McCoy stayed with Jim for the next couple of hours, watching him as he slept – keeping a very close eye on him. Now that Sarek was no longer in any immediate danger he'd assigned his care to Doctor M'Benga, this way he could remain where he was most needed and not have to worry about being called away, unless in the event of a real medical emergency.
The Captain's vital signs were still unstable and there'd been a couple of worrying moments when his blood pressure had dropped and his heartrate had started to slow. McCoy had given him some extra medicine to help better regulate these but it was no substitute for his own body performing this function for itself. All he could do for now was monitor his friend's condition and let the drugs do their work. Only time would tell whether or not Jim would recover, but it was hard knowing that, at least for now, there was nothing more he could do.
That was perhaps the hardest thing about this situation, the most difficult part of being a doctor was when, even with all the knowledge, medical training and understanding, there was nothing you could do to help a friend. All he could ever really remember wanting to do was study medicine. It had never occurred to him that medical science still didn't hold all of the answers. He'd just wanted to help people – to cure them of their suffering and relieve their pain. He'd never expected to be in a situation where his patients would also become some of his closest friends – but joining Starfleet had made that a reality for him.
Nurse Chapel too found herself experiencing a similar trail of thought. She was only human after all, and as much as she understood that it wasn't advisable to get too emotionally involvd with her patients, that was a near impossibility when the people in her care were those she lived with, worked alongside, and socialised with. Doing this job could really hurt sometimes.
She'd checked on Sarek, but Doctor M'Benga's assessment of Spock's father's condition had been as accurate as his knowledge of Vulcan physiology dictated it ort. The Vulcan had spent the latter part of the morning in a healing trance, and although still physically weak his vital signs were now stable, and from what she herself knew of the Vulcan cardiac and respiratory system his heart appeared to be functioning normally again. She only wished that humans could put themselves in a healing trance in the same way Vulcan's could – that Jim could simply go off to sleep and wake up a few hours later healed – but sadly he didn't have that same luxury. He would have to take the long road to recovery.
One thing that Sarek's latest batch of test results had flagged up, which couldn't be fixed by a healing trance, however was that he was still slightly dehydrated, which was perhaps not entirely unexpected given his blood loss during surgery the day before. Heart surgery carried with it a particularly high risk of losing a substantial amount of blood, but as per Doctor M'Benga's instructions Nurse Chapel hooked him up to a saline and mineral drip before making a note of his vital signs. She made sure that he was as comfortable as possible and not in too much pain, before heading back to intensive care to check on the Captain's condition.
On her way she had to pass McCoy's office to drop off some of M'Benga's notes, to be added to Sarek's medical file. She placed them in the trey on his desk, where she knew the Chief Medical Officer kept the paperwork he hadn't yet added to the computer system. Most of their work was done electronically these days, but provision was still made of the occasional handwritten note. There was a cup of coffee sitting on his desk, three quarters empty and stone cold, and she suspected that he'd probably been in the process of drinking it when Jim had started bleeding again the night before. The bed clothes on his cot were rumpled suggesting that he had at least managed to snatch a couple of hours sleep, and she made to tidy it a little, wanting to make herself useful to try and alleviate some of the helplessness she was currently feeling.
It was whilst she was straightening the blankets that Uhura's voice suddenly burst over the intercom – startling her slightly, and making her visibly jump. The young woman sounded worried.
There was no sound to the intercom in intensive care, only a flashing light to signal the presence of someone on the other end, and suspecting that McCoy would probably still be too focused on Jim to notice the blinking red orb she got up to answer the call – hoping that it wasn't about anything too serious. She realised that the Lieutenant could just be calling on the behalf of a concerned crew member, wanting to enquire as to the Captain's condition, but they couldn't afford another medical emergency right now. McCoy was already exhausted, and Jim was going to need around the clock monitoring and care for the next few days at least. She knew that McCoy wanted to keep the extent of his injury from the crew, and she could completely understand why. None of them had seen him so seriously ill before, even McCoy had never seen him quite so sick. Jim had managed to hold things together on the Bridge the day before – his ship had been under attack and the adrenaline had kept him going long enough to enable him to deal with the immediate threat. It was a real testament to the captain's strength and character, that he'd been able to work through the pain – and Christine knew that he would have been in quite a lot of pain. She remembered how he'd sat there, passive and resigned on the edge of the bio-bed, whilst she'd helped him get dressed, how he'd struggled to stand – even with McCoy's assistance – and how quickly it had become apparent how difficult walking was for him. He'd paid a tremendous price to save his ship and her crew – and Spock would probably never know the true extent of the sacrifice he had made to save Sarek's life.
Kirk's injured lung was currently failing. He was fighting but she knew that he'd only survived this long because of the extraordinary advances in medical science. The cocktail of drugs he was on were currently helping to stabilise his condition but even with all the support they were giving him his body was struggling to recover. McCoy knew he'd have to let the crew know sooner rather than later, and nobody wanted to contemplate the possibility, but if Kirk was to die arrangements had to be made to ensure the smooth running of the ship and to minimise the disruption to their mission. It was devastating, but as painful as this whole situation was Christine knew that this was the way the captain would have wanted it.
She knew that McCoy planned to talk with Spock and Scotty later about their current situation – but she was also aware that it was a conversation he was dreading having to have. Sometimes talking about things seemed to make them seem so final.
Spock meanwhile had made it back to the Bridge, with some considerable effort on his part. He hadn't told McCoy – he really wasn't up to the doctor's fussing right now, and he hadn't wanted to divert the man's attention away from the captain – but he really wasn't feeling too great himself. His concern was really beginning to get to him and this in itself was a warning sign that something was amiss with his own body. He would normally have managed to maintain a much tighter hold over his emotions, but his physical weakness was also seriously testing his resolve.
It was becoming increasingly apparent that the captain was probably much more seriously ill than McCoy was letting on, and he couldn't escape the feeling that there was something the Chief Medical Officer was holding back from him. The fact that he hadn't been permitted to see Kirk since the evening before had done little to alleviate these growing concerns, he felt that if he could just see him he would have the evidence of his own eyes that things were not quite a bad as everyone seemed to be imagining, but the memory of finding Jim the day before, so close to death, still haunted him – and he realised that the man wasn't going to be able to escape the inevitable complications of his injuries.
Spock's vision blurred and he screwed his eyes shut against the fuzziness of his surroundings, pinching the bridge of his nose to also try and dispel the ache which had settled in his head. He was sweating slightly – and every muscle, joint and bone in his body ached. He wasn't used to having to try and function with a body that felt as heavy as lead, and joints as stiff as rusting hinges. It physically hurt him to move, but he simply didn't have the presence of mind to even try and supress the pain he was feeling – he was too exhausted to care.
This was not the way Vulcan's dealt with things – what he was feeling and experiencing now were alarmingly human traits, and he didn't like it. He'd had a choice as a child about who he wanted to be, and had chosen the Vulcan way of life. He'd been raised as a Vulcan, been taught as a Vulcan, and had come to see himself as wholly Vulcan. He tried very hard to distance himself from his human half, not out of any disrespect to his mother but because he genuinely saw the Vulcan approach to living as offering a better way of life.
He looked around, relieved for once that he was sitting in the captain's chair rather than standing at his usual post – sitting anywhere was certainly preferential to standing at the moment. The dizziness was sure to have had an effect on his balance, and at least sitting it would be easier for him to maintain the façade that he was alright.
He could feel Lieutenant Uhura's eyes on him from behind, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck – which he could feel was already beaded with sweat, and probably glistening. He realised that this was probably what had attracted her attention. The temperature on Vulcan was significantly hotter than that on Earth, the air more thin – Vulcan's sensitivity to heat was different to that of human's, they had a higher tolerance for it and very rarely perspired. He put a palm to the back of his neck and wiped the sheen of sweat away.
"Mr Spock, are you alright?" She asked him.
He took a breath to steady himself, to try and prevent his voice from shaking when he spoke.
"Quite alright yes, thank you Lieutenant." He responded in the most formal manner he could muster under the circumstances – it wasn't easy, keeping the pain out of his voice.
He hoped that this might pacify her concerns and that she might turn around and go back to her work. He had no such luck however, and he could still feel her eyes boring into the back of his neck. His voice had sounded brusque, even for him, he was aware of how strained it sounded and his tone was more standoffish than usual.
"Are you sure?" She pressed him. "If you don't mind me saying so you don't look well."
He made to turn in his chair but the world around him once again started to spin – everything tilting strangely sideways and then flashing rapidly from one corner of his field of vision to the other. He could see Leuitant's Sulu and Chekcov sitting at their stations in front of him, but their figures were swimming unpleasantly, and he found himself unable to respond to her straight away.
When he didn't answer her Uhura got to her feet and began to make her way over to him. Spock could feel the vaguest hint of annoyance building – yet another undesirable human trait, which sat uncomfortably with him, and he fought to supress it. If he lost his temper with her she would know that something was definitely wrong. He felt her place her hand gently on his shoulder and his whole body instinctively tensed. He understood that human beings could find the physical contact of another comforting in times of great stress – they were born craving the physical interaction of their parents – and it was his hope that he'd been able to comfort the Captain in this way the day before. Spock would not normally have gone to the extent he had to console a man when there was a serious physical injury needing more immediate attention, but Jim had been bleeding to death, and offering him a comforting word whilst he'd done everything he could to try and stem the bleeding had been all he could do for his friend – this in itself had affected him more than he cared to admit. Vulcan's saw no value in open displays of affection and emotion. It was not in their nature to find the physical contact of another even vaguely pleasurable – there was no logical need for it, unless it was in the interests of procreation, and so Spock found Uhura's touch strange and uncomfortable.
Uhura evidently felt Spock's body tense beneath her hand, because she withdrew it immediately, but he could still feel her fingers hovering over his shoulder.
She frowned.
"Mr Spock, you're burning up!" She observed. It was true that the heat was radiating off him in waves. He felt warm – too warm in fact – and he knew that she didn't have to touch him to recognise that he had a fever.
"We Vulcan's have a higher body temperature than you human's Lieutenant, as I know you are aware." He told her, without looking up. He knew that this wasn't strictly true – the Vulcan sympathetic nervous system was a complex one, and one which wasn't so easily defined by a number on a thermometer. He knew that McCoy would ardently refute this statement if he were present – but even he found Vulcan physiology difficult to get his head around, and the fact that Spock's vital signs tended to change so dramatically, adjusting to help his body adapt to any given situation, made them even harder to read. His human genetics did impede this ability slightly, but for the most part it still enabled him to survive in even the most hostile of environments, and endure pain and trauma which would literally incapacitate or even kill a human being. As a result there were no medical text books in existence which accurately documented the Vulcan physiological structure or its functionality. Not even Doctor M'Benga, who was a specialist in this field, knew everything there was to know about the ship's second in command and science officer.
He could tell that Uhura too evidently wasn't convinced either, as still she didn't move from his side. Spock sighed in exasperation, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to escape her interrogation. After what had happened the day before he was aware of the fact that everyone had been keeping a very close eye on him. What had only been of mild annoyance to him before though had now turned into a genuine threat to his Vulcan reputation – betraying his human weaknesses.
"Are you sure Mr Spock?" She persisted in her questioning of him. "You're sweating." She observed – the beads of salty moisture now drying where they clung to the back of his neck, the undeniable manifestation of fever. He estimated his body temperature had risen to 104 degrees in the last hour – dangerously high for a human, but nothing he couldn't handle, if they would just leave him alone.
"Perhaps you should pay a visit to Doctor McCoy?" She suggested.
"Lieutenant, I have told you I am quite alright!" He snapped.
He wasn't sure how he managed it, but some inner fury propelled him to his feet as he turned around to face her. He kept a tight grip on the arm of the captain's chair, but this did very little to help him when the room began to spin even more violently, and it was as much as he could do to stop himself falling to his knees in front of her. Uhura starred at him in shock, for a moment lost for words and evidently taken aback by his outburst. Although not necessarily mild mannered – for it was not his disposition which kept him from acting on the impulse of his emotions – she had never seen him react in this way before.
They seemed to have entered into some strange stalemate. Although clearly weak Spock was evidently not prepared to stand down, but neither was she afraid to challenge a commanding officer who was clearly unfit for duty. He realised that she had Starfleet protocol on her side – that no service man or woman, no matter their rank, could be subpoenaed with a charge of mutiny if an officer was not fit to command, or carry out their full range of duties. This in itself would not have been enough to force Spock to admit defeat, but at that moment his body seemed to take it upon itself to make that decision for him, and everything went black. His legs gave way beneath him as he feinted.
Uhura gasped. Sulu and Chekov spun around in their seats as they heard him hit the floor, and as they immediately got up from their posts to go to the unconscious Vulcan's side – another two men quickly taking their place at the controls – she hurried back to her station to radio through to sickbay.
Meanwhile Nurse Chapel had answered Uhura's emergency call and made her way back to the intensive care unit. As she'd suspected when she entered Jim's room Doctor McCoy bore no indication that he had even noticed there'd been a call from the Bridge. He looked up at her as she entered, and to her it seemed as though he hadn't moved since she'd left him.
"Doctor McCoy you're needed on the Bridge, there's a medical emergency!" She wasted no time in letting him know what had happened, as she hurried over to where he was busying himself at the captain's bedside.
"Nurse Chapel, can Doctor M'Benga not deal with it?" He asked her. The captain's condition also appeared to still be the same, as serious as it had been the last time she'd checked on him, and judging by the deep worry lines, etching deep crevasses across McCoy's forehead, he still hadn't shown any signs of stabilising. It was a painful realisation – and one which was made all the more difficult with the knowledge that the sudden deterioration to Spock's condition too was about to make the situation all the more complicated. "I really don't want to have to leave Jim at the moment." He explained. "He'll be waking up soon and…"
"I'm afraid not Doctor." She said, cutting him off mid-sentence. The abruptness of her response seemed to have an immediate effect on McCoy, who stopped what he'd been doing and turned back around to face her – regarding her with a critical eye. The urgency in her voice evidently hadn't been completely lost on him.
"What's happened now?" He asked her, his own tone laden with concern, as a deep frown began to creep it's way across his forehead, weathered by worry and fatigue.
"It's a code blue medical emergency I'm afraid." She clarified. "Mr Spock has collapsed."