "I don't know damn it! Just- … give me time! I can't perform damn miracles."

"Well we need one," Jim muttered. At that next second, Uhura collapsed in sobs. Just as she tried to cover it up, the Captain was by her side and bringing her into an embrace while whispering encouraging things to keep hope alive. "Hey, he hasn't given up yet and you shouldn't either."

Spock looked between the two then returning his gaze to his unmoving corpse. His fist tightened on the railing and, just before he could do anything else, Spock felt a presence behind him, something much warmer than the coldness that he was feeling right now. Turning back once again, his eyes widened this time at the image of his mother clearly standing away from him. Her smile made him do the same. His foot stepped toward her inviting stance until-

His hand kept ahold on the railing. Spock stopped, frowning as he looked at the friends worriedly hoping for some good news. He then gazed back at the woman, looking very hesitant before returning to his position by the bed. Amanda nodded once, a proud smile displaying on her face as she stepped forward and cupped her hands against his face. Her eyes seemed to tell him an important thing: it wasn't his time to go. When he blinked, she was gone.

"Well, if I'll be! His heart rate is goin' back up!"

Spock reverted his gaze to Uhura, stepping forward to hover over her. He whispered into her ear, ignoring how she furrowed her eyebrows a few seconds after, before he stood beside his prone body.

"Rise and shine, buddy," Jim smiled warmly the moment he opened his eyes, standing off to the side with McCoy as Nyota sat beside the biobed. "You gave us a fright."

"Damn tootin'," Leonard muttered, reviewing stats on his PADD. "You nearly bled to death, get stabbed by a serated blade, suffered from deprivation, and got your wound infected."

"I apologize," Spock whispered, his throat feeling as though it had been ripped to shreds.

"Well, you're stayin' here 'til I'm sure you are at 110%. I don't want to risk yer wound splittin' open. Now get some rest, you have a lot of healin' up to do." The doctor ushered the Captain out, throwing one last look at Uhura. "Keep an eye on 'im. Don't let 'im walk around or I swear I'll tie you both to the biobed."

When they left, Uhura tackled the Vulcan into a hug. After stiffening at the touch of his still fresh wound, he gathered her into his arms, pressing his face into her hair and whiffing the scent that paired with her. His eyes watered as he felt her quiver in his grip.

"I love you too, Spock."

And then, he cried.

End.