Whoa, my muse is cooperating for once! Hope you guys enjoy another chapter so soon! I'll try to keep them coming, keep reading and keep reviewing! I love you all!

Kirk, Spock, Bones etc. are not my babies, only Ran'Chaah came from me.

Enjoy!


Chapter Twelve: The Alien Among Us

"You are genius Ran'Chaah!" Chekov gushed over his control panel as the alien being inhabiting Spock instructed the young Russian how to go about predicting an exotic matter trail. The silky haired telepath smiled, touching Chekov's bare forearm gently.

"Yo-ou are the g-genius for f-following such c-conv-vol-"

"Convoluted?" Sulu offered, and Ran'Chaah nodded gratefully, missing the way the helmsman's eyes flickered to the hand resting on Chekov's arm.

"Y-Yes, convoluted instr-ructions."

Chekov blushed proudly, and the telepath bid him goodbye as he was called to the science station, occupied by ensign Roach in Spock's absence.

"I'm getting some readings I don't understand," she said, and he rested a hand on the back of her chair as he leaned in to examine the monitor.

"These wa-avelengths are in-indicative of t-the...pres-sence of exotic matter...that has b-been incorrectly u-utilized," he explained, and she frowned.

"Incorrectly utilized? How so?"

"The-ey are ri-iding patterns of so-olar wind...the ship ha-as no telepa-ath at the helm. She-e is...lost." He said this with a tone of crippling sadness, and Ensign Roach looked at him in surprise. The vast range of his emotions was unsettling on Spock's normally stoic face, but the crew was getting used to it by the hour.

"Ran'Chaah?" another voice beckoned, and he turned at the familiar but somewhat unpleasant call. McCoy stood in the door to the Turbolift, and gestured him over.

"Time for another screening. We don't know what you being in there is doing to Spock's body, so we want to check you as regularly as possible" he lectured, and Ran'Chaah rewarded him with a soft smile.

"I d-do not wish to enda-anger your Mr. Spock," he acknowledged, and the doctor's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean my Mr. Spock?" he snapped, and Ran'Chaah patted the man's blue clad shoulder with a brighter smile.

"He is very...dear to yo-ou," he said as if it were obvious, and the blood rushed to the doctor's face so fast the onlookers were surprised he didn't emanate steam from his ears.

"What the hell is that supposed to-he is not! I can't stand that pointy eared hobgoblin! He's stuck up and cold and I can't be in the same room as him for more than a minute before I want to tear those fool bangs off his head! What are you laughing at?" He snarled at the bridge crew, most of whom were hiding smiles or chuckling, and especially at Sulu who wasn't even trying to hide his laughter. Bones grabbed the front of the alien's shirt and tugged him onto the turbolift with furious grumblings galore.

"Doctor-" Ran'Chaah broke off sharply, cocking his head curiously to the side. "You people ha-ave many...names," he observed, and Bones raised his eyebrows.

"Is that so, Mr. Name-of-his-people?"

"Ye-es. You are...Bones, but a-also McCo-oy, and Doctor, and thi-is mind calls you some ra-ather in-interesting names in the Vu-ulcan language."

"Like what?" the human growled, and Ran'Chaah gave an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders, nearly smacking the doctor with one wayward arm. He was still getting accustomed to the way muscles felt.

"Many words...which I a-am still trying to u-understand. His mi-ind is a fa-ascinating place."

"Yeah, I'm sure it is," Bones grumbled, "as complicated and hospitable as the inside of a warp core."

"The Ca-aptain is the same," Ran'Chaah continued, oblivious to the Doctor's apathy towards the subject, "he is J-Jim, and Sir...Kirk, Captain. S-Spock has spe-ecial names for him i-in his own language as w-well."

Bones slowed the lift, hazel eyes observing the alien curiously.

"Now that's private business between Spock and Jim, Ran'Chaah. Don't go rooting around through his mind and spewing out everything you find there," he chided, and Ran'Chaah absorbed this information and nodded slowly, agreeing to more terms of engagement.

"My...apologies. I-I am s-still unacc-accustomed to this culture. I o-only wish...I co-ould have see-een his planet."

Bones looked down and sighed. "Well I for one am sick and tired of losing planets. That's why you're here; so let's get you checked out so we can hunt those sons of bitches down and keep them from killing any more innocent people."

Jim settled himself in front of the comm console, dressed in his starfleet best, hair combed and medals pinned in place. The screen before him blinked to life, and he smiled as a young face also dressed in sunday best stared back at him.

"Hi Peter," he said to the young child, and the red haired boy tried to hide his freckled face in the shirt of his caretaker Winona. She urged him back to the screen, and the boy (he couldn't have been more than 3) scuffed his foot and said shyly, "Hello Uncle Jim."

Kirk smiled. The boy would likely remember none of his horrific ordeal as he grew older, and the Kirk line would continue through him. Maybe he hadn't failed as utterly as he thought.

"How are you feeling Peter? Do you like living with Grandma?" He asked, and Peter nodded, taking a small fistfull of Jim's mother's skirt.

"Have you done anything fun?"

"When are Mommy and Daddy coming back?" he asked suddenly, and Jim saw Winona's hands tighten convulsively in the background. He smiled sadly, resettling himself as he could not act upon the urge to hold the child.

"Not for a long time, Peter. Not until you're a grownup. Grandma is going to take care of you until you're all grown up."

"Until I'm big and strong like you and daddy?" he asked, and Jim nodded.

"Yeah. It might get lonely but I want you to be very nice to grandma always okay?"

Peter's bottom lip trembled and he hid his face in Winona's skirt again, unable to comprehend and face the endless years ahead of him without his parents.

"Let's go take a nap, eh Petey?" she suggested, and the screen showed nothing but the inside of Kirk's childhood kitchen as Winona carried Peter up to his bedroom. He would grow up in the same house, the same room that Sam and Jim played in, growing up in the shadows of Winona's various male partners. She was single now, but Jim worried about her mental health sometimes. Peter was a blessing and a curse; a blessing in that she had someone on whom to dote and direct her motherly affection to, but the way she had come by him was horrible.

Winona's drawn face appeared in the screen as she sat down, and Jim sighed.

"How is he?"

"He doesn't sleep much," she admitted, "wakes up screaming most nights. But they're growing fewer and farther between. He's not making friends at school. I'm worried he's going to be a delinquent like you were," she laughed slightly and he chuckled. They knew that time had passed and it was acceptable to joke about, because he had come so far and she was proud of him even though she dreaded meeting a uniformed angel of death at the door a third time.

"Well if he takes after his father he'll do great things," he said softly, and she nodded, wiping away a stray tear.

"He'll do great things no matter which Kirk he takes after," she retorted, and Jim heard a knock on the door in the background. "I've got company here, Jim, I've got to go. It was nice to hear from you-call once in a while, won't you?" she chastised, and he nodded with a chagrined laugh and cancelled the call. He sat back in the chair, letting the quiet ring in his ears. He couldn't stand immobility for long and pushed himself out of the chair, his month old wound twinging ever so slightly, just enough to remind him it was there and that he was mortal.

He dressed down, hanging his dress uniform in the closet and collapsing on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He hadn't let himself slow down enough to think about Sam recently, but as he lay there off duty with nothing else to occupy his mind he let his eyes fall closed.

It's not your fault Jim, he heard one inner voice say, soothing and somewhat southern in tone. You did what you could and it just wasn't enough. It was those damned superiors who didn't believe you. They're the ones to blame.

But you could have done more, another voice replied skeptically, you could have ignored those bastards and rushed there as soon as Spock came to you with his dreams.

On what grounds? A third retorted logically, you had no real evidence. You are not at fault Jim.

We're trying to fix the situation now, so get your head out of your ass and forgive yourself! The Bones-esque voice snapped, and the Spockian voice agreed, holding onto the past will cause you nothing but emotional harm.

Jim sat up in frustration, throwing his pillow across the room. He knew it wasn't his fault, not really, but the gnawing guilt remained nonetheless. The door slid open as the pillow landed near it, and a figure glanced down at it in surprise.

"Is...thi-is a bad time, Ca-aptain?"

Jim sighed, running a hand over his face. "No, of course not. Come in, Ran'Chaah."

The tall being stepped inside the room, retrieving the pillow Kirk had thrown against the wall and returning it to the head of the Captain's bed, patting it as if to make sure it was happily settled there. He glanced with dark eyes at the place on the edge of the bed beside Kirk, and the Captain gestured to it hospitably.

"Is this a status report?" he asked, and Ran'Chaah settled beside him, not speaking for a moment before he nodded.

"Captain...you a-are...tro-oubled," he stated, and Jim frowned.

"That's not what we were talking about," he pointed out, and Ran'Chaah brushed a strand of dark hair neatly behind one pointed ear. Jim let his gaze trace the elegant curve of the exotic body part before quickly jerking his eyes away when he realized Ran'Chaah was staring at him.

"But...it i-is true," he replied, and Jim ran an unsettled hand through his hair.

"I was just...thinking about Sam," he admitted. "Sam is my-"

"Your brother. I...a-am sorry for your gre-eat loss, Jim," Ran'Chaah spoke softly, and rested the back of Spock's hand lightly against Jim's fingers. A tingling sensation ran up the human's arm and he shot a look at the Ran'Chaah inside the Vulcan surreptitiously.

"Thank you. I guess you would know about great loss. You and Spock have that in common."

"Yes. The...loss o-of a planet i-is mu-uch like the loss...of a bro-other, magnified tenf-fold," Ran'Chaah shared softly, "bu-ut the lo-oss of a Lover...is much mo-ore painful still."

Jim turned his head fully to look at the alien in surprise. "Did you lose one? When your planet was destroyed?"

Ran'Chaah turned Spock's hand over, mapping the expanse of skin quietly, presumably contemplating Jim's question.

"I think...tha-at is a question for ano-other day. I a-am needed in the sci-ience labs," he said finally, and rose without another word. Jim rose as well, pulling his command gold shirt from the chair and tugging it over his head.

"Actually, I have something in Biolab 2 I'd like you to take a look at."

The two figures exited the Captain's Quarters and turned in synch down the hallway, musculatures finding a matching stride very natural.

"Is it...a su-urprise?" Ran'Chaah asked, eyes glowing, and Jim gave a slight laugh.

"Well, more or less."

They entered the turbolift and found it already occupied, and the atmosphere immediately chilled.

"Captain. Ran'Chaah," Uhura said coolly, and Ran'Chaah tilted his head thoughtfully as he observed the pretty young woman.

"Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, communications officer, 23 years of age, 119 pou-"

"Okaaaay Ran'Chaah, I think that's enough," Jim interrupted as Uhura's face darkened furiously, and the Captain guided the visitor off the turbolift by the shoulders before a fight could ensue. Ran'Chaah blinked curiously at Jim, who shook his head.

"Just...don't talk to Uhura, okay? She's not a fan of this plan in the first place," Jim muttered as they approached the Biolab, and the alien seemed to accept this order without need of further explanation. The duo stepped inside Biolab 2, eyes sweeping the room, and Ran'Chaah suddenly froze, eyes wide as he came face to face with a creature from his nightmares.

Before a word was exchanged he flew across the room with all the speed his Vulcan vessel afforded and came up hard against the glass of the young Theta's containment chamber, smashing Spock's hand against the surface so hard it shattered in spiderweb fissures beneath it. A scream of fury emanated from the Vulcan's throat, the likes of which the being sleeping inside had only uttered upon the loss of his planet and the loss of his closest friend. He pounded his hands on the glass repeatedly, eyes blazing, and Jim and the lab assistants rushed to restrain him.

"Ran'Chaah, stop!" The Captain ordered, hooking his arms beneath the Vulcan's and locking them behind his silky black head, and although he could have easily escaped the being stiffened and allowed himself to be pulled away from the containment and the cowering creature within.

"I...I-I am...so-orry," he gasped, falling limply into Jim's arms when they were far enough away that he could no longer see the fledgling alien. "I did...no-ot mean to...I lo-ose c-control. Hi-is emotions run-run deeply, the-ey are a-as strong as my-y own," he stammered, and Jim eased him into a chair as the ensigns in the lab exchanged worried glances.

"Is this kind of thing going to be a habit? Because you could seriously injure someone if you don't learn to control yourself," Jim rebuked, and Ran'Chaah almost flinched at his words. He softened, crouching down to look up into the unfamiliar eyes in his friend's face.

"Are you alright now? We can take you to sickbay if you want to rest," he assuaged, and the being shook his head.

"I am...alright. I ma-ay have i-injured S-S-Spock's hand," he admitted, almost like a guilty child. Kirk took the member in question, rolling up the blue double banded sleeve.

"Do you feel any pain?" he asked, pressing carefully on the palm and sides of the unnaturally warm hand. It felt fine, no obvious broken bones, and Ran'Chaah shook his head. Then he winced as Kirk pressed at the Ulna Bone (or whatever the Vulcan equivalent was called) in the wrist and Jim sighed.

"Let's get you to sickbay. Bones will fix you up."

The alien got to his feet slowly, apologetically, and Kirk shot a glance back at the glass. This was not a promising incident, and he knew he would be getting all kinds of flak for it from Bones.

Spock blinked as the sudden bright lights assaulted his sensitive eyes, and lifted an arm to shield himself from their harsh glare. He felt awful-awash in nausea, disoriented, a pain pounding fitfully at the inside of his skull, his right arm stiff and uncomfortable.

"Spock? Are you with us?" McCoy's distinctly unpleasant voice broke on the Vulcan's ears, and Spock allowed his eyes to open cautiously.

"I never left the ship, Doctor," he replied in what humans would call a snide tone, "I am merely awakening from my suppressed mental state."

"He's fine," McCoy grumbled, and several figures came into focus as the Vulcan regained his sight. Jim's figure bending over his bedside, McCoy's retreating blue form and the white uniformed blur of a nurse.

"How long have I been unconscious?" He asked quickly, trying to sit up, but his head spun wildly and had he been a weaker being he would have vomited violently. As it was, he slowly eased himself back down onto the bed, repressing his gag reflex and willing his body to cease its rebelling against him.

"A few hours," McCoy called across the room, "and if you weren't so damn stubborn and resistant to sedatives it would have been a good deal longer! Your vitals are so out of whack-"

"Thank you Bones, he's probably fully aware of how he feels," Jim interrupted, and Spock felt a frigid human hand rest lightly against his forehead. "He feels warm. Does he have a fever?"

"Vulcans' skin temperature is a bit higher than humans naturally, they maintain a healthy average of 102.3 degrees. But he's a bit hotter than he should be yes, thanks for checking," Bones retorted sarcastically. Spock glanced down at his bandaged hand and frowned unable to make a fist with his weakened fingers.

"My wrist is broken," he commented, and Jim quickly averted his eyes. "What occurred while Ran'Chaah was in control of my body that resulted in this injury?"

"You-I mean he-sort of punched a fiberglass window," Kirk said after too long a pause, and Spock frowned again.

"For what purpose?"

"He was angry...I think his anger tapped into yours and he just lost control," the Captain explained, and Spock closed his eyes. This eventuality had been what Spock most feared. If he had injured only himself then that was a positive factor to this embarrassing event.

"Was anyone injured?" he asked, eyes still closed in semi-meditation. His emotions bubbled close to the surface when Ran'Chaah inhabited his mind, became harder to control for a day after the occupation.

"Only you," Jim assured gently, and Spock felt the cool touch of his human hand on his arm. It was brief, but the touch transferred the Captain's worry, care, brotherhood, and something bright and multicolored that Spock could not place because Jim himself did not know its name.

"Spock, I'm beginning to think-no, I've always been against this! It's a bad idea, it's dangerous and you're going to get yourself or someone else killed!" Bones snapped, bearing down on Spock with a hypo full of a bone-mending solution to accelerate the process, and Jim shot him a frustrated look. Spock knew the dangers, probably better than anyone, and he definitely didn't need Bones telling him the potential repercussions.

"Why don't we let him sleep for a while?" Jim suggested softly, a hand firmly on Bones' shoulder to indicate it wasn't a suggestion, and the doctor heaved a sigh and nodded. They left the Vulcan to his meditation and cloistered themselves in the hallway where Bones whirled on his friend.

"Jim, is this little scheme worth the risk? This Ran'Chaah character seems unstable, and we're giving him access to the strongest, smartest and most dangerous living thing on this boat."

"I know, Bones," Jim hissed back, "I know. But what would you have me do? We're heading for an intercept with the Theta, our warp engines are running at 102% efficiency, and no one was seriously hurt because of Ran'Chaah. We need his help. Spock knows the risks signing up for this. We all do."

Bones shot a mistrustful glance at the Vulcan over his shoulder.

"Do we really Jim?"


Ominous Bones is Ominous.