Hello hello! I'm sorry I'm a bit late with this chapter… I got rather stuck halfway. And then I celebrated my friend's birthday by staying up playing bridge all night, and I crashed completely the next day, heh! Nobody ever needs to worry about me gambling, I suck. I'll stick to playing Uno :D I hope I made up for it by making this chapter longer, I'm not very satisfied with it though… oh well. Bear with me guys, before I get the next chapter up. And please review, even if it's to say how bad this chapter is, maybe it will make me write the next one better! –shot-

R a a i n: The tea will just be a bit more… tangy? Not bitter :) and randomly, it's a great remedy for colds! :D

FallChild92: -gigglesnort- evil Bismark donut. I like! BD

Thanks so much everybody who reviewed! I lubbs you alls. *3*

~Aiji

Chapter 6

"You're killing me, Len."

"It has to be worth it," Bones retorted, and eventually put the drained cup down. He frowned a little. "It was a couple of weeks back. Doctor Broum-" That's the guy's name, yeah, Jim thought, remembering the navy-clad man in the Library. "-had not turned up for the xenobiology lecture. Some other guy went instead." His brow furrowed as he recalled the events. "Broum called up a couple of people afterwards, all medical officers as far as I could tell, said there was something that needed doing."

"You were one of those medical officers."

"Of course I was, I wouldn't know this otherwise. So he calls us up, right, and he says the VSA has kindly given us a rare package of data that is pretty important to our database where it comes to Vulcan medicine. And he said that it was a rare opportunity and he'd never let us waste it."

He was quiet for a moment. "He said we'd be running tests with varied data, on a specific Vulcan ailment, and produce the appropriate medicine. And we did. Under the strictest supervision I've ever been under, and we weren't to share this with others. I'd guess the VSA was pretty reluctant to give that data up."

The wheels were turning in Jim's head. "Probably. So, what was this ailment?"

"An allergic reaction," Bones replied promptly. "Theoretically, it's supposed to throw some glands out of whack. Fever is an important indicator in the initial stages. It tones down eventually, and from the tests we've run, there are meant to be some behavioural anomalies… Temporary, of course."

"Of course. Going well, is it?"

"As well as any simulated medical run could hope to go. Broum is estimating two more weeks till we can conclude it."

"As he should, no doubt. You make the medicine, you say?" Bones nodded in reply. "Any idea where it goes? After you're done with it?"

"Broum takes it, probably for analysis. It's part of how we're graded, you know."

Jim was aware of that, in a vague sort of way. He wasn't a doctor, and the only science that interested him would be physics and those parts of chemistry that taught you how to make something that exploded. ('Taught' was probably not the right word… but the 'Danger- Flammable/Explosive' warning tag was indication enough) "… Yes. Yes, I know. And this Broum guy. He's got a reputation?"

"Oh yeah. He's cured more aliens than you'd be able to phase in a day."

"That's a lot of aliens."

"Yeah." He looked at Jim. "Is the interrogation over? Why ask all these questions, Jim?"

"Uh. Curiosity?" His sheepish grin slipped as Bones snorted and waved a hand dismissively.

"Bullshit. We both know you don't bother with the med side much. Why now, all of a sudden?"

Jim didn't answer. Unease filled him on the thought of telling anybody what might well be the Vulcan's secret… Why else keep the medical Cadets in the dark? It would make sense to keep them as serious as possible, which no doubt they would be if they knew they were actually treating a Vulcan... So did that mean there was something else? The determination apparent on Bones' face ruled out any lie or half-truth he had any hope of slipping through. He gave in. "The specifics of your simulated medical run, the height would be around six feet? Bed rest recommended, but not being strictly followed?"

"Well yes, but why would…" Bones stopped in mid-sentence, and Jim watched the doctor catch on. "No."

"Oh yes."

"You cannot think it's for the Librarian?"

"That's exactly what I think. Why is there suddenly a Vulcan on the library staff?" Now that it was out, he wanted to discuss his theory. "Why would Broum give him a bottle full of something and talk about 'dosage'?"

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Jim. What dosage?" He listened to his quick explanation. "Running more tests? He said that?"

"Yeah. It fits perfectly with your med run! Can't you see? That medication was for the Vulcan! Didn't you think it strange that a Vulcan was on the Library staff, anyway?"

Bones looked doubtful. "But Jim, why would they go the trouble of keeping it hidden? That makes no sense. It would make the lives of everybody easier if they were just straightforward about it. It's not like it was a… a military secret, or something." Jim paused- Bones had struck on the one thing he couldn't understand or fit in into his theory. It's not like an allergic reaction was something ruinous. Jim would know; he always kept a couple of hypoallergens handy, and Bones had learned to do the same.

They sat in silence.

~o~

The next day, Jim was in the Library again. Bones was at a medical class, and Jim had two hours to kill before his next lecture. "Good afternoon, Mister Spock."

The Vulcan looked up from the counter.

"Greetings, Cadet."

"How are you feeling today, then, sir?"

Jim had meant it as simple small talk. He wasn't entirely ready for the awkward silence that followed.

"Enquiring after the well-being and health of an individual as a form of greeting is illogical." Jim frowned slightly at this- a "Fine, thank you" was a perfectly okay answer, even if he wasn't sure just how accurate it was in the Vulcan's case. His way of speaking would take some getting used to, as well.. As far as Jim was concerned, greetings were never meant to be logical. You asked someone how they were because it was polite, not because you wanted them to tell you about everything that was NOT fine in their universe. Though Jim wouldn't have minded if the Librarian had said something about that. He considered asking Mister Spock about the medicine outright. It was a more attractive option compared to the other one of tiptoeing around the pink elephant and constantly worrying if he had toed the line or pranced across it obliviously, twirling to the Andorrian polka. Would he tell Jim himself?

Not as such, no.

Jim grabbed the back of a chair and pulled it up to the counter again. He took out his PADD next, calling up the equation from the previous day and readying his stylus. He had been looking forward to finishing it. He reviewed the last few steps, let the next step form in his mind, and started juggling numbers.

~o~

The day after that was beautiful. It was also a Saturday, so after the morning guest lecture, the Starfleet Cadets were free to pursue whatever weekend plans they might have. The Academy grounds were alive with young men and women enjoying the warming day. The grass was cool and many a Cadet had pulled out a mat to sit on and relax.

Jim felt the promise of sun pull at him the moment he escaped the lecture hall. It was something in the way the rays slanting through the glass windows and panelled ceiling seemed to beckon to him, like to a flower starved of light.

He realised he had just compared himself to a plant.

The air was wonderfully fresh on his face as he stepped out of the main building alongside Bones. It smelled like the sea, and grass. He took a deep breath above the main steps appreciatively.

"Would you smell that air," Bones intoned. "You don't get this sort out in space. The oxygen on life support isn't the same."

Jim agreed. The weekend and the weather seemed to be conspiring to sabotage Jim's coherent thought abilities though. "You're a plant too, Bones."

"What are you on about, Jim?"

"Oh, more unrelated and random thoughts. You'll sprout stomata any second, I expect." Bones would be an unflowering sort, he decided. With medicinal properties, growing best in soil treated with bourbon, and an affinity to fresh air.

Bones gave Jim a Look. It spoke vaguely of hyposprays.

Jim spotted a certain dark-skinned, long-haired Xenolinguistics Cadet near the promenade. "Uhura is obvious- she's a rose." Jason Smith swaggered nearby. "Cupcake is some kind of cactus. The puffy, ugly kind." He treated Bones to a running commentary of the Cadets he knew and their botanical counterparts. The guest lecturer, from Corius IV, had looked like a cauliflower. He flirted with a trio of second-years, and in a flash of inspiration called them 'desert beauties in bloom'; they tittered and blushed. He put the comment away carefully into his already formidable repertoire of 'Flirts, Complements, and Pick-up Lines'.

They strolled along the promenade. "Any plans for today?" Jim asked. "I know an interesting place we could head to later, but they won't be open so early." Dragging an extremely reluctant Bones to a night of hard partying wasn't everybody's idea of fun, but Jim got a kick out of it every time. Unfortunately he never managed to stay sober long enough to get Bones hooked up with some alien chick (there were always plenty of them around, what with the Academy and the space port nearby) since Bones always managed to drink him under the table first. Whatever drink the doctor ordered for him was practically certified to be worth it, but he couldn't count on being lucid an hour later. Especially when the damn drink was so good he just had to order five more.

"More of your weird taste in night life? I had to self-medicate for a week and a half the last time I went to a club with you. I'm sure that thing they did with the olives wasn't legal."

Jim smiled at the memory. It was definitely not legal, and it wouldn't be something you told your grandchildren, but hey, you only live once.

"I'm sure the new place is more legal."

"Anything would be more legal."

"It will be fun." Jim said happily. "You can get all the bourbon you like. Then it won't matter whether you grow stomata or not."

Bones snorted. "We'll see about that. I heard there's some sort of festival downtown… We could check that out."

"Good idea! We can get to know more people. Then we hit the clubs." Jim was grinning. He was taking Bones to 'hit the clubs' even if the doctor said to climb Everest first. It was his own fault for making such a fuss, it only made it more fun for Jim to drag him there. Besides, it was a good place to meet adventurous ladies, and Jim really thought Bones needed a woman in his life (heck, he could have a man for all it mattered, but someone) and he'd be damned if he played wingman to Bones and someone boring. He wouldn't trust anyone else to pick a match for Bones… So taking Bones himself was the best solution, even if he had to drag him by the back of his shirt.

They left the grounds quickly, leaving the Cadets to their frolicksome revelries and heading into the city. The pounding beat that he could feel through his bones rather than hear through his ears led them to the large white tent set up outside a park. It was some sort of street music marathon thing, probably with some worthy cause or another stated in the objective and to attract sponsors, but with a crowd that couldn't care less about the worthy cause as long as the music kept playing and the lucky draw kept handing out prizes. How the hell could an event raise money for something when it gave away money like that?

The festival itself wasn't bad. There was loud music, free food, and lots of people, except it was there that Jim became aware of a growing unease, like an itch he couldn't quite reach. He took notice of it when he was watching a raffle and a bunch of guys were disappointed they didn't win. "I was certain I'd get that bike, goddammit," he heard one bald, ripped guy say (the prize in question was a rather flashy motorcycle with way too much shiny metal dangling around the handlebars) and his friend replied something about probability.

Jim's mind flashed to Kholovsky. The theory couldn't be used in such a situation, of course… A raffle was pure chance, no decision-making was involved, no matter how badly the bald guy wanted the bike. His so-called 'certainty' was just greed and arrogance mashed together. From Kholovsky his thoughts turned to his work in the Library, but they didn't stay there long… Inexplicably they settled on the Vulcan Librarian. Pale green skin, slim long-fingered hands lingering over a PADD, pointed ears-

What?

Wait, hold on, back up, back up.

The world, which had gone silent in Jim's head for a moment, crashed back into sound. Pounding music, event hosts winding up the greedy crowd, laughter, people shouting over each other. Jim stood stock still, staring unblinkingly ahead, wondering what the hell that was. Well, he knew what it was. But why? So unexpected… It wasn't like he loved looking at the Librarian. He didn't swing that way.

Alright, maybe not all of that was entirely true. The Vulcan was kind of nice to look at. He was, if Jim really had to find a word, pretty. No guy should have hands so slim or eyelashes so long, for instance. Why Jim had noticed those, he didn't even know. It was probably because of all the times the Librarian gave him the Stare. Closely followed by the Eyebrow. After which would come what Jim might call a Long, Meaningful Silence. With which Jim might be bothered, if he cared enough to care.

Speaking of stares.

"You got a problem, bud?"

Jim focused on the face of the man who had spoken. It was the bald guy with bad luck. Normally he could understand people being in a rotten mood after a big disappointment, but the look he was giving Jim made him slowly and deliberately put reasoning aside, for later use. There must be a factory somewhere, pressing burly men into 'Cupcake' tins.

"Do I?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bones look around and start pushing his way to his side.

"You starin' at me? Think it's funny that I didn't win, do ya?"

The crowd around them eased, the tight press of bodies moving away on the unerring instinct of impending doom. Jim found himself standing at the edge of a small empty space with the bald man on the other side. Behind him were three of his friends, looking more like they had been hewn than born. One of them slammed a meaty fist into his palm. "Fight!"

Jim felt someone push against his side, and turned to see Bones. "What the hell? You can't stay out of trouble for even one day?"

"I zoned out a bit, that guy seems to think I was staring at him. Stupid bugger."

The host was only just realising that he didn't have the crowd's attention anymore. He made some attempts to draw them back, then gave up. Jim was circling now, all attention fixed on the small mountain in front of him. He hadn't been looking for a fight, it was a Saturday and he wanted to chill, damn the man. And he felt ill at ease in his own skin, for some reason. He didn't want to be here.

But this was a challenge and Jim Kirk never refused a challenge.

The man lunged, and the small circle opened up like a flower as the people along the edge pushed back. Jim ducked and rolled, knocking the bald man's legs from under him, making him crash down hard. There were some 'oohs' from the crowd; someone clapped. He rolled onto his own feet and crouched, waiting for the other, who was sprawled at the feet of the crowd after crashing against them, to rise. The man pulled himself to his feet, face tight, and stepped forward again, with his fists at the ready. Jim got ready to deal him a nice uppercut.

The man stopped. He stared at Jim in momentary confusion, then folded to the ground with a soft sigh.

Confusion spread outwards, with mutters of "What happened?" and "Dunno, the guy just collapsed," rippling through the crowd. Some onlookers were looking at Jim with awe. Jim's own confusion and slight worry that the guy had just gone into cardiac arrest cleared when he saw the brief flash of a needle as Bones, who had been standing behind his opponent, surreptitiously slipped an empty hypospray into his pocket. He made a face- Bones rolled his eyes and glared at him in a long-suffering, you-always-make-trouble-for-me way. The event host, sensing that the disturbance was ending, made a spirited attempt at getting everyone's attention back by plunging his hand into the glass bowl full of ticket stubs and announcing the proud winner of an all-expenses-paid holiday to luau in Hawaii. The unconscious would-be fighter was carried with some trouble by his friends to the first-aid tent, where he regained consciousness ten minutes later.

Jim poured himself a cup of coffee at the buffet table. Bones joined him, holding a fruit cup. They stood beside each other in silence. "Let's beat it," Jim suggested.

"Nah, I'm enjoying myself." Bones replied dismissively. Jim shot him a look. "Well, where to?"

"Dunno. Wherever."

They ended up walking through a large part of the downtown area, visiting old pawnshops, antique bookstores, a café, and a park, where they sat enjoying the afternoon sun. Jim tried to, at least. He felt like he was in a hurry, though he had no plans. He scuffed his shoes on the gravel under the bench. "Let's head back," Bones said, slightly exasperated with Jim's inability to stay still, after the latter had started breaking small twigs off a nearby bush and shredding them into the smallest possible pieces. Jim agreed readily.

Back at the Academy, Jim wasted no time in returning to the Library. He finally felt like he would be able to scratch the proverbial itch he had been nursing for half a day, and the weight of his PADD on his arm was comforting. Maybe he could even wring out a half-decent conversation from the Librarian.

Who wasn't there. The counter was, once again, empty.

Jim wondered where the Librarian could be. He vaguely remembered that Library staff only got Sundays off, and even so, mostly spent it in the Library… So he was probably making his rounds. Well, he could wait.

As Jim was pulling up his chair, he accidentally knocked into small, elongated box, which slid smoothly across the counter and scattered spare styluses over the floor. He bit back his irritation at himself and the irate looks from nearby Cadets, and walked past the 'Staff Only' sign and barrier. He gathered them back into the box and was about to put it back when he saw the pouch.

It was on the shelf under the counter, right where the Vulcan always put it. Jim stared at it. He looked over the counter. When the Librarian was nowhere in sight, he quickly pulled it out and opened it. Inside was a small bottle made of brown glass, with a neat label and half full of round pills. Jim squinted at the label. He couldn't read it, it wasn't in any language that he knew. Vulcan?

He put the bottle and pouch back quickly, grabbing the stylus box as he did so. He slid past the barrier, past the counter and into his chair. Not a moment too soon, as the Librarian emerged from a distant Library section seconds later and joined him at the counter after a brief greeting.

That evening, after dinner, Jim found the Translator in the database of the Cadet server on his computer. He had copied down the symbols as best as he could from memory, and since he had no idea how to pronounce the words, he spent twenty minutes painstakingly entering them manually. He took a deep breath, and hit 'Translate'.

Cushion disassemble blue flightless bird. "The hell?" He stared at it. Then he rearranged some of the spaces.

Bingo. Ascorbic acid allergy medication. The four words winked up at Jim from the screen. "Well, whaddoyouknow. Mister Spock is allergic to grapes." he said softly to himself.

~o~

Phew! Yeah that's chapter 6!

About Jim's little thing of comparing people and plants… it doesn't really have deeper meaning. It's just one of those little things, hahaha. Can anyone guess what plant I think Spock would be? xD

The type of acid found in grapes really is ascorbic acid… we learned it in General Science like, six years ago for chemistry? Lordy, my memory is so random. But yes. It was probably anti-climatic, but I really don't want to make it anything too serious that would be excessively AU and weird, hahahaha…

Jim keeps getting into fights. Poor fella. It doesn't help his mood, but at least it makes him go back to the Library, yeh yeh :D –is evil-

'frolicksome revelries' is from the awesome Shoebox Project. :) credit to creators!

Alrightey, please review! Even if it was bad ;3;

~Aiji