"You know, Spock wouldn't approve of you turning command over to Checkov," said McCoy, as he grimaced at the immersion tub.
After immersion for nearly half an hour, the water was stained green from the blood on Spock's shirt. The tub looked more like a chemical bath, and it was putting Waterson off, who had taken to pacing the short distance of the bio beds to the door, but he never left. Even with Kirk there, he insisted he would stay, at least until Mr. Spock was more stable.
"A Starfleet captain may only relinquish command when he is unfit for duty, personal errands do not fall under this category," said Kirk in his best Spock voice.
Waterson snickered, and when Kirk caught his eye, he started pacing nervously. McCoy watched him amused for a moment, then shot Jim a disapproving look. Kirk shrugged.
"Right, Jim. So what excuse are you going to tell Spock as to why you left the bridge?" inquired McCoy.
"Maybe, you could tell him that I was injured during the missile attack," said Jim and his voice rose in pitch like he knew Bones would say no.
"No way, Jim! That hobgoblin sees right through me," scolded McCoy.
Kirk sighed, and shifted his arms around Spock's torso, they were getting numb and tingly again. "Oh come on, Bones," pleaded Kirk.
"Keep your voice down, Jim. He probably already knows about your plans to lie to him," hissed McCoy.
"You said it yourself doctor, he's out like a light," said Kirk, and he bent to look at Spock. His jaw was slack, and his breathing steady.
"His eyes may be shut, but his Vulcan ears are always open," said McCoy nervously.
Suddenly, Spock's nose twitched, and everyone's breath caught in their throats. Waterson stopped his pacing and McCoy waved his scanner over Spock's head again.
"99 degrees. That's low grade. He should be coming out of it soon enough," said McCoy, breaking the silence.
Spock's head shifted, and Waterson could swear he saw a slit of one of Spock's dark eyes, if only for a second. He gasped. Kirk looked up at Waterson who was pointing a shaking finger at the science officer. He nearly dropped Spock in the water.
"What is it? Is he waking up?" asked Kirk.
Spock made a hacking noise at the back of his throat and turned his head away from Kirk's arm, and slept on. Kirk noticed how his arm felt strangely empty without the weight of Spock's head there. He frowned, and bent low next to Spock's ear.
"Spock, it's Kirk, wake up. Come on wake up," he whispered.
And Spock did. His eyes flew open and he reached behind him trying to nerve pinch Kirk. He missed, and grabbed him around the throat, all the while thrashing and spilling water all over the floor. Kirk held up his hand indicating he could handle it. Everyone watched with wide eyes, helpless.
"Spock, it's me. It's Kirk. It's okay."
Spock settled and loosened his grip on Kirk, and that was when McCoy swept in with a hypo, and the calm was short lived. Spock thought he was being attacked and resumed his vicious grip on Kirk's neck again. He drove his elbow into Kirk's jaw several times, emitting a few involuntary yelps from the captain. Spock kicked out a lanky leg at McCoy, who landed on his back underneath a biobed, gasping, eyes unfocused. Chapel backed up against the wall, she knew better than to try to handle the situation on her own. She punched the security alert button, hoping they would arrive before Kirk was strangled to death.
Spock dunked Kirk's head in the water, holding them there, probably with the intent of staying there till all the bubbles were gone. Kirk's arms pressed against the tub trying to push himself out of the water, but he only smacked his chin and bit down on his tongue. Within seconds the water turned a murky yellow, churning up's Spock's green blood, and Kirk's red blood to make some horrible metallic concoction. Kirk could feel himself getting dizzy, and his head began to pound. When he finally gave in to suck in a breath of icy water, the grip on his throat slackened, and he was yanked by his uniform out of the water. He lay coughing and spitting out the tainted water, his head spun, and he shook from the cold. When he finally oriented himself, he realized he was laying on top of Waterson, who was rubbing Kirk's chest. Kirk rolled off the security guard onto his elbows, and watched blood drip from his mouth onto his open palms. Kirk heard a gurgling, then realizing it was Waterson talking. He shook his head.
"What?" asked Kirk.
"Are you all right Captain?" asked Waterson who had his hand on Kirk's back, slapping him between the shoulder blades, forcing more water out of Kirk's lungs.
"Fine. Just help Spock," he whispered weakly, and slid off his elbows and flopped onto his stomach, exhausted and shaking slightly.
Waterson scooped Spock up and laid him gently on a bio bed. McCoy waved his instrument over Spock's head.
"Captain, roll onto your back, please," said McCoy absentmindedly.
"Just give me a minute, Bones," whined Kirk, his hands wrapped around his own neck. He felt like if he let go, blood might come spurting out or his vertebra would crumble. Everything felt fragile.
"Nope, you need to breathe, and laying on your chest like that isn't helping."
Kirk hesitated. He didn't want anyone to see the bruises imprinted on his neck from Spock's fingers. McCoy had lost his patience, and put his knees up against Kirk's back and gently log rolled him towards him, onto his lap. Kirk continued to look at the wall, refusing to meet McCoy's eye. McCoy ignored this and watched blood trickle from Jim's mouth down over his chin and pool in the divet of his neck. He sighed and began dabbing the blood with fresh gauze. Kirk cleared his throat, and whimpered. His vocal cords stung with every inhale, and all because of his first officer. He knew what Spock was capable of, but he never thought he would turn on him. A tear leaked out of his eye.
"Jim," said McCoy. His voice was full of pity, and concern. Kirk came undone. He shook harder and several silent tears fell. "Spock will be fine. He will. It's okay." His Georgian accent came out, normally that twang was enough to comfort the Captain, but not today. He had never seen Jim this upset over anyone.
"It's not that," whispered Kirk.
Before McCoy could ask he removed Kirk's shaking hands from his neck. There were dime sized bruises trailing from his ear down to his collarbone. They lined his throat like he had been strangled by an octopus. They were from the pads of Spock's fingers. They were dark and speckled and raised.
"He didn't mean it, Jim. He's really sick, of course he didn't mean it," and for a second McCoy wasn't sure if he was trying to convince Jim or himself.
Kirk hoisted himself up onto his elbows, and sat back on his heels while he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. When he got to his feet, he stood tall and puffed out his chest, like the proud Starfleet captain that he was. He didn't feel like it then, with rosy cheeks, and watery eyes, but he was determined to fake it till he made it.
McCoy grabbed him an ice pack, and Jim took it, smiling halfheartedly before he turned to leave. He caught himself in the doorframe.
"Bones.." he began.
"I'll update you as soon as he wakes."
Kirk nodded and set off down the hall.
The elevator chimed as it stopped on deck 3. Jim stepped inside and went to hit the button for the bridge, but found his shaking finger hovering over the button, but he couldn't bring himself to push it. He wasn't ready to go back to the bridge. He leaned heavily on the wall, and lazily punched the button for Deck 5.
Kirk listened to the calming whirs as the elevator rose, but when the doors swished open he froze. He poked his head out into the hall. It was empty. He scurried as quickly as he could down the hall to his quarters. Just as his door opened, he heard chattering echoing from down the hall. He slipped inside and slid along the wall out of view, willing the doors to close soon, so no one could catch the door and ask him something. Someone always had some friendly gossip for the captain, or a delivery, or quick question, or status update. He was always willing to listen and socialize off the clock with anyone, but today he wanted to see no one, as he hoped no one would see him. He felt like a teenager with their first zit. But hiding wasn't an option. Today, he had to suck it up, pull himself together and return to the bridge. He opened his closet door and picked out a black turtle necked uniform that was usually reserved for his underclothes for when he was part of the landing party. He pulled it over his head, and smiled. It covered most of the bruises. He rinsed his face, and mouth which still tasted of blood. Then Kirk set off for the bridge again, having to talk himself into going straight to the bridge, not passing go, not collecting $200, and certainly not making a pit stop at sickbay.