A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews! And I am just about done with the story, so expect it pretty soon. Enjoy!

McCoy observed his patient from behind the PADD he was reading. He was attempting to read through recent articles on Vulcan respiratory
infections, but was having little success. The reason for his failure was the respiratory infection of one certain Vulcan. Spock's predicament was
worrying him deeply, and stopping him from concentrating.

McCoy could see how rapid the degeneration had been so far. It had been 5 days
since they had beamed to that tomb of a camp and Spock had picked up the damn infection in the first place. Since then, Spock had lost weight
and color, couldn't talk -or even breathe- without coughing, and was getting weaker and weaker.

As if sensing the scrutiny and probably guessing the thoughts of the doctor, Spock straightened his head, and made eye contact with McCoy. McCoy could see the exhaustion and pain in those brown eyes. He dropped the PADD and brought over a cup of cool water. Spock sipped it slowly, only managing a few gulps before turning his head away. An unfortunate side effect of the powerful antibiotic meds he was on is nausea and a loss of appetite. This was a side effect that Spock could certainly do without, but the most McCoy could is put him on anti-emetics to keep him from vomiting and loosing fluids.

Spock cleared his throat. McCoy turned towards him, watching his mouth rather than his eyes. Often enough Spock could not get more than a single word out, so McCoy had to resort to guesswork, crude sign language and reading his lips.

"Report." Spock whispered. McCoy launched into an in depth summary of all the tests and experiments they had attempted so far. This had become their habit, whenever McCoy came to relieve Nurse Chapel, after hours in the lab. It kept Spock in the loop, and thinking cognately, but McCoy was worried about the effect the bad news had on the Vulcan's spirits. The lack of hope in Spock's eyes, quite frankly, terrified him.

Things were not looking good.

McCoy rubbed the back of his neck, and glared at the sick Vulcan in sudden anger. Why was it always them two troublemakers who ended up in his Sickbay? They couldn't go one mission without one or both, lying there, coming within an inch of death sometimes. Frankly, it pissed him off. Spock raised his eyebrow at McCoy's glare, about the only defense he had. He licked his lips and murmured something. Bones scowled.

"Shut up you." He muttered, strangely feeling as if he had just lost an argument.

For the sixth time, Kirk jolted out of his spiraling thoughts to see worried faces. A crewmember- who had obviously been saying his name- stood in front of him, clutching a PADD nervously. The captain rubbed his tense neck and attempted to pay attention to the report of the anomaly in the planet's atmosphere. According to the science staff, it was a rare scientific discovery, but since it could not do anything to help his science officer, Kirk had difficulty focusing. At the end of the speech, the timid scientist left, relieved. Kirk massaged his temples and tried to concentrate on the view screen, while listening for the buzz of the communicator. If Bones called….

"Captain?" It was Uhura, looking concerned. Her expressive voice spoke volumes about her worry. Kirk tried a smile at her.

"Yes, Lieutenant." Kirk said. She leaned close to his face, speaking for the whole crew.

"We are fine here." She said, "He needs you. Go." She barely murmured those words, but they were the motivation that Kirk had been waiting for. He searched her eyes, seeing friendly concern and affection. The look was echoed on the faces of the bridge crew. Feeling touched, Kirk nodded, and rose.

"Mr. Chekhov, you have the conn." He walked towards the lift. "I will be in Sickbay."

Kirk soon took over the nursing duties from McCoy and Chapel, arguing that anyone could sit and watch over Spock, but that only they could work in the lab to find a cure. McCoy consented, but insisted on staying in the general vicinity, instead of going to the lab. He sat in his office and studied more articles and text, adding to the pile of those already read and discarded. Technically, he could do the same from Spock's bedside as he could from his office, but he recognized Jim's need to be doing something to help his friend.

Spock obviously took comfort from it. When Kirk walked in, Spock had brightened visibly and listed with interest at the goings on around the ship. He even got some scuttlebutt from the ships grapevine, since Jim had quickly run out of the official topics. He really hadn't been paying attention, had he?

"And the Ensign turned around to see the whole of recreation watching his declaration…"

For a moment, Jim thought Spock was chuckling at his inane story. Then he realized that first; Spock wouldn't chuckle or even crack a smile at such a trivial piece of news, and second; Spock's supposed chuckles were rapidly dissolving into rough, thick coughs.

Kirk frantically pulled Spock upright and pounded on Spock's back. That had helped somewhat before, though it pained Spock and Kirk in watching it. However, the position did not seem to be working now. Spock's breathing was only quick gasps between the powerful coughs. His breath rattled in his chest, frightening Kirk. Then his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, widened, and the rattling breaths stopped.

For one split second Jim felt relief that the fit was over, before he realized that the absence of the rattle was proving to be an absence of breath altogether! Spock's mouth was wide open, desperate for air. His lips and fingernails were rapidly turning purple.

Panic threatened to consume Kirk, but his training quickly took over. Ripping his mask off--this was no time for idiotic Star Fleet procedures! -- He yelled for McCoy. Spock was thrashing, and Kirk was afraid he would hurt himself or someone else. Jim knelt on the bed and pinned Spock down. It was frighteningly easy, and was a further affirmation to how far Spock had weakened. Under normal circumstances, Kirk could never have held Spock if he wanted to be free.

Kirk flung the blankets off, and saw in horror how Spock's ribcage was straining for vital oxygen. Bending over the Vulcan, he pressed his mouth to Spock's, and began rescue breathing. As Jim came up for a breath, Spock arched his back, his throat muscles straining, nearly getting free of Jim's restraints. His lips gaped open for air he could not take in. Kirk pinned him again, and just breathed, breathed, though his heart was thudding in his chest. He was only vaguely aware of McCoy moving beside him, adjusting things and pressing hypos into tense muscle.

Jim breathed.

A/N: AND a cliffy. teehee :) review?