The Mark of Gideon

Captain Kirk sighed wearily as he figited uncomfortably in his chair and tried to stretch, grimacing at the stiffness he felt in his neck and the painful pins and needles the movement sent tingling down his spine. He really wasn't feeling very well. He'd been feeling somewhat under the weather all day, but now the mild headache he'd woken up with that morning had become a painful pulsating sensation which gnawed at his temples and he had to resist the temptation to squeeze his eyes shut against the bright lights on the Bridge, and the communication panel in front of him - which only seemed to be compounding his present agony. He felt a chill run through his bones, but as he reached up with one slightly shaking hand to run it across his forehead, he wiped away the beads of sweat which had started to gather there, feeling the heat radiating from his skin, and he knew that he had spiked a fever. A wave of fear gripped him, squeezing his heart and delivering a punch to his stomach - where he was already beginning to feel a mild ache. He tried to change position in a bid to get comfortable but his hips had started to ache, his legs felt like jelly and it became easier for him to remain where he was, despite the pain his present position was causing him. He suspected that it was a futile pursuit anyhow, any relief he was able to gain was only likely to be temporary.

He'd woken up that morning feeling weak and achey, but hadn't considered anything of it. It certainly hadn't been anything he couldn't work through and he'd thought at worst he had probably contracted a common virus - in all liklihood during one of the surface missions the crew had been tasked with during the past week. They visited so many new, some previously unexplored, planets, and came into contact with so many viruses and different types of bacteria that occasional outbreaks of illness amongst the crew aboard the Enterprise were not unusual - most were mild and not serious in nature. He had taken a couple of painkillers he'd had left over in a small bottle McCoy had prescribed him a few weeks before for a particularly stubborn headache, and headed towards the Bridge to start the alpha shift, looking forward to the pain pills doing their job, and planning on taking his mind off the pain by throwing himself into work. It had worked initially, but as his condition had deteriorated over the past couple of hours he had started to feel a creeping sense of dread. As his headache had also turned to dizziness and the mild muscle aches had spread into both his arms and down his legs a flicker of recognition caused a spark of anxiety. He recalled the similar symptoms experienced in his youth - and he knew he would have to try and make his way to sickbay before his condition got any worse. He was already starting to feel somewhat nauseous.

Two days before he had been held captive by the Gideon Ambassador, his blood had been drawn to synthesise a serum of vegan choriomeningitis, which had been injected into the Ambassador's daughter. It was an illness which had almost killed Jim a number of years before, but it was also one he'd thought himself unable to catch again. Even so the symptoms were unmistakable.

"Are you quite alright Captain?" A familiar voice asked beside him, and as he opened his eyes - not even aware of the fact he'd closed them - he realised that he'd been slumped forwards in his chair, his head resting like a lead boulder in his hands. It was a position which did little to eleviate the stiffness in his neck.

He wanted to reassure Spock that he was fine - that he was just a little tired - but he knew that would be inadvisable in his present condition. There was a time for stoicism, and then there was not - and if Kirk's suspicions were correct this was not one of those times - he knew he was going to need help getting to sickbay. Without even thinking he shook his head to let his friend know that he was not and regretted it immediately. Even this slight movement caused a wave of pain to shoot through his back, and he shuddered.

"No Spock." He told him in a voice which was strained with the pain and barely more than a whisper in a bid to avoid the rest of the crew overhearing. "I'm afraid I'm not feeling too good..." He confessed, "and... my neck is stiff."

"I see." The Vulcan said, with a comprehending raise of both eyebrows, and his mouth set in a grim line to convey his understanding of the seriousness of what the Captain had just told him. In light of what had transpired on Gideon two days before he knew that the potential implications could be grave. "In that case I think it would be advisable if we get you to sickbay so that Doctor McCoy can take a look at you. Do you think you can walk?" He asked him.

"I can try." Was Kirk's shaky response, hoping that he could and not relishing the thought of the alternative if he tried and found that he could not. He realised that he hadn't even attempted to stand since first noticing the pain in his back, and there was now a strange numb sensation trickling like ice down the back of both of his legs. "I have a bad headache and my back hurts." He told him, deciding to omit the fact of the dizziness and his worsening nausea, in case his First Officer and friend decided to bypass the courtesy of trying to preserve his dignity and call Doctor McCoy directly to the Bridge.

Spock nodded, taking the Captain gently by the elbow and helping him to his feet. His legs shook badly as he tried to stand and he had to grab onto the arm of his chair to stop himself from falling. He was surprised by how weak he felt. Even the effort of standing seemed to have sapped what little energy he had and he struggled to take his first steps - gingerly putting one tentative foot in front of the other and feeling his knees almost buckle beneath him - but he was determined to try. Spock waited for him to give the order to Mr Sulu to take over, but when the words didn't come he seemed to sense that Jim was having to concentrate all of his remaining energy into keeping himself on his feet, and calmly took over - giving it to the man himself. The Captain had left it too long before seeking help, but there was no trace of the urgency of the situation in Spock's voice as he spoke.

"Mr Sulu, you have the comm." He told the helmsman, already propelling Kirk firmly towards the liftshaft. "The Captain and I have something urgent to discuss with Doctor McCoy in sickbay."

Kirk felt grateful for the strong grip the Vulcan kept on his arm and how swiftly he managed to manoeuvre him in the direction he needed to go - the momentum helping to keep him on his feet - and he thought he heard Sulu respond with a calm "yes sir," as the lift shaft doors closed with a whoosh of air behind them.

Kirk sighed as Spock instructed the computer, giving it their required level and he felt the elevator begin its descent. His stomach almost followed it whilst its contents threatened to defy gravity and his back slowly started to slide down the wall behind him, his legs no longer seeming to have strength enough to support his own weight. Noticing what was happening Spock grabbed him by the arm, hauling him back onto his feet, but he could feel the Captain's dead weight in his grasp and realised that his strong grip was now the only thing keeping him upright.

"Captain, do you need me to carry you?" He asked him, more out of courtesy to his superior officer as it was becoming increasingly apparent that there would be no other choice, the man's strength was rapidly draining away from him. His complexion was an ashen shade of white, and the few beads of perspiration he had wiped away on the Bridge had become a slick sheen of sweat.

Kirk gave a stilted shake of his head, his lips set in a tense line as he chewed down on his bottom lip, but then the Vulcan noticed the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in what was an obvious attempt at a smile - the effort however wasn't wholely successful. The man dabbed at his top lip and brow with the back of one shaky hand. "Although I fear you may have to." He conceeded.

Spock released his hold on the Captain's arm and as the elevator reached its final destination and the doors opened in front of them he wrapped one arm around his superior's back and hooked the other under his legs, lifting him - Kirk's legs folded limply under him. The painful pins and needles were by now starting to get pretty bad. As the Vulcan then proceeded to carry him, as though he was no weight at all, he hoped that the crew would not see him in his present condition, and that those that did would have the diplomacy to turn away and not mention it to anybody else. He hated to be seen as anything less than the strong, competent leader in front of them.

They met Nurse Chapel heading in the opposite direction. As she took in the sight of the Captain there was an expression of concern, and ill concealed shock on her face, as she observed the pallor of his complexion and the beads of sweat clinging to him. She noticed that his cheeks were also brightly flushed, immediately suggestive to her of fever.

"I'm afraid the Captain has taken ill." Spock explained to her, as she stopped in her tracks, but he kept on walking, forcing her to turn around and follow them back the way she had come. "Nurse Chapel would you go on ahead and inform Doctor McCoy, I suspect its a case of vegan choriomeningitis."

The nurse immediately nodded and hurried off in the direction of sickbay - her pace reflecting the urgency of the situation. Kirk was still clinging onto his weak hold over consciousness but the dizziness was getting worse, as was the pain. He'd now lost complete feeling in both of his legs and his head was splitting. He just hoped that McCoy would be able to give him something for his headache.

McCoy was there to greet them when they finally reached sickbay, but Jim was too out of it with pain and fever to be of much help in explaining what was wrong with him. He only hoped that Spock would be able to fill the medical team in on everything they needed to know. Tricorder in hand, the Cheif Medical Officer wasted no time in instructing the Vulcan to place Kirk down on the nearest biobed. He felt McCoy hovering nearby and just knowing that his friend was close comforted him. He was starting to regret delaying seeking medical attention, but to admit to needing help had always, to him, felt like admitting to weakness. He had earned himself somewhat of a reputation for being stubborn in this matter, only visiting his friend in his professional capacity when it became absolutely necessary, and frequently ignoring medical advice. Despite his severe physical discomfort however he started to relax a little, falling limp in Spock's arms.

"What happened?" McCoy asked the Vulcan, running his small hand held scanner over Jim. The captain felt himself being slowly lowered onto the soft mattress, and was immediately grateful for the Vulcan's understanding of his present discomfort which prompted him to be gentle. Even these careful movements however caused him some pain and he groaned as a hot tingling sensation - like a bolt of electricity - shot through his spine. He heard the sound of the screen above his head activate as it started tracking his vital signs.

"I don't know doctor." He heard Spock explain - the voices around him were becoming more muffled as though they were reaching him through a radio frequency with poor reception. "The Captain did not appear quite his usual self when he arrived on shift this morning. I have been monitoring his condition closely and he seems to be in a considerable amount of pain. He has a fever, and appears to have lost the use of both of his legs. He was also complaining of a stiff neck." Spock explained, in his usual efficient manner, which could so frequently be infuriating, but also had its times of usefulness. Jim moaned, unsuccessful in styfling a whimper as he tried to move and felt another jolt of sharp knife like pain in his lower back. The ache in his hips was now approaching unbearable.

"Bones..." He managed to whisper - surprised by how weak his own voice sounded in his ears.

"Jim." The doctor said. He appeared to be intentionally keeping his voice hushed as he leaned over him, and Kirk did his best to crack his eyes open a little - immediately recoiling as the bright lights of sickbay drove the dagger even deeper into his skull. He heard McCoy give the order to Nurse Chapel to dim the lights and a few seconds later the sharp glare started to fade into semidarkness. When he tried to open his eyes again the light still hurt his head, but it was more bearable and he was able to keep them open long enough to just about make out the hazy outline of his friend standing over him.

"How do you feel Jim?" McCoy asked him softly, and Kirk sighed as his eyes fell closed again. When he opened his mouth to respond he was relieved that the words he had to work so hard for came out, but each one spoken drove a fresh nail through his throbbing temples, and his speech was broken by a weakness he couldn't seem to shake.

"Bad... headache... Bones." He told him. "My... back hurts... dizzy..." He gasped.

"Do you feel nauseas at all?" The doctor continued to question him, and Kirk wanted to nod his head, but recalling that that probably wouldn't be the best idea he settled for a vague "uhhh-huhhh" instead.

"How about your neck?" McCoy asked, and Kirk felt his friend's gentle hands reach out to grasp him on either side of his jaw, his fingers reaching around to support the base of his skull. "Does this hurt?" He asked him as he gently tried to turn the man's head one way and then the other. He'd barely started manipulating his neck in one direction however before the movement caused Jim to cry out, and turning it in the opposite direction brought tears to his eyes. Jim moaned, pleading with him to stop, but the words were lost in a garbled, nonsensical vocalisation, which sounded more like a groan.

"I'm sorry Jim." McCoy apologised gently as he carefully lowered his head back down onto the pillow, and took a step back from the bed. Jim had started to shiver and he covered him over with a blanket. "Nurse Chapel could you please fetch me a three percent hypospray of hydrocortilene." He asked her, placing a gentle hand on Kirk's shoulder, and being careful not to exert too much pressure. She nodded and hurried off into the adjoining room. "Jim, I'm going to give you something to help with the headache." McCoy told him. "It won't take the pain away completely, but it should help to make you feel a little more comfortable." He explained. He then pulled Spock aside.

"Is it vegan choriomeningitis doctor?" The Vulcan - who had taken a step back and had been observing the scene with inevident concern - asked him, and McCoy nodded, biting down on his bottom lip thoughtfully as he looked back at his friend in the bed and then up at the screen on the wall above his head. The K3 factor was elevated, indicating that he was in a significant amount pain, and his temperature was dangerously high. Once they had succeeded at treating his aches they would need to focus on trying to bring it down.

"I'll have to take a blood sample to confirm it." McCoy explained. "But there can be no doubt. All the symptoms fit I'm afraid."

"How is this possible?" Spock asked him.

"I don't know that yet either." McCoy shook his head with a frown. "I'll have to run some more tests, but based on the timing I think we have to assume that it has something to do with what took place on Gideon. How is perhaps not the right question to be focusing on right now Spock. You know how serious vegan choriomeningitis is. We need to concentrate on getting Jim better." He told him.

"I quite agree doctor." The Vulcan nodded. He looked at Jim lying in the bed in front of him - his face characteristically expressionless. There was no trace of emotion, no sign of concern - except perhaps for the vague flicker of something akin to saddness in his eyes - and only somebody who knew the Vulcan well would be able to recognise the emotion he was currently fighting so hard to suppress. McCoy knew that even if the Vulcan didn't understand his concern for his Captain he was in fact very worried. "I will inform the crew and return to the Bridge." Spock told him, turning to leave. "Please keep me informed as to the Captain's condition."

He passed Nurse Chapel on his way out, as she returned with the hypospray in hand and handed it to McCoy. He took it from her and made his way back over to Jim's bedside - emptying it's contents into his arm. The Captain was now barely conscious, his fever was making it difficult for him to keep a grasp of what was going on around him - moments slipping through his fingers like water - and his pulse was rapid.

"Jim." He told him gently, unsure if the man could even hear him. His condition was deteriating rapidly. "I've just given you something for the headache. It'll help with the other pain too. Just try to relax whilst we work out how best to treat you."

As McCoy and the rest of the medical team then set about treating the rest of his symptoms to try and make him more comfortable whilst also trying to combat the meningitis Jim finally lost consciousness.

When he next awoke he was feeling a lot better, if not a little cotton headed. He opened his eyes a crack and was relieved when the light didn't cause his head to hurt, nor did the beeping of the monitors. It gave him the courage to open them further, and look around carefully. The room was quite dark but as his eyes adjusted to the gloom he noticed just one other patient - currently sleeping - a few beds away, and as he tried to move he noticed the support frame around his arm, feeling rather than seeing the IV in the back of his hand. He tried to sit up, carefully, before the heaviness in his legs reminded him of the fact that he'd almost completely lost feeling in them before he'd lost consciousness - and he felt a wave of relief as he attempted and succeeded in bending them at the knee, observing the slight movement beneath the blankets. The motion hurt, causing a sharp stabbing pain in his lower back and hips which snatched his breath away - but even as he gasped and froze, waiting for the pain to subside he thought at how good it was to have them feel like a part of his own body again. The medicine Bones currently had him on was obviously working - his headache was gone, and whilst he still felt vaguely lightheaded, he was no longer nauseas.

"Jim!" He heard Bones' voice and looked up to see the doctor standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

"No, don't try to sit up." McCoy told him, observing what he'd evidently been in the process of trying to do, and he quickly made his way over. Kirk suspected that a change in the pattern of the monitors had probably alerted the Cheif Medical Officer to the fact that he was awake and as he neared his side McCoy reached out and gently assisted him back down onto the bed, helping him to find a comfortable position again - one that caused him the least amount of pain. "You're only feeling better right now because we have you on some pretty strong medication, but you're still very ill." He explained.

"What's wrong with me?" Kirk asked, already knowing the answer, but needing confirmation. McCoy frowned at him but Kirk could see past his friend's frustration to the concern which bore it. He clearly had more to say to him on the matter, but he resisted, and as he allowed himself to sink back into the soft mattress Jim felt grateful as he knew that he wasn't up to a debate with the doctor right now. He was already beginning to tire again and his body wanted desperately for more sleep. He wondered if there was a sedative mixed in with the medicine they were giving him or if it was simply the infection which had depleted him so completely of energy.

"Vegan choriomeningitis, although I think you already suspected that." McCoy said disapprovingly. "You should have come to me sooner Jim." He sighed after a pause.

Kirk couldn't deny the accuracy of his friend's observations, he had infact started to suspect that that was indeed what was ailing him, but sickening recognition of his symptoms hadn't dawned on him until much later, and by then it had already been too late. He hadn't wanted to bother him with something as mundane as a mild headache and a few achy muscles.

"I didn't think that was possible Bones." He said, trying not to let the fear he felt creep into his voice, but there was a slight frown creasing the furrows of his brow and Bones seemed to sense his concern as he observed his eyes growing heavier, until they finally fell closed. It was becoming impossible for him to keep them open any longer and the effort was causing his head to hurt again.

"I didn't even think it was possible either," McCoy explained, glancing up to check the stats on the screen above his bed. Jim's temperature was still very high, but he was satisfied with the fact that his condition was stable for now - the medication seemed to be doing its job, "but it seems the Gideon's activated something in the virus in your blood again when they drew it to create their serum." He explained.

"Will I be alright?" Jim asked him, the doctor's expression softening as he placed a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder and the frown on his face was broken by a warm smile. He watched as the man's head lolled slightly to one side as sleep finally started to take hold.

"It'll take you a while but I think we caught it in time." He reassured him kindly.

"Thank you Bones." Jim muttered weakly, his speech slurred. A split second later the machines signalled a change in his breathing, signalling that he had lost consciousness again.

McCoy nodded - his heart heavy. He stood for a moment and watched his friend, making sure that his sleep was a deep and settled one before wearily making his way back to his office.

What he hadn't told Jim was that he had Spock to thank for getting him to sickbay so quickly, for the fact that he was already on the mend and starting to feel better, only a few hours after being taken so seriously ill. He was responding well to the treatment they currently had him on, but left any longer and the doctor knew that they could have been facing a very different outcome.

Sitting down at his desk again he punched the communication panel, putting out a call for Spock on the Bridge and giving him the news that the Captain was awake. The Vulcan had been checking in with him every hour since he'd delivered Jim to sickbay but now the day shift was almost over and it would soon be time for the First Officer along with the rest of the Bridge crew to hand over responsibility of the ship for the evening.

McCoy knew that he wouldn't be joining them. Vegan choriomeningitis was a complex disorder which needed close and careful monitoring and aggressive treatment.

He braced himself for a sleepless night.