A/N: Robin Snyder - you're a legend. Thank you for your emails. You raise me up, as Josh Groban would sing.

VI. Comatose.

Hikaru Sulu pressed his communicator so that the frequency closed. Glancing up, he met the concerned stare of Pavel Chekov, who sat at the helm next to him.

"Eets bad, no?"

Sulu sighed. "Yeah, it sounds pretty bad." He glanced over his shoulder to see the captain's chair still empty. Technically, Sulu had the con, but the melancholy tone that had alarmed him over his communicator beckoned at him darkly. His fingers absently tracing over his communicator, he looked back at Chekov.

"Ze keptin isn't back yet. I vonder if he and Meester Spock are still going at it."

"This is crazy, but I'm going to have to leave you here."

Chekov's eyes widened. "You, too?"

"Pav, I've got to see what's up with Amelia. She sounded desperate." Sulu looked back past the captain's chair in the direction of Uhura, who was out of her seat pressing buttons at her console. He politely whistled in her direction, and despite getting looks from other crewmen passing by, caught the eye of Uhura as she nonchalantly glanced over her shoulder in his direction.

Double-taking, Nyota Uhura straightened, pressing a finger to her earpiece as she hurried over to him. Crouching behind the helmsmen chairs, she said, no louder than a whisper, "What's up?"

"I'm going to leave my post for a moment," Sulu replied. "You and Chekov will be in charge. If Jim comes back before I do, make up some kind of lie for me."

"What's going on?" Nyota asked, looking worried.

Sulu leaned in closer. "Amelia just hailed me. Something bad has happened. She couldn't explain over the frequency."

Nyota nodded. "Okay, okay." She quickly glanced back toward the center of the bridge. "You don't think Spock or Jim are involved, do you? They're still gone."

Sulu shrugged. "I don't really know. All I know is, this little meet'n'greet to Trill is already laden with bad omens."

"Aye," Chekov put in. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

Nyota shared a nod of weary agreement with both of them. "Okay, if Jim gets back before you, I'll say you had an emergency and needed to go to the restroom."

"That will work. Jim wouldn't inquire about that."

Sulu stood, Nyota straightening to join him. "Just to cover our asses, let Scotty know Chekov's got the con. Though with our luck, we'll run into a fleet of Klingons."

Nyota hurriedly returned to her console where she took a seat and immediately hailed Scotty to explain the situation.

Meanwhile, Sulu looked down at Chekov, whose wide Russian eyes rounded out into two innocent orbs on his youthful face. Sulu gave his shoulder a squeeze and whispered, "I'll be right back," and made his way across the bridge with a swift stride.

It didn't take Sulu long to reach the crew quarters, where he proceeded through the familiar corridors until he came to a particularly familiar door. Pressing his hand to the panel on the side of the doorway, he waited patiently for the door to slide open. As it slid out of sight to his right, Sulu came to see Amelia standing against a vanity, with her back to him.

She caught his eye in the mirror, and then turned to face him, cheeks red and tear-stained, lips drawn tightly together.

Sulu rushed to her, and Amelia collapsed against him in despair. Throwing her arms around his neck for support, they both sank to the floor in a heap, Sulu rubbing her back as he always did when she needed a shoulder to cry on – or in this case, a chest to cry into. He glanced around the room to make sure they were alone; the only other bed in the small room was vacant, thus indicating Amelia's frequently absent computer programmer roommate was either on duty or with her boyfriend. A wave of relief overcame him; they'd have plenty of alone-time.

"Tell me everything," he murmured into her hair.

Amelia clasped Sulu's chest tightly, breathing him in. He smelled like home - everything comforting and familiar. She was instantly caught up in a memory of falling in front of her bedroom mirror with Hikaru nearby to catch the frustration-bred tears after hours upon hours of practicing. Her skin tingled as she recalled cold evenings locked away together in their fort in Amelia's backyard after stern parental scoldings about her less-than-perfect marks in Japanese class, which always brought crushing shame because she couldn't satisfy her teacher's inhuman requests.

He'd held her as she vented about her parents constantly nagging her to force Hikaru to propose to her after graduation. He'd held her when she'd said her tearful goodbye to him as she boarded the shuttle craft to relocate to the planet Tavaan after her brief term with him at the San Francisco branch of Starfleet Academy. Since their late childhood, Hikaru had always been there in her darkest hours, and she had been there in his – with him as he announced to his family and to hers that he was gay.

But through it all, Amelia had been an open book for Sulu to understand and analyze constructively. Even with his soothing voice beckoning respectfully for her pages to fall open once again, a large rock weighed heavy in her stomach. Despite bad ballet rehearsals or clumsy Japanese etiquette, infidelity did not seem like anything that could pass between her lips, even to him. Somehow a large, fierce ball of guilt ripped at her despite her innocence … she was innocent, wasn't she? After all, there had been consent given … from most of the parties involved. The crash of Leonard's PADD smashing into the wall of his office clamored around the inside of her skull on repeat. The dark look in his eyes pierced her soul; she had poured salt on the stab wound to his heart that was just now beginning to heal. She'd watched the blood run today, but could she muster the will to speak of such a crime?

A firm rub on her back from the caring hand of Sulu seemed to ease the fire. Amelia inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on his chest. Perhaps maybe if she didn't watch the confession, it wouldn't be so sinful …

"I'm going to have to sleep with Spock," she whispered, her lips brushing almost romantically against the fabric of his tunic.

Hikaru's hand ceased. She felt his head lift from the top of her head, but his grip remained tight around her. "What did you say?" He gently held her out at arm's length, trying to catch her eye, still trying to soothe her by massaging her arms with his thumbs. "Amelia?"

Amelia's eyelids barely parted before tears poured out from between them. Her bottom lip quivered. "I'm going to have to sleep with Spock."

Sulu's face contorted with blatant confusion. His tone remaining even, he queried gently, "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said." Amelia released herself from him and brought her knees up to her chin, hugging her shins tightly. Hikaru's hands rested upon her knees as they usually did after a bad ballet rehearsal. "His medical condition requires it."

"Medical condition?" Sulu repeated. "Since when does sleeping with someone cure an ailment?"

"It's Vulcan, I don't know."

"But why you? What about Skylar?"

"Skylar can't. She's ordered to be on Trill."

"So, Spock isn't going to be on the away team?"

Amelia shook her head slowly, staring off beyond Sulu.

"I knew there was something wrong with him, but …" Sulu gave her knees a gentle squeeze. "Ams, there has to be another way," he said softly.

"There isn't." She stared directly into his eyes. "I have to help Spock. He could be dangerous to this mission and to the crew."

Sulu's brow furrowed uneasily. "If he's so dangerous, why are you being sent into the lion's den? Who's told you to do this?"

"I volunteered."

"On whose suggestion?"

"The captain's."

Now Sulu was angry. He released her, his palms down on either side of him. "Jim wanted this? Did he even consider what Leonard or Skylar would say?"

"Leonard was there."

Sulu's eyes widened. "And he just went along with it?" he inquired incredulously.

"He blew up!" Amelia snapped. "What the hell do you think, Su? I'm sure he absolutely hates me right now."

Hikaru waited a moment and then continued, "What about Skylar?"

"She was absolutely furious when it was suggested that Spock find another mate to cure his pon farr thing."

"She's angry with you …"

Amelia lowered her eyes. "She doesn't know that it's me yet."

Hikaru slowly moved next to Amelia and attempted to wrap an arm around her shoulder, but Amelia suddenly scooted away from him. "What …?"

Amelia turned away from him, staring down at her hands curled in her lap. "Honestly, I don't want to be touched right now … I feel absolutely dirty."

"It's just me, Amelia," Sulu reassured her. "I'm your best friend."

Amelia struggled to her feet. She turned to him as he rose gracefully from the floor, and met his gaze dejectedly. "I love you, Hikaru. But I need you to leave."

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned, hurt.

"You can't help me this time," she replied darkly. "I've made my choice. I need to figure this out." Amelia eyed the door. "Please leave."

Sulu shook his head angrily as though trying and retrying to assess the situation and failing miserably. Finally, gritting his teeth, he smartly turned on his heel and marched out of the room with his hands gripped into fists at his sides. He stopped only when he had made it through the labyrinth of twisting corridors that made up the crewmen's quarters, where he leaned against a wall with his head back and eyes closed, his brain on overload as the hustle and traffic of the corridor echoed the disturbance that flooded his mind.

:::::

Leonard McCoy's voice over the ship's PA system may have sounded like the typical doctor with a nasty disposition to most, but to a few, it was like nails on a chalkboard.

"Lt. Skylar Pike and Amelia Takashi, please report to Sick Bay immediately."

The activity on the bridge seemed to be flowing in slow motion for Sulu, Chekov and Uhura. Sulu had returned to his post, Jim following shortly after, but the captain had hardly said anything to anyone. Instead, he had returned to his chair and sat with his chin rested on his hand as he watched the stars pass by on the view screen. He had signed off on a few things for the yeomen and other crewmen that had stopped by with their PADDs, but remained quiet regardless. Finally, after a few hours of mostly silence with some brief orders to the helm about remaining on course, Jim called in his relief. As he bade everyone a well remainder of their shifts, Jim paused and stared over at the helm where Sulu and Chekov sat silently, focused on their view screens.

"Sulu," Jim called.

Sulu smartly turned his chair. "Captain?"

"Call in your relief. I need you well-rested for tomorrow's mission. You're joining the away team."

Sulu's eyes darted to Chekov's, but Chekov merely gave the tiniest hint of a shrug and remained silent. "Sir, I –"

"That's an order, Mr. Sulu," Jim had interrupted firmly as he began heading towards the turbo lift. "I'll see you for briefing at 0700 in my office." The turbo lift's doors had opened, allowing the captain to walk in and disappear behind them as they closed.

Sulu put a call in for his relief, and as he waited for the new helmsman, he briefly filled a curious Chekov and Uhura in on what Amelia had told him, without specifics. He did not mention anything about what Amelia's assignment had been; instead, he told them that Spock was in Sick Bay, terribly ill. But before he could say any more, the voice of Doctor McCoy filled the ship. And while Chekov and Uhura could only wonder idly how bad the situation with Mr. Spock was, Sulu's grip tightened on the helm console in anger.

Hikaru Sulu was not the only person aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise to be publicly displaying anger. Leonard jabbed at his replacement PADD tablet as he took down a few notes in his office. The clapping of boots heels smacking the floor outside of his office caused him to raise an eyebrow as his office door opened and closed with a hiss. Leonard looked up to see Skylar standing just inside the door, still with the sweatshirt on and her hair in its low pony tail. Her eyes were red. He also noted some new bruising along her knuckles.

"Why did you call me here?" she questioned irritably. "I'm off duty."

Leonard straightened up on his stool, crossing his arms over his chest. "I thought you'd like to know the details on your boyfriend." His tone was anything but pleasant.

Skylar's stare matched his tone exactly. "Why did you call Amelia in here as well?"

Leonard smacked his lips and chuckled bitterly. "This entire thing is … complicated, Sky. You and I are both aware of that."

"We seem to be the only ones aware of that," Skylar spat. "Where the hell is Jim?"

"Did you see how the PMP office is curtained off as of now?"

Skylar glanced back, even though the door cut off her view to the outer office. "Yeah," she muttered, returning her gaze to Leonard.

"That's because Jim is with Spock, behind it. Spock's been hooked up to the monitor for the last few hours, and that's where he'll be for the rest of the night. We're going to need guards on duty. I'll need you to assign them as soon as possible."

"'Them'?"

"I'm requesting at least two per shift, Lieutenant," Leonard explained. "His vitals are off the chart and his attitude is less than poor. He's already smashed two of my PADDs, three hypos – did you smell that soupy aroma as you walked in through the office?"

"I don't really care about food right now," Skylar retorted heatedly.

"Neither does Spock. He managed to throw a bowl of Plomeek soup Nurse Chapel had prepared for him across the room, where it smashed against the wall, and now I have to smell that shit every time I open my office door."

"Cry me a river, Bones," Skylar said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'll have a team sent up here immediately. Is that it? I assume he's going to live and all."

Leonard said nothing. Instead, he stood, tucking the PADD under his arm.

Skylar eyed him closely as he walked to her.

"Follow me, Skylar." He opened the office door and allowed her through, just as Amelia walked up. Amelia instantly stopped at the sight of them exiting Leonard's office. Not looking at her in the eye, Leonard attempted to be casual with a clearing of his throat and an "Ah, Lieutenant Takashi, after you," as he gestured toward the curtain.

Not amused, Amelia led the way through the curtain as Leonard held it open for them. Gathering around the edge of a medical cot, they witnessed Spock lying topless upon the white sheet; his heart monitor thudded from above him at an irregular pace – a pace they all, aside from Leonard, figured must be normal for a Vulcan's circulatory physique. An injector module was attached to his right arm. Other than that, he was not connected to any other piece of Sick Bay equipment, yet Spock remained perfectly still as though he'd been put under.

His dark eyes were open, but almost rolled back into his head. The natural green tinge to his skin was even more apparent across his broad chest and his face. At his sides, Spock's long, slender fingers twitched slightly every so often, the only indication of actual life in his body.

Jim, standing beside the head of the bed, looked up as they assembled. "Is he going to be okay, Bones? He hasn't responded to anything I've said to him."

"And he won't, Jim."

Skylar took a small step closer to the edge of the bed. Her heart picked up its pace in her chest as her fingertips absently reached for the Vulcan's bare foot. "What are you giving him?" she asked, seemingly transfixed by the injector module.

Adjusting the PADD under his arm he darted a glance in Amelia's direction, Leonard replied matter-of-factly, "An extremely mild sedative. To be honest, I haven't done much with him. He was horribly uncooperative during the initial exam, but then he suddenly went into this trance-like state. I've been pulling up documents on Vulcan physiology, and I believe Spock is inducing some kind of intense meditation."

"Do you think he's changed his mind about mating with someone else?" Skylar asked, a hopeful tone entering the question despite her efforts to remain stoic.

Leonard sighed, giving those ranged at Spock's bedside individual glances. "Look, everyone. Let me be absolutely frank on this situation; Vulcan physiology is a very different from our own, and knowledge on the subject is hard to come by unless you have a cooperative Vulcan around to interrogate. The Academy is still issuing new data as often as it can, and being that I'm on a starship, I'm not going to be the first to receive the latest information. All I know for certain is that Spock's health is deteriorating at a swift pace."

"What?" chimed all three of the bystanders in alarm.

"But the meditation –" Amelia began, but Leonard cut her off gently.

"The meditation is self-inflicted and is – I'm guessing – a friendly gesture towards me. Like I've told you all, the effects of pon farr are critical. He's been violent and uncooperative, and now his health is at risk."

"How much of a risk are we talking, here, Bones?" Jim questioned firmly.

"Death, Jim."

Skylar's jaws clenched together. Amelia shut her eyes slowly, bowing her head.

"How much time do we have?" Jim asked after a moment.

"Days."

"Specifically?"

Leonard shook his head. "I can't give you specifics with any accuracy, but I'd have to say a week at most, based on the current vitals." He placed a hand on Skylar's shoulder from behind. "He's known for a few days that this was coming … he just didn't say anything to anyone. It's that damn Vulcan complex of his."

Skylar turned to him. "Who's going to do it, Bones? Who is she?"

Leonard did not say anything as he allowed his hand to slip off of her shoulder.

"I am," came the solemn voice of Amelia Takashi.

Skylar turned to her, eyes glittering sadly.

"It's not what you think, Skylar," Amelia said firmly as she stared down her friend with an intense gaze. "I am doing this only to save a life."

"To save a life," Skylar repeated in a bitter mutter.

"You heard what Leonard said."

"… save a life."

"Spock is going to die. He's going to die if I don't help him." Amelia's eyes darted towards Leonard, who lowered his gaze in a mournful manner.

Jim took a step towards Skylar. "You cannot be angry with her, Sky," he said gently. "She is making a sacrifice; that's all it is." Jim caught the glance of Leonard, who seemed highly interested in what the captain was saying. Jim restated, "It's nothing more than a sacrifice. It means nothing."

Skylar did not break away from Amelia's intense stare. Her hands were balled into tight fists, her nails digging into the hot flesh of her palms. Her jaw was locked shut, and her heart pounded like the fists of a prisoner against the cage of her chest.

The room felt suddenly hot – too hot. A dark tide was beginning to sweep over her again, and her mind flickered and raced like an old movie on fast forward – Skylar smashing the mirror with her fist; Skylar shoving crewmates aside as she stomped violently through the bowels of the Enterprise, radiating the acid violence that had been welling up and surging through her veins of late.

Her mind flashed back to that last night with Spock, feeling his teeth painfully marking her, his large hands roughly grabbing and squeezing her flesh. Only now did she understand his fury, as though she were connected to him by one of Dr. McCoy's instruments – she could feel for a split second an explosion of desire that electrified out from her core, igniting the rest of her through violent waves of emotion. Skylar was instantly aware that she would become lethal.

Wait.

Everything was black. She could see none of her friends. In the space between the blink of her eye, the entire room had been engulfed in a silent darkness. Skylar could see nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing. It was as though she existed merely as a ghost, if that.

Control.

A voice. It was loud and tangible in the desolate emptiness, even as its frozen wavelengths chilled her nonexistent body.

Skylar opened her eyes and looked up at Jim Kirk as he held her against his chest. Her hands were cold, and she realized that they were both on the floor. She was on the floor, with Jim. Blinking several times, trying to focus, Skylar watched Leonard bend over her with the removable scanner from his medical tricorder, moving it over her head in a couple of slow waves.

"What happened?" she asked of them both, out of breath.

Leonard stood upright and plugged the scanner into his tricorder. "Just a basic faint. You register healthy; your cardiovascular activity has hastened a bit, but with all of the emotional turmoil going around, everyone's hearts are a bit off their turntables." He glanced over his shoulder. "I really think you need to lie down, Skylar. Get some rest. This is all a lot to digest, but you'll do yourself no good by remaining here."

Turning away, he quickly added over his shoulder, "I need to take care of something, but if you want to take a sedative back to your quarters for tonight, I'll leave one on the counter." Leonard disappeared behind the curtain, leaving her alone with Jim and the cot's prostrate Vulcan inhabitant. After a moment, a whirring signaled the opening and then the closing of the door to his quarters.

Skylar glanced up at Jim again, and then attempted to force herself into a sitting position. Jim, lightly chuckling, assisted her. "Calm down, Turbo. After a stunt like that, you're not entirely independent yet."

"I fainted?" she asked as she struggled to her feet. After a few seconds of humiliating failure, she reluctantly allowed Jim to aid her.

He took her around the waist and carefully stood her upright. "Yeah, right after you started mumbling incoherently."

Skylar's eyes locked onto Spock's seemingly lifeless body. Resting her fists on the bed, she turned her face to her captain. "I can't leave him, Jim." A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I hate him so much right now … but I, I just can't go. It doesn't feel right."

"You need to rest, Skylar. Spock is going to be okay. And you know he'd think it illogical for you to be here when you have to take care of yourself. There's nothing you can do here."

Skylar turned back toward the Vulcan. "Do you think he can comprehend what we're saying?"

"I don't know. He hasn't responded to anything that's been said this entire time." He took her wrist. "Come on. I'll walk with you."

Skylar pulled her hand away. "Give us a moment?" It was a simple request, made in a voice with a slight quaver, but Jim nodded amiably. He pressed Spock's lifeless hand in his own for a brief second, murmured something too low for her to hear, and then headed out between the divide in the curtains.

Once Jim was out of sight, Skylar slowly moved to the head of the bed. Spock did not move. He did not acknowledge her in any way. His eyes continued to stare up at an awkward angle, the nictitating membrane under each of his eyelids barely visible as his eyelids lightly quivered atop his eyes. Skylar reached out and tenderly cupped a hand to his green-flushed cheek. Spock did not respond. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on his unmoving lips, but they did not move, did not mold themselves to her own.

Skylar whispered against them, "I wish I was her."

:::::

Amelia tearfully paced back and forth before Leonard's bed, hugging herself as if holding her chest together. "I'm not going to stay long," she said quietly, her gaze on the floor. "I just wanted Skylar to have a moment."

"You can stay if you want," Leonard replied gruffly, pulling his tunic off over his head and tossing it onto the floor near his bed. Moving past her, he sat on the edge of the bed and began removing his boots.

"No," Amelia said. She paused, listening. "I think they've left."

"Amelia, calm down."

Amelia whirled around, angry. "Calm down?" she repeated. "Really intriguing, coming from you, Leonard McCoy!"

Tossing his boots aside, Leonard let his head drop into his hands. Taking a deep breath, he ran his fingers through his hair and tiredly looked up at her. "This isn't easy for any of us."

"I never implied that it was," Amelia snapped.

Leonard's brow furrowed darkly. "Yeah, well, it sure looked that way, since you practically jumped up and down like a giddy school girl looking for a date to the dance," he countered bitterly.

Amelia placed her hands on her hips, thoroughly offended. "I don't know where the hell you were, Dr. McCoy, but I was a part of a dire meeting in which a friend was silently asking for help – in this case, for his life to be saved. And I did not jump into anything like a giddy school girl. You're delusional, Leonard. Your wild temper is anything but cute." She glared at him. "You're also being a complete asshole."

Amelia turned on her heel and was headed for the door when suddenly her elbow was caught in a firm grip. "Let go of me!" she barked, but Leonard gently refused as he pulled her close to him. Amelia was not won over, stiffening as she was pressed into his bare chest, his muscular arms engulfing her in a warm embrace. It wasn't until she felt the strong, stalwart doctor shudder against her that she was shocked into reducing her resistance. Leonard's head rested in the crook of her neck, his lips against her skin. He held her tightly, but this was not his normal embrace of dominance, nor an overture to a sexual liaison; Leonard was looking to be held.

Relenting, Amelia slipped her arms around him, pressing him against her. "Oh, Leonard," she whispered, melancholy.

"I hate this," he stated gruffly.

"I am not thrilled about this either," Amelia told him, maintaining a firm tone. "And you are not making this any easier on me."

He picked his head up and looked down at her, the hardness of his stare melting away. "You don't understand how I feel; I love you, Amelia."

His words were like an arrow through her heart. In an instant, everything she had planned to tell him that evening – everything she had giggled about with Scotty, all of her expectations and plans for how she was going to tell him those three words, all shattered like a stone to a window. Her mouth fell agape, her eyes brimming with sudden tears.

Any woman expecting her significant other – whom she had secretly loved for years – to utter those words would have cried in the same moment, but they would have done so in joy. Not Amelia; as if the series of unfortunate events of the day had not been hard enough, a cruel reality stepped in to harshly slap everything Amelia had desired to hear and to say across its face. The poison of the blow seized her heart in its iron fist and laughed mercilessly.

She was instantly reminded of everything she had told Nyota, Pavel and Hikaru in the mess hall that afternoon about her take on love and sex and everything in between. She thought of what Hikaru must have been thinking now, as he knew her dark secret. A wave of guilt rushed over her and a cloak of hypocrisy shrouded her. A piece of her wanted to step away from the scene and laugh.

Amelia closed her eyes and pressed her lips to the bare skin in front of her face. She tried to make herself believe that these long-awaited words from him would make everything better, but her heart was as just knowledgeable as her mind. Not even her kiss to his chest or the one that Leonard placed on her forehead could relieve the pain that had corrupted her heart.

She wondered which was the better alternative in terms of attempts to rectify the moment: she could tell Leonard the truth and admit her love for him, though doing so would eventually ruin them both if she continued to aid Spock in his predicament; or she could say nothing at all in an effort to shield his heart, and in doing so hurt him with her lack of response. The wheels in her brain hastily churned – which was the more logical option? Which road offered less pain – since neither appeared to offer a chance at salvation from their doomed course?

The normally reliable wheels locked. She stood erect in a coma. In a merciful jest by fate, Leonard McCoy said nothing at all, but instead, remained in her embrace until Amelia kissed him one last time, extracted herself, and promptly left the room.

:::::

Sleep was not a commodity any of them could acquire.

Jim lay on his bed with his hands tucked behind his head. His eyes were focused beyond the skeleton of his ship, far out into space where Trill hung suspended in its own gravitational system, as simple as it was. Though he made no outward movements, his mind raced. His body talked to him, whispered to him for a release. Too much hung in uncertain suspension. He thought of the loss of his first officer on his away team roster; he thought of his friend seemingly comatose in Sick Bay. His mind lingered on a very conflicted couple who stood on the brink of a pit of no return. He worried over a mission that was nothing like anyone on the Enterprise was accustomed to: wine 'em and dine 'em. How simple a task to have evolved into such a demanding trial. Doom clung to this mission, though Jim could not find the courage to speak such a thought aloud. Even in the presence of nothingness, he could not force the words from between his lips.

Jim thought of his bridge crew, his friends. It would be no surprise if they were questioning what had been going on. If anyone knew anything, he knew it was Sulu. Sulu and Amelia were terribly tight. It would be no surprise to him that everything he would brief Sulu on at 0700 would not be news to him. But being the respectful gentleman that he was, Jim expected his surprise and questionless understanding. He was sure Chekov would silently remain loyal, though frustrated in a lack of comprehension. Jim could tell that Chekov operated more comfortably when his partner was at the helm with him. It was not as though Chekov could not handle his tasks flawlessly without Sulu, but there was always a blatantly missing sense of enthusiasm whenever one of the pair was missing, especially on Chekov's end.

Jim also thought about Nyota. He knew how perceptive she was, especially about him. The girl was incredibly bright; she would play along professionally, much like Sulu, but Jim would not underestimate her. Nyota would need to be informed of everything. He needed her on her game should anything go terribly wrong. With all of the uncertainty Jim knew everyone was feeling, he imagined that everyone was on the same ship as he.

The only one of his friends that might have escaped any of this was Spock. But even then his dear friend was trapped on a whole other realm of problems, problems none of them could understand. Except maybe …

Jim's mind tiptoed in the direction of Skylar. As of now, she was to be regarded as his yeoman. Whether or not she could pull this off was beyond him to guess, now. But Jim had noticed something in her, something different. She was not anything like herself, despite the terrible deeds of the day. This put them all in a vulnerable position to their hosts. The Trills would have many opportunities to see the sudden infection of folly in his famed crew, but if they could just make it through two days on the planet, then perhaps everything would be okay. The Trills would accept their proposal to erect a Starfleet outpost. Jim's reputation would remain in good standing. Everything would go back to normal. Mostly. There would still be plenty of emotional details to iron out. Tomorrow night would be the determining factor of what would become of his crew. The anticipation killed him. He wanted his friends to be okay, and he definitely wanted Spock to be okay. But the weight of the Federation was beginning to take its toll on him.

Jim sighed heavily. He eyed the digital clock in the alcove next to him where shelves of easily accessible books and other trinkets from home awaited his need or desire. Eying the time, he noted that he should have been asleep a few hours ago, but with the excitement in Sick Bay and walking Skylar back to her thoroughly trashed quarters, time had escaped him.

Her skant had been strewn across the floor amongst other articles of clothes. He recalled seeing her wearing it the day he'd visited her in her office, the day in which the weirdness began. Skylar in a skant – absolutely topsy-turvy, he concluded.

One of Jim's hands crept out from behind his head and his fingers traced down his bare, chiseled chest, over the ridges of his abdomen, until it came to rest at the elastic of his boxer briefs. Closing his eyes slowly, he waited a moment, taking a deep breath in, and as he exhaled, he turned over and shook his head.

"Fuck," he grumbled, pouting.