Welcome back for another round, readers!

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Chapter Four: Successes, Failures and Several Inexplicable Oddities

"I need a transfusion of AB- blood, a decontamination unit and an oxygen apparatus stat!" Bones ordered as soon as the doors to sickbay slid open, and several nurses who had already prepared an operating table rushed about to do his bidding. Spock lay Jim gently on the bed, noting the pallid tone of the Captain's normally flushed human skin.

"Spock, get that suit off of him while I get clean scrubs," Bones directed, and Spock set about peeling the protective material away from Jim's skin. The cracked helmet came off without the usual hiss of pressurized air, and several large gashes had been torn in the fabric. Spock lifted Jim carefully as he finished removing the damaged suit, leaving him in slightly stained Starfleet Blacks.

"Get out of that suit and get back here fast, I need your help," the Doctor commanded as he returned, gently but firmly moving Spock out of the way, and the Vulcan did as he was ordered quickly and efficiently, returning to the Doctor's side with all possible haste decontaminated and ready to assist.

"Get that shirt off too, he's got some torso injuries," McCoy said as he hooked Jim to the oxygen machine, and Spock examined the Captain's current state and decided removing the shirt over his head conventionally would be ill advised. He gripped the fabric at the center of the lower hem and tore straight up, easily separating the threads and freeing Jim of the hinderance. Bones seemed startled by this method, but made no comment as he examined their Captain.

"Brain injury, some minor swelling; broken ribs, a punctured lung; gash wound in the lower right back, maybe some kidney damage there; and lung damage from the air of Alfa-177. Hold this here, Spock, stem the bleeding while I take care of the head trauma."

Spock took the offered medical fabric and slid it beneath Jim's wounded side, pressing the adhesive to his flesh. A nurse who was hooking up the blood transfusion noticed the surprisingly tender and worried expression on the Vulcan's face.

"He'll be alright, Mr. Spock, his wounds aren't as severe as Doctor McCoy made them sounds. The only thing to worry about are his lungs, but they'll heal," she comforted, and Spock looked at her, quickly removing any sentiment from his eyes or face.

"Thank you, Nurse, I will be certain to transfer that information to all concerned parties," he replied, a veiled expression of gratitude.

Bones returned wielding some rather dangerous looking medical tools and ordered Spock to help him turn Jim over as gently as possible. The highly absorbent fabric was already soaked through, and Bones' expression hardened.

"Nurse, disinfectant."

He removed the pad, revealing a jagged wound where part of the upper mandible had torn through flesh. He injected a hypo of anti-inflammatory and disinfectant, then sprayed the area with an aerosol as well. The skin graft came from a case of pre-grown skin kept for just an occasion, and Bones repaired some of the damage with a type of chemical that encouraged cell growth. Several repositioned ribs, a patched lung, drainage of brain fluids and another blood transfusion later, Bones sat back and wiped his brow with a shaky laugh.

"Well he'll live, that's certain. The son of a bitch certainly keeps us on our toes with his godawful reactions, doesn't he?"

Spock gave no reply, and wondered if Doctor McCoy could sense the utter exhaustion wearing on his body. When the human clapped a hand on Spock's shoulder and smiled lopsidedly, the Vulcan believed he probably could.

"Sulu can handle the conn for a while longer. You should get some rest. God knows we could both use it!"

Spock rose, tugging his black shirt into place stiffly. "My presence is required in the Laboratory, Doctor. I must see to the condition of the eggs."

McCoy sighed. "Alright Spock."

Bones turned to the prone form of his best friend as the Vulcan all but stalked from Sickbay, and rested a hand on Jim's cool forehead.

"You better get your ass back here to take command of this ship before we all fall into insanity," he muttered, and Jim sighed softly in his sleep.

.

The first thing Jim was aware of was a great heaviness over his whole body. Great, he thought, I must be under anesthesia. He forced one eye open and was met with the bland grey ceiling of Sickbay. Yep, definitely under anesthesia.

"Bon-" he tried to call to his friend, but a shocking dry pain seized his throat and he dissolved into a wheezing, coughing mess. A nurse hurried over, offering him a drink of water, and he realized the reason he couldn't breathe was the strange contraption strapped to his face.

"Captain, please sit still, Doctor McCoy-"

Kirk yanked the mask off with a grimace, but the rush of cool sterile oxygen nitrogen compound that rushed into his lungs sent him into another coughing fit.

"Your lungs are damaged, please Captain! Your respirator!" she tried to help him put it back on, and he shook his head.

"B...Bones," he demanded, and she rushed to the wall to call the doctor. Kirk was trying to stand at this point, and the Nurse called an Orderly for help as McCoy came rushing in.

"What the devil-Jim you idiot! Get back in bed," he roared, pushing the Orderly aside and gesturing violently to the bed. Jim scowled but obliged, still coughing sporadically, and Bones retrieved the discarded oxygen filter.

"You need this to breathe right now, Jim, and I'll tell you when you're well enough to go without it! I told you it was a bad idea to go down into that pit of demon spawn, but does anyone listen to Bones? Of course not. Why would they? Just a silly man with a stethoscope, that's me," Bones grumbled and fussed as he returned Jim to a healthy state, and the Captain groaned.

"S...Spock?" He asked, and Bones rolled his eyes.

"Spock's in the lab studying those eggs you found so important. He's been in there practically since we got back. I swear between the two of you I'm going to die of stress!"

The mention of passing time made Jim try to sit up again, and McCoy urged him back down firmly.

"No, Jim!"

"How...how long have we been back on the ship?"

"A few days, three days Jim! You need more recovery time before you go gallivanting around the ship like the madman you are!" Bones scolded, and Jim relaxed obediently.

"You should have come out of the anesthesia a day and a half ago, but your fool immune system just wouldn't have it! You'll be the death of me I swear it James T. Kirk!"

Jim laughed weakly into his respirator.

"I'll try to stay alive long enough to tell humiliating stories at your funeral," he promised, and Bones rolled his eyes as he took out a threatening looking hypo. Jim swallowed nervously.

"Hey! I'm in perfect health...c'mon, Bones, have some mercy!"

McCoy jabbed his best friend harder than necessary in the neck with a potent mixture, and Jim yelped.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he whined, rubbing hard at the point of injection, and Bones smacked his hand away.

"It's for the infection in your lungs, the bacterial growth in your kidneys, the swelling in your brain and to make you get some godforsaken sleep!"

Kirk felt his eyes beginning to droop and frowned.

"I can't...sleep...I've got a...a ship to run..." he mumbled, and slumped somewhat ungracefully back into the bed unconscious. Bones shook his head before ambling over to the comm on the wall, smacking the button for the bridge.

"He's awake," he called without preamble, and the faint echo of 'Mr. Sulu, you have the conn' was his only indication that he had been heard.

Less than two minutes later-exactly one minute, thirty-four seconds and ninety milliseconds, Spock would argue-the Vulcan first officer strode through the doors of Sickbay, tall and stern with concern flickering in dark eyes.

"What is the Captain's status?" he demanded, and Bones jerked his head over at the prone form of their mutual friend. Spock raised a distinctly irritated eyebrow at the doctor.

"I was under the impression that the Captain had regained consciousness," he said pointedly, and Bones held up two innocent hands in surrender.

"You just missed him. He's sleeping naturally now. If you hang around a while, maybe he'll wake up," he suggested innocuously, and Spock watched the doctor wander into his office and close the door with mild frustration with the general human species. When the Doctor had removed himself from the Vulcan's presence, he turned his dark eyes upon the sleeping form of his friend.

"Jim," he murmured, and the Captain sighed softly and rolled over, facing the sound of Spock's voice. His upturned palm rested just inches from Spock's fingertips, and the Vulcan shot a surreptitious glance around the medical bay. No nurses or orderlies seemed present, and he rested the butterfly tips of his fingers against Jim's open palm.

He was flooded with brief sensations from Jim's sleeping consciousness; drowsiness and nervousness, worry, triumph, pride, care for his crew, his love for his people. He was so vibrantly alive, so vitally human, everything Spock did not understand and wished he did, everything he wanted and needed-

Jim shifted in his sleep, fingers twining around Spock's in a thoughtless embrace, and the Vulcan jerked back sharply, the unintended intimacy startling him and, more surprisingly, sending his heart racing. Jim stirred in his sleep, frowning and sighing softly.

Spock brushed himself off, glanced around once more and rested a gentle two fingers against Jim's temple.

"Sleep peacefully, Jim," he murmured, and all traces of distress faded from his Captain's features as he settled into a deep sleep. Spock traveled back to the door, but lingered there, turning back once more to gaze at his Captain.

He needed to meditate greatly.

.

Darkness. Then, surging from it, a creature with a gaping maw as black as the depths of space. A desperate cry, wide hazel human eyes, falling through space, blue eyes gone dark as life fades.

"Spock!"

Jim is reaching, stretching for Spock's hand, falling away into that unreclaimable darkness. He catches that human hand, clinging to the thin bond between them, he will not suffer Jim to die! Then suddenly Jim's body unravels into an infinite golden thread that falls through the Vulcan's fingers, impossible to hold.

"No, no!"

The ground disintegrates beneath him, and he collapses to the cold stone earth with nothing but sand drizzling between his hands. The hollow husk of Alfa-177 looms over the horizon like a demonic eye, and the shrieking of the creatures mingles with the cries of dying Vulcans and a single desperate plea, "Spock! Spock!"

Jim is burning, flesh sizzling, skin flaking away into ash, his voice screaming-

Spock jolted violently awake once again, another night of sleep rudely interrupted by the irrational hallucinations of his subconscious mind. He stumbled to the washroom, the frigid cold of tap water on his flushed skin hardly a comfort in this hour of supreme unrest.

Why was this happening to him? He had been plagued by nightmares before, yes, but never to this degree, never to this extreme. Why now?

A whistle from the comm on the wall alerted him, and he pressed the reply button as he attempted to compose himself.

"Spock here."

"Commander Spock, your presence is requested immediately in the Bio Lab."

"Acknowledged. I will be there shortly. Spock out," he replied quickly, and set about making himself somewhat presentable. He forcibly expelled his weariness and unsettled feelings; they were weak, they could not maintain a hold upon him.

He combed his hair and deemed himself ready to interact with the world once again, forging his way through the hallways to the Bio lab where his presence was required. He stepped past the doors and found himself confronted with an unexpected view; James Kirk cradling an egg.

"Captain, you should be resting," he said immediately, and Kirk grinned, waving his first officer over.

"I'm fine, Spock, Bones doesn't know I'm here," he assured, which was not the same thing as 'Bones said I was free to come here' or 'Bones gave me permission to leave sickbay,' but had a connotation which implied Jim had broken loose behind Doctor McCoy's back. But the fact that he was holding one of the eggs which Spock himself had spent the last few days analyzing made him nervous.

"We are uncertain as to the nature of these eggs, Captain. They are unstable and could hatch at any time," he warned, and Jim nodded.

"Good."

The Vulcan just stared blankly at his Captain. He knew Jim well enough by now to understand that if he made an irrational, illogical and unusually vague statement, he would most likely elaborate upon in within due time. So Spock waited patiently, simply raising an eyebrow at his friend expectantly.

"We're going to incubate the eggs," Jim announced, and the lack of reaction in the rest of the lab would indicate that the crewmembers inhabiting it had already been made aware of Jim's plan, leaving Spock the only one out of the loop.

"Why would we do such a thing?" he inquired, and Jim replaced the egg in the small incubator which had been made for them.

"These eggs are the only substantial evidence we have from the planet. We can't gain any information by dissecting them; so let them grow. I highly doubt there's anything those two baby monsters can whip up that we can't handle," he decided confidently, and one of the eggs split open with a piercing shriek as if directly in spite. Spock shook his head.

"Quite the new pet you've brought home this time, Captain!" Scotty called with a laugh, and Jim ducked with a yelp as the newly hatched alien spawn launched some of its recently shed shell his way. Spock watched the debacle fondly but carefully, waiting for the event of Kirk's need for his assistance.

"Yeh might be in over yer head this time, sir!" Scott catcalled, and although Spock knew logically the taunt was meant for Jim, he could not help but wonder if he was not in a similar emotional state.


Sucks to be emotionally suppressed and weird, huh Spock? We'll try to sort through that tangled shriveled thing you call a heart and straighten it out.

Thanks for reading!