10-74:

Jim clutched the comm. in his hand. His eyes stung. "But…what if you don't come back?"

A laughed filled Jim's ear, a laugh that's warmth was hidden behind the light-years of space. "Why would you think that?"

"Mom said people die in space."

"Am I dead?"

Jim paused to brush the tears off his face. "…No."

"Then your mother was wrong." There was a pause—a silence—a field of stars on a black backdrop and another disconnected laugh. "You shouldn't be afraid, James."

Jim inhaled, cried.

"There's nothing out here but stars."

0-0-0

Consciousness hit Jim like a weight, making his body jerk and his eyes snap open. He lolled his head to the side as he gulped back air, sweat trailing down the contours of his face, wetting the grime on his skin. His throat burned as stale air slid down into his lungs. He hacked and tried to sit up yet an enormous weight kept him pinned.

"Wha…" Jim's voice came out weak, barely audible. He coughed more, his throat turning raw and bile slowly covering the back of his tongue.

There was pain, everywhere; his head pounded with each blink he took and his chest felt tight. Jim gritted his teeth as his coughs subsided and his fingers curled into his palms. He curled his toes next, raised an elbow, rolled his head once more. His body was stiff but there was movement—and so much pain!

Jim groaned as he raised a feeble hand to wipe at his bare face.

Something cold snagged Jim's chest as the sensation of his skin warmed his fingers. He wasn't wearing a mask—

Fingers flying to his mouth, Jim clamped his hand over his nose and mouth. His lungs stilled as he held his breath. Mask! Where was his mask?! Cringing past the pain, Jim sat up and flailed his free hand over the stiff sheets under him.

Mask?

MASK!

Jim flinched, nearly taking in a breath, as two firm hands landed on top of his shoulders. Jim blinked tightly and looked to his side, pain shooting through his neck as it turned. Kneeling close to him was a man with a lined face and a deep scowl. He wore a dirtied pair of scrubs with a satchel hanging limply at his side. An outdated stethoscope hung around his neck.

"Calm down, calm down," the—doctor?—hissed and pushed Jim down, back yet again lying over rough sheets. A hand left his shoulder to grapple with the hand pressed close to his face. "Breath, you idiot. We're in a toxin-free zone."

Jim held his breath for another heartbeat before realizing the doctor wasn't wearing a mask either. Slowly, Jim slid his hand away from his face and with the doctor's irritated nod sucked in a lungful of air. A clean feeling flowed through him.

Fresh air... God, he'd missed that.

The moment was broken as Jim began to cough again. Beside him, the doctor shook his head and scrubbed at the small salt and pepper hairs covering his cheek. "God, you're dramatic," he muttered.

Jim hacked one last time, chest lurching. He placed his hand down over his naked chest and sighed. His heart was hammering under his fingers. "Fuck me…"

"Sorry, you're not my type." Without warning, the doctor grabbed at Jim's wrist and pressed his thumb into the skin there. Jim hissed at the sudden movement.

The doctor rolled his eyes and huffed. "Drama queen." He flicked back the cuff of his sleeve and stared down at the watch wrapped around his wrist before dropping Jim's hand. "Thought we were goin' lose you for a bit. You were out for so long," he said. He pulled on the end of his stethoscope and pressed the metal circle to Jim's chest.

Another hiss, another eye roll.

The doctor grunted. He released the stethoscope and moved his hands down the Jim's legs. Oh, his legs—

Jim blanched as he caught sight of the two limbs lying crumpled at the end of the sheets. One was wrapped up in layer after layer of bandages, all stained and stiff with dried blood; the other lied limply next to it. Nothing he hasn't seen before but—shit.

"Cleaned that nasty phaser shot of yours," the doctor was saying. "You must've wanted an infection the way you were treating it. Let's check on that leg, hmm?" Jim watched as the doctor fished out a small pair of scissors from the satchel at his hip and snip down the bandages. They unraveled and split open like a decaying flower.

It was gruesome, Jim's leg. Red bumps patterned the dirty skin around the crisscrossed pattern of the stitches there. Lines of dried puss and blood ran down the sides of his thigh. Jim grimaced.

"Good thing we found you when we did, huh?" Jim blinked over at the doctor. He was an older man, with bags under his eyes and a twitch in his lips. His hands were steady and careful as he took a rag and wiped it over the stitches.

"Who…who are…?" Jim lifted a finger up at the doctor as his dry tongue failed him.

The doctor crumpled up the rag and threw it to the side. He looked down at Jim with a (relatively) soft expression. "Leonard McCoy, EHSC."

Emergency Health Service Corps, Jim connected the letters in his head. "EHSC?" he said.

McCoy hmmed.

"How'd you…they get in?"

McCoy's eyes darted up. "Sent us in second day—pulled back immediately. I stayed, with some others, and got roped in with this underground group." McCoy waved a finger in the air with a frown. "I'm a doctor, for God's sakes, not a freedom fighter. I shouldn't even be here."

Jim blinked and let McCoy's words set in. Yeah, we shouldn't be here, huh? None of us.

He sniffed and lied back on the wrinkled tarp under him. Slowly, Jim turned his head all around, taking in his surroundings.

Tarps and benches and one or two hover-beds sat clusters together under a lone row of dingy lights. Each spot had a body in it. Jim's ears twitched as they picked up on the hushed murmur of voices that echoed through the room. People sat close together, heads ducked and shoulders hunched. Some sat alone, others with their hands clasped under their chins and eyes closed. Some lied deathly still on the ground, a sheet thrown over their faces. It took Jim a moment to realize that the sea of heads he looked at all had black hair and pointed ears.

Jim swallowed.

Vulcans.

"That kid of yours is fine, by the way."

Jim shook his head and blinked up at McCoy. "Spock…?" the name came out as a whisper. Panic rose in him as flashes from the academy and the night spent in the pit and the stiches and the Romulan and ohSpock. He whipped his head up at McCoy. "Spock," he said more urgently, flopping as he tried to sit up.

"Nuh-uh. You. Stay," McCoy tsked and pushed Jim back down. He reached under Jim's bad leg, lifting it up and sliding the worn bandages out.

"Jesus!" Jim yelled as his leg muscles tensed and pain shot through him.

"Oh, boo-hoo," McCoy snipped and pulled fresh bandages from his satchel. "At least you're not dead."

Jim grimaced.

McCoy groaned and began wrapping his leg, twining the bandages around and around, pulling them slightly too tight. "We go out a look for survivors after there's been a bombing," McCoy explained, not looking up. "We were out for about an hour or so and I was called over the old academy building because they'd found a little kid carrying a full grown man out like a princess," McCoy huffed to himself as he wrapped the last of the bandages around Jim's thigh.

Jim glared a hole into the doctor's forehead. "His name's Spock."

"Spock? Well, he's a keeper. He dragged you all the way here and wouldn't leave me alone 'til I took a look at you," McCoy said.

Jim blinked and turned to look up at the dark ceiling overhead. The low hum from the other bodies in the room pricked at his ears. Jim glanced over. "There's so many."

McCoy looked out into the room and shrugged. "Yeah. A lot more out there in the smoke, though. This is just a handful." The two went quiet till McCoy bumped Jim's shoulder. "So UFP is finally kickin' in, then?"

Jim frowned. "What?"

"You're UFP, right? Had the outfit on," McCoy said while wiping his hands. "Federation brat?"

"Hardly," Jim spat and sat up. This time McCoy didn't stop him. He looked down at his now bare-of-any-uniform body and sniffed. "FSOC."

"Ah, UFP grunt workers. Nice to finally meet one of you, um…" McCoy was halfway through extending his hand when he stopped. "Name?"

Jim sighed and raked a shaky hand through his dirty and clumped hair. Soon, he was returning a hearty handshake. "Jim Kirk."

There was a moment—Jim felt it through their hands—where McCoy paused, letting the name sink in, but it didn't last. The doctor shook Jim's hand once more then dropped it. "Well, nice to meet you. Where you from?"

Jim had a feeling that McCoy already knew but held his tongue. "Iowa. Riverside."

"Country boy. Heh, me too," McCoy smirked. Jim caught the man's drawl this time around and smirked to himself.

A string of incoherent cries and shouts came from across the dark room followed by a crash. McCoy whipped his head over to stare over Jim's shoulder. The shadows around his lined mouth darkened. "Shit. Gotta go." He patted a rough hand on Jim's shoulder and used him as a brace to heave himself up. "Chapel!" the doctor called before darting off through a crowd of stirring bodies that had formed.

Jim blinked then turned away. Running up beside him was a middle aged woman with blonde hair and a lined brow. Pulling down the back of her skirt, the nurse squatted down next to Jim's sheet. "Hey there, I'm Christine." A tired but sweet smile graced the woman's face. "Let's get you up and going, yeah?"

"Umm…" Jim swallowed and bit his tongue as Christine stood and slid her hands under his armpits. With a heave, the nurse hoisted him up onto shaky legs, sheet wrapped around his waist. "Holy shit," Jim muttered as his he rocked back and forth. He clutched at Christine's arm as she helped him turn in her hold. It was embarrassing to be so weak that you literally had to lean on another person to stay upright.

Christine must have noticed the heat rising to his cheeks. "It's alright, you'll be better in no time." Taking a step forward, Jim matched his steps with the blonde and they were soon walking across the room.

"Sorry we had to jostle you up so soon," Jim heard Christine huff. "There's so little space in here that when there's a body that's not dead or dying, they gotta give up they spot."

Jim nodded absently while cocking his head back to the sheets he was just sitting on. She was right, his spot had already been taken by two or more Vulcans. They deserved the spot anyway, Jim thought.

Christine guided them into a small back hallway, taking them away from the stuffy air and dim light. Down the hallway was a rounded entrance. "I'm sure you would love a bath, huh?" Christine said.

"Yeh, probably need it…" Jim blushed again, just then noticing how close the nurse was to him. "I don't normally smell like shit…"

Christine let out a tiny laugh. "Don't worry, I've smelled worse."

Jim smirked then stopped mid hobble. They had entered a small room with a pair of what appeared to be toilets a stall with a seat attachment. It took him a minute to realize exactly what he was looking at. "God damn! Is that a shower? L-Like a…shower shower?"

Shifting them over to the closed toilets, Christine sat Jim down on one of the lids. "Mmm-hmm. Vulcans aren't big on sonics, so they have old fashion running water. We had to tap into a tank about a mile away but we needed it."

Jim shook his head in awe. "Wow…um..." he stopped and looked up at Christine who stood in front of him. "Uh, I think I can managed to, uh, clean myself."

Christine's cheeks erupted in red splotches. "Oh, yes!" She hurriedly flattened her skirt's hem and coughed. "Yes, I'll leave you to it then." She turned on her heels and began towards the door. Jim watched her abruptly stop then pause. "It's…I'm really…" she sighed. "It's really an honor to meet you."

You knew this was coming, Jim thought. He cleared his throat and adjusted his legs with a cringe. "Um…I'm not really…ah…"

"It's just, your dad is a legend!" Christine interjected, face now flushed. "And you're a legend too, really."

Jim's smile struggled to the surface. "Thank you."

Christine waited for him to say more, but she got the hint when Jim kept quiet. "Well…I'll tell your friend that you're awake, alright?"

"…Alright."

"Oh, and I'll have someone bring you over some clothes."

"Alright."

With that, the nurse slipped out of the room and Jim was alone.

0-0-0

It would be a lie if Jim said that he didn't feel like crying when warm water finally hit his skin. Drops slipped down his shoulders and back, inflaming the nicks and sores one second then leaving his body feeling numbed and relaxed.

Jim sat himself down on the small seat sticking out of the tiled wall. He felt old using it but his leg was still too tired to keep him up for long. Sighing, Jim tipped his head up into the falling droplets, darting out his tongue to taste at the water streaking his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he had taken a bath like this.

Years and fucking years ago, he thought, letting his eyes droop shut.

After lazily washing sand and blood and grime off of his body and hair, Jim turned off the water and stood up slowly. A shiver ran over him as the air got to his damp skin, leaving him goose pimpled. He swiped the clinging beads of water off his elastomer bandages with a sniff.

Folded neatly on one of the closed-lid toilets sat some clothes and a pair of thin looking slippers. Jim hobbled over to them and pulled the shirt (well, more like dress) out of the pile. He tugged it on over his head then picked up the pants and slippers. Sitting down, Jim hiked up his good leg and slid it in. It took a moment to guide his injured leg into the pants but Jim was finally dressed.

Bracing himself on the room's doorway, Jim put on the slippers. The hallway leading back to the main room was dark and slightly cooler than the steamy bathroom he just left. Ahead, he could hear the muted sounds of voices and smell a mixture of incense, medicine, and sickness. Jim slid his hand along the wall as he made his way through the shadows, cringing at how the long dress shirt made him feel.

"Why'd they have to give me a dress to wear?" he muttered, coming out into the main room.

"It is a prayer gown, Lieutenant."

Jim stopped short to whip his head around.

Spock stood there with his arms folded behind his back, face lit by the dim hanging lights. The boy was cleaned up—his dirtied and ripped clothes were now replaced with a worn, but comfy black tunic and pants. To Jim's relief, he also had shoes on. Bandages were wrapped around half of his head and there was now a stitch or so down his chin. Overall, he looked like crap, but Jim didn't give a damn.

They were both alive and breathing—he couldn't believe they were still breathing—so that was all that mattered.

"Spock…" Jim said past a lump in his throat. He coughed and tried to dial down the goofy grin on his face. "Nah…it's a dress."

Spock cocked an eyebrow, a glint in his eyes. "I would be considered a dress in your culture, yes."

Jim felt the wide grin on his face grow. They stared at each other for a moment before Jim sighed and scratched at the back of his neck. "You…do they have food around here, I'm fucking starving."

Spock's mouth twitched and he extended his arm. Sitting in the palm of his hand was a package of synthetic EHSC fiber bars. "I came to the conclusion that you would be in search of food when you woke, so I acquired these from Doctor McCoy."

Jim gawked then laughed, taking the bag. "Good conclusion." He tore open the bag and took a bite of the bar. Synthetic foods tasted horrible, but Jim's stomach didn't mind. It was still growling after he'd finished the bag. "Christ, I haven't had one of those nasty things since I was in training," he said.

"I have never had the honor," Spock's mouth twitched again.

Jim snorted and pointed up at the bandages on Spock's head. "Glad they got you patched up."

Spock's eyes darted up at Jim's finger before looking down at the ground. "I believe they have also tended to your injuries."

"Yeh, I'm all good."

They stood there, kinda smirking at each other, before the moment was broken by a clatter and two nurses rushing between them with a sharp "MOVE!"

Jim watched the nurses bustle through the crowded room then disappear. "It's amazing what EHSC's doing here, huh?"

Beside him, Spock hummed. "Yes. It is…comforting to know that some of my people are being cared for."

Jim watched Spock blink out over the room of people. For some reason, he looked different to Jim, older, and then it hit him that there wasn't a barrier anymore—Spock didn't have his mask on, uncovering a slightly downturned nose, a slender jawline, and a pair of thin lips. Without the mask, Spock's face was open and longer and Jim couldn't help but feel like this was the first time meeting the kid.

Don't stare at him, Kirk, Jim thought, turning away. "Kid—" he started, but his tongue went dry as Spock trained his eyes on him. "Uh…thank you."

Spock blinked twice then said, "For?"

Jim squinted. "You know what for. Saving me and shit. That was like, what, the hundredth time?"

Spock paused a minute then opened his mouth. "As I have previously stated, I was protecting you as you have and are still protecting me."

"Seriously kid?" Jim said. "I would definitely be dead right now if it weren't for you. Not to mention that you killed a guy to save my ass and carried me here."

"In truth, I carried you out of the academy. The EHSC members provided you the transportation needed to reach this facility," Spock said.

"Well, I'm just saying thanks because…I mean…" Jim shifted under Spock's stare. "You're awesome, kid."

Spock didn't respond to this. He looked away, absently smoothing out his tunic. "You look fatigued, Lieutenant. I am sure we can find you an appropriate place to rest."

"Already got you one," a gruff voice caught the two off guard.

With scowl still in place, Doctor McCoy shuffled up behind them. He lodged the rolled up mat in his hand at Jim's head (which he barely caught) and rolled his shoulders. "You two are bunkin' with me and the other personnel." He looked over Spock and handed him the other mat in he was carrying. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Spock."

"Doctor," Spock said crisply, taking the mat.

"Thanks, ah," Jim said. "Doctor, or can I call you Lenny?"

"Ha-ha," McCoy growled and waved for them to follow him. "Call me Bones."

"Why's that then?"

"I set the bones of over fifty people on my first field job and, I dunno, the name stuck."

"Oh," Jim nodded and caught Spock's eye. Wow, he mouthed, poking fun, but Spock swiped his eyes away without so much as a mouth-twitch.

"Here you go," Bones announced as they walked into a basically empty room with one or two mats already thrown on the ground and a pile of dirty scrubs in the corner. "Home sweet home."

"It will suffice," Spock droned, snapping out his mat and settling it against the wall.

Jim and Bones watched as the Vulcan adjusted his mat before Jim said, "Thank you for taking care of him while I was…indisposed."

Bones huffed and made a retching sound. "Don't get all ooey-gooey on me, kid. I'm a doctor, it's my job to take care of idiots like you two."

Jim smiled as Bones patted him on the shoulder. "Mr. Spock told me you got an agenda or some malarkey, so you better get some sleep. I'll make sure I get you two up in the morning and get you going."

With that, Bones left. Jim adjusted his mat then flung it down next to Spock's, leaving enough room between the two so that there was no chance they might touch. He sat down slowly, bending with his good leg. He stretched out on his back till he heard his spine pop all the way down. Next to him, Spock folded his legs and placed his hands on top of his knees.

They sat there, absorbing the muffled sounds and scents of the outside room. Jim folded his arms behind his head and took a few breaths before saying, "How close are we now to the docking station?"

Spock didn't miss a beat: "6.4 kilometers," then paused, and added, "Roughly."

Jim made an 'O' with his mouth. "We'll get there eventually, kid."

The room was silent. "Undoubtedly, Lieutenant," Spock finally said.

More silence—heavy silence, like the breakthrough at the academy never happened and they were back to square one. Jim blinked up at the dark ceiling, his breath cutting the air louder than it should. "The other day—you called me Jim, right?" Jim heard Spock exhale beside him then lie down. He glanced over, but Spock was faced the other way.

"...It is possible," Spock said after a moment.

For the rest of the night they were silent.

Chapter 10 (finally!) Wow, I have to be honest and say that I forgot about this story:'( I plan on getting it done for the sake of all of you who are still following along-thank you btw3! Sorry for the extremely long wait:''( hopefully that won't happen again~