James Kirk could admit he wasn't sleeping well. He could admit he was…depressed. He could even admit that he hurt like hell. What he wasn't sure he could admit was that he was worried.

While he should be comforting McCoy, helping his old friend through what had to be the man's personal version of hell, Jim instead found himself sitting alone in his quarters worrying about his first officer. Bones was drinking himself into oblivion with the help of Scotty and Uhura was doing her best to flirt him back into spirits. Bones was fine. The entire ship was handing out sympathy and distraction.

Spock, on the other hand, was walking around pretending he didn't get used as a punching bag by a homicidal hunger crazed salt sucking alien. He had to hurt just as bad as Kirk, maybe worse. Spock had not only had the creature attempt to drain him of salt, he'd also been knocked about by the thing – twice. The sparkly silver bandage was still on Spock's forehead and Jim couldn't get the image of the green blood out of his head. Not that the wound was serious. Hardly. He'd seen Spock more bloodied by a training session in the gym. It was the fact that this time it looked like it hurt. Spock had looked injured. His voice, the way he laid on the medical bed, it was obvious that Spock hurt. He'd never seen Spock in pain before. It…made him seem human. And if he ever said that out loud Spock was sure to remind him, in detail, exactly how unhuman he was.

Jim rolled over and stared at the wall. Maybe he should get up and take one of those red pills McCoy had prescribed. He'd been living off the things since...for to long anyway. It was one thing to take a sleeping pill every once in a while. It was another to depend on them. Jim Kirk did not like depending on little red pills.

Maybe he could con some tea off Spock? That stuff was about as good as the pills. One drink and he'd been out for hours.

Jim sat up in bed and tiredly rubbed at his neck. He was still aching from the thing trying to pull the salt out of him. Spock had to be asleep and after the day they'd had he didn't need his captain rousing him for a cup of tea.

Besides, Jim reminded himself, he should be with Bones anyway. A man needed his friends at a time like this.

Jim got up and pulled on a uniform, his muscles protesting at every little movement. It was after midnight ship's time and the halls were empty as he made his way towards the rec room. Chances were that Scotty and Uhura were still there with McCoy. They'd commandeered the place earlier that evening with only command staff allowed in. McCoy didn't need a bunch of young puppies bouncing about. He needed the seasoned crew, the ones that had seen and done things and knew what it was like. Maybe not exactly what it was like, but they'd all lived through things just as bad in one way or another. Bones needed that. He needed proof that life moves on. In a day or a week he'd stop thinking about Nancy and the 'buffalo' creature as they'd started calling it. In a month they'd have all moved on.

But tonight was for morning. For Nancy and Dr. Crater. For the creature. For the universe.

The door to the rec room swished open and Jim wasn't at all surprised that he'd been right. Bones and Scotty were still nursing a bottle in the corner. Uhura had Spock's harp out and Sulu, Rand, and Chapel were all hovering in the corner. What did surprise him was the rather stiff looking Vulcan sitting alone at a table just beside the door. Evidently Spock hadn't wanted to abandon Bones either.

Jim slipped into the seat next to Spock and gave him a quick once over. "Spock, if you hurt half as bad as you look you ought to be loaded down with pain killers and half comatose."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was unaware I appeared to be in distress."

Jim sighed. "Takes one to know one. I feel like the Enterprise did a hit and run on me at warp 8."

Spock nodded once. "A particularly colorful metaphor but I will concur with the sentiment." Spock paused and turned his dark eyes in the direction of the CMO. "However, I believe the good doctor is in considerably more pain than either of us."

Jim looked over at the slumped McCoy and sighed. "Yeah, yeah he is."