Spock had to face the logical facts. His head was pounding, his throat was sore, and his stomach was unsettled. Given the knowledge that there had been an outbreak of Rigelian Kassaba fever ever since returning from a reconnaissance mission, it was a logical assumption to state that Spock had caught the Rigelian Kassaba fever.

Logic, however often a cruel way of thinking, was the only acceptable solution to any given problem. That was how Spock woke a half hour early in preparation to admit himself into Sickbay. At this time of morning, he was sure that Doctor McCoy would not be awake. Oftentimes, the doctor would not arrive in the medical bay until late, a cup of black coffee in his hand and his eyes still lacking intent due to exhaustion. The logical solution would be for McCoy to go to bed earlier so that he would be more rested in the morning, but that never did seem to cross the doctor's mind.

Besides, as far as Spock could tell, McCoy never gave much thought to his own health, only to anyone else's. It was not logical.

The medical bay doors slid open and the familiar scent of medicinal remedies and disinfectant met his sense of smell. He strode into the pristine, although occupied, medical bay, seeking out Nurse Chapel. The woman in particular had a penchant for playing servant to him on some occasion, so Spock thought it was wise to seek someone who he knew would be willing to help eradicate his illness.

"Commander Spock," Chapel greeted, although her smile was marred by worry from the instant she looked up.

"Nurse, it would seem wise to examine me for the symptoms of Rigelian Kassaba fever. I have been exhibiting symptoms."

"Oh, not you, too, Commander. We've had too many cases this week. Let me call M'Benga for you and he'll examine you."

Spock took a seat silently on the nearest free biobed, the screen immediately picking up his stats. They were just as he expected them to be: respiration up, pulse up, blood pressure up. A miniscule change to his normal stats, but a change nonetheless that signalled an internal infection.

"He'll be with you shortly, Mr Spock," Chapel said, peering up at the screen. "Can you explain your symptoms?" she asked, taking her medical tricorder in hand and holding it nearby.

"I experienced an intense headache last night at 2300 hours. It was followed by brief periods of light-headedness and nausea. I have also been unnaturally cold and tired." Spock reeled his symptoms off in a monotone, the high-pitched whirring of the tricorder making his ears throb. "It seems that I am experiencing some sensitivity to sound, as well."

"You have an elevated temperature. M'Benga will have to check it against Vulcan readings, but it higher than checked at your last physical."

"Commander," a voice greeted and Spock looked up to the smiling face of M'Benga. "You've caught the fever, too, Christine says."

"His temperature is elevated. As well as his other stats, I think it's a case of the Rigelian fever, M'Benga," Chapel stated, speaking to M'Benga. "I called for you due to your knowledge of Vulcan physiology. If that's what it is, I'll give him a dose of Stokaline."

"Alright, Nurse." M'Benga looked up at Spock. "Shall we hunt out the source of those symptoms, then?"

Spock frowned as he stared into the scanner. "It's some type of debris."

"From what, Spock?"

"If I knew, Captain, I would have specified." He looked away from the scanner, blinking against the after image of the glow.

His morning in medical bay had not gone for naught. M'Benga had concurred with Nurse Chapel's diagnosis. As Spock had thought, he had fallen ill with the Rigelian Kassaba fever. As a course of treatment, he had been administered the correct dosage of Stokaline and he'd refused rest on the grounds that he was expected on the Bridge in the next hour. M'Benga had said not to worry about any sudden nausea- as with all hyposprays, this one would turn his stomach as well- and that, as was typical with the Rigelian fever, Spock would need to return for periodic treatments throughout the next three days. Each hypospray would only effect him for a short time, but once there was enough of the antibiotic in his blood stream, the fever would no longer be able to survive.

As was with any dosage of Stokaline, his initial dose was wearing off. It had helped. The headache had dulled, he had been able to withstand Kirk's overly enthusiastic greeting as he bounded onto the Bridge ten minutes late, and he was within a reasonable temperature to his own skin again.

But now, not only had the previous symptoms returned, new ones had surfaced. He was experiencing sensitivity to light now as well as sound, he was growing increasingly irritable by design of the headache that was turning into a migraine, and his stomach was churning miserably.

"I need an answer, Spock," Kirk muttered, eyes on the screen at the front of the ship.

"I cannot provide an answer to a question that I have insufficient data for," Spock retorted coldly, straightening up.

The Bridge door slid open, but Spock didn't look up to see who it was. It would have been unnecessary because, a moment later, his name was called in a voice he knew too well.

"Spock! You sneaking green-blooded hobgoblin!"

Spock looked up, trying to feign disinterest. He raised an eyebrow, meeting Doctor McCoy's livid gaze. "Is there a problem?"

"Yes, the problem is you're carrying Rigelian Kassaba fever throughout the halls!" McCoy barked, turning to Jim. "Did you know about this?"

Kirk looked between Spock and McCoy. "What? Know about what?"

"Spock's got that fever that a few of the landing party caught after recon, latest mission."

Spock wanted to sigh, instead permitted himself a moment to briefly flare his nostrils and turn back to the scanner. No change on the debris floating in space, although he wished that there had been. He would rather distinguish debris types than be berated by their ship's Chief Medical Officer. It wasn't as though Spock had been trying to avoid Doctor McCoy this morning; he simply hadn't desired for the man's company during his exam.

"Spock?"

Spock looked up at Kirk's voice and turned in his chair to meet his gaze. "It is true that I admitted myself, briefly, to Sickbay this morning for an exam. When it was found that I had what I thought I had fallen ill with, the necessary antibiotics were administered. I saw no reason for me to refrain from attending to my duties."

"Dammit, Spock, germs!"

Spock looked back at Doctor McCoy. "Is it not the point of an antibiotic to stop any potential contagious matter from spreading?"

"Yeah, but you're a Vulcan, not a human! These things don't work like they do on us. Get your arse down to Sickbay, Spock, now!"

"I do not find it necessary for my sitting in medical bay when I am fit. However, I am due for another dosage of Stokaline, so, if you will excuse me, Captain?" He stood, straightening his shirt.

"He excuses you," McCoy said, ushering him out.

Spock calmly looked across the Bridge at Kirk, awaiting the dismissal.

"Dammit, Spock-"

"Go on," Kirk said. "Chekov, take over the scanner. Sulu, you're on your own for now. Spock," he said, looking back at him. "Take the rest of the day off."

Spock frowned and opened his mouth to protest, although found it prudent to close it very quickly again when bile clawed its way to the back of his throat. He knew arguing the point of his health was only worsening it. Each moment that he spent overexerting himself was a moment that he could have spent in a meditative trance or sitting quietly. Arguing, much less with a doctor, was going to get him nowhere.

"As you wish... Captain," he said, turning to stride from the Bridge.

He could practically hear McCoy smirking and fuming at the same time as they stepped onto the turbolift. The doctor was smug for the fact that he had finally caught up with Spock and angry for the fact that Spock was overexerting himself. Or perhaps he was simply annoyed that he had missed up a chance to continue his taunts on him. It was undecipherable to Spock.

He swallowed back bile for the second time and chose to lengthen his stride, hastening for the shared lavatory down the hall. It was more healthy to vomit than keep swallowing his own bile and it was also likely that the action would improve his state of turmoil. Not to mention that the nausea would increase as soon as he was injected with another dose of Stokaline.

"Spock-"

Spock held up one hand, one finger, in the human signal of one moment. He didn't wait to see if McCoy was going to allow him a moment or not; there was no available moment to spare.

When he had finished, he straightened up, rubbed the back of his hand against his mouth and exited the cubicle... to walk directly into Doctor McCoy.

Instead of a smart remark, however, McCoy's tone was serious. "When was your last dosage, Spock?"

"Approximately seven point three hours ago," Spock replied immediately, although he felt off the top of his game, as humans put it. He walked around McCoy to the sink, where he washed his hands without a word.

"Did it help at all?" McCoy asked, taking his handheld tricorder from his belt. "You're up for another dose, but you look like shit."

Opting not to state the obvious- which was that he felt miserable- Spock dried his hands robotically and stepped back into the corridor. "As with typical medicine, it had its benefits and detriments."

"In other words, it made you nauseous."

"That would be the correct assumption, doctor."

"Did it help your symptoms?"

"It alleviated some of the discomfort."

"Only some?"

"That is correct."

"But they're back now?"

"Obviously."

They walked into a deserted medical bay together. It was mid-afternoon and there was no one in Sickbay; it meant that the cases of the Rigelian Kassaba fever had cleared up enough for the patients to be discharged. That was good news, except Spock seemed to be feeling worse, not better. There were some cases, like now, where he harboured an intense displeasure in his half-human half-Vulcan physiology.

"Sit down," McCoy said, waving a hand at the nearest biobed. "I want to see your stats."

"Doctor, I find it unnecessary-"

"I wasn't asking you, dammit! This is my Sickbay; sit down!"

Spock, eyebrows raised, sat down.

His stats had gotten worse. His blood pressure had rocketed for reasons that he himself couldn't pinpoint and even as he watched his pulse-rate on the screen, he felt his heart pounding in his ears at a pace that didn't seem to match.

"Your green blood makes everything unpredictable," McCoy muttered, mostly under his breath. "I don't know if I should up your dosage or lower it... That blood pressure's not good."

Spock didn't say anything, partially because he didn't have anything to say and partially because the room was spinning and he felt too warm. Perhaps he should have stayed on the Bridge; with something to distract his mind, he had not noticed his symptoms to this intensity.

"Spock?"

"I'm experiencing vertigo, doctor. If you could administer the Stokaline in the near future, you would have my gratitude."

"Well, that would be a first," McCoy muttered. "Alright, hang on. I'm going to give you a sedative, too, so take it when you get back to your quarters. I shouldn't even discharge you but-"

"I will refrain from contact with the other members of the crew until my symptoms have calmed," Spock said.

"Damn straight, you will." There was the hiss of a hypospray against his arm. "Here's the sedative. It'll knock you out right away, so be prepared to fall asleep wherever you take it."

Spock took the tablet in hand, loosely curling his fingers around it. "Inform Captain Kirk that I-"

"- cannot return to your post today; yeah, I think he already figured that out. The words 'Rigelian' and 'Kassaba fever' might have given it away." McCoy rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Spock, Jim can handle himself without you for a day or two."

Spock couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. The last time that Spock had been dismissed from duty was due to a necessary stop to New Vulcan and Kirk had managed to break five bones in the process of one mission over three hours without Spock there.

"I think," McCoy muttered.

Feeling infinitely more unhealthy than he had upon realising that he was ill, Spock got to his feet and strode from the medical bay without another word.

Because they never can just have a civil conversation. Tense Spock/Bones in all its glory. Don't worry; the tension will subside. And there's Spock/Kirk to come. And probably some awkward Spock/Uhura (but, less on that and more on the awkward boys).

I do not own Star Trek.

Thank you!