Chapter Three
McCoy walked into Sickbay and stopped dead in his tracks. His jaw dropped in astonishment. "What the HELL?"

Sickbay was a disaster area. All the delicate equipment was smashed and lying in pieces near the walls. The walls themselves were dented and scorched, as if burning debris had slammed into them. Kirk was still lying on the biobed on his side, unmoving. His back was turned toward McCoy, so the doctor couldn't see if he was awake or not.

McCoy slowly walked over to the biobed and glanced up at the monitor, noting with satisfaction that the level of kironide had finally stopped increasing. However, the negitive signs had become more obvious. Kirk's skin was bright pink with fever, and he was sweating heavily. Now close to his friend, McCoy could hear the irregular, rasping breaths that signaled a respiratory infection.

McCoy reached out to touch Kirk lightly on the arm, then drew back as he felt the burning heat rising like waves from Kirk's body. He was abruptly reminded of the hallucinating Parmen, hurting people and creating a whirlwind of dangerous objects in his delirium. After a moment's consideration, he decided to leave Kirk alone. In his condition, there was no telling what he might do.

~~~~~~~

Kirk was lost in the darkness, drowning in a red sea of pain and fire. He floundered helplessly, struggling wildly to escape from this hellish place. He was alone.

Alone.

ALONE...

"NO!" he screamed, and the shattering echo reached out to the farthest reaches of the sea of pain. Not a soul answered him. "Bones! Spock! Someone, help me!"

A feather-light touch, like the brush of snowflakes against his skin, came from the dark waters. "Jim, you are not alone. Listen to me, Jim. You must get well. You must. You are not alone."

Kirk thrashed, trying to locate the source of the voice. "Where are you? Can't find you...don't leave me! Please!" His voice was that of a lost child, crying out in the dark, alone.

"I am here, Jim. You must be calm, I am here. I will not leave you." A cool hand rested on his brow, soothing the pain there. "Rest, Jim. I will be here, always."

~~~~~~~

Spock watched his captain move restlessly, deep in fever and delirium. He held one of Kirk's hands, transmitting coolness and a feeling of safety to his friend. He had been sitting at Kirk's bedside for exactly two point three six hours, witness to Kirk's rising fever. He had attempted to use Vulcan mind techniques to control the temperature, but Kirk was resisting.

McCoy stood at his shoulder. "Any luck?" the weary doctor asked.

Spock shook his head slightly. "He has rejected the healing trance each time I have attempted to induce it. He is lost, Doctor McCoy. Lost and alone. He does not understand." He was silent for a few minutes, watching Kirk sleep. "Have you determined what is wrong with him?"

McCoy sighed explosively. "No, dammit. He's just sick, for no reason at all. Can you sense anything helpful from him?"

Spock closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, squeezing Kirk's hand. Then he slowly shook his head. "I cannot get through to him. He hears, but he does not understand."

The situation remained unchanged for hours. Spock kept his vigil at Kirk's side, and McCoy went over the results of his tests again and again. No change. No answers.

~~~~~~~

Kirk awoke in darkness, disoriented and confused. A dull pounding filled the air, and a small red light kept flashing. Something was holding his arm immobile, and for a moment he struggled to get free.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he almost sighed in relief. The noise and the light were the heartbeat monitor of the biobed. The restraint on his arm was Spock's hand, and as Kirk looked over he saw the Vulcan in a chair next to the bed. His friend held Kirk's hand in an iron grip, while the other arm was being used as a pillow at the edge of the biobed. Deep, even breathing indicated that the Vulcan was fast asleep, and Kirk was very careful not to move any more and wake him up.

Kirk raised his head slightly and looked around. Sickbay was dark, with only a dim light coming from McCoy's office. A slight rumbling came from the room, and Kirk almost laughed out loud as he recognized the noise as the doctor's snores. So Spock wasn't the only one who was worried about him, eh? They really need to learn what a bed is for, Kirk thought, amused.

Having evaluated his friends, he turned his attention to his own physical condition. By squinting upwards, he could just barely make out the readings on the overhead diagnostic panel. Temperature slightly higher than normal, pulse a bit erratic, but that was all. Frowning, he replayed his most recent memories. Hmm. What kind of gravity whip am I riding, here? Perfectly fine one moment, feverish the next...damn. I hate this.

Kirk sighed and stared at the ceiling, listening to his heartbeat and the soft sound of Vulcan breathing. He wasn't tired, but then again it wasn't daytime either. He knew he should be sleeping, but he'd been out all day and wasn't tired at all. Besides, he hadn't been in contact with the bridge for quite a while.

The bridge...Kirk looked down at Spock's hand again. There was no way he could get that Vulcan to let go without waking him, and Kirk wasn't about to deny his friend much-needed rest. He looked across the room at the nearest wall comm unit, nearly four meters away. Dammit. I can't get to that without getting up, and then I'd either wake up Spock with my movement or I'd wake up both Spock and Bones when those medical monitors start wailing.

And then he had a sudden revelation. James Tiberious, you can be so STUPID at times, he thought to himself. Closing his eyes to aid in concentration, he cautiously opened his mental barriers again.

This time, no chaotic whirlwind of minds greeted him. Many of the sensations were drowsy and indistinct, indicating sleep or near-sleep. But up near the bridge, the night shift was awake and at their posts.

Kirk's consciousness flew up to the bridge like a leaf in the wind, scattering across the deck. He picked up the mental patterns of Arex, sitting in the command chair. But Arex was not the one he was looking for.

Kirk focused on the starboard side of the bridge, homing in on the felinoid signature of M'ress, the night shift communications officer. The Caitian woman was bored. Well, time to give her something to do.

Kirk focused on projecting his voice through the speaker. "Kirk to bridge," he said with mind-voice.

M'ress started slightly, and her tail twitched. She delicately tapped a button with one claw. "Brrrridge," she purred. "M'rrrress here. What can I do forrrr you, Captain?"

"Just a status report, please."

"Cerrrrtainly, Captain," M'ress mewled. "The ship is en rrrroute to Starrrrbase Twenty, ETA thrrrree days. Starrrrfleet Command sent a message forrrr you earrrrlier, but they werrrre informed that you werrrre unavailable. Admirrrral Fitzpatrrrrick wishes to speak with you at yourrrr earrrrliest convenience."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Is there anything else?"

"No, sirrrr."

"Very well, carry on. Kirk out."

Kirk withdrew his psychic touch, feeling a bit nervous about what he had done. This psycho-kinetic power was getting too easy to wield. It was almost second nature, now.

"Captain." The low, quiet voice startled him as it came abruptly from the darkness.

Kirk looked over and saw Spock, silently watching him. "How long have you been awake?" Kirk asked, voice hushed.

"Approximately fifteen seconds, Captain." Spock looked concerned. "How are you feeling?"

Kirk threw him an annoyed glance. "You know damn well how I'm feeling. What time is it?"

"It is 0428 hours. Doctor McCoy and I have been concerned for you. The good doctor did not believe that you would recover from your illness so quickly, nor did he expect you to regain consciousness within this timeframe."

"Sorry to disappoint him." Kirk slowly sat up, strangely uneasy. There was a dull ache deep inside his stomach, and he decided not to stand up. He nodded his head in the direction of McCoy's office, where the snoring got even louder, if anything. "He's been there all night?"

"Affirmative. Doctor McCoy was loath to leave you in case your condition worsened. I must confess, I felt the same way."

Kirk couldn't resist. "Isn't concern a human emotion, Mister Spock?"

"It is indeed, Captain," Spock replied, completely serious. "It is one of many emotions that you have brought to me. Captain...Jim. Please try to understand. During these past two years on this vessel, I have felt concern and fear for you as you recklessly throw yourself in front of danger at every opportunity. On Platonius, your decision to induce psycho-kinesis was alarming, and your escalation of power was equally frightening. I fear that one day, your affinity to injury will cause an untimely death."

Kirk was startled by his friend's words. Could Spock truly have felt this way all these years and not told anyone? He gave Spock's hand a squeeze. "Don't worry, Spock. I'm still here. I'm fine."

"Jim...that will not always be so."

Both of them were silent for a long time. The darkened room reflected their moods; dark, brooding, and filled with fear.

An eerie silver glow began to settle around Kirk, and he gasped involuntarily as the glinting mist wrapped around his arm. "Spock..."

Spock's eyes were immediately riveted on the silver aura. He watched it shimmer and drift around Kirk's arm, spreading across his chest and wrapping around his other arm. Kirk twitched as it moved, watching it with eyes filled with fear.

The silver cloud abruptly halted, and quickly gathered around Kirk's head. It swirled around like a tornado for a few moments, then abruptly shattered into billions of pieces and faded away.

And Kirk screamed.