Spock was, in a fit of humanity-induced sickness, starting to feel sorry for himself.

He was miserable, caught in the throes of Stokaline-induced symptoms and Rigelian Kassaba fever. Miserable was not a word he used lightly and he wished that he did not have to use it now, but there was no other logical alternative.

His headache had returned with a vengeance, to the point where he was contemplating that it was a k'an'tran and not just a headache. There was no Terran word for it. 'Migraine' would suffice in to describe the symptoms, but not the intensity.

He clenched his teeth and slowly lowered his head to his desk as another wave of pain crashed upon him. He searched for the spot in his mind that would lessen the pain, that would put his mind into a state less noticeable, but he could not find it through the pain haze.

Spock blinked slowly and purposefully, trying to clear away the creeping darkness from his eyes. He was not in danger of passing out from the pain, but the pain itself was causing a reaction to his vision. It would not be uncommon if he were to lose sight in one or both of his eyes before the k'an'tran passed, if this headache were that.

He was becoming more inclined to believe that it was.

Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, making tremors shake his body in ways that he was not accustomed to. Rarely did he feel conflicting temperatures. The Bridge on the Enterprise was tolerable and his quarters were perfect for his species, but he was now sweating and shivering at the same time.

He raised his head and wiped sweat from his brow, picking up his PADD. His hands were trembling.

It seemed illogical to continue trying to work.

He had returned to his quarters after his consultation with Doctor McCoy. He had followed orders seamlessly; McCoy had said to rest. Spock had discarded the sedative, but he had sat down and picked up his PADD for some light mental work. That was the Vulcan equivalent of rest.

But his efficiency even to comprehend (or with the k'an'tran, correctly see) the words on his display was below par. He set the PADD down quietly. It was illogical to continue work, but sleeping seemed a waste of time. Certainly, he felt unwell enough to, but it was... a certain laziness that he was not and did not wish to be accustomed to.

The metallic buzz of the door made him wince. His ears ached. He rubbed his eyes briefly and sat at attention.

"Come in."

Kirk strode into his quarters, only to stop as though he had walked into an invisible wall. "It's hot in here!" he exclaimed. "And you look like shit."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You have caught me at less than my best."

"I kind of figured that out when Bones was storming around, complaining. Why didn't you tell me you were sick? We can kind of manage without you for a few days."

"It is in my experience that you cannot."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Didn't Bones tell you to sleep?"

"I am resting."

"Resting for you isn't the same as sleeping. That's why he said to sleep." Kirk yawned, flopping back on Spock's bed as though he had just told himself to sleep. "What's your fever?"

"I do not know."

"Really? You don't know something?" Kirk asked, sarcastic humour audible.

"I am not in possession of a medical tricorder, Captain. I cannot make a guess because my ability to assess temperature is skewed."

"Well, yeah, that's what a fever does to you. Have you had your Stoka-whatever lately?"

"I will not need another... dose until 1900 hours," Spock said slowly, curling his fingers into his palms as nausea seized his stomach. He let out a slow breath, trying to maintain the churning pain.

"You alright?" Kirk asked awkwardly.

"Nauseous," Spock allowed.

"... If you're gonna hurl, I'm gonna leave."

"It may be wise," Spock replied, pushing himself to his feet. "Excuse me." He brushed past Kirk to his bathroom.

When he returned, Kirk was, despite his words, still in his room, although he was sitting up now. His eyes locked onto Spock as he walked back into the room.

"Captain-" Spock started, stopping to clear his throat. "It is unwise to expose yourself to this infection."

"Shouldn't you have thought about that before joining us on the Bridge? Besides, I've been around you all day and I had a vaccination when Bones first started noticing the symptoms around the ship. Why didn't you?"

"Typically, Vulcan physiology destroys bacteria before it can progress. I forget to take into consideration that I am half-human and therefore, more susceptible." Unfortunately, he added to himself. He loathed his half human side for situations such as this.

He was about to continue when he stumbled over, assumingly, his own feet and crashed to the floor. The surprise of tripping and falling at all was only overtaken by pain. The headache spiked, vertigo took his senses, and his stomach roiled with the sudden movement. His body was rebelling against him. He wasn't positive of if he could get back to his feet.

"Spock!"

He winced when Kirk's hand gripped his shoulder. Regretting the movement, he held himself very still in an attempt to regulate what was going wrong.

"Spock?"

Spock hesitantly held up a finger, signalling to give him a moment. Kirk's worry was practically tangible in the air around him and it did little to settle Spock's nerves. After a moment, he opened his eyes to find that the spinning sensation had lessened. The nausea, however, had not.

"Captain... Jim..." he started weakly.

"Yeah, can you walk?"

Spock didn't question how Kirk knew what he wanted- logic would dictate that he had probably gone pale when the nausea returned- because he was too focussed on not vomiting. He nodded slightly, a slight inclination of his head as he allowed Kirk to haul him to his feet.

He accepted the help to get back to the bathroom, only managing to collapse to his knees in front of the toilet before he threw up violently. He didn't comment when Kirk made a disgusted noise behind him, although a brief flash of irritation accompanied. He hadn't been the one to tell him to stand there and watch, even if he did appreciate the help that had gotten him to the bathroom again in the first place.

"Are you sure you don't need another dose of Stokaline?" Kirk asked critically when Spock could catch his breath again.

"No. Besides..." he murmured, trying to get to his feet. Kirk immediately gripped his arm to help. "Hyposprays only make the nausea worse."

"It would stop the vomiting, though."

"Vomiting helps the nausea."

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Alright, Mr Logic. You should be resting- in bed- and I'm gonna call Bones to check you out."

Spock looked at Kirk, squinting in the bathroom light. "Do not bother him. The illness must run its course. Doctor McCoy is only so capable."

"You don't think he's capable at all."

Spock leaned against the sink, reaching for the soap. "He is competent enough. Do you not have something to do?"

"Nah. Sulu's got the conn. I came to check on you."

"Flattering," Spock muttered, drying his hands and turning around.

"You okay now?" Kirk asked, his hand extended as though to help. He looked as though he didn't know if Spock would accept the help or perhaps bite his hand.

Spock straightened as much as he could. "I think... I believe I am functioning enough to walk for the moment. I cannot expect much enthusiasm for later, though."

"Why's that?"

"Because I am starting to experience a... migraine," he filled in pathetically. The word did not cover the epitome of k'an'tran even seventy percent.

"Oh." Kirk stood by, watching awkwardly as Spock stumbled towards his bed. "Are you sure that you don't want me to-"

"No," Spock interrupted. "I will call for the doctor if I need him. I do, however, request that you return to the Bridge. Your worry is unnecessary."

"Fine." Kirk sighed. "Call me if you need anything. I know you wouldn't call Bones if your life depended on it."

"Illogical," Spock replied, wincing as he sat down.

"Yeah, well, nobody's perfect."

Spock raised an eyebrow. Pain radiated through his head with the motion and he was infinitely grateful when the Captain turned and walked out.

Darkness blossomed across the left side of his vision, smudging out anything that Spock could have wanted to look at. He bit the inside of his cheek and pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.

He was approximately two point three hours into the k'an'tran- the pain phase. Aura lasted through the pain and occasionally into the postdrome stage. Those weren't the correct terms, but they were the human equivalent of the Vulcan terms of k'an'tran stages, even if they didn't match up.

He drew his legs up, pressing his face into his pillow as he curled up against the pain. He hadn't made a noise, refused to give pain the acknowledgement even if it wasn't a sentient being. He could handle it.

It was only a logical response to assume that he could.

"Spock!"

The reaction to the shout outside his door was neither logical or pleasant; he promptly rolled over and threw up on the floor.

"- ugh, that's disgusting," Kirk said.

"Great deduction, Captain Obvious," another voice muttered. It took Spock a minute to realise that it was Doctor McCoy. "Spock?"

Hyperaware was Spock of the footsteps approaching the bed, but he couldn't form words. His mind was in a frenzied disarray. He couldn't form words, let alone speak.

"Spock?" McCoy asked again.

He was much too close and infinitely too loud. Spock was sorely tempted to say, if he were human, of course, 'shut up'. If he were human. As it were, he simply curled up tighter and gripped the pillow, attempting to channel his pain into other actions.

There was a pause and when McCoy spoke again, his voice was quieter. "What's going on, Spock?"

Spock licked his lips. "I... am experiencing a... Vulcan migraine," he said thinly, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Vulcans have their own migraines?" Bones muttered. "Well, shit, man."

Spock tried in vain not to listen to the rustling of fabric, the whir of a tricorder. Footsteps around his room. Everything hurt his head, his soul, his entire being.

"Why don't you go get a towel or something, Jim?" Bones said, sounding distant.

"I'm not cleaning up his puke if that's what you're getting at," Kirk retorted.

"Oh, for God's sake, Jim, grow up."

"You're the doctor, not me. I'll call cleaning."

"The last thing we need is more people around Spock when he's this sick!"

Spock clenched his teeth tightly, a conscious reaction against pain controlled by his acquaintances in the room. Had he not just given voice to the fact that he had a migraine?

"Spock. Sorry. Jim, hallway."

"What? What's wrong?"

"Hallway."

Spock sighed imperceptibly as they walked out. He didn't know when it had started, but he was shivering, entire body wracked with small tremors. He still felt like he was going to throw up, he felt like he was going to dip into unconsciousness without any preemptive decision. It was... a strange experience, Spock reckoned, but nothing that he wanted to experience again.

The door slid open. Spock forced his eyes open, swallowing back nausea as the brightness of the room strung his eyes and made his head throb. Kirk stared back at him, looking uncomfortable.

"Bones put me on bedside watch," he said. "I'm supposed to... erm, watch you, I guess. While he's doing some shit with his hypos..." Kirk rubbed the back of his head before striding across the room. Spock watched with little interest as the Captain vanished behind the door of the bathroom and then reappeared a few seconds later. "Look, I don't know what to do for Vulcan migraines, so I'm just going to sit over there and be quiet, but whenever I get tension headaches, heat usually helps. I figure it might..." he trailed off, holding up a dripping washcloth. "You could at least put it over your eyes."

Spock wouldn't dare to move if he thought he could without ill effects. He just inclined his head ever-so-slightly and closed his eyes again. "Affirmative..."

There was a slight hesitation before the warmth of the cloth was placed over his eyes. He had to force himself not to wince from the pressure at first, but, in all of his stupid decisions, Captain Kirk had made a paramount choice here. The heat brought relief that he hadn't expected, allowing his mind and body to relax more than it had been.

"Lights..." Spock murmured.

"Huh? Oh- Lights, off."

Darkness swallowed the room and Spock sighed heavily, clutching the blanket closer. Gratitude was a human emotion, but Spock would have to make sure to express his thanks to Captain Kirk for his priceless, beneficial advice.

Well, this chapter took its sweet time in getting inspired, but I managed to get Chapter Three written. Hopefully, this makes up for the wait between the chapters. :) Anyway, yep. Vulcan migraines. Because Vulcans wouldn't get normal migraines. Just makes it more interesting, in my opinion.

Your reviews are always appreciated. Thank you!