He was doing it again.....

Jim mentally slapped himself in exasperation, forcing his gaze away from the subject of his thoughts and across to the opposite wall instead. He had a feeling that this was going to turn into a very bad past time if he didn't stop himself soon or sought some serious help. It was just like star gazing. You lose yourself in the view, get completely sucked in and just when you think you've seen it all, suddenly it changes and the entire process starts all over again. It was addictive and mesmerizing, almost enigmatic...

.....and also really hypnotic.

His eyes travelled unbidden back up again and he stared.

Yes, there was definitely something hypnotic about the way that the pulsing lights from inside the turbo lift reflected off from the green tinged skin of his first officer, casting shadows along the planes and lines of his face, creating a diametrically opposite concoction of harsh and soft contours and dark and light moving shapes.

Screw stargazing, he thought, try the all new and improved spock-gazing.

Jim blinked. Hmm...you could probably turn that into some sort of a sport, he mused. It may actually catch on. Even better than that, it could have the potential to be an extreme sport if you happened to catch Spock on a bad day. The contract pertaining to any injuries experienced while performing such an activity would have to be pretty tight on his behalf though because seriously, he'd seen Spock on a bad day and man, it was not pretty.

Jim chewed slightly on his lip, a bad habit, as he dredged up the memories of many previous encounters of when Spock seemed to be experiencing a bad case of PMS or something just as horrific. Yeah, there was definitely nothing pretty about being strangled on top of a console, having random soup trays thrown at him, getting those insanely annoying nerve pinches which made him wake up with stabbing headaches or just receiving the famous death-glare at a point when Jim had decreed that it was annual annoy Spock Day.

Something he wasn't repeating again.

He continued to look at his first officer, watching the way his eyes flicked around the small confines of the lift. He watched how his eyebrows slowly lowered casting slight shadows below them and how these same eyes then followed by his entire head quickly turned in his direction and looked at him questionably.

Jim suddenly became much more interested in the white wall in front of him as his eyes swiftly flicked down, determined not to be caught in the act of staring. He swallowed uncomfortably and waited as the dark gaze swept his face, trying to seemingly and casually examine the lift's pristine features in the process. Hopefully his first officer would just lose interest in his strange behaviour or finally realise just how insane Jim actually was and accept it with good grace. Unless of course he had already. That definitely was a grand possibility. It wasn't at all like he gawked at the guy half the time, he thought sarcastically, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He may actually have to get himself checked out by Bones when all of this was over because pretty much checking out his first officer on the bridge would seriously not do. Now that he thought about it though, you could hardly call it 'checking out' because it wasn't exactly obvious.

Jim always went obvious when it came to things like that. It seemed to get you much further than just sneaking around the process. When it came to making a move he was anything but...

He stopped suddenly, tilting his head and frowning slightly. The tingling sensation that he always got when he was being watched was dissipating. It was a weird feeling, kind of like a six sense which gave him a really heightened awareness of the things around him. He sure wasn't about to complain about it anytime soon though, despite its strange qualities. That shivering consciousness had saved his ass way to many times for it to be problem. He sighed in relief and his expression cleared as it completely disappeared. Spock had finally dismissed his behaviour. Thank God. He closed his eyes briefly before opening them to once again look at the wall. Man, he really needed to stop this. It wasn't healthy. He would not look up again until they reached the sickbay, he thought decisively.

He would not look back up again.

He would not look back up again.....

He would.....oh damn it...

He looked back up again.

So much for the strong willed side of his character. That just got completely steam-rolled by... ah...another part of him. He was quite a multi layered kind of guy, really. Like a puzzle wrapped inside an enigma, wrapped inside a tacho and then covered in a whole lot of bubble wrap.

The stuff that popped...hmmm...good times that 10th birthday party, Jim thought and he smiled.

He was instantly pulled back to his previous thoughts as the flashing florescent light once again changed the overall appearance of Spock's countenance, bringing out more of the green within his skin. Hmmm...

...maybe he could stick him on a pedestal and he could be the Enterprise's star attraction? People could pay money to see him, Jim mused. Good money. That way he could use the cash to upgrade some of the security features himself that the bloody admirals of Starfleet had yet to allow him to do. Now that he actually thought about it, Spock could be any number of things; a chair, a pack horse, a sport, a monument.

Wow.

He really was multitalented and not just a genius.

He grinned. Yep, that was him and Spock. The multilayered, multitalented, slightly dysfunctional tag team, with two of their legs tied together, running the egg race of life.

With broken spoons.

Not that he was calling the Enterprise or her crew broken or anything.... just that a whole lot of shit always seemed to got thrown at them...

Jim didn't realise that the Vulcan in question was once again looking down at him until it was too late and his own golden eyes were caught by the irrefutable black ones.

Crap.

His mind whirled. After his last pathetic attempt at trying to speak his way out of a similar scenario he decided to remain silent and instead hope for the best. He cleared his throat awkwardly as the dark eyes bore into his own, trying to not look too much like a petrified cat that was caught in the headlights of a car.

They both continued to stare at each other with only the occasional pulse of the lifts' hydrocarbon suspension unit breaking the stillness with its deep toned hum.

Just as the silence was beginning to stretch against its comfortable restraints one of Spock's eyebrows suddenly rose, as he looked down at him inscrutably. Jim, in keeping with his 'no-talking' stigma responded by raising two of his own in a silent question and response. He sure wasn't going to try just the one out. Watching himself trying to achieve it in the mirror of his quarters freaked him out about as much as base jumping from the Enterprise during the Nero incident. There were innocent people aboard the ship who he wasn't about scar for life. Maybe after a little more practise and he could actually start to think about trying it out in public. Though who knows, maybe he would never be able to do it. It was probably a hereditary thing, something one of Spock's parents was able to do and he just got lucky when it came to the gene pool. You probably had to have a well defined eyebrow muscle or something.

Jim really liked to use inheritance as a scapegoat. It worked more often than one would expect it to. There was also an added bonus of the grim satisfaction you received if you weren't exactly on good terms with your parents either.

If in doubt...blame it on genetics, he thought wryly.

Two black eyebrows had lowered in an assessing manner as he thought, while the head which they were situated upon had tilted sideways and the eyes become narrower. Jim became more noticeable of this expression as his own thoughts quieted down. He inspected the face before him, seeing the tell tale signs of confusion in the downward tilt of the corner of Spock's lips accompanied by a slight squinting of the eyes.

Jim could understand why Spock would probably be, if anything slightly puzzled. He was really anything but non-verbal, unless the situation demanded it beyond all else. He liked making his opinions known, that was all. The thing that Spock didn't realise was that this situation did require it however. On pain of the reality of actually being tongue tied. For the Vulcan it would be like trying to find out what 'x' was in an equation without the actual equation. Of course a correct conclusion couldn't be drawn if relevant and needed information was omitted from the problem.

Jim hadn't realised that as he was thinking his own eyebrows had lowered in concentration. The Captain and First Officer now contemplated each other, one gaze assessing and one absorbed, as he lost himself in his random stream of consciousness.

Jeez, what was this?

An Eyebrow War?

Jim laughed out loud as that wayward thought broke into his mind but quickly muted his expression as Spock's eyebrows flew upwards and his eyes widened, an expression that looked so confronted and perplexed that Jim instantly started laughing again and was unable to reign himself in.

He didn't realise that his legs were slipping from Spock's arms until he was falling to the right, rolling out of the warm supporting arms and with a yelp, hitting the ground.

Wow, he thought, as he lay back-down on the floor, that really did hurt like a bitch when Spock didn't happen to catch him. He winced. The lift floor was probably even worse than the grate on the bridge as there was no suspension or give in it at all. He really wasn't having a good day where gravity was concerned. He should just permanently attach himself to the floor or something. He groaned, closing his eyes, letting his head fall down.

"God damn mother-"

"Captain?"

The single word broke through Jim's stream of incomplete profanities and he opened his eyes, looking up....and up...and up...and...

"You're really tall...do ya know that?"

Spock seemed to sigh at this. "Yes, Captain, I am aware of my own height," he said and then looked contemplative, his lip twitching upward slightly. "Just as I am aware of my eyes also."

Oh damn, Jim thought, averting his own eyes and looking downwards. Yep, if that wasn't an obvious attempt at telling him that he was being completely obvious about looking at him all the time, then he was an Andorian.

Or just completely stupid...it wouldn't surprise him.

Keeping his eyes carefully away from his first officers, he moved his arms beneath him and heaved himself up onto his elbows. His limbs felt heavy, an indicator that the drugs that Bones had given him were still working effectively. These 23rd century medicines were amazing, he thought, in danger of sounding like a broken record player stuck on repeat. An outstretched pale hand suddenly appeared in his view disrupting his stream of thought and he jerked back, startled. He looked up at Spock's serene face and then back down at the hand.

An open invitation.

He complimented the gesture for a moment longer, before lifting a hand of his own and grasping the given one, smiling slightly. He felt an unexpected tug on his arm and suddenly he was pulled to his feet. Disoriented at the extremely quick movement, he stumbled forward and the grip on his hand tightened as he did so, steadying him. He felt a warm pressure upon his opposite shoulder as the world spun violently for a second, all the blood rushing from his head. Whoa, he thought and grimaced. Vertigo. He grabbed onto the arm holding his shoulder, looking at the floor as he tried to ground himself, using Spock as a centring point.

The action was ironic, to say the least. He already considered his first officer like an eye of a storm. The calm amidst the chaos. A method to a madness, where Jim was easily the most craziest and unrelenting madness anybody had ever seen. He was a warning 'Captain' just before Jim decided to do something stupid and a risen eyebrow that held back the verbal 'I told you so' that Jim was pretty sure that he had earned five times over.

Somehow the action still seemed to scream the words blatantly though.

But Jim appreciated him doing it anyway.

The dizziness was gradually dissipating. Breathing slowly he let go of Spock's arm which in turn released his shoulder and then his hand as Jim pulled his own back. He stepped backwards, letting the world revolve for a second at the movement. After the floor seemed to be remaining where it should be, he looked up.

"Thanks," he said, managing a grin and breathing out in a sigh.

Spock seemed to be examining him.

"You do not seem to be having much luck today Captain, in regard to your well being", he stated, moving to stand against the opposite wall of the lift but his gaze still assessing.

Jim was about to give him an adamant 'tell me about it', accompanied by an effective roll of the eyes but Spock cut him off.

"How you are feeling currently?" he asked abruptly and suddenly.

Jim stopped, surprised at the question. "Ah, fine..." he stammered. "....great actually."

"Indeed?"

"Yeah, I think the hypo must still be working cause I feel as fit as a fiddle." he said, borrowing one of his mothers sayings and grinning despite himself.

Yeah...okay. Jim really didn't like it when Spock looked at him like he was a new form of specimen he had just discovered on a new and far away planet. It wasn't comforting in the least. He felt like he was about to be whipped away to a laboratory and dissected by a crazy scientist.

A crazy first officer scientist.

With pointy scalpels.

Sharp, pointy scalpels.

He shuddered.

"What?" he asked Spock trying to not squirm under the scrutiny, as the Vulcan continued to look at him, interest in his eyes.

"Captain, the hypo should have become ineffective over fifteen minutes ago."

Jim blinked.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Huh. That's weird."

No wonder he could actually produce legible thought.

"My sentiments exactly Jim." Spock said moving closer to him. "If Doctor McCoy's hypothesis of appendicitis is correct then you should currently be in immense pain and under the influence of extreme nausea such as before," he said. "And yet...." he trailed off gesturing at Jim.

"I'm as fit as a fiddle?" Jim asked, grinning again.

"Apparently," he said, his shoulders moving upwards slightly to what appeared to Jim as a shrug." "Despite, of course, the obvious discrepancies in that sentence."

Jim looked at him confused.

"How an old earth folk instrument can be in a sense 'fit' is quite beyond me, Captain."

He laughed and he saw Spock's lips twitch in response.

"You know what is even stranger though?" Jim asked, as he calmed his amusement and glanced around at the lift. It was something that he had caught onto the moment he was able to stand upright. The lift was moving way to slow for it to be working properly. With optimum power and with no one else requesting the use the lift, one of the machines could get a person to where they wanted to be in seconds.

"I do not."

Jim looked at Spock, who was in turn looking at him fascinatingly. He was actually quite surprised that his first officer hadn't picked up on it.

Then again, Spock did have to deal with him beforehand.

"We should also have been at the sickbay at least fifteen minutes ago as well."

Spock instantly straightened at his words, a slight frown replacing his slight smile as his somewhat casual demeanour fell aside and the more professional appeared.

"Weird huh?"

"Undeniably," Spock agreed, looking if anything, annoyed at himself. "I am amazed I did not notice such a fact sooner."

"Don't beat yourself up about it Spock. It's okay. You were having to cooperate with me being an idiot and all." Jim said reassuringly patting the Vulcan's shoulder.

Spock didn't answer. He was looking intently down at the floor and then at the ceiling as his gaze travelled upwards. He seemed to be listening to something as he tilted his head to the side.

"Spock?"Jim asked, letting his hand fall to his side.

"You are correct in determining that we are moving too slow" he said in reply, turning towards him. "The pulses of the canons within the hydro fixtures are slower than should be normal."

"Right....." Jim said drawing the word out as he processed what Spock had told him. He then grinned. "Well, that's easier enough to fix!"

He all but bounded over to a silver panel, situated near the command button for the doors as Spock's eyebrows rose.

"I did not realise that we had access to the correct equipment to fix such a problem."

Jim stopped. "Well we don't...exactly." The eyebrows lowered. "But being Captain does give you quite a few perks when it comes to manually hacking into the system," he said and threw a grin over his shoulder at the somewhat bemused Spock.

He looked back at the impenetrable titanium casing which housed most of the lifts circuitry.

Ah, well there was his first problem.

"Hey Spock," he asked turning around, all but running into the Vulcan who had moved to see what Jim was doing.

And if it were possibly life threatening.

"Yes Captain?"

Jim cleared his throat, moving to the side. "Do you think you can get this off?" he asked, gesturing toward the metal. Spock looked as the titanium and then leaned down. Jim let him examine the casing, pale hands moving along the slight creases that it made in the wall where it was inserted, allowing his own eyes to wander over those same features.

And then over the same hands.

The very nice, long and slender hands.

Son of a-

"With adequate time I should be able to remove the screws and be able to open it," Spock said, breaking into Jim's mental reprimand. He dropped his hands, just as Jim pulled his eyes from them, examining the metal casing once more before turning towards him. "Though they are tight they would not be completely impossible to move."

Jim stared at him dumbly and wondered what biological force seemed to always make Vulcan's so convoluted.

"I was just thinking more along the lines of rip...tear...you know," he said moving his hands in similar actions and then shrugging indifferently as Spock stared at him.

The Vulcan looked at the metal plate and then back at Jim, who shrugged again. He frowned, before placing his hands on the small metallic edge...

.....and pulling.

There was an abrupt screech as the plating seemed to just lift off with no bother, this idea in opposition with the amount of noise such an action made and the sparking it caused as some of the cords inside the box were torn. Jim ducked as a few sparks sprang in his direction, a few still catching on the right side of his face, burning him. He scrubbed at them trying to diffuse the sparks and the many small burns on his cheek and neck.

The lift suddenly vibrated to a halt, going motionless, as did the occupants of it. Spock stood silently at his side, hands still grasping the titanium block. They both looked at the tangle of wires and circuits in front of them. Spock spoke first breaking the silence.

"Captain?" he asked handing the metal plate to him without averting his gaze.

"Yes?" Jim answered, with something of a great effort, still looking ahead and accepting the plate.

"I believe we have stopped."

Jim sighed. "That seems to be the case Mr Spock."

"Was such an action meant to occur?"

"Yes...."

He saw an eyebrow being raised from the corner of his eye.

".....okay no. Not exactly."

"Very well. Do you currently know your next course of action, Sir?"

" It's coming to me..."

Another eyebrow.

"...slowly."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?"

"I'd somehow rather you didn't Mr Spock."

"A wise choice Captain."

"Yes....that's what I thought....."

They remained looking inside the circuit box until Jim rolled his eyes and threw the now useless piece of metal over his shoulder. "Okay enough with formalities," he said as the plate hit the wall and fell to the floor, making Spock wince at the resounding noise. "It's time to get this machine going strong again. Come on. "

He gave Spock a gentle shove with his shoulder and the Vulcan moved to the right allowing Jim to lean over and look more comfortably into the box. He was presented with a dark concave of different coloured wires that winded and wrapped around each other and eventually disappeared into the darkness.

It was, if anything, a gigantic mess.

And completely un-hackable unless you knew what each coloured wire signified.

"Jeez" Jim said, surprised, trying to look deeper inside. The state of it didn't get any better the further in you got it seemed. "Isn't it someone's job to make sure stuff doesn't get like this?" he asked Spock with raised eyebrows.

"Surprisingly no, Captain" Spock said, looking with just a hint of disapproval at the wires. "When lifts are put into the ship it is presumed that no work will need to be done on the actual machine itself as they can be completely controlled, fixed and monitored through engineering."

That in itself sounded stupid to Jim. Spock continued.

"Therefore, the titanium sheeting is put into place with the wiring inside and more than likely this," he gestured toward the wires, "would never be seen."

Jim scoffed remembering why he really didn't like design planners. They had more than likely never seen a starship, let alone been on one. All their ideas worked within their own mind but failed pitifully in the real world.

He picked up a white wire and looked at it closely. If he could remember rightly, the white wire was what linked the device to the main control sector. They would definitely need that to get this baby moving. He dropped it, looking at the wires, quickly putting colours with purposes within his mind. A hand came into view just as he was picking up a yellow wire and stole it from his hand. He frowned at his empty hand before looking around for the wire thief.

"Spock?"

His first officer was knelt in front of the opening looking intently at the wires, his eyes flicking back and forth across the jumbled mess. He dropped the yellow before picking up the white again, eyebrows lowered in concentration.

Obviously he didn't trust Jim not to nearly blow them up this time. Hmm...now that he thought about it there was actually a self destruct combination between two different coloured wires. He just couldn't remember which two it was exactly.

Probably not a good thing to forget.

"It needs to go with the red." Jim stated, picking up a thinner wire covered in a deep burgundy silicon material.

Spock looked at him sceptically, eyebrows raised, before looking down again.

Okay, not exactly the most trusting expression Jim could have hoped for.

"Seriously Spock, give me a bit of credit. I know what I'm talking about" he said, standing up and leaning against the wall. "I was the one who got to select the particular colours for the wires when the Enterprise had that upgrade a few months back. It was all part of a plan that the Captain could manually override the system if need be."

His first officer didn't look up.

"Spock..."

Spock's hands stilled at Jim's somewhat impatient tone and the Vulcan looked up at him.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, trying to look hurt. He saw Spock inhale through his nose and look back at the wires. He then turned to examine Jim's face, until finally looking at the wires again. He visibly sighed before picking the red coated wire up.

Jim grinned and playfully punched Spock's shoulder. "See, I knew you loved me," he joked as Spock connected the red and white wires. The lift started to move downwards, much quicker than before and Jim grinned triumphantly.

"See, I'm not a complete idi-"

The lift jolted downward cutting him off as the machine suddenly fell a few feet before stopping again. He regained his balance as Spock did so his own, before standing back up. They looked at each other a silent question passing between them.

And then the bottom of the lift dropped out from under their feet.

Or that's what it felt like to Jim anyway.

More correctly, he realised, the suspension units had failed.

Crap.

Before either could realise, the lift was plummeting downward at an uncontrollable speed. Both Jim and Spock slammed back to the floor as gravity caught up with them, sending them to their knees as their legs buckled and lost the fight to stay upright. He instinctively grabbed hold of Spock's arm as the Vulcan grasped hold of his shoulder.

"Oh god" Jim groaned, his knees throbbing as the lift seemed to increase in speed. He looked at Spock.

"We can't catch a fucking break, can we?" he all but shouted at him over the increasingly loud whirl of the lift as it plunged through the shaft. No way was he going to die in a fucking lift. That was so screwed he didn't even consider the possibility.

James T. Kirk- defender of Earth, conqueror of Nero, survivor of mass genocide, youngest captain in Starfleet history and a genius when he wanted to be.

James T. Kirk...

...squashed by a lift.

Nope, not going to happen.

He pulled his body toward the open panel which was now sparking so much it was like New Year's with fireworks, dragging Spock along behind him. He grabbed the white and red wires that Spock had connected, ignoring a searing burn that travelled up his hand and yanked them apart. He felt a hand pull his shirt back and he fell into warm arms just as the panel in front of him blew apart.

A violent shuddering jolt shook the lift sidewards as it slowed considerably but continued to hurl downwards still throwing the occupants flying.

Jim flew from Spock's arms and hit the opposite wall, his head and back cracking sickeningly against the hard surface, before he slid quickly down to a sitting position on the floor just as Spock himself lost his balance and was thrown in much of the same direction. Jim put his hand up to ward of the possibly crushing weight of his first officer as Spock himself concurrently reached up to support himself against the wall above Jim's head. There was a resounding and painful thud as the lift slammed into what he could only presume was the bottom deck, the doors whipping opening as the machine crashed to a halt, shuddering as one of the many other panels sparked daringly and the whirling sputtered out.

"Bloody hell" Jim gasped, reaching up to hold onto his throbbing head with one hand as the other spread against the blue clad chest of the Vulcan leaning over him. He could already feel a bump forming beneath his hair and he didn't doubt that a headache would soon follow.

Spock's shoulders slumped as he breathed deeply. He let his head fall between his outstretched arms, eyes closed, seeming to give up on maintaining the nonchalant facade he always wore, as he supported his weight above Jim. Neither bothered to move. They didn't know what else could happen but Jim seriously didn't think it could get much worse than being shaken around like you were in a blender. A tingling sensation was making its way through his back and shoulders and he shuddered trying to shake it off.

And then stopped horrified.

His head came up at the same time that Spock's did, their eyes catching and widening simultaneously, before they both together turned slowly to their left.

Scotty, plus half of the entire engineering crew, looked on, staring at the wreckage of the lift and the scene inside it. Most of them were gaping none the less but Jim could go so far as to say that some of them even looked horror-struck. He felt a warm liquid trickle down the side of his face and he moved his hand across it, trying to wipe whatever it was away.

His hand came away red and he stared at the blood staining his fingers.

"Spock..." he said looking up at his battered first officer from the floor. He could already see a faint green bruise blossoming on his cheek as well as numerous burns just like his scattered across the opposite cheek. Spock looked questionably down at him and Jim swallowed, smiling shakily.

"...let's take the stairs next time."


Oh, please forgive me for the wait but I really like having a week for each chapter as it means that I can really look over my writing and correct anything I think needs to be changed.

Ignore my sorry attempt at techno babble as I already know it's horrific.

I'm also sorry for the occasional swearing if it bothered you- I just thought Jim should vent himself before he exploded :)

Ciao!