Chapter 5

U.S.S. Enterprise, Stardate 2261.51, 1233 hours. He finished his meal and inserted the tray in the recycling slot alongside Dr. M'Benga before following him back to the medical bay. Ordinarily he would have been content to take his lunch in his quarters but the deviation in routine had been brought about by an overhaul of his recuperative schedule. His cognitive therapy sessions now took place squarely in the middle of the ship's lunch hour and more often than not Spock found himself escorted to the Mess by any number of doctors or nurses on staff before returning to sickbay for more testing.

If Dr. McCoy believed Spock to be oblivious to this subterfuge than he was mistaken. He was well aware that he was still under the minimum healthy weight requirements for active duty and now the CMO had found a legitimate way to make good on his threat to force feed him. The Commander was not amused; still, Spock strove not to let his irritation show and he gradually noticed his emotionalism subsiding.

At least one aspect of his life was within his control again.

As they walked back to sickbay Dr. M'Benga kept up a steady stream of conversation requiring only the occasional nod or two from him; it was at that moment that he turned away and almost ran headlong into Lieutenant Uhura. She looked just as he remembered her 3.769 years prior: long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, the ends grazing her shoulders in time with her walk, her chin buried in a PADD. The cadet reds had been swapped for the standard issue uniform but the exposed skin of her arms and legs still glowed against the rich tones of the fabric.

Their last conversation—the last one he remembered—had taken place the afternoon prior to his memory wipe.

"Your pronunciation has improved, Cadet. There are very few humans of my experience who can properly manipulate their tongue to elicit the Andorian formal and informal verbs, much less use them correctly. You will undoubtedly pass your final examination with high marks." Illogically he hoped she could hear the pride resonating in his tone.

Cadet Uhura flopped down in her chair and smiled tiredly as he handed her study PADD back across the desk. Although Spock had no more work for her until after the final examinations were complete his TA found his office a convenient place to study…and he found he rather looked forward to her joining him there, especially when her face lit up each time she attained a new goal.

"You said my pronunciation has improved; what that really means is that it's not perfect."

Spock quirked his head at the curious statement. There would be many cadets (and a few professors) who would be quite pleased with his assessment. "That would be correct. Only an Andorian native would be able to speak the language perfectly, and that does not account for the difference in regional dialects, nor for the portion of the population that is mute, nor…"

"But Commander," she interrupted him with a wicked smile and a gleam in her eye as she handed the PADD back, "I want to be able to speak it perfectly."

He had always admired her quest for perfection. She had been the best TA for him precisely for that reason. He and Cadet Uhura held themselves and those around them to the highest possible standards; those that failed to utilize their full potential did not last long in his classroom, nor did they succeed in maintaining her friendship for any sizable duration.

Now her eyes widened by .16 centimeters at the sight of him before side-stepping the pair with a curt nod and a parting "Commander" as she continued on her way.

Spock stared after her until she rounded the bend then followed Dr. M'Benga back to sickbay. He could not understand why she had moved along so quickly with so little conversation when she had once informed him that he was indeed a friend. The Lieutenant's puzzling behavior went against everything he thought he knew about human behavior and friendship in particular.

It was not until they re-entered sickbay that he recalled the spark was missing from her eyes.

Nyota was startled by his sudden appearance and sucked in a breath to keep her composure. He looked far healthier than he had the last time she saw him—his color was better and he was beginning to fill out his clothes more—and though his face belayed calm his eyes still spoke of immense pain. She couldn't bear to see him hurting.

"Commander."

It was all she could do to choke out the word and hurry along; only when she was out of sight did she stop and press herself flat against the wall to shut her eyes. A single, salty tear slid down her cheek.

U.S.S. Enterprise, Stardate 2261.53, 1005 hours. The botany lab doors opened and Commander Spock strode in, pausing just inside the doorway to take a look around. Chekov told him he'd been out of his quarters but few others had seen him since and the sight of him in civilian clothing standing at attention in his lab was a bit of a shock.

"Commander!" Breaking away from his work, Hikaru wiped his dirty hands down the front of his apron as he quickly moved to the front of the room. "I heard you were out and about! It's good to see you!"

His friend gave him a curt nod. "The Doctor has entreated me to 'get out more' and I am endeavoring to do as he ordered."

Sulu smiled; the two of them were still at it. "Well I'm glad you decided to pop in here!" He cast about for something more to say when an alert at the back of the lab sounded. "Excuse me." He weaved his way through the tables of plants and felt Spock following close behind. Turning off a few valves Sulu examined the row of seedlings and recorded his results while his friend remained conspicuously quiet, eying an object in the corner of the room. It was some moments more before he turned to see what had arrested the Commander's attention and when he did Sulu smiled.

"Cadet, is that a…?"

"A Cladmian fire plant? Sure is. Picked her up a few months ago from a vendor on Starbase IV. I gotta say it's been pretty interesting studying one up close, though I doubt Security would agree. Turns out the seller got the plant date wrong and it erupted a full week ahead of schedule. Everyone wanted to throw it out the airlock for all the trouble it caused."

His 'but you wouldn't let them' hung unspoken in the air.

Hikaru gazed at the plant, recalling the initial, startling burst as it began it's ascent to the next stage of growth. He'd managed to summon Spock, who'd expressed an interest in witnessing the event when they first brought the plant aboard, amidst the blaring klaxons and rush of personnel scrambling for cover. Not expecting the phoenix stage until the following week none of their safety protocols were yet in place: several experiments were ruined and Security was on the verge of evacuating the entire deck as a precaution, not believing them when they said it wouldn't burn out of control. They were incredibly lucky no one got hurt.

He and Spock had been the only ones unfazed by the entire dangerous proceedings.

"Fascinating." It brought a smile to Sulu's lips to see that some things hadn't changed. "If it is permissible I would like to be present at the next phoenix stage." He frowned while Spock continued to examine the plant.

"Oh, and Commander? It's Lieutenant Sulu now. I know it's kind of sudden but a lot of us got rapid field promotions after…"

Mercifully Sulu remembered himself in time and stopped short. He hadn't been briefed on how much his friend did or didn't know about Vulcan's end; he'd only been told that he was awake and missing the last four years of his life. That would put Spock's memories firmly before the Narada and he certainly didn't want to be the one to tell him that his home world was gone.

Dr. McCoy was proving to be a rather relentless physician, interrupting him in his quarters at all hours of the day in addition to the time spent haranguing him whenever he was in sickbay. In an effort to evade him while satisfying his own curiosity Spock decided to venture over to the botany lab and had come upon Lieutenant Sulu in his element.

His attention was called away from the Cladmian fire plant when the other man started conversing again. "Oh, and Commander? It's Lieutenant Sulu now. I know it's kind of sudden but a lot of us got rapid field promotions after…"

He had not addressed him by his proper rank? Spock searched his memory and found he had indeed wrongly referred to Mr. Sulu as Cadet. It was highly unusual for him to make such a slip and he could not recall another instance where such a thing had occurred. Why was this happening to him now? Was this related to his recent injury, and had there been other such instances in the past 17.59 days that no one had made him aware of?

Spock knew he would have to inquire about it with the Doctor when he went in on Monday, assuminghe could avoid the man for that long.

"It would appear that I misspoke, Lieutenant; and while I appreciate your discretion it is unnecessary. The Captain has informed me of the destruction of Vulcan, along with other particulars from that time." The words came out uniformly even as his heart seized upon discussing the event for the first time out loud.

"Oh."

Sulu waited to see if his friend wanted to talk about it but he remained tight-lipped. He walked back down the rows tending to his plants with Spock a good meter or so behind. The more he thought about it the more Hikaru realized what a long stretch of time four years was to lose. It didn't seem so long ago when you talked about it in the abstract but when you went from being a cadet to doing all the crazy things he'd done since joining the Enterprise it felt like a whole other lifetime ago. If the situation were reversed Sulu doubted he'd be holding it together nearly as well as the Commander.

The pair soon began working in tandem: watering plants, monitoring temperature changes, transplanting seedlings and recording results. The normalcy of it all lulled Hikaru into making another faux pas. "So, how's Uhura?"

Spock stopped abruptly and cocked his head to the side. "I do not understand the nature of the question. If you wish to ascertain the well being of Cadet…" he stopped himself short and Hikaru almost swore he saw him grimace "…of Lieutenant Uhura, than I suggest you ask her yourself." He then did an about face and walked straight out of the lab.

Sulu cuffed the back of his own head for forgetting that the Commander hadn't yet been caught up on all the particulars.

The mere mention of Uhura made him go rigid. In spite of all his meditation Spock still could not put his feelings surrounding her and their encounter two days ago in order. His observations of human behavior led him to believe that she was upset with him; he attempted to research the matter by combing through the ship's records only to find no evidence of any altercation between them ever noted…indeed, if the logs were to be believed there had been very little interaction between them at all in the intervening years. The more Spock tried to reconcile his thoughts on the matter with what little data he had the more the unidentifiable emotion smoldered beneath the surface.

He also found it curious that Lieutenant Sulu thought to inquire about her through him.

"I do not understand the nature of the question. If you wish to ascertain the well being of Cadet…" Spock fought to keep the grimace off his face as he made yet another mistake within the last 22.43 minutes, "…of Lieutenant Uhura, than I suggest you ask her yourself."

Enough was enough; this simply would not do. There was too much information about his condition being withheld from him. His need for answers overrode his desire to avoid sickbay and Spock abruptly quit the room to find the CMO.

U.S.S. Enterprise, Stardate 2261.53, 1039 hours.Well well, he hadn't expected to see Spock in here today. Then again McCoy hadn't expected to be called in to consult on a 2nd degree burn that a foolish ensign in engineering failed to report. Now the area was infected and while ordinarily the CMO wouldn't need to be bothered by something so easily treatable the ensign's Capellan physiology managed to compound the problem significantly enough to require his input.

Still, seeing the Commander come in voluntarily was slightly alarming. Len gave the Vulcan the once over out of the corner of his eye just to be sure he wasn't bleedin' anywhere but satisfied that that wasn't the case he turned his attention back to M'Benga. Geoff finished outlining his treatment plan while Spock stood respectfully off to the side and waited his turn.

"Ok, let's get that herbal compress on her leg and see if the swelling goes down within the next half hour. If not we may have to resort to more barbaric methods…like leeches." McCoy glared at the girl as she paled. "That's right, I said leeches." He was joking of course but she didn't need to know that—she probably didn't even know what leeches were, just the idea of 'em was barbaric enough. The ensign's face was drawn and she managed to look sufficiently cowed so he knew he got his point home.

See if she'd ever do a damn foolish thing like this ever again.

When he was through he strode over to Spock but was cut off before he could open his mouth. "Dr. McCoy, I would like to have a few words with you—in private." If he didn't know better he'd say the hobgoblin was upset. Len lead him over to his office and made it clear to Ofunzi that they weren't to be disturbed.

He took a seat behind the desk and folded his hands on the surface waiting to see what this visit was about.

"I am here to request access to all of my cognitive test results, effective immediately."

That demand took Len by surprise, especially because it was one he wasn't inclined to give in to, no matter the regs. Spock had been getting along perfectly well without knowing the full extent of his memory problems, and in his expert opinion it would be better for him to stay that way. He'd be happier…well, as happy as the elf ever got at any rate. "Why?"

"Clarify."

Now why couldn't the damn eels fix that annoying tic and leave the rest well enough alone? "Why do you want your cognitive test results, Commander?"

"I would like the materials because I have detected two errors that I have made in my speech today. The first oversight was pointed out to me by Lieutenant Sulu. The second followed approximately 22.43 minutes later. At the time I made each statement I believed myself to be correct. I have never misspoken in this manner before and I believe this to be a direct result of my experiences on Anguillida. My desire is to have these facts either confirmed or denied by your reports."

The unspoken emphasis made it clear to McCoy that there was no gettin' around this. Even if he pulled rank there was no reason why he should outright refuse Spock except that he wanted to spare his friend more pain. "Alright," he agreed quietly, reaching in a side drawer for an empty PADD. He quickly transferred all the data before on file before placing it in Spock's outstretched hand.

His eyes darted back and forth as he read through page after page. Len wasn't Nyota—he couldn't parse out expressions on Spock's unreadable Vulcan face like she could—but if the increasing tension in the air was any indication than his mood wasn't good, especially after he read the prognosis.

When he was through Spock stood up and gave Len a nod before walking straight out of sickbay without a backward glance.

His quarters were the only safe place right now: for him and for everyone else on board. "Computer, lock door and engage soundproofing, authorization code Spock Alpha 079."

"Acknowledged."

When he was certain he was alone Spock gave a mighty shout that rattled the walls, hurling the PADD across the room where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

U.S.S. Enterprise, Stardate 2261.55, 0935 hours. "Thank you all. Dismissed." The bridge crew got up and filed out of the ready room prepared to face another day. "Mr. Scott, a word, if you please?"

"Just one, Cap'n?" the engineer teased. "That seems highly unlikely comin' from you, Sir."

Jim grinned and moved over to where he stood near the door. "I know you've been Acting First Officer ever since everything happened with Spock but I have to make a formal entry into the logs for HQ soon and I wanted to let you know that I'll be extending your acting status even after Spock's back on full-duty." The Scotsman's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "It's only temporary, Scotty, and only if the worst should happen. Spock remembers protocol but he doesn't remember the crew and I can't just thrust him into leadership like that. It wouldn't be fair to anyone and it's not what's best for the Enterprise. This is only until he gets back on his feet."

"Aye, that's what worries me," Monty replied with a grimace. "It's not just that I dinnae want the job but Commander Spock is already on his feet. Who knows when the rest of 'im will catch up? I'll be yer second fer years!" The engineer looked horrified at the prospect. If Jim looked at his own track record without the rose-colored glasses on he'd know why.

"I can assure you, Mr. Scott, that I will endeavor to 'catch up' as swiftly as possible. Captain, may I have a few words with you?"

"Sure."

Scotty parted company with his cheeks as red as beets and beat a hasty retreat to the safety of his engines. Jim headed down the hall toward the bridge and motioned for Spock to follow.

"Captain, if I may…"

"It's Jim, Spock. Call me Jim."

He considered him quizzically. "As my superior officer I cannot break protocol and refer to you in any way other than your official status."

Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you can't," he said under his breath. Than he cursed, recalling Vulcan hearing. "Was there something I could do for you, Commander?"

"Indeed. As you are well aware, Doctor McCoy has put me on six weeks inactive duty status in order to allow me to re-acclimate myself to the ship; however, I find that amount of time to be too excessive. I am in optimal health and am fully capable of resuming my former duties."

Spock's discussion with the Doctor that morning had not gone as he would have liked. The man could not be made to see reason. His argument was sound and there was no logical reason why he should be kept on the inactive duty roster for a further 23.89 days.

It was almost as if Dr. McCoy were being purposely contrary with him just because he could. He was making it a mission to torment Spock and the Commander was beginning to see that the Doctor would be his most challenging adversary on the ship.

No matter then. He would simply follow protocol and speak with someone in a position of authority over Dr. McCoy…and that person was Captain James T. Kirk.

Spock waited patiently for the Captain outside the ready room until the morning meeting adjourned. Lt. Uhura was one of the first to leave and made her way quickly around him to her station; but today he paid her little heed as he had his own agenda to focus on. When the Captain did not exit Spock prepared to seek him out but stopped when he heard muted voices on the other side of the partition.

"It's only temporary, Scotty, and only if the worst should happen. Spock remembers protocol," Clearly, he thought with an eyebrow lift, "but he doesn't remember the crew and I can't just thrust him into leadership like that. It wouldn't be fair to anyone and it's not what's best for the Enterprise. This is only until he gets back on his feet."

"Aye, that's what worries me," a heavily accented voice replied. "It's not just that I dinnae want the job but Commander Spock is already on his feet. Who knows when the rest of 'im will catch up? I'll be yer second fer years!"

He was disheartened at the pronouncement as he believed, however falsely, in the 4.902% chance that he might be cured of his amnesia; yet as the Captain and Chief Engineer exited the room he tried not to let his disappointment show.

"I can assure you, Mr. Scott, that I will endeavor to 'catch up' as swiftly as possible." The engineer turned bright red and murmured under his breath as he fled. Spock turned his attention to the other man. "Captain, might I have a word?"

Kirk stopped in the middle of the hall. He didn't want to go over Bones' head, especially when he thought of all the revenge the man could dish out under the guise of 'medical necessity', but his Science Officer could also not be easily dismissed. "I trust you've made your request to Dr. McCoy?"

"Affirmative."

"And he didn't go for it?" Spock continued to stare at him with a puzzled expression. "I mean he didn't see your point of view when you mentioned this idea to him?"

"That would be correct, Captain. As Chief Medical Officer he has complete autonomy over this matter save for one other person."

Jim grinned at the thought. "Let me guess, that person's me?"

"Affirmative."

Well don't I have all the perks? "Alright, tell you what I'll do. I'll try and talk to Bones and see if I can get him to ease up on the restrictions, ok? But in the meantime why don't you just rest up, take it easy, and show him you're on your best behavior. I can't make any promises but it might help tip the scales in your favor."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he deciphered his standard before nodding once in agreement. "I will endeavor to follow your advice."

"Good. You do that." He clasped the Commander hard on the back then watched him turn and walk away before setting foot on the bridge. Jim was already dreading the rest of the day and he hadn't even had his third cup of coffee yet.

U.S.S. Enterprise, Stardate 2261.55, 2251 hours. He barely finished pressing the buzzer when the door slid open. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up," Bones muttered as he turned back inside. Jim slipped in and settled down at the table while his buddy fished in a cabinet for a bottle and some glasses. He held one aloft. "You want one?"

"You have to ask?"

The bourbon was poured in silence and each took a long, contemplative sip, Jim staring idly over the rim at Bones' boots kicked off in a corner.

"So are we gonna talk about everyone's favorite Science Officer or aren't we?"

He rolled his eyes. Couldn't he let him finish a drink first? Apparently not. "He wants to…"

"No," the doctor cut him off abruptly. "I knew he was goin' to go over my head but the answer's still no. I wasn't bein' generous when I ordered him off for six weeks. He needs that time to adjust, Jim, and if Saturday is any indication than he might need even more time than that."

Christ. He wiped his tired eyes before setting his glass aside. "What happened Saturday?"

"Spock knows he's having recurring memory problems." Jim winced. "He confronted me and I had to tell him. He'd been in the botany lab talking to Sulu when he figured it out and came to me for confirmation. I had personal reasons but no medical ones so I had to tell him."

"How'd he take the news?"

Bones scowled. "How'd he take it? Like a Vulcan, that's how; but if my hunch is right I doubt I'll see my PADD back in one piece anytime soon."

Jim sighed and sank lower into his chair. This was turning into a bigger g-ddamn mess than he could've ever predicted. Why the hell did those bastards have to go mucking about in his friend's brain? Still, he promised Spock he'd at least try and make a decent argument on his behalf. "Maybe if you let him come back to work…"

"Have you been listenin' to anythin' I've been sayin'? I know I'm not a psychologist but I'm tellin' you he's not fit to handle the stress of command!"

"What about…"

McCoy fixed him with a laser-like glare. "He's. Not. Ready."

Kirk threw up his hands. "Geez, alright, I get it, but could you at least hear me out?" Bones didn't say a word but he didn't look like he was going to stop him either. "I understand but I think between the three of us we can reach some sort of compromise. It's clear to me that Spock thinks he has too much time on his hands. Can we at least agree on that?" Len shot him a nod. "Ok. What if, starting Wednesday, you let him come back on half shifts? Just in the science lab and not on the bridge, but it'll be enough so Spock feels like he's doing something productive. Would that be ok?" Another nod. "And if that works out well after a week maybe we can see about increasing his time on-shift from there. This way you get your mandatory down-time and Spock gets to come back to work."

"I still have some concessions I want him to make."

Jim fought the urge to groan. Was Bones ever in a snit. He was really going to reap it next time he found himself in sickbay. "Ok…?"

"He's still three kilos underweight AND he hardly ever leaves his quarters. I know he needs to meditate but if Spock wants to start working full-time again he's going to need to interact with the crew for more than five minutes at a stretch and not retreat to his room at the first sign of trouble. You need to get him to promise to take three square meals a day in the Mess AND spend at least 2 hours engaged in activities outside his quarters."

Negotiating with a legion of Tellarites was easier than this. "What do you want him to do for 2 hours if you won't let him work? Twiddle his thumbs?"

"I don't know…take up racket ball or learn basket weaving or just something so he's not always sittin' there chantin' over his firepot!" He pointed a finger at him. "I'm not being unreasonable here so don't you go makin' me feel like I am either. It's as much for the crew's sake as it is for Spock's. They need to see him goin' about the ship like he used to if they're ever going to trust him once he's in a position to command."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, I know, you're right; I'm just not sure I'll be able to get him to agree."

The Doctor leaned back in his seat and stretched out, bringing the bourbon up to his lips while looking very pleased with himself. "Well if he wants to go back on active duty as much as he says he does than he's goin' to have to, now isn't he?"

Bones could be a real sadistic son-of-a-gun sometimes.