As it turned out the ship was not under attack. I, however, was very busy nonetheless and unfortunately unable to pursue any form of conversation with either Jim or Spock. Besides, they had their own concerns to occupy them for a while.

Sulu lay strapped to the bed in front of me, shirtless and sedated. According to the security team that brought him in, while brandishing a fencing foil he'd been running about the ship "protecting fair maidens" and generally scaring off the crew.

He wasn't the only one who'd lost it. Something was spreading through the ship and, as CMO, it was my job to analyze the sickness and treat it.

Somehow.

Shit.

It wasn't going well.

"Biopsy lab." I jammed my finger onto the comm.. "Biopsy Lab! Harrison?"

Fuck.

Lieutenant Riley, in his own fit of insanity, had holed himself up in engineering and had essentially taken control of the Enterprise. Scotty was down there now, trying to get back in before the ship fell out of orbit and we all died. That was, at this point, a distinct possibility given that Riley had turned off the engines and refused to turn them back on again. Now communication was down, too.

"Nurse?" I turned to Christine who looked slightly out of it. "I'm going to the biopsy lab to get Sulu's test results. Watch him." I'd been running test after test, trying to find something that could be responsible for this.

It had all started after Spock and JG Tormolen returned from Psi 2000. The six-scientists in the research team that had been studying the planet were all dead and the planet itself was on the verge of total disintegration. Spock and Tormolen had brought some damned thing back with them and now Tormolen was dead and two-thirds of the ship crazy. I hadn't seen Spock yet so I wasn't sure of the state of his mental health. If he lost it… essentially what the - whatever it was – seemed to do was tear down inhibitions and take away judgment and common sense. Considering he was three times stronger than the strongest of us, I did not want Spock to be infected.

"Alright." Christine smiled at me complacently, playing with her hair. I gave her a funny look and left. Knowing my luck, she was probably sick as well.

Speak of the devil, there was Spock rounding the corner. Nurse Chapel beckoned him into my sickbay.

I hid.

"Mister Spock," Christine called fondly. Apparently, the two of us had very different instincts when confronted by a possibly crazed half Vulcan. Damn her. Now if he was crazy I would have to reveal myself so he could strangle me to death and not her.

Well that's just great, isn't it?

Spock didn't look infected at least. He was still his normal, not a hair out of place self.

"Nurse? Where is Doctor McCoy?" She ignored his question and reached for his hand, turning it over delicately in her own. "Nurse?"

"Christine, please," she practically purred. "Mister Spock, the men from Vulcan treat their women strangely. At least, people say that, but you're part human too. I know you wouldn't hurt me, would you? I'm in love with you, Mister Spock. You, the human Mister Spock, the Vulcan Mister Spock… I know how you feel. You hide it, but you do have feelings. Oh… how we must hurt you, torture you…"

I was surprised, to say the least, by these secret feelings. How the hell long had she felt like this? What the hell was happening? First Jim, now Christine! The world was going mad, and it had nothing to do with whatever was spreading through the ship.

Spock looked shocked too. Or at least looked slightly ruffled, which I took to be the Vulcan equivalent of shocked.

"I-" Spock pulled his hand away gently. I was reminded of a lecture on Vulcan physiology, most importantly the bit about their super-sensitive hands. "I-I'm sorry." He really was. His voice was so tender he actually did seem capable of emotion. Although, if his emotions were not only real, but all of a sudden unsuppressed… Goddammit. Chapel just had to go and infect him.

At least now I knew not to touch anyone. I just had to figure out what was being transferred through touch…

Spock fled the room, unable to hold himself in any longer.

Mark my words, this was not going to end well.

As I followed him as secretly as I could I was just thankful that I hadn't had the guts to point blank ask him if he was attracted to Jim yesterday. No matter what his response, the question would have brought up some kind of strong emotion that I really would prefer he didn't let out in his current condition. Whether it be uncontrollable lust or complete disgust, the captain's physical well being would have been in grave danger. Instead, I had approached him then panicked and blurted out the first word I'd thought of.

Chess.

Why was chess the first thing I though of? I wasn't sure. But I went with it, suggesting that he should challenge Jim to a game sometime. I'd told him they'd both enjoy it, and added in an uncharacteristic wink for good measure. Winking usually got Jim what he wanted. I think in this case it had only served to convolute matters, confusing Spock and myself as to what was really meant by the suggestion.

But maybe it would work, maybe I had set something in motion. If I hadn't been stalking Spock at this particular moment, I would have laughed. Picturing them playing chess together… it was a bit absurd.

Not that that mattered at the moment.

What mattered was that, upon following Spock, I regretted having said anything at all. When I caught up with him (due to sheer cowardice I had left a large amount of space between us) he was collapsed in the rec. room; his head resting in his arms beside the 3-D chess board, his shoulders shaking slightly.

"Spock?" I questioned softly. Inwardly I groaned. After yesterday's heart-to-heart with Jim, I was all out of heart. I was in short supply to begin with. I wasn't sure I could handle another one of these talks, with Spock of all people, especially considering I had no hidden alcohol in this particular room.

Spock sniffled in acknowledgment. If the sound were any less heart-wrenching I'd have laughed at the mere idea of Spock even knowing how to sniffle. "…Leonard?" The sound was muffled, but his tone seemed distinctly vulnerable.

I felt like I was trying to approach a very timid animal.

"Y-yes, Spock?" I asked, slightly thrown by the use of my first name. He pulled his head up so he could see me. I tried to cover my face in as much compassion as I could muster.

Silently I feared this expression was just as confusing as my earlier attempt at winking.

"Leonard… I never told my mother I loved her. It was not done on Vulcan. But she was not Vulcan. Imagine what it must be like as a mother, living your entire life and never having your son say he loved you."

"Spock, I…" I sat down across from him. He looked so miserable, so human. His tone was still flat and without inflection, but his voice was lower than usual and bled an impossible amount of sadness. "Your mother knew how you felt." I had meant to come across reassuring, but my tone sounded more like I was scolding him.

"Do you believe so?" I was beginning to think that people responded better to tactlessness than sensitivity which was good news for me.

"Of course, Spock. For someone so logical you sure don't think about the important stuff too much, do you?"

"I… I suppose I do not," he conceded, brightening somewhat. That is, if a Vulcan could brighten.

I tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder, careful not to touch his skin. "See, Spock. You know that your mother knew simply because she was your mother. Nothing to worry about there."

"I-" A loud crash in the hallway drew our attention to the door as it opened and our good captain tore into the room.

During our little chat I'd sort of forgotten about the ship's crisis. The one I was supposed to be solving. A crying Vulcan could do that to you. Jim proved to be a rather potent reminder.

"Bones! Spock! I've been looking fucking everywhere!" His cheeks were flushed and his blue eyes blazing as he surveyed the room in a panic. "Scotty got through and we won't burn up, but only if we can get Spock's calculations! Scotty can't change the laws of physics and we don't have thirty minutes to be off fucking around and trying to get the engines up. Spock! Calculate! Hurry!"

"Calculate what, Jim?" Spock's voice was calmer, yet still leaked emotion. A different emotion. A… dare I say, sensual emotion. I don't think that particular phrase had ever been said with so much desire.

Jim stopped. His entire body, which had been nervously twitching about, froze. "You-you called me Jim. You've never called me Jim before."

I groaned. "I don't think this is the time-"

"It's always Captain or Sir or even Kirk – never Jim." I rolled my eyes. I couldn't help it. He repeated his own name the way a teenage girl might whisper the name of her crush. Jim slowly made his way closer to Spock with his best bedroom eyes on display. Electricity crackled to life between the two and, fearing for my innocence, I shot out of my seat and commenced shouting.

"Calculations, Man! What calculations?!" The two snapped out of it for the moment and I heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh… um. The engines are off and we don't have the time to turn them on so-"

"A cold-restart with a controlled matter-antimatter implosion is necessary," Spock finished, knowingly.

"A what?" was my particularly intellectual contribution to the plan.

//-//-//

I'd never seen anyone react so sexually to mental math. As a trained medical professional, I would have guessed that Jim was in heat as he watched Spock make his damned calculations.

Author's Note:

thanks for all the reviews and such :)

hope you like the chapter

oh yea. i should mention that this plot [Psi 2000 and the whole loss of control thing] is from the TOS episode The Naked Time. that whole confession of Christine's was almost directly quoted from the episode.