Chapter Four
"It's a boy?" the man said incredulously.
His father's voice drifted through the thick darkness that consumed him, a voice that had haunted him his entire life.
"Let's call him Jim."
The words enveloped him. Happiness. Sorrow.
"I love you so much."
Desperation.
"He saved 800 lives…I dare you to do better."
A new voice. Paternal.
"I believe in you…. It's going to be all right, son."
It called him home.
James Kirk did not rise to consciousness with the gentle ease of a man waking from a long slumber, content and refreshed. Rather he awoke like he did most things in his life: Like a man swimming up from the ocean's depth, breaking the water barrier to gasp his first desperate breath of air.
Light. Oxygen. Pain.
He blinked. Blood pulsed loudly in his ears. Roaring, rushing...he was alive.
An alarm sounded softly.
A white, ghostly figure hovered near.
His lungs stretched to fill with air. It was the only thing that seemed to be working in a body that felt leaden and paralyzed.
"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. You were barely dead."
A familiar voice…chastising…reassuring.
Bones.
He struggled to bring the world around him into focus. It was too bright, too loud.
"It was the transfusion that really took a toll," McCoy said. "You've been out cold for two weeks."
His mind stumbled on words. He struggled to hold onto a single thought.
"Transfusion…?" It was incredibly difficult to talk. His throat felt like someone had rubbed it with sandpaper.
"Your cells were heavily irradiated. We had no choice."
Irradiated? Yes…the warp core was out of alignment.
"Khan?"
"I synthesized a serum from his…super blood. Tell me, are you feeling homicidal? Power mad? Despotic?"
"No more than usual." His heart pumped loudly. Khan had betrayed them.
A vicious kick to the ribs sent him on his back. Pain exploded in his chest.
"How did you catch him?" he asked weakly.
"I didn't," McCoy said and moved away, out of his view.
A new figure came forward. A gray uniform – straight and slim. He could see the shiny black hair and sharp features.
…"I want you to know…why I couldn't let you die…why I went back for you." Pain radiated from his back and abdomen, spreading out to charge every nerve.
He was dying….
"You saved my life." Beneath the heaviness and exhaustion was a gnawing in his lower back.
"Uhura and I had something to do with it too, you know," McCoy said from somewhere on his left side.
Okay, Bones.
"You saved my life, Captain," Spock said, "and the lives of the entire crew —"
"Spock…just—" He took a breath. The pain in his middle radiated outward. "Thank you."
"You are welcome, Jim."
It took all his energy to breathe, much less keep his eyes open. Sleep pulled at him, dragging him into an inviting darkness. But a thought niggled at him. Something was missing. The too-bright room…the stillness beneath him….
"Where am I?" he asked weakly, forcing his eyes open again.
"Starfleet Medical Center," Spock answered.
"How's our ship?"
"Out of danger."
He frowned. His vision blurred. "Where's the…ship?"
"In space dock, undergoing repairs."
"Captain, we have a hull breach."
"Major hull damage, Captain."
"How bad?" he asked faintly.
"No." McCoy's voice was disembodied - loud and stern. "Jim, you're not getting a briefing. Spock, out."
His eyelids closed despite his effort to keep them open. There were a hundred questions he had to ask, things he wanted to say. But he felt oddly alien in his own body, removed from it despite the pain.
Fading voices murmured, carrying him into darkness.
When he awoke again it was dark…and he was alone.
He thought he had dreamt, but he couldn't remember the dream.
The soft sounds of the monitoring equipment filled the stillness. The large display lit the wall with a profusion of colors. He rolled his head on the pillow and away from the display. The view from his window was little more than muted shadows splayed across an empty pane. He couldn't see the stars.
He hated hospitals.
He tried to shift his position in the bed, but discovered his body was strangely uncooperative, so he ceased the effort and continued to stare out the window. His thoughts drifted, random and disjointed. Despite all the things he wanted to know, he suddenly realized that he didn't want to think…didn't want to feel.
A voice rose from the murky corners of his mind.
"You don't comply with the rules. You don't take responsibility for anything. And you. Don't. Respect. The chair. And you know why? Because you're not ready for it."
Had he done what was right? He'd gotten the man he had set out to capture, exposed a plot to create war with the Klingons, and almost destroyed his ship and crew in the process. And for what?
Pike was still dead. Marcus would never answer for his crimes, Khan was under wraps and now war with the Klingons was imminent – a war he had helped to create.
"He's playing you, son!"
But it was Marcus who had played him.
The shadows on the pane offered him little comfort and no companionship. He wanted the solitude. He watched them until his lids dragged shut.
Spock was off duty, but still dressed in Starfleet's simple black undershirt. He had very few civilian clothes. His off hours were spent in meditation or reflection and occasionally in the science labs. But the past two weeks he had become accustomed to spending his time at Starfleet Medical at Kirk's side.
Today was no different.
Now for the first time he waited, not in fear, but in anticipation of Kirk waking. As he sat in his familiar chair, Nurse Ryan entered and reviewed the settings on the medication infuser next to Kirk. Ryan had been assigned to Kirk by Boyce. She was experienced and mature with a quiet, gentle personality that suited Spock well. In the few days he had known her, she seemed attentive and focused on her duties, a refreshing change from the capricious behavior he had observed in the other nurses.
Human behavior never ceased to perplex him, especially the human need to romanticize. As it became known that Kirk was going to recover, Spock became aware of the gossip circulating in the facility's corridors. People spoke of Kirk in terms of a celebrity – curious to see him and somewhat thrilled by his proximity.
When Spock asked McCoy for insight into this particular human behavior, the doctor merely shrugged his shoulders and said that humans found comfort in extraordinary feats. Spock did not inquire further.
Vulcans did not believe in the phenomenon of 'celebrity' and Spock did not view the man sleeping in the bed as such. He saw a man who had risked everything for his ship and crew, a man who was, at times, uncertain and afraid, a man driven by his convictions and willing to risk his career for his friend…a man who felt deeply.
Ryan smiled politely at Spock as she finished her round and left.
It was some time later when Kirk opened his eyes. He blinked several times and Spock could see the usually vibrant blue eyes were glazed and struggling to focus. In the last few days, some color had returned to his complexion. A frown marred the youthful features. He seemed unaware of Spock's presence.
Spock had noted that McCoy was continuing antibiotics and nutritional support, as well as pain medication, all being pushed into Kirk by the machine at the side of the bed. The medical display indicated an increase in Kirk's heart rate.
It took a few long minutes for Kirk's eyes to come to rest on Spock. Slowly, his eyes cleared and recognition showed. The corners of the colorless mouth curled softly. He gazed around the room. "I never thought I'd say this, but…I prefer the beds in our Sickbay."
Spock raised his eyebrows. "It would be wise not allow Doctor McCoy to hear you say that."
"Ummm." Kirk's eyes blurred again. He trailed his left hand along his side, a confused, tense expression on his face.
"Do you require assistance?" Spock asked anxiously, leaning forward.
Kirk barely shook his head. He seemed to sink into the mattress, relinquishing his earlier exploration. He turned his head to Spock. "You were in dress."
It took Spock just a moment to realize that Kirk was referring to the last time he saw him. "Yes. Khan's formal inquiry."
Kirk frowned. "What happened?"
Spock hesitated, considering his answer carefully. "In lieu of a verdict and, given the extensiveness of the circumstances, Starfleet Command has decided to place Khan back into cryogenic suspension."
The door opened and McCoy entered, carrying a PADD. He looked at Kirk and smiled. "Good to see you awake, Jim."
But Kirk would not be distracted. His frown deepened as he kept his attention on Spock. "The rest of his crew?"
"They are secure in an undisclosed location."
Kirk turned toward the window and stared out.
Spock glanced at McCoy who made his displeasure known. McCoy had warned him not to debrief Kirk or give him extensive information.
"Don't tire yourself, Jim," McCoy said, scowling at Spock as he moved to stand on the opposite side of the bed. He placed his scanner on Kirk's chest and reviewed the information being fed into the PADD.
"All of that and he goes back to sleep," Kirk said ruefully.
"It was a…compromise," Spock said.
"A compromise," Kirk repeated. He shifted in the bed, his face tense. His fingers gingerly touched his left side. His respiration increased.
"Where are you uncomfortable?" McCoy asked. He studied Kirk's face closely.
"Everywhere," Kirk said crossly.
McCoy came around to the other side. Spock moved out of the way, but stayed close.
"We had to insert catheters," McCoy said, drawing back the blanket. "They can irritate."
"Why is it so difficult to move?" Kirk asked.
"You broke some vertebrae. I have a brace immobilizing your spine until you heal more." McCoy reached for a control. "I'm going to lower you flat so I can examine you."
The bed slowly adjusted to a horizontal level.
"How did I break my vertebrae?" Kirk asked in a raspy voice.
"I'm not sure," McCoy said. "Something you did when you were in the warp core." He lifted Kirk's gown and exposed his left side. McCoy released the brace.
Kirk scowled and said faintly, "I don't remember that."
"It's not important."
One of the intravenous lines was inserted just above the hip bone. The other was a urinary catheter. McCoy's fingers probed the area in the gentle hollow of Kirk's hip, eliciting a soft sound from him.
Kirk's hand caught hold of McCoy's in an attempt to cease the offensive probing. His body had become rigid.
"Is the pain in front where I'm touching, or in your back?"
Kirk was breathing heavy now. His face showed strain and he had lost what little color he had. "I'm not sure."
McCoy looked up at the display, frowning. He reactivated the brace and lowered the gown to cover Kirk. He reached to the small machine that dispensed the medication and tapped certain keys on the screen.
Within minutes, the tension on Kirk's face had faded. His breathing regulated as his eyes dulled.
Ryan entered as if on cue.
"I want full blood work and a PT scan," McCoy ordered. He tapped quickly on the PADD. "Keep him prone. I don't want any pressure on those vertebrae."
"Yes, Doctor."
Spock had moved closer to the bed, so that Kirk could see him.
"It's like nothing we did mattered," Kirk said.
"We responded to the situation at hand, Captain." When that did not elicit a response, he said, "You stopped Khan."
McCoy came to stand by the other side of the bed. "He needs to rest, Spock."
Spock looked at McCoy then back at Kirk. "I will leave you to recover, Captain."
"Stay." The word was a faint command.
He glanced up at McCoy, who gave him a warning look. Then he looked down at Kirk. "I will stay, Jim. But you must rest."